Desperate Measures Duel - Round One, Entries Options

[Department_of_My...]

Round One ~ The Hideout

Choose a character (or two).

Be clever and explain why they are needing to be in the Muggle House.

What Muggle things strike them as interesting, strange, odd, etc.? (Do they get it right or attribute entirely erroneous reasoning to whatever it is?)

What is the backstory that brought us to this precarious situation? (Is this the first place - time - escape - prank - whatever, or is this one just the next in a series? Who's after them, and why?)

Finish up with your character(s) making an unexpected and very rushed exit from the place.


All Project Ferret Site Rules apply, so nothing above K+ or the Veil awaits you!

[chad13]

The Night of Many Returns

Remus Lupin was no stranger to hiding out, but on his own he would not have chosen a muggle’s house quite like this one. Lupin was usually more inclined to take up in smaller dwellings, out of the way. Without an address of his own he more often than not was found borrowing other people’s, but this time it was different. He was under strict orders to lay low, and at this location specifically.

It was once his grandfather's house. His mother had been a muggle, his father a wizard, and Remus had spent much of his very early years here. After he’d gotten sick of course, the family had to move out to the country, quite a ways off. His grandparents had sold the place not long after. Lupin had not returned to the house in years.

It was a large building, stone, three stories high. Lupin had no desire to reminisce, or explore, he sat awkwardly in the kitchen examining how time had changed so much. The homey kitchen of his childhood had been transformed into the cookie cutter modern magazine image kitchen of the day. The dishwasher, which had not yet been installed in the ancient house when Lupin was young, stared back at him from across the room with its metallic glare. He did not get up to examine it further, the machinery was a bit to alien for him, and the “dishwasher” label printed across the front was enough explanation as to its purpose. The clock in the hallway chimed one.

Lupin looked back down at the parchment clutched in his hands, a letter from Dumbledore, about the Triwizard Tournament, and more importantly, the events that had followed.

Lupin had been following the tournament in the Prophet ever since the news of Harry’s nomination had reached his ears. He knew the front page tomorrow would never get close to Dumbledore’s letter.

The key in the message, beyond Voldemort's return, was that Sirius would be on his way to meet Lupin, at this address, and soon. Lupin had not seen Sirius since the Shrieking Shack incident a year ago. Lupin had known Sirius would not seek him out for help when they’d parted so suddenly, it was not in Sirius’s nature; things were different now. Sirius wasn’t coming for help, he was coming to help, if it wasn’t already to late.

Lupin rubbed a patched knee absent mindedly when a great crash met his ears. He jumped to his feet, wand raised, looking for the source of the disturbance.

“Lumos,” he whispered. Lupin had not taken the chance of turning on any of the muggle electric bulbs.

Lupin turned in a slow circle examining every inch of the kitchen now bathed in magical light, but there was nothing there.

Suddenly a light tapping from behind him broke the silence. Spinning around Lupin caught sight of a disheveled owl sitting outside the closed the window, tapping the glass. Lupin let out a long sigh, realizing that for the past few moment he had actually stopped breathing.

“Alohamora,” Lupin said, opening the window and taking the new scroll the owl held out to him before it took off, back into the darkness.

Unrolling the parchment Lupin read quickly, his heart still racing. Looking up, Lupin gave the kitchen a last fleeting glance before sprinting out into the hall and through the front door into the night.

[lupinsmyman]

Welcome Home



“Ow! That was my foot!”

“Shut up, James you whiner!”

“Lumos!”

Light glowed from a wand. Two teenage boys found themselves in a damp, drafty, shed with one window and a single dreary lightbulb hanging on a string. Knives and hatchets of every shape and size surrounded them. Here and there slabs of dried meat hung from the ceiling. The smell of blood was in the air. Sirius Black and James Potter looked at each other nervously.

“I thought the point of me running away was to not end up killed.”

“You’re not going to die. The previous owner was a butcher, but he’s long gone now. The only way to get close to the house is through this shed. C’mon. There’s got to be a door in here somewhere…”

James pushed his glasses back up on his nose. In the summer before their seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius had decided to leave the Black household. Of course, James had to help him find a place to stay.

The answer came to him when he remembered that he had been walking down the hallway one evening last year and noticed a door he had never seen before. Being a marauder, it was in his nature to open it. It led to a tunnel, and the tunnel led to the shed.

James grabbed the handle of the door and pushed, stumbling out into the warm summer sun. It was an unusually bright day in England. The pale blue sky cast few shadows on surrounding trees. But the sun seemed to be teasing the boys for the house in front of them was as dark and foreboding as a moonless night.

