Reader Participation
So some of my friends did this a while ago -- ALAS, l wasn't online when I could've requested-- but I wanted to do it too, and now that I don't have two term papers due, I can.
Drabble Request Meme! The first ten people who give me a prompt + character and/or pairing , I will write them a drabble. I have a lot of fandoms, and I'll write ( Read more... )
Drabble Request Meme! The first ten people who give me a prompt + character and/or pairing , I will write them a drabble. I have a lot of fandoms, and I'll write ( Read more... )
Harry feels the Stone fall into his pocket with a satisfying thump, relief spinning from his ribs to his toes. On the floor behind him Professor Quirrell is lying down dead, his two faces crowned with a bloom of tattered white cloth. When Harry turns, though, there are eyes to meet him.
"Hello, hello," the strange man says, pitter patter, pitter patter. He is covered head to toe with unsympathetic colors, like something out of an old engraving. "I am called Lezard Valeth. I expect you don't know me," he continues, adjusting his glasses. "But somewhere, someone will."
"It's, er, nice to meet you, Mr. Valeth," Harry stammers. "But I was just about to leave, actually."
"I know you have the Stone. If you hand it over, I won't have to take it."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," he replies, wand at the ready.
"No, I expect you haven't. But rest assured, you do have it. I performed a very tricky inversion of the twenty-third Rune, and it led me straight here."
"Well," Harry says, "I'm not giving it up."
"They've probably told you that it grants immortality and turns iron into gold. But deep down it is something else entirely-- a map to wherever it is you care to go." He is very young, Harry realizes, not much older than Percy.
He makes a dash for it, calling out a curse while running towards the exit, but Lezard just laughs. The magic bounces off him, rather like one of Professor Binns' lectures. Then he raises one hand and speaks something low and wicked. Diamonds fly around him, kissing the air with starlight. There is a lady pale with frost, and Harry cannot move his legs, his arms, his eyes, or anything at all.
"Don't worry," says Lezard, while he fumbles through Harry's frozen pockets. "I'll be good."
---
Harry wakes up in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey looking on with unpleasant, scissor-like things in her hand. His left leg is in traction; he can't quite wiggle his toes.
"Harry!" cries Ron. "You're awake!"
"Yeah," says Harry, blinking. "I suppose I am."
Hermione looks out of breath. "We were so worried. You could have been killed!"
"I'm alright. My mouth tastes a bit like mothballs, but alright."
"And the Philosopher's Stone? Did you find it?"
"Yeah, I guess I did." Harry rubs at his glasses; they feel strange upon his face. "It's gone now, though. There was. And he." Anxiously, he moves his mouth, feeling the saliva curl, but no words come. It is as though the name has been burned from his tongue. "The Stone's gone."
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