Storytime! (Finally!)
May. 31st, 2003 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thistlechaserOr close enough! It'll be the first of June in under an hour. I was going to wait until midnight, but my bed is calling.
*Drumroll*
My stories! The fest is finally over, so I can post them here and wherever I like! Yay! I submitted them to fictionalley tonight as well (10 day wait to hear back on them. Gah!), but anyone who wants to can read them here first!
There are two of them, and they're quite opposite each other. I like them both, I couldn't pick a favorite, so don't think the order of posting them means anything. They're too different to compare and pick one!
One is dark and violent, the other lighthearted, (hopefully) funny, and silly. Both are behind cuts to prevent spam.
First, the light one. Told from Crookshank the cat's point of view, this story is about one of the events the animals of Hogwarts hold on a regular basis.
Title: Crookshanks, Scabbers, and the Grand Rodent Race of 1993
Author: Thistle-Chaser
Pairing: Crookshanks/Scabbers... kinda.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, I make no money off this.
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: Thanks to his tomcatting ways, Crookshanks is stuck entering the worst rodent in Hogwarts into SMART's Grand Rodent Race: Scabbers.
Author's Notes:
1) This fic is part of the Roughside HP Fuh-Q-Fest (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/roughside/ ) Challenge #110:
Use the quote: "You see, (s)he had absolutely nowhere else to go."
(Submitted by Seraphtrevs.)
2) The bit of Hermione/Ron dialogue is straight from the book. Since this story crossed paths with a scene in PoA, I used a bit of JKR's wording. No theft intended!
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Penelope the wonder beta!
Feedback: Please and thank you!
-------------
I wouldn't have been stuck with Scabbers if I hadn't been, uh, distracted. (Who could blame me! McGonagall's hot when she's not being human.) By the time I arrived at the NOON-PIC meeting, all the good rats were already taken. It was enough to make a tom hiss.
NOON-PIC, Noble Order Of Not-Plain Intelligent Cats. Don't look at me, I didn't name it. We're part of SMART, Society of Magical Animals, Real and Tame. If you live with people and have anything inside you that makes you more than a plain old animal, you're in. Got some Niffler blood in you? You're in. Got a human form you can use? You've got membership.
Most of the animals here at Hogwarts are SMART members.
Makes for amusing meetings.
* * *
So anyway, back to business. NOON-PIC holds an annual event. A rat race. (GRR, if you have to know its name. Grand Rodent Race. No, I don't know what's up with all the acronyms either.) You pick a rat to use (non-SMART member is officially encouraged, but they're the first ones picked. Usually.), then you train them. You make them run, keep them from making themselves into tubby little balls of fat, all that. It's easy enough to do at night, when most of the humans are snoozing away.
So long as you get a good rat, GRR is a fun event. Nothing like seeing a bunch of rodents scared out of their fur, chased in circles by cats.
Problem is, I got one of the worst rats in the castle.
No matter how I glare and growl at him when his owner feeds him junk food, he still stuffs his face with it. Ron hates me for "scaring" his pet. Little does he know I'm actually trying to help Scabbers get into shape! Damned rat sometimes tries to hide in Ron's pocket, but I always know he's there.
I can smell the chocolate on him.
* * *
GRR's drawing closer. I've given up any hope of winning, I just don't want to come in last place (again), and I'm about to give up on hoping for even that much.
Scabbers has gone missing.
Damned rat!
Okay, okay, so I was a little harsh on him a couple of days ago, but does that mean he has to vanish? Even Ron doesn't know where he is. I can't go anywhere without hearing about it from the other cats.
"Hey there, Crookshanks! How's the," her tail twitches with her barely contained laughter, "training going?"
"Crookshanks, old buddy! I think I saw your rat down by the lake! No, seriously! It was trying to eat the giant squid! You better go stop it!"
"Boy, you got your rat trained well, Crookshanks! It runs so fast you can't even see it!"
GRR, indeed. I'm going to kill that rat when I find him...
* * *
More wasted days, and I've almost given up on finding him again. Especially with the humans' interference: locking me out, locking me in. It's enough to make a cat gnaw his own tail off.
