Final Girl
Dec. 1st, 2006 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teleidoplexTitle: Final Girl
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter/Buffy Crossover
Pairing: N/A
Summary: Voldemort should have watched more horror films
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Harry Potter. That's Joss and J.K. respectively.
Archive: At Twisting the Hellmouth. If you want it, check with me first.
Author’s Note: The Final Girl is a horror movie trope first identified by Carol Clover in Men, Women and Chainsaws. In horror movies she is often the focal character, the last one standing who finds the courage/strength to confront the killer, and usually the only survivor to pass on the story. Famous Final Girls include Nancy Thompson, Laurie Strode, Ellen Ripley and Sidney Prescott.
Hermione Granger was running. Branches slashed across her face, roots rose up to trip her, trees appeared suddenly from the mist, forcing her to scramble out of the way. The Forbidden Forest had never been so forbidding. She could hear Voldemort stalking behind her, hissing orders to his Death Eaters that she was his to take care of – the last of the Order still standing. The last symbol of resistance.
She toppled to the ground as yet another tree root caught at her. Struggling to rise again, she felt a sharp pain shoot up her leg and cried out in spite of herself. A hiss came from the trees behind her as Voldemort heard her and began closing in. Desperate, she grabbed a sturdy length of deadwood for support, forcing herself to continue in spite of the pain.
It was hard to run with her twisted ankle, even harder to do so quietly. She crested a rise and realized that it was hollow underneath – a huge tree root lipping over a tiny pocket of darkness. She scurried into the hollow, swallowing her panting sobs. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t even see the point. She had no wand, she was wounded, and all her friends…
Dead. They’re all dead, she thought. Voldemort had won. The final gamble, the attempted destruction of the final horcrux, had ended up being their last mistake. Voldemort was unkillable, he was coming after her, and the only weapon she had was a stick she’d picked up off the forest floor.
She could hear him shuffling somewhere above her, and she crouched back further into the darkness. Closing her eyes, she huddled in on herself and prayed he wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t hear her, wouldn’t sense her.
Slowly, she felt something else join her in the darkness. It started as a bare glimmer, but quickly expanded to fill the entire area. It was power – raw power, vast and frightening in its potential. Somehow, she could sense that the power was reaching out to her; It was hers for the taking if she chose it. The power was tinged with darkness, but also held light. So much light. It seemed to flood the forest around her, although she knew this must be subjective since as far as she could tell, neither Voldemort nor his Death Eaters were reacting. She didn’t know the source of the power, and all the caution that had been drilled into her throughout her years at Hogwarts came to the fore. Accepting this anonymous gift might be more dangerous, more deadly, than anything Voldemort would do to her. She dithered for a moment, then it seemed that she heard a woman’s voice, as from a very long distance.
Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?
Features settling into grim determination, Hermione reached out with her soul to embrace the potential power. She felt it flooding her, lifting her, healing her, steadying her.
With new strength and purpose, she tightened her grip around her makeshift wooden weapon and stepped around the tree to face her nemesis. He was about to be very, very sorry that he’d killed her friends.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter/Buffy Crossover
Pairing: N/A
Summary: Voldemort should have watched more horror films
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Harry Potter. That's Joss and J.K. respectively.
Archive: At Twisting the Hellmouth. If you want it, check with me first.
Author’s Note: The Final Girl is a horror movie trope first identified by Carol Clover in Men, Women and Chainsaws. In horror movies she is often the focal character, the last one standing who finds the courage/strength to confront the killer, and usually the only survivor to pass on the story. Famous Final Girls include Nancy Thompson, Laurie Strode, Ellen Ripley and Sidney Prescott.
Hermione Granger was running. Branches slashed across her face, roots rose up to trip her, trees appeared suddenly from the mist, forcing her to scramble out of the way. The Forbidden Forest had never been so forbidding. She could hear Voldemort stalking behind her, hissing orders to his Death Eaters that she was his to take care of – the last of the Order still standing. The last symbol of resistance.
She toppled to the ground as yet another tree root caught at her. Struggling to rise again, she felt a sharp pain shoot up her leg and cried out in spite of herself. A hiss came from the trees behind her as Voldemort heard her and began closing in. Desperate, she grabbed a sturdy length of deadwood for support, forcing herself to continue in spite of the pain.
It was hard to run with her twisted ankle, even harder to do so quietly. She crested a rise and realized that it was hollow underneath – a huge tree root lipping over a tiny pocket of darkness. She scurried into the hollow, swallowing her panting sobs. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t even see the point. She had no wand, she was wounded, and all her friends…
Dead. They’re all dead, she thought. Voldemort had won. The final gamble, the attempted destruction of the final horcrux, had ended up being their last mistake. Voldemort was unkillable, he was coming after her, and the only weapon she had was a stick she’d picked up off the forest floor.
She could hear him shuffling somewhere above her, and she crouched back further into the darkness. Closing her eyes, she huddled in on herself and prayed he wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t hear her, wouldn’t sense her.
Slowly, she felt something else join her in the darkness. It started as a bare glimmer, but quickly expanded to fill the entire area. It was power – raw power, vast and frightening in its potential. Somehow, she could sense that the power was reaching out to her; It was hers for the taking if she chose it. The power was tinged with darkness, but also held light. So much light. It seemed to flood the forest around her, although she knew this must be subjective since as far as she could tell, neither Voldemort nor his Death Eaters were reacting. She didn’t know the source of the power, and all the caution that had been drilled into her throughout her years at Hogwarts came to the fore. Accepting this anonymous gift might be more dangerous, more deadly, than anything Voldemort would do to her. She dithered for a moment, then it seemed that she heard a woman’s voice, as from a very long distance.
Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?
Features settling into grim determination, Hermione reached out with her soul to embrace the potential power. She felt it flooding her, lifting her, healing her, steadying her.
With new strength and purpose, she tightened her grip around her makeshift wooden weapon and stepped around the tree to face her nemesis. He was about to be very, very sorry that he’d killed her friends.
