A/N: So, I started this on the 28th June, the same day I took my last exam (thank god they're over and done with). I am now in the situation that I haven't written anything for a while, and I need to get into the groove again. So, I took a couple of prompts based on stuff I've seen or done recently, and decided to see what happened. Annoyingly, it's been slow going. While once I could knock out a CMM chapter in one afternoon (which occasionally hit 9k words) I now struggle to do 1k in one sitting. I am really rusty, and annoyingly I have a fair amount still on my plate. I know I've broken my promise in regards to CMM, but I just ask you guys to bear with me.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Prompt One : Alien Invasion (XCOM)
To say that the XCOM facility was secure would perhaps be an understatement. Actually, it would be the understatement of the century. Based deep in the South American jungles, and further inside an old cave network far underground sat the base. To even get near it undetected meant going through numerous traps, past innumerable sensors, and avoiding the satellites constantly pointing at the ground above. It was a herculean effort, and one that the designers of the base had been sure could not be achieved without alerting those within to their presence long beforehand.
This meant that the incredibly loud, echoing of four knocks upon the main exterior door leading into one of the tunnels to the surface was decidedly unexpected, and therefore met with appropriate action.
"Still no view from the cameras on the outside?" the man with a buzz cut and a military green jumper demanded as he walked towards the large metal doors with a hand on his earpiece.
"Negative, sir. Nothing from less than five minutes ago available," came the reply through the comms unit. The man frowned, surveying the men and women hefting rifles and pointing them towards the sealed entrance. "Open it up," he commanded after a few moments, removing his own standard issue pistol from its holster as he did, training it dead centre on the circular portal. It took a few seconds, but the door did spiral open, revealing an odd sight.
In the tunnel entranceway beyond, and just lit by the very early morning light was a motley group of characters, most hefting bags and backpacks, all fairly young, none above twenty five for sure. All in civvies, the military man noted, but on closer observation there were signs he could easily pick out – he'd seen them often enough in his service after all. A certain tension in many limbs, eyes darting quickly between each weapon trained on them, the way they turned themselves slightly to be in best position to leap into action; these weren't civilians. None more held this true than the man in front, thin and perhaps a little short; the young man had short stubble and emerald green eyes under a pair of spectacles, topped by messy black hair. His clothes were just as casual – jeans, some kind of band shirt he didn't recognise, a leather jacket – but his stance was firm, shoulders back, and the air of command about him that any military man could recognise.
"State your name, rank and intention," he ordered as he stared down the unfamiliar man, not letting his pistol drop from where it was trained on him.
"Ah, you must be Central Officer Bradford, I presume," the man replied calmly in an English accent, seemingly not bothered by the weapons aimed at him or his peers.
"State your name, rank and intention," Bradford repeated, not letting any surprise show at how the man knew his name.
"Sir Harry James Potter, late Captain of the Aurora Corps, here as representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland," he rattled off, "here to brief the… 'Commander' on a slight change to the situation and declassify a few things. That declassification protocol extends to one Central Office Bradford, and Doctors and , and anyone further at the Commander's discretion."
"Under whose authority?" Bradford queried.
"Elisabeth Regina's," Harry, as he was now identified as, stated, before turning to those behind him. "Find a break room and wait for orders, I'll go sort things out." As he turned his gaze back on the base's second in command, he let out a slight grin. "Take me to your leader."
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"Ah, Doctor Shen, please sit down, we were just waiting for you," the Commander gestured at the last remaining chair from his place behind his desk. The fact he'd only been awake for a time best measured in minutes wasn't at all obvious from the cool, collected appearance of the man who had waited for the members of their group to show up before the strange intruder spoke.
"Sorry, these old bones don't move as fast anymore. So this is the head of the group that waltzed past all our security," the man eyed Potter up and down from where he was sipping a cup of tea. "You mind telling us how?"
"That would be why you're all here," he took another sip before setting the cup down. "This room is secure, I'm assuming?"
"You're standing in the most secure location on planet Earth. I should know, I designed it," Shen answered, the last part more a grumble.
"Alright then. Well, to start off with the legal requirements; the land of Britain is currently under threat and a state of war has been declared in response to something that could lead to the end of our nation. As such, circumstances have dictated the terms of Article Eight of the Statute of Secrecy be activated; in time of war and in dire need, the Statute of Secrecy may be lifted where necessary," Harry sounded quite bored reciting the terms from memory. "An alien invasion of Earth makes it pretty damn necessary, and so I am authorised to tell you the truth. Magic is real."
