A/N: I was bored and wrote this for you. I might add more if other ideas pop up. Concept inspired by Rorschach's Blot… I really need to finish Odd Ideas to make sure I'm not writing anything similar.

Note: Shorts are mostly singular and have very little to do with each other in terms of continuity.

Variations on a Halloween Night

I

"Make Peter the Secret-Keeper?"

James Potter looked contemplative as he mulled this suggestion over. Nearby, his long-time friend Sirius Black waited on bated breath, a rather proud look in his eyes. His friend nodded vigorously.

"Just think about it! No one will ever think of interrogating him!" Sirius added on to reaffirm his stance. "They'll all be too busy going after me!"

James rubbed his chin. It was indeed an interesting proposal. Peter was never one to stand out. On top of that, his animagus form could prove useful if he needed to escape a sticky situation.

"Hmmm… that is true…" James hummed as he thought.

Sirius looked elated, happy that his brilliant plan was going to be accepted. If he was in dog form, his tail would have been wagging back and forth.

"Great! We can get this done tonight! Then I'll go moon a couple Death Eaters and be on my way! They'll all be too busy chasing me to give a hoot about little Peter!"

James chuckled.

"Okay, okay," James waved his hands gently. "Sounds like a plan. Just let me call Peter over here and we can cast the charm."

"Ahem."

A person cleared her throat icily behind them. Both men froze, mischievous looks vanishing in a heartbeat. James turned slowly to gaze upon his loving wife who, at the moment, was not looking too loving.

"Mind telling me what you two were talking about?" Her voice seemed to cause the room to become several degrees colder.

James swallowed hard.

"Er…" he worked his mouth, unable to say much else.

Lily Potter turned her sharp gaze towards Sirius, who visibly wilted.

"Well?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

Sirius laughed nervously and started waving his hands wildly.

"Well, you see… I thought we'd make Peter the Secret-Keeper… last place anyone would look… right?"

He faltered as Lily continued to stare at him. Several minutes passed. From personal experience, James knew this was not a good time to try to confront his wife. Padfoot was on his own. Sirius finally broke.

"Oh god, stop staring at me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was a stupid idea! I don't know what I was thinking! Just PLEASE stop staring at me like that!"

James winced as the proud scion of the House of Black was reduced to a blubbering heap on the floor. Wrenching his eyes away from the pitiful sight, James turned to his wife.

"Uh… Lily, dear…?" Damn his trembling voice. He was a Gryffindor was he not?

Unfortunately that Gryffindor bravery crumbled pretty when Lily was in one of 'those' moods.

"What?" She spat, clearly unhappy that James wanted a say in things. "You think it's a good idea?"

James did what every good husband would do in this situation: side with his wife.

"Of course not dear, I was just wondering what we should do? Sirius is way too big of a target if we really make him the Secret-Keeper… what do we do?" James shrugged helplessly.

Lily turned her glare onto her husband, her expression now tinted with annoyance and exasperation.

"Do you even know how the spell works?" She asked.

James avoided her eyes as he responded.

"Er… someone keeps a secret and no one else will be able to know that secret…?"

His wife smiled thinly.

"And why do you think that is?"

The black haired man was sweating bullets now. He suddenly felt like he was in Hogwarts being tested all over again.

"Because… because no one else is told…?" James voice was still quite uncertain. He couldn't shake the feeling that Lily was baiting him along.

Lily frowned. She spoke concisely in that same, reprimanding tone.

"So what makes you think Peter is capable of keeping any secret?"

James grew a bit indignant at that dig.

"He's a Marauder! He'll always keep his secrets! He didn't tell anyone when we were running around Hogwarts, did he?"

His wife was not impressed.

"I offered him twenty galleons and he told me exactly how to make that map you had back in school."

James swallowed again, throat suddenly very dry.

"He… he must've been threatened! You threatened him didn't you! Don't think I don't know your ways, woman!" James accused, pointing a dramatic finger at his wife.

Lily stared blandly at her husband.

"Even if I did, how would that help his case?"

