A/N: Another fic! The holidays must be getting to me. Hopefully, I'll have a new chapter for "Erroneous Lies" soon. :)
Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Lots of reviews rolling in (for me that is).
I'd appreciate if you could read 'While They Slept' for me and tell me if I should leave it as a one-shot. I'm rather stuck for ideas at the minute.
Read and review- maybe I'll update faster! (I wish)
Happy reading
logicube
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Disclaimer: Anything that seems familiar is not mine-it belongs to the wonderful and talented J. K. Rowling.
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A Glimpse of Gold
Chapter 1
It was a bright, sunny day.
The sky was blue, the birds were singing and the sun beamed down on humankind.
However, down below, it was a different story.
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On a seemingly deserted patch of land, there stood a large crowd, watching and waiting; quietly mourning; subdued. The reason for this gathering lay, in her old school robes, inside a long, exquisitely carved wooden box. Her unruly hair framed her delicate face, her features tranquil in death. At last.
Next to the box, there sat a lone figure- a boy, no older than eighteen. Deep worry lines were etched across his young face, lines that should not have been there. His expression was weary, reflecting the thoughts and worries he kept inside, thoughts and worries that were old beyond his years. His piercing green eyes glared fixedly, resolutely at some unknown point, glazed over in grief. He tucked his knees under his chin as he rocked quietly backwards and forwards, repeatedly smoothing out and crumpling a worn piece of parchment.
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A hand motioned to him, and he gave a start, heaving himself up on unsteady legs. Someone passed him a flask and he took a swig, the liquid dribbling out the corners of his mouth, doing little to help his parched throat. Raising a trembling hand to wipe off his mouth, he stumbled forward and cleared his throat uncertainly. Hundreds and thousands of faces turned toward him.
He smiled weakly, and pointed his wand at his throat. "Sonorus!"
Peering back nervously at the gathered crowed, the boy opened his mouth. A large lump was forming in the back of his throat, his words sticking to it as if it were glue. He cleared his throat again, the sound escaping as a loud, hacking cough. The crowd had grown deadly silent. All attention was now focused on him.
He gazed down at the sea of people, their eyes trained on his, their faces carefully blank. In a world like this, you learnt to hide your emotions- or try to.
He turned away momentarily, remembering her last words to him. Don't mourn for me, Harry. Be strong. The people need you. He smiled bitterly, a twisted lift of the lips. Then, it was gone, the smile wiped off, his face stony and impassive once more. He took a deep breath, steeled himself and turned once more to address the crowd.
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"The human heart. It's strange how much emphasis we place on this organ, the depth of the feelings and circumstances we attach to it, how frequently and sometimes off-handedly it is used in the English language. It's strange how much we value it, how much we depend on it. It's strange how we always try to second guess what's in someone's heart. It's strange, because all it really is, is a muscle; an organ about the size of your fist."
The crowd shuffled uncomfortably, unsettled by his strange beginning. Somewhere amongst the flock of heads, a baby began to cry.
"Or is it? We, as humans, all have feelings. We have strong beliefs and opinions on certain subjects; these influence heavily on the way we think and act. We all have certain beliefs which we are very passionate about, beliefs we would fight for. We, as humans, all have our own characteristics and talents, our own morals and values. It is these things that make us human."
The crowd was quieting down once again.
"And it is also, ironically, these characteristics that we find hard to characterise, that we find hard to place our finger on, that we find hard to fit into our nice neat view of how the human body works. Therefore, we place all these characteristics under one category; in one place- the heart."
The crowd murmured its approval, willing him to go on.
"I strongly believe that there are people in this world of ours, however few, who are truly worthy to have a heart of gold, who care so much for others that though it is a blessing, it is also a curse."
Harry smiled to himself, remembering the golden heart he had tenderly placed in her palm.
"It is for one of these people that we have gathered here today. She was as near to perfect as a human could ever get. In all things, she never did them for herself, but instead, selflessly gave to others. She fought for those who had less power than herself, and treated them as her equals. She fought to rid the world of evil, yet was never given any acknowledgement by the wizarding world. Even as she was dying, she thought only of others, and advised those by her side to keep fighting, not for her, but for those that she said truly needed it. It is because of her selflessness that she is no longer with us."
The crowd had gone deadly silent. The occasional sniffle could be heard.
"I remember once, she told me that friendship and bravery were the most important things in the world. All who knew her would say that she was indeed a great friend, yet also a true and brave fighter. She managed to embrace the two qualities which she thought the best. In doing so, she also attained many, many more."
He smiled wistfully- reminiscing, remembering the joyful, carefree days long past. Remembering her warm smile, her bubbling laughter and her deep, meaningful eyes- eyes which were now forever closed in death. His smile was now slightly strained.
"It has been said that the good always die young, so that they may be taken away, to a place better than our earth, a paradise we mortals can only dream of. I believe that this is where she, too, has gone."
"I believe, too, that she would not want us to be sad, nor to mourn her death. Instead, she would want us to be happy, to celebrate the defeat -her defeat- of the Dark Lord. So today, although it is hard, I ask you to join with me in rejoicing- rejoicing in her trip to paradise, rejoicing in the fact that finally, she will be able to live- not others- but for herself. We should rejoice that now, she can be truly happy."
Heaving a shuddering sigh, Harry forced a smile and turned away.
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In the midst of the crowd, a hooded figure lowered his head. Amen.
Then, with a swish of his cloak, he disapparated, leaving a single blond hair in his wake.
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Hermione Granger. 1980- 1997. Beloved by all who knew her. Here lies a young woman who lived and died not for herself, but for others.
It was a bright and sunny day. The sky was blue and the sun shone. But down below, it was a different story.
A/N: What did you think? Good? Bad? I know that it was a bit short… I'll try to make my chapters longer…
Please review- constructive criticism welcome. (I use this site to further my writing skills.)
What do you know, maybe I'll be inspired by my wonderful reviewers!
logicube