Fleeting Moments

Piqued Interest - Hogwarts - 9th September 1996

It was seventeen minutes past ten in the morning as Daphne Greengrass looked over the lesson plan that Professor McGonnagal had given out. She was only half reading as Tracey chewed on the tip of her quill, still only two sentences in on her essay on the theory behind changing pebbles to precious stones and their expiry times. Daphne had already managed two paragraphs and reviewed the lesson plan to ensure she understood the task correctly.

"All I am saying Harry is just watch out whatever you are drinking or eating this year" she overhead Hermione Granger half whisper on the desk one in front and to the right. Her interest gained she listened in.

"Are you saying I'm getting fat Hermione?" Potter replied, turning in his chair to face the brunette witch. Whatever Granger was referencing, it definitely wasn't that the chosen one .. Or so the prophet had taken to calling him had put on weight, at least not in the fat sort of way. No Harry Potter had .. Filled out nicely.

She startled. Since when did she pay attention to people like that?

"I was not- Harry! Be serious!"

"But I'm Harry-"

"Finish that sentence and I am going to move seats!" Granger hissed, causing Potter to raise his hands up in defence with a smirk on his lips. "Some girls are going to be looking to get to you now and well might try and slip you a love potion"

Granger wasn't wrong, Harry Potter was the number one catch for fame hungry girls and families. She wouldn't put it past a few witches to slip a love potion into any food or drink. Her mother had both her and Astoria take a weekly potion that nullified the effects of such potions just in case any wizards sought to take advantage themselves.

"I'll be careful, I promise, plus I've got you watching over me" he replied to the witch beside him and gave a gentle nudge. Granger smiled fondly and turned back to her work. Daphne and the rest of the school often wondered why the pair hadn't become an item, they were close after all. But something in the way they acted implied a different kind of love, much like the one between herself and her own sister.

She shook herself, she had been staring at the pair.

She flicked back to her work briefly before her eyes were drawn back. Potter was staring intently at his work, his emerald eyes which were easily Potter's most unique feature after his scar seemed to shine with enthusiasm. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow steadying itself on the desk as her eyes narrowed a little. Why was she still looking at Potter? Because he had filled out a little? She'd not really paid attention to any of the boys, she was a pureblood and the eldest daughter of an influential household, she knew they either wanted her money or her body.

Maybe because Potter never tried asking her out? No that couldn't be it.

"Daphne?"

She jumped again. Bloody hell Daphne!

If Tracey had caught her staring at Potter she didn't let on as she asked her opinion on the opening statement of her work. Leaning over her friend's work she glanced back at Potter. Whatever caught her interest was still a mystery, but it was there nonetheless.

Hippogriff's Preening - Looe, Cornwall - 12th July 2003

Buckbeak was frustrated, he had been preening his magnificent feathers but one solidarity unkempt feather remained out of reach on the back of his neck. The hippogriff bristled twice in frustration as he tried to shake the elusive fiend that was not welcome on his pristine form.

Still nothing.

The noble creature placed his feathered head between his clawed forefeet, letting out a sulking huff. His amber eyes were drawn to the herd of two legs that frollicked in the meadow just before his copse of woodland. Three two legs and one four leg, the black haired two leg he knew most of all, for nearly a decade the two legs had earned the hippogriff's undying loyalty. The tall yellow hair two legs he didn't care for, yet was the former two legs mate. Buckbeak reserved his famous narrowing eyes for her, the two legs always returned it.

Then his eyes latched onto the little two legs between them, squealing with noises that the hippogriff didn't understand although he could tell she was excited. He was fond of the little two legs, yet the tall yellow hair two legs wouldn't let the little one ride him.

Buckbeak glared at the tall one once again with narrowed eyes from his spot in the trees.

Running around the herd of two legs was a black and white four legs. The hippogriff remembered when his favourite two legs brought it home, Buckbeak had been sure to show the little four legs who was king of the meadow. He was, however, also fond of the four legs.

His head snapped up. Maybe the two legs could help his feather problem. He jumped up in excitement and began to trout out of the trees.

But then stopped.

He gave a low squark and shook his head. No he wouldn't lower himself to needing the two legs help for a sole offending feather. He lowered his head and shook again. Nothing. He flopped ungracefully to the woodland floor and rubbed his beak into the dirt in self pity.

A sound of soft pads on leaves reached his ears, causing the Hippogriff to raise his head. The little black and white four legs trotted into his little clearing and studied him with its amber eyes. Both hippogriff and dog tilted their heads to each other, before the four legs moved closer and sat next to him. Buckbeak watched with interest, the dog gently placed its paw against his flank and waited.

He nodded his consent to approach.

The little four legs gently placed both its forelegs on his side and reached up and out of his view. Before returning back with the offending feather.

"Ellie?" called the dark haired two legs from the distance.

A moment of silence passed between them, before the little four legs placed the feather at his claws and trotted off. With Buckbeak staring after the little creature. Once the four legs vanished out of sight, returning to her two legs master. The hippogriff studied the feather that caused him much frustration.

Before he playfully lunged at the item and flung it dramatically out of sight. Today was a good day.

