Categories > Books > Harry Potter
The Novel Writing Contest
What happens when someone suggests doing National Novel Writing Month at Hogwarts? Mentions of a "freak" going through puberty, hence the rating.
?Blocked
Natasha Riddle = Hermione Granger. How? You'll find out soon.
The Writing Contest
Professor Riddle’s Point of View
Natasha had come bounding into our room at 6am that morning, she said
“Dad, there’s something I want to talk to you about”
“Natasha Jane Riddle it’s 6am!” I scolded
“You should have been up an hour ago Daddy” she replied.
“Don’t wake your mother” “OK… I need to ask you something”
“Let’s go to the living room”
She proceeded to show me information about an online writing contest that she’d printed out before leaving the muggles.
“Could you announce this at breakfast?” “Of course. Your mother and I will happily take part” I replied The tabby cat sitting next to me on the couch growled and narrowed her sleepy green eyes at me.
*At breakfast*
“Students and Faculty members may I have your attention for a few minutes please?”
There was a collective groan round the Great Hall.
My daughter Natasha asked me if I would allow the hosting of a competition here at Hogwarts…A writing competition. It’s called National Novel Writing Month. It starts on November 1st, which is a 3 weeks on Thursday. You have to write 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. We will have solo house and inter-house and whole school write-ins. Staff will participate in the whole school write-ins.
Sign up sheets will be in the common rooms tonight. I would ask as many of you to sign up as possible. Obviously due to the risks with muggle equipment in the magical world, this will have to be done by hand however, depending on how well the contest goes, we will take a trip into the muggle world at the end of November and go and visit the place where the contest began. It’s in California. For those of you who have trouble with writing, some of our senior students have agreed to scribe, you can also work in teams of two. The contest will be open to all years. Your heads of house will act as the Municipal Liaisons. We will have boards in The Great Hall for which house is in front. There will be prizes along the way.”
“What do you think Constance?” “I don’t know… I don’t know if I can write 50,000 words by hand” “You could use a DictaQuill or have a senior student scribe for you”
“Or maybe I can just give it a go myself. if my hand gets tired I can ask for help”
“I’d be willing to help you if you like Constance” “Thanks Kristy”
“I’d love to do it if I wasn’t so much of a buffoon and if my writing wasn’t so… ridiculous that no one can understand it.” Claudia sneered.
“Claud, if you want to do it, I will write the words and you can do the art” said Stacey
“I’d love to give it a try”
“Well then lets sign up together”
“Why don’t we all sign up?” Kristy suggested “we don’t need to work on the same novel… unless… I have a great idea! What about if we did a comic strip? About the BSC?” “Claudia can do the artwork, we can all come up with the ideas and Stacey and I will letter the bubbles.”
“That is a fabulous idea Kristy”
“This will be awesome” said Mal
Constance’s Point of View
Fred, George, Natasha, Harry, Draco and I were sitting in The Room of Requirement, discussing whether or not I should participate in the upcoming National Novel Writing Month thing that Natasha’s father, Professor Riddle was organising.
“Natasha, I have a confession to make. I never learned grammar properly.” I began. Before I could stop them, the words poured out of me like Niagara.
“When I first started school, I went to a catholic mainstream school. Given the difficulties I have, and the relative obscurity of Weaver’s Syndrome. The teachers did their best but after a while they wrote me off as useless at age 7.”
“That‘s awful”
“I know. They never gave me a proper chance to reach anything like my full potential. They tried to fob off my single parent mother with their ‘she doesn‘t understand this that or the other’ attitude but my mother was having none of it! My mother pulled me from that school, had me properly tested — which the school had had the nerve to say was a waste of resources. She sued the school, the catholic church, the education department and my father and home-schooled me from then until we moved to London. She taught me things that I would never have learnt in mainstream school, and she taught me things that the school hadn’t been prepared to try to teach my year because of me.”
“That‘s good, your mother did the right thing the school had a dreadful attitude towards you. Why did your mother sue your father?”
“I know she did. I asked her to — It’s a very long story. I’ll tell you later. It wasn‘t easy but somehow she figured out how to do it. After we moved, my mother got me a teacher, and I flexischooled.”
