Hey, ya'll! Well, this is a songfic (the song is 'Hands' by Jewl) and it can be set anytime after GOF. This is just the thoughts of a few of the characters. R & R, and flame if you like, I just bought a big bag of marshmellows and some hot dogs, and they need roasting.
'If I could tell the world just one thing, it would be,
we're all okay'
Dumbledore:
After the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts became a battleground. But not a battleground in the conventional sense of the word, in the sense I was used to. It was a battleground between truth and lies, between good and evil. And I sensed, even then, that the outcome of this battle, though no blood would be shed here, would determine the fate of our world. I wish I knew what fate we would choose.
'And not to worry, 'cause worry is wasteful,
and useless in times like these'
Hermione:
It was pointless to worry, Hagrid insisted. What would happen, would happen, whether we worried about it or not. We could ruin our lives by constantly looking over our shoulders for the monsters of our past. But if we didn't worry, I wondered if we'd live long enough to have a past.
'I won't be made useless,
won't be idle with despair,
I'll gather myself around my faith,
for Light the Darkness most fears'
Harry:
We must fight Voldemort. We cannot simply back down and let him rule our world. But if we fight, how many of us will be left to celebrate the victory? It's pointless to think of that, I know, and yet as I remember the events that led to Voldemort's rebirth, I can't help but wonder how I could have ever hoped to fight the Dark Side and win. Oh, even now we could probably win, but now more than ever before I have to ask myself whether it is truly worth it. Can Light conquer Darkness, or am I wishing for the impossible? And how high must the cost of victory be before we lose the will to fight? If it comes to that, do I have the courage to make the ultimate sacrifice?
'My hands are small I know, but they're not yours, they are my own,
but they're not yours, they are my own and I am never broken'
Ginny:
I studied at the haunted look on Harry's face. It was the face of one who had seen too much evil in his life, and been able to stop too little of it. I remembered the way he'd reacted when Ron had very timidly asked him about Cedric, two days after the incident. Ron had only been wanting to help, but it hadn't worked that way. The expression of utter fury that had briefly darkened Harry's face did not at all suit his handsome features, and for a moment, I feared him almost as much as I did Voldemort. I could only wonder if I honestly had a right to fear him.
'Poverty stole your golden shoes,
but didn't steal your laughter,
and heartache came to visit me,
but I knew it wasn't ever after'
Draco:
I listened to Dumbledore's speech with little or no interest. I knew what had happened to Cedric, probably better than anyone else here. Except Potter. Even now, in times like these, he could still beat me at everything. I saw the expression on his face as he looked at me, and I knew he understood everything, as I never would. As I never could, for although I had been raised to follow Voldemort, I found little pleasure in the Dark Lord's rise. I hated myself for showing weakness, but somehow this didn't feel right. It wasn't right for Voldemort to ruin the world wizards everywhere had worked so hard to rebuild. My father didn't understand that. Was I a fool for resisting? Or was I right?
'We'll fight, not out of spite,
but someone must stand up for what's right,
and where this man who has no voice,
there are shadows singing'
Harry:
I stared at the picture, but I didn't really see it. Finally I forced myself to focus on the photograph. My parents waved at me, and I smiled faintly. But my smile faded quickly as I remembered my reasons for prowling through my trunk at two o'clock in the morning. My own screams had woken me up. I'd been dreaming about Cedric's death. Again. And again I found myself striving to reassure myself that it had not been my fault. But that was not the thing that haunted my nightmares. It was the thought of how easy it would be for me to switch sides. Sure, I probably had more reason than most to fear Voldemort, and the obvious choice would be to join him and forever save myself from his fury. But it wasn't that I was afraid of him, really. It was that I feared myself. Tom Riddle and I were too much alike to deny, yet that was what I found myself doing. And it scared me that if it weren't for my parents, I would be in Slytherin, and would probably be pledging my loyalty to him at this very instant. Voldemort and I fought, not out of hatred for each other, but because of our hatred for what the other stood for. He fought for the Dark Side, and I fought for the Light Side. But one of us stood for what was right. The only question was: who was right?
