Here We Go

Side blog for me to write my amateur fanfiction excerpts and whatnot

[amateurpen]

Hello!

This is a side blog of mine for writing! I’m a first time fan fiction writer so I’m looking to post excerpts and piece together a fanfic or two, as well as toss up any of my other, non-fan fiction writing!

Here’s to having an ok time,

Amapen

[amateurpen]

To my few and loved readers (as well as myself),

I’m not feeling too secure in some of my characterizations so far, but it’s just the beginning. Plus, these are all first or second drafts, without too much editing as much as ‘oooooh get that scene down before I forget’. I’m just tossing ideas down, and everything is a work in progress, so it’s ok if it isnt up to my standard because I’m having fun and it’s all a journey. All I can do is keep going, keep editing, and (most importantly) keep enjoying myself! Have a good one, I’ll see you in the next post!

Working hard and hardly working,

Amapen

[amateurpen]

Exerpt from year 1, on the train

Hermione was feeling rather small.

A whole train of compartments. Compartments full of people. A train full of people she doesn’t know. “Okay,” She whispered to herself. “Just find a compartment with someone who won’t mind sharing.” Hermione started down the long hallway, glancing into rooms and through doors.

Each one was almost the exact some though.

“Sorry, I’m saving it.”, “Not here, firstie.”, and “We’re all full up here.” were just some dismissals she was given.

Hermione was rather annoyed, actually. A Whole Train of compartments, and not one for her? Glancing through the next rooms window, there seemed to be just one person in there. She knocked on the door in a short pattern, then cracked the door to see a nervous looking boy sitting next to a pet carrier.

“Hello, I’m Hermione Granger. Can I sit in here with you?” Introductions were always an important part of meeting people, her parents said. It’s the polite thing to do.

The boy nodded. “Hullo, I’m Neville Longbottom.” He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves. The two sat in silence for a good 30 seconds, neither knowing what to say or do.

“So..”Neville broke the quiet first. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” It was a good attempt at breaking the ice, and Hermione was glad that she didn’t have to say something first. No one her age seemed to like it when she talked, even though adults seemed to.

“I really like vanilla, I can just add anything I want to it and It’ll still taste good. What about you?” Hermione tossed the question back at Neville.

Neville tilted his head a bit, thinking. “I think strawberry’s not bad. I tried growing some when I was younger.”

“Oh, my mum does some gardening, but its just flowers that she grows.” Hermione said. “I’m no good at it.”

“My mum helped me with mine.” Neville replied with a smile

As they spoke and got to know each other, the train started to move. No one else came to the compartment they were occupying, which worked for them just fine. The trolley witch came by with her cart of candy, drinks, and sandwiches around midday. They each bought a sandwich, a drink, and some candy, though Neville bought more candy than Hermione did.

“So Neville,” Hermione spoke after a sip of her water. “What house do you think you’ll be in? I like the idea of Ravenclaw, but I figure I can read no matter what house I’m in.”

Neville’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly and his face adopted a nervous sort of look.

“I uh..” He started, then faltered. “I’m hoping for Hufflepuff, I guess. Gryffindor seems okay, but it seems a bit ah..” He glanced out the window. “Intimidating, I guess.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. How can traits be intimidating, she wondered. “How so?”

“Gryffindor is all about courage, right? Bravery and nerve. But I don’t think I could have all that if I were sorted there. I’m just not like-“ Neville motioned vaguely. “You know?”

Hermione thought about it. It made sense, she thought. This whole sorting business made her nervous, but Neville seemed to be more nervous than she was. But maybe he was overthinking it a bit. Her mum said that she always did, so why couldn’t Neville also overthink it?

Hermione looked at her new friend. Were they friends? It certainly felt like it. “Why don’t you think you’re brave?” She asked.

“Because I’m scared.

Hermione took a moment. Then she took a breath. “But isn’t that what bravery is?”

Neville gave her a funny look. “How is fear brave?”

“Well,” Hermione said in a teacher-like voice. “You admitted to being afraid, and that takes courage. I haven’t been able to tell anyone when I’m scared or nervous since I was a kid, but you were able to see it and call it by its name. It sounds brave to me.”

Neville, still a bit nervous but relaxed, rolled his eyes. “How can that be brave? Being afraid is the opposite of being brave. That’s what my great uncle says.”

“My granddad says that being afraid is a symptom of bravery.” Hermione retorted with furrowed brows. “To be brave is to recognize your fears, but doing what you need to in spite of it.”

It was quiet in the small room, the sunset streaming in through the window and hitting the door.

Eventually, Neville spoke. “Kinda like ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’? Because you have to risk to gain?”

Hermione nodded. “I certainly think so.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m still not sure I’d belong in Gryffindor.”

Hermione relented. “That’s okay too.”

“Well.” Neville said. “What about you? You said something about Ravenclaw, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, well, I like to think that I’m smart and creative, but I don’t know. I think I just want to make friends, as well as studying hard. I’ve never had very many friends at all, so I want it to be different here.”

