@Irena_Potter
喔~感覺不到痛感耶，在大力一點啊
惱羞成怒了齁
發表於
黑魔后 @ttroll271
0
終於寫好了 ((放飛力煙火
我找不到小巴提·柯羅奇母親的名字，就幫她取了Abertha這個名字，在威爾士語意思是犧牲。
***
Dementors and Azkaban
(Joy)
Screaming in the darkness.
It wasn’t until the fateful night that Bella’s head was no longer a chaotic mess with pieces of her life in loose order, voices screaming and trying to free themselves – that everything fell into place.
The poor creature shrieked, scratching and squirming helplessly as Bella tore its fingers, dislocated its limbs from its joints, as Bella’s magic danced along its circulation madly. Never had Bella fathom her mother’s love of music, but at the moment, she understood, the diminishing and at times forceful screams of the filthy gnome mixing with squeals and whimpers as its life vanished slowly, weaving together a melodious sound.
Bella’s eyes gleamed with maddened pleasure, she belonged, she had mastered the arts of a proper pureblood lady. While she might not be as good on the pianoforte as the perfect Andy or even the apathetic Cissy, but she made melodies, divine and tragically beautiful even more so.
Laughter bubbled up out of Bella for the first time, innocent and without a taint of the blooming madness within the young girl’s soul. Unable to contain herself, her magic flared and reached out for the neck of the gnome snuffling the remaining tiny flicker of life in the creature’s body before her fingers close around its throat.
It was beautiful. Walking away, Bella sniffled with tears of joy, thinking of the beauty of the creature’s screams fading along as its life was evading, until the crystalline crack that marked the end of its pathetic life.
She felt right, and liberated; the voices free from its chains and in their place, the poor garden gnome whose screams of plea would echo in the darkness of its prison forever.
It wasn’t a happy memory, the dementors couldn’t take it away.
Spitting a mouth of stale meat at the dementors cockily, a deranged grin spread across her gaunt cheeks, reminiscent of her wild, unhinged beauty.
(Pain)
He was innocent.
He was innocent.
Padfoot paced around anxiously in his cell, agitated by the presence of dementors, soothed only by the human voice chanting at the back of his mind. It was a timeless existence of pacing and chanting, a depressing tragedy to live even without the shadows of the dementors hovering.
He was innocent.
Il était toujours pur. (He was always pure)
Sirius came to a halt as he mind swayed upon an unwanted but inevitable memory. He wasn’t innocent, he wasn’t pure, he wasn’t a Black. Regulus, he remembered how his younger brother turned Death Eater came to him, begging for his forgiveness and for his help. He was ready to believe him, ready to be the brother he had never been to Regulus –
Almost.
But the moment it dawned on him that Regulus could be sent to spy on the Order, he relent on his own offer to bring his brother to Dumbledore. He snarled in disgust, his wand drawn and pressing tightly against his brother’s throat, his knuckles white and shaking with anger.
‘I’m not your brother anymore! You chose the dark side; you did this to me and yourself!’
Regulus never released the grip on his sleeves even as he was held at wand point. ‘Sirius you don’t understand! The Dark Lord had made – '
Sirius disappeared before Regulus could finish the sentence. It was the last time Sirius had seen his brother before the news of his death came crashing down on him. He didn’t dare think of how things would’ve been if he could use a Time Turner because he knew he would have chosen James over his brother, as he always did.
Padfoot shut his eyes in an emotion he could not grasp, a painful sensation tugging at his heart strings, his breathing hitched. In its place inside the filthy cell, a broken man with his face contorted in guilt, tortured by the pain of his past.
Voldemort didn’t kill Regulus. Sirius did; he was guilty, he was a kin-slayer – perhaps it was why everyone readily believed that he was the traitor, even Remus and maybe James too if he stayed to dwell in the realm of the living.
Never had Padfoot envisioned that the first feeling to came upon him was relief and a sense of familiarity when he recognized Wormtail on shoulders of a young boy. After years of near solitude, he lamented and longed for his pack, Prongs, Remus, and even Wormtail. For once he was glad the dementors left him all but misery; for the lone dog, watching whole world fell apart was a lesser evil than reliving in the sweet madness of past that no longer belonged to him.
Even in the shelter of his reverie, Padfoot didn’t dare dream, dutiful of his role as a lone dog wrecked by life. In his unconsciousness though the human seethed in anger, vowing revenge on the turncoat who took all from him.
‘He’s at Hogwarts… he’s at Hogwarts,’ he mumbled between shallow and soundly breaths.
He would destroy the snivelling rat and deliver the justice he deserved, the thoughts of vengeance fuelled him with a spiral of energy. Perhaps sometime later in the light of day he would not survive to see, he would regret taking the life of the traitor who used to be his friend, but anger was happiness, vengeance was hope.