James thought hard.

He thought.

And thought.

Nothing came to mind.

"Huh." James said plainly.

Lily nodded.

"He's a nice enough boy and all, but sometimes I wonder how he became your friend in the first place."

James shrugged.

"We Gryffs gotta stick together, you know?"

Lily sighed and shook her head despairingly. Those stupid House rivalries. That was a conversation she'd rather have a different day. She had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius crawling away.

She ignored the mutt.

"Anyway, the Fidelius?" Lily asked her husband.

"I guess we'll have to stick with Sirius then…" James sighed.

Lily shook her head.

"Not true. In fact, having the Secret-Keeper run around out in the open is possibly one of the most dangerous things we could possibly do at this time."

James ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"Then who do you suggest?" He asked, frustrated at their situation.

Lily smirked.

"Me."

II

"Shit! Lily, he's found us! Peter betrayed us! We gotta go! Go get Harry!"

Lily Potter sighed as she reached behind her favorite books

"Calm down, you idiot. We carry out Plan C," she said calmly as she rummaged around for a moment.

She pulled out a sleek Smith & Wesson Model 66 she bought for this very occasion.

"You remember how to use this?" Lily asked testily.

James gulped.

"Yeah," he managed, nervously, "But it's still Voldemort we're up against…"

Lily scoffed.

"That doesn't make him any less human," she paused thinking, before adding, "or whatever he is now."

"I hope you're right…" James gripped the gun, giving his wife a worried look.

He pointed the revolver at the door. Moments later, it burst open, revealing the Dark Lord himself.

"Hahaha! Prepare to die!" The man waved his wand grandly. "AVADA…"

James fired.

Voldemort coughed, stumbling backwards as the bullet passed through his left lung. Shakily, he waved his wand to cast a shield charm.

"P…"

By this time, James had already pulled the hammer back again. The next shot went high, catching the Dark Lord in the throat. The man collapsed in the doorway with a gurgle.

Lily shook her head disapprovingly.

"No, no. Remember what I told you? Three in the chest and two in the head. We're in optimal range, he shouldn't be too hard to hit."

James gritted his teeth and fired again. This time, the bulled found its mark and part of Voldemort's skull shattered into tiny fragments. James let out a sigh.

"It's over…"

Lily reached over and took the gun, placing two more shots into the Dark Lord's head.

"You can never be too sure."

III

At long last, he found the place.

Lord Voldemort chuckled darkly. Loyalty was such a fickle concept. All it took was a little bit of persuasion and one of the Potters' closest friends gave him their location. Picturing the tiny village of Godric's Hollow in his mind, Voldemort apparated.

He reappeared at the edge of the village, several hundred meters away from the hidden house he could now see. A feral grin appeared on the man's snake-like face as he stepped forward. The boy who was destined to end his life would die tonight.

*HOOONK!*

Voldemort barely had time to look to his right before a red van smashed into his side, sending him under the car and ending his life then and there.

The accident quickly drew a crowd and a squad car. A brown-haired, slightly overweight man was standing outside his car, panic apparent on his face. Two officers approached him warily in case he decided to run.

"Sir, are you alright? What happened?"

The man turned his wild eyes on the two men in uniform.

"I didn't see him! He jumped right out in front of my car!"

The officer nodded. He brought out a portable breathalyzer.

"Sir, can you breathe into this for me?"

The man did as he was told; the machine read a flat zero.

"Well sir," the officer sighed putting the device away, "We'll need you to come down to the station for us to run a drug test. But the way I see it, this was a complete accident."

The man nodded fervently.

"Yeah, of course." He ran a hand through his short, brown hair. "Oh, man… oh, geez…"

With that, the men left and the ambulance took the body of Lord Voldemort off to the local hospital for an autopsy.

James and Lily stood outside their cottage, invisible to the gathered crowd thanks to the Fidelius Charm.

"Huh." James said after a while. "Wonder if we can come out of hiding now?"

IV

One hundred meters.

