Trash Bin

[Dewey]

Trash Bin

These are works that I have written and never intend to finish.

This one was thrown into the abyss of my computer file and is never returning. Titles that I took into consideration are: Hogwarts' Trivia Tournament, The Beautiful and Stupid, and Snape, You Great Slimy Ape!;D. . .
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Flitwick: Hello and welcome to Hogwarts’s first ever trivia tournament! We have five teams, today, consisting of students and teachers alike, all competing for the ultimate prize...

Sprout: This prize will consist of a week off from lessons for the winning team...

Flitwick: Each team consists of five members. The teams were chosen randomly from students who put their names in and teachers whom we thought qualified. Let’s have the teams, shall we?...

Sprout: Team one consists of Professor Snape, Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Professor Trelawney.

Flitwick: Team two consists of Madam Hooch, Cho Chang, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Ernie McMillan, and Peeves the Poltergeist.

Sprout: Team three consists of Professor Hagrid, Susan Bones, Parvati Patil, Colin Creevey, and Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge.

Flitwick: Team four consists of Professor Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter, and Professor McGonagall.

Sprout: And...Team five consists of Madam Pompfrey, Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchy, and Professor Sinistra.

Flitwick: Which team will emerge victorious? Well, here it goes. . . Each team has to lose one match in order to be disqualified. Each team will play one match, then, the teams that are not disqualified will move on to the next round.

Sprout: Professor Flitwick and I will be the questioners while the entire of the school cheers and routes for their team.

Flitwick: Now, on to the first match: Teams one and three have been automatically drawn, if the players will please divide to their podiums, while the remaining teams wait in the audience.


Sprout and Flitwick: *sit behind their podium*

Flitwick: *shuffles questions*

Sprout: *readies answer pages and score board*

Flitwick: Team one, your first question: What beast, according to legend, can never die?

Team One: *huddles and whispers to one another*

Snape: A basilisk.

Sprout: I’m sorry, that is incorrect.

Flitwick: Team three-

He-With-The-Stupid-Name(a.k.a: Voldemort): How dare you insult my pet! Disaugio! Abra Kedabra! Poof! Spoof! Take that, you friggin’ Mudbloods!

Harry Potter: AVADA KEDAVRA!

Voldemort: *shrivels up and dies*

Flitwick: Er-Team three, same question.
Team Three: *huddles and shouts*

Fudge: Heliopaths

Luna Lovegood, talking to Hermione Granger: See? Told you!

Sprout: Once again, that is incorrect: the correct answer is a phoenix.

Flitwick: Team three: What wizard is given the credit of defeating Grindelwald?

Team Three: *huddles and whispers*

Fudge: Cornelius Fudge.

Sprout: *giggle* I’m *giggle* sorry *giggle* that’s incorrect.

Flitwick: Team one, same question.

Snape: Albus Dumbledore.

Sprout: That is correct, the score now stands: 1 to 0.

Flitwick: Team one: What term is used to describe He-Who-Is-Dead’s followers?

Ron Weasley: Pale, greasy, slimy gits.

Ginny Weasley: Severus Snapes.

Snape: Well, well, well, look what I have to take to Master.

Trelawny: What master, I thought he was dead?

Snape: I was being sarcastic, you idiot!

Trelawny: I did not Foresee this coming. I am ethereal, you great Ape.

Snape: Snape!

Trelawny: Whatever.

Flitwick: Team three?

Susan Bones: Death Eaters.

Sprout: Correct! The score now stands: 1 to 1.

Flitwick: . . .

Trelawny, whispers to Snape: What’s a Death Eater?

[Dewey]

The next trashed story doesn't have a name, but I just called the file 'blah blah blah'. I guess I should've named it, but I never planned on finishing it.

Without further ado, I give you. . .
____________________________________

“Tom,” sneered Minerva.

“Hello, Minnie. . . You’re looking-” he looked her appearance up and down. “-round. What I don’t understand is how you got them to let you come in your condition.”

“Why so fickle, Tom? You don’t normally care this much. . . I’m touched,” she put her right hand to her heart to show emotion.

“They don’ t know, that’s why, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Shut up about things you have no idea about,” sneered Minerva.