“Flexischooled?” Natasha asked puzzled
“Switching between the teacher and the local catholic school — a controversial compromise between the local authority and the parent and legal guardians of a special needs child with a disorder so rare 40 people on the planet have it. It‘s usualy seen as a last resort, though it wasn‘t in my case. My mother insisted that I should have a social worker to oversee my education — you could do that back then”
“Oh”
“Flexischooling went fine up until I was about to make my Confirmation. When the same issues occurred — about whether or not I would be able to understand the importance of the sacraments.” “But you‘d made your First Communion…” “Exactly. Confirmation requires more understanding however and in England the rules are slightly different to what they‘re like up here. Confirmation happens in Year 5 and not Year 7. My mother pulled me from school again and I worked full time with the teacher, The Pope intervened again but this time he wasn’t able to confirm me in person. He asked a priest from New York City who owed him a favour to do so privately.”
“Oh”
“When I was 10, I started puberty too early, so I had to go to hospital and they kept me in for two weeks. They told my mother it was because of the Weaver’s Syndrome. They didn‘t even acknowledge my presence in the room and I was the patient. I grew REALLY angry. I went ballistic at the stupid idiot doctor who was talking to my mother as though I was a slug or something that couldn‘t understand. The idiot doctor actually patted me on the head like some kind of overgrown hairless ugly dog and sent us on our way. I demanded that my mother file a complaint on my behalf. I couldn‘t do it myself because I was under 18.”
“That‘s terrible! You were the patient but you weren‘t even given the basic right of acknowledgement” “That‘s part of the reason I don‘t trust easily and hell mend anyone who breaks my trust. When we learned that I am a witch, we went to the WNHS. They tested me and poked and prodded but they STILL found nothing of consequence.”
“You said yourself that Weavers is so rare that 40 people on the planet have it.”
“Yeah, I know, but it‘s not exactly a valid reason for not being able to find anything”
“I suppose not” “Getting back to the subject of Grammar. I had Language Arts lessons, but they were more focused on writing stories than they were on the technicalities." “So you had creative writing lessons instead of language arts?” “Basically, yes I did. That’s why I don’t know a noun from my navel, a conjunction from a cold sore, an adjective from my arm, a verb from my vocal cords or a contraction from my slightly crooked nose! The problem with Weaver’s Syndrome is… I don’t belong with civilised people, I’m a freak they should isolate me.”
“You're not a freak or an inconvenience Constance, and they shouldn‘t treat you as though you are.”
“That is easily the most frustrating thing about Weaver Syndrome
It’s rare… It is not Autism. It is not Dyslexia. It is not Down Syndrome. It is not Cerebral Palsy. It is not Epilepsy. It is not Diabetes. It is not something normal.
I hate that word but Weaver Syndrome is so rare that it’s about as far from normal as it is possible to get.
That is how rare it is. It’s so rare that,
like I said earlier, 40 people on the planet have it. It’s so rare that they misdiagnosed me with Sotos Syndrome... which is what Claudia has.” “It‘s hardly an excuse for not treating you with any shred of dignity”
“Exactly. I have nothing against anyone who has any of the issues I listed but they’re not Weaver Syndrome! They’re a lot more common and a hell of a lot less misunderstood, and a lot more accepted." “That‘s true, it must be really frustrating” “It is incredibly frustrating being me. People who have those issues do not have as hard a struggle as someone who has a rare condition does. People who have those conditions can get help and don‘t get ridiculed or fobbed off like I do!”
“You shouldn‘t get fobbed off or ridiculed”
“You‘re right but I’ve heard people say I am a waste of resources. Someone who has a rare disorder that even the so-called experts don’t comprehend it. I’m fobbed off with excuses or told what I have is so rare that there is no solution and no one has the time or the money to find a solution all the time. I don’t know what’s more frustrating, having Weaver’s or the attitude of people who paid to help someone like me. I get told all the time I do not have a future.”
“You DO have a future”
“Maybe”
3 weeks later
November 1st dawned bright and cold and clear. After lessons ended for the day, the students participating in NaNoWriMo went to The Great Hall for the first official Write-In.
The Heads of Houses had organised Prep write-ins in their own houses but this was the first time the Write-In had been in The Great Hall.
