The Balance of Power
By HevenSentHellBroken
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did Draco would be hot and not so pathetically weak, Harry would grow UP, Dumbledor would be exposed as a manipulator, Sirius wouldn't have died, and a whole bunch of stuff would be very, very different. But I don't. So I read and write fanfics. sighs OH! And if you steel my stuff I will bite you! Hard! It'll hurt! Then I'll send rabid fangirls after you and tell them you have possession of whatever their obsession is! You'll be scared! I promise: p
Harry sat and stared out his window. He had graduated sometime in the past. It was all a blur of fighting and surviving. He sat with his journal open. The journal he pored his soul into. The journal that would later tell of how the brightest light of Good twisted and bent under the weight of his responsibility. The journal that would tell of how he finally broke. His spidery handwriting covered the parchment. The open page read:
"I am good. But I have killed.
Voldermort is evil, but can be so kind.
I fight for my ideals.
Voldermort does the same.
Who determines what's right and what's wrong? It's not instinctive, that's for sure. It's instinctive to kill. Even the nicest and meekest person you meet would kill for one reason or another. Even Neville killed. So what is the determining factor of write and wrong?
Over the years, I've fought Voldermort many, many times. I know him as well as I know myself. And yet I still surprise myself. And yet he still surprises me. Voldermort has threatened me, killed my friends and allies, tried to kill me, hell, he even tried to seduce me. But we always fight, and if I don't get away we always draw. We hang in a sort of balance.
Maybe that's it. Balance. Maybe neither good or evil are supposed to win this seemingly endless war. Perhaps we need war. War brings structure to society, just look at the Ministry. After Fudge died, it cleaned up. Became actually competent! The chaos of war brings order. And the most noble of human acts comes in war. All the virtues of songs and lore come true in war. Peace brings stagnation; war mixes the chaos- brings advancements. Look at medi-magic! Its come so far in curing illnesses. You have to be healthy in order to fight Death Eaters. So eat your spinach and grow up strong little child. Ha!
Perhaps… Maybe… maybe there can be no good without evil. No Light without Dark to contrast it. No purity without filth. Because if you have an overabundance of one thing, then don't you know nothing else?
So, if it's balanced, why fight? It'll all even out in the end. Why do I have to be the Chosen one. Chosen by Voldermort to kill Voldermot. Irony's a bitch- like Fate.
The pathetic thing is I have to fight. I can't stop. Can't rest. Always fighting. I'm so tired, but I can't stop until the bastard's dead. A man in his twenties fighting a man in his seventies, shouldn't Voldermort just be old and have grandchildren by now? But then again, I can't see that snake-like bastard being the grandfatherly type. "Eat all your vegetables or I'll Avera Kadavera you!" Ha Ha. That'd put the fear of Merlin into some kid.
If everything's balanced… and we keep fighting… someone's eventually going to win. Maybe ol' Tommy'll just keel over of old age. But Dumbledor's in his hundred something's…. Or was until Voldermot killed him. So no hope there.
Hope. That's something I haven't had for a while… and I'm not sure I'll ever have it again."
A/N: Ello! This is one of the few fanfics I've written, and one of erm… I think this is the second one I've posted. Don't look for the first one… I think I took it off.
My English teacher has us writing 200 word compositions for homework every night. But I have English after lunch. So this plot bunny bit me, and I ended jotting this down got a 95 on it too. 'course it's a bit longer here. But Hey… That's what authoresses do!
Review! I want feedback! PLEASE! I'll give you… erm… dumps out purse three sticks of gum and a quarter. Or maybe candy… candy and cookies!