There once was a manor on a hill.  The manor had sprawling gardens and a sweeping terrace and was filled with fine art and elegant furniture and servants for every room.

 

There was also a girl.

 

This girl lived with her father, a wizard of old blood and high standing.  Her mother died when the girl was very young, and her father doted upon her.  She never wished for a single thing, not a doll or a book or new robes or shoes.  Her name was Ella.

 

When the girl was reaching school age her father began to dread the thought of his daughter going so far away.  So he employed a governess, one well-versed in all the classes his daughter would have attended at Hogwarts.  

 

The governess was not beautiful and she was of Muggle birth, but she was very, very clever.  It soon became apparent that the little girl’s father had fallen under the thrall of a love potion.  Before long, they were married, and the woman brought with her two daughters from her first marriage.

 

These daughters took after their mother in looks but sadly not in talent- they were both Squibs.  Ella at first tried to befriend them, but they refused to play the magical games she knew and snubbed her when she tried to join their Muggle ones.

 

Now, it is known that eventually a strong and powerful wizard can overcome a love potion if exposed to it at length.  After a year of marriage, it became apparent to Ella’s stepmother that her husband was beginning to fight the effects of her potion.  So she ensured that her final batch included a few special ingredients.

 

After her father’s funeral, Ella turned to her stepmother and sisters for comfort.  She found none.  She was stripped of her fine clothes and jewelry, forced into the servants cast-off clothes and set to work in the manor.  Her wand was locked away in her stepmother’s room and she was forced to clean every fireplace in the manor of ash and Floo residue.  Her sisters, now wearing her beautiful robes and living in her opulent bedroom, simply laughed and began to call her Cinders-Ella.


And Ella curled up on her cot in the cold, dark attic and cried.

~Part 1 of the Cinderella story as told to pureblood children

(Source: nohamahmoud.blogspot.com)

There once was a manor on a hill.  The manor had sprawling gardens and a sweeping terrace and was filled with fine art and elegant furniture and servants for every room.

 

There was also a girl.

 

This girl lived with her father, a wizard of old blood and high standing.  Her mother died when the girl was very young, and her father doted upon her.  She never wished for a single thing, not a doll or a book or new robes or shoes.  Her name was Ella.

 

When the girl was reaching school age her father began to dread the thought of his daughter going so far away.  So he employed a governess, one well-versed in all the classes his daughter would have attended at Hogwarts. 

 

The governess was not beautiful and she was of Muggle birth, but she was very, very clever.  It soon became apparent that the little girl’s father had fallen under the thrall of a love potion.  Before long, they were married, and the woman brought with her two daughters from her first marriage.

 

These daughters took after their mother in looks but sadly not in talent- they were both Squibs.  Ella at first tried to befriend them, but they refused to play the magical games she knew and snubbed her when she tried to join their Muggle ones.

 

Now, it is known that eventually a strong and powerful wizard can overcome a love potion if exposed to it at length.  After a year of marriage, it became apparent to Ella’s stepmother that her husband was beginning to fight the effects of her potion.  So she ensured that her final batch included a few special ingredients.

 

After her father’s funeral, Ella turned to her stepmother and sisters for comfort.  She found none.  She was stripped of her fine clothes and jewelry, forced into the servants cast-off clothes and set to work in the manor.  Her wand was locked away in her stepmother’s room and she was forced to clean every fireplace in the manor of ash and Floo residue.  Her sisters, now wearing her beautiful robes and living in her opulent bedroom, simply laughed and began to call her Cinders-Ella.

And Ella curled up on her cot in the cold, dark attic and cried.

~Part 1 of the Cinderella story as told to pureblood children

(Source: nohamahmoud.blogspot.com)

flourishandblottsstories
flourishandblottsstories:

They met in a bar.

Millions of couples have met in bars and millions will continue to do so.  But they were not this couple.

It was the raucous celebration party following England’s magnificent win against China in the Quidditch World Cup.  It was in a pub that had been transplanted from who cares where to stand on the pitch.  It was magically expanded, but still bursting at the seams.

