Fanfiction - Coward
Title: Coward
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Zacharias and Mr Smith
Prompt: Choices
Word Count: 1032
Rating: PG
Summary: Zacharias Smith ran from the battle, and he regrets nothing.
Author’s Notes: This is set during Book Seven, so there are small spoilers. Very small, though.
Few matters made sense to them and they wanted little more than the warmth of human comfort. Brothers and sisters were cuddling their siblings while all the time keeping their eyes out for any of their parents. Time had ticked by; no one knew what was happening around them. Every so often, the ground would seem to rumble and the weak hearted would shriek and jump around the room.
Their stares did not go unnoticed. They were frightened, desperate, and cold. Some cast the passing of hatred and despair, stares of judgment.
Zacharias Smith did not give expression, no scowls or buried brows of disdain. For one who was infamous for his ruthless retorts, silence was something he wanted to uphold for the time. Suddenly, it wasn’t worth it anymore. Back in the halls of the brilliant castle, people were dying. People were losing their lives in Harry Potter’s war.
His mouth line fell as he thought about it, and he had done little else but keep his mind on the subject from the moment his feet had stepped outside the stone grounds. Harry Potter’s war. That is what it was. All of those who were going to stay and fight were willing to give their lives to help the wizarding world’s favorite hero. Zacharias Smith knew better. He was no Gryffindor, and the furious faces of his fellow sixth years bearing red patches kept reminding him of that. He was not brave, and he never pretended to be. What good did courage serve him other than give the delusion that his life was so expendable?
Shame was for fools, and Zacharias Smith was not a fool.
No one would have cried if they found his body after falling against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not the huddled lot of upset students before him. Not Dumbledore’s Army. At this point, he was uncertain if even his housemates would care.
He tried to ignore the gripping twine crushing his gut as he could rehear Ernie’s speech about making the right choice. Hannah always stood by his side, and Macmillan’s words had a way of attracting Susan and Justin. They felt they all had to compensate for what they had lost.
Zacharias was the only one immune, the only one of them who could see that this was not their battle to fight. Dumbledore’s Army was nothing more than a place where he could gather the knowledge of spells that the professors refused to teach. Ernie Macmillan never dropped his assumption that the Army was actually preparing them to face dark wizards. Macmillan was off his rocker, and the others were nutters for listening.
They made their decision, to be prats like the rest of them. Their choice. Their lives.
So why did the feeling in his gut not come to a close.
A first year brushed passed him with surplus force, and he could see more parents had arrived to retrieve their children from what could scarcely be called the safe haven. Some would bring word of the battle; some spoke of the dying, others spoke of hope and the chances of victory. Most remained as silent as their sons and daughters and escorted them quickly away. Few kind words, but never harsh tones.
Impatience claimed a few of the older students. They had decided to step out and muster up the courage to protect their school, to align themselves with Harry Potter. Mostly courageous little Gryffindors and their lapdogs from the other Houses. It only surprised Zacharias when a group of the Slytherins decided to suddenly be brave and follow the lions back into battle. He noticed the glances he received from them, the pleading and he recognized that they wanted an experienced student to join them. He jeered them off. What would they do if they came across a Death Eater? Wave their wands and cast cute little charms?
It had not saved Cedric Diggory.
It did not even spare Headmaster Dumbledore, and they could not fool themselves into believing the greatest wizard of their time fell to an incompetent team serving an inept lord.
So he let them glare. He let them venture out to find their parents, or to return back to the castle. It was not his problem. It never was to begin with. What did anyone expect of him? Stand and fight, better to die on the battlefield than live a coward? Would he have raised his wand and cast off some silly Expelliarmus against some of the darkest wizards and witches history had witnessed? Was he to see green approach before forever casting a look of horror? Was he to lie dead and just be another casualty in a war that was not his fault?
Zacharias Smith could live with being a coward.
Let Ernie Macmillan be the hero for Hufflepuff.
His attention returned to the present only when one of his housemates pushed passed him to reach his parents. Zacharias barely registered that another assembly had arrived to save selected children until the corners of his eyes traced a familiar form.
“Zacharias.”
His father had aged. He blinked to be sure, hoping the man in front of his face was indeed the one he had known as his father. His skin was hallowed and pallid, his hair shined gray. Where was the parent he had left behind? No, this was his father. The stern jaw and locked eyes were features that would never falter with time.
“Do you expect me to apologise?” He straightened his back to face his father at full height. He was not a child anymore. “Because I am not sorry for what I did.” How could he explain to his father how much he had felt in the past year, help him understand that he had just wanted to live?
Heavy hands shook on his shoulders. Zacharias expected the retort to follow, but such callous words were never received. His father pulled him closer, entrapping his arms around his son in an embrace Zacharias could not recognise. He found himself too dumbfounded to react, too stricken with surprise to respond. The only sense that registered was the sight of dampness forming around his father’s eyes.
--
I put Zacharias in Ginny’s year, in case you are wondering why the sixth years recognize him. He wasn’t in the sorting in Book One, and Harry’s never mentioned him beforehand as being in any of his classes. I've read several fanfictions that give Smith a nobler reason for running. I always just assumed he ran for self-preservation. He's always been a bit of a wimp.
It's the first of the HPFanfic100 challenge. After completeing 100 Cedric Diggory icons, I figured what the hell. I'll see how many Smith fanfictions I have in me.