James died a hero, Remus disappeared, Pettigrew betrayed them all and Sirius, he lost everything.
(Numb)
‘Father please don’t send me to Azkaban! Please father I’m your son!’
‘You’re no son of mine! I have no son!’
Abertha Crouch trembled in the solitude of her prison, her hair raised at the spine-chilling cries of her son; everything was cold, everything was tainted with death. Walls of her cell closing in, the shadows stirred through the gap of the bars as her guard advanced on her vulnerable form shivering at a corner. Abertha could no longer see, but she could feel as memories sipped from her veins as the dementors feasted on her, draining her of the little hope she could muster in their presence.
Still, she remembered.
Barty, her son, he was suffering and she must protect him. And she clung on the thought, fighting back even as her mind was dissipating, slowly receding into emptiness.
For her son, for Barty. Abertha mused in the endlessness of her torture.
It was all she could remember.
She felt a pair of rough hands grabbed her, burning against the cold shell she wore. They jabbed at Abertha’s face several times, something thin and sharp probed at her, but she was numb. Blunt as it was, the sensation was finally enough to illicit a small mumble of response from the woman polyjuiced as her son.
‘Prisoner 931, c-can you hear me?’ The man said coarsely, stuttering in the chilling frost the dementors left even in their absence.
The voice was small, overwhelmed by the cries ringing in her ear; Abertha could comprehend nothing of it, as if the human language was entirely foreign. But she remembered, and she tried to formulate words with the swollen bulk that was or used to be her tongue, her son, her son, her son was –
‘A-alive…’ Barty. Barty was his name Abertha meant to say, but she could no longer find her tongue, and she was… she was…
‘Ma!’ The child called, wide doe eyes of mahogany free from bitterness and hatred.
At last she fell, her arms flailing helplessly as she, collapse towards the eternal darkness; it was strangely comforting, as the screaming cease and silence dawn. Her voice remained, entrapped in the walls of Azkaban, telling the story of a mother’s sacrifice.
Screaming in the darkness.
***
@Ann0_0
@kittychan
@curry016
@Irena_Potter
@Agnes
@Ann0_0
@shirley501
@orange05
@jennifer929
@anniechu930308
@nmutua60519
@lay10070521
@sirius19591103
@my62
我找不到小巴提·柯羅奇母親的名字，就幫她取了Abertha這個名字，在威爾士語意思是犧牲。
***
Dementors and Azkaban
(Joy)
Screaming in the darkness.
It wasn’t until the fateful night that Bella’s head was no longer a chaotic mess with pieces of her life in loose order, voices screaming and trying to free themselves – that everything fell into place.
The poor creature shrieked, scratching and squirming helplessly as Bella tore its fingers, dislocated its limbs from its joints, as Bella’s magic danced along its circulation madly. Never had Bella fathom her mother’s love of music, but at the moment, she understood, the diminishing and at times forceful screams of the filthy gnome mixing with squeals and whimpers as its life vanished slowly, weaving together a melodious sound.
Bella’s eyes gleamed with maddened pleasure, she belonged, she had mastered the arts of a proper pureblood lady. While she might not be as good on the pianoforte as the perfect Andy or even the apathetic Cissy, but she made melodies, divine and tragically beautiful even more so.
Laughter bubbled up out of Bella for the first time, innocent and without a taint of the blooming madness within the young girl’s soul. Unable to contain herself, her magic flared and reached out for the neck of the gnome snuffling the remaining tiny flicker of life in the creature’s body before her fingers close around its throat.
It was beautiful. Walking away, Bella sniffled with tears of joy, thinking of the beauty of the creature’s screams fading along as its life was evading, until the crystalline crack that marked the end of its pathetic life.
She felt right, and liberated; the voices free from its chains and in their place, the poor garden gnome whose screams of plea would echo in the darkness of its prison forever.
It wasn’t a happy memory, the dementors couldn’t take it away.
Spitting a mouth of stale meat at the dementors cockily, a deranged grin spread across her gaunt cheeks, reminiscent of her wild, unhinged beauty.
(Pain)
He was innocent.
He was innocent.
Padfoot paced around anxiously in his cell, agitated by the presence of dementors, soothed only by the human voice chanting at the back of his mind. It was a timeless existence of pacing and chanting, a depressing tragedy to live even without the shadows of the dementors hovering.
He was innocent.
Il était toujours pur. (He was always pure)
Sirius came to a halt as he mind swayed upon an unwanted but inevitable memory. He wasn’t innocent, he wasn’t pure, he wasn’t a Black. Regulus, he remembered how his younger brother turned Death Eater came to him, begging for his forgiveness and for his help. He was ready to believe him, ready to be the brother he had never been to Regulus –
Almost.
