A writing challenge using the prompt words Magic, earsplitting, argue, repeat, uncle, approval, receipt, married
Ginny leaned back and stretched, relieving the dull ache in her shoulders and neck. She had been working tirelessly for the past three hours, writing her report on the history of Magic for Professor Binns, and it was getting late in the evening. Outside, the wind had picked up, heralding the approach of a Spring thunderstorm, and blowing the drapes away from the open window in the dorm room. Rising from the desk, she crossed the room and pulled the shutters into place before closing the window.
Stretching her shoulders again, she felt the relief as muscles loosened, and a slight pop sounded as her spine straightened. Sighing heavily, she sat back down and looked over what she had written. Noting a misspelling, she used her wand to erase the ink from the parchment and corrected her mistake. “That should do it,” she muttered to herself and blew on the ink to dry it. Rolling the parchment and placing it in her satchel for class the next day, she paused as an earsplitting crack of thunder announced the arrival of the storm. Rain began to patter against the shuttered window, and the wind moaned as it whirled past the tower.
“I think I'll grab a snack before I go to bed,” she told herself and headed to the common room. As she descended the stairs, she heard voices from below. Ron and Hermione were almost blocking the door to the stairway as they discussed what to do together the upcoming weekend in Hogsmeade. Ginny nodded a greeting to her brother and friend, then crossed the floor to the circular entrance to the hallway.
“And where are you headed at this late hour?” came a familiar voice. Ginny stopped and turned to face Harry.
“I'm off to the kitchens to grab a snack. Want to come with me?”
“I won't argue, a snack sounds like a good idea. Let's go.” Harry took her by the hand and led the way.
Moving past the portrait guarding the entry to the Gryffindor common room, the pair quickly made their way down the stairs towards the kitchens. Once inside, the house-elves present were eager to help, offering an array of viands to tempt the palate. Ginny chose a small assortment of fresh fruit slices, while Harry took several Cauldron Cakes. “Thank you,” said the pair to the elves as they departed.
As they retraced their path to the Gryffindor common room, a sudden crash of thunder made the entire castle shiver, and the sound of crashing metal on the stone from below indicated that a suit of armor had likely been shaken from its place of display. “This storm is a bad one,” muttered Harry. “I hope we don't have a repeat of what happened during the last one.” Harry referred to the smashed glass of the greenhouses when the previous storm tore loose several limbs from the Whomping Willow.
“The thunder seems to be getting louder,” Ginny commented and held Harry's hand a bit tighter. “It seems almost unnatural!”
Before one could say 'Bob's your uncle', lightning flared through all the windows, followed almost immediately by the loudest peal of thunder yet. Everywhere, cries of alarm sounded from students and staff alike. Only Peeves the Poltergeist seemed unaffected as he sailed by, chuckling in approval.
Professor McGonagall appeared, her mouth set in a frown of disapproval. “You two, get back to your common room now! Tell everyone to stay there until I get back.” With that command, she scurried down the hallway.
Harry pulled Ginny along, acknowledging the receipt of their Head of House's command. Mere moments later, they stopped in front of the portrait that hid the entrance.
“Password?” inquired the lady in the painting.
“Married” replied Ginny and Harry in unison. The painting swung aside, and the couple clambered through the opening and into a now crowded Common Room.
“There you are,” exclaimed Ron, relief showing plainly on his face as he approached the two. “This storm's a bad one. The whole tower's been shaking.”
“A storm of this magnitude can only mean one thing,” stated Hermione. “Somewhere, someone has made a Weather Witch royally pissed.”
To Be Continued
By Someone Else
(A New Challenge)
Author's note: I enjoy the challenge of these exercises, and may occasionally continue onward with the story inspired by such. However, in this instance, I'm leaving this as is, and instead am challenging others to continue the tale, reusing the same words each time, and limiting each portion to a thousand words at most. How long of a story can we create?