Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sev. I really really do. He's JK Rowlings.
Authornotes: Written for a Character Workshop on "The Hogwarts Experience" RPG board (http://pub51.ezboard.com/bthehogwartsexperience80450) , in an exercise describing how you character feels about Voldemort's second rising. Admin OOK??? Thought it would make a marvellous plug, and demanded that it appear on FF.N. So...I bring you Sevvie's monolouge
________________________________
A Life of Cowardice
________________________________
"Some things are true, whether you believe in them or not."
Far from a profound statement. No, much too absurd to be so, too childish. It disgusts me that I have allowed something sounding so romanticized to slip through my lips. At the moment, it seems that a thousand words could not fill my head quicker, cannot possibly leave me as much to dwell upon.
"We can convince ourselves that what the Ministry tells us is the absolute truth. We can put our faith in Fudge's own denial over his return. Or we can flatly refuse to comprehend the reports spreading throughout the news, refuse to piece the information together and finish the puzzle. But the Dark Lord will remain still, a silent, fatal black cloud waiting – and watching – on the outskirts, planning our demise, our destruction . . .. Our death.
"It is less of a risk to hide inside yourself than to allow others to see past the outer shell. It is far simpler to give in to doubts and uncertainties than to hold true and straight to cherished beliefs. And it is easier to destroy than to create." My eyes slide closed against my will, and immediately the inky darkness found only behind closed lids is filled with faces; voices echo inside my mind. And the shame, the remorse of my own defiled past threatens to overwhelm. "I am guilty of all three.
On the table beside my chair sits an open bottle. A clear, short glass. A pitiful coaster that bears the suggestively written reminder of 'I Want To Be Used.' My throat is unmercifully dry, but I cannot force myself to reach for the presented solution, instead feeling compelled to continue with my words. "For nothing, you get nothing. But for not preventing something horrible, one is often rewarded with hell. I don't deserve heaven." It is something I have long believed, have long accepted. Angel's wings are not granted to murderers - an eternity of fire and brimstone is.
"You can break a man's skull. You can arrest him. You can throw him into a dungeon. But how do you fight an idea? The general populace often loses sight of that fact that the Dark Lord did not begin as a person, but was first formed as an idea. Power and evil have always been dwelled upon, supposed about, and through this corrupt idea he was birthed. He was given life. The theory that Muggles are some plagued form of adversity originated long before him, and will linger on long after we have all perished. Humankind is separated in mind - the varying thought process, the paths we follow, the choices we are given all make us such - and so there will forever be a separation into light and dark.
"My own choices, my own ignorant mentality managed to betray me, left me prey to a starving fate, damned whatever soul I may have possessed at the time."
Even as the bitter words escape from my mouth, I can feel the hot surge of anger begin to flow, like the breaking of a dam; nails bite ruthlessly into the flesh of my palm, shredding the skin. Pounding the arm of the chair, I am on my feet, pacing back and forth, before my conscious mind even registers the action. "A year ago, the greater portion of the Hogwarts students were untouched, unblemished by the festering evil that has returned to us. Now, the expressions I see in the eyes of certain students, the haunted look that is so easily recognizable, seems to mirror my own conflicting emotions.
"I regret deeply that they must grow beyond their years far sooner than should be the case. The single thought that manages to still the alien twinges of sympathy is the fact that the majority of them maintain the luxury of not knowing what I know. Yet."
A pause in my restless pacing only allows a moment to finally pour a steady stream of the clear liquid into the stocky glass. I've often imagined that crises are better handled on one's feet. My own experiences, however, tell me that crises are handled far more easily with a glass of liquor in one's hand.
"The Dark Side is alluring. Intoxicating, even. And I was too proud to take this into consideration." The indignation, the resentful animosity sharpens my voice as it falls hard upon my ears, effectively slapping me in the face. "It had always been there, a harsh, elusive fog hovering just beyond my grasp. Perhaps it was the mystery, or the sense of danger that drew me closer in the beginning, beckoning for me to follow. Or perhaps it was merely the unattainable that fascinated me.
"Either way, I wanted, needed, yearned for more. A thirst for the most expansive knowledge of both sides, of good and evil, developed within me. And even as I continued with my research, all the while deluding myself into believing the pull of the Dark Side could not possibly affect me, I fell deeper into the pit, seduced by the possibilities I saw. Education is supposed to strengthen the mind, but it was my downfall. Goddammit, it makes me sick to recall how weak I was . . .. How weak I am."