Would I live long enough to find out?
'If I could tell the world just one thing, it would be,
we're all okay'
Dumbledore:
After the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts became a battleground. But not a battleground in the conventional sense of the word, in the sense I was used to. It was a battleground between truth and lies, between good and evil. And I sensed, even then, that the outcome of this battle, though no blood would be shed here, would determine the fate of our world. I wish I knew what fate we would choose.
'And not to worry, 'cause worry is wasteful,
and useless in times like these'
Hermione:
It was pointless to worry, Hagrid insisted. What would happen, would happen, whether we worried about it or not. We could ruin our lives by constantly looking over our shoulders for the monsters of our past. But if we didn't worry, I wondered if we'd live long enough to have a past.
'I won't be made useless,
won't be idle with despair,
I'll gather myself around my faith,
for Light the Darkness most fears'
Harry:
We must fight Voldemort. We cannot simply back down and let him rule our world. But if we fight, how many of us will be left to celebrate the victory? It's pointless to think of that, I know, and yet as I remember the events that led to Voldemort's rebirth, I can't help but wonder how I could have ever hoped to fight the Dark Side and win. Oh, even now we could probably win, but now more than ever before I have to ask myself whether it is truly worth it. Can Light conquer Darkness, or am I wishing for the impossible? And how high must the cost of victory be before we lose the will to fight? If it comes to that, do I have the courage to make the ultimate sacrifice?
'My hands are small I know, but they're not yours, they are my own,
but they're not yours, they are my own and I am never broken'
Ginny:
I studied at the haunted look on Harry's face. It was the face of one who had seen too much evil in his life, and been able to stop too little of it. I remembered the way he'd reacted when Ron had very timidly asked him about Cedric, two days after the incident. Ron had only been wanting to help, but it hadn't worked that way. The expression of utter fury that had briefly darkened Harry's face did not at all suit his handsome features, and for a moment, I feared him almost as much as I did Voldemort. I could only wonder if I honestly had a right to fear him.
'Poverty stole your golden shoes,
but didn't steal your laughter,
and heartache came to visit me,
but I knew it wasn't ever after'
Draco:
I listened to Dumbledore's speech with little or no interest. I knew what had happened to Cedric, probably better than anyone else here. Except Potter. Even now, in times like these, he could still beat me at everything. I saw the expression on his face as he looked at me, and I knew he understood everything, as I never would. As I never could, for although I had been raised to follow Voldemort, I found little pleasure in the Dark Lord's rise. I hated myself for showing weakness, but somehow this didn't feel right. It wasn't right for Voldemort to ruin the world wizards everywhere had worked so hard to rebuild. My father didn't understand that. Was I a fool for resisting? Or was I right?
'We'll fight, not out of spite,
but someone must stand up for what's right,
and where this man who has no voice,
there are shadows singing'
Harry:
I stared at the picture, but I didn't really see it. Finally I forced myself to focus on the photograph. My parents waved at me, and I smiled faintly. But my smile faded quickly as I remembered my reasons for prowling through my trunk at two o'clock in the morning. My own screams had woken me up. I'd been dreaming about Cedric's death. Again. And again I found myself striving to reassure myself that it had not been my fault. But that was not the thing that haunted my nightmares. It was the thought of how easy it would be for me to switch sides. Sure, I probably had more reason than most to fear Voldemort, and the obvious choice would be to join him and forever save myself from his fury. But it wasn't that I was afraid of him, really. It was that I feared myself. Tom Riddle and I were too much alike to deny, yet that was what I found myself doing. And it scared me that if it weren't for my parents, I would be in Slytherin, and would probably be pledging my loyalty to him at this very instant. Voldemort and I fought, not out of hatred for each other, but because of our hatred for what the other stood for. He fought for the Dark Side, and I fought for the Light Side. But one of us stood for what was right. The only question was: who was right?
Would I live long enough to find out?