Disclaimer: All characters, places and some events belong to JK Rowling. I only borrow them and use them for my writings. My bank account will remain the same after publishing this, ie: nonexistent. Enjoy!
It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie,
The moment to live and the moment to die,
The moment to fight, the moment to fight
To fight, to fight, to fight! – This Is War, 30 Seconds To Mars.
This Is War
Glop. Glop. Glop. Glop.
Raindrops were falling incessantly at that especially cold night and resounded hardly against the thin walls of the tent. He had tried using the typical trick of counting to fall asleep, but it had not worked. He also tried to count the raindrops, given the fact that they kept falling and kept disturbing his irregular sleep. The gentle tinkling of the falling rain had started as a pleasant sound, even reassuring. Rain transmitted him an inexplicable sense of peace. Seeing the water falling and flowing freely made him think that maybe, someday, he could be free. And, perhaps, the eternal rivers formed by raindrops could run and erase all the traces and bad memories from his mind.
He tried, for the umpteenth time, to close his eyes and rest a bit, but he quickly gave up. He was not going to be able to sleep that night. Another sleepless dark night. He knew that that was not healthy, that he needed to get some rest in order to face the days ahead. But he could not help it. He just could not help thinking. Thinking about everything that was happening. Thinking of everyone that was suffering. Thinking of all the people who were dying and, above all, in all those who were losing loved ones. He also had in mind all those people he had left behind. Merlin. His heart shuddered at the thought of something happening to them. And those were just a sample of the countless occurrences that filled his mind. Sometimes he allowed himself to be a little selfish and wonder, why? Why were they still fighting? Why couldn't all of this just end already? He needed everything to stop. He needed to get away from that horrible situation. He was at his breaking point. He couldn't take it anymore. He was about to burst. Because it was nowhere near fair, ethical or moral that a seventeen year old boy held the fate of his own world in his hands.
Every time he thought about it, a mixture of both responsibility and terror flooded him. Everything depended on him. It was in his hands to save the Wizarding world; he was responsible of preventing more deaths. It was his responsibility to end it all as quickly as possible in order to guarantee a future for the majority and, especially, it was his responsibility to make sure that children could grow up safely, without bloodstained memories. Terror was added to all those concerns. He was so scared. He was terrified and he was ashamed of himself for that. He was supposed to be a true Gryffindor and so he wasn't supposed to be scared, right? He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Everyone saw him as their saviour, as a tragic hero. Due to the known prophecy, he was the only one able to defeat him and, thus, it was his duty to do so in order to save the world. A plain simple task, right? He was afraid of admitting his fear. It frightened him because, if he stopped fooling himself, if he faced the mere truth, if he assumed it, that dread would become real. But it was inevitable. He had to face Voldemort, the darkest and most evil wizard of recent times after Grindelwald. Just thinking of duelling him sent child down his spine. It paralyzed him. His optimistic side, though, tried to see him as Tom Riddle, an old wizard who was drowning in his own lust for power.
A noise made him find himself within his deepest thoughts. He sat up straight, turned around and tried to adapt his eyes to the darkness. After a few seconds, he finally managed to distinguish some figures. A girl, curled up with a frown; his best friend. In the next bed, a boy with an open mouth and talking in his sleep; his best friend. They were there. Both of them. They stood by him. He was not alone.
Seeing them there, watching them sleeping allegedly peacefully provided him with a mixture of feelings quite difficult to decipher. He loved them, he was sure of that. They were like the siblings he had never had.
Looking back and recalling everything they had been through together, he certainly realized something. The brotherly bond they shared was unbreakable. It was not going to disappear, no matter what. They had been together getting themselves into trouble since first year. From first year until the last one. The three of them perfectly complemented each other. They were three parts of the same entity. Mind, Heart and Soul. It didn't take a genius to find out who was who.
Ron. The first person he spoke to at the Hogwarts Express gate. The person who taught him what it was like to be part of a family. He was the eighth brother of the Weasley family, thanks to him. The person who had always been by his side, standing by him and defending him even when no one else did, while all of Hogwarts thought he was a liar and a lunatic. The person who understood him with just a glance. The King. His brother.
