Chapter 1 : Whispers
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 3|
Background: Font color:
Disclaimer: All characters are copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. ‘Whisper’ is performed by the group Evanescence and was written by B. Moody/ A. Lee/ D. Hodges/ R. Gray.
Emerald green eyes outlined with black rimmed glasses gazed back at him in the mirror. Long slender hands reached up to black, raven hair trying to smooth down the stray bits of hair. The figure sighed as his hands brushed against his bangs, revealing the ugly scar on his forehead. Seventeen year old Harry Potter sighed loudly, as he straightened out his black robes wanting to look perfect for the day ahead.
Today was his very last day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a few minutes he would join his peers down in the Quidditch pitch to celebrate their graduation with friends and family. Even though Harry had friends outside the school, he wouldn’t be there with his family. His mother and father had been dead for over seventeen years missing everything from his first word, to his first time on a broomstick and now they would miss his coming of age into the wizarding world. They would miss his graduation.
But he did have a family. He had his two best friends, Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger. They were all the family he needed. But then there was the tiny voice in the back of his mind, the very small one that told him that no matter how hard he tried to believe, Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be the family he truly wanted.
He wanted somebody to be there, to help him through all his troubles and fears, wanted somebody to be there so badly, if he should fail, if he should fall. ‘But,’ he thought to himself as he straightened his scarlet and gold tie his lips turning downward into an all too familiar frown, ‘no one can be here for me, I’m all by myself.’ Indeed he was thinking about why he was spared, that one, horrible night almost eighteen years ago. He was the only person in the entire world to survive one of Voldemort’s attacks and with that truth; he was utterly and completely alone. He couldn’t talk to anybody about it; they wouldn’t understand because they had never survived the Killing Curse. He was alone, all because of that stupid prophecy.
Catch me as I fall
Say you’re here and it’s all over now
Speaking to the atmosphere
No one’s here and I fall into myself
That damned prophecy. Because of that cursed prediction his parents were taken away from him and he would have to fulfill his destiny, even if it meant his death. He hated it, and many times he had sat up until the sun poked up from the east, signaling a new day, and wondered why him? Why did he have to save the entire wizard world from the most feared Dark Lord in wizard history? Why was he chosen? He never wanted it, and yet here he was a damned scar on his forehead, broadcasted to the entire magic world that he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Because of that lightening shaped scar he was the most famous young wizard ever, he would be the savior to the wizarding world, he alone would vanquish Lord Voldemort and he would return in victory, everyone praising him. The only thing he wanted was to be a normal kid.
He wished with everything inside him he could just be normal and not have people staring at his forehead every time his name was mentioned. He didn’t want to think about the prophecy, knowing that either he or Lord Voldemort would survive the final battle. He never wanted to spend those extra hours in the school library looking up every curse and counter-curse so he could be prepared when the final battle was ready to be fought. He just wanted to be able to joke around with his friends and to raise a ruckus in the school like his father did back in his school days.
Harry wondered what it was like to not have to worry everyday that a Death Eater would jump out and take him to Lord Voldemort to be tortured and killed. He wondered what it was like to be normal, to only have to worry about his N.E.W.T.S. or a crush on a girl, or worrying about how he was going to pass his potions final. But he had so much to worry about; it wasn’t about school or his social status anymore. It was about the lives of innocent witches and wizards around the world. He had the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders, and he wasn’t even eighteen yet. And it was all because of the damn prophecy. But the prophecy was true, it would always be true and it drove Harry insane that he would have to fulfill this prophecy in order to restore balance to the wizard world.
This truth drives me into madness
When Harry actually thought about it, when he sat down and thought extremely hard about what he had to do, an immense pain filled him. It was a pain so intense that it sometimes rivaled the feelings he got in his scar whenever Voldemort was feeling strong emotions. It was the pain of knowing that he would die an early death. He probably wouldn’t survive Voldemort’s assails. The Dark Lord would continue to live on, to strike fear and horror into wizards and muggles alike.
Harry could see it now, the remaining magic folk in hiding, scorning his failure, ridiculing the Boy-Who-Lived and how he was too weak to stop Voldemort. How they were now living in fear, Voldemort killing all in his path until only he was the ruler of the wizarding world. They would disrespect Harry’s name, his parents’ name. They would call him a failure, a letdown, a coward, and there were far too many names to think of when it came to Harry’s attempt to overthrow the Dark Lord.