GRR.
Air, I need air, so I go out for a stroll. Just a walk around the grounds and ...no! I'm not purposefully avoiding other cats! It's just there ar-- What's this?
I stop and turn my head, putting my nose to the breeze.
Scabbers.
Smells like him, even though there's no one-- ah. No one to see, but I can /hear/ them. Under their cloak, they are. Hidden from eyes, but what's that matter to a cat? With my ears pinned back, I advance on them. The humans must have found him again. Of course that rat be with Ron -- you see, he had absolutely nowhere else to go.
Scabbers must have spotted me. I can hear him struggling to get away, and the humans trying to keep hold of him.
Ron hisses, "Scabbers, keep still!"
Hermione, "Ron, be quiet! Fudge will be out here in a minute!"
The boy, "He won't-- stay-- put--"
"Crookshanks!" Hermione didn't sound too happy to see me. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!
And Ron, as he lost his hold, "Scabbers -- NO!"
And the chase is on! Oh, Scabbers, I'm going to run you so hard! We're going to make up for lost time!
"I'm going to kill you! I'm going to rip your ratty little tail off and eat the rest of you! I'm going to pull your legs off one by one! Rip your ears off! Slit open your belly and eat your insides!" Oh, boy! Look at him run! Nothing like a little encouragement from a good coach!
* * *
Conclusion.
No! I'm not avoiding other cats! No, I'm not hiding! I'm not that-- Okay. I'm hiding. Up in a tree, paws over my eyes, my tail (which all the ladies like, I'll have you know!) pressed against my side.
I wish I'd come in last in GRR.
I lost my rat. This time for good. He was caught by humans, and turned himself back into a man again, and then things got really bad.
And now he's gone. I don't need anyone else telling me that this time it's for good. The story has spread all over. Scabbers is gone from the school's grounds. Ran off to save his own filthy little hide. (And did he even thank me for training him to run so well? Did he think about how this would affect me? About what I would do without a rat to enter? No!)
GRR. Sigh.
The race is going on now. I can hear it. The moon is bright -- if I turned my head and looked in that direction I could probably see it.
Sigh.
Well who needs them! Who needs to watch a bunch of rats running around! Not me.
I rise and carefully climb back down the tree, claws digging in for purchase. I'll go see McGonagall. She'll turn herself into a cat if I ask just the right way.
We can have a race of a different sort.
The second story is dark and angsty. While Peter is one of my favorite characters, I abused him muchly in this little tale. Summary outside the cut, so you know what you're getting into:
Summary: The Cruciatus Curse causes physical pain. Voldemort tests a
new spell, one which causes mental/emotional pain, on his own personal
lab rat: Peter Pettigrew.
(It's not graphically bloody, but there's violence and lots of meanness in it.)
Title: The Unforgivable
Author: Thistle-Chaser
Category: Dark, Angst, Torture.
Rating: R for violence.
Characters: Peter (Minor: Voldemort, all the boys of Harry's school
year.)
Feedback: Please and thank you!
Summary: The Cruciatus Curse causes physical pain. Voldemort tests a
new spell, one which causes mental/emotional pain, on his own personal
lab rat: Peter Pettigrew.
Author's notes: Many thanks to Chia (for cheering me on), Penelope (for
saying good things about this), and Taricorim the wonder beta (for
ripping my story apart, which is exactly what I wanted).
This fic is part of the Roughside HP Slavefic Fuh-Q-Fest
(http://groups.yahoo.com/group/roughside/ ) Challenge:
17. Write a fic in which the only words the main character utters for
the entire thing are "Yes, Master," or "No, Master." (Amanuensis)
46. Neville Longbottom on the handle end of the whip. (Firestorm17)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, so please don't sue
me.
------------
There are worse things than physical pain. Slit a man's wrist, and it
hurts. Slit his wife's wrist, and it hurts much, much more.
Sometimes the Cruciatus Curse is not enough.
