Summary: Short song-fic about the final battle. The song is Behind Closed Doors by Rise Against. R&R Perhaps?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the brilliant, awe-inspiring, and magnificent JK Rowling. The lyrics to Behind Closed Doors belong to the amazing Rise Against.
A/N: I am a big Rise Against fan and a bigger Harry Potter fan (in fact if the term "completely and totally, passionately obsessed had to be applied somewhere I believe it'd be applied to my love of Harry Potter) Then one day I was listening along to this song and it hit me…how much it reminded me of the final battles. I hope you like it. Read and Review please!
Chairs thrown and tables toppled, hands armed with broken bottles. Standing no chance to win but we're not running, we're not running.
Harry took a second to look around at the war raging on around him. The tables in the great hall were overturned and people were using whatever they could to stay alive. It looked bleak indeed. The Death Eaters were not only all of age and fully trained for the most part, but they also had Giants on their side. However, despite the fact that it seemed that their chances were weak, Harry refused to run. Everyone stood their ground. They would not surrender.
There's a point I think we're missing, it's in the air we raise our fists in. In the smiles we cast each other, my sister, my brother.
Harry stopped to consider something, this whole time he'd been fighting Voldemort just because it was right, just because he felt he had to. He missed the point. But now he finally saw it. Voldemort couldn't accept people, couldn't accept differences. Everyone had to be like him, had to think the same and act the same. Or they were a threat or a nuisance. But as they all gathered to fight Voldemort he noticed how each of them were different, they'd spent the last years at Hogwarts disagreeing and being in different houses, of different blood. Yet they were all a united front, on the same side, fighting for the same damn thing. And thinking of this Harry thought of Ron and Hermione, and as they were fighting on either sides of him, cast them both sideways glances, smiling at each of them for a brief second. And they smiled back. This was his family; it had been that way all along.
About the time we gave up hoping we'd ever find these lock still open, stumbling on stones unturned. The hurt we feel we all have earned.
Harry figured that he, Hermione and Ron would never be in Hogwarts again, that the last day of sixth year would be the last moment he ever set eyes on the dimly lit walls of the corridors, or look up at the bewitched ceiling of the great hall. But here they were again. However the numbers of casualties are growing and things are looking dim. Harry felt this hurt surge through him and wondered for a moment…he must have done something wrong…surely. But deep down, he knew that it was not to do with something he'd done wrong. This was because of Voldemort and his twisted mind.
The lines we've crossed in search of change, but all they see is treason.
So many of them had been through hell and back to fix this hurt, to save the Wizarding World from a fate so grim, but thanks does not come. In fact it's the exact opposite. As the Death Eaters have infiltrated the Ministry; they say that they're conspiring against them, trying to mess with the minds of the innocent and tamper with a peaceful world. This world is not at peace and this world needs change.
Although we have no obligation to stay alive on broken backs we beg for mercy, we will survive. (Break out) I won't be left here, behind closed doors.
Like Aberforth said, Harry didn't have to be fighting this. He could easily run away…or even give up. However Harry must stay alive, he wouldn't give up fighting until he succeeds…or until he dies trying. Harry refused to hide away; he refused to hide behind closed doors while the rest of the world fights for him. This was a war he was involved in before it even began…and he would win. Or he would die.