Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Regrets
Chapter One
0 reviewsThe last stand, after the last battle. Four students choose freedom. Twoshot.
0Cliche
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"Are you happy now?" She stood, as if it were a dream, before the man who she had admired. The man who she now hated. "You destroyed him. You gave him every chance in the world, them ripped them away. You manipulated him. Tell me, did you plan this, or was there a chance he might live? Did you want this, or did you truly believe that you had no choice?" She caught her breath in a half-sob, half-gasp. "Well, you got what you wanted. The world got what it wanted. He saved you, he saved us all, and you want more." She wavered and almost fell. Onlookers were gathering. They ignored them.
The man behind her caught her up in strong arms, his eyes as accusing as hers. "You knew what could have been done--what should have been done. You could have taken action. But you stayed, trusting in yourself so much that you would sacrifice..." His voice trailed off. She took up the tirade.
"Even in our first year, you planned the whole thing. You knew what was going to happen, you knew, and you didn't do anything. Where would you be if he had failed in the beginning? Would you admit that you were mistaken, or would you say that it was Neville all along, that...he was an arrogant child spreading rumors about before he could walk?
"Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. There's your noble, self sacrificing pawn. There's your hero, there's your legend. The world can be happy now." She fumbled at her shirt front, not caring that the badge she wore pierced her finger. "Here's your badge, keep your awards. I'm leaving." He followed her example, wordlessly removing his badge and throwing it next to hers.
The man stood stunned. Here was a girl, a student, an intelligent thing. He was offering her a high reward. And she was throwing it back in his face. This was not right. She was a child, one to be lead as needed. "This is not wise. With what I am offering you, countless opportunities would be opened to you. If you leave now..." he let her think on it. "Of course, you may retract you words, they were hasty, spoken in grief... not binding."
She met his eyes. "I am not one of yours, Albus Dumbledore. I am no pawn, to be moved on your chessboard. I am no sheep, to be herded at your will. I will make opportunities for myself, where I choose. And I do not choose this."
The man supporting her stared at him levelly. "Neither do I. I choose to follow my leader, my brother. My friend."
"Listen to me. Do not speak hastily. If you leave, I shall be shorthanded on heads. You have fulfilled your duties admirably." He turned to the boy, inserted the proper amount of pity into his eyes, and said gently, "Harry Potter is dead. You cannot follow him."
A new person entered the discussion. "He's not as dead as you would like to believe," she said. Leaning on her was a man, barely seventeen, barely standing. Albus kept his face carefully expressionless. "Congratulations, my boy. Few could have survived such a battle." He turned to the others. "As you see, there is no need for you to act so drastically."
"I recommend Blaise Zambini and Daphne Greengrass as the next Heads," the girl--the woman--said calmly. She reached for the others. The second woman took a hand in hers. The men remained as they were, supported and supporting. They vanished, without regret.
A/N Like? Love? Loathe? Review! (Yes corny, but how else am I going to know what you think?) Constructive criticism is appreciated, praise is delightedly devoured, flames are decidedly unappreciated--for Pete's sake, people, if you don't like my fic, tell me why, don't netscream it in a dialect so peppered with cursing that it's hard to see the actual words.
"Are you happy now?" She stood, as if it were a dream, before the man who she had admired. The man who she now hated. "You destroyed him. You gave him every chance in the world, them ripped them away. You manipulated him. Tell me, did you plan this, or was there a chance he might live? Did you want this, or did you truly believe that you had no choice?" She caught her breath in a half-sob, half-gasp. "Well, you got what you wanted. The world got what it wanted. He saved you, he saved us all, and you want more." She wavered and almost fell. Onlookers were gathering. They ignored them.
The man behind her caught her up in strong arms, his eyes as accusing as hers. "You knew what could have been done--what should have been done. You could have taken action. But you stayed, trusting in yourself so much that you would sacrifice..." His voice trailed off. She took up the tirade.
"Even in our first year, you planned the whole thing. You knew what was going to happen, you knew, and you didn't do anything. Where would you be if he had failed in the beginning? Would you admit that you were mistaken, or would you say that it was Neville all along, that...he was an arrogant child spreading rumors about before he could walk?
"Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. There's your noble, self sacrificing pawn. There's your hero, there's your legend. The world can be happy now." She fumbled at her shirt front, not caring that the badge she wore pierced her finger. "Here's your badge, keep your awards. I'm leaving." He followed her example, wordlessly removing his badge and throwing it next to hers.
The man stood stunned. Here was a girl, a student, an intelligent thing. He was offering her a high reward. And she was throwing it back in his face. This was not right. She was a child, one to be lead as needed. "This is not wise. With what I am offering you, countless opportunities would be opened to you. If you leave now..." he let her think on it. "Of course, you may retract you words, they were hasty, spoken in grief... not binding."
She met his eyes. "I am not one of yours, Albus Dumbledore. I am no pawn, to be moved on your chessboard. I am no sheep, to be herded at your will. I will make opportunities for myself, where I choose. And I do not choose this."
The man supporting her stared at him levelly. "Neither do I. I choose to follow my leader, my brother. My friend."
"Listen to me. Do not speak hastily. If you leave, I shall be shorthanded on heads. You have fulfilled your duties admirably." He turned to the boy, inserted the proper amount of pity into his eyes, and said gently, "Harry Potter is dead. You cannot follow him."
A new person entered the discussion. "He's not as dead as you would like to believe," she said. Leaning on her was a man, barely seventeen, barely standing. Albus kept his face carefully expressionless. "Congratulations, my boy. Few could have survived such a battle." He turned to the others. "As you see, there is no need for you to act so drastically."
"I recommend Blaise Zambini and Daphne Greengrass as the next Heads," the girl--the woman--said calmly. She reached for the others. The second woman took a hand in hers. The men remained as they were, supported and supporting. They vanished, without regret.
A/N Like? Love? Loathe? Review! (Yes corny, but how else am I going to know what you think?) Constructive criticism is appreciated, praise is delightedly devoured, flames are decidedly unappreciated--for Pete's sake, people, if you don't like my fic, tell me why, don't netscream it in a dialect so peppered with cursing that it's hard to see the actual words.
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