All Challenges and Competitions written below.
Word Count: 1937
Third Year; Divination.
~OoO~
"I don't know how you do it, Padma," Parvati says, her voice taking on a playfully exasperated tone. The Gryffindor sits with crossed legs on one of the library chairs, hands absently toying with her glitter-charmed quill as she pointedly ignores the heap of scrolls piled beside her.
Padma only smiles complacently, one hand still scribbling with her quill while the other brushes back a wayward strand of curling black hair. "It's not that bad," she supplies as an answer, only half focusing on the conversation. Her mind is preoccupied trying to remember anything useful from the day's class.
At Parvati's dubious snort, Padma gives up and sets down her quill, turning to face her sister. "Come on, Parvati. At least it's just Transfiguration — better than History of Magic, right?"
Parvati sighs. She twirls her quill in her hand, absently biting the bottom of her lip. Righting her posture, she grabs one of the stacked scrolls and unfurls it. Padma waits patiently as Parvati scrawls a few words onto the parchment, resisting the urge to resume her own homework. She knows by now that her sister is one for dramatic effects.
Finally, Parvati groans loudly, throwing down her quill and crossing her arms with the exclamation of, "I just don't like any of these classes!"
"Well that's obvious," Padma says as she lies a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. Parvati pouts as Padma pats her shoulder. There is a hint of true exasperation in her tone as Parvati says, "You're a Ravenclaw; you love studying. You wouldn't understand."
Padma blinks. She stares at Parvati's face, identical to her own — it's almost like looking in the mirror. Sometimes Padma forgets, looking at her twin, that they are very, very, different.
Again, she smiles, though this time there is a hint of melancholy in her voice as she replies, "Yeah; perhaps I don't."
"You really don't, sis." Parvati stands and brushes off her sister's hand. She turns to gather her stuff, tucking her pile of parchments into a bag and slinging it over her shoulder. When she faces Padma again, there is an impish grin on her lips.
"But it's alright, you're my sister, and I love you," Parvati pauses before slyly adding, "Even if you're a Ravenclaw."
Padma only rolls her eyes, used to her sister's antics. "Love you too, Parvati," she responds, already moving to grab her quill and resume her work.
"Wait!" Parvati suddenly exclaims, grabbing Padma's wrist. Padma's senses jump to alertness, right hand already flying to grab her wand.
Parvati laughs, leaning in so that the two are barely a hand away from each other. She moves a hand near Padma's face, gently brushing something away.
"You had an eyelash hanging over your eye," Parvati says in response to Padma's bemused look, raising her hand to show said lash on the tip of her finger. "Make a wish."
"You know I don't —"
"Come on, once doesn't hurt, right?"
"Fine." Padma closes her eyes, mind scrambling for a wish to make. An idea sparks in her mind, and she smiles as leans in and blows the eyelash away.
I wish Parvati will find a class she'll enjoy.
Fourth Year; Triwizard Tournament.
~OoO~
Most Ravenclaws tend to spend their free days in the common room. Of course, there are those who bring the occasional book outside and sit on the soft grass near the Great Lake, or some who are inclined to indulge themselves with a trip to Hogsmeade when the occasion arises. The majority, however, prefer the comfort of the common room.
Padma is no different.
With the Triwizard Tournament in action, the things one can do in the blue and bronze tower has expanded enormously. From theorising about tasks to calculating the most likely winners, bets are flying everywhere.
Normally, Padma would join her housemates in the fun and make a few theories of her own, but she'd entered in a bet already; one unrelated to the tournament but one that she would win.
Which is the reason she's holding Seamus Finnigan's fiddle in her hand, half attempting to work out the pile of music scores in front of her and half attempting to suppress the increasing aggravation she's feeling.
Padma takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and telling herself to forget the hustle and bustle of the common room.
"Just a distraction," she whispers to herself, picking up the bow again. She shifts the fiddle, trying in vain to find a comfortable position that won't result in sore shoulders or a tense back.
Padma has spent all day mastering the instrument, having woken up before her alarm and skipping her breakfast to get an early head start. She was almost there; so, so, close to perfecting the song. Just those last three bars, she could never play them right in one go.
"Padma. Padma!"
Padma jolts back, pulling the bow sharply against the fiddle strings. The sound released is high and screechy, and loud enough to rival a banshee. Mumbling a few apologies to the voiced grumbles of annoyance, Padma turns to ask the girl who'd called her name. "What is it?"
"You've been playing that thing all day," the girl deadpans, gaze pointedly darting towards the fiddle still clasped tightly in Padma's hand.
As Padma slowly starts to bring the bow up again, the girl continues, "Your sister's waiting for you outside."
The fiddle is forgotten as Padma rushes outside the common room.
Parvati is pacing in front of the door, seemingly lost in thought as she ignores the knocker's constant riddles. Padma steps out and hushes the knocker with an absent reply of, "It's keyhole; 'goes through a door but never goes in and never comes out'."
"Finally!" Parvati exclaims as she whirls around. Padma isn't sure if she's talking about the riddles or the fact that it took her so long to get out the common room.