Fisting a hand in my hair, I breathe deeply, attempting to dislodge the cold, iron vice that entwines itself about my throat. Composure is a vital element, and the fierce struggle for self-possession lasts several agonizingly silent moments.
". . . Why do men think they can justify death?" Yellowed piles of newspaper clippings, carefully cut and stored away, completely fill a drawer of my desk. Every last article features the tales of death that were so common during the reign of the Dark Lord. And in my mind is engraved the face of each innocent that died at my hand. "How can murder possibly be justified? There is no reason, no f ucking plausible reason to kill. I don't understand –"
Another pause, a necessary one needed to soothe the furious red haze that has swept across my vision. I can feel my body vibrating as the rage slowly – all too slowly – ebbs away. "I don't understand how such monstrous deeds could have been committed. How my own hand could have spilled the blood of those so undeserving of death." The raw ache builds relentlessly in the back of my throat as my shaking hand sets the untouched glass of liquor aside. My blurred gaze travels to my forearm, to the fabric beneath which lies the branding of the Dark Side. "So many things . . . so many horrible things. All done with these two hands - the hands of a Death Eater.
"I cannot, in complete honesty, place blame for my actions on someone, something else. It was my choice, always my choice. There were things I'd never do again, but then . . . then they always seemed right, at least in the beginning, when the temptation, the impetuosity were at their strongest. After that, came the disenchantment, the apprehension, the growing mistrust. Letting suspicions and disbelief take hold uprooted the comforts that had been ensured by the credence of our religion, of our Lord. Denial set in, fear took over. The only thought that ran clearly through my mind was 'Can I survive this?'"
How I had continued still remains a mystery to me. While every rape, every torture, every murder is embedded forever in my mind, is relived continuously, what followed remains a blur. Breaking free from his grip, gaining Dumbledore's trust, working against him even as I was working for him . . . "Do I fear the Dark Lord? Of course I do. I fear him more than I fear what each new day of life will bring me. I fear him more than I fear an eternity in hell, well-deserved for my many sins. I fear what he can do, and what he will do before any of this is over.
"I have heard it said that hope can drive a man insane. A life of cowardice can do likewise."
Authornotes: Written for a Character Workshop on "The Hogwarts Experience" RPG board (http://pub51.ezboard.com/bthehogwartsexperience80450) , in an exercise describing how you character feels about Voldemort's second rising. Admin OOK??? Thought it would make a marvellous plug, and demanded that it appear on FF.N. So...I bring you Sevvie's monolouge
________________________________
A Life of Cowardice
________________________________
"Some things are true, whether you believe in them or not."
Far from a profound statement. No, much too absurd to be so, too childish. It disgusts me that I have allowed something sounding so romanticized to slip through my lips. At the moment, it seems that a thousand words could not fill my head quicker, cannot possibly leave me as much to dwell upon.
"We can convince ourselves that what the Ministry tells us is the absolute truth. We can put our faith in Fudge's own denial over his return. Or we can flatly refuse to comprehend the reports spreading throughout the news, refuse to piece the information together and finish the puzzle. But the Dark Lord will remain still, a silent, fatal black cloud waiting – and watching – on the outskirts, planning our demise, our destruction . . .. Our death.
"It is less of a risk to hide inside yourself than to allow others to see past the outer shell. It is far simpler to give in to doubts and uncertainties than to hold true and straight to cherished beliefs. And it is easier to destroy than to create." My eyes slide closed against my will, and immediately the inky darkness found only behind closed lids is filled with faces; voices echo inside my mind. And the shame, the remorse of my own defiled past threatens to overwhelm. "I am guilty of all three.
On the table beside my chair sits an open bottle. A clear, short glass. A pitiful coaster that bears the suggestively written reminder of 'I Want To Be Used.' My throat is unmercifully dry, but I cannot force myself to reach for the presented solution, instead feeling compelled to continue with my words. "For nothing, you get nothing. But for not preventing something horrible, one is often rewarded with hell. I don't deserve heaven." It is something I have long believed, have long accepted. Angel's wings are not granted to murderers - an eternity of fire and brimstone is.
