Ravenpuff #1: Ernie Macmillan

This is the first in a possibly-short collection of possibly short-stories featuring Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff characters. They'll be somewhat sequential (or at least taking place in the same universe), so I might reference other stories in the series every once in a while.

I call them the Ravenpuff Chronicles, since Huffleclaw just sounds weird. Lol.

I've always liked Ernie Macmillan. Sure, he's written to sound like a pompous jerk, but he has the same appeal as Percy Weasley, imho. I know some of you don't think Percy Weasley had any appeal, but I did like him. He was special in his own pinheaded sort of way. :) (And, naturally, so is Ernie.)


Ernie Macmillan was a wreck. Not in the sense that he was a ruin, because he obviously was a person and not a disaster zone, but in the sense that he was mentally broken down. (Which, in Ernie's case, wasn't really so far from a disaster zone, anyway.) He paced around his room, running his hands through his hair. Every few seconds, he would glance nervously at the crisp, unopened envelope lying unopened on his bed, yellow parchment contrasting with his red plaid comforter. Ernie bit his lip, staring intently at the wax seal that plainly marked the letter as Hogwarts post. He could do this. He would do this. (Not to mention, his parents would eventually force him to, anyway.)

One, two, three... He counted his steps, counted his breaths as he crossed the room. He could feel his steps grow slower as his breaths grew faster. Any quicker and Ernie might have started hyperventilating, but as soon as his fingers touched the parchment, he forgot, the whole of his psyche completely focused on the letter. Ernie ripped the paper open fiercely, fearing he would change his mind if he waited any longer.

Ernie tossed aside his book list (as well as several other assorted papers that he wasn't sure he knew the purpose of, but didn't feel the need to look at, at least not at the moment.) The only thing he cared about at this moment were the results of his OWL exam.

Dear Mr. Macmillan,

We are pleased to... the letter began, the same standard greeting every other he had received. you on successfully completing your fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Ernie already knew this. He had known he'd passed fifth year at the end of fifth year. Why were they telling him this again? Why, Hogwarts, why? Ernie couldn't force himself to suffer any longer than he had to. (Maybe "suffer" was an exaggeration, but it was still how he felt.) He skipped through the introduction, through the job descriptions, through all the rubbish (Which, naturally, happened to be pretty much everything) until he reached the only part of the letter that really mattered: his OWL scores.

Ernie dreaded to find out his scores and at the same time wanted to know them more than anything else he could imagine. (Except... well, you know. He is a teenage boy, after all.) He bit he lip so forcefully that, at any other time, he would've worried about biting it clear through. After a few moments, each second seeming to last an eon, Ernie breathed a sigh of relief. He sank down into his mattress, feeling almost as if he were to faint.

He hadn't done as well as he'd wished (He'd wished to earn straight "O's"), but he had done better than he'd expected (He'd expected to receive straight "D's"). However, Ernie had passed all his subjects and, more importantly, he had done best in the subjects he meant to pursue further. (He also noticed that he had got an "O" in Defense Against the Dark Arts.)

He didn't know how long he had been sitting motionless in his room, a goofy grin plastered on his face, when he heard his mother calling him from the floor below. "Ernie!" she bellowed from below. "Have you looked at your exam results yet? They're not going to change if you wait, you know!"

Before Ernie could respond, he heard his mother's heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. "I already checked, Mum," he replied when he saw her figure in his doorway.

"That's wonderful, dear!" Mrs. Macmillan gushed, beaming with satisfaction. "I'm so proud of you, honey!"

She waited for a few brief seconds before asking in a deadpan, "Well, how did you do?"


So, what did you think? I'd love you forever if you reviewed and I'm always open to constructive criticism. :)

If someone could be my beta reader, I'd love you until the day after forever. Somebody with Mad Grammar Skillz, plzkthx. And it'd be mucho appreciated if you were somebody who could Britpick my paper for Americanisms. If you want the job, please just e-mail me (My e-mail address is on my profile). Thanks!