Sirius was approaching. He would only get one shot at this. If he could pull this off, he would become virtually invisible for years to come. Not to mention the Ministry might reward him for pointing out who betrayed the Potters. Peter pretended not to notice the man shoving his way through the crowded area.

Fifty meters.

Peter turned and gasped dramatically so that several muggles turned and gave him a curious glance. He backed away fearfully, strategically placing himself near the sewage drain that would be his escape route. He raised a trembling hand, pointing at the approaching man

"Sirius Black! Stay away! You get away from me!"

Twenty-five meters.

The muggles closest to Peter were backing away uncertainly, wondering what this raggedy-looking man was shouting about. This was it. Now was the moment to execute the plan. Sirius was close enough that the blast would stun him, just long enough for the aurors to show up and arrest him. As an added bonus, he would probably kill a good couple of people nearby as well. Peter inhaled a large lungful of air, preparing to bellow out his accusations.

"HOW…"

Five meters.

Wait.

That wasn't right.

He was too close.

Sirius was no longer pushing his way through the crowd. Instead, he was running full tilt towards his target. Peter had one terrifying glance at angered eyes and bared teeth before he felt a fist slam into his jaw.

The world reeled as he flew back several meters. His head spun violently as he tried to regain enough focus to transform.

But it was too late. A world of blinding pain descended on the man as his former friend bore down on him, magic all but forgotten. Blows rained down on Peter's weak body, quickly sending him into the realm of unconsciousness. He only had one thought as he passed out.

'Shit.'

Panting, Sirius Black stood from the broken, bloody body of Peter Pettigrew. People around him were looking at him in shock and some in fear.

Sirius froze.

In his rage, he completely forgot he was in an open muggle street in broad daylight. We was probably going to get arrested now and Peter would be treated like some kind of victim! Sirius thought fast, something Lily once said coming to mind.

He stepped off the lifeless body and laughed sheepishly at the gathered crowd.

"Sorry folks, we're filming an experimental movie. Had to get your raw reactions and everything, you know?"

There were several mutters of 'ah' and 'crazy kids'. Eventually the crowd dispersed. Sirius took the opportunity to cast a muggle-repelling charm before lifting Peter's body like a sack of potatoes.

"Right… let's see if Amelia can't help me with this."

V

(Not Halloween, but related)

Albus Dumbledore couldn't take it anymore. Any more of this and he felt he would go insane.

'Merlin!' He swore to himself as his gaze became glassy. 'This woman talks way too much.'

Before him, a bespectacled, frizzy-haired woman was gibbering away about all the amazing predictions she had made just this year alone. Something about saving someone's life. Something about someone being eternally grateful. Frankly, he lost track two minutes in when a quick Legilimens revealed that she was lying out of her ass. He had spent the last thirty minutes listening to her list her nonexistent job qualifications.

Albus wanted to scream.

But that would be unprofessional, so instead he put on his most attentive face, benevolent smile and all, and simply spaced out as the woman continued in her attempts to convince him that she was a real seer. After a few more minutes, he decided to make use of his time and started mentally organizing things he would need to do.

Hire a real seer, that one was still pending. Maybe Hogwarts could go a year without Divination. Maybe this was a good time to get rid of that class. Honestly, the course wasn't too reliable anymore once people like the mentally unstable woman in front of him started showing up to make easy money. He would consult Minerva on the matter, but she was usually pretty vocal on what she thought about the subject in general.

Restock Potions supplies. Horace kept pestering him about that. While the man was a good Potions Master, the man could be downright insufferable if he wanted to be. In Albus's opinion, it was about time for him to retire. The man had gotten a little too comfortable with 'collecting' students for his little club. But the question of who to replace Horace with was the single factor keeping Albus from just letting the man go. Potions wasn't a throw-away class like Divinations, the subject could actually be pretty dangerous if one wasn't attentive enough. Perhaps he could ask a former student to teach, at least temporarily if they didn't want the job permanently. Lily Potter was always brilliant in whatever she did, maybe she could take over. But no, she would probably want to stay home with little Harry. Decisions, decisions.

