Harry Potter Short Story Contest!

[nonfictional lore]

Hi everyone! As the title suggests, this is a Harry Potter short story contest!
Okay, here are the rules.
1. No cursing in your story.
2. Your story must be less than 300 words long, that's why it's called a short story contest.
3. Your story must contain any of the characters in any of the Harry Potter books or movies, they don't have to be main characters, they just have to be mentioned. For example, you could write a story about Susan Bones.
4. Follow the guild's rules
Enjoy the contest!
The winner gets 1k in gold!

 

[BunnyxAngel]

Pansy Parkinson

Pansy Parkinson, Slytherin 3rd year, was walking down the hallway, comforting Draco Malfoy about his arm that was bitten by that oaf Hagrid's bird. "Out of his way, Mudblood First Years!!" she yelled to the First-Year Hufflepuffs that were hanging around. Pansy went back to talking to Draco. "That big oaf told the bird to scratch you, no doubt. Maybe Potter commanded it to." she said. Draco complained about what a big lump that Dumbledore hired. " I agree! You should write to your father now. Let's go to the common room." Pansy said, heading toward the dungeons. She got a quill and some parchment from the girls dormitory and headed back to where Draco sat.Maybe, she thought, We could get that lump fired. Pansy sat and began to listen to Draco's complaints, hoping Slytherins would win the House Cup.  

[trash gator]

♥❤♥

“This is the last time, and this time I mean it.”
“Whatever you say, Darling.”
“For Merlin’s sake, stop calling me that.”
Harry chuckled darkly and took Neville’s elbow in a firm hand, leading him into the castle, through the main gallery and stopped in front of the large oak doors of the Great Hall. Both turned and faced each other wearily.
“You know I hate these things.”
“You know I hate these things, but you’re a teacher and I somehow made it onto the Board of Governors, and since A plus B equals C and all that rot, this is how it has to be.”
“Minerva doesn’t make Snape come.” Neville frowned childishly, something that one would think quite impossible for the six-three and a half man to do. He glared down at Harry (five-six and a quarter, thank you very much) and then his feet, scuffing them across the floor like an impudent brat.
“Snape’s a grumpy old introvert.”
“You’re a grumpy old introvert.”
Harry waved his hand as if to brush away the comment and smiled cheekily up at him, “Must I repeat about A and B? Besides, if you must blame someone, blame Gin, she’s the one that’s forcing me to go.”
“Then why am I here? I have about thirty other things I could be doing right now. Which reminds me, the tiger azalea needs pruning and greenhouse nine needs to be sprayed for turtle mites.” Neville was just about to turn and stride off, when Harry’s strong hand found his elbow and forced him forward.
“Moral support?” The question didn’t sound at all like a valid reason, at least not to Neville.
“Then why couldn’t Ginny come herself?”
Harry chuckled as he pushed open one of the heavy doors. “If you’d like to tell my eight and a half month pregnant wife that she needs to put on a fancy dress and come rub noses with a bunch of pureblood snobs, then be my guest.” Harry pointed up toward the approximate location of the Headmistress’s office. “The floo’s that way.”
“Point taken,” Neville huffed.


(I cannot for the life of me take anymore out sad )