Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Well That Was Random ❯ 25, 18, 12, 46 ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Here's another fic experiment for me. This is really to practice my writing in different styles. The sentence fragments are there on purpose. I'll tell you who the perspective of each is at the bottom (although it really doesn't matter as much). This is a lot different from my normal humorous ventures, but future chapters may be funny. I'll upload them as I complete them. Verry drabble-ish and not interconnected.

These were inspired by the 64 damn prompts on livejournal found here (remove the spaces and replace the dots): community(dot)livejournal(dot)com / 64damn_prompts / profile

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

25. Acid

They were green. So green. The color of death's magical incarnate. The color of grass on a cool summer day. Like sparkling emeralds.

When he was angry they lit up with such ferocity, it was like they were spitting acid. They don't spit acid anymore.

How could those pools of green be so empty now? So dull? Why did the light have to leave them?

As I watched him fall I thought of the grass on a cool summer day. The grass we sat on out by the lake. I thought of how his eyes sparkled like emeralds when he was happy and how they glowed like the killing curse when we made love under the stars.

As I watched him fall I thought of how there was no word to describe the beauty and life that shone in his eyes except gone.

18. Crest

When the hat announced its choice everything froze. I was shaking so hard I couldn't get off the stool. Someone removed the hat from my head. The hall was silent. I don't understand. What's happening?

Someone pushed me towards my new house table. The silence was oppressive. When everyone else's house was called there was cheering. Why won't anyone cheer for me?

I feel sick. I sit down at the table. Everyone stares. Silence. No other names are being called. Did the world stop for me? I wish it would. I wish the world would stop. Why did this happen to me?

Slowly the sorting resumes. Everyone's subdued. The rest of the new students all get less applause than they expected. No one seems to notice. They're all staring at me. Why can't the world swallow me up?

I look down at my robes. That crest. Why this crest? It's mocking me. It's mocking everything I believed in. I thought this was my chance. I thought for once I wouldn't be a freak. When this crest attached itself to my robes my one chance at happiness was destroyed. I hate it.

Why won't the world stop for me? The snake on the crest just sits there—mocking me. I wish I were anywhere but here.

Why can't the world swallow me up?

12. Children

It was war. It was guerilla war. We let our guard down for one second and the world fell apart. Our world was destroyed.

So many fallen. So many gone. Victory is bittersweet in the face of such loss.

The count came in. The final battle left 461 dead. They fought for their lives, but they didn't fight hard enough.

It happened at the school. We got so complacent with the seeming peace—then they attacked. It was gruesome. We fought with all we had, but as we fought we saw those at our sides fall. It hurt.

The count of 461 was unrealistic. 332 of them were children. The children of our future. Why must the young suffer for the sins of the old?

It wasn't so hard to forget until I saw them. Lying in the grass soaked red with fresh blood were the bodies of two first year students and a fifth year. It looked as though the fifth year died protecting them. Their entrails splayed across the grass and their mouths wrenched open in horror. This is our victory.

We won, but at what cost?

46. Dust

We were soldiers. We fought for our lives and our ideals. Now we're gone. Looking over the proceedings was hard. So many people crying. Why?

We fought for them. We fought for us. We fought for the future.

We don't have a future, but they do. That's what matters. Those bodies they hold to their bosoms as they weep are but husks. We're gone. We've left them.

As time goes on our shells will be put in the ground. They'll turn to nothing but dust. That's what life amounts to. Years will pass and we'll be forgotten. We will be remembered in an abstract. We'll be some of the numerous soldiers who lost their lives in the battle, but that's okay. We'll be dust.

If those who survived can live on that'll be enough. We fought for the future. Not just our futures—the future. Let them live it and love it. One day they'll be dust too then they'll understand. When you're dust things make a lot more sense. After all, what does life matter when you're not alive?

A/N: The perspectives are as follows:

Acid: it doesn't matter whose perspective it's from all that matters is that it's about Harry. However I wrote it with Draco in mind.

Crest: Harry

Children: it doesn't matter whose perspective it is but I wrote it with both Snape and Kingsley in mind.

Dust: There is not character for this one. However, I thought of it from the perspective of the older children (sixth and seventh years) who died in the battle.

Thanks for reading. Please review if you have the chance. I really appreciate feedback for improvement or even someone telling me that they're reading and want to continue reading these drabbles.