It broke my heart. The little girl, Jo, was so happy. She ran up on the stage, waved at the crowed producing a laugh from everyone. I had been just like her...before...I wondered when she would break. As the crowd laughed at her childish gesture I looked on her in sadness. She was a happy child, full of good humer. It was a pity she would be slowly killed. Not in body of course. They needed her gift. But she would never again be able to use her gift of her own will. It would be chained to that slow lonely song to be sung each year, at the gathering the crowd looks upon you with respect. You are the singer. A highly important part of this world. It was your job to keep history alive. If only they knew...that your own spirited ways had died a long time ago. It would be the same for this child, practice day and night. Locked in a lonely room. I wonder if she will try and ran away? Like I once did. Did I want her to try? It did not turn out good for me. I look down at my chains wrapped around my ankles, cutting into them, bleeding. This was what happens when the singer tries to run away. I was but a tyke when I came. Parents gone, having died of illness. I was sent to live there, at that ancient building. Locked behind those walls for months, alone. Then the first gathering. I was introduced as “The future singer” just like this girl had been. Then I was pushed back into the shadows not to be seen again, but once a year at that famous meeting.
The Harry Potter FanFiction Guild