“Feisty little wench, aren’t we? Still haven’t changed,” he sighed.

“Straight up.”

“Oh, touché,” he complimented, clapping his hands very slowly together. “It’s a shame I have to kill you.”

“Why’s it a shame?” asked Minerva thoughtfully.

“Seeing as how I’ll be killing the both of you; you and the little girl inside of you- Ah, it would seem as though I just pricked a nerve. . . Yes, Minerva, a little girl. It’s a shame you didn’t tell him. Now he’ll never know,” sneered Tom.

Minerva fought the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. ‘You can’t let him get to you,’ thought Minerva. ‘You’ve come too far to die for nothing.’

“Already planning your death?” asked Riddle.

“No, I’m planning yours,” spitefully remarked Minerva.

“Oh, I can’t believe you care enough,” he cocked his head to the side with a dreamy expression. “Crucio,”

He caught her off-guard, and she fell to her knees, not giving him the pleasure of screaming. “Why aren’t you screaming?” he asked. “I know it’s painful. How about another round of it to make you remember it more clearly? Have it your way, then. . . Crucio!”

Pain flooded Minerva worse than before. Her insides ached for the killing. She felt as if her internal organs were being ripped from their places and pounding at her skin to let them out. But then, she remembered him standing over her, waiting for the scream to penetrate her lips.

“It’s not going to happen,” muttered Minerva, coming out of the stupor of the after shock. “No matter how hard you try, I’m not going to scream,” she finished defiantly.

“Oh, yeah?” he questioned. “That may be so, but. . . I have a need to change the subject, you don’t mind, do you? So. . . where’s your rescuers? Surely they should be here by now?”

“They’re not coming,” she answered.

“And why not?”

“I came of my own accord.”

“‘Came of my own accord’,” he repeated dully. “‘Tis a pity they won’t get to say good-bye-”

“Good-bye,” bid Harry nonchalantly. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

And that’s all Minerva remembered before everything around her went black. . .




She woke up in a Hogwarts Hospital bed an hour later wondering where she was. “Poppy?” she called out.

“Minerva?” asked Poppy. “We didn’t expect you awake till morning. But, I believe that you’d like an explanation?”

“If that’s at all possible?” smirked Minerva.

“I think we can arrange it,” chuckled Albus Dumbledore. “But first, I have a question-”

“Go ahead and ask,” sighed Minerva.

“Thank you. Now, my question. . . HOW did you ever get out of Hogwarts without anyone knowing?”

“Should’ve expected that coming,” she muttered to herself. “THAT, my dear Albus, was rather tricky. . .”

After she was finished relaying her story, she had a strange twinge in her lower abdomen. The other two saw her flinch and decided to consult her about it.

“Is everything alright?” asked Poppy. Minerva nodded. “Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing,” answered Minerva, ignoring the cold sensation that was trickling down her leg.

‘Either my leg’s gone numb, or my water just broke,’ thought Minerva.

Poppy, catching on, decided to further interrogate Minerva. “Minerva, are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Uh-hum,” said Minerva, biting her bottom lip.

“Albus, would you mind dearly if I spoke to Minerva for a moment?” asked Poppy.

“Not at all,” answered Albus, taking the hint and going out into the corridor for a walk.

Poppy closed the curtain in around them.

[Lady Lavendar]

Is that all?
It was just getting good!
Please continue!

LL ;D

[SpellboundKate]

Oh, I loved it! Especially the first one- "What's a Death Eater?" lol Hope to see more... Maybe? ;D
Kate

[griseldalafey]

Oh I like it Do you have any more in that trash bin?

[Dewey]

**looks in computer file** Yup, one or two.

This one was more of a super-long poem that I never finished. And so I give you. . .

Dusk Be Dawn

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Minerva. Minerva was 13, a child in the eyes of her parents; King Horus and Queen Catriona.

She was of the purest of blood; royal descent. With the darkest of old, wooden brown hair imaginable. Her beauty was of the captivating sort, with eyes that glow like torches on the walls of dark midnight corridors.

She did not seem her age. Wise beyond all years; an old woman in a child's body. Her pale, ghostly white skin and slim body gave off a powerful aura. A ghost in the night. Forever lurking. Awaiting destiny's call, should it come.