The Great Hall looked somewhat different to how it normally looked. Instead of the 4 house tables and the staff table, there were smaller tables, they were round but they had individual writing stations that were slanted so that writing was easier.
“This is great! It makes writing so much easier!”
“You’re right, it does.”
The House Elves brought snacks for the participants to eat.
Professor Snape’s Point of View
“Constance never forgot the time that she started homeschooling… She had started primary school and done OK in Primary one but by the time she started Primary two, she had had the trauma of her father’s actions, of leaving with her mother and going to a new town, a new school, new teachers who didn’t understand her, new kids who would or would not accept her to deal with. Her grades were below average apparently yet she did the very best she could. She worked as hard as she could but by the beginning of Primary Three it was clear that mainstream catholic school just wasn’t working. The School had not cooperated on putting support in for her. Her mother fought with the school and ended up pulling her out and electing to homeschool her instead. The Catholic Education System had a lot to learn about educating kids with disabilities, that’s for sure”
The beginning of Constance’s novel was coming along nicely. I had been scribing for her, she had written thirteen pages on her own but her bad wrist began to cramp after that so I stepped in. On her way back to the Slytherin common room, someone tripped her from behind, she was sent sprawling headfirst along the corridor and she landed at the bottom of the stairs. Her manuscript was pulled from her hands and destroyed. She was beaten, kicked and viciously stamped upon.
I was just out of the shower when the call came through the fireplace.
“Severus… Severus come quickly!”
“Hold on Poppy, I’ll be right there… Accio robes”
I cast a drying charm on myself and got dressed.
“Constance is in the infirmary, she’s been attacked” “WHAT?” “Her novel was stolen out of her hand. The assailants jumped on her, stamped on her hands and kicked her. Then they SHREDDED her manuscript right in front of her. If Minerva hadn’t found them and stopped it Constance would probably be in much worse shape than she is now.”
“Where is Minerva, and where are the assailants?”
“Minerva’s office.” “All right, I’ll come and see Miss McMahon first then I’ll see Minerva.”
I stepped through the fireplace. Constance was sitting up in bed looking gloomy and furious.
“Miss McMahon, what happened?” “Someone tripped me, they beat me up, kicked me, stamped on me and stole my novel! Thank Merlin Professor McGonagall was making her rounds”
“Lucky you made copies then isn’t it?” said Professor Snape.
“Yes it is Professor. Thank you for teaching me the Gemino spell.”
“My pleasure”
“I’m going to teach my friends the same spell tomorrow.” “Good idea. I’m going to see Professor McGonagall.”
“Give her a hug and say thank you from me will you sir?”
“Of course I will”
“It’s the best I can do till I can get to Hogsmeade”
“Gluten Free Ginger Newts are her favourite biscuit”
“Dobby?” “Yes Miss Constance you called Dobby?” “Could you make some Gluten Free Ginger Newts and send them directly to Professor McGonagall’s office for me with a note saying thank you for rescuing me?” “Of course Miss Constance Dobby bes doing that right away” “Thanks Dobby…”
Minerva’s Point of View
“Three students… THREE STUDENTS FROM MY OWN HOUSE, OUT OF BED, OUT OF BOUNDS, ATTACKING STUDENTS WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING TO THEM! ATTACKING STUDENTS THEY HAVE BEEN WARNED TO KEEP AWAY FROM! THIS ENDS HERE…
CRACKLE
“Professor Riddle?” “Yes? Minerva what has your tail in a knot?”
“bullying… AGAIN”
“Oh? Send the culprits through. Natasha is here and she told me everything that happened”
“Good”
“She also demanded that I let her expel them”
I chuckled.
I ended the call and turned to go back to my desk when there was a sudden faint pop.
“Dobby? What are you doing here?” “Dobby bes delivering a gift from Miss Constance to say thank you for rescuing her”
“What are they?” “Gluten free Ginger Newts” “How did she know?” “Professor Batty Potions Master told her” I threw my head back and ROARED with laughter at Dobby’s nickname for Severus.
