Write about something you've lost.

I expect people will be thinking I'm going write about my mother for this, but that's silly. I haven't lost her. I'll always have her!

Shortly after she died, though, Daddy did catch me a baby Heliopath. He found it down by the bridge at the bottom of our garden. It must have got lost or something, because I haven't found one there since.

I don't know if you're familiar with Heliopaths, but they're easily domesticated, at least if you're careful. Cornelius Fudge, the old Minister for Magic, he had an army of them.

They're spirits of fire, but you can even train them to control their flames, so they can burn things at will rather than accidentally (and constantly). To do this, though, you have to keep them in isolation for a few weeks before handling them. Otherwise, Daddy says, they'll be frightened by your touch, and combust, and it isn't a reversible process.

Daddy put him in a box with some fire-proof padding and a little teddy bear (for company), and then we put the box up on my dresser. Then all we could do was wait.

Two weeks passed, and I checked on the box everyday, making sure it was being kept warm enough, and that everything was ok. And then, finally, enough time had passed, and I was able to open it!

But, when I did, the poor little thing was gone. I searched the house from top to bottom, but I couldn't find the tiny Heliopath anywhere. Daddy said it didn't matter, it obviously just hadn't been the right sort of pet for me, but I was still terribly upset. Some of them just can't be domesticated, but I'd felt so certain this one would be.

I haven't had any pets since they. I've been a little scared. I know I'm hardly nine years old now, but what if I lose them too?

Forest and Creek

Every Sunday afternoon, when Luna was small, her father would take her down to the stream at the bottom of their garden to fish for Plimpies. They'd sit on the bridge with a large supply of sandwiches and a flask of Gurdyroot infusion, and wait. Sometimes they'd stay there until the sun began to set. They never actually caught anything, though.

Luna always believed that this was because of her father's technique, not the lack of plimpies. They weren't stupid creatures. Why would they let themselves be impaled on the vicious fish hooks Xenophilius favoured?

They'd return home empty-handed and, more often than not, extremely disheveled. But it didn't matter, because Luna's mother would help them get their damp clothing off, and she'd sit them down in front of the range with biscuits and cocoa until their smiles returned.

After she died, Xenophilius determinedly continued with the weekly fishing trips, although their return to the house was no longer the most enjoyable part of the day.

When Luna became older, he'd send her down to the stream on her own, with instructions and a packed lunch and, if he wasn't distracted by an article on the Rotfang Conspiracy, a waterproof fire in a jam-jar.

Luna enjoyed the peace and quiet, which isn't to say she didn't like the chaos and noise of her house. It was just that it was nice to get some time to herself to really think.

In Spring and Summer she'd stretch out on the wooden boards to feel the warm sunlight filtering through the leaves on the few exposed inches of her skin. In Autumn, she'd build a nest for herself out of crisp orange leaves. In Winter she'd curl up in a ball around the jam-jar fire. She didn't really pay much attention to the actual fishing on those days.

She still didn't catch any Plimpies, but she didn't really expect to. She hadn't actually put the hook on.

Write about a recurring dream you've had.

I'm walking through the Forbidden Forest. It's a surprisingly warm Autumn afternoon and the leaves are crunching underneath my feet as I walk. Weak shafts of sunlight are filtering through the canopy of leaves above my head. I've never been anywhere so quiet or so peaceful.

There is a Thestral standing close by, half hidden in the shadows. I can see its bright white eyes glinting in the darkness. Anyone else would probably be scared of it, but it doesn't look frightening. It looks lonely. A bit like me, really. It's separate from its herd, just like I'm separate from everyone else in Hogwarts.

I think it understands me. It steps daintily across the ground towards, stretching out its dragon-like neck so I can stroke it. Then, before I can touch him, he starts to nudge me. Gently at first, then harder. Its skeletal nose pushes into my shoulder, and I take a step backwards despite myself.

Slowly, but steadily, the Thestral pushes me further and further backwards, right out of the forest and into the sunshine. It's almost painfully bright after the darkness inside.

Once it has guided me across the grounds towards the lake, the Thestral stops nudging me. It watches me for a moment, just the tiniest fraction of a second, before disappearing back into the Forbidden Forest as quickly as it appeared.

I stand on the shore of the lake feeling very confused, and listening to the soft waves which are being whipped up by the cool autumnal breeze. I'm still looking towards the forest, and my Thestral. I don't want it to leave. It's the closest thing I have to a friend here at Hogwarts.

There are footsteps nearby, and I want to run. I want to find that peace again, to be quiet and alone and at home like I was in the forest.

I know I can't, though, so I turn and face them.

At first I don't realise who it is. I could have been looking at myself, and its been such a long time since I last saw her. My mother smiles at me, and reaches out a hand to take mine in hers. Her palm is cool to the touch, and she doesn't seem to be able to speak, but I don't mind, because she's my mother and, somehow, she's here.

We walk along the edge of the lake in silence, watching the giant squid splashing about and the Thestrals flying about above the treetops. I recognise the one I saw earlier. He's joined the herd at last. Its nice to know that neither of us are alone, even if its just for the night.

Write two letters: One to someone you hurt and the other to someone who hurt you.

I don't think I've hurt anyone. At least I hope I haven't. If I have hurt you, I'm very sorry. It was an accident. I've always tried to be a nice person, even when people aren't nice to me. My mother taught me that. She taught me a lot of things. Just because people don't believe in Nargles she'd say, doesn't mean they are a bad person. Some people are just more closed-minded than others. Such a shame

It makes me sad to say that the other letter is much easier. There are a lot of people I could write it to.

I could write it to Bellatrix Lestrange, who kept me locked up in a cellar for months, and treated me like an animal. She laughed at me, and she called me Loony. I didn't mind the name too much when it was people back at Hogwarts were saying it, but Bellatrix said it like it was something dirty.

I suppose I could write it to You-Know-Who (I'm not as brave as Harry, I still can't say his name). It was all his fault, all the bad things that happened. He hurt my friends, and tried to destory my school. He didn't succeed, but he tried, and that's bad enough.

But, do you know what? I'm not going to write either letter. Because that would imply that I hated them. My mother always said hate was a terrible thing. I don't want to hate anyone, even if they deserve it. It might sound a bit like blowing my own trumpet, but I do like to think I'm better than that.