Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything that is spectacular. And I? I am but a penniless fanfic writer who can only tell the truth. Harry Potter is not mine, and never will be.

Challenge Name: Characters and Prompts challenge

Challenge Issuer: xCyaniide

Where?: Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum

Challenge: Pick a Character number and a Prompt number and write something with them. My character was Vincent Crabbe and my prompt was A remarkable experience.

Notes: So! A drabble/oneshot type thing series collection, eh? Not all of them will be challenges, but many will be. I hope you'll enjoy this start to the collection. :)

A remarkable experience?

Vincent Crabbe couldn't say he'd had one. Couldn't say he knew what one felt like - except maybe by parroting the words of his yearmates, who would reluctantly part with their remarkable experiences during hushed, secretive games of Truth or Dare and I Never. Vincent didn't participate in those anyway, on guard duty with Gregory instead, but he heard most of what was said.

Would you... come to the Ball with me?

The borrowed words were supposed to accompany a rush, a feeling, were supposed to be some kind of experience to remark on when it was over; whether the outcome was good or not, it was expected to be much discussed later on. But instead he felt... nothing much. The words were gravelly and reluctant in his throat. Nothing much. Perhaps at the rejection he felt just a faint relief, but then apparently he was supposed to be something called dejected or wounded or too proud to care, as he'd heard Pansy whisper to Daphne about Draco. Whatever those words meant, he couldn't say them when it came to it. Couldn't feel them, either, though he got the sense that that was less important. It was all about what you did and said, not what you wanted or needed or thought.

Had he ever been awed?

He couldn't say that, either. From birth he'd been around magic and, sure, he'd never been particularly good at it (he'd never been good at much, come to think of it, except maybe scaring people), but he was used to it. There was nothing remarkable about it. As he'd heard Blaise say once, Hogwarts was a let-down when they finally got there. You've got a wand. Now what? That's how it was. He'd learnt the word 'awed' from an essay of Hermione Granger's they'd got hold of once, and mocked endlessly. He'd not understood much of it, but he'd found out the meaning of that word and kept it to himself, something to treasure all on its own, something that was his. Vincent had always had a tendency to covet and obsess, and maybe that was why...

Vincent, what is the meaning of this report?

Well, what was the meaning of anything? Vincent was not inclined to ask such questions, but towards the end school had become such a drag, so unimportant. He was unremarkable at school work and so school was unremarkable to him. His parents' questions about his bad marks were easily brushed aside when nothing he did seemed to shine.

Until now.

Until they stood in that accursed classroom and he really thought about how much he hated it all. Nothing was remarkable or interesting for Vincent Crabbe, and he hated them all for it, hated them all for experiencing the things that he'd never had.

Until now.

Because it turned out hate was remarkable in itself.

Vincent suddenly wanted to shine - suddenly could shine. He'd practise for hours and hours and hours on end, on objects first of all, or just the wand movements or that delicious word, not needing to force it from his lips because it felt so natural; then on animals he'd trapped; then on people he'd managed to coerce, on his fellow students, fellow housemates even - he'd hurt them all.

Crucio. No longer reluctant gravel in his throat. No longer nothing much. No longer unremarkable day after unremarkable day: no, no - no, the power he could wield was his remarkable experience.

That one little word said it all for him.

There's a reason being full of awe is a bad thing.

And the people whom he hurt, once so doubting of him, were awed by the power he wielded.

Once they stopped screaming, anyway.

Just watch them squirm, Vincent, just watch their eyes shine with tears.