Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


March 2nd 2013 in Microfiction

There was another memory he eventually told them about, long after the final battle was fought and won. Snape, as a young boy of maybe 15, had poured his genius into a potion that allowed him to go to the school dance desirable. The girls batted their eyelashes at him; the other boys clapped him on the shoulder with admiration. “The Prince Charming Spell,” Hermione said softly. “Yes,” Harry confirmed with a sigh. “He cast it to know a moment of temporary happiness, but found it made him realize how miserable he really was. Eventually, you go back to who you are and the life you have. He never used the spell again.” Ron, who had long wished to be someone else, fell silent for a long time.

Comments are closed.

“And what will you take from me, My Queen?” Hornbrow sneered. “My allegiance?” He spit a plop of green slime on the ground in defiance. “Why bother winning away what has no value to the loser?” Titania said softly. “No. Oh, no, bane of my rule. I shall take your hope, your light, your … […]

Previous Entry

Writing on the front of this photograph says “Temple Sanitarium, Hardship, Idaho”. The back reads “[BLANK]“.

(Source: unknown)

Tansy’s answer:  “Their point made, the head was returned to the lab and a proper ball was requisitioned.” (Post your own answers and read the genius of others on the Tansy Undercrypt Facebook page here.)

Next Entry