"Will I die?" He whispers softly, so softly.
I don't have the heart to tell him; no.
Here is the child time will heal. Here is the boy who has been manipulated – not into a hero as the public wanted, but a martyr. And if that was indeed needed... who's alive to say? Perception is up to the owner, it is individual - and every thought and view is precious.
People lie and people take without giving, it is this that has occurred most to this boy and in time he shall understand. Human nature is a thing he shall understand. After all, after this war is done he shall have all the time in the world.
My poor boy. I wish things could have gone differently. At least he didn't see much of the war, running around the country Horcrux hunting. He doesn't know what the worst Death Eaters have done; he doesn't know how easily a Light spell can work like a Dark one. Wingardium Leviosa - appropriately powered can kill just as easy as Sectumsempra after all.
The grass beneath him appears black in the night, the stars shining down on his pale skin. Mars is bright tonight, a premonition of blood yet to be spilled – or one that is too late. He's smiling this child, his expression so peaceful. Slender fingers clutch around the Resurrection Stone as though a beloved gift. For this night will he allow the indulgence, upon this eve nothing is asked of the Boy-Who-Lived, nothing is expected as they tend to their dead. He has learned his lessons well.
Only he can give himself his peace, only he can lead himself forward to his future and provide a goal. What will he live for now? At least... now he has a chance to live.
Though now... right now as he lies here... I know what he wishes for and I know it is something he will not receive. The manipulators are dead and still he feels the effects. It has not occurred to him yet, he has pushed the facts far from his mind; many of his loved ones have passed this night. When he realises this he will want to be with them – apologise to them.
High above the trees rustle in a cool breeze, a leaf tumbling down to land over one eye. He laughs, a low breathy sound – like a child after racing around for hours. Here on the ground he rests, ancient trees all around. He should have known there would be a Death Eater near, hidden and waiting to avenge their master. At least he found the Stone.
Slowly the grass beneath him turns darker and darker, and his face steadily paler. His breath hitches, his eyes so hard to keep open. Vaguely he knows he's spending more time unconscious than awake, his laughter taking up each time from where it left off. It is almost surreal to watch.
Carried by the breeze urgent voices call, unheeded there is no need anymore. Slowly, as though weighed down by a rock he raises a hand to the sky, grasping for a star overhead. Sirius.
He gasps, eyes going wide and like the moon being revealed from a cloud, he smiles.
His arm collapses by his head, green orbs become glassy and his last breath catches in his throat.
I don't have the heart to tell him; no. The last mark left by that manipulator. Death will not keep him.
He is now the Master after all.
*-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii:ooooooooooooooooooooolinebrrreeeeeaaaaaaaakkooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Anyone want to take this and develop it further feel free, just tell me so I can add it to my fav's or something.
I've never seen anyone use Wingardium Leviosa as an offensive spell in a fic, is there a reason, or am I just being obtuse?
A rather odd little fic, the first couple of lines got stuck in my head and this is what came out. Normal raving that occurs at two in the morning. I'm having trouble editing - the writing just won't show up at all. Pain in the arse.
Disclaimer: World and characters belong to JK I'm just playing