The writing contest continued for the duration of the month. At the end of the month, prizes were awarded…
“Would you like to do this again?” “I think we should make it a regular thing. There’s another event in April and one in July as well.” “We could go to a caravan site and do it there with your friends” “That would be wonderful” "We can invite Perseus, Romulus, Sirius, Remus and Sev..." "That might work"
The Writing Contest
Professor Riddle’s Point of View
Natasha had come bounding into our room at 6am that morning, she said
“Dad, there’s something I want to talk to you about”
“Natasha Jane Riddle it’s 6am!” I scolded
“You should have been up an hour ago Daddy” she replied.
“Don’t wake your mother” “OK… I need to ask you something”
“Let’s go to the living room”
She proceeded to show me information about an online writing contest that she’d printed out before leaving the muggles.
“Could you announce this at breakfast?” “Of course. Your mother and I will happily take part” I replied The tabby cat sitting next to me on the couch growled and narrowed her sleepy green eyes at me.
*At breakfast*
“Students and Faculty members may I have your attention for a few minutes please?”
There was a collective groan round the Great Hall.
My daughter Natasha asked me if I would allow the hosting of a competition here at Hogwarts…A writing competition. It’s called National Novel Writing Month. It starts on November 1st, which is a 3 weeks on Thursday. You have to write 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. We will have solo house and inter-house and whole school write-ins. Staff will participate in the whole school write-ins.
Sign up sheets will be in the common rooms tonight. I would ask as many of you to sign up as possible. Obviously due to the risks with muggle equipment in the magical world, this will have to be done by hand however, depending on how well the contest goes, we will take a trip into the muggle world at the end of November and go and visit the place where the contest began. It’s in California. For those of you who have trouble with writing, some of our senior students have agreed to scribe, you can also work in teams of two. The contest will be open to all years. Your heads of house will act as the Municipal Liaisons. We will have boards in The Great Hall for which house is in front. There will be prizes along the way.”
“What do you think Constance?” “I don’t know… I don’t know if I can write 50,000 words by hand” “You could use a DictaQuill or have a senior student scribe for you”
“Or maybe I can just give it a go myself. if my hand gets tired I can ask for help”
“I’d be willing to help you if you like Constance” “Thanks Kristy”
“I’d love to do it if I wasn’t so much of a buffoon and if my writing wasn’t so… ridiculous that no one can understand it.” Claudia sneered.
“Claud, if you want to do it, I will write the words and you can do the art” said Stacey
“I’d love to give it a try”
“Well then lets sign up together”
“Why don’t we all sign up?” Kristy suggested “we don’t need to work on the same novel… unless… I have a great idea! What about if we did a comic strip? About the BSC?” “Claudia can do the artwork, we can all come up with the ideas and Stacey and I will letter the bubbles.”
“That is a fabulous idea Kristy”
“This will be awesome” said Mal
Constance’s Point of View
Fred, George, Natasha, Harry, Draco and I were sitting in The Room of Requirement, discussing whether or not I should participate in the upcoming National Novel Writing Month thing that Natasha’s father, Professor Riddle was organising.
“Natasha, I have a confession to make. I never learned grammar properly.” I began. Before I could stop them, the words poured out of me like Niagara.
“When I first started school, I went to a catholic mainstream school. Given the difficulties I have, and the relative obscurity of Weaver’s Syndrome. The teachers did their best but after a while they wrote me off as useless at age 7.”
“That‘s awful”
“I know. They never gave me a proper chance to reach anything like my full potential. They tried to fob off my single parent mother with their ‘she doesn‘t understand this that or the other’ attitude but my mother was having none of it! My mother pulled me from that school, had me properly tested — which the school had had the nerve to say was a waste of resources. She sued the school, the catholic church, the education department and my father and home-schooled me from then until we moved to London. She taught me things that I would never have learnt in mainstream school, and she taught me things that the school hadn’t been prepared to try to teach my year because of me.”
“That‘s good, your mother did the right thing the school had a dreadful attitude towards you. Why did your mother sue your father?”
“I know she did. I asked her to — It’s a very long story. I’ll tell you later. It wasn‘t easy but somehow she figured out how to do it. After we moved, my mother got me a teacher, and I flexischooled.”