Four sets of eyes blinked at him, wondering if they'd misheard before the man slipped a stick of wood from his sleeve into his hand, and flicked it at the ashtray on the Commander's desk. As the crystal ornament began to float into the air, several brains stopped working briefly. Naturally, the Commander recovered first.
"Hm, okay then," the man stated, staring at his floating ashtray.
"What," Shen mumbled as his precious laws of Physics were torn apart, set alight and danced upon before his eyes.
"Remarkable," was Vahlen's contribution as her eyes were set alight, "I had theorised as to the psionic ability of the aliens, but to see it occur naturally in humans… I presume this is natural, yes?"
"Yeah, I was born a wizard," Harry replied, flicking what could now only be called a wand to set the ashtray back down. The German woman's nose wrinkled at the term 'wizard' as if she found such a fanciful thing insulting, but before she could voice a complaint, Bradford interjected.
"What exactly is it you can do?" the man asked curiously.
"Almost anything you can imagine and quite a lot more," Harry answered, "there are rules and limits of course, which I am reliably informed obey the laws of physics in a roundabout way, or so I'm told." He directed the latter point at the engineer who was still staring at the stationary piece of crystal.
"And the people you brought with you…" Bradford inquired further.
"All magical, and all twelve have combat experience, albeit a slightly different form of combat," Harry replied with a note of pride in his voice. "All hereby placed under your orders, Commander." The man behind the desk stayed silent for a few moments, before a slight smile graced his face.
"Well, let's get to work then," he eventually stated.
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"How're the combat trials running?" the Commander inquired as he walked up beside Bradford, who was staring through a sheet of glass at the people moving beyond.
"Well, but…unorthodox, sir," he answered without turning around.
"Is he using a sword?" the Commander said incredulously as he watched one of the figures decapitate a training dummy with a silver blade.
"That's Longbottom. He managed to persuade me to let him test out with that thing; he knows how to use it, and the blade is poisoned with a venom that kills in less than a minute. He also grabbed a shotgun, and he's been using the combination to his advantage."
"You think we should let him into the field like that?"
"It's unconventional, but… they all are really. Potter and Lovegood are the best damn shots I've ever seen; he can fire two pistols at two separate targets and hit both, and she hasn't missed once with her sniper rifle while barely looking at her target." At that moment, wide blue eyes turned to look at the pair from a blonde-framed face, a smile dancing upon her lips before she turned back to resume firing, hitting another bullseye.
"As ludicrous as it sounds to say this, but is it possible she could have some precognitive ability?"
"I'll have to ask Doctor Vahlen once she's done interrogating Granger on magical theory."
"I don't envy Granger right now."
"Actually, when I last checked she was comfortably lecturing while drawing diagrams. She looked in her element."
"Better strike her off the combat list then; Vahlen won't want to let go of such an asset."
"Yes, Commander."
A/N: I absolutely loved XCOM: Enemy Unknown, I've now played it through at least a half-dozen times and it remains one of my favourite games of all time. Needless to say, I was hyped for the sequel, and extremely frustrated that it came out right in the revision period. So I waited until these holidays, and finally bought it and obsessively played for several days. It definitely lives up to the original, though I am disappointed by the DLC a bit. Still, that's where this came from.
On another note, "Things XCOM Operatives are not allowed to do" is an extremely funny google doc compilation if you look it up of golden pieces of comedy from the Spacebattles forums, and with a lot of backstories as well. Really worth a read, and I would link it if this site allowed such things. (All hail to the Great Commandy One).
Prompt Two: Airships (Steampunk)
Chaos reigned aboard the good ship 'Caspartine' as smoke poured from the starboard side, men and women in stained clothing rushed hither and yon with supplies or tools desperately trying to fix things, and the ship slowly descended from its position in the dusty skies between high cliff faces, the balloon above the mixed wooden and metal deck deflating little by little.
Almost none of this was noticed by the ginger man waving a socket wrench as he engaged in a shouting match with a brunette wearing an intricate brass device over her right eye. They did notice when their own shouting match was drowned out by the Captain's roar as he emerged onto the deck.
"All Hands! Shut down the engines and haul to starboard, make for the ledge in the cliff to the North East. Get me some more lift on those balloons or we're going down!" the black haired young man bellowed.
"Hard Starboard, aye sir!" came the call from the blond man at the aft of the ship, making a quick turn on the helm.