Undoing - Hogwarts Great Hall - 2nd May 1998

For the first time in his life, Tom Riddle felt lost. Even as he poured unholy curses and hexes at Potter, keeping the boy at bay he could hear the triumphant cries of the students and aurors as his followers were either captured or slaughtered under a hail of spellfire. He watched as his most faithful follower, Bellatrix was blown apart by a furious red headed witch to which he howled in rage. Nott and Parkingson were cut down almost instantly when the students rose up at Harry's reappearance, his forces were being cut apart and he was now a mere mortal.

The distraction of Bellatrix's death caused his focus to slip for a moment, and in an instant Potter assailed him with a flurry of spells even he was unfamiliar with, curses and hexs that oozes corruption and he himself would be impressed by if it wasn't him under the assault.

Riddle may have been powerful, his magic like a sledgehammer but Potter was a fast as a fencer with a rapier, no sooner had he unleashed a spell did another come, like a barrage of death and destruction the boy before him almost projected himself into each curse, racing towards him like a tidal wave. He deflected a neon orange bolt curse that slammed into the east wall, ripping it apart, though he did not leave him unscathed. His wrist and forearm burned in protest, but he had no time to nurse his wound as most flashes spells assaulted him.

It was in those moments, Tom Riddle started to feel fear. Not since a child had he truly felt it, no longer did he have a horcrux to fall back on. All it would take is one true strike from Harry Potter and he was no more. Rage, despair, fear and desperation all coursed through him, he was a man now, his name no longer feared, his presence being smothered by a teenage boy. Yet as he sought the eyes of Potter, those emerald orbs reflected nothing but hatred and loathing, yet a mere hour ago he had offered him mercy, offered him a chance to feel some remorse.

That boy was gone, and in his place was a different creature altogether, however behind him was something all the more terrifying. Ghosts and haunting faces, some he did not recall, others he did, the Potters, Snape, The old man from the graveyard and countless others stood behind Potter as wave after wave of spells crashed against his weakening defence.

All the souls he took, we're here to witness to his end.

Perhaps in that moment he did feel a small inkling of remorse, when faced with all those he had slain? Or could it have been sheer terror that was the one thing he sought to avoid. Death. Was going to claim him, not as an old friend, but as a bitter enemy.

And then he felt it. The Elder Wand, the weapon he sought for so long, shattered and splintered in his palm as Potter's blasting hex tore through his shields. He barely managed to process it, as the familiar sickly green light obscured his vision, one he was oh so familiar with, however this time.

It was turned on him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Tom cried out, and for the first time since his rise to his reputation as the dark lord he exposed his fear, as his vision was filled with a green light.

His eyes grew wider still and then .. Nothing.

Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, the half-blood radical who unleashed terror amongst the British Isles twice, was no more, bested and undone by none other than the boy he had set out to destroy. His body crumbled to the ground. He was, no more.

Operation Biscuit - Looe, Cornwall - 3rd May 2007

"Custard cream to ginger nut, I am situated by the rose beds, I've a good view of the womenfolk by the BBQ. What is your location, over"

"Why am I a ginger biscuit?" Ron protested back over the walkie talkie they had all bought for Jessica's fifth birthday party. George huffed and pressed the button to talk again.

"Because ginger nuts resemble your hair so well Wealsey, and you need to say over when you are finished speaking, over"

"Yeah ginger nut, at least you've not got the code name digestive, not even the chocolate kind …. Over" Harry's voice came over the waves.

"Mate I'm a bourbon cream, is it cause I'm brown George … I mean custard creme .. Over" Blaise sounded.

"Look, digestive is a solid and dependable option, perfect for any situation. And bourbons are a for a fancy afternoon tea. Just like you Zabini! Over"

"Nice save, over" Blaise chuckled.

"So ginger nut, what is your position. I have no eyes on targets. Over"

They all heard Ron sigh over the radio.

"Ginger biscuit is reporting from the .. From the … Wait did you send me to the ginger shrubs on purpose Waston! … Over"

"Its custard cream! Over"

Sniggering could be heard from both Blaise and Harry.

"Fine, ginger nut has no eyes on targets! Over"

"Digestive reporting from the tree line, no signs of targets. Although I think Buckbeak is stalking me. Over"

"Ah the next headline, Potter slaughtered by hungry hippogriff, think Harry Potter and the hungry hippogriff might lose stock? Over" Blaise chuckled.

"Custard cream to Bourbon, do you have eyes on the targets? Over"

"No, you don't think we've lost them have you? Over"

"Ginger nut to custard cream, I now have a rash from laying in the plants, Over"

"Digestive to ginger nut, don't crush the ginger! We need them for the winter biscuits! Over"

"Oh I am terrible sorry -"

Silence.

"Custard cream to ginger nut? Come in, over?"

"Ginger nut is compromised, I repeat Ginger nut is … urgh no don't lick my ear … HELP!"

Over Ron's cries they could hear a young girls giggling and a yapping bark and heavy sniffing.

"Ginger nut has fallen my fellows, a moment of silence if if you will gentlemen! Over"

…

So the short scenes will follow this pattern, it will be updated randomly and will have about four stories in each "chapter". If you have any requests. Let me know.