Disclaimer: Sure, it's mine. If the next book involves Draco talking to himself and trying to be noble while just sounding pathetic. If it doesn't, it's J.K. Rowling's.
Author's Note: Not exactly meant to be a humour fic, but I wasn't quite sure how to categorize it. I felt bad for all my Draco-killing stories so I wrote this to try and redeem him.
Now seriously, was there ever any doubt that the final battle would be fought on Hogwarts soil?
A stand off between Light and Dark, Good and Evil, lead by the two greatest wizards of all time, Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. Both flanked, respectively, by a kid or a coward. Each commanding vast and frightening armies. Blah, blah, and blah.
Yes, I should take my place among them.
But, in the manner of my distinguished family, I hide myself away in one of the small abandoned towers and watch from a safe distance. My excuse? I don't belong down there in the midst of the ultimate battle of right and wrong. Quite good, no?
In truth, it seems only I can see that the outcome doesn't really matter. Regardless of victory, there will always be packets of resistance from the opposing side. It will never end and someone, somewhere will continue to live in fear.
Oh yeah, that's freedom, Professor Dumbledore.
The battle seems to be stalled, both sides refusing to make the first move. Everyone waits with bated breath and mounting apprehension, wondering if they will walk away alive. Ha, who are they kidding? Besides, even if they survive, they'll be emotionally scarred for life.
The most important decision of my life and I'm sitting on the fence. If a Death Eater and an Order member burst into this room at the same time, who would I turn my wand on? Would I kill my father or Professor Snape? Then again, my father never threatened to fail me in Potions.
Perhaps I should just wait and see who wins before deciding whom to join. I'm not one to fight a losing battle.
Hey, would you look at that. Who would've guessed? That Gryffindor Longbottom has just sent the first curse. It's hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like he brought down MacNair. And here I thought he was just a useless tub of lard all these years. Good for him.
They've crashed upon each other like waves to the shore now. (Who says I don't have any creative imagery?) Under the flashes of green it's impossible to tell who's who, or who's winning. Not that it matters any.
Then why do I feel like it should?
Oh, Merlin. This must be one of those epiphanies. Damn my luck that it had to be now.
All right, so the world would be better off if Potter's little army came out victorious. I can't do anything to help it.
*pause*
Of all the times to suddenly grow a conscience . . . Fine, I'll go out there and die fighting for the "good" side. Maybe I'll save a few lives and justify myself before I'm killed. Maybe it'll be worth it.
But I doubt it, and my death is on your head.