"Hermione, Ron," the growl made the pair that had been moving off to do their assigned jobs still, and gulp simultaneously. "I'll want an explanation when we land."
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"It was his fault," Hermione stated firmly, pointing at Ron, while at the same time he stated "It was her fault," while motioning at her.
"No it wasn't," they both replied.
The Captain, for his part, massaged his brow with an extreme effort of patience.
"Both of you, shut up," he commanded, and two mouths shut immediately. "My ship is sitting, grounded, and with the main engine blown, so I would like an explanation. Ron, you first."
"There was a spike in oil pressure," the young man started, "so I went to the engine room and found her messing with the machinery."
"I was not messing with it, I was-," the woman was silenced by the withering glare she was quickly given. After a few moments, the Weasley continued.
"So I tried to stop what she was doing, I pulled her out from under the gearbox and then she tried to attack me, and then the engine…exploded a bit."
"Define 'a bit' for me."
"Regulators are shot, several gaskets blew, and we've lost integrity in the boiler," Ron stated while scratching the back of his head. "Pumps to the balloon I can fix in an hour or so, the engines, not so much."
"What do you need?"
"Parts we don't have on-board, and a lot more time."
"Right," the Captain replied, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Hermione, if you will."
"Well, you know we had to clean out the steam pipe of scale problems last time we were in port?" the bushy-haired woman began, "well, I came up with a silver filter that would react with the particulates and stop them from clogging up the pipe. I was trying to fit it when Ronald pulled me out."
"Hermione," the Captain began slowly, "what was it I told you outside Riga last year?"
"Erm," she gulped audibly. "Never to experiment on the ship while in flight, and to ask you before I make any changes," she admitted quietly. "And I know I lapsed, but it was just a small modification to make things a bit easier for everyone."
"A small thing which resulted in us being grounded," the Captain countered.
"I'm sorry, Harr-Captain," she quickly corrected herself. The man stayed silent for several moments before seemingly making up his mind.
"When we reach Hogton, you'll be pulling double shifts to get that engine fixed, and will receive no shore leave. Am I clear?"
The woman nodded her head sadly, accepting the punishment with dignity. Inside of course, she was mourning not being able to visit the large city-like dock of many levels spiralling upwards around a Cliffside. Not be able to visit the Hogsmeade shopping district, or the Hogwarts school library she so loved.
"Understood, Captain."
"Good," he then turned to the rest of the crew who were gathered around, "Ron, I want that balloon pump fixed as soon as humanly possible, the rest of you; we have no iron sails, so we'll have to finish the journey to Hogton with regular ones. Deploy the side sails and pray for a favourable wind." As the crew dissipated to go to their tasks, the Captain lightly grabbed the scientist's arm to stop her leaving. "I'm sorry to keep you from Hogwarts, Hermione, but you know I can't go easy on you just because of who you are. Especially because, in-fact."
"I know, and I understand, Harry," she replied with a smile, and a small peck on his lips, "it was my mistake and my fault, I'll take it as well-deserved."
"If you're good, though, I just might see if I can grab a few books for you."
"Oh, and what constitutes being 'good,' Captain," she almost purred the title with a sultry smile.
"You'll just have to impress me," Harry replied with a grin.
"Now that sounds like a challenge," Hermione said softly as she walked away, sashaying her hips a bit as she did. Harry allowed himself to stare for a moment before the Captain was once more reasserted.
"Helmsman!" he yelled, turning towards the back of the ship, "you want to tell me what that bump was as we landed?"
A/N: Stardust is a film I'm fond of, and I don't think it gets enough recognition. It certainly has one of the best soundtracks I've heard, and is a nice story (though I've heard the original version has slightly less of a happy, Fairy-tale ending.) Anyway, was watching the film, and the airship reminded me of when I briefly played Guns of Icarus a long while back. Idea spiralled from there.
WARNING: This next one holds spoilers for Borderlands 2.
Prompt Three: Tales From…
The Borderlands were not a kind place; everybody knew this. Every day you lived there, you had a pretty high chance of dying there too. Whether it was one of many bandit clans after territory, some outta-town mega-corporation trying to open a vault full of deadly Kaiju, one of the many native nasties including (but not limited to) Skags, Varkids, and the occasional semi-invincible Thresher, or maybe it was just another psycho wanting to eat your left testicle or wear your face.
No, the Borderlands, and the planet Pandora as a whole really, were not a kind place.
And yet, there were those who continued to live there. Most because it was where they had always lived, many because they had no way to leave, and a few by choice.