Tis here, where we begin. A tale of night, aged young and old. . .

Her vast knowledge outdid them all. Every word, every letter meant something. She decided long ago that she was put unto this earth to save someone, and if that one person was saved, her life would be fulfilled.

No doubt in her mind of losing her own, she forged ahead, unbiased of life. And so her life progressed, to where she stands now. Seventeen, an adult.

Just the December before, her parents had been killed by the threatening mass murderer known as Grindelwald. They died in a vain attempt to uphold their keep. Everyone of whom to aid their service was already made unattainable. As fate should have it, who to survive but their young daughter, with no special ability or talent to rid her of the situation.

[griseldalafey]

It sounds a bit like a fairly tale I like it. Poor Minerva though

[Dewey]

Well, at least I'm updating something ;D

This one was abandoned a few days ago after an attempt to delete it all and start over. It was inspired from an IM with KayleeTonksLupin when I accidently typed ginger snapes instead of ginger snaps.

So, I give you the unfinished work of
Ginger Snapes

I challange you: Minerva McGonagll, to see who is ultimately the biggest fan of ginger newts.”

Those words were uttered by none other than Severus Snape. He had been sitting next to her during an ordinary summer dinner at Hogwarts one night when the Headmaster Dumbledore began to rag on her for eating so many of the biscuits.

“I had no idea I ate so many as to make anyone complain, Albus,” she had replied.

“No one’s complaining, Minerva. Only saying that specially ordering 400 tins of the things a year from Honeydukes is a bit much,” commented Snape, entering himself into the conversation.

“Well, it happens to be one of the few things I enjoy,” she told them.

“Why she’s so choosy is beyond me,” said Albus.

“You can’t say that,” she said, smiling. “I settled with you didn’t I?”

[KayleeTonksLupin]

*roflmao* Ginger SNAPES??? Touche, Dew. *giggles* Awesome, WAY AWESOME. I'm touched.

[grindylow]

Hmm, that last one seemed pretty finished to me. Lol I'm really looking forward to more "trash" - me likeys!

[KayleeTonksLupin]

Dewey, can I be funny and add to your trash bin? I have one or two...nah, it's yours, oh well, I want to see more!


Kaylee

[Dewey]

The Duel (Portkey?)
By: Strawberry Blonde Chick


Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Just a stupid little fic to get my mind off of my other stories. Hope you enjoy. This one's finished, but I threw it into my trash bin some monthes ago because it's not very good.

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“No,” said Poppy. “Tell them NO. Never again will they duel against one another. NO!”

“But, Poppy...” groaned Xiomara.

“But nothing, Hooch. NEVER.”

“Poppy, please...” said Xiomara’s face full of puppy dog groaning.
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“Ready?” asked Flitwick.

“Ready as ever,” answered Dumbledore.

“Never more,” said McGonagall.

Albus and Minerva met in the middle, bowed, paced backward, and took their positions.

“Expelliarmus,” said Dumbledore, clearly bored of this duel already.

Minerva’s wand flew out of her hand. But...yes, she caught it in mid-air. She could hear her friend Xiomara scream and cheer at the top of her lungs at the amazing catch.

“Nice catch, my dear,” said Albus.

“Flattery won’t work with me, Albus. Expelliar-Accio lemon drops!” A bag of lemon drops flew out of Dumbledore’s pocket and into McGonagall’s outstretched hand.

“Give those back,” demanded Dumbledore. “You don’t even like them,” said Albus calmly.

“If you want them, come and get them,” taunted Minerva.

Albus walked forward. He outstretched his hand for his muggle candy back.

“I thought as much,” said McGonagall. “Accio broom.” In a matter of seconds, a broom flew into her hands. She mounted, and flew into the air.

“Accio broom,” muttered Albus. “Accio Severus.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” said McGonagall. “Accio Xiomara!”

“Eak!” screamed Xiomara as she flew through the air and onto Minerva’s broom. “Let me down!”

“Get me off this thing,” cried Snape. “Headmaster, I swear!”

“My lemon drops!” cried Dumbledore diving towards the ground.

