A warning to the people
The good and the evil
This is war

'HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS' 'In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is once more active.'...

This was the story that witches and wizards across Britain faced on that warm July morning. A time for fun and laughter in the summer sunshine now seemed a distance memory. Sure, some of the younger generations, who were too young to remember, did not understand the magnitude of that message, but all too few others knew what it really meant.

*

Remus Lupin placed the newspaper relatively calmly down on the table in front of him. As the papers settled upon the dark stained wood, his elbows thudded against it also. His head fell forward as his hands ran through his hair, gripping the last dregs at the back of his head in frustration. He had been here before. Most of those he cared about had been here before. The lump that formed in his throat the first time he faced the war, was nothing in comparison to that of the one choking him as he finally succumbs and sobs. Soft hands grasp his shoulders and wisps of dark brunette locks brush his head as a honey-like scent floated through the air on her breath.

"We can do this, Remus. We can make it."

"We have to, Dora. I can't lose you."

*

To the soldier, the civilian
The martyr, the victim
This is war

Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed dejectedly as he watched his children sleep. At their tender ages, they could not possibly comprehend what was to come. No one should ever have to face this, but now they would. As his chest fell and rose rhythmically, Kingsley eagerly watched his son enjoy the peace of sleep, wishing the boy could remain in that child-like wonder along with his sister. Lifting himself from leaning against the door frame, Kingsley closes the door gently before moving to the living room where he had left his wife to ponder her own thoughts in the wake of the recent news. Her eyes were red and breathing laboured, and for one brief moment they shared a knowing look that was broken by the wisps of a forthcoming patronus. A tabby cat formed from the wisps of silver smoke and spoke with the voice of Minerva McGonagall.

"Kingsley, Albus has called an emergency meeting of the Order. Please hurry."

As the smoke disappeared, the knowing look was shared once again by the pair. As a solider of the war, be it Auror or Order member, he knew his place, and as his wife, the civilian, she knew it was her place to stay at home and worry. No words were shared between the two as he retreated to his bedroom to ready himself. The house was silent except for the whisper of a desperate woman.

"Please come home to me safely."

*

It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight

Wizards and witches up and down the country now had a choice to make. The truth of a person's courage emerges, where they can choose to fight or remain in the shadows. As people scoffed and disregarded the headlines, lying was all they could do to hold their selves together. People would now have to choose whether or not to put their lives on the line; whether they would live or die for what they believed in. They now had to choose what action to take when it became the moment to fight.

*

To the right, to the left
We will fight to the death
To the Edge of the Earth
It's a brave new world from the last to the first

To the right, to the left
We will fight to the death
To the Edge of the Earth
It's a brave new world
It's a brave new world

For Hermione Granger, no answer was as simple. Her heritage alone meant that she would not be safe. All those like her would not be safe either and despite that all she could think of, was that her family would be okay. She had heard of times during the first war that muggle-borns had tried to protect their homes yet they failed and their muggle families were killed as well. She could not bear the thought of that happening to the people she loved, but she would fight to the death for them. As she contemplated what the war meant for the defenceless muggle world, she realised that the people she feared for most, besides her family, were Ron and Harry. She had repeatedly told herself that Ron would be okay because he was pureblood and he could fake an alliance with the Death Eaters just to stay alive, just as long as he did not do anything stupid to protect anyone... especially her. She could not live with herself if anything happened to Ron, even more so if he did it to help herself or Harry. Oh God, Harry. Just the thought of him and this war sent chills down her spine, a lump forming in her throat at the prospect of what is to become of his life. The more she thought about it, the more it hurt and the more tears threatened to fall from her eyes. After a few more moments she couldn't contain the tears any longer and they fell freely down her pale cheeks. As she fell to her side and buried her face in the pillow of the common room couch, a gentle hand brushed her hair in comfort whilst its owner whispered words of reassurance. Thank God she could always rely on Ron.

*

A warning to the prophet, the liar, the honest
This is war
To the leader, the pariah, the victim, the messiah
This is war

Harry Potter felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and in reality it was. He was the 'Chosen One', the only one able to defeat him. Voldemort would spread his reign over the world like a deadly plague, wiping out anyone who stood in his way, just like the first time. During the first war, the Death Eaters were made up largely of inexperienced people who had just graduated from Hogwarts, people whose minds he could manipulate easily. But now, now they were adults who had more than enough power to implement their beliefs in a wider community, infiltrating the highest places. It was only a matter of time. And now people believed it. Harry felt so useless. He knew he was the 'Chosen One' but also that he had no idea how, and everyone was counting on him to save them. What hope did his world have? As he sat on his bed, he looked out of the dorm room window to see a few of the younger Gryffindors enjoying the summer sunshine by lounging at the lakeside, oblivious to the consequences of the war at their age. Harry considered that it would be better if the world had not learnt of Voldemort's return. It would be better to live without fear like they do.

*

I do believe in the light
Raise your hands up to the sky
The fight is done
The war is won
Lift your hands
Towards the sun
Towards the sun
Towards the sun
Towards the sun
The war is won

It had been two years since the world learnt of Voldemort's return. Two years of fear and loss. Now though they could start anew. They could begin rebuilding their lives; repair the damage to not just their material possessions but also their selves. The fight was done. The war was won. And now a light had begun to emerge from the darkness; the darkness that had begun to suffocate the wizarding world. People could breathe, feel, rejoice, cry, relax, love once more, but above all they could live.

A brave new world
The war is won
The war is won
A brave new world