Charlie Weasley had been recruited to manage the Chinese Fireballs that had served as China’s opening act.  He sat on a wobbly barstool at a table in the corner, gripping a frosty pint of lager.  Very occasionally, he would take a sip, but mostly he was using the coolness of the glass and the beer to soothe a nasty burn he’d gotten on his palm.  He hadn’t gotten the chance to get it healed properly yet and it still smarted.

Oliver Wood was trying to avoid getting sloshed.  He was far too old to manage the hangover properly, Quidditch World Champion or not.  He slowly made his way to the back of the pub, hoping there would be a door there so he could slip out quietly.

Instead, he found Charlie.

There was so much that unspooled between them as they sat at the rough-hewn table in the corner.  If they had paid attention, they might have sensed the great future that lay ahead.  The tabloid rumors, the Daily Prophet interview, the family tears and angry Howlers.  The great rambling house in the country, the runaways and foster children that would come and go, the marches and signs and protests.  Their love would make news, make change, make history.  

But for now there was only Charlie and Oliver, sharing a drink and a sense of possibility.

(Source: www.theguardian.co.uk)

My first piece specifically for this blog that seems to fit in nicely with JKR’s latest Pottermore piece.  I also just really love this idea.

flourishandblottsstories:

They met in a bar.

Millions of couples have met in bars and millions will continue to do so.  But they were not this couple.

It was the raucous celebration party following England’s magnificent win against China in the Quidditch World Cup.  It was in a pub that had been transplanted from who cares where to stand on the pitch.  It was magically expanded, but still bursting at the seams.

Charlie Weasley had been recruited to manage the Chinese Fireballs that had served as China’s opening act.  He sat on a wobbly barstool at a table in the corner, gripping a frosty pint of lager.  Very occasionally, he would take a sip, but mostly he was using the coolness of the glass and the beer to soothe a nasty burn he’d gotten on his palm.  He hadn’t gotten the chance to get it healed properly yet and it still smarted.

Oliver Wood was trying to avoid getting sloshed.  He was far too old to manage the hangover properly, Quidditch World Champion or not.  He slowly made his way to the back of the pub, hoping there would be a door there so he could slip out quietly.

Instead, he found Charlie.

There was so much that unspooled between them as they sat at the rough-hewn table in the corner.  If they had paid attention, they might have sensed the great future that lay ahead.  The tabloid rumors, the Daily Prophet interview, the family tears and angry Howlers.  The great rambling house in the country, the runaways and foster children that would come and go, the marches and signs and protests.  Their love would make news, make change, make history. 

But for now there was only Charlie and Oliver, sharing a drink and a sense of possibility.

(Source: www.theguardian.co.uk)

My first piece specifically for this blog that seems to fit in nicely with JKR’s latest Pottermore piece.  I also just really love this idea.

On her wedding day, Bellatrix wished for nothing more than to be alone.
She wanted the guests to flee from the hall, for her family to slip away from her side, for her groom to leave quietly and never come back.
She stood and pledged herself to Rodolphus, wishing that it was another, greater man beside her.
And if not him, then no one.
~
On her wedding day, Narcissa felt totally and utterly alone.
Her mother fussed over her silver-trimmed robes, her aunt fastened the pearl choker that encircled her neck, her cousins giggled and gossiped and filled the room with useless noise.
But her sisters were not there.  The two people she needed and wanted most in the world and they were not there.
She said the vows, thanked the guests, smiled at the speeches and joined the dances.  She surrounded herself with friends and family and acquaintances and unknown but vaguely important guests.
There might as well have been no one.
~
On her wedding day, Andromeda was alone.
Well, not totally.  Ted had a large and boisterous family.  They were all unspeakably pleased to meet her, something that they made clear with booming voices and raucous laughter.  Ted had childhood friends who clapped him on the back and neighbors who kissed them both on the cheek and Hogwarts classmates who traded inside jokes and memories and who smiled at her politely and warily.
Andromeda sent no invitations.  She had no attendants, no one to button her dress or place her veil or fix her makeup.
Andromeda had no one except Ted.  And her love for him.
It would have to be enough.

On her wedding day, Bellatrix wished for nothing more than to be alone.

She wanted the guests to flee from the hall, for her family to slip away from her side, for her groom to leave quietly and never come back.

She stood and pledged herself to Rodolphus, wishing that it was another, greater man beside her.

