Prayers For Naught
Title: Wishing For That Which Will Not Come
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Horace Slughorn, Lily Potter
Pairing: none
Rating: K
Genre: Tragedy
Warnings: death, spoilers for 6th movie
Author’s Note: It's kinda short, but it’s a oneshot. I’m not much into HP fanfiction either. Yet another strange depressing fic. When I saw the movie (every single time) I kept thinking how cool it would've been had there been a flashback showing this scene.
Disclaimer: All characters are copyright to their respective copyright holders.
Summary: Horace looks back on the good old days, wondering when things had gotten so terrible.
“My first wish is to see this plague of mankind, war, banished from the earth.”
-George Washington
Prayers For Naught
Wishing For That Which Will Not Come
Horace strolled comfortably into his classroom. His last class of the day had just left, and he was determined to have a relaxing evening. It was almost the end of the school year once again, and Severus and Lily would both be graduating.
He was a bit concerned for Severus though. He and Lily had been close friends when they entered Hogwarts, but they’d broken apart somewhere around two years ago, and Severus had been rather bitter ever since. So many of the students had made so many terrible mistakes in such a time of war...
But enough about depressing thoughts. Severus would surely be fine.
Lily he would truly miss. She hadn’t only been one of his best students; she’d been a loyal friend and intelligent companion. He’d have to make sure to keep in touch.
Horace walked towards the classroom storeroom, content to check inventory for a while before he retired to his chambers. He wouldn’t bother going to the Great Hall for dinner tonight.
He stopped.
Something on his desk caught his eye. There was a clear glass bowl filled with water that hadn’t been there when he’d walked the class out, saying his goodbyes, and he was sure no one had been in the room since he’d left then. Where did the small bowl come from?
He blinked.
There was a single flower petal floating on the surface of the water, nearly unmoving. It was an orange-gold petal decorated by black spots with some green bleeding from the veins at the end, evidence of slight immaturity. Only the smallest ripples in the water indicated any movement on the petal’s part, but the petal remained in the center of the bowl, almost seeming to glow.
At the lightest touch of his finger to the glass, the water rippled more fiercely and the petal sank underwater, still remaining in the center of the bowl. The very moment the petal touched the bottom of the glass bowl, it sprang back up and began to swim.
It took a while for Horace to realize that the petal had become a fish.
It was a peculiar goldfish, flecked with subtle black spots just like the petal had been, and it had yet to lose its glow.
Horace kept it in his quarters, and when school let out for the summer, he brought it with him. The fish didn’t really need taking care of. It never ate, even when he tried to feed it anything from standard fish food to slices of zucchini, and the water never needed changing.
But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to show it to his classes or any of his students, nor could he bring himself to leave it behind in his quarters for those two summer months he went home.
It was as if he held a life-a soul-in his hands, and he couldn’t just put it down.
Horace knew that he should eat something. He really should. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?
But he’d just seen the paper, dated November 1, 1981.
He’d kept in touch with Lily, of course, just like he knew he had to. But after her son was born, she’d sent him a message that she couldn’t keep contact or be contacted for a while, so he shouldn’t try to send any letters or floo her. He was worried then, mostly because he didn’t know why she was trying to disappear from the face of the earth so suddenly, and he had a feeling that she might be in danger. But he agreed that if that were the case, contact would have to be strictly limited, at the very least, so he’d wished her luck and prayed for the best.
His prayers were for naught.
The Potter’s had been killed, leaving behind their only son, Harry, who had somehow survived a Killing curse.
He just wanted her back.
Horace sighed. Wishing wouldn’t do anything, and the dead could not come back to life. Somehow, he felt empty. He felt emptier than he had when he’d lost any other student or loved one. He would grieve for the Longbottom’s as well. Frank and Alice, while certainly not his best students, had been more than adequate, and he’d cared for them both. They’d left behind their only son, too, even if they hadn’t actually died.
He briefly wondered whether young Harry or Neville was more fortunate.
He wandered around his quarters aimlessly for a while. The headmaster would understand when he didn’t show up for any of his classes, and he just couldn’t stomach seeing all those young people, any of whom could die young, just like his former students did last night. He looked up at the glass bowl with the sensation that something was missing.
