Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is really one of my countless multiple
personalities, really. But in order to keep all pretenses all, I promptly
claim that none of the Harry Potter's characters or plotlines are mine and
I'm definitely not making money off this story. Also, Where Will You Go is
an excellent song that belongs to Evanescence.
AN: It's actually my first Harry Potter fic that I've manage to finish! 0_0 way to go me! Albeit, it's just a short drabble that was inspired by Evanescence's Where Will You Go, hence the title (how unoriginal, I know). I just thought that that song fits Harry so well. There's really no slash, although if you want, you could interpret it that way. I'm aware that it does have potential for a longer fic, but I'm still thinking about it, I guess it'll greatly depend on the readers' opinion.
Please review!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Where Will You Go
You're too important for anyone
you play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You're the one who cries when you're alone
But where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape
You can't escape
You think that I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
But where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't abandon everyone
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
I'm so sick of speaking words that no one understands
Is it clear enough that you can't live your whole life all alone
I can hear you in a whisper
But you can't even hear me screaming
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
*~*~*~*~*~*
A bird.
A caged bird.
At this very moment, confined in the golden and scarlet room of the late Headmaster, pacing back and forth, restless under the unwavering scrutiny of the mute portraits, this was exactly what you reminded me of. A precious nightingale in a gilded cage. Trapped, clipped wings flapping uselessly against your glorious prison. Desperately, yet vainly trying to find a way out. All the while knowing that there was none. I cursed under my breath. Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated with you?
"Mr. Potter."
You walked swiftly past me, ignoring me as if I was a sheer ghost. You paused in front of the elegant fireplace, staring deep into the feeble warmth in which you've seen Professor Dumbledore disappear merely hours ago, from which you've heard his demise just minutes ago. The golden and scarlet flames continued to crackled indifferently, the last ray of light in the darkness that had fallen on us all. You swiped your Quidditch- roughen fingers through that incorrigible hair of yours and resumed your dance. A rather unnerving habit that I daresay you picked up after your father. You are so much like your father. Why? Is that because everybody kept telling you so? Why do you have to care so much about others?
"Mr. Potter. If you would kindly stop this ridiculous waltz before you so thoughtfully wear the floor down, thank you very much."
I haven't intended to sound curt or harsh, just a little annoyed, but you glared at me all the same, even as you came to a halt. Well, you know what they all say, about old habits die hard.
Flopping into your favorite armchair, the one directly in front of the Headmaster's, you picked up Albus' silver pipe and idly toyed with it. Right behind the massive oak desk, you could see the grounds, students enjoying the last days of Christmas break, the lake, covered in a thick, translucent blue ice, the Forbidden Forrest, powdered in pure white flakes. Your eyes are faraway; I know what you're thinking. You reminisce of old times, when you were still young, innocent enough that your only worries consisted of the Quidditch Cup and your next scheme to humiliate the Slytherins. A time when you still believed that life at Hogwarts could go on forever, that Dumbledore would without fail keep you safe from harm. Like any sixteen years old should, after all.
I have watched you, more than you knew of. I watched you grow, bathed in fame and its inevitable expectations. I have seen you struggled with the recognition, doing your best to grow up, playing the role of all you wanted to be. Of all they wanted you to be. A role that you didn't, couldn't possibly understand, in a world that is still so new to you. But you've never fought that. You've never questioned this role that you were supposed to play, that they all made you to play. Your fate.
I tried to change the inevitable, you know? I tried to tell you that you didn't have to be the hero, the saviour. That in was unfair for them to crush you under this burden in the name of fame. That you didn't have to try so hard, I'd understand if you failed. You were still just a child. Yet I spoke in vain, you didn't understand. Instead, you hated me for that. And years after years, you ran straight down that path they've foreseen for you. So I was wrong. It is in your destiny to walk down the path of life drown in sorrow, pain, loss; every single crossroads leading you back time and again to the blinding green flash that started it all. No, I don't suppose that the future can be changed after all.
Ours eyes met briefly, you glanced away as if you were afraid that I'd see right through your eyes, see the fear that coated every corner of your soul. But I already knew, and you needn't to be ashamed. I wanted to tell you that it was okay. That it was okay to be weak, to want to runaway and to cry and to scream. Even though there's no one left to hear you anymore, even though you'd still be all alone in your fate. In the end, we all were.
"What will happen now, Professor?"
It was the first time that you've called me professor, showed me any respect as a matter of fact. You talked to me in the same tone you used to address your Headmaster just yesterday. So full respect and trust, and love. Do you respect me as I do you? Or are you so desperate in your loneliness that you would turn to just about anyone for comfort, including your most hated teacher? Do you trust me enough to entrust your life into mine? Me, a converted Death Eater? Or are you just lost, blinded by yet another loved one? Do you love me, Harry?
"I don't know."
I wish that I had a better answer for you. I wish that I could be what Albus had been to you. I wish I could tell you that you had a choice, but fate had already played his hands when he first laid down that Prophecy of his, trapping you with the name of The Boy-Who-Lived.
I wish that I could take you faraway from this cruel reality.
But where will you go?
With no one left to save you from yourself.
You can't escape. You can't abandon them all.
No, You don't want to escape.
You are too bloody Gryffindor for that.
~ Gabe ~ crimson_darknesses@yahoo.ca
AN: It's actually my first Harry Potter fic that I've manage to finish! 0_0 way to go me! Albeit, it's just a short drabble that was inspired by Evanescence's Where Will You Go, hence the title (how unoriginal, I know). I just thought that that song fits Harry so well. There's really no slash, although if you want, you could interpret it that way. I'm aware that it does have potential for a longer fic, but I'm still thinking about it, I guess it'll greatly depend on the readers' opinion.
Please review!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Where Will You Go
You're too important for anyone
you play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You're the one who cries when you're alone
But where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape
You can't escape
You think that I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
But where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't abandon everyone
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
I'm so sick of speaking words that no one understands
Is it clear enough that you can't live your whole life all alone
I can hear you in a whisper
But you can't even hear me screaming
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
*~*~*~*~*~*
A bird.
A caged bird.
At this very moment, confined in the golden and scarlet room of the late Headmaster, pacing back and forth, restless under the unwavering scrutiny of the mute portraits, this was exactly what you reminded me of. A precious nightingale in a gilded cage. Trapped, clipped wings flapping uselessly against your glorious prison. Desperately, yet vainly trying to find a way out. All the while knowing that there was none. I cursed under my breath. Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated with you?
"Mr. Potter."
You walked swiftly past me, ignoring me as if I was a sheer ghost. You paused in front of the elegant fireplace, staring deep into the feeble warmth in which you've seen Professor Dumbledore disappear merely hours ago, from which you've heard his demise just minutes ago. The golden and scarlet flames continued to crackled indifferently, the last ray of light in the darkness that had fallen on us all. You swiped your Quidditch- roughen fingers through that incorrigible hair of yours and resumed your dance. A rather unnerving habit that I daresay you picked up after your father. You are so much like your father. Why? Is that because everybody kept telling you so? Why do you have to care so much about others?
"Mr. Potter. If you would kindly stop this ridiculous waltz before you so thoughtfully wear the floor down, thank you very much."
I haven't intended to sound curt or harsh, just a little annoyed, but you glared at me all the same, even as you came to a halt. Well, you know what they all say, about old habits die hard.
Flopping into your favorite armchair, the one directly in front of the Headmaster's, you picked up Albus' silver pipe and idly toyed with it. Right behind the massive oak desk, you could see the grounds, students enjoying the last days of Christmas break, the lake, covered in a thick, translucent blue ice, the Forbidden Forrest, powdered in pure white flakes. Your eyes are faraway; I know what you're thinking. You reminisce of old times, when you were still young, innocent enough that your only worries consisted of the Quidditch Cup and your next scheme to humiliate the Slytherins. A time when you still believed that life at Hogwarts could go on forever, that Dumbledore would without fail keep you safe from harm. Like any sixteen years old should, after all.
I have watched you, more than you knew of. I watched you grow, bathed in fame and its inevitable expectations. I have seen you struggled with the recognition, doing your best to grow up, playing the role of all you wanted to be. Of all they wanted you to be. A role that you didn't, couldn't possibly understand, in a world that is still so new to you. But you've never fought that. You've never questioned this role that you were supposed to play, that they all made you to play. Your fate.
I tried to change the inevitable, you know? I tried to tell you that you didn't have to be the hero, the saviour. That in was unfair for them to crush you under this burden in the name of fame. That you didn't have to try so hard, I'd understand if you failed. You were still just a child. Yet I spoke in vain, you didn't understand. Instead, you hated me for that. And years after years, you ran straight down that path they've foreseen for you. So I was wrong. It is in your destiny to walk down the path of life drown in sorrow, pain, loss; every single crossroads leading you back time and again to the blinding green flash that started it all. No, I don't suppose that the future can be changed after all.
Ours eyes met briefly, you glanced away as if you were afraid that I'd see right through your eyes, see the fear that coated every corner of your soul. But I already knew, and you needn't to be ashamed. I wanted to tell you that it was okay. That it was okay to be weak, to want to runaway and to cry and to scream. Even though there's no one left to hear you anymore, even though you'd still be all alone in your fate. In the end, we all were.
"What will happen now, Professor?"
It was the first time that you've called me professor, showed me any respect as a matter of fact. You talked to me in the same tone you used to address your Headmaster just yesterday. So full respect and trust, and love. Do you respect me as I do you? Or are you so desperate in your loneliness that you would turn to just about anyone for comfort, including your most hated teacher? Do you trust me enough to entrust your life into mine? Me, a converted Death Eater? Or are you just lost, blinded by yet another loved one? Do you love me, Harry?
"I don't know."
I wish that I had a better answer for you. I wish that I could be what Albus had been to you. I wish I could tell you that you had a choice, but fate had already played his hands when he first laid down that Prophecy of his, trapping you with the name of The Boy-Who-Lived.
I wish that I could take you faraway from this cruel reality.
But where will you go?
With no one left to save you from yourself.
You can't escape. You can't abandon them all.
No, You don't want to escape.
You are too bloody Gryffindor for that.
~ Gabe ~ crimson_darknesses@yahoo.ca