Minerva had thrown the bag down in hopes of such. She waited half a second, then descended, herself.

Dumbledore was just about to grab his beloved candies when a hand wrapped around them before him.

“Still haven’t lost your edge?” asked Dumbledore. Minerva smiled back.

“Minerva let me...dow-ow-n!” cried Hooch, as Minerva did a barrel roll to avoid Albus.
“Minerva, hold still,” said Dumbledore calmly.

“Why?” she teased.

Minerva pointed her wand at the bag of lemon drops.

“Not my lemon drops!” shouted Dumbledore.

McGonagall dropped the bag with a smile. Then, seconds later, dove for it. She and Albus touched the bag at the same time and disappeared at impact with it.

“She’s gonna be in trouble!” teased Hooch. “She’s not supposed to do that!”

“Come on!” said Snape. “We’ve got to go find them.” Every one of the other staff members met him at his landing spot and were about to follow him when...

“No!” said Xiomara. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I think I know where they are.”

“Where?” asked Snape. “Pray tell!”

“Keep your greasy nose out of it!” exclaimed Xiomara. “Poppy! You can open your eyes,” she said, landing on the ground. “Poppy! Follow me.”

Xiomara led Poppy, and 20 pairs of eyes, to the castle.

“Ah,” said Xiomara. “Which one? Um, hm. Let’s see...Minerva so that’d mean...Ah, follow me.”

They reached a portrait of a beautiful lake (Lac Ness). “Chocolate Frog,” muttered Xiomara. She and Poppy walked behind the portrait and stopped in front of an ebony door. Poppy knocked on the door.

“Minerva!” called Xiomara. “Minerva, are you there?”

“Go, Mara!” was the muffled response from Minerva.
“Good enough for me. Come on, Poppy.”

But it was too late. Poppy had already opened the door.

“Ahh!” shrieked Xiomara in surprise. She closed the door. “Come on, Poppy! Let’s go. She’s okay. She’s fine.”

“What about the Headmaster?”

“I would venture to say that he’s more than okay, Poppy. Don’t worry.”

“Ah!” shrieked Poppy as Severus Snape appeared around a corner.

“I figured as much,” he muttered. “Portkey?”

[grindylow]

Lol, that was great. How you can call that trash, though, I have no clue....

[Altra Palantir]

(i'm too lazy to log in.)

Glad someone else doesn't finish fanfics. These are great. I'm probably in trouble for a couple of mine...... If I don't update "Weapons of Mass Destruction" on fanfiction.net, Jenna's going to kill me....... hehehe.....

Anyway, we who do not finish fics must stick together!

[amandahleigh]

I loved them all, especially the last one, but I really wish there was more to the one with Poppy in the hospital wing! Auughhh! Now I'll *sniff* never know *sniff* what happened.



AL

[Dewey]

Just another nonsense something I dug up from a desktop file. I hope you get as much amusement out of this as I did, (from laughing at the idiotic tendencies of my writing technique).

Warning: This one's definitely AU.

She turned from the last Death and shivered. Something didn’t feel right about that moment. She averted her gaze behind her and saw to misbelief that there was no one there. No one was around her, they had all mysteriously vanished. She ran quickly forward, listening intently for anything. Somehow she felt she wasn’t going quick enough. She turned into her cat form and sprinted at full pace. It seemed like ages and yet no time at all until she heard voices, screaming voices.

She came to a small clearing full of Death Eaters. Just as she passed the last tree, she saw it. She could sense her own fear, this wasn’t at all right.

He dropped to the ground as if in slow motion. She turned back into human form as she ran, immediately throwing curses and jinxes at anything that she recognized as enemy. She had stunned them, every last one, and finally made way to his side.

She felt the tears fall from her eyes as she knelt to the ground beside him. “Albus. ... Albus, please don’t be dead,” she hoarsly whispered. She harshly brushed the tears from her cheeks with her fist.

There was no pulse, she numbly realized as she took his wrist in her hand. She screamed, it was bitter and painful. Her voice had begun to crack as it steadily became louder. It ended as soon as it began. “Albus, I love you, you stupid idiot! Why did you have to die!?”