Standing, waiting in the stone-walled chamber is Peter. Others are
present, but only one of them is important: Lord Voldemort. Peter's
hands move restlessly, tugging at his robe, lifting to touch his own
cheek, joining together in front of his stomach.
His lord speaks. The bowed Peter locks his muscles lest he falls to his
knees (or further) before his master.
"And now, the test..."
The words make the balding man cringe. His eyes dart left and right,
any direction but directly at Lord Voldemort.
"Stand still, Wormtail." The words are command, but the tone is
mocking. Panther to cornered mouse. Cornered rat.
Peter cannot keep the shiver from either his body or his voice. "Y-y-
yes, master."
Voldemort raises his wand. "Egreto Acerbitas!"
Without a sound, without even another shiver, Peter falls to the floor.
* * *
A kick to his ribs makes him open his eyes -- a kick to the ribs will
do that. Peter's breath leaves him in a grunt. He half-curls
instinctively to avoid another, and opens his eyes to glance around.
Eyebrows furrow over his dull-colored eyes. He knows this place.
"Awake, are you?"
The voice is familiar as well, though it seems... so long ago.
"He is," replies a second, male as well.
Hands fix into the back of his robes, hauling him up and to his feet.
His side hurts, and he drops an arm protectively as he sneaks glances
left and right. His breath catches.
A red-head. The face. They are back in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory,
but the owner of that face is no longer a boy. It pushes into his
own. "Finally," Ron sneers at him, then draws back only far enough to
make room for a punch. Again Peter loses his breath, but the grip of
the person behind him keeps him upright.
Another face, man-not-boy, pushes forward. "We trusted you," the dark
haired man hisses at him, green eyes narrowed. "Ron took you in, fed
you, loved you!" Harry Potter takes hold of each of Peter's shoulders,
keeping him in place so that he can jerk his knee up.
The pain is much, much worse this time, white and hot and blinding.
Peter sucks air through his teeth, but cannot speak.
Ron is before him again, voice flooded with rage and betrayal. "You'd
be better off dead!" Another punch snaps Peter's head to the
left. "Wormtail! Worm! Your name fits you!" the man-not-teen spits the
words at him.
Peter's insides twist. He cannot disagree.
His voice comes in a whisper, "Yes, master."
His words do not help. Peter can feel the anger, the hatred of those
around him. He is a disappointment. He had had a place with them. He
had been... wanted. Loved. And he betrayed them.
Others come forward, throwing words and blows at him, as violence and
anger thicken the air.
Dean, once so quiet and gentle, comes forward, wielding fire. Peter
screams wordlessly in pain. Then Seamus is there, slashing him with a
switchblade.
But it is their words that hurt more than all that. They beat in his
head like a pulse. He had had a place. He had been wanted. He had been
loved. It is /his/ fault that he no longer has those things -- his
fault! He deserves this.
When Neville steps forward, whip in his hand, Peter is no longer
fighting to get away.
Neville asks in a deceptively soft voice, "You deserve this, don't
you?"
Peter can only agree. "Yes, master!"
His robe is pulled off, and he's turned against a wall. He hears the
whip before feeling it, but it's their words that cut into him more.
"You deserve this!"
"This is your fault!"
"You had a place, you were wanted, and you gave it up!"
All the balding man can do is cry out and scream, "Yes, master!"
Then all goes black, and he crumples down to the floor. His legs will
no longer hold him up. Even his limbs know that he deserves this.
* * *
Cold stone floor under his cheek, hand, arm. His eyes open, but the
bright light and voices of the dorm are gone. A cloaked figure moves at
the edge of his vision.
Even before Voldemort addresses him, Peter squeezes his eyes shut. He
cannot stop himself from shaking.
"Well? Did it work?"
He deserves this. He has earned this. He had had a place. He had been
wanted. He had been loved. It is /his/ fault he no longer has those
things. His fault. His fault. He deserves this.
"Yes master..."
----------------------------
Closing note: 'Egreto Acerbitas' is two letters away from
meaning 'mental anguish' in Latin. It seemed a fitting name for the
spell.