There was one way Harry could escape it all. He could run away, he could leave the wizard world and never return, let someone like Dumbledore or the Order take care of Voldemort. He was only seventeen; he had seen so much death before he was even a fully grown adult. He watched his godfather die in his fifth year, and it was his entire fault; he was the cause of so many deaths, all because Voldemort wanted him, wanted to rid Harry so he could gain total control of the Ministry of Magic, to rid all the mudbloods from the wizarding world.
Harry could run away and become a muggle in hiding. He would put away his wand and never have to deal with Dark Lords and the deaths of his friends and family ever again. He could start over and he wouldn’t be the Boy-Who-Lived anymore. He could be the Boy-Who-Once-Lived. The pain would stop he would be happy and free again he could worry about the simple things: girls and homework not death and what would happen if he failed to stop it. He could stop it.
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away
But then there was the stronger voice in his head, the voice that helped him through so many hells, and the voice that wouldn’t allow him to give up. Harry hated that voice, it seemed so much easier to just give up, listening to the tiny voice inside him to turn away and never look back.
Harry wanted to give in, to turn away. He was sick and tired of being in the middle of attention; he wanted to hide, to be rid of it. He wanted to give into the pain. . . he knew he was going to die an early death, he probably wouldn’t even see his nineteenth birthday, it seemed that much easier to know that he was going to die, helped him deal with the prophecy to deal with the truth that was driving him mad.
He didn’t want to deal with his unwanted fame, the fame he had never asked for but was dumped upon him before he could even talk. He was tired of being asked for pictures and autographs, tired of the sympathetic looks people gave him because they knew he would have to die. He was sick and damned tired of people screaming out his name in the hallways or in Diagon Alley after he had done something they deemed ‘heroic’ over the summer. He wanted to close his eyes and travel to his alternate universe where he wasn’t the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Boy-Who-Never-Lived. He wanted to be the boy who could lead a normal life.
Don’t turn away
Don’t give in to the pain
Don’t try to hide
Though they’re screaming your name
But he could never close his eyes and think about his alternate universe. Every time he dreamed or slipped off into his day dreams, the blinding flash of green light and the sudden rushing sound attacked him and those he loved. He wanted to close his eyes in sleep and dream about normal things. Even though the normal things wouldn’t happen in his real life, they could come true in his dreams. But he found it wasn’t true. He couldn’t dream happy dreams anymore. It was impossible. It was only death and destruction that waited for him as soon as he closed his eyes.
Harry had stopped telling even Ron and Hermione about his dreams. He felt that if he revealed to them that he kept having reoccurring dreams of them falling dead before his eyes, they would abandon them. And he didn’t know what the hell he would do if he were without his friends.
Don’t close your eyes
God knows what lies behind them
One time, when Harry was in his darkest hour, he thought about taking the own light from himself. It would seem so much easier if he took his own life. That way, wizards and witches would accuse him of being stupid than accuse him of failing to rid the world of Voldemort. He wanted to do it so terribly that it scared him deeply. Even when he reached for his wand, to blow himself to smithereens he could only think of his friends and family and what they would do if he took his life. How sad they would be when they found out famous Harry Potter was dead. He knew it would shock the entire wizarding world, and he would leave them without any hope. They would live in fear now that the Boy-Who-Lived was gone. Voldemort had nothing to fear if Harry was out of the picture. And Harry couldn’t do that to his friends he couldn’t do it to the people who loved him. He couldn’t leave them without any hope.
Harry sighed deeply to himself before he put on his trainers and took one last look at the dormitory he had shared with his four friends during the past seven years. He was going to miss it terribly.
Don’t turn out the light
Never sleep never die
Hermione Granger watched as her best friend of seven years, walk slowly down the dormitory steps. She could feel a slight gripping sensation in her stomach when she saw his face. He was so grim and serious even though it was supposed to be an extremely happy day. They were about to be sent into the grand world of wizards and witches! But Hermione knew what few people didn’t know. She knew about Harry and his prophecy, the damn prophecy that claimed either he or his archenemy would perish in the end.
Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Hermione knew exactly what that gripping sensation in her stomach was. It was fear. She was frightened by Harry’s emotions, by his actions. He had gotten much more serious during their seventh year knowing that the inevitable was approaching him. He knew he was going to face death for the sixth time in his short seventeen years of existence. And maybe this time, he wouldn’t walk away unscathed.
She watched as Harry was surrounded by his fellow seventh year Gryffindors, all of them bubbling with excitement and all of them telling Harry what an inspiration he was to them, what a great friend he had become to each of them during their stay at Hogwarts. Hermione watched as Harry gave them a forced smile and he began to talk to them in an equally forced excited voice.
His face had become gaunter due to lack of appetite during the last few months. His brilliant emerald green eyes didn’t hold the same shine as they did in their first four years at school. His black hair had almost given up its battle with its owner; it was now hanging limply on his head, the shimmer gone from his raven hair, now only a dull black shell occupied the top of his head. It almost looked like Harry had lost the will to live.
But Hermione knew there was more to come. She knew the final battle was approaching. Even though they didn’t show it; the rest of the students looked equally tense about Voldemort’s gathering forces. They used their forced façade to reassure Harry that they thought he would survive the terrible battle that he would have to face.
Hermione knew the trials and tribulations that faced Harry in the upcoming months and they were going to be more horrendous than anything he had ever been through. She knew he would have to face so many evil and devious things in order to survive and he would have to survive so much more than that.
I’m frightened by what I see
But somehow I know that there’s much more to come
Hermione wanted to help Harry with all her might; she wanted to help Harry face Voldemort. Nobody, whether they were good or evil, deserved to face that evil thing alone. But there was the fear that stuck Hermione to the ground the fear of leaving her friends and family for forever. She didn’t want to die, not so soon and she pitied Harry above all others. Harry had it set in his mind that he was going to die. He walked around everyday as if it were his last day on the earth and Hermione couldn’t stand it.
She couldn’t stand to see her friend, her best friend waste away in front of her eyes. She couldn’t stand to watch Harry think that the only thing he was good for, the only reason why he was living was because he had to fulfill his destiny. He had to die in order for the world to be saved. And Hermione hated the way everybody accepted the fact that Harry would have to be killed in order to save the wizarding world. Couldn’t they accept that fact that Harry was only seventeen years old? The only thing a seventeen year old wizard should be worried about is finding a place to stay and trying to find a job. A seventeen year old wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his death or how he was supposed to be a savior to every magical man, woman, and child that walked the earth. No seventeen year old should ever be made to think that.
But then there was the one fear that nobody knew about. The one fear that made her heart stop with fear and panic. Hermione’s greatest fear: The fear of losing Harry. The fear that she would never get the chance to tell Harry how she really felt about him about how she had liked him ever since the third year. The thought about not being able to tell Harry how she really felt about him, to have him come back to her, dead and cold was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She didn’t want him to die, she would rather face Voldemort herself than ever let Harry feel another ounce of pain or fear again.
Harry looked over at her quickly and offered her a bright, genuine smile. It was one of the first real smiles she had seen in quite a while. She didn’t want it to be the last time she saw that smile. Hermione didn’t know what she would do if she lost Harry, if she could never see him again. It hurt her immensely and she could feel the tears welling up inside her. She could feel her sadness and she hated it.
She realized that Harry would probably never stop feeling the pain inside him the pain of him dying at such a young age the pain of not being able to live a full and meaningful life. Hermione wished with all her heart that she could stop his pain, to make it go away to make him realize that he wasn’t just the savior to the entire wizarding world, but just a seventeen year old boy. A seventeen year old boy she was in love with.
Immobilized by my fear
And soon to be blinded by tears
I can stop the pain if I will it all the way
Their eyes met again and Hermione smiled at him trying to feed some of the joy and happiness through their eye contact. Harry returned her smile before his face became dark again, his thoughts on the task he would have to face. Hermione didn’t want his eyes to leave hers. She didn’t want him to give into the pain, the knowing, and the damn prophecy. She didn’t want him to hide from her anymore. Hermione didn’t want him to hide from the world just because he was their savior. She wanted him to enjoy his life, wanted him to be able to be a normal teenager, before. . .
Don’t turn away
Don’t give in to the pain
Don’t try to hide
“Harry Potter over here!”
