Moving On
Authors Note: Okay, I'm not normally a songfic writer, but I heard this song and wanted a go at it. If enough people thing its worth it, I'll continue it later on. Thanks!
Disclaimer: "I'm Moving On" belongs to Rascal Flats, Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling, the only thing you see that belongs to me is the fanfic itself.
WARNING: If you have not read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling, take note that this songfic contains spoilers for all five Harry Potter books. With that in mind, enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons,
Finally content with a past I regret...
~*~
Harry Potter stared blankly out the second story window to his room on Number Four, Privet Drive. Even if he had wanted to dwell on the past year's events, he would have found himself unable. Harry's mind felt numb and empty. The thought struck him, dully, that this must be how someone felt after a dementor had stolen their soul. Even if they could have spoken, communicated, they wouldn't have wanted to...
~*~
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness,
For once I'm at peace with myself...
~*~
Peace. Could that be what he was feeling? No, Harry told himself, peace did not make one feel as though their heart had been frozen over. A sharp rap sounded on the door to his room, which was for once, not bolted on the outside. Despite the fact that he had the freedom he would have done anything for last year, to watch the television, wander about the house, he had remained in his room. The Dursleys, whom had only begun allowing Harry these privileges for fear that a strange man wearing a bowler hat and sporting one replacement eye would show up on their doorstep, were not complaining. Not that it kept them from being rude to him as they pleased. "You, boy! Stop lazing about your room and help your Aunt with the gardening!"
Came his Uncle Vernon's angry bellow from outside the door, which was now being pounded by a series of (Harry could only guess) very pudgy fists, made larger by a brand new pair of boxing gloves. His cousin Dudley, who had taken to pounding on Harry's door with these gloves whenever the Dursleys pushed food through the trap door, was only this brave while Harry could not touch him, as Harry was well aware. As though his Uncle's shouting had been a wake up call, the numb, empty feeling left him almost immediately, replaced by hot surging anger.
~*~
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long...
I'm moving on
~*~
The only other time he could remember being so angry was when he had gone after Bellatrix when - iNO/i. The voice in his head abruptly reminded him, he would not think of that, he couldn't. He would not let the memories return, and as the anger returned he suddenly knew exactly what he was going to do. He would not end his life as the murderer or the murdered! He was leaving. Ignoring the pounding on the door as it grew louder, he looked about his possessions swiftly, determining what things could be taken and what things must stay. His wand - yes, that must definitely come. His father's Invisibility Cloak - that would be needed as well.
And then his eyes trailed over the Firebolt, the broom that had served so loyal to him...a present from his godfather. But as he imagined himself strolling through Wisteria Walk with a broom stick while trying to hide from muggles and wizards alike, he knew that he could not take it with him. Then there were his books of course, and the various letters from the Order that had come as promised, and then - he looked to his baggage and noticed something that he had forgotten about before. The two-way mirror lay beneath an old pile of socks, only it was different somehow...and then Harry remembered. The mirror was no longer broken, the shattered pieces were intact just as they had been when he had opened the package. But who had fixed it? As his Uncle's shouts grew louder and more furious, he knew he had to hurry. Stuffing the mirror into his pocket, where it stuck out awkwardly, he thrust his wand into another and, grasping the Invisibility Cloak under one arm, slammed open the door to his room. The sudden opening caused Dudley to fall forward with a piggish squeal, and one of Uncle Vernon's beefy fists which had been aiding Dudley in the pounding, no doubt, to collide with the side of Harry's head.
So that's where Dudley's boxing talent had come from...the thought rang idly through Harry's head, his teeth had been knocked together from the impact and he tottered backwards, Uncle Vernon's mouth agape in shock. iGet out!/i - the voice in his head sounded urgent now as he remembered what he had been doing, and before his Uncle could stop him, Harry raced under his outstretched arm, down the stairs and through the door.
~*~
I've lived in this place and I know all the faces,
Each one is different, but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but its time that I face it,
They'll never allow me to change...
~*~
Harry kept running, he ran through the alley way where the dementors had attacked Dudley and he last year, he ran through the trashed children's play ground where he had sat and thought of his godfather's advice, he ran past the street where he had first seen Sirius as a large shaggy black dog, and escaped Privet Drive on the Knight Bus. He continued to run until he could run no longer, and had to walk to catch his breath. 'You shouldn't have done that.' The small voice in his head was back and Harry scowled, hadn't this been the voice that had directed him to run back at Number Four? However when he considered what he had done he realized that the voice was right, on the streets he was live bait for Death Eaters. And as the scar on his forehead gave a nasty pang, he suddenly felt a cold feeling of heartless satisfaction that was not his own. Voldemort. The voice in his head had belonged to Voldemort, though it had sounded like his own. Why had he not learned Occlumency! He had fallen right into a trap, and unless he thought of something quickly, Harry was certain Voldemort would waste no time in sending his Death Eaters upon him before he could reach Privet Drive.
