It had been a long night, to say the least. Time went in a flurry while the curses flew and comrades fell, but now he reflected over it, time dragged its heels and fell at every hurdle. He was one of the few who had escaped uninjured tonight.
He fell against the door to his apartment as he shut it behind him and sighed deeply, sliding down the wall and holding his head in his blood stained hands, trying to come to some sense of tonight's events. In the end he gave up, as always, just settling for his usual explanation to himself, "It's another day, with the Ministry, at war." War. The word echoed in his temples. Peace was so fleeting, so disparate and he just wanted to wake up tomorrow and it all to be gone, it all to be fair. For everyone to have settled their differences in one deft swoop of night. He knew deep down that it didn't happen like that and his mind sank into a deep pit, knowing that more fighting was needed, that this didn't end here. People would keep falling around him until he fell himself or a conclusion had been reached. This was one of those moments he had to remind himself of why he did this. What he was fighting for.
He stood carefully and not caring for the time of night pulled a few years old LP out of his carefully ordered cupboard. Except this one always defied the order, his sense of poignancy over coming his sense of organisation for once. As he pulled the disc from its smooth paper sleeve he already felt comforted and a little more at ease, the storm cooling in his mind at the familiar feel of the waxy paper and its slightly tattered edges.
He solemnly performed the regular ritual of placing the plastic disc on the round altar at which he found his solace as well as his only remaining connection with half his heritage. The song itself was a connection to it all, the bond between Muggle and magic. A muggle song he applied to magical politics. The one song that inspired him to betray his job for the better good, the one song that united his two worlds, gave reasoning to everything he had suffered through to night. The one song that kept him fighting, no matter what. The lyrics stolen from a different time, a different struggle, in a different world, but still perfect.
The soft, Jamaican voice, which reminded him of his family spilled from the speakers overwhelming his senses, the words themselves occupying his mind.
Until the philosophy that holds one race superior and another inferior…
It worked for Haile Selassie's intention in the speech and for Kingsley's own. What was the difference? There wasn't one. Marley's soft Jamaican tone invaded his mind once more, each line reminding him of himself and relaxing the muscles in him, like a drug but stronger. He sat against the wall, incapacitated by just listening and understanding.
Is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned
The way Marley's voice fell on abandoned freed Kingsley's mind a little more, releasing a few more shackles of self doubt and questioning. It gave him justification with every line.
Everywhere is war, me say war
And that was what he was fighting for and the song gave him some vindication. He closed his eyes and tried to rid his mind of the memories of tonight, but not rid himself of their meaning.
That until there is no first class and second class citizens of any nation
That applied to all situations, race, religion or blood in this circumstance. It was the cause he was looking for.
Until the colour of a man's skin is of no more importance than the colour of his eyes
Didn't apply to this situation but the principle still remained. It shouldn't matter, but did. This was what he needed right now, reminding of the injustices he had to counteract.
That until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all, without regard to race, dis a war
He was fighting for all their rights, all his rights that the Death Eaters were determined to suppress by violence and fear. He breathed in deeply and sank into the wall, mind sedated at rediscovering his conviction which was questioned by every night like this.
That until that day
The dream of lasting peace, world citizenship
Rule of international morality
Will remain in but a fleeting illusion
To be pursued, but never attained
Now everywhere is war, war
That verse said it all. Unless he fought for it, with the Ministry and in betraying them, nothing was going to happen, it was all just a fleeting illusion. This wasn't an easily put out fire, it was one that burnt well into the night, needing constant vigulance, as it spread easily and quickly.
War in the east, war in the west
War up north, war down south
War, war, rumours of war
His mind skipped ahead to this part. War was everywhere now. Not just in the country, but in him. He was a part of war, the war, the struggle had become part of him. It was in his mind, in his heart and even in his soul. He lost the memories of the night, carried away by Marley's mellow voice, into the midnight air.
And until that day, the African continent
Will not know peace, we Africans will fight
We find it necessary and we know we shall win
As we are confident in the victory
Of good over evil
As the last line repeated, echoing into the night, tears danced in his eyes, an embodiment of his purpose. Good over evil. That's what it was now, nothing else.