Written for the Idiom Challenge on HPFC- Ginny Weasley and The pen is mightier than the sword.
Reviewers get Harry Potter rescuing you with a kick-ass sword.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
It's a Muggle saying that Dad told me about once.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
I was quite puzzled, and laughed at the thought of an ordinary quill pen locked in an epic battle with a sword.
But Dad shook his head at my giggles, and said, "You'll understand when you're older." That silenced me like nothing else. I hated being treated like a baby. I shook my head as if to brush off a dismissal, and flounced up to my room, where I took my diary from its hiding place underneath my pillow. I began to write.
Dear Tom,
My dad just told me the funniest Muggle saying...
I didn't think it had any meaning then, but I know it does now.
Over my first year at Hogwarts, my trusty diary nearly consumed me. It ensnared me, trapped me, but the capture was so smooth and gradual that I didn't realize it until it was already too late.
Every word I wrote into that diary was one less minute I had to live. With every word, Tom siphoned my life, just as the ink was siphoned off the page.
In my innocent, naive world of black and white, no ordinary pen had that power. Words didn't have the power of life and death! No, that was flashing steel and bright jets of light that destroyed a person. Not scribbled words in pitch-black ink!
The pen is mightier than the sword...and oh, how I realized that as I lay dying on a cold stone floor.
With every entry in that diary, I signed and sealed my death warrant.
As, Tom, my loyal friend, stood over me, drawing more and more strength as I grew more and more weak, and mocked me, I finally understood what Dad meant.
Now I knew, now that I was dying by my own hand, or rather, the words it wrote.
That was my final thought as everything faded to black-
The pen is mightier than the sword.
Until Harry Potter, my Boy-Who-Lived and knight in shining armor, showed up with a sword.
When I woke, he was right over me, looking pale and frightened-for me...
He was holding a sword, a beautiful shining one with blood red stones studding the hilt.
I blinked in confusion, and the sword was still there.
And I looked around, and the Basilisk lay slain, and the diary was destroyed, and Tom was gone, and I was free.
I remembered my last thought- The pen is mightier than the sword.
But maybe it depends on who exactly is wielding the sword...