I had to read these two over before sending them in to FA, and I was happily surprised to see that I rather liked them. I'd kind of odd how different they are, but I like them both, and I liked writing them both, so it's all good. Yay! :)
*Drumroll*
My stories! The fest is finally over, so I can post them here and wherever I like! Yay! I submitted them to fictionalley tonight as well (10 day wait to hear back on them. Gah!), but anyone who wants to can read them here first!
There are two of them, and they're quite opposite each other. I like them both, I couldn't pick a favorite, so don't think the order of posting them means anything. They're too different to compare and pick one!
One is dark and violent, the other lighthearted, (hopefully) funny, and silly. Both are behind cuts to prevent spam.
First, the light one. Told from Crookshank the cat's point of view, this story is about one of the events the animals of Hogwarts hold on a regular basis.
Title: Crookshanks, Scabbers, and the Grand Rodent Race of 1993
Author: Thistle-Chaser
Pairing: Crookshanks/Scabbers... kinda.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, I make no money off this.
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: Thanks to his tomcatting ways, Crookshanks is stuck entering the worst rodent in Hogwarts into SMART's Grand Rodent Race: Scabbers.
Author's Notes:
1) This fic is part of the Roughside HP Fuh-Q-Fest (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/roughside/ ) Challenge #110:
Use the quote: "You see, (s)he had absolutely nowhere else to go."
(Submitted by Seraphtrevs.)
2) The bit of Hermione/Ron dialogue is straight from the book. Since this story crossed paths with a scene in PoA, I used a bit of JKR's wording. No theft intended!
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Penelope the wonder beta!
Feedback: Please and thank you!
-------------
I wouldn't have been stuck with Scabbers if I hadn't been, uh, distracted. (Who could blame me! McGonagall's hot when she's not being human.) By the time I arrived at the NOON-PIC meeting, all the good rats were already taken. It was enough to make a tom hiss.
NOON-PIC, Noble Order Of Not-Plain Intelligent Cats. Don't look at me, I didn't name it. We're part of SMART, Society of Magical Animals, Real and Tame. If you live with people and have anything inside you that makes you more than a plain old animal, you're in. Got some Niffler blood in you? You're in. Got a human form you can use? You've got membership.
Most of the animals here at Hogwarts are SMART members.
Makes for amusing meetings.
* * *
So anyway, back to business. NOON-PIC holds an annual event. A rat race. (GRR, if you have to know its name. Grand Rodent Race. No, I don't know what's up with all the acronyms either.) You pick a rat to use (non-SMART member is officially encouraged, but they're the first ones picked. Usually.), then you train them. You make them run, keep them from making themselves into tubby little balls of fat, all that. It's easy enough to do at night, when most of the humans are snoozing away.
So long as you get a good rat, GRR is a fun event. Nothing like seeing a bunch of rodents scared out of their fur, chased in circles by cats.
Problem is, I got one of the worst rats in the castle.
No matter how I glare and growl at him when his owner feeds him junk food, he still stuffs his face with it. Ron hates me for "scaring" his pet. Little does he know I'm actually trying to help Scabbers get into shape! Damned rat sometimes tries to hide in Ron's pocket, but I always know he's there.
I can smell the chocolate on him.
* * *
GRR's drawing closer. I've given up any hope of winning, I just don't want to come in last place (again), and I'm about to give up on hoping for even that much.
Scabbers has gone missing.
Damned rat!
Okay, okay, so I was a little harsh on him a couple of days ago, but does that mean he has to vanish? Even Ron doesn't know where he is. I can't go anywhere without hearing about it from the other cats.
"Hey there, Crookshanks! How's the," her tail twitches with her barely contained laughter, "training going?"
"Crookshanks, old buddy! I think I saw your rat down by the lake! No, seriously! It was trying to eat the giant squid! You better go stop it!"
"Boy, you got your rat trained well, Crookshanks! It runs so fast you can't even see it!"
GRR, indeed. I'm going to kill that rat when I find him...
* * *
More wasted days, and I've almost given up on finding him again. Especially with the humans' interference: locking me out, locking me in. It's enough to make a cat gnaw his own tail off.
GRR.