Hermione scowled deeply as they made their way onto the Quidditch pitch, about one hundred chairs set up in the middle of the field. Hermione took her place in between Harry and Ron offering each of them a smile of congratulations. The reporters were flashing their cameras in their direction, hoping to catch a shot of the famous boy wizard who was going to meet his destiny in a few months’ time. Hermione watched as Harry closed his eyes, trying to escape the screaming of his name. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder when he winced with pain and anger at the images in his mind.
Hermione didn’t even want to think about the images he saw in his mind. There were so many deaths he witnessed. His parents, Lily and James Potter, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Neville Longbottom, and Bill Weasly, Harry was there during all of their deaths and she could tell he kept thinking to himself, ‘Why me? Why didn’t he kill me? Why did all these innocent people have to die because of me?’
Though they’re screaming your name
Don’t close your eyes
God knows what lies behind them
But Hermione knew she would have to invite the inevitable, she knew he would die. If not this year than the next, the damn prophecy would have to be fulfilled but she knew she couldn’t give up hope. Even though Voldemort’s forces had exceeded the ten thousand mark, Hermione couldn’t let hope slip from her fingers. There was a chance that Harry could survive, that Harry could escape the Dark Lord, killing him once and for all. Hermione knew that she would have to tell him eventually, if she didn’t and something happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
She couldn’t let her light of hope be extinguished by darkness, she couldn’t let it sleep. Even if it slept it could slip through her fingertips. Most of all, Hermione couldn’t let her hope die. If it did all was lost.
Don’t turn out the light
Never sleep never die
Harry’s eyes were still closed as the ceremony began, Dumbledore offering the opening speech as the students and families clapped politely. But Harry couldn’t see Dumbledore, or the small stage he was standing on, he couldn’t see the Weasly family or the Granger family. All he could see where those who had died for him, or died because they were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.
They were sitting at his feet and Harry felt like some sort of deity, a deity that wasn’t worthy to be shown adulation. They were fallen angles. Angles to Harry in real life, but now they were dead, they were dead and they were at his feet, whispering to him.
“It isn’t your fault Harry, please don’t give up,” his mother whispered to him, her green eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t beat yourself up over my death, it wasn’t your fault,” Cedric said in an undertone voice.
“Harry, don’t blame yourself for my death, it wasn’t your fault. You know I’ll always be there for you,” Sirius Black explained in a soft spoken voice. Harry looked at his godfather and shook his head sadly. It was his fault.
“Harry, you know you’ll beat him. Don’t be upset over my death, I’m alright I promise. It’s quite nice I don’t forget things anymore!” Neville Longbottom said in a rather excited voice. ‘Probably trying to get me to feel better about myself,’ Harry thought to himself.
“You know I’d have followed you to the last battle, Harry. My family doesn’t blame you; don’t even let yourself think that. You can’t blame yourself for the actions of other people!” Bill Weasly said hurriedly, his fang earring swinging around in an imaginary breeze.
They were telling him it wasn’t his fault. But he knew it wasn’t true. It was all his fault. His fault his parents died, if Voldemort hadn’t found out about the prophecy, his parents would be sitting in the stands watching his graduation. It was his fault that he encouraged Cedric Diggory to tie with him in the Triwizard World Cup, his fault that Voldemort wanted him that night, wanted him to bring him back to his body. Cedric was the spare, Voldemort had said it himself. He told, Wormtail to ‘Kill the Spare’ as if Cedric were just an extra bit of food or laundry. It was Harry’s fault the Diggory family didn’t have a son to watch grow into a wonderful young man. It was his fault.
Then there was Sirius Black. Harry’s godfather and mentor through the end of his third year and to the end of his fifth year. Sirius had died trying to protect Harry, just like his parents had died. If Harry hadn’t jumped to conclusions that night, Sirius would be sitting in the stands with Remus Lupin, reminiscing their own Hogwarts graduation. Neville Longbottom though, was one of the hardest deaths Harry had to cope with. Neville had followed Harry to the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, hoping to help Harry seek revenge on Voldemort. It was Voldemort’s fault that Neville’s parents were in St. Mungo’s hospital. He had them tortured until they went completely insane. Voldemort had killed the forgetful boy straight away before Harry could even yell out a curse or shield to protect the young wizard. It was even Harry who had to tell his parents at St. Mungo’s that Neville had been killed. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were so lost inside themselves they didn’t even remember they had a son.