~*~
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong,
I'm moving on...
~*~
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?" A voice came again, this time Harry's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not falling for it again..." However he was cut short when a large object fell from his pocket, and the voice began again.
"Harry? Are you there?" And picking up the mirror from the ground, Harry could only hope -
But his hopes were diminished. Staring up at him from the mirror was not the laughing face of his godfather, but the worried face of his best friend, Ron Weasley.
"R-Ron?" He stammered, feeling his hopes shatter instantly.
Ron looked rather relieved upon seeing Harry's face in one piece, although looked rather surprised at something.
"I heard your uncle, I've been calling for you for ages! Harry - did he do that?" Ron gestured toward his eye, and for a moment Harry wished the mirror was normal, although by the look on his friend's face he didn't need a mirror to tell him that his had swollen considerably where Uncle Vernon had hit him inadvertently.
"Yes, but listen, Ron, I have to go -" Harry stammered, it was getting dark...
"Harry, listen, you have to get back to Privet Drive! Dumbledore says -"
But Harry did not hear him, because standing some length ahead of him, was a large black, shaggy dog.
"Padfoot...?" Harry could hear his pulse, his heart was beating so quickly it hurt. It couldn't be...
And it wasn't.
"Wrong again, Harry..." The voice was not coming from Sirius' mirror this time, and Harry saw the snarling dog leap at him, felt himself falling backwards onto the pavement, before everything went black.
~*~
I'm moving on, at last I can see
Life has been patiently waiting for me and I know
There's no guarantee that I'm not alone
There comes a time, in everyone's life
When all they can see are the years passing by...
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I'm moving on...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note: What do you think? If enough people think I should continue the next chapter will have a song basis as well. Feel free to post on the comments section be it review, flame, random outburst, etc. Thanks for reading!
Authors Note: Okay, I'm not normally a songfic writer, but I heard this song and wanted a go at it. If enough people thing its worth it, I'll continue it later on. Thanks!
Disclaimer: "I'm Moving On" belongs to Rascal Flats, Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling, the only thing you see that belongs to me is the fanfic itself.
WARNING: If you have not read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling, take note that this songfic contains spoilers for all five Harry Potter books. With that in mind, enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons,
Finally content with a past I regret...
~*~
Harry Potter stared blankly out the second story window to his room on Number Four, Privet Drive. Even if he had wanted to dwell on the past year's events, he would have found himself unable. Harry's mind felt numb and empty. The thought struck him, dully, that this must be how someone felt after a dementor had stolen their soul. Even if they could have spoken, communicated, they wouldn't have wanted to...
~*~
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness,
For once I'm at peace with myself...
~*~
Peace. Could that be what he was feeling? No, Harry told himself, peace did not make one feel as though their heart had been frozen over. A sharp rap sounded on the door to his room, which was for once, not bolted on the outside. Despite the fact that he had the freedom he would have done anything for last year, to watch the television, wander about the house, he had remained in his room. The Dursleys, whom had only begun allowing Harry these privileges for fear that a strange man wearing a bowler hat and sporting one replacement eye would show up on their doorstep, were not complaining. Not that it kept them from being rude to him as they pleased. "You, boy! Stop lazing about your room and help your Aunt with the gardening!"
Came his Uncle Vernon's angry bellow from outside the door, which was now being pounded by a series of (Harry could only guess) very pudgy fists, made larger by a brand new pair of boxing gloves. His cousin Dudley, who had taken to pounding on Harry's door with these gloves whenever the Dursleys pushed food through the trap door, was only this brave while Harry could not touch him, as Harry was well aware. As though his Uncle's shouting had been a wake up call, the numb, empty feeling left him almost immediately, replaced by hot surging anger.
~*~
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long...
I'm moving on
~*~
The only other time he could remember being so angry was when he had gone after Bellatrix when - iNO/i. The voice in his head abruptly reminded him, he would not think of that, he couldn't. He would not let the memories return, and as the anger returned he suddenly knew exactly what he was going to do. He would not end his life as the murderer or the murdered! He was leaving. Ignoring the pounding on the door as it grew louder, he looked about his possessions swiftly, determining what things could be taken and what things must stay. His wand - yes, that must definitely come. His father's Invisibility Cloak - that would be needed as well.