Leaves crackled and she jumped to her feet, wand at the ready, poised to attack.

There was no one there. Dark was coming soon and she had to leave. A hard wind blew and she felt how wet her face had become. “I’LL KILL YOU!” she screamed louder even than her body would allow. This time she whispered almost inaudibly. “You hear that, Tom? I’m coming, and next time. . . I’ll be ready.”

She left his body and that memory deep in the forest till that day would come.

[Dewey]

Just cleaning out that desktop file... You never know what you could find in there. Many nonsense, humorous, and overdramatic scenes.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the familiar characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. Good golly gee, I wonder how many times I've typed that in the past year.

This is something I began to write, but quickly lost interest.

A View From the Top


There once was a place, so beautifully thrilling, very few ever were to gaze upon it. And once upon a time, this place was home to the most intelligent of arguments and quarrels. The world’s greatest would meet here and share their ideals of strategy and of things to come. It was a place equaling to that of one in a fairytale. Flowers covered every inch of the ground; every type of lily imaginable, wild roses in many a color, iris ranging in violent shades of purple, and even more still. Cylindrical white columns covered in climbing green ivy stood amongst the breathtaking surroundings to form some sort of courtyard. Its location was never known for certain, but allowed a presumption, one might think it actually were located in a storybook.

[Dewey]

Ah, and yet another one. I gave up on this one due to a serious bout of writer's block. The first song belongs to Staind and is called It's Been Awhile. The second song is from Evanescence and is called Bring Me to Life.

Warning: AU, unfinished, and containing mentions of death, depression, and insanity.

(I never could come up with a proper title when I wrote this some six or more months ago.)



Prologue




And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I first saw you
And it's been awhile
Since I could stand on my own two feet again


She’s gone, day by day, never knowing what to expect, never knowing what to do. And everyday, she makes it through, and she passes the limits without doubt. And any day, she’d look at the ground as she walked. And with every obstacle, she faces it with such unkempt bravery and strength that when anyone passes her, they feel faith flood back into mind. And if anyone dare challenge this woman, she’ll be ready.

They covertly admire and look up to this woman, though she’d never know. But why look up to her?, what did she ever do? And what they’d never know, she just closes her eyes and allows the tears to fall whenever life becomes too much for one person. And the one that does know, however, is gone. And every now and again, she’ll see his face and ask his advice. And every time she thinks he’s to answer, he vanishes once again into nothingness and she’ll let the hot, salty droplets tumble over her cheeks onto her chest as she thinks about the man that she once knew.

It was all her fault; her fault he is now dead. But they don’t blame her, no they don’t blame her. . . . in front of her face. When her back is turned, they whisper, and they attribute to her the fact of his death. Oh!, but no, not the saintly goddess Minerva! No! She could never have done such a thing. NEVER. And yet, how they love to pretend.

She possessed a never-ending vigil that wasn’t very accustomed to her. After his death, she never forgave herself it. It should have been her, not him! He was still needed, and yet there was something she did not understand, something she had never forgotten, yet, never could seem to remember.

She had long since fell into an uncomfortable sleep every night since his death, wearing his unused, bright purple handkerchief around her wrist, as it reminded her of his eccentric ways. . . and of his delightful scent- lavender and lemon. He always carried that handkerchief with him everywhere he went, and he never had used it. It had been something he had purchased for himself on a Hogsmeade trip with her when she had insisted he buy the item. The scent was beginning to fade and she did nothing to bring it back.

He was alive, and she knew it. She just knows he’s alive. ‘Sweetie, you have to let go,’ they tell her, ‘he’s dead.’ And then it revolts her, they’ve given up. And it angers her, how could they give up? It’s not true, she knows he’s still living, she can feel it.

She’s rummaging through that old, dresser drawer. She’s looking for something that isn’t there, and she knows it. She finally gives up, the contents of the wooden drawer spewn across the room, tears staining the pieces of parchment. It just had to be there!, what could have happened to it? The final letter just had to be there. He wouldn’t have gone without leaving her a last means of will. He just could not have! And yet how she remembers every aspect, every small event of that dire day.