Hermione. Although at first she didn't make a good impression on him, as he felt she was just an insufferable know-it-all, a Troll united them for good. Perhaps he should try to find it and thank him. He could say with no fear of being mistaken that, without her, he wouldn't be alive. She had saved him in countless occasions. His extensive knowledge of magic, even though she was raised in the Muggle world, added to her rapid perception and logic was the key combination that always saved their butts. If he had to point out a flaw, it would be her stubbornness. She wasn't perfect, he knew it well, but he was fine with that. At the end of the day, no one is. The brightest witch of her age. His sister.
Mind, Heart, Soul. Hermione, Ron, Harry. He had suffered a lot in his life, especially in his childhood. Very few people knew, and if they did, they apparently refused to remember but he had been abused in childhood. He was brought up in an abusive household. He did not know the reasons, he did not know why. What he knew, though, is that he thanked Merlin, the alignment of stars and planets or whatever it was that had allowed those people to come into his life.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Having allowed those feelings to invade his memory had made him feel a bit overwhelmed. Since he could not rest and he wanted to do something useful, he made the decision of doing a surveillance turn. But not there. Not there, watching a tent set in a forest lost in the middle of nowhere. No, he would do that tomorrow. He decided to do surveillance in the place which he had considered his home for the last seven years of his life. Hogwarts. He pulled out the Marauder's Map from his pocket (he always kept it near him) and opened it. I solemnly swear I am up to no good. Hundreds of black dots appeared on the parchment, each of them with a label indicating whom they belonged. Although it sounded frivolous, he was only interested in one person in particular. He caught a glimpse of Snape's name and resisted the urge to strangle him. He also noticed the Carrow brothers. ... He felt disappointed. What had the world turned into for it to consider rational and rightful that some Death Eaters were teaching children? The stream of names kept going and he actually smiled at the sight of some of them. Seamus, Dean, Neville, Luna. Eventually, he found it. Ginevra Molly Weasley.
Ginny. Merlin, he loved her. He loved her to the point that he blamed himself basically every day for being so stupid and blind as not to have noticed before. If he had, he could have spent more time with her. Fuck. He loved every bit of her. Her big brown eyes in which he could lose himself endlessly. Her long eyelashes, which she fluttered when she wanted to achieve something. Her beautiful freckles, which charmingly decorated her, from her face to her shoulders and back. Her thin lips, from which strong words emanated every time she got angry, powerful spells were pronounced when fighting, sweet kisses were given when snogging. He could very well spend the rest of his life kissing her. Her most distinctive feature was her bright red hair, which fitted perfectly according to her personality. His father, James, would have been proud, he thought. His girlfriend was a redhead and a beast playing Quidditch, not only in one position, but two. To him, she was perfect.
He looked at his wristwatch, which first belonged to Fabian and was given to him as his seventeenth birthday present by Mrs. Weasley. It was very late or early, depending on the perspective. At that time, at four o'clock in the morning lying in a tent lost in the dark, he made a decision. He was going to end it. For the sake of his family, friends and her. For the sake of all the students of Hogwarts. For all who have sacrificed their lives and had fallen trying to stop it. For the sake of the magical community.
This was a war. Neither a struggle nor a battle. A full ongoing war. But he was willing to fight. And, most importantly, he was willing to win. And so, with that thought in his head and with the falling rain, he closed his eyes once again and tried to sleep. This time, with a difference. This time, with a certainty.
We will win this war. He was going to make his parents proud.
N / A: Well, here it is. The first chapter of this story. As I suppose you have seen, this moment in time basically explains the feeling of anguish and despair Harry felt throughout the search for the Horcruxes. Maybe he didn't show his fears during the day, but he definitely did at night.
I apologize for my possible mistakes, but please bear in mind that English is not my first language (in fact, it's my third). I have gone through it more than a couple of times but, still, some mistakes have probably slipped in. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Please, comment and tell me what are your thoughts about this chapter. If you liked it, comment. If you hated it, review it too. If you have constructive criticism that would make me improve, go ahead. Comments make my day. :)
Lilith Potter Black