"What's —"
"I don't have a date for the ball, and I know that doesn't mean anything to you since you're a Ravenclaw and Merlin knows how you guys are — but it's really important to me, and I just want to find someone and have a nice dance and —"
Padma places her hand on her sister's shoulders, forcing her to stop. "Parvati," she says slowly, articulating each sound. Parvati only gives her a worried glance.
"Parvati, look at yourself; you're gorgeous."
"We're gorgeous," Parvati corrects, voice muffled as she turns her head away, cheeks dusting pink. The beginnings of a smile drift across her features and Padma feels a lightness in her heart at the fact that there is no longer worry creasing Parvati's face.
"You'll find a date, and it'll be fine. There are still four days until the ball, that's a lot of time, right?"
Parvati nods, determination lighting her eyes. She moves and Padma drops her hands, matching Parvati's confident grin with a soft smile.
Later, as she's getting ready for bed, Padma brushes her hand against her face while attempting to swat away something that had flown into her eye. The gentle darkness that envelops the room does nothing to help her vision, nevertheless, Padma catches the hint of something on her hand.
A closer look reveals an eyelash. Biting her lip, Padma hesitates for a split-second before quietly saying to herself, "It worked the last time. There's no harm in trying again."
She closes her eyes and huffs a long breath.
I wish Parvati will find a date.
Seventh Year; The Battle Of Hogwarts.
~OoO~
It's quiet in the library. Padma is the only one there, wrists aching from clutching heavy tomes and fingers still stinging from numerous paper cuts. Everyone has to find their own way to deal with what's coming, to prepare for the battle — Padma's way is research.
Still, there is something horribly disheartening about the silence in the library. Usually, Padma would have loved it — silence, pure, blissful silence in the library. It's such a rare occurrence that pretty much every Ravenclaw had mutually agreed it to be amongst the list of 'highly improbable to such extent that it can be declared 'impossible''.
With a heavy sigh, Padma picks up another book, dropping it unceremoniously on her lap. Her heart isn't quite in it anymore, too preoccupied with thoughts of what will happen to properly focus.
Padma's eyes skim the pages, understanding each word but making no effort to join the meanings together.
She's about to give up, close the book and maybe try to find some of her housemates, when a word catches her eye.
Wishes.
Padma continues reading.
". . . each witch or wizard is able to wish upon certain insignificant items throughout their life and these wishes will be granted. The practice has been picked up by Muggles who now believe that wishing upon things such as eyelashes, shooting stars, and dandelions. It is, however, only people with magical blood that are granted these wishes."
"Oh," Padma whispers softly, and the realisation that dawns on her washes away all her worries and fears, if only for a second.
~OoO~
It's endless, this constant rhythm of dodging and ducking and hexing. Padma's heart is in her throat and she feels her head pounding as she spins and twists, incandescent light whirling all around her as battles are waged with blood and magic.
Every so often, a particularly bright blast of magic will illuminate the corridor and Padma is able to see beyond whoever she's duelling.
She hates those moments; hates them because all she can see is the sheen of listless eyes that will never move again; hates them because the amount of bodies lining the cold stone floor is abhorrent; hates them because every time she sees beyond this duel of hers, people are dying.
"Parvati! Where are you?" Padma yells as she turns, throwing a flashing orb of magic in the direction of a Death Eater. Just a moment ago, they'd been duelling together, magic intertwining as easily as when they were children.
Padma ducks a curse and moves aside in time to see her sister sprinting for the staircase. "Parvati!"
Her scream is hoarse, lost in the confusion and chaos. She doesn't know what prompts her to say it, but as she throws her body into a shield charm against an incoming blast of glowing red, Padma hears the bitterness and biting sarcasm in her own voice, "Could you be happy here with me, for once?!"
~OoO~
When Padma finds her sister again, her heart stops. She's duelling Fenrir Greyback with Lavender, quick feet dancing along the rubble of the staircase as she leaps and dodges his snarling jaws.
Padma can't speak. She feels herself freeze, body paralysed and utterly defenceless as she stares at the battle commencing above her. They're not going to make it. The thought runs through her mind, quick and sure, and she hates herself for thinking so. But it's true.
And it is. Padma can see the exhaustion eating at Parvati's movements, the pain lining Lavender's face with each step she makes. They're not going to make it.
Lavender falls and Parvati follows soon after her. Greyback looms over them, drooling maul pulling back to reveal gleaming fangs.
The sound of Parvati's terrified scream breaks something in Padma and she feels her senses snap. Everything dissipates in Padma's mind except for the image of her sister, face twisting in terror.
As Greyback lunges, Padma clutches her wand so tightly she feels blood start to pour. Parvati. Her sister. Her sister is about to die.
I wish Parvati survives.
Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition:
CHASER 3: Write about a forgotten family. (The Patils)
Prompts:
4. (dialogue) "Could you be happy here with me?"
6. (object) fiddle
13. (scenario) a character is granted three wishes