And then his eyes trailed over the Firebolt, the broom that had served so loyal to him...a present from his godfather. But as he imagined himself strolling through Wisteria Walk with a broom stick while trying to hide from muggles and wizards alike, he knew that he could not take it with him. Then there were his books of course, and the various letters from the Order that had come as promised, and then - he looked to his baggage and noticed something that he had forgotten about before. The two-way mirror lay beneath an old pile of socks, only it was different somehow...and then Harry remembered. The mirror was no longer broken, the shattered pieces were intact just as they had been when he had opened the package. But who had fixed it? As his Uncle's shouts grew louder and more furious, he knew he had to hurry. Stuffing the mirror into his pocket, where it stuck out awkwardly, he thrust his wand into another and, grasping the Invisibility Cloak under one arm, slammed open the door to his room. The sudden opening caused Dudley to fall forward with a piggish squeal, and one of Uncle Vernon's beefy fists which had been aiding Dudley in the pounding, no doubt, to collide with the side of Harry's head.
So that's where Dudley's boxing talent had come from...the thought rang idly through Harry's head, his teeth had been knocked together from the impact and he tottered backwards, Uncle Vernon's mouth agape in shock. iGet out!/i - the voice in his head sounded urgent now as he remembered what he had been doing, and before his Uncle could stop him, Harry raced under his outstretched arm, down the stairs and through the door.
~*~
I've lived in this place and I know all the faces,
Each one is different, but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but its time that I face it,
They'll never allow me to change...
~*~
Harry kept running, he ran through the alley way where the dementors had attacked Dudley and he last year, he ran through the trashed children's play ground where he had sat and thought of his godfather's advice, he ran past the street where he had first seen Sirius as a large shaggy black dog, and escaped Privet Drive on the Knight Bus. He continued to run until he could run no longer, and had to walk to catch his breath. 'You shouldn't have done that.' The small voice in his head was back and Harry scowled, hadn't this been the voice that had directed him to run back at Number Four? However when he considered what he had done he realized that the voice was right, on the streets he was live bait for Death Eaters. And as the scar on his forehead gave a nasty pang, he suddenly felt a cold feeling of heartless satisfaction that was not his own. Voldemort. The voice in his head had belonged to Voldemort, though it had sounded like his own. Why had he not learned Occlumency! He had fallen right into a trap, and unless he thought of something quickly, Harry was certain Voldemort would waste no time in sending his Death Eaters upon him before he could reach Privet Drive.
~*~
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong,
I'm moving on...
~*~
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?" A voice came again, this time Harry's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not falling for it again..." However he was cut short when a large object fell from his pocket, and the voice began again.
"Harry? Are you there?" And picking up the mirror from the ground, Harry could only hope -
But his hopes were diminished. Staring up at him from the mirror was not the laughing face of his godfather, but the worried face of his best friend, Ron Weasley.
"R-Ron?" He stammered, feeling his hopes shatter instantly.
Ron looked rather relieved upon seeing Harry's face in one piece, although looked rather surprised at something.
"I heard your uncle, I've been calling for you for ages! Harry - did he do that?" Ron gestured toward his eye, and for a moment Harry wished the mirror was normal, although by the look on his friend's face he didn't need a mirror to tell him that his had swollen considerably where Uncle Vernon had hit him inadvertently.
"Yes, but listen, Ron, I have to go -" Harry stammered, it was getting dark...
"Harry, listen, you have to get back to Privet Drive! Dumbledore says -"
But Harry did not hear him, because standing some length ahead of him, was a large black, shaggy dog.
"Padfoot...?" Harry could hear his pulse, his heart was beating so quickly it hurt. It couldn't be...
And it wasn't.
"Wrong again, Harry..." The voice was not coming from Sirius' mirror this time, and Harry saw the snarling dog leap at him, felt himself falling backwards onto the pavement, before everything went black.
~*~
I'm moving on, at last I can see
Life has been patiently waiting for me and I know
There's no guarantee that I'm not alone
There comes a time, in everyone's life
When all they can see are the years passing by...
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I'm moving on...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note: What do you think? If enough people think I should continue the next chapter will have a song basis as well. Feel free to post on the comments section be it review, flame, random outburst, etc. Thanks for reading!