Harry Potter was none of these.
He hadn't always lived in his sandy home to the North of Lynchwood, if he chose to he could leave the Dust, and even Pandora, behind, nor did he actively choose to come to this chaotic mess of a world.
No, the reason he stayed, was because he had nowhere else to go.
As far as he could tell, he was stuck here in this strange Universe, and he supposed he may as well make the most of it. At least here he wasn't hailed as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' 'The-Man-Who-Won,' and other such stupid, hyphenated monikers. And while it wasn't exactly peaceful, per se, there was an appeal to mostly being left alone to his own business. Which was mainly enchanting this and that for selling, as well as potions; the strange materials of this planet were surprisingly potent, and very effective for a good potion. He was still trying to figure out this Eridium stuff, though.
Of course, his skills were noticed from time to time. First natives, then Atlas, and then Hyperion had come after his skills. And all had received the same answer; a firm 'no' and a bullet to the head if they didn't listen. So, when he saw a war-weathered, dark-skinned man coming up the path to his home on the cliff, he had a procedure to fall back upon.
"Alright, that's far enough," he called out as he stepped through his front door, levelling a Jakobs pistol at the man. "Give me a reason for being here or bugger off."
"My name's Roland," he began slowly, eyeing the pistol and twitching his hand so as not to grab the assault rifle on his back.
"I know who you are," Harry replied with a roll of his vivid green eyes, "you sent out enough of those echo recorders. And I can make a decent guess why you're here. Wanting me to join up with the Crimson Raiders?"
"Partly, yeah," the big man admitted.
"Well, you can forget about it," he stated firmly. "Not happening. Now, who told you where I live?"
"Friend o'mine called Tina. Said you're a decent guy with some special talents," he visibly eyed Harry up and down.
"Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have told her where I lived," Harry muttered, letting the gun waver a bit.
"She's a good kid," Roland defended her, shifting his stance to be a little more relaxed, "insane, sure, but still a good kid."
"Insanity isn't exactly rare here," the wizard retorted.
"Yeah, but good people are," the ex-soldier took a step forward, but stilled as the pistol was once more trained on him.
"Ah-ah, just because Tina likes you, doesn't mean I trust you. So you've delivered your invitation, now you can bugger off."
"Actually I haven't delivered my full invitation," Roland stated, "Sanctuary is a city filled with those few good people I mentioned. And they could sure as hell do with some of the miracles you put out. I'm not asking you to Join the Crimson Raiders, just to come back where it's safe and sell some of your wares. If money's all you care about, there's plenty of people there who'd be willing to buy."
"Money isn't everything to me, you know," Harry replied with a frown, "and don't try to pull the guilt-trip card on me, either. I'm not interested in moving to Sanctuary and painting a great big target on my back. Only reason I'm still alive is I keep to myself, and I intend to keep it that way."
"Last I heard, Hyperion had a bounty on your head as it is."
"Yeah, and it's a small one, and it's for alive not dead. No-one's that interested in the Witch-Doctor of the Dust, and I'm not changing that."
"Well, if you do change your mind, or maybe people do get interested, the invitation will always be open."
"Yeah, whatever, now scram!"
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"What part of 'Bugger Off' did you not get?" Harry asked as he once more levelled a gun at Sanctuary's soldier, not even a week after their first meeting.
"The part where I got business for you," Roland replied nonchalantly. "I heard you take commissions."
"Depends on the commission."
"Well, I got a list from various people in Sanctuary," he pulled out an echo device, "and the money to pay for it." The wizard sighed, and rubbed his face with his spare hand.
"Tell me these aren't things that will come back to bite me? I'm not doing any weapons, or anything else you might use against Hyperion."
"Nope, just your normal stuff," Roland stated with a slight smile.
"Leave the list and ten thou up front."
"And then bugger off?"
"Yeah something like that."
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The day eventually came when the Echo-comms that Roland had forced upon Harry to save on endless trips to the Dust started bleeping insistently with an emergency message.
"What is it Roland?" Harry asked as he turned it on, sitting down at the small table his kitchen offered.
"I got some new refugees today, all dying of something people call 'The Shivers,'" came the reply.
"You've got a town doctor, haven't you?"
"He's a surgeon, and not a qualified doctor. He said this was some form of neurological disease mixed with possible total organ failure." Harry stayed silent, not replying to the statement as he scratched at his short black beard in thought. "Harry, I need you to come in."