And if not him, then no one.

~

On her wedding day, Narcissa felt totally and utterly alone.

Her mother fussed over her silver-trimmed robes, her aunt fastened the pearl choker that encircled her neck, her cousins giggled and gossiped and filled the room with useless noise.

But her sisters were not there.  The two people she needed and wanted most in the world and they were not there.

She said the vows, thanked the guests, smiled at the speeches and joined the dances.  She surrounded herself with friends and family and acquaintances and unknown but vaguely important guests.

There might as well have been no one.

~

On her wedding day, Andromeda was alone.

Well, not totally.  Ted had a large and boisterous family.  They were all unspeakably pleased to meet her, something that they made clear with booming voices and raucous laughter.  Ted had childhood friends who clapped him on the back and neighbors who kissed them both on the cheek and Hogwarts classmates who traded inside jokes and memories and who smiled at her politely and warily.

Andromeda sent no invitations.  She had no attendants, no one to button her dress or place her veil or fix her makeup.

Andromeda had no one except Ted.  And her love for him.

It would have to be enough.

Go to the right. Twelve rows down, three cases in, down five shelves.
Feel the spines of the books.  They feel different than the others surrounding them don’t they?  There’s a strange tingle, a sense that there’s something hidden behind the covers, something more than words.
Open one.  The cover may say the book is a history of vampires in European wizardry, but the first page begs to differ. 
Is it an epic swords and sorcery novel?  That was probably Colin Creevey’s contribution. A historical romance?  That one was brought by Hermione Granger, though she would never admit it to anyone.  The books on Muggle history are from Justin’s personal collection, the biographies are favored by Dean.  There are even a few children’s books that Harry managed to slip onto the shelves.  Dudley never even noticed they were missing.
It is a library within the library.  Madame Pince pretends not to notice when students check out the same book twice in one month, even when it’s a notoriously boring one on Mermish syntax. 
Books hold many secrets.  These hold the hearts and souls of Hogwarts’ students.
(Source: www.popeconomics.com)

Go to the right. Twelve rows down, three cases in, down five shelves.

Feel the spines of the books.  They feel different than the others surrounding them don’t they?  There’s a strange tingle, a sense that there’s something hidden behind the covers, something more than words.

Open one.  The cover may say the book is a history of vampires in European wizardry, but the first page begs to differ. 

Is it an epic swords and sorcery novel?  That was probably Colin Creevey’s contribution. A historical romance?  That one was brought by Hermione Granger, though she would never admit it to anyone.  The books on Muggle history are from Justin’s personal collection, the biographies are favored by Dean.  There are even a few children’s books that Harry managed to slip onto the shelves.  Dudley never even noticed they were missing.

It is a library within the library.  Madame Pince pretends not to notice when students check out the same book twice in one month, even when it’s a notoriously boring one on Mermish syntax. 

Books hold many secrets.  These hold the hearts and souls of Hogwarts’ students.

(Source: www.popeconomics.com)

A giveaway winner has been selected and they have graciously sent me their address.  Thanks to everyone for entering! 

Also, many apologies for the lack of posts recently- rl has been kicking my ass.  Look for a new piece tomorrow morning and as always, submissions are encouraged!

flourishandblottsstories

flourishandblottsstories:

FLOURISH AND BLOTTS STORIES GIVEAWAY!!!!

We’ve reached 900 followers and that seems like a great time for a giveaway! I’ll be giving one (1) official HP scarf of the winners choice!

The rules:

Must be following flourishandblottsstories

Only one note will count, but feel free to continue to reblog and spread the word! Likes count!

The giveaway will go until June 16th at 12:00 am PST.

You do NOT need to be in the US to win! International HP fans ftw!

Feel free to ask questions and GOOD LUCK!

One week left on the giveaway!!!