As he filed that thought away for later, Albus idly wished the woman would stop freaking out, it was distracting him from his thoughts.

Brooms. He'd have to take care of that soon. He recently hired Rolanda so the student's would be able to have a bit of fun on top of all their schoolwork. Almost immediately, the Quidditch coach wanted new brooms, saying something about the ones they had not being up to scratch. Then again, there hadn't been any accidents yet and students had yet to complain about it. Perhaps she was just being overly cautious.

"…seventh month dies…"

Albus let out a long sigh. It was time to end this farce of an interview. He turned his attention back on the self-proclaimed seer, noticing that she suddenly looked rather alarmed and disoriented.

'Great.' He thought to himself. 'Mental instability to top it all off. Wonder if she's a Pureblood'

Albus cleared his thoat magnanimously.

"I will consult with my fellow staff and we will let you know of our decision soon."

"But…" the woman started to protest.

Albus held up a hand in a rather regal gesture for silence.

"We'll be in touch."

Shaking his head, the Headmaster of Hogwarts got up to leave. As Albus left the room, he noticed an unconscious man just outside the doorway. It was a bit dark so he couldn't really tell who it was. However, he could tell that the man was unconscious and had been that way for quite some time from the footprints on the man's back and pool of stale urine around the man's pants. A quick glance into the main bar area showed a rather rowdy bunch cheering and chugging drinks. Aberforth looked rather panicked as he did everything in his power to prevent the group from destroying his bar. Albus quickly put two and two together.

He sighed sadly.

'Poor man must have gotten knocked out trying to escape the chaos. Oh well.'

VI

(Again, not Halloween, and now hardly related)

"Albus, what do we do?"

James Potter looked quite upset at the news. Who wouldn't be after finding out their son was destined to vanquish one of the darkest Dark Lords ever to step foot in Britain? The old man looked his age, weary and sad.

"I think it would be best for you to go into hiding. The Fidelius charm would be best."

Lily cleared her throat. Both men looked over.

"We don't have to worry about Voldemort."

"Are you crazy? Why wouldn't we worry!" James demanded. "He's after Harry!"

Lily sighed and shook her head.

"James, the Potter name carries a lot of weight, you know?"

"So?" Her husband frowned stubbornly. "I don't care about these stupid lineages."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Well you should." She chided. "You have quite a bit of pull in the magical community, both within Britain and internationally."

"So?" James repeated.

"I made a few calls. They said that, for a fee, our Dark Lord problem could be easily taken care of."

Albus Dumbledore cleared his thoat.

"Sorry, Mrs. Potter, but who exactly did you contact?"

Lily looked rather proud of herself.

"Magical branch of the CIA in the Americas."

Somewhere, a certain Dark Lord's head exploded in a cloud of pink mist and brain matter. David Webb checked in with his superiors and eventually boarded the next flight back home.

A/N: Moral of the story (some of them at least): Lily Potter née Evans was not the smartest witch of her day just so she could die a dog's death.

Cookies if you can figure out where III and VI are referenced from. VI should be the easier of the two, it's pretty blatant. III is pretty vague, I'm not sure how the reference even came to me while writing.

I'll admit, I haven't read the series in years, I actually think I didn't read the seventh. Hell, since I knew I didn't read the seventh book, I didn't even watch the two parts of Deathly Hallows. I'll probably post more ideas once I re-read (and finish) the series.

Broken (idea and edits by Shao, darker story)

This world is broken. Someone needs to fix it.

Tom Marvolo Riddle stalked silently through the streets of London, caught up in his own thoughts. He ignored the muggles around him, though their behavior was not lost on the intelligent boy. The muggle world was at war. The wizarding world too was at war: facing the greatest foe they ever faced, Grindelwald. No one was safe. It simply involved too many nations to ignore

And for the first time, Tom chose to spend his holidays outside Hogwarts. Convincing Slughorn to sign off on a release form proved to be a much harder task than he anticipated. The self-serving old codger knew about the war – after all, who didn't? He was more reluctant to grant this request, especially when Hogwarts nearly refused to let anyone go home for the holidays.

