Another fanfic I wrote based off of my favourite line that was in the movies but not in the books.
Weakness
You're the weak one. You've never known love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for you.
The Dark wizard paced up and down the long room, his followers standing back against the ornate walls watching him. He could feel their fear, fear of him, but he ignored them. How dare the boy? How dare he feel sorry for him? It was ridiculous that the child he had orphaned would pity him. As if he were a pitiable figure! He was the greatest wizard alive, and he would soon prove it to all, muggle and wizard alike.
But how had the boy fought him off? No, it couldn't have been the boy; it had to have been a trick. It must have been Dumbledore. The old man was smarter than he looked; he always had been. There was no way a mere child could have forced the Dark Lord out of his head and caused such pain to the invader. At the memory of the agony that possession of the boy had caused him, Voldemort paused and flung out his wand hand at random, casting the cruciatus curse on one of his Death Eaters, inconsiderate of which one he struck. Momentarily distracted from his fury, he watched the masked man convulse in pain.
Call me weak, will you, Harry Potter? He fumed silently. I'll show you. Everything you've been through up until now will seem like a stroll through your puerile Honeydukes compared to what's coming. You will lose everything. And perhaps now was the time to get rid of a certain meddlesome headmaster as well. Voldemort smiled at his followers. Who needed friendship with such devoted slaves? "Lucius," the cold high voice said, "you have a son, don't you? A son who attends Hogwarts?"
I also write fanfiction. Here's an example of something set in the Harry Potter universe:
Never Look Back
Molly Weasley was on her knees scrubbing at the carpet in the living room. In the kitchen, on the stove, a pot of soup was bubbling madly. As it began to boil over, she sat up and pointed her wand at it, lowering the heat enough to stop the imminent mess. Impatiently pushing her hair out of her face, she bent over the spot once more.
"Molly?" a voice behind her said quietly.
She jumped, and put her hand over her heart. "Oh, Arthur, you scared me!"
He knelt beside her and put a hand on her arm. "What are you doing, dear?"
She leaned forward and began scrubbing again. "It's so hard to get blood out of a carpet! I never should have let it dry." Her voice broke.
"Molly." Arthur caught her hand, and turned her to face him. Tears were streaming down her face.
"Oh, Arthur, I'm so scared for them! Why did I let George go like that? And he's probably not the only one that will be hurt, and what will I do if – if –" She broke off with a choked sob. "What if –"
"Sshhh." Arthur pulled her into his arms, and gently rubbed her back as she wept into his shoulder. "George was proud to help Harry, Molly."
"I know, I know. And I would never want Harry hurt, either!" Molly pulled back slightly, and looked up into her husband's eyes. "I wish this stupid war would end! I want all my babies safe."
Arthur wiped the tears from her face with his fingertips. "We all have to do what we can to stop him, dear. For Harry and our boys, that means they'll be in danger, and there's nothing we can do about it."
"I just wish –" Molly cut herself off and straightened her shoulders. "No. No point in wishing. You're right, of course, Arthur. We must do what we can do, and stop worrying at what we can't do anything about." She smiled tremulously at him. "Never look back," she whispered.
Arthur took her hand, and helped her to her feet, and they stood for a moment, wrapped in each others' arms.