It had one story, a flat roof, and two chimneys that leaned tragically over. At the front of the house, three windows sat at various heights. One was shattered, while the other two remained whole but where covered in cobwebs and their shutter dangled uselessly.

Below a duct-taped doorknob was a sign that read “NO TRESPASSING”, in bright red letters. The door itself was painted an ugly yellow-ish green.

But none of this was quite as terrible as what the house was constructed of. It was as if the builder simply ran out of materials halfway and did a terrible job of improvising. Bricks of every color, wood, old and crumbling, large rocks, aluminum cans, cardboard boxes, an old mattress, several shoes, and even a few bones (whether human or other wise, James couldn’t tell) could all be seen mashed together to form walls.

“Well,” sighed Sirius, “Home, sweet, home.” He opened the door and walked in.

James followed, noting the crunching of glass from the broken window underneath his feet. The house was supposed to have been abandoned, but something was off.

There was a kitchen with dishes piled high in the sink, but no table. The bathroom had a toilet and an old-fashioned tub but no sink or mirrors.

Sirius grinned, making his way into the only room and plopping himself onto the mattress and moth-eaten blankets.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but I can get used to that,” he stated. He pulled himself up and walked back into the kitchen. Humming, he opened the pantry door and examined its contents.

[Amunet]

Curiosity Got the Wizard

‘This is just fantastic … first I leave my pinky in Leeds and now I left my eyes in Diagon Alley.’

Ron Weasley thinks when he can’t see a thing after trying to apparate for the second time during his test.

‘I’m never going to hear the end of it from Fred and George.’

Soon, Ron’s vision comes back to him and he realizes that it’s pouring down rain and his shoes are already getting soggy.

‘Stupid rainstorms, they always make me loose my vision when I try to apparate. Must be from me getting too nervous. '

Once Ron pulled his thoughts together, he suddenly noticed that he had, once again, mis-apperated.

‘… What happened to the ground?!’


This time, all of his body parts where they should be, except he came two feet from apparating on the very edge of a cliff where he could have fallen off once he became solid. Thankfully, Ron did not fall to his death; instead he just became frozen in his spot, half from the cold rain and half from ….

‘Bloody hell I almost DIED!’

Eventually he snapped out of his shock once he realized that he is almost always dead. For some odd reason it made him feel a bit better about the whole cliff mishap. Backing away slowly from the cliff edge in front of him, he began to look at the surroundings to his left and right.

‘Right: Bush. Mountain. Grass. Left: Fence, Cottage, Warmth.’

On his right wasn’t much, just some greenery and the rest of the mountain protruding towards the sky. Ron’s left was much more interesting; he turned to face the short, peeling, white fence which attempted to protect a very old, but yet, warm looking stone cottage. Taking into full account that Mister Ron B. Weasley is a wizard that popped out of thin air onto someone’s property that MAY be a muggle, he approached the cottage cautiously.

‘Yes! A place to dry off, I should get inside quickly before I get completely soaked.’

After peering through the windows (briefly) and concluding that no one was home, he turned the copper door handle and pushed open the door with ease. Upon entering, the young wizard shut the door and roamed the cottage in hopes of finding a spot to concentrate on getting back to Diagon Alley.

‘Where’s the food in this place?’

Before completing his quest, he ever so gracefully fell over an object left in the middle of the sitting room floor.

‘AHHH I’m going down!!!’

Upon further inspection …

‘Ow’

Ron found that the object he tripped on was something his muggle obsessive father would be very interested in. It was a square shape but with rounded edges, it was completely white with a bitten apple etched into the top and it had a long white tail that connected to the wall. The graceful lad wasn’t sure whether to curse at it or inspect it further to tell his father about his find.

‘FOOOOOOOOOOD’

After careful deliberation, Ron figured it was best to leave the flat fruit square on the floor and venture into the rest of the cottage.

‘That was only round one … bloody fruit creature.’

Connected to the sitting room was a very small, yet comfy kitchen. It was decorated in yellow-checkered wallpaper with wood floors, wood countertops and an odd sort of collection of non-magical salt & peppershakers imaginable. The one that most caught his eye were the salt & peppershakers created in the image of a white queen and a black king chess piece on a mini chessboard.

‘I bet the muggles here wouldn’t have shakers like those if they could play wizard’s chess … salt EVERYWHERE!’

Snapping out of his thoughts, Ron turned his attention to the cupboards … which were empty.

‘Maybe that’s why they’re gone; going to get more food.’

Taking a quick glace out the window, he figured that he was dry enough and that he should try getting back to Dagon Alley.