Luckily, Slughorn eventually caved in once it was known that plenty of students were returning to their homes for the holidays. Being forced to stay inside Hogwarts was, for once, something Tom would not stand for. He needed to be out there, to see what the world was coming too outside the gilded walls of the magical world.

After all, wartime is a time of learning. You just need to know where to look.

As he walked, his paused as his ears picked up a familiar voice.

"But it is also a help to our country and to our whole Empire, and to our decent faithful way of living that, however long the struggle may last, or however dark may be the clouds which overhang our path, no future generation of English-speaking folks – for that is the tribunal to which we appeal – will doubt that, even at a great cost to ourselves in technical preparation, we were guiltless of the bloodshed, terror and misery which have engulfed so many lands and peoples, and yet seek new victims still."

Several bar patrons sat huddled around a rusty old radio. They were listening to old Churchill speeches, taking what little comfort they could in the man's charismatic and inspiring words.

Tom scoffed. Indeed, Nazi Germany was not the only factor to blame. No, every person in this disgusting, amoral world held some small part. That much he knew. His recent expeditions into the muggle world revealed at least that much.

"Long, hard, and hazardous years lie before us, but at least we entered upon them united and with clean hearts."

Tom left, a scowl on his face. It was amazing the kind of drivel the people around him were willing to accept.

He found himself outside a large domed building. A cathedral, he idly noted.

Was it St. Paul?

St. John?

Whatever, it didn't matter.

In such a dark world, the weak would seek out any speck of light they could see. No matter how terrible the situation was, people would find time to pray to deities who showed no compassion towards the self-inflicted sufferings of man.

Tom stared up at the grand building. It was exquisitely built. Too bad it was a big target; he doubted it would survive the war.

As if on cue, an explosion rang out throughout the high-strung city. People immediately started screaming, running for shelter. Wanting to take it all in, Tom turned his eyes to the sky. His brown eyes widened as he watched something fall from an aircraft flying high above the city of London.

Moments later, an explosion sent him into blissful unconsciousness.

.

.

.

He stirred, body aching with a dull pain. Blearily, he opened his eyes. Staring around, he found himself in the middle of what appeared to be the wreckage of some building. He thought hard, trying to recall what had happened.

Ah, yes.

He was caught in the middle of a bombing. He looked around, surprised to find that the cathedral was still standing. Tom found this immensely funny as he chuckled to himself.

Apparently whatever deities there were out there were quite vain, caring more for the protection of a building rather than the lives of the followers.

Groaning, Tom got up and walked away, mildly amused that no one seemed to notice his movements. As he walked away from the cathedral, he surveyed the nearby destruction. It was indeed an interesting occurrence that the nearby buildings would be in such a state of destruction while the cathedral stood proud. The papers littering the streets seemed to indicate it was a miracle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that he was unconscious for two days. His stomach growled, reminding him of the missed meals. He altered his routed, deciding to return to the Leaky Cauldron for a hot meal and some rest.

As he continued walking the broken streets, a ragged-looking man approached him, one hand outstretched pitifully.

"Some help fer ye fellow man? Please, sonny, I's only askin' fer a little change."

Tom tried to shake him off, but the homeless man persisted. Turning, Tom entered a narrow alleyway and the man followed. Halfway into the dark, dank alleyway

"Please, sir, I's only tryin' to get by…"

The boy sneered coldly as he responded.

"There is no place in this world for the weak."

Tom pressed his hand into the man's distended gut, focusing, trying to recall the same feelings he felt just seconds before the bombs hit. He was rewarded as a burst of energy flowed through his palm. It pierced the homeless man, sending blood and viscera splattering against the alley wall. The man whimpered slightly as the pain struck.

'Happy birthday to me,' Tom mused within his own mind as the homeless vagabond slumped against the wall, a trail of blood following as he slid towards the ground.

With that, he turned and left, heading back to his room in the Leaky Cauldron, a feral grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

This world is broken. I can fix it.