"Roland…"
"These guys are innocents, victims of Hyperion's mining efforts. They'll be dead soon without a miracle, and miracles are hard to come by on Pandora."
"Yeah, and people talk about miracles, and then word spreads."
"We can do this discretely, no-one will know you were here, and no-one will recognise you."
"Roland…" he said again, trying to come up with a decent reason not to go, but his conscience was nagging at him.
"I got ten people here who won't survive without your help; you know I wouldn't call if I didn't have any other choice."
"Fine," Harry stated after a long few moments of silence, shutting off the Echo-comms before Roland could reply. "Stupid saving people thing," he muttered as he went to gather his gear.
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It was another month before Roland brought something up outside the usual on one of his supply requests.
"Oh, and I was wondering if you'd be able to do something outside of the normal ballpark," he'd started.
"What," Harry replied cautiously, stalling in the writing down of the list of items he'd wanted –mainly potions.
"You've been studying that Eridium stuff, right?"
"Yeah," Harry said slowly.
"I got a friend who's a siren, and she's been…absorbing the stuff."
"Absorbing," Harry stated flatly, blinking at the word.
"Yeah. It's been messing with her abilities, making them stronger, but also more erratic, and, I think she's becoming addicted to it."
"How does she even – no, never mind, what is it you want me to do?"
"I was hoping you could take a look at her; see if it's having any adverse effects or causing problems."
"Roland, you know I don't like coming to Sanctuary."
"She isn't in Sanctuary, she's in Frostburn Canyon."
"Isn't that place filled with bandits under that Firehawk guy?"
"Yeah, that's her; she's been keeping the Bloodshots busy."
"Your friend is a bandit boss?"
"From what I've heard it's more like a cult leader, really."
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"Roland," Harry began as he called the man, "can you please tell this Tannis woman to stop messaging me? I am not going to let her 'study' me. It sounds like she wants to dissect me."
"Yeah, sorry about that. She can get a bit obsessive."
"Oh, and could you thank Hammerlock for the beer? It's been so difficult to find proper stout on this planet."
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"Hey Vault Hunters!" Harry killed the engine of his Bandit Technical as he rolled into Ellie's Garage, carefully not making any sudden moves around the group of twitchy characters. "Heard you were looking for one of these."
"Oh, hey Harry," Ellie said in her heavy accent while waving him over as he jumped out of the large vehicle.
"Ellie, if the next thing out of your mouth is going to be a pick—up line or euphemism, don't bother. Even if it's one of your mother's. I'm still not interested," he stated lightly as he approached the group.
"Pfft, one'a these days I'll get ya. Ya can't resist charm like this forever," the mechanic replied in what she probably thought was a coquettish manner.
"Somehow, I think I'll manage. Vault Hunters, she's all yours," he gestured a hand behind him at the vehicle. "Just don't tell anyone I helped you rescue Roland, I need to keep a low profile."
"What about Roland?" the man at the front hefting an assault rifle inquired.
"Especially him."
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He was at Tina's when the news broke. She hadn't reacted well. After persuading her to let him give her a sleeping potion, determination had filled Harry's eyes and he set out with purpose.
A son of a bitch was going to die today.
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It took the Vault Hunters some time to reach the Vault of the Warrior; having to find out where it was, and fighting bandits and Hyperion goons to get there. When they finally did, they were in time to see the bearded man they had briefly met in the Dust walking towards them away from the fallen body of the Warrior, and a heavily bleeding Jack.
The man – Harry, a few recalled – didn't so much as flinch or look back as the CEO of Hyperion was consumed in an explosion from what looked like a grenade. He just kept on walking past them.
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"So, you ever played Bunkers and Badasses before?" Lilith asked Harry as he set down a box in what was now the house belonging to him and Tina in Sanctuary – she had managed to persuade him with some puppy dog eyes, and the fact he was no-longer scared of hiding himself.
"No," he admitted while dusting off his hands, "but it sounds like fun, and Tina's pretty excited for it."
"Tina's always excited for everything."
"Not so much after… well, you know," he was reluctant to bring up Roland's death with his girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now.
"It hit us all hard; some more than others," Lilith said softly. "Still, I guess he was right about you in the end."
"What?" Harry asked, turning around to face the Siren in confusion.
"He was sure he'd make a hero of you one day," she responded with a slight, sad smile tugging at her lips. "He always said you were a good man who'd just lost his motivation. He was trying to draw you out of your shell, little by little."