But the moment it dawned on him that Regulus could be sent to spy on the Order, he relent on his own offer to bring his brother to Dumbledore. He snarled in disgust, his wand drawn and pressing tightly against his brother’s throat, his knuckles white and shaking with anger.
‘I’m not your brother anymore! You chose the dark side; you did this to me and yourself!’
Regulus never released the grip on his sleeves even as he was held at wand point. ‘Sirius you don’t understand! The Dark Lord had made – '
Sirius disappeared before Regulus could finish the sentence. It was the last time Sirius had seen his brother before the news of his death came crashing down on him. He didn’t dare think of how things would’ve been if he could use a Time Turner because he knew he would have chosen James over his brother, as he always did.
Padfoot shut his eyes in an emotion he could not grasp, a painful sensation tugging at his heart strings, his breathing hitched. In its place inside the filthy cell, a broken man with his face contorted in guilt, tortured by the pain of his past.
Voldemort didn’t kill Regulus. Sirius did; he was guilty, he was a kin-slayer – perhaps it was why everyone readily believed that he was the traitor, even Remus and maybe James too if he stayed to dwell in the realm of the living.
Never had Padfoot envisioned that the first feeling to came upon him was relief and a sense of familiarity when he recognized Wormtail on shoulders of a young boy. After years of near solitude, he lamented and longed for his pack, Prongs, Remus, and even Wormtail. For once he was glad the dementors left him all but misery; for the lone dog, watching whole world fell apart was a lesser evil than reliving in the sweet madness of past that no longer belonged to him.
Even in the shelter of his reverie, Padfoot didn’t dare dream, dutiful of his role as a lone dog wrecked by life. In his unconsciousness though the human seethed in anger, vowing revenge on the turncoat who took all from him.
‘He’s at Hogwarts… he’s at Hogwarts,’ he mumbled between shallow and soundly breaths.
He would destroy the snivelling rat and deliver the justice he deserved, the thoughts of vengeance fuelled him with a spiral of energy. Perhaps sometime later in the light of day he would not survive to see, he would regret taking the life of the traitor who used to be his friend, but anger was happiness, vengeance was hope.
James died a hero, Remus disappeared, Pettigrew betrayed them all and Sirius, he lost everything.
(Numb)
‘Father please don’t send me to Azkaban! Please father I’m your son!’
‘You’re no son of mine! I have no son!’
Abertha Crouch trembled in the solitude of her prison, her hair raised at the spine-chilling cries of her son; everything was cold, everything was tainted with death. Walls of her cell closing in, the shadows stirred through the gap of the bars as her guard advanced on her vulnerable form shivering at a corner. Abertha could no longer see, but she could feel as memories sipped from her veins as the dementors feasted on her, draining her of the little hope she could muster in their presence.
Still, she remembered.
Barty, her son, he was suffering and she must protect him. And she clung on the thought, fighting back even as her mind was dissipating, slowly receding into emptiness.
For her son, for Barty. Abertha mused in the endlessness of her torture.
It was all she could remember.
She felt a pair of rough hands grabbed her, burning against the cold shell she wore. They jabbed at Abertha’s face several times, something thin and sharp probed at her, but she was numb. Blunt as it was, the sensation was finally enough to illicit a small mumble of response from the woman polyjuiced as her son.
‘Prisoner 931, c-can you hear me?’ The man said coarsely, stuttering in the chilling frost the dementors left even in their absence.
The voice was small, overwhelmed by the cries ringing in her ear; Abertha could comprehend nothing of it, as if the human language was entirely foreign. But she remembered, and she tried to formulate words with the swollen bulk that was or used to be her tongue, her son, her son, her son was –
‘A-alive…’ Barty. Barty was his name Abertha meant to say, but she could no longer find her tongue, and she was… she was…
‘Ma!’ The child called, wide doe eyes of mahogany free from bitterness and hatred.
At last she fell, her arms flailing helplessly as she, collapse towards the eternal darkness; it was strangely comforting, as the screaming cease and silence dawn. Her voice remained, entrapped in the walls of Azkaban, telling the story of a mother’s sacrifice.
Screaming in the darkness.
