From Random Elements A Story Make, bi-weekly challenge Options

[McGonagall's Cat]

Rob Balder over at Live Journal posted this recently in his LJ :

I created a writing exercise for short stories using that random button.

The simplest way to write a short story is to create a main character, put them in a setting, give them a problem, and introduce a complication, usually in the form of an antagonist.

It's a great Idea and I am stealing it to challenge Ferrets with!

On the Full Moon and New Moon each month a new "Randomly Generated" Challenge will be proffered.



Sir Nicholas *cough* will also award a small prize to the best submission in each bi-weekly challenge. ("best" being a relative term, may come from polling, or just the capricious whims of the Staff.)

[lupinsmyman]

Sir Nicholas and the "Things"


Sir Nicholas De Mimsey- Porpington or “Nearly- Headless Nick” as the Hogwarts students had taken to calling him, didn’t particularly like being a ghost. Sure floating through walls had its advantages but what about food and wine and the other things one could enjoy as a mortal? He missed those things.

Nick looked around the circular room that was the Ghost’s lounge. It was rather gloomy and depressing. Only a few candles hung on the walls and just two rag-tag chairs furnished it. Not a very welcoming place unless you were the Bloody Baron.

Sir Nick was considerably gloomy today because once again, he had been not been accepted in the Headless Hunt. Ghost horses and their headless riders rushing past him every five minutes did help his attitude. But he decided that sitting around moping wasn’t going to help the situation and he floated through the wall out into the dark corridors.

Muffled wailings came from a bathroom on the second floor.

Bother that Myrtle. Always screeching and crying until someone comes down and pays attention to her. I guess it’s my duty to put a stop to it as best as possible.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting in a large cauldron of what looked to be bubbling mud, twirling her pigtails and sobbing.

“Myrtle! You must stop that indecent racket immediately! I will not hesitate to retrieve the Bloody Baron.”

“Alright!” she screeched, now floating above her favorite toilet. “You’d be crying too if no one ever talked to you anymore!” and with that she plunged headfirst down the bowl.

Grateful for her departure, Nick leaned over the cauldron. It smelled of rotten eggs and bubbled noisily.

“Polyjuice,” he whispered under his breath. The headmaster would have to know about this!

The now early morning light streamed through Albus Dumbledore’s office. Fawkes the phoenix made a tinkling noise as Nick glided into the room.

“How can I help you this fine morning, Sir Nicholas?” Dumbledore asked coolly. He stared at Nick through his half-moon spectacles.

“I found a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I suspect a student brewed it,” Nick answered.

“Ah, the matter has already been taken care of. Three young Gryffindors were – experimenting. One unlucky girl will be spending the next few days in the hospital wing as a consequence.”

Nick Merely nodded. He didn’t get to help with anything around the castle much, being dead and all.

“I do have a favor to ask of you. In the Secret Room across from the painting of Barnabas the Barmy there is a Mirror. I need you to stand guard over this mirror until the retriever arrives. But whatever you do, do not look into it,” Dumbledore said.

Nicks face lit up as he muttered a quick, “I will, sir,” and glided out of the room and past the painting of Trolls trying to do ballet.

Here we are. Now, I need to find the mirror Dumbledore asked me to guard. I need to find the mirror Dumbledore asked me to guard.

A door appeared in the plain wall before him. Nick entered. Inside the room a single large mirror faced away from the door. It was beautifully encrypted with gold words that read Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi.

Nick had a feeling that he shouldn’t look into the mirror so he turned around and faced the door, taking his place as guard. Hours past like days, days like months until Nick was so agitated he could barely stand still. The pressure of mirror was always in his mind. He took several deep breaths fighting the temptation to take a peek into it.

Get a hold on yourself, Nicholas. What would Dumbledore say if I, a Gryffindor, broke the only rule he gave me?

Suddenly, without warning, Myrtle came flying into the room, hands over her eyes. She rammed into Nick before he had a chance to move. Next thing he knew he was floating inside a silvery-blue substance that was neither liquid nor gas. It was pleasantly warm but Nick had goose bumps nonetheless. He was inside the mirror.

He looked around taking in his surroundings. Outstanding things rushed past him quickly; a Quidditch cup, a unicorn, someone’s daughter, someone’s dog, a dragon, a huge house, and Lily and James Potter. The rushing things (Nick didn’t know what they were exactly) sped up faster and faster. All but one, which greatly resembled Nick himself. It stopped right in front of him.

The Other Nick was much younger and beaming a big grin. There was no cut around his neck. The real Nick gasped. It was him before he died. Why was this odd mirror showing these things? Did all mirrors trap ghosts who enter them? Would he be stuck here forever?

Just then Myrtle let out an ear-piercing shriek. But it wasn’t like her normal shrieks; it was happy.

“Myrtle? Myrtle, where are you?” Nick called out. He turned around, frantically looking for the little girl. Then he saw her. She was standing in front of a boy who looked much like her. He had dark hair, a few freckles, and large thick glasses.

“Marvin! Marvin! Look Nicky, it’s Marvin! My brother Marvin! Hi Marvy!” Myrtle exclaimed. It was odd to see her so happy and excited.

“Come, Myrtle. We’ve got to get out of here,” Nick said sternly. The little boy looked up at him angrily. Nick grabbed Myrtle’s hand and pulled her away from the boy she called Marvin. He zoomed off with the other memories (at least that’s what Nick was thinking they were) as soon as their eyes broke apart.

Nick felt himself being pulled and with a thump he landed on the floor in front of Dumbledore who had his wand out and another tall but much younger man with reddish hair.

“What kind of mirror is this that it takes hold of ghosts inside it?” Nick asked sharply.

“It is called the Mirror of Erised. It shows what your heart truly desires,” The red-haired man replied.

“Sir Nicholas, Myrtle, this is Mr. Grady, he’s here to take the mirror,” Dumbledore said.


Some hours later Nick and Myrtle sat alone in the Ghost’s lounge. Myrtle was hunched over a transparent piece of paper called Ghost Parchment. Ghosts used it to send messages to other ghosts since, obviously, they couldn’t hold real paper.

“What’s that Myrtle?” Nick asked intrigued.

“Its from my brother Marvin, the one in the mirror, he gave it to me,” she whispered.

“What does it say?” Nick said as Myrtle passed the paper to him.

Every day spent crying is a day longer you are away. Dry your eyes, sister and all will be well if you allow it to be.

I have not forgotten you,
Marvin