Music Club: Play Me A Prompt (Term XXIII Activity #02)

[flyingharmony.livejournal.com]

Activity: Play Me A Prompt
Points: 5 points per fic/art; maximum of 30 points.
Deadline: Thursday, May 31st @ 21:59 UTC (timezone converter).
Details: Comment with at most five song prompts (i.e. a title, line/s, or an entire song). Then, browse through the other comments and use these prompts to write fic or create art - Harry Potter related. (Fic should be at least 250 words long, art can be anything, just no doodles. Show that you put some effort in your work!) You will receive five points per fic/art you submit with a maximum of 30 points. starianprincess, recognise this activity? 5 bonus points to you, if you participate!

Note: I turned notifications off for this, so if there are any questions, comments, music notes etc don't hesitate to PM me! (Also, I won't be here until Sunday or Monday, so if it takes me some time to answer, that's why. I'll get back to it, though, I promise!)

Note #2: Since there will be no roster grace periods at the end of activities, double check if you're on it. :)

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. Victor Hugo recommends you to join the Club.

Comments

[ansera.livejournal.com]

Pansy; Quick, now

Movement. Quick. Whiplash. Quick, quick- I run, I feel as though movement around me is happening in slow-motion; adrenaline keeping me faster than I’ve ever been, fear making sure that my wand is held tight in hand, instincts turning me every way to get to the other side.

To the right. Now. A bright flash of blue. I barely know what I am saying; what spells are flying across me, by me, to me; things are too- Behind me. Quick. I duck. A body charges into me. A physical attack? Not a Death Eater – they would not use something that… Muggle. I fall. He falls with me.

“What are you?” He is screaming; crazed. I recognize him, one of the faces that had been up in the air – floating, masked figures laughing as he spinned, and then fell. “What the hell are you?”

My wand flashed before I can barely recognize it, and he is on the ground. “Not the bad guy,” I whisper, and then keep running. Something feels strange, and I raise my hand to my head. It comes off wet, only slightly red. Blood. Tears. Not the bad guy – but I do not know anymore. Choices must be made.

The left, a white mask. A command, a voice I recognize. “Go to your mother.” I freeze. Then, I keep moving. Movement. All the time. Fast enough and choices that must be made are left behind me and in front of me; with my father killing that Muggle and my mother fleeing instead of choosing or fighting. Just move.

Mia/Slytherin/261