For the One a Week Competition (week 5, 500 words)
Horace takes a deep breath. This is the moment he has dreaded since Albus pulled him out of retirement the year before. Laying low and remaining neutral is no longer an option.
He watches the exodus of students, his heart breaking. Hogwarts is supposed to be a safe place. This past year has proven otherwise. How many of those children have suffered at the hands of the Carrows? How many will carry scars? How many will still wake up years later, clutched in the throes of nightmares from their time here?
He has an obligation to them. He has failed more times than he can count, but this is his chance to make things right. He can stay and fight.
And yet, there's a nagging in his mind. He is a Slytherin, after all. He isn't a hero, and the prospect of sacrificing himself doesn't exactly appeal to him. He should be more concerned with saving himself, joining the students, and rushing to safety.
"Coward," he whispers to himself with a laugh.
But hasn't he always been? Hadn't he gone into hiding, so afraid being forced into this very situation?
"Have you made your decision, Horace?" Minerva asks impatiently.
Horace wishes that he could ask for her guidance, but he can't. Minerva has far too much on her mind right now. She hardly has time to waste on an indecisive old fool.
"How many of our old students will we face?" he muses. "All those lives we helped to shape…"
She clears her throat. He can see the pain flash through her eyes. She's considered this as well. "Your answer, Horace?" she presses, her tone gentler this time.
He inhales deeply, massaging his temples. Can he do this? Is he willing to throw himself into the chaos, facing students he once had such high hopes for?
He almost laughs. Never has he ever been faced with such a hopeless situation in his life. If he runs, he marks himself as a coward. His House remains under that terrible shadow that has lingered over it for so long. If he fights, he could die. Worse still, he could kill.
"Damned if I do, damned if I don't."
"Horace…" The impatience has returned to her voice now.
Horace clears his throat. Once again, his eyes scan the fleeing children. He wonders how many Slytherins have stayed behind to fight. Very few, if any. Should the Dark Lord fall, his House will be remembered as the one that refused to stay.
"I'll fight, Minerva," he says at last.
There's a smile on her lips, but it doesn't reach her eyes. His decision is hardly anything to celebrate. He's one extra fighter, but he's also one more person who may not see the end of this war tonight.
"Are we doing the right thing?" he asks.
Minerva rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We are," she says. "We're making our stand, Horace. That should be enough."
"For all our sakes, let's hope that it is."