The bowl was empty.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Horace Slughorn, Lily Potter
Pairing: none
Rating: K
Genre: Tragedy
Warnings: death, spoilers for 6th movie
Author’s Note: It's kinda short, but it’s a oneshot. I’m not much into HP fanfiction either. Yet another strange depressing fic. When I saw the movie (every single time) I kept thinking how cool it would've been had there been a flashback showing this scene.
Disclaimer: All characters are copyright to their respective copyright holders.
Summary: Horace looks back on the good old days, wondering when things had gotten so terrible.
“My first wish is to see this plague of mankind, war, banished from the earth.”
-George Washington
Prayers For Naught
Wishing For That Which Will Not Come
Horace strolled comfortably into his classroom. His last class of the day had just left, and he was determined to have a relaxing evening. It was almost the end of the school year once again, and Severus and Lily would both be graduating.
He was a bit concerned for Severus though. He and Lily had been close friends when they entered Hogwarts, but they’d broken apart somewhere around two years ago, and Severus had been rather bitter ever since. So many of the students had made so many terrible mistakes in such a time of war...
But enough about depressing thoughts. Severus would surely be fine.
Lily he would truly miss. She hadn’t only been one of his best students; she’d been a loyal friend and intelligent companion. He’d have to make sure to keep in touch.
Horace walked towards the classroom storeroom, content to check inventory for a while before he retired to his chambers. He wouldn’t bother going to the Great Hall for dinner tonight.
He stopped.
Something on his desk caught his eye. There was a clear glass bowl filled with water that hadn’t been there when he’d walked the class out, saying his goodbyes, and he was sure no one had been in the room since he’d left then. Where did the small bowl come from?
He blinked.
There was a single flower petal floating on the surface of the water, nearly unmoving. It was an orange-gold petal decorated by black spots with some green bleeding from the veins at the end, evidence of slight immaturity. Only the smallest ripples in the water indicated any movement on the petal’s part, but the petal remained in the center of the bowl, almost seeming to glow.
At the lightest touch of his finger to the glass, the water rippled more fiercely and the petal sank underwater, still remaining in the center of the bowl. The very moment the petal touched the bottom of the glass bowl, it sprang back up and began to swim.
It took a while for Horace to realize that the petal had become a fish.
It was a peculiar goldfish, flecked with subtle black spots just like the petal had been, and it had yet to lose its glow.
Horace kept it in his quarters, and when school let out for the summer, he brought it with him. The fish didn’t really need taking care of. It never ate, even when he tried to feed it anything from standard fish food to slices of zucchini, and the water never needed changing.
But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to show it to his classes or any of his students, nor could he bring himself to leave it behind in his quarters for those two summer months he went home.
It was as if he held a life-a soul-in his hands, and he couldn’t just put it down.
Horace knew that he should eat something. He really should. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?
But he’d just seen the paper, dated November 1, 1981.
He’d kept in touch with Lily, of course, just like he knew he had to. But after her son was born, she’d sent him a message that she couldn’t keep contact or be contacted for a while, so he shouldn’t try to send any letters or floo her. He was worried then, mostly because he didn’t know why she was trying to disappear from the face of the earth so suddenly, and he had a feeling that she might be in danger. But he agreed that if that were the case, contact would have to be strictly limited, at the very least, so he’d wished her luck and prayed for the best.
His prayers were for naught.
The Potter’s had been killed, leaving behind their only son, Harry, who had somehow survived a Killing curse.
He just wanted her back.
Horace sighed. Wishing wouldn’t do anything, and the dead could not come back to life. Somehow, he felt empty. He felt emptier than he had when he’d lost any other student or loved one. He would grieve for the Longbottom’s as well. Frank and Alice, while certainly not his best students, had been more than adequate, and he’d cared for them both. They’d left behind their only son, too, even if they hadn’t actually died.
He briefly wondered whether young Harry or Neville was more fortunate.
He wandered around his quarters aimlessly for a while. The headmaster would understand when he didn’t show up for any of his classes, and he just couldn’t stomach seeing all those young people, any of whom could die young, just like his former students did last night. He looked up at the glass bowl with the sensation that something was missing.
The bowl was empty.