Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters here. I don't own the music either, but I do feel rather protecting of the specific combination, so at least ask me if you want to use it.
If I Ever Lose My Faith In You
I could be lost inside their lies without a trace
But every time I close my eyes I see your face
I never saw no miracle of science
That didn't go from a blessing to a curse
I never saw no military solution
That didn't always end up as something worse but
Let me say this first
If I ever lose my faith in you
There'd be nothing left for me to do
- Sting
Colin Creevey sighed, opening the Daily Prophet across his lap. He hadn't been able to do more than glance at the front headlines that morning at breakfast. Hermione and several of the Weasleys had seen it and started sending him death glares, which made him feel awkward enough to guiltily fold it up and tuck it in his school bag. But here, with the curtains drawn around his four-poster, he would be unnoticed.
He had known all summer that there was something missing from the paper. Harry had talked about Voldemort at the end of last term, and didn't that mean anything to them? Voldemort coming back? He hadn't been there the first time around of course, but he had heard enough in the mutters of the older students to know that it had been really dreadful. And all the things they were saying about Harry and Professor Dumbledore, he didn't half understand the politics of what Dumbledore was doing, but there had to be something going on about it all.
And now that evil-looking Umbridge woman was there teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts class that didn't seem to do anything, and there seemed to be Slytherins plotting in every corner, and all these new educational decrees, the Ministry sticking their hand in where he didn't think it was supposed to be. There was definitely something awry.
And what to do, he thought again, about that meeting Ginny had mentioned for the next Hogsmeade weekend? He planned to go, of course, but ought he, really? Was it really safe for a Muggle born to be so definitively playing his hand? Since he had stopped shoving his camera up everyone's noses, they hardly noticed if he were there or not. Surely Voldemort's followers, if they really were revived, wouldn't pay any attention to him, and he'd be fine without the extra defensive training.
But one glance to the photo frames on his window brought him back to reality. A still of his family, before he left, and his first mover, of Harry. Harry Potter, the savior of the world. Harry Potter, who had killed the basilisk, who had saved him and Ginny. Harry Potter, who knew about all there was to know about defending one's self, and wasn't that how he had convinced his parents to let him come there in the first place? There were all those werewolves and vampires and hags and things in the world that people needed protection from? Even more, as he had seen since he got here, all those prejudices and wrongdoings that needed to be stopped? He wouldn't be where he was if it hadn't been for Harry, he remembered. So whatever cliff I may be jumping off, I'm just going to have to trust him.
A/N: I will try to do regular-ish updates for this one. I have a clear muse and should have enough time to write a bit the next few days. I think all of the stories are within OotP, but we may go a touch off canon. Write if there is anything you want me to clean up a bit, or anything you particularly like about these. I doubt they'll all be as soliloquied as this, but we'll have to see.