Author's note.

Well I have just, after nearly 100,000 words, got my first flame. Amazing to have inspired so much apathy. (That was intended to be funny). Anyway, in response.

From Wikepedia.

A Drabble is an extremely short work of fiction with exactly one hundred words (or sometimes 100 words maximum depending on the exercise or contest). The purpose of the drabble is to teach brevity and test author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in an extremely confined space.

In drabble contests participants are given a theme and a certain amount of time to write a drabble. Drabble contests and drabbles in general are popular in Science Fiction fandom and in fanfiction. The concept is said to have originated in UK Science Fiction fandom in the 1980s, the 100-word format was established by the Birmingham University SF Society.

The language greatly affects the ease of writing a drabble. For example, the Finnish two-word sentence "Heittäytyisinköhän seikkailuun?" would translate into English as "What if I should throw myself into an adventure?", a sentence of nine words. Therefore Finnish is an easy language in which to write a drabble, whereas English is difficult.

The word drabble comes from the 1971 Monty Python's Big Red Book. It was a word game where the first participant to write a novel wins. In order to make the game possible the Science Fiction fandom agreed that 100 words will suffice.

I have an appalling tendency towards prolixity. And long words.

I have been writing for the hp100 community on Live Journal with variable success, given the constraints of the form. Con crit will much appreciated, especially if reviewers are specific.

Please note that while I can hope for internal consistency in 100 words, the drabbles do contradict each other.

My first drabble is


The challenge was 'Independence'.

He had deceived the Dark Lord but he had been less than completely honest with Dumbledore. The price of this independence is to be his soul.

The silence is crushing. He is sure that they must hear the little bottle break under his teeth. As bitter poison floods his mouth the chamber comes into sharper focus.

The Potter boy is crying.

In these last moments Snape can afford compassion. 'Not your fault, Potter. There was nothing you could do.'

Pandemonium. The Minister gestures angrily. The Dementor slides forwards and the prisoner's long fingers clench. Then he relaxes into the chains.