Topic 1 ~ War, what is it good for?

[WhittyLeah]

Welcome to the first drabble thread in Remus's Reflections. This is the place you post drabbles about the topic posted. The topic is something both important and significant to the world around us and to the Harry Potter-verse.

Please keep drabbles under a PG-13 rating and remember that everyone doesn't have the same views, so be respectful.

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If you wish to respond to a drabble in this thread use this form:

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Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author)
Why? (what inspired you to respond to it, what did you like most about it, etc)
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This thread's topic is: War.

Happy drabbling!

[Laurskii]

Name: Laurskii
House: Slytherin
Title: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
Warnings: Angstiness, mention of Character Death
Word count: 500 exactly-- I had to cut some.

F.Y.I. "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" is a song from the musical Les Miserables, and is the song from which the quotes in italics come from. I do not pretend to have made this song up/own it in any way.


There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.

The doors creak open, and he enters the room. The long Hall expands before him, drabbed in black and littered with a sprinkling of people, all silent. They watch as he moves slowly up the center aisle, looking straight ahead, ignoring those around him. He is a marked man, and those standing move swiftly out of his way.

Here they talked of revolution.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about `tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.

As he makes his way to where the High Tables once stood, he studies the coffins that now lie there. His friends’ faces gleam fresh in his mind, their voices echoing in his memories, and Harry Potter feels tears stinging his eyes. 'They’d planned so much, and for what purpose, so he could spend the remainder of his days mourning the cold irony of the world?'

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lonely barricade at dawn.


As he approaches, his pace slows, and he finds himself staring at the Gryffindor table. He can still see them.

“Harry, come over here! I think we’ve got it!” Hermione waves him over, her bright eyes glistened in his mind.

“Yeah mate, get your arse over here. You won’t believe this!” Ron shouts, grinning widely.

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.

Harry stops walking as Ginny enters his mind. Her smile falters a moment, concern in her hazel eyes, and she, too, waves him over. Her red hair falls to her face, and Harry feels the urge to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her. He begins to walk towards their table.

Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.

He comes closer, and he can see his friends are not alone. Neville holds Trevor from beside Ron, and Fred Weasley winks at Harry from behind Ginny. Sirius, Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley, his parents… they all wave at him, beckoning him closer. He smiles. Ginny begins running towards him, shouting. “Harry, we won! We won, Harry!” But as he opens his arms to hug her, she disappears, and Harry’s arms drop painfully to his sides. The chairs at the table are empty now, and he crumbles to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers to them, aching inside. “I’m sorry,” he says, