![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timepiececlockHP thing. Is it a ficlet? Is it a prologue?
Who knows? I don't. Normally I'm not this wordy. I swear.
******************************
Thicken
A Harry Potter 6th Year Prologue
******************************
It wasn't that they began the year as friends, thick as thieves in the night or any such rubbish. They didn't step off the train in a single-file chain and immediately bunch together like a six-pack of muggle soda pop. Rather, they drifted out in a haphazard straggle, unrecognizable as anything special or marked when so scattered amongst their peers.
Hermione went first, feet landing on the ancient porous stone of the train platform, her badge of power glittering as if it contained something effervescent all its own beyond the perfunctory labels of responsible, leader, and clever. Her face bore her same modest and kindly approachability, but the badge clung to her robes, cast the glow of a strong woman out onto their open faces, and whispered worthy to anyone who dared look.
Ron and Harry came next, cut off from their long-time companion by a pack of third-year boys and pair of maternal twin girls from seventh. Ron's eyes were aprehensive, but his smile shined as classmates noticed that he, as well, carried the glowing mark of prefect for another year. A fine young sport he's turned out to be, the adults had whispered, the professors knew what they were about when they gave him the badge. Beside him Potter walked a little more carefully, head held high and gaze meeting any that challenged him. To most he stood not so different as before: taller and broader perhaps, with eyes closer to malachite than the vibrant spring remembered. And maybe his shoulders looked a bit tighter despite the growth, his step a bit harder despite the nonchalance of his expression. Was it only side by side, in the light of the that first grey morning that the contrast became intense enough to echo in the very backs of their thoughts? Was it only the bland sameness of all the new arrivals that made, for the first noticable time in their collective memory, it Harry who looked tough, and Ron who looked noble?
A few minutes after the golden pair strode from the train toward the carriages, the strawberry and pumpkin head of Virginia Weasely wove through the crowd, summoning her classmates with a few enthusiastic waves and a brilliant smile. The baby girl of the Weasely pack stood tall, bones and body catching up as her 15 year old figure raced headlong into maturity. The runt of the wizardng litter could now command every eye she passed, and with joyous pride she did so. Look at me, her laughter said, All the money in the world can't buy what I'm becoming.
Across the station Hagrid's voice boomed, calling for students to take their places for the carriages. The Hogwarts carriages themselves were loaded near to the brim with bodies and luggage as the final students made their way across the platform, dragging cases and trunks with bemused expressions. Luna Lovegood re-adjusted her wand behind her ear, and turned to smile faintly at her companion in the dregs. Neville, who walked a little slower to accomadate for his weighty trunk, smiled back with confidence near seeping from his ears. The nightmare that had remained in the forefront of their minds since the previous spring had left its mark most notably on the Longbottom boy, and every gesture he made said proudly, I am all grown up now. I went to battle with Harry Potter, and nothing you can do can hurt me, this day or any after. His new wand of cedar around baleen rustled in his pocket as he walked, gaze forward.
The quiet and serene Luna was study in comparison: she look and spoke exactly the same, opaline eyes never wavering as she absorbed everything in the immediately area. How could she seem so normal? It was a a question that begged answering, to those who had read enough newspapers over the summer to know to ask it. Had she even been at the Ministry of Magic at all, or was it just a rumor too outrageous to be true? Had this strange little thing truly rescued the vibrant and swift Ginny Weasely? Impossible, the others whispered. A generous lie, embellished to give even the tag-along a good part. They'd sat in classes with her for years, and this girl was neither warrior nor hero.
The carriages were filled; the students were packed away and all the heroes out of sight. Tomorrow another year at Hogwarts began, in all its terror and mystery.
******************************
Who knows? I don't. Normally I'm not this wordy. I swear.
******************************
Thicken
A Harry Potter 6th Year Prologue
******************************
It wasn't that they began the year as friends, thick as thieves in the night or any such rubbish. They didn't step off the train in a single-file chain and immediately bunch together like a six-pack of muggle soda pop. Rather, they drifted out in a haphazard straggle, unrecognizable as anything special or marked when so scattered amongst their peers.
Hermione went first, feet landing on the ancient porous stone of the train platform, her badge of power glittering as if it contained something effervescent all its own beyond the perfunctory labels of responsible, leader, and clever. Her face bore her same modest and kindly approachability, but the badge clung to her robes, cast the glow of a strong woman out onto their open faces, and whispered worthy to anyone who dared look.
Ron and Harry came next, cut off from their long-time companion by a pack of third-year boys and pair of maternal twin girls from seventh. Ron's eyes were aprehensive, but his smile shined as classmates noticed that he, as well, carried the glowing mark of prefect for another year. A fine young sport he's turned out to be, the adults had whispered, the professors knew what they were about when they gave him the badge. Beside him Potter walked a little more carefully, head held high and gaze meeting any that challenged him. To most he stood not so different as before: taller and broader perhaps, with eyes closer to malachite than the vibrant spring remembered. And maybe his shoulders looked a bit tighter despite the growth, his step a bit harder despite the nonchalance of his expression. Was it only side by side, in the light of the that first grey morning that the contrast became intense enough to echo in the very backs of their thoughts? Was it only the bland sameness of all the new arrivals that made, for the first noticable time in their collective memory, it Harry who looked tough, and Ron who looked noble?
A few minutes after the golden pair strode from the train toward the carriages, the strawberry and pumpkin head of Virginia Weasely wove through the crowd, summoning her classmates with a few enthusiastic waves and a brilliant smile. The baby girl of the Weasely pack stood tall, bones and body catching up as her 15 year old figure raced headlong into maturity. The runt of the wizardng litter could now command every eye she passed, and with joyous pride she did so. Look at me, her laughter said, All the money in the world can't buy what I'm becoming.
Across the station Hagrid's voice boomed, calling for students to take their places for the carriages. The Hogwarts carriages themselves were loaded near to the brim with bodies and luggage as the final students made their way across the platform, dragging cases and trunks with bemused expressions. Luna Lovegood re-adjusted her wand behind her ear, and turned to smile faintly at her companion in the dregs. Neville, who walked a little slower to accomadate for his weighty trunk, smiled back with confidence near seeping from his ears. The nightmare that had remained in the forefront of their minds since the previous spring had left its mark most notably on the Longbottom boy, and every gesture he made said proudly, I am all grown up now. I went to battle with Harry Potter, and nothing you can do can hurt me, this day or any after. His new wand of cedar around baleen rustled in his pocket as he walked, gaze forward.
The quiet and serene Luna was study in comparison: she look and spoke exactly the same, opaline eyes never wavering as she absorbed everything in the immediately area. How could she seem so normal? It was a a question that begged answering, to those who had read enough newspapers over the summer to know to ask it. Had she even been at the Ministry of Magic at all, or was it just a rumor too outrageous to be true? Had this strange little thing truly rescued the vibrant and swift Ginny Weasely? Impossible, the others whispered. A generous lie, embellished to give even the tag-along a good part. They'd sat in classes with her for years, and this girl was neither warrior nor hero.
The carriages were filled; the students were packed away and all the heroes out of sight. Tomorrow another year at Hogwarts began, in all its terror and mystery.
******************************