"You can break a man's skull. You can arrest him. You can throw him into a dungeon. But how do you fight an idea? The general populace often loses sight of that fact that the Dark Lord did not begin as a person, but was first formed as an idea. Power and evil have always been dwelled upon, supposed about, and through this corrupt idea he was birthed. He was given life. The theory that Muggles are some plagued form of adversity originated long before him, and will linger on long after we have all perished. Humankind is separated in mind - the varying thought process, the paths we follow, the choices we are given all make us such - and so there will forever be a separation into light and dark.
"My own choices, my own ignorant mentality managed to betray me, left me prey to a starving fate, damned whatever soul I may have possessed at the time."
Even as the bitter words escape from my mouth, I can feel the hot surge of anger begin to flow, like the breaking of a dam; nails bite ruthlessly into the flesh of my palm, shredding the skin. Pounding the arm of the chair, I am on my feet, pacing back and forth, before my conscious mind even registers the action. "A year ago, the greater portion of the Hogwarts students were untouched, unblemished by the festering evil that has returned to us. Now, the expressions I see in the eyes of certain students, the haunted look that is so easily recognizable, seems to mirror my own conflicting emotions.
"I regret deeply that they must grow beyond their years far sooner than should be the case. The single thought that manages to still the alien twinges of sympathy is the fact that the majority of them maintain the luxury of not knowing what I know. Yet."
A pause in my restless pacing only allows a moment to finally pour a steady stream of the clear liquid into the stocky glass. I've often imagined that crises are better handled on one's feet. My own experiences, however, tell me that crises are handled far more easily with a glass of liquor in one's hand.
"The Dark Side is alluring. Intoxicating, even. And I was too proud to take this into consideration." The indignation, the resentful animosity sharpens my voice as it falls hard upon my ears, effectively slapping me in the face. "It had always been there, a harsh, elusive fog hovering just beyond my grasp. Perhaps it was the mystery, or the sense of danger that drew me closer in the beginning, beckoning for me to follow. Or perhaps it was merely the unattainable that fascinated me.
"Either way, I wanted, needed, yearned for more. A thirst for the most expansive knowledge of both sides, of good and evil, developed within me. And even as I continued with my research, all the while deluding myself into believing the pull of the Dark Side could not possibly affect me, I fell deeper into the pit, seduced by the possibilities I saw. Education is supposed to strengthen the mind, but it was my downfall. Goddammit, it makes me sick to recall how weak I was . . .. How weak I am."
Fisting a hand in my hair, I breathe deeply, attempting to dislodge the cold, iron vice that entwines itself about my throat. Composure is a vital element, and the fierce struggle for self-possession lasts several agonizingly silent moments.
". . . Why do men think they can justify death?" Yellowed piles of newspaper clippings, carefully cut and stored away, completely fill a drawer of my desk. Every last article features the tales of death that were so common during the reign of the Dark Lord. And in my mind is engraved the face of each innocent that died at my hand. "How can murder possibly be justified? There is no reason, no f ucking plausible reason to kill. I don't understand –"
Another pause, a necessary one needed to soothe the furious red haze that has swept across my vision. I can feel my body vibrating as the rage slowly – all too slowly – ebbs away. "I don't understand how such monstrous deeds could have been committed. How my own hand could have spilled the blood of those so undeserving of death." The raw ache builds relentlessly in the back of my throat as my shaking hand sets the untouched glass of liquor aside. My blurred gaze travels to my forearm, to the fabric beneath which lies the branding of the Dark Side. "So many things . . . so many horrible things. All done with these two hands - the hands of a Death Eater.
"I cannot, in complete honesty, place blame for my actions on someone, something else. It was my choice, always my choice. There were things I'd never do again, but then . . . then they always seemed right, at least in the beginning, when the temptation, the impetuosity were at their strongest. After that, came the disenchantment, the apprehension, the growing mistrust. Letting suspicions and disbelief take hold uprooted the comforts that had been ensured by the credence of our religion, of our Lord. Denial set in, fear took over. The only thought that ran clearly through my mind was 'Can I survive this?'"
How I had continued still remains a mystery to me. While every rape, every torture, every murder is embedded forever in my mind, is relived continuously, what followed remains a blur. Breaking free from his grip, gaining Dumbledore's trust, working against him even as I was working for him . . . "Do I fear the Dark Lord? Of course I do. I fear him more than I fear what each new day of life will bring me. I fear him more than I fear an eternity in hell, well-deserved for my many sins. I fear what he can do, and what he will do before any of this is over.
"I have heard it said that hope can drive a man insane. A life of cowardice can do likewise."