“Flexischooled?” Natasha asked puzzled
“Switching between the teacher and the local catholic school — a controversial compromise between the local authority and the parent and legal guardians of a special needs child with a disorder so rare 40 people on the planet have it. It‘s usualy seen as a last resort, though it wasn‘t in my case. My mother insisted that I should have a social worker to oversee my education — you could do that back then”
“Oh”
“Flexischooling went fine up until I was about to make my Confirmation. When the same issues occurred — about whether or not I would be able to understand the importance of the sacraments.” “But you‘d made your First Communion…” “Exactly. Confirmation requires more understanding however and in England the rules are slightly different to what they‘re like up here. Confirmation happens in Year 5 and not Year 7. My mother pulled me from school again and I worked full time with the teacher, The Pope intervened again but this time he wasn’t able to confirm me in person. He asked a priest from New York City who owed him a favour to do so privately.”
“Oh”
“When I was 10, I started puberty too early, so I had to go to hospital and they kept me in for two weeks. They told my mother it was because of the Weaver’s Syndrome. They didn‘t even acknowledge my presence in the room and I was the patient. I grew REALLY angry. I went ballistic at the stupid idiot doctor who was talking to my mother as though I was a slug or something that couldn‘t understand. The idiot doctor actually patted me on the head like some kind of overgrown hairless ugly dog and sent us on our way. I demanded that my mother file a complaint on my behalf. I couldn‘t do it myself because I was under 18.”
“That‘s terrible! You were the patient but you weren‘t even given the basic right of acknowledgement” “That‘s part of the reason I don‘t trust easily and hell mend anyone who breaks my trust. When we learned that I am a witch, we went to the WNHS. They tested me and poked and prodded but they STILL found nothing of consequence.”
“You said yourself that Weavers is so rare that 40 people on the planet have it.”
“Yeah, I know, but it‘s not exactly a valid reason for not being able to find anything”
“I suppose not” “Getting back to the subject of Grammar. I had Language Arts lessons, but they were more focused on writing stories than they were on the technicalities." “So you had creative writing lessons instead of language arts?” “Basically, yes I did. That’s why I don’t know a noun from my navel, a conjunction from a cold sore, an adjective from my arm, a verb from my vocal cords or a contraction from my slightly crooked nose! The problem with Weaver’s Syndrome is… I don’t belong with civilised people, I’m a freak they should isolate me.”
“You're not a freak or an inconvenience Constance, and they shouldn‘t treat you as though you are.”
“That is easily the most frustrating thing about Weaver Syndrome
It’s rare… It is not Autism. It is not Dyslexia. It is not Down Syndrome. It is not Cerebral Palsy. It is not Epilepsy. It is not Diabetes. It is not something normal.
I hate that word but Weaver Syndrome is so rare that it’s about as far from normal as it is possible to get.
That is how rare it is. It’s so rare that,
like I said earlier, 40 people on the planet have it. It’s so rare that they misdiagnosed me with Sotos Syndrome... which is what Claudia has.” “It‘s hardly an excuse for not treating you with any shred of dignity”
“Exactly. I have nothing against anyone who has any of the issues I listed but they’re not Weaver Syndrome! They’re a lot more common and a hell of a lot less misunderstood, and a lot more accepted." “That‘s true, it must be really frustrating” “It is incredibly frustrating being me. People who have those issues do not have as hard a struggle as someone who has a rare condition does. People who have those conditions can get help and don‘t get ridiculed or fobbed off like I do!”
“You shouldn‘t get fobbed off or ridiculed”
“You‘re right but I’ve heard people say I am a waste of resources. Someone who has a rare disorder that even the so-called experts don’t comprehend it. I’m fobbed off with excuses or told what I have is so rare that there is no solution and no one has the time or the money to find a solution all the time. I don’t know what’s more frustrating, having Weaver’s or the attitude of people who paid to help someone like me. I get told all the time I do not have a future.”
“You DO have a future”
“Maybe”
3 weeks later
November 1st dawned bright and cold and clear. After lessons ended for the day, the students participating in NaNoWriMo went to The Great Hall for the first official Write-In.
The Heads of Houses had organised Prep write-ins in their own houses but this was the first time the Write-In had been in The Great Hall.
The Great Hall looked somewhat different to how it normally looked. Instead of the 4 house tables and the staff table, there were smaller tables, they were round but they had individual writing stations that were slanted so that writing was easier.