Air, I need air, so I go out for a stroll. Just a walk around the grounds and ...no! I'm not purposefully avoiding other cats! It's just there ar-- What's this?
I stop and turn my head, putting my nose to the breeze.
Scabbers.
Smells like him, even though there's no one-- ah. No one to see, but I can /hear/ them. Under their cloak, they are. Hidden from eyes, but what's that matter to a cat? With my ears pinned back, I advance on them. The humans must have found him again. Of course that rat be with Ron -- you see, he had absolutely nowhere else to go.
Scabbers must have spotted me. I can hear him struggling to get away, and the humans trying to keep hold of him.
Ron hisses, "Scabbers, keep still!"
Hermione, "Ron, be quiet! Fudge will be out here in a minute!"
The boy, "He won't-- stay-- put--"
"Crookshanks!" Hermione didn't sound too happy to see me. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!
And Ron, as he lost his hold, "Scabbers -- NO!"
And the chase is on! Oh, Scabbers, I'm going to run you so hard! We're going to make up for lost time!
"I'm going to kill you! I'm going to rip your ratty little tail off and eat the rest of you! I'm going to pull your legs off one by one! Rip your ears off! Slit open your belly and eat your insides!" Oh, boy! Look at him run! Nothing like a little encouragement from a good coach!
* * *
Conclusion.
No! I'm not avoiding other cats! No, I'm not hiding! I'm not that-- Okay. I'm hiding. Up in a tree, paws over my eyes, my tail (which all the ladies like, I'll have you know!) pressed against my side.
I wish I'd come in last in GRR.
I lost my rat. This time for good. He was caught by humans, and turned himself back into a man again, and then things got really bad.
And now he's gone. I don't need anyone else telling me that this time it's for good. The story has spread all over. Scabbers is gone from the school's grounds. Ran off to save his own filthy little hide. (And did he even thank me for training him to run so well? Did he think about how this would affect me? About what I would do without a rat to enter? No!)
GRR. Sigh.
The race is going on now. I can hear it. The moon is bright -- if I turned my head and looked in that direction I could probably see it.
Sigh.
Well who needs them! Who needs to watch a bunch of rats running around! Not me.
I rise and carefully climb back down the tree, claws digging in for purchase. I'll go see McGonagall. She'll turn herself into a cat if I ask just the right way.
We can have a race of a different sort.
The second story is dark and angsty. While Peter is one of my favorite characters, I abused him muchly in this little tale. Summary outside the cut, so you know what you're getting into:
Summary: The Cruciatus Curse causes physical pain. Voldemort tests a
new spell, one which causes mental/emotional pain, on his own personal
lab rat: Peter Pettigrew.
(It's not graphically bloody, but there's violence and lots of meanness in it.)
Title: The Unforgivable
Author: Thistle-Chaser
Category: Dark, Angst, Torture.
Rating: R for violence.
Characters: Peter (Minor: Voldemort, all the boys of Harry's school
year.)
Feedback: Please and thank you!
Summary: The Cruciatus Curse causes physical pain. Voldemort tests a
new spell, one which causes mental/emotional pain, on his own personal
lab rat: Peter Pettigrew.
Author's notes: Many thanks to Chia (for cheering me on), Penelope (for
saying good things about this), and Taricorim the wonder beta (for
ripping my story apart, which is exactly what I wanted).
This fic is part of the Roughside HP Slavefic Fuh-Q-Fest
(http://groups.yahoo.com/group/roughside/ ) Challenge:
17. Write a fic in which the only words the main character utters for
the entire thing are "Yes, Master," or "No, Master." (Amanuensis)
46. Neville Longbottom on the handle end of the whip. (Firestorm17)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, so please don't sue
me.
------------
There are worse things than physical pain. Slit a man's wrist, and it
hurts. Slit his wife's wrist, and it hurts much, much more.
Sometimes the Cruciatus Curse is not enough.
Standing, waiting in the stone-walled chamber is Peter. Others are
present, but only one of them is important: Lord Voldemort. Peter's
hands move restlessly, tugging at his robe, lifting to touch his own
cheek, joining together in front of his stomach.