***
@Ann0_0
@kittychan
@curry016
@Irena_Potter
@Agnes
@Ann0_0
@shirley501
@orange05
@jennifer929
@anniechu930308
@nmutua60519
@lay10070521
@sirius19591103
@my62
邊邊 @orange05
8
@ttroll271
黑魔后你好
初次見面我只能這樣稱呼你(鞠躬
在這邊我只是想小小的提醒你一下
通常這樣的標記串會是跟自己比較要好的人
或是有什麼重要事情需要大家立刻一起討論
才會使用這樣的標記串喔
目前就我所知
我好像沒有跟你交流過，所以應該稱不上要好
現在也沒有發生什麼非常重要，需要立即討論的事情
所以你這樣直接招喚我過來
我不是很懂你想表達的意思
根據我的猜測
你可能是想要招喚人來支持你
但如果需要別人支持你的話
是否該多用些禮貌的字眼
像是『請』跟『謝謝』
這樣給人的感覺會更受到尊重喔
黑魔后你好
初次見面我只能這樣稱呼你(鞠躬
在這邊我只是想小小的提醒你一下
通常這樣的標記串會是跟自己比較要好的人
或是有什麼重要事情需要大家立刻一起討論
才會使用這樣的標記串喔
目前就我所知
我好像沒有跟你交流過，所以應該稱不上要好
現在也沒有發生什麼非常重要，需要立即討論的事情
所以你這樣直接招喚我過來
我不是很懂你想表達的意思
根據我的猜測
你可能是想要招喚人來支持你
但如果需要別人支持你的話
是否該多用些禮貌的字眼
像是『請』跟『謝謝』
這樣給人的感覺會更受到尊重喔
布丁海豚🍮 @my62
0
禁閉【美黛×泰德】
序.
某個清晨，我，離開布萊克的老宅，當天下午，我也在布萊克家族除名了，但，我不在乎，為了他，我什麼都不在乎了。
1.在學校的初戀
在霍格華茲，我是一個蛇，一個史萊哲林，而且血統純正，加上是真正的史萊哲林家族和布萊克家族的名聲，因此，我和姐姐――貝拉，都很受歡迎。
因為麻瓜研究，我，認識一個人，他是泰德.東施，一個不起眼的葛來分多而已。但，他，笑起來，好真實，是一種從來沒有看過的，一個真正的笑容，真讓人覺得溫馨。
而且…為什麼？他明明是葛來分多，卻…看起來對我們史萊哲林沒有偏見？最後，我知道了，他是麻種，一個麻瓜出生的人。可是，麻種也該知道吧？真是一個奇怪的人……
他，好溫柔，對待每個人都有溫暖的笑容，而我，怎麼感覺喜歡他了？不，這不可能，也不可以！我可是布萊克家族的成員，怎麼能喜歡一個葛來分多，而且，還是個…麻種！
貝拉好像特別注意我…是因為我選了麻瓜研究嗎？還是因為我前天，幫東施趕走雷斯壯？或，是我自己的幻想，因為那份藏不住的感覺？不管了，不想了，下學期水仙要來了，貝拉會轉移注意力的……
2.心裡的掙扎
我真的好像喜歡上了泰德了……可是我是…我的家族…父母的期望…貝拉和水仙的親情…這些都很重要，我到底該選哪邊？算了，以後在決定。
糟糕！被貝拉看見我和泰德聊天，這…我看，暑假回家肯定沒好下場了。
我的天，可惡的貝拉，竟然真的說了！害我遭到有史以來最嚴重的禁閉…哼！可惡的貝拉！
3.出乎意料的決定
這年，發生好多事，讓我好累。 先是討厭的雷斯壯像貝拉告白，然後貝拉答應，因此父母在給我壓力…
我決定了，我要違背家族的傳統，我要嫁給泰德，畢竟他，也告白了。
因為家族壓力，我要逃走，離開布萊克家族的老宅――古里某街12號，永遠的離開那個關了我大半輩子的籠子！這…好，瘋狂的主意，但，我喜歡！
4.願望實現
清晨，我，離開了布萊克老宅，永遠的逃走了，永遠不回頭，永遠堅持：不要回去。
最後，我，和泰迪結婚，生了一個女孩兒，叫小仙女.東施，她還是一個天生的變型師呢！
後記：此時此刻的美黛和泰德並不知道，小仙女，給他們歡笑，但也有不捨，小仙女給他們的歡笑在於，她是變形師，她也是正氣師，不捨是將來，小仙女會年紀輕輕就死在歷史上著名的「霍格華茲大戰」裡，永遠的離開他們……
布丁海豚🍮 @my62
0
@jennifer929
@kittychan
@anniechu930308
@nmutua60519
@lay10070521
@sirius19591103
@orange05
@Yen0607
@curry016
@Ann0_0
@shirley501
@Irena_Potter
@Agnes
沙發是我的呢！（瘋狂大笑
魚兒寫長一點的了啦～
@kittychan
@anniechu930308
@nmutua60519
@lay10070521
@sirius19591103
@orange05
@Yen0607
@curry016
@Ann0_0
@shirley501
@Irena_Potter
@Agnes
沙發是我的呢！（瘋狂大笑
魚兒寫長一點的了啦～