I apologize for any blatant Americanisms. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Zacharias and Mr Smith
Prompt: Choices
Word Count: 1032
Rating: PG
Summary: Zacharias Smith ran from the battle, and he regrets nothing.
Author’s Notes: This is set during Book Seven, so there are small spoilers. Very small, though.
Few matters made sense to them and they wanted little more than the warmth of human comfort. Brothers and sisters were cuddling their siblings while all the time keeping their eyes out for any of their parents. Time had ticked by; no one knew what was happening around them. Every so often, the ground would seem to rumble and the weak hearted would shriek and jump around the room.
Their stares did not go unnoticed. They were frightened, desperate, and cold. Some cast the passing of hatred and despair, stares of judgment.
Zacharias Smith did not give expression, no scowls or buried brows of disdain. For one who was infamous for his ruthless retorts, silence was something he wanted to uphold for the time. Suddenly, it wasn’t worth it anymore. Back in the halls of the brilliant castle, people were dying. People were losing their lives in Harry Potter’s war.
His mouth line fell as he thought about it, and he had done little else but keep his mind on the subject from the moment his feet had stepped outside the stone grounds. Harry Potter’s war. That is what it was. All of those who were going to stay and fight were willing to give their lives to help the wizarding world’s favorite hero. Zacharias Smith knew better. He was no Gryffindor, and the furious faces of his fellow sixth years bearing red patches kept reminding him of that. He was not brave, and he never pretended to be. What good did courage serve him other than give the delusion that his life was so expendable?
Shame was for fools, and Zacharias Smith was not a fool.
No one would have cried if they found his body after falling against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not the huddled lot of upset students before him. Not Dumbledore’s Army. At this point, he was uncertain if even his housemates would care.
He tried to ignore the gripping twine crushing his gut as he could rehear Ernie’s speech about making the right choice. Hannah always stood by his side, and Macmillan’s words had a way of attracting Susan and Justin. They felt they all had to compensate for what they had lost.
Zacharias was the only one immune, the only one of them who could see that this was not their battle to fight. Dumbledore’s Army was nothing more than a place where he could gather the knowledge of spells that the professors refused to teach. Ernie Macmillan never dropped his assumption that the Army was actually preparing them to face dark wizards. Macmillan was off his rocker, and the others were nutters for listening.
They made their decision, to be prats like the rest of them. Their choice. Their lives.
So why did the feeling in his gut not come to a close.
A first year brushed passed him with surplus force, and he could see more parents had arrived to retrieve their children from what could scarcely be called the safe haven. Some would bring word of the battle; some spoke of the dying, others spoke of hope and the chances of victory. Most remained as silent as their sons and daughters and escorted them quickly away. Few kind words, but never harsh tones.
Impatience claimed a few of the older students. They had decided to step out and muster up the courage to protect their school, to align themselves with Harry Potter. Mostly courageous little Gryffindors and their lapdogs from the other Houses. It only surprised Zacharias when a group of the Slytherins decided to suddenly be brave and follow the lions back into battle. He noticed the glances he received from them, the pleading and he recognized that they wanted an experienced student to join them. He jeered them off. What would they do if they came across a Death Eater? Wave their wands and cast cute little charms?
It had not saved Cedric Diggory.
It did not even spare Headmaster Dumbledore, and they could not fool themselves into believing the greatest wizard of their time fell to an incompetent team serving an inept lord.
So he let them glare. He let them venture out to find their parents, or to return back to the castle. It was not his problem. It never was to begin with. What did anyone expect of him? Stand and fight, better to die on the battlefield than live a coward? Would he have raised his wand and cast off some silly Expelliarmus against some of the darkest wizards and witches history had witnessed? Was he to see green approach before forever casting a look of horror? Was he to lie dead and just be another casualty in a war that was not his fault?
Zacharias Smith could live with being a coward.
Let Ernie Macmillan be the hero for Hufflepuff.
His attention returned to the present only when one of his housemates pushed passed him to reach his parents. Zacharias barely registered that another assembly had arrived to save selected children until the corners of his eyes traced a familiar form.
“Zacharias.”
His father had aged. He blinked to be sure, hoping the man in front of his face was indeed the one he had known as his father. His skin was hallowed and pallid, his hair shined gray. Where was the parent he had left behind? No, this was his father. The stern jaw and locked eyes were features that would never falter with time.
“Do you expect me to apologise?” He straightened his back to face his father at full height. He was not a child anymore. “Because I am not sorry for what I did.” How could he explain to his father how much he had felt in the past year, help him understand that he had just wanted to live?
Heavy hands shook on his shoulders. Zacharias expected the retort to follow, but such callous words were never received. His father pulled him closer, entrapping his arms around his son in an embrace Zacharias could not recognise. He found himself too dumbfounded to react, too stricken with surprise to respond. The only sense that registered was the sight of dampness forming around his father’s eyes.
--
I put Zacharias in Ginny’s year, in case you are wondering why the sixth years recognize him. He wasn’t in the sorting in Book One, and Harry’s never mentioned him beforehand as being in any of his classes. I've read several fanfictions that give Smith a nobler reason for running. I always just assumed he ran for self-preservation. He's always been a bit of a wimp.
It's the first of the HPFanfic100 challenge. After completeing 100 Cedric Diggory icons, I figured what the hell. I'll see how many Smith fanfictions I have in me.
I apologize for any blatant Americanisms. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.