‘Hmmm, I wonder what’s up those stairs …’

BUT, curiosity got the best of the red head and he followed his feet up the narrow steps leading up from the kitchen. Up on the landing, Ron followed the hallway and found that two doors led away from where he stood. Looking in the second one he found a big soft looking bed with neckties and women’s nicely organized in the closet carelessly left open.

‘Must be the mum and dad … which means this OTHER door ….’

Turning around, he opened the second door leading from the hall and stopped dead in his tracks. There, on a bed, under a blue fluffy comforter was a girl. Her age, he wasn’t sure, but she had long chestnut hair and girl undergarments (along with other items) scattered all over the floor.

‘Bloody hell! Next time I knock before coming in a house.’

Ron began to close to door quietly when the hinges screamed with agony, as if it had never been closed before. The slumbering girl stirred and mumbled, “Ghhnnpfhh.”

‘Run like the Gryffindor you are!!’

Normally Ron isn’t the bravest of sorts when it comes to exploring by himself, just like he never liked running much. But today, today Ron Weasley flew down those skinny steps, through that cheery kitchen, over the tricky fruit square in the sitting room …

‘Victory!’

… And out that glorious door like his feet were on mini brooms.

[McGonagall's Cat]

*note* I'm not in the running for the prizes, I just wanted to write for this because it's fun!




The Garage

With a loud crash and a purplish flash, gold sparks began raining down all around. “Purple?” thought Neville, “What Spell goes purple? Or was that Blue? It could have been blue, or violet.” His mind began to review the various Spells he was aware of, distracting him for a moment. Another flash caused the bushes he was hiding behind to sizzle and begin to smolder, prompting a frantic look around for safe refuge. “I sure wish I’d learned which…” but his thoughts were interrupted by the burning twigs crackling around his head. In a fear-motivated rush, he began to crawl, on hands and knees, toward the rear of the nearest house, keeping close to the row of hedges as he did so.

Being “in town” was difficult for Neville to deal with most days. There was too much going on for someone who’d grown up in the country to digest, even if it was Muggle activity. The people seems so intimidating busy. They rushed about, usually not even acknowledging the presence of someone so obviously out of his league, or looked at him as though he was intruding in their wonderful world.

"Which technically, I am," he mumbled to himself distractedly.

His head bumped into something fairly solid. “AH! One of those places they park their automobiles!” he said , and quickly ducked inside the smaller door on the side of it. He couldn’t see anything for the first few moments due to the difference in light-level inside. Once his eyes finally adjusted he could see that there was no car present, but there were a myriad of interesting items all about. A bench with cabinets above it ran the entire length of the far wall. Odd-looking devices sat on the floor near it, on it, around it, or up in the rafters. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he completely forgot about everything that was going on outside and crossed the room.

He’d known enough Muggles in Yorkshire to understand that the smooth plastic ropes, and the metallic ones that were stapled to some of the two by fours, carried electricity that the they used to make their appliances and machines work. He picked up a heavy item that had a smooth black handle. There was a clicky piece exactly where his index finger wanted to be, and a thin short twisted (“and sharp!” he realized when he touched it) metal piece sticking out from its nose. Unable to stop the urge, he clenched his finger on the clicky piece and the whole heavy lump came to life. The front spun too fast to see, it hummed in a grinding manner, and it vibrated so much that he dropped it. The sharp piece on the nose made a gouged-out trail across a couple inches of the top of the bench before it seemed to run out of steam. Completely baffled as to what the thing could be, Neville walked on a bit farther.

He could smell the comforting aroma of dried plant clippings and dirt, which caused him to relax a bit from the startling experience he’d just gone through. Plants and planting were much the same for Muggles as for Wizards, though they didn’t have any of the advantages Magical Folk had to assure their charges were happy and energetic. He sighed, “Poor Muggles.”

His foot banged into a rather large rectangular (though the corners were rounded and it had a handle on the very top and a spout on an upper corner) can. It smelled of petrol and made him gag. Beside it was a fairly large contraption that had four wheels the size of small cabbages. The platform these wheels attached to had a dark metal box attached on top that had odd protuberances and a waist-high tubular part that was obviously for holding onto.

“This must be some sort of vehicle they use to get around on!”

He pulled it away from the bench and stepped onto its platform, facing the part to be held onto. There wasn’t much room for his feet. Almost losing his balance immediately, instinctively he pulled on the handhold to keep from falling. It came toward him, unceremoniously dumping him backward onto the floor. It was then that he first heard the sirens whining their way very close.

Smoke was drifting in through the small gap below the huge closed door the Muggles drove their automobile through.

“OH!” Neville gulped in panic. He began to chant, “Deliberation, destination, determination,” soon disappearing in a swirl of robes - just as the wailing truck screeched to a halt nearby.