His lord speaks. The bowed Peter locks his muscles lest he falls to his
knees (or further) before his master.
"And now, the test..."
The words make the balding man cringe. His eyes dart left and right,
any direction but directly at Lord Voldemort.
"Stand still, Wormtail." The words are command, but the tone is
mocking. Panther to cornered mouse. Cornered rat.
Peter cannot keep the shiver from either his body or his voice. "Y-y-
yes, master."
Voldemort raises his wand. "Egreto Acerbitas!"
Without a sound, without even another shiver, Peter falls to the floor.
* * *
A kick to his ribs makes him open his eyes -- a kick to the ribs will
do that. Peter's breath leaves him in a grunt. He half-curls
instinctively to avoid another, and opens his eyes to glance around.
Eyebrows furrow over his dull-colored eyes. He knows this place.
"Awake, are you?"
The voice is familiar as well, though it seems... so long ago.
"He is," replies a second, male as well.
Hands fix into the back of his robes, hauling him up and to his feet.
His side hurts, and he drops an arm protectively as he sneaks glances
left and right. His breath catches.
A red-head. The face. They are back in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory,
but the owner of that face is no longer a boy. It pushes into his
own. "Finally," Ron sneers at him, then draws back only far enough to
make room for a punch. Again Peter loses his breath, but the grip of
the person behind him keeps him upright.
Another face, man-not-boy, pushes forward. "We trusted you," the dark
haired man hisses at him, green eyes narrowed. "Ron took you in, fed
you, loved you!" Harry Potter takes hold of each of Peter's shoulders,
keeping him in place so that he can jerk his knee up.
The pain is much, much worse this time, white and hot and blinding.
Peter sucks air through his teeth, but cannot speak.
Ron is before him again, voice flooded with rage and betrayal. "You'd
be better off dead!" Another punch snaps Peter's head to the
left. "Wormtail! Worm! Your name fits you!" the man-not-teen spits the
words at him.
Peter's insides twist. He cannot disagree.
His voice comes in a whisper, "Yes, master."
His words do not help. Peter can feel the anger, the hatred of those
around him. He is a disappointment. He had had a place with them. He
had been... wanted. Loved. And he betrayed them.
Others come forward, throwing words and blows at him, as violence and
anger thicken the air.
Dean, once so quiet and gentle, comes forward, wielding fire. Peter
screams wordlessly in pain. Then Seamus is there, slashing him with a
switchblade.
But it is their words that hurt more than all that. They beat in his
head like a pulse. He had had a place. He had been wanted. He had been
loved. It is /his/ fault that he no longer has those things -- his
fault! He deserves this.
When Neville steps forward, whip in his hand, Peter is no longer
fighting to get away.
Neville asks in a deceptively soft voice, "You deserve this, don't
you?"
Peter can only agree. "Yes, master!"
His robe is pulled off, and he's turned against a wall. He hears the
whip before feeling it, but it's their words that cut into him more.
"You deserve this!"
"This is your fault!"
"You had a place, you were wanted, and you gave it up!"
All the balding man can do is cry out and scream, "Yes, master!"
Then all goes black, and he crumples down to the floor. His legs will
no longer hold him up. Even his limbs know that he deserves this.
* * *
Cold stone floor under his cheek, hand, arm. His eyes open, but the
bright light and voices of the dorm are gone. A cloaked figure moves at
the edge of his vision.
Even before Voldemort addresses him, Peter squeezes his eyes shut. He
cannot stop himself from shaking.
"Well? Did it work?"
He deserves this. He has earned this. He had had a place. He had been
wanted. He had been loved. It is /his/ fault he no longer has those
things. His fault. His fault. He deserves this.
"Yes master..."
----------------------------
Closing note: 'Egreto Acerbitas' is two letters away from
meaning 'mental anguish' in Latin. It seemed a fitting name for the
spell.
I had to read these two over before sending them in to FA, and I was happily surprised to see that I rather liked them. I'd kind of odd how different they are, but I like them both, and I liked writing them both, so it's all good. Yay! :)
