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nightseer @ : Fic: Spinning GlassTitle: Spinning Glass
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.
Summary: Beauty is a fragile thing.
Author’s Notes: Even though this is from Hermione’s point of view, I wrote this with Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle in mind.
Spinning Glass
The figurine’s spun glass wings were beautiful. Thin lines of glass and soft colors swirled together to make hundreds of patterns within each wing. There was a small gold lion cub…here was a tiny badger…on the right wing tip was a small slithering snake…in the curve of the left wing a spinning leaf…a stack of books in a layer of feathers…a raven taking flight…Without the wings and their patterns, the glass angel would have just been another glass statue.
Hermione leaned closer, studying the magic and care imbued in the fragile wings. She was good at everything, but she didn’t have one thing she loved to do. The person who made this loved crafting with magic; she could see it in the way the wings cradled the angel. Looking closer, she could see the same care had been taken with the angel. At first glance nothing was there, but now she could see the glowing runes etched into the folds of her robes, a faint sparkle in the angel’s cat-like eyes. Hermione couldn’t imagine why the professor had hidden such an amazing thing in this dusty, neglected corner.
The angel was an amazing balance of specialized charms, runes and arithmancy, all pulled together to create this beautiful guardian disguised as a simple figurine. She lifted her hand; she wanted to trace the lines of the robes, figure out why the runes were placed the way they were…
A hand grabbed hers and abruptly pulled her away. Hermione gasped, looking up at her favorite professor in shock.
Professor McGonagall released her hand, none to gently pushing her a little further from the statue. “Miss Granger, I believe you need to leave.”
The dismissal was obvious, Hermione couldn’t remember why she had come here in the first place, but…Her eyes strayed back to the fragile glass angel.
“Miss Granger!”
The bark in Professor McGonagall’s voice made Hermione jump. She gathered her bag and books, racing for the office door and babbling apologies with each step. Professor McGonagall had never used that voice with her before; Harry and Ron, but never her. It hurt to know the Voice could be directed at her.
A whisper of sound made Hermione look back. Professor McGonagall had picked up the angel and was cradling it gently in her hands, a pained expression on her face. The next instant the angel was a thousand pieces of glass on the stone floor.
Hermione ran.
The next time Hermione was in Professor McGonagall’s office, the angel was back in its dusty corner, a new pattern of images in its wings.
The figurine’s spun glass wings were beautiful. Thin lines of glass and soft colors swirled together to make hundreds of patterns within each wing. There was a small gold lion cub…here was a tiny badger…on the right wing tip was a small slithering snake…in the curve of the left wing a spinning leaf…a stack of books in a layer of feathers…a raven taking flight…Without the wings and their patterns, the glass angel would have just been another glass statue.
Hermione leaned closer, studying the magic and care imbued in the fragile wings. She was good at everything, but she didn’t have one thing she loved to do. The person who made this loved crafting with magic; she could see it in the way the wings cradled the angel. Looking closer, she could see the same care had been taken with the angel. At first glance nothing was there, but now she could see the glowing runes etched into the folds of her robes, a faint sparkle in the angel’s cat-like eyes. Hermione couldn’t imagine why the professor had hidden such an amazing thing in this dusty, neglected corner.
The angel was an amazing balance of specialized charms, runes and arithmancy, all pulled together to create this beautiful guardian disguised as a simple figurine. She lifted her hand; she wanted to trace the lines of the robes, figure out why the runes were placed the way they were…
A hand grabbed hers and abruptly pulled her away. Hermione gasped, looking up at her favorite professor in shock.
Professor McGonagall released her hand, none to gently pushing her a little further from the statue. “Miss Granger, I believe you need to leave.”
The dismissal was obvious, Hermione couldn’t remember why she had come here in the first place, but…Her eyes strayed back to the fragile glass angel.
“Miss Granger!”
The bark in Professor McGonagall’s voice made Hermione jump. She gathered her bag and books, racing for the office door and babbling apologies with each step. Professor McGonagall had never used that voice with her before; Harry and Ron, but never her. It hurt to know the Voice could be directed at her.
A whisper of sound made Hermione look back. Professor McGonagall had picked up the angel and was cradling it gently in her hands, a pained expression on her face. The next instant the angel was a thousand pieces of glass on the stone floor.
Hermione ran.
The next time Hermione was in Professor McGonagall’s office, the angel was back in its dusty corner, a new pattern of images in its wings.