"Of course he was; I did wonder sometimes; the requests slowly getting bigger and with more guilt-tripping," Harry admitted, "I just wish it hadn't taken…" He trailed off, staring into the box's contents, and seeing a framed photo of the man hefting a laughing Tina on his shoulder.
"I'll see you later," Lilith said after a moment, "don't come too late, or we'll drink all of Hammerlock's beer without you."
"I'll see you there," he distractedly replied, rubbing his forehead with its old, faded scar as his mind wandered. He'd stayed out of things too much, been too far away. How much could he have done if he hadn't?
In his mind's eye, he was dragged back to long ago in his childhood when he had caught part of a film Dudley had been watching about a Superhero. 'With great power comes great responsibility.'
He hadn't been responsible at all.
"Thanks, Roland," he murmured as he closed up the box with the photo in. "For reminding me who I am."
Straightening up, he turned to make for the door while a smile made its way across his face. He had a game to play, and beer to drink in memory of a friend.
A/N: I'm fond of the Borderlands games, and I recently replayed Tales from the Borderlands and started a new Borderlands 2 campaign as Gaige, who I'm actually really enjoying playing (Anarchy in the UK!) This came as I've seen many reluctant Harrys forced into the wrong Universe (often Marvel) but I don't think anyone's done Borderlands before.
Also, badasses don't look at explosions.
Prompt Four : Let's Play a Game (Werewolf/Town of Salem)
"It's Hermione, it's got to be Hermione," Ron insisted as he pointed at the bushy haired woman.
"It's obviously not her; she's the witch," his sister replied with a roll of her eyes. "I'm more inclined to think it's you."
"It's not me, I'm the Healer," Ron protested, "Susan investigated me, remember?"
"Hang on; I'm the Healer!" Fred stated, or maybe it as George.
"I thought I was Healer," the other twin replied.
"No, you're the Jester, I'm the Healer."
"I thought I was the Healer and you were the Jester."
"Can I bring up two things?" Luna inquired. "Firstly, can we take notice that Hermione is still muted and unable to defend herself, which is a tad suspect." The bushy haired woman nodded fervently and thankfully in the blonde's direction. "Secondly, I believe Susan's will said that Ronald was the Healer or the SK."
"Yes, and I'm the Healer," Ron replied.
"We only have your word of that," Ginny stated. "All in favour of lynching Ron?"
"What, oh come on!" the redhead protested to the show of raised hands – including an irately silent Hermione.
"You have voted in favour of killing Ron," a voice declared from behind them. "You have chosen…poorly. Ron; reveal your role."
"Healer, like I said," the angry boy stated as he flipped over his card for all to see.
"Ron, move to the graveyard," Harry continued in his ominous voice, pointing over to the silenced bubble in the Room of Requirement where the dead now sat. "Now, the town shall sleep."
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"I still say that was the most bullshit win ever," George harrumphed, "how did you know which of us was Jester and which was Godfather?"
"The way you reacted when I called your roles," Hermione replied smugly as she and Luna split the box of Honeyduke's between them. "And I knew Luna was the Serial Killer, of course, so I helped her out."
"This is a stupid game," Ron grumbled as he watched the chocolate that he would never eat changing hands.
"It was just a bit of fun," Harry said as he finally sat down, "it's Halloween, and I thought we could use some downtime, and bringing the DA back together for a game sounded like a good idea."
"I thought it was fun," Neville spoke up.
"Yeah, muggles have some good ideas for things to do without magic," Padma admitted.
"There's way more where that came from," Colin said with a sly smile, "we could always try Cards Against Humanity."
"I think that would be a bad idea Colin," Hermione replied, "Wizarding sensibilities and all."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked confusedly, "what's Cards Against Humanity?"
"I'll tell you when you're older."
A/N: And I think it's obvious that this came from me playing some Town of Salem. Fun game, though I swear I always get the absolute dumbest townies when I don't want them, and then when I do, they can actually work out that I'm a bad guy.
Anyway, there's some prompts and generally some writing to get me going after a three month stop. It only took me a few weeks…
With this should be coming a slight rearrangement of my Plot Bunny Pastures stuff. And, since I'm writing this AN on the 30th of July, it looks like I'm not going to be keeping my promise, annoyingly. I'm sorry, I've just been snowed under far more than I expected by things like finding accommodation, sorting out things I'll be bringing with me and UCAS stuff as well as other real life issues that have contributed to this being less of a holiday. So yeah, I'm sorry; CMM chapter will still be coming at some point, I just can't say when.