He represents everything I hate, and everything I love. So arrogant, always getting everything he wants without ever really having to ask just like his father, while I received nothing. He wears his emotions on his sleeve like Lily did, a weakness I could never afford to have. He has those friends who help him and somehow manage to keep him out of getting killed, a luxury I never got, one I told myself I never needed, even when I was barely strong enough to do what I needed to do on my own. Everyone coddles him, allowing him to break countless rules just like his father and he plays innocent, fooling everyone. Potters always were a pain in my side. 
He is conniving, but only I see through it. Everything he is is like his father but when I look into his eyes, her eyes, I see my first and only love whom I have known for most of my life. He comes into the room and I seethe to see his face with those beautiful green eyes, Lily’s eyes, whose original owner I drove away. I get angry at the guilt that makes my heart clench as I remember, then channel it to him, to the brat that is just like his father, and just like Lily. Its his fault for living while she is dead. She died for him, and he has to end up being the golden thorn in my side. He is scarcely worth her sacrifice, but he is the best we have, somehow this boy is our best hope at our survival. Well, their survival. Time is running short. 
She had to be with Potter instead of me, but I brought it on myself by calling her that awful name in my pride. I scarcely deserve her either. It’s my fault she was chosen to die. I loved her and I drove her straight into my enemy’s arms, and then drove my master straight to her. Potter reminds me of all that I did wrong and all I hate, but in my last moments it does not matter. I will soon be with my love once more, and I shall apologize for my stupidity and pride. The pain I currently feel will have been worth it for her, worth it to be with her at last, even if I have to be with Potter too. I will be free. 
Except I must hold on a little longer to tell her son his destiny, to give him the best hope of survival just like I promised Lily beautiful Lily. He will probably die, and he be with me too while the enemy who killed her rots in the hell that is too good for him. I give up my memories and, having fulfilled my last quest, I grab onto the boy with the last of my strength and utter my last words. “Look at me," I ask, I demand, and imagine what it will be when I see my love again. "After all this time, Severus?" "Always…" 
My eyes close slowly against my will as my life’s blood continues to leave me, but I strain to keep them open a few seconds longer to see the beautiful sight of her eyes, hoping it is not the last time I see those emerald orbs, hoping I do not join my “master,” and then hoping, and feeling, no more.
Source (nami64.deviantart.com)

An excellent submission from miladymorganna!

He represents everything I hate, and everything I love. So arrogant, always getting everything he wants without ever really having to ask just like his father, while I received nothing. He wears his emotions on his sleeve like Lily did, a weakness I could never afford to have. He has those friends who help him and somehow manage to keep him out of getting killed, a luxury I never got, one I told myself I never needed, even when I was barely strong enough to do what I needed to do on my own. Everyone coddles him, allowing him to break countless rules just like his father and he plays innocent, fooling everyone. Potters always were a pain in my side.

He is conniving, but only I see through it. Everything he is is like his father but when I look into his eyes, her eyes, I see my first and only love whom I have known for most of my life. He comes into the room and I seethe to see his face with those beautiful green eyes, Lily’s eyes, whose original owner I drove away. I get angry at the guilt that makes my heart clench as I remember, then channel it to him, to the brat that is just like his father, and just like Lily. Its his fault for living while she is dead. She died for him, and he has to end up being the golden thorn in my side. He is scarcely worth her sacrifice, but he is the best we have, somehow this boy is our best hope at our survival. Well, their survival. Time is running short.

She had to be with Potter instead of me, but I brought it on myself by calling her that awful name in my pride. I scarcely deserve her either. It’s my fault she was chosen to die. I loved her and I drove her straight into my enemy’s arms, and then drove my master straight to her. Potter reminds me of all that I did wrong and all I hate, but in my last moments it does not matter. I will soon be with my love once more, and I shall apologize for my stupidity and pride. The pain I currently feel will have been worth it for her, worth it to be with her at last, even if I have to be with Potter too. I will be free.

Except I must hold on a little longer to tell her son his destiny, to give him the best hope of survival just like I promised Lily beautiful Lily. He will probably die, and he be with me too while the enemy who killed her rots in the hell that is too good for him. I give up my memories and, having fulfilled my last quest, I grab onto the boy with the last of my strength and utter my last words. “Look at me," I ask, I demand, and imagine what it will be when I see my love again. "After all this time, Severus?" "Always…"

My eyes close slowly against my will as my life’s blood continues to leave me, but I strain to keep them open a few seconds longer to see the beautiful sight of her eyes, hoping it is not the last time I see those emerald orbs, hoping I do not join my “master,” and then hoping, and feeling, no more.

