Title: Clogs of Fate
Author: Athena Keating-Thomas
Chapters (# of Words): One-Shot (450+)
Notes: Humor (or an attempt at it), Snape & Harry Gen, A/U
Feedback: Very welcome and greatly appreciated.
Summary and A/N: In an effort to clear out the cobwebs in my brain, I decided to write up a wee drabble that I've been tossing around for quite some time. This is in response to reviews I received from athenakitty for my story "Innocence and Experience". The reviews usually included variations of a highly amusing question: "Will Harry and Severus pop Voldie's clogs?"
Smoke wafted across the battlefield from an unseen source, eventually dissipating into the not-so-gentle spring breezes. Perhaps it came from beyond the Forbidden Forest which yet stood proudly, inviolate. A shifting of the wind confirmed this to the small group of people who cautiously gathered before the castle, trembling from leftover adrenaline and pain. Bodies littered the grass, mostly of adult size, robed and hooded.
There was a stirring within the group as someone called, "There they are!" Two silhouettes could barely be seen through the shadows from the forest and the thinning smoke. One figure staggered slightly only to be supported by the other long enough to regain its stability once again. Relieved, the group moved to meet them, teachers and Order members carefully picking their way through the human debris.
Coming within hearing distance of the limping duo, the conversation between Harry and Professor Snape could just be heard. Painfully curious considering the history between the two men, everyone remained silent as they continued their approach.
"I thought it was unusual," Harry commented, wincing as he tried to stretch his back and walk at the same time.
"You have to consider the era during which he was at the height of his power," Snape replied, his voice hoarse as though from screaming. "They were hardly unusual back then. And there is much to be said for sympathetic magic; surrounding oneself with objects that make one recall past power can contribute to increasing one's current power."
"I still think it was odd." The smirk on Harry's face managed to show clearly through the cuts and bruises. "The... pants. And especially the shoes."
"Clogs," Snape corrected, tugging at his ragged robes. "They're called clogs. They were customarily made from wooden soles in their time. You in your accidental wisdom made them expand and explode like balloons. Voldemort's access to the sympathetic magic drained like water through an unblocked pipe. His demise afterward was only a matter of time and effort."
Unable to restrain himself, Harry giggled, "I popped Voldie's clogs, and his magic went down the drain."