The rain was pouring; hard, steady. Neither of the both could see but themselves. A hand creeps across her shoulder, soft and sensuous. For the first time in her life she’s scared. She does not know to whom the hand belongs. “Albus-” she whispers quietly, her voice surprisingly firm, “Albus, whose hand is that on my back?”

He, too, is scared. “All right,” he sighs. “On the count of three, we shall both turn around. One-” he mouths without sound.

“Two-”

“Three,” they are, the two, to whisper. Yet, they never get to it, for, another hand is already grasping its way around her mouth.

She remained calm. She does not scream, that would be illogical. It does best to stay calm in situations like these.

He was frozen on the spot and she knew why. He didn’t know who was there, why they were there, or even what they really wanted. . .

She didn’t want to think on it even more than she had to. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Crying is the first sign of weakness and she knew it. If she showed any indication of weakness they’d be all over her like scavengers on rotting tissue. She’s going, she’d already have been gone if not for fear of actually finding him. If she found him- she closed her eyes, NO!, she was not going to cry again- it meant that she might have just invisioned it all, or even had just made it up psychologically for some sick amusement that tormented a part of her brain.
_____________________________________________________________
Chapter One


Frozen inside without your touch without your love
darling only you are the life among the dead

Oh, laughter, such a pleasant sound! How long had it been since last it emitted her ears? And why hadn’t it to be heard by she? Oh, laughter, why ever was it so sweet? So pleased she was to hear, yet, how demented it did become. She tossed and turned, covered her ears with her hands. The laughter was that of a madman; she heard chains of playground swings creak in the wind and the children’s laughter became more and more pronounced. She heard a distinct child’s laughter and became even more frightened, who the child was, she hadn’t the slightest of ideas. Feet shuffle on the ground, breath rags, a phoenix trills a sorrow-filled note. She screamed but no noise comes forth from her mouth. All she wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare- or was it real?

She could see his face in her peripheral vision and knew she was saved. She took his offered hand, but he wasn’t what he seemed. He spoke, yet the voice wasn’t that of his own. It was that of someone whom she tried to forget. Light flashed before her eyes and just as lightening streaks cross the midnight sky, she heard that same voice in a memory. The scenery changed, nothing was the same but his voice.

She was crying but didn’t know why. She had no idea what had just happened. A hand was groping around her mouth. . .

She remembers this moment. . . .

‘Albus,’ she remembers thinking, ‘Albus, please help me.’

There were a half dozen men walking toward them from behind Albus. A hollow voice echoed maniacally across the high rooftop upon which they stood. She so greatly wanted to call to Albus, to tell him to look for the black robed men to the rear of him. But call, she couldn’t, and live he wouldn’t. The men were parting as the sea did for Moses, and the most hideous of them all- the one without mask- came from the midst, drawing his wand. Albus hears, Albus turns. . . Albus is too late. A green flashes through the wind, causing the entire sky to radiate an eerie glow. No body was found; no bone, nor any flesh, yet grain of sand is piled small in his place. She couldn’t see, the hair on her neck rises and then she looks upon what has been done. . .

She screams a shrieking cry of spasm. Louder than even silence itself. She shall be dirty, be rid of sins she must.

[Dewey]

And yet another... best to get the folder entirely cleaned out, I s'pose.

Untitled

A streetlight flickers, a cat hisses in utter madness, and the figures below turn to shadow. It’s not easy, the passage to Hell. Full of dark alleyways and sinister trees luming in the distant hills and creatures more terrifying than ever imaginable. The sinners, the haters, the evil rogue all go there when try to defy death. Those foul beings, followers of the anti-Christ, have proven their loyalty to none, and never will they do. Yet, wherever would you go if not decide? Shall you burn in Hell as Satan as your witness, or tower above with the angel-being? If not decide, whoever would you be? Again the streetlight flickers, yet this time burns out. The cat, that with the coarse, black hair, rears back to strike; hisses, bares its sharp, shiny whites. This midnight is dark, cold- so very cold. Death is not the worst thing to become of a person- so much worse able to be done. But, the most horrible has yet to emerge. A horrific event is to be done. Winding through the darkness, a figure not turned to silhouette comes uprubtly to a halt. Some evil to be prepared. One more piece to coincide. . . . .