“This is great! It makes writing so much easier!”
“You’re right, it does.”
The House Elves brought snacks for the participants to eat.
Professor Snape’s Point of View
“Constance never forgot the time that she started homeschooling… She had started primary school and done OK in Primary one but by the time she started Primary two, she had had the trauma of her father’s actions, of leaving with her mother and going to a new town, a new school, new teachers who didn’t understand her, new kids who would or would not accept her to deal with. Her grades were below average apparently yet she did the very best she could. She worked as hard as she could but by the beginning of Primary Three it was clear that mainstream catholic school just wasn’t working. The School had not cooperated on putting support in for her. Her mother fought with the school and ended up pulling her out and electing to homeschool her instead. The Catholic Education System had a lot to learn about educating kids with disabilities, that’s for sure”
The beginning of Constance’s novel was coming along nicely. I had been scribing for her, she had written thirteen pages on her own but her bad wrist began to cramp after that so I stepped in. On her way back to the Slytherin common room, someone tripped her from behind, she was sent sprawling headfirst along the corridor and she landed at the bottom of the stairs. Her manuscript was pulled from her hands and destroyed. She was beaten, kicked and viciously stamped upon.
I was just out of the shower when the call came through the fireplace.
“Severus… Severus come quickly!”
“Hold on Poppy, I’ll be right there… Accio robes”
I cast a drying charm on myself and got dressed.
“Constance is in the infirmary, she’s been attacked” “WHAT?” “Her novel was stolen out of her hand. The assailants jumped on her, stamped on her hands and kicked her. Then they SHREDDED her manuscript right in front of her. If Minerva hadn’t found them and stopped it Constance would probably be in much worse shape than she is now.”
“Where is Minerva, and where are the assailants?”
“Minerva’s office.” “All right, I’ll come and see Miss McMahon first then I’ll see Minerva.”
I stepped through the fireplace. Constance was sitting up in bed looking gloomy and furious.
“Miss McMahon, what happened?” “Someone tripped me, they beat me up, kicked me, stamped on me and stole my novel! Thank Merlin Professor McGonagall was making her rounds”
“Lucky you made copies then isn’t it?” said Professor Snape.
“Yes it is Professor. Thank you for teaching me the Gemino spell.”
“My pleasure”
“I’m going to teach my friends the same spell tomorrow.” “Good idea. I’m going to see Professor McGonagall.”
“Give her a hug and say thank you from me will you sir?”
“Of course I will”
“It’s the best I can do till I can get to Hogsmeade”
“Gluten Free Ginger Newts are her favourite biscuit”
“Dobby?” “Yes Miss Constance you called Dobby?” “Could you make some Gluten Free Ginger Newts and send them directly to Professor McGonagall’s office for me with a note saying thank you for rescuing me?” “Of course Miss Constance Dobby bes doing that right away” “Thanks Dobby…”
Minerva’s Point of View
“Three students… THREE STUDENTS FROM MY OWN HOUSE, OUT OF BED, OUT OF BOUNDS, ATTACKING STUDENTS WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING TO THEM! ATTACKING STUDENTS THEY HAVE BEEN WARNED TO KEEP AWAY FROM! THIS ENDS HERE…
CRACKLE
“Professor Riddle?” “Yes? Minerva what has your tail in a knot?”
“bullying… AGAIN”
“Oh? Send the culprits through. Natasha is here and she told me everything that happened”
“Good”
“She also demanded that I let her expel them”
I chuckled.
I ended the call and turned to go back to my desk when there was a sudden faint pop.
“Dobby? What are you doing here?” “Dobby bes delivering a gift from Miss Constance to say thank you for rescuing her”
“What are they?” “Gluten free Ginger Newts” “How did she know?” “Professor Batty Potions Master told her” I threw my head back and ROARED with laughter at Dobby’s nickname for Severus.
The writing contest continued for the duration of the month. At the end of the month, prizes were awarded…
“Would you like to do this again?” “I think we should make it a regular thing. There’s another event in April and one in July as well.” “We could go to a caravan site and do it there with your friends” “That would be wonderful” "We can invite Perseus, Romulus, Sirius, Remus and Sev..." "That might work"
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