Neville nodded. “Do you want to be my friend?” He asked.

Hermione smiled, her large teeth on display. “Really? I would really really like that.”

She looked at Neville and didn’t need to wonder any longer. They were definitely friends.

I wanted to write Hermione and Neville meeting on the train, pre-sorting. I was looking through some things onine and was reminded that Neville didn’t want to be in Gryffindor at first, and argued with the hat over it. Hermione is still a bit pushy and digs a bit too much when talking to others, but really, what 12 year old is the perfect conversationallist? I was also hoping to show that she was ‘unafraid of toil’ so she argued a bit even if it was too soon to. I also wanted to show a bit of loyalty. She didnt have to talk with Neville about what he felt, but did anyways be there for someone that she wanted to be her friend.

[amateurpen]

Here’s the first thing I’ve made so far! It’s a scene for my hufflepuff!Hermione fic. In this scene, shes anonymously marketing the fountain pen to her housemates. Enjoy!

(also, how do you do the ‘continue reading’ thing that cuts off the post on moble? ive googled it a bit but ive had no luck)

“Whose mess is this, the Common Room is supposed to stay tidied.” A fifth year boy demanded it with a kind, but firm, tone. The second year boy he asked jumped slightly, not having heard the older boy approach him.

“Oh, uhm it’s a, muggle water-pen! Whoever left this, uh they left a note! Here!” The second year stammered out, practically shoving the slip of parchment to the much taller and pulled together child. The second year student was still visibly startled, with eyes seemingly as wide as any ocean and his breathing only just starting to calm. The older boy, whose answer was never answered, took the note and scanned it quickly, only interrupting himself to glance up from the note to the muggle pen.

“Uhhh, ok? I guess?” He muttered after he read it the first time, them read it a second time.

“Oh, stop with the throat noises Kirby,” a friend of his cut off his reading and rereading from her place at an armchair across the room with a sigh, her hand tugging absently at her own dark hair. “And tell the rest of us what it says.”

Kirby, the fifth year boy with the note, looked around the common room to see half the room staring back at him. His ears adopted a reddish look from slight embarrassment. Clearing his throat and fiddling with his black and yellow tie, he started to read:

“‘To those interested,

“‘This is a fountain pen. It writes like a quill, with half the issues and twice the efficiency. Instead of stopping to dip the point into the ink every other sentence, the ink is stored inside the pen, allowing for continuous writing. As the ink is inside the pen, there is also no fear of spilling an inkwell. The tip can be switched out on the pen to create thicker or thinner lines and the ink cartridge inside can be switched out once the original is empty.’”

Kirby took a pause and glanced up at the crowd, and the half filled common-room of people were staring back at him.

“‘This particular fountain pen, this note, and the scrap of parchment are all charmed to return to this table, allowing only eight feet of distance between these items and the table, for one week for anyone who pleases to try it. On saturday morning, the pen, note, and parchment will be replaced by a box and some order forms for any person who finds themselves with want for a pen such as this. This will not be offered to the other three houses. Think of it as a House-Exclusive Offer.

“‘Anxiously awaiting Saturday,

“‘The Mindful Badger’”

The bright common-room was filled with murmurs and glances all around. After a beat or two of contemplation, a third year girl reached out for the pen.

“Elizebeth, don’t touch that!” Another third year scolded, trying to take the pen from her hand. “It could be charmed to do something to you!”

Elizebeth dodged out of the way, her friend only momentarily grazing the flat tops of her baby blue nails.

“I am so tired of spilling ink on my essays and accidentally vanishing the ends of my sentences when I mean to vanish the spilled ink.” Elizebeth twirled the pen between her fingers, feeling the weight of it. “If this is everything the note says it is, I’ll never have to deal with an inked up essay again! I won’t have to look out for cats at all. Now..” With that all said, Elizebeth gripped the fountain pen and started scribbling on the parchment.

Hermione sat in the school kitchens behind the pear painting with a smile on her face, and a warm mug of festive peppermint tea in her hands. For some odd reason, she felt like celebrating.

[amateurpen]

Current WIP I’m working on:

General plan: Hermione Granger is loyal. Hermione Granger is clever. Loyal enough to be willing to do anything for those around her. Clever enough to form and complete any plan for said people. But if she had loyalty to herself in the way she has for others? Well, the wind, waves, and trees wouldn’t bow to her, but they would definitely see her on her way.

Hufflepuff Hermione, No Voldemort, Healthy Child-Parent Relationships, Hermione and Neville are Good Friends, Hermione is v stubborn and Will use any Muggle Object she so pleases no matter where she is or so help her

[insomniac-dot-ink]

I think my writing is improving as I stop asking myself “is this good enough?” and start asking myself “is this honest? Is this true to me?”

“Good” is so arbitrary, but the harder I focus on being honest over being good I think the quality improves and connects more genuinely with people

[writeness]

one of the best pieces of writing advice i’ve ever gotten:

if a scene isn’t working, change the weather.

it sounds stupid, but seriously, it works. thank u to my screenwriting professor for this wisdom