And then Harry failed to save Bill Weasly from a grisly death. Harry knew Voldemort was planning an attack on all the Gringott banks in the wizarding world. He had been having dreams about them his entire seventh year. He failed to tell anyone about his recurring, vivid dreams. In the end, he found himself at Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley, trying to head Voldemort off but he was too late. He was just torturing and killing Bill Weasly when Harry arrived at the bank. It was Harry’s complete fault that the Weasly’s were without their oldest and most promising son. He remembered Ron’s face when he learned about his brother’s death. Harry’s best friend had been devastated for months and it was right before Christmas time as well when Bill was taken from his family. And if Harry hadn’t been so damn noble, Bill’s death could have been prevented.
There were so many times that Harry had witnessed death with his own two eyes. He was sick and tired of seeing people he loved dying for him or for the fight to help him defeat Voldemort. He didn’t want anymore help. He wanted to fight Voldemort alone so wizarding families wouldn’t be without fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, or sisters ever again. He didn’t want families destroyed because of his battle with Voldemort. He didn’t want to witness another death ever again.
Fallen angles at my feet
Whispered voices at my ear
Death before my eyes
But there was the one vision he was having lately and it sent shivers up his spine just to think about it. He kept seeing himself, lying dead on charred earth, his face deathly pale. But the thing that frightened him the most was the people lying next to him. He could see Ron and Hermione, both dead, flanking his sides on the cold ground. He could see all the people he loved, dead and gone all because they wanted to help him. He wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow it.
Lying next to me I fear
Harry opened his eyes when he heard somebody sit down hard next to him. He looked over and saw Hermione, holding a thick parchment that signified her crossing over into the wizarding world. She was beaming brightly as she held up her diploma and she called Harry closer to her. She smiled shyly before she planted a firm kiss on his lips.
“I-I-love you,” she said shyly, her face becoming a beet red. Harry looked at her in amazement, surprised she would do something so daring and yet surprised that she actually loved him. Harry was even more confused than before. He didn’t know if he should return her affections, everybody he had ever shown affection for had died along side him or had died without him. He didn’t want Hermione to die because quite frankly, he cared about her too. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if something happened to her.
She beckons me shall I give in
Harry’s life as going to end so shortly, he could feel it inside him he knew he was going to be defeated. Should he really give Hermione his love when his life was about to end, her life just beginning? Should he begin to love even though his life was going to be snuffed out like a candle in the wind? Harry smiled back and grasped Hermione’s hand, squeezing it tightly. She smiled at him once more and she proceeded to show him her diploma.
Upon my end shall I begin
“Potter, Harry!” Professor McGonagall cried out over the Quidditch pitch, the entire stadium going into a quiet hush. Harry sat there for a moment thinking hard about something.
He had been safe for seventeen years within the walls of the Dursley’s home and he had been out of harm's way during his seven years at Hogwarts. Harry looked up at the diploma Professor Dumbledore was holding and he could feel himself shivering. If he took the diploma, it would symbolize his acceptance that he was going to die. If he turned around and ran away, he could repeat his seventh year over and over again, he could be safe within Hogwart’s well protected walls and grounds, and he wouldn’t have to face Voldemort if he stayed at Hogwarts. It was almost like the diploma was Lord Voldemort, daring him to accept his fate, provoking him, sneering that he was nothing but a coward.
Harry could turn around and walk away from his death, he could run away and never come back, he could run away with Hermione and they could live as muggles, they could be safe.
But when Harry closed his eyes, he could see the fallen angles. He was the reason they were fallen angles and he couldn’t turn his back on them. Not when he was able to avenge their murderers, even if it meant that he would die in the process.
Slowly and silently, hands shaking, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, stood up and walked up the aisle towards the stage, accepting his fate, forgetting the fact that he could leave and never return, Harry Potter received his diploma and sealed his fate.
Forsaking all I’ve fallen for I rise to meet the end
So what did you guys think? I’m sorry if it was stupid but it was my first Harry Potter Song Fic! But even if you did hate it, review anyway!
Other Similar Stories
A Cat's Eye View
Of Pixies an...