Source (nami64.deviantart.com)

An excellent submission from miladymorganna!

flourishandblottsstories

flourishandblottsstories:

FLOURISH AND BLOTTS STORIES GIVEAWAY!!!!

We’ve reached 900 followers and that seems like a great time for a giveaway! I’ll be giving one (1) official HP scarf of the winners choice!

The rules:

Must be following flourishandblottsstories

Only one note will count, but feel free to continue to reblog and spread the word! Likes count!

The giveaway will go until June 16th at 12:00 am PST.

You do NOT need to be in the US to win! International HP fans ftw!

Feel free to ask questions and GOOD LUCK!

We’ve reached 1,000 followers!!! This is more than I could ever have dreamed of, and thanks to each and every one of you for being here and reading what our contributors have shared.

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway if you haven’t yet!

It started as tea in Neville’s cottage. 
Ron would drop by unexpectedly for a chat when he had been called in to discuss Rose’s latest exploits.  Neville was one of the only professors safe from her more elaborate pranks, given the fact that she’d known him since she was a child and she knew that he would go straight to her mum, rather than contacting Ron first.
Ron would collapse into an armchair and give a brief but hilarious recounting of what, exactly, Rose had done this time.  Sometimes he would leave directly afterwards.  But sometimes he would stay.
When he stayed, they would talk.  They would talk about the war and the year that their generation lost to fear and torture, the uncertainty they still felt about their children being in the castle that they saw be torn to rubble by the force of evil.  They would talk late into the night, tea growing cold and the fire burning down to ash, and the next morning the sky would seem a little brighter.
Soon, Ron started to bring Harry with him.  Harry brought an entirely different perspective to their late night reminiscences, and allowed them to speak of how the war had never left them.  How they still sometimes could barely stand to hold a wand, how certain noises could send them into a panic of fear, how there were days where going into the world seemed simply impossible.
These talks were not spoken of outside the safety of the cottage.  Before long, others began to join. Dennis and Lee, Seamus and Dean, Ginny and Luna, other students who they barely knew during their time at Hogwarts would all gather and speak of that which they never talked of before.  There were tears and choked voices, some who could barely speak and some who spoke too much.  Everyone had their burden to bear, their invisible scars that marked their soul.  They were all survivors of a war that sometimes felt all but forgotten by those who had not fought it.
But they had each other.
Today is Memorial Day in the United States, when we take time to remember and honor the sacrifice that those who serve in our military have made for us.  This piece is inspired by that gift.

It started as tea in Neville’s cottage. 

Ron would drop by unexpectedly for a chat when he had been called in to discuss Rose’s latest exploits.  Neville was one of the only professors safe from her more elaborate pranks, given the fact that she’d known him since she was a child and she knew that he would go straight to her mum, rather than contacting Ron first.

Ron would collapse into an armchair and give a brief but hilarious recounting of what, exactly, Rose had done this time.  Sometimes he would leave directly afterwards.  But sometimes he would stay.

When he stayed, they would talk.  They would talk about the war and the year that their generation lost to fear and torture, the uncertainty they still felt about their children being in the castle that they saw be torn to rubble by the force of evil.  They would talk late into the night, tea growing cold and the fire burning down to ash, and the next morning the sky would seem a little brighter.

Soon, Ron started to bring Harry with him.  Harry brought an entirely different perspective to their late night reminiscences, and allowed them to speak of how the war had never left them.  How they still sometimes could barely stand to hold a wand, how certain noises could send them into a panic of fear, how there were days where going into the world seemed simply impossible.

These talks were not spoken of outside the safety of the cottage.  Before long, others began to join. Dennis and Lee, Seamus and Dean, Ginny and Luna, other students who they barely knew during their time at Hogwarts would all gather and speak of that which they never talked of before.  There were tears and choked voices, some who could barely speak and some who spoke too much.  Everyone had their burden to bear, their invisible scars that marked their soul.  They were all survivors of a war that sometimes felt all but forgotten by those who had not fought it.

But they had each other.

Today is Memorial Day in the United States, when we take time to remember and honor the sacrifice that those who serve in our military have made for us.  This piece is inspired by that gift.