Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe, characters, etc. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am getting no monetary reward, nor any reward at all but for my satisfaction with a job well done, for sitting on my embarrassingly flat ass all day and rewriting this fic, and nor do I intend any copyright infringement. I suppose this has spoilers for books 1-5. This is the first fanfic I ever scrounged up the courage to post, now edited, so please feel free to flame to your heart's content. Any mistakes should be being fixed, but if I missed anything just let me know.
Summary: '"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Yet to have no dreams was to lead a life unworthy of living.' When monsters haunt your every waking moment and shadow your every step, you must learn to live one step ahead of them. Harry/Ginny.
A/N: The lyrics to my song were inspired by the Greek and/or Roman myth (I can't quite recall) of Prometheus being sentenced to be chained to a mountain top and pecked at by vultures for eternity for giving the gift of fire to man. It was, apparently, thought that man would abuse this gift given to him. The gift of fire, however, seems to be one of the few gifts that man does not, for the most part, abuse, as through trial and error humans have realized the damage that fire can inflict. So please, light a candle in honor of Prometheus tonight and I will do the same.
This is an edited and renamed version of my fic Monsters. I assure you that this is much better than the original writings, though still not up to par with some of the fics I've written more recently, as this was the first fanfic that I had ever posted on a website. My grammar and writing style when I initially posted this was rather... awful, to be quite frank. Also, as a warning, this is a Harry/Ginny fic, with a lot of Ron/Hermione too.
The original of this fic was written/posted between 12/19/03 and 12/20/03.
The Truth in Monsters – Chapter 1, My Monsters
I'm chained to a monster; chained by this lightning bolt shaped curse scar that seems to be the root of all my problems. Actually, I'm chained by many monsters. I'm chained to Voldemort, my fame, my past. I want to forget that any of this has ever happened. I want to go where nobody knows my name. I want this all to be a bad dream, and to wake up in my cupboard under the stairs; shivering from the cold of a winter night or roasting in the heat of summer, perhaps, but waking from a nightmare all the same. I wish fervently that this was all a distant memory of some past life, or that I'm just remembering some story from a book that my parents used to read to me. I'm chained by my monsters, however; demons inner and outer. I'm kept held in check by guilt, regret, hope, and a great deal of other emotions that I could never begin to explain.
"I'm chained to the mountain top
The vultures peck at my abdomen,
But I won't make them stop"
Everywhere I go, death and destruction follows. Yes, Voldemort will chase me until I die or stand to fight him. I won't win. I've given up trying to love anyone, or to even try to figure out what love is. I'm not allowed to love, you see, or to fight. I'm just an idiotic, ignorant, daft little boy that was created to carry the hopes and dreams of the world on his shoulders and not fold under the pressure. Obviously, I must be malfunctioning, as I am most definitely folding under the pressure placed upon me. I'm supposed to be a saviour, a bloody Jesus, but I'm just a kid whose life was turned upside down and I'm supposed to accept it. I guess I knew, deep down, that I would end up fighting Voldemort someday, but I didn't expect to be the only one who could defeat him. Professor Dumbledore would be the one to destroy – because "kill" is so unpleasant a term, especially when that's what you're doing – Voldemort, I had always thought. I'm just a teenager still; or I'm trying to be. It's sort of hard to be a teenager in the middle of a war. How did I get landed with this job? Tom won't stop 'til one of us is dead; that's a fact. He'll kill anyone and everyone to get to me. Is he that afraid of death, the eventual but inevitable outcome for all?
Does Voldemort hate his father that much? Does he hate his father so much that he would kill those innocent of all but being like his Muggle father in the regard that they couldn't do magic? Was Tom, Voldemort, so hateful of his father that he would kill those that came from the blood of Muggles out of spite for a man long deceased?
Does he hate me that much? I don't doubt it. I wish I could talk to him; you know, discuss his past. I'd like to find ou where I went right and he went wrong. Or would it be the other way around? My friends don't know what I think anymore. Hell, I don't even know what I think anymore! Why do I have to be the only thing standing in his way? Now I'm being selfish, though. I know the answer to that. No one deserves to have happen to them what's happened to me. In the end, there's no one but myself to blame; for Sirius, Cedric, and my parents' deaths, Remus' loneliness, Tonks' pain, Professor Dumbledore's guilt, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's fear, 'Mione and Ron's confusion, Percy's lack of faith. Yes, I'm the cause of all this. I'm the cause of the rising Second War against Voldemort, but I won't deny it.
Doesn't mean I'm any proud of myself, that I could cause so much chaos.
"I bring fire,
Death, destruction
This is why I'm
Being punished"
I never really realized how selfish I've been being lately. I've never thought of the consequences of my actions, either. Aren't I supposed to just know the answers? That's what everyone else expects. I'm just sixteen, for God's sake! I'm not a saviour; I'm a little boy! I don't have the answers, and I certainly don't know how to fight the most dangerous Dark Lord in current history!
I guess it's too much to ask to be normal, though. To be normal is all I've ever really wanted in my life, except perhaps for the fleeting fancy of an orphan boy to have a loving family. I'm selfish, I know, for wanting something so unobtainable to me as that. I want a family, happiness, peace, maybe just a bit of understanding, and love. That's a lot to ask for, but I can't help it. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Yet to have no dreams was to lead a life unworthy of living.
I know now why we can't tell Muggles about our world. They'd want us to magic things like that for them; that is, the dead back to life and similar such things. I'd know. I want to magic those things myself, sometimes. I want to just wave my wand, speak a silly little Latin word or phrase, and raise my parents, Sirius, Cedric, and all the other dead from the war, from their graves. That's impossible, though. Even magic has it's limits. You can't grow up to be whatever you want to be, as Aunt Petunia had once told Dudley when he was young and had wanted to be a falcon when he grew up. You can't bring back that which is lost. You could only get a new one and hope that it was as good as the last. The only way to ease the pain of loss was to lose more, so that the pain of the old loss faded to the background; but I don't want to lose anyone else, damn it! I don't want to fight in a war! I want to be a bloody sixteen years old for once!
That seems too much to ask for.
"I don't want to lose,
I don't want to fight
I have given up,
I'll be selfish 'til I know what's right"
I don't have time to be selfish; to think of myself. I have a war to fight. I have to fight my monsters and win, and I have to do this as soon as possible. You know, I wonder how I'll see Tom in the final battle. Will it be as a monster to be destroyed, or a person to be pitied? If I see him as a monster, I suppose I'll kill him out of disgust. If I see him as a mortal man, someone to be pitied, I'll probably kill him out of sympathy. Or he'll kill me first; the most likely out of all scenarios. I have to fight a war, but I don't think that I have the energy left anymore. Someone once told me that I'm well beyond my years, and that someday my bones would grow weary of premature aging. Now I know what they meant.
"I'm chained to the mountain top
The vultures peck at my abdomen,
But I won't make them stop"
So, if I'm too tired to fight, who will take my place? Yet they don't care that I don't want to fight. I'm the saviour, remember? Fine. The people want a saviour? A saviour is what you'll get. You'll never get Harry back, though. By the end of this war, I doubt that I'll even remember who Harry is anymore. I won't be the Harry that you remember. I won't be the Harry that I remember. I'll be gone, and you'll never get me back.
"I'll be what you want me to be
I'll be strong, I'll be weak"
I'll be what you've shaped me into.
"I'm chained to the mountain top
The vultures peck at my abdomen,
But I won't make them stop"
Just remember; once the clay has dried, there's no shaping it again.
Thus ends the first chapter of The Truth in Monsters.