A/N I don't know, I just decided to write a
METMA fic. I get odd urges. That didn't sound right, did it? Oh well…This be from the p.o.v. of
…um…Harry's wand, because it has to do all sorts of odd stuff.
Disclaimer: All stuffs mentioned here belong to the
Goddess of Everything and Everyone, J. K. Rowling. METMA belongs to METMA Mandy. Harry's wand *would* belong to him if he wasn't fictitious.
Lament of a Hero's Wand
By Tualha, for METMA
(We see a thin
splinter of holly, the blond wood looking droopy and gloomy, and it is without
much sheen. It also isn't very clean
(A/N Odd. I always pictured Harry's wand
being dark wood, but I researched this, and found that holly is
light-colored. Oh well.) Then, the wand
speaks, in a rather high, nerdy voice choked with tears)
*gasp, gasp* Oh
lord! He's left me here! To die, I tell you, to DIE!!! After all this…I went through so much for
him! Not many wands could have held out
through being (eurgh) fondled by Tom Riddle, or attacking a FULL GROWN
MAN and being handled by a THIRTEEN YEAR-OLD BOY!!!! And *no* wand that *I* know of could have withstood Priori
Incantatem! I was so good to him, I
never broke, I did my best! And he's
left me here! I faced You-Know-Who for
him, and he never even polished me! Not
once! Treasonous, I tell you! And now…now…we came again to fight, and he
dropped me, and he's just going to let me sit here and be destroyed! Not fair, I tell you, not fair!
Oh God, I
promised myself I wouldn't cry! (The
wand breaks into horrible, pitiful sobs that come straight from its core. You can see the anguish that it's going
through. Suddenly, a short, dark-haired
boy comes rushing by, and picks up the wand) *blink, blink* Oh. He's
back. Yay! He came back for me! I
love you, Harry! Woohoo! (As the boy runs out of view, the wand dances like a maniac as much as
is wandily possible)
A/N
Riiiiiiiiiiiighteeeeeeooooooo then…that was odd…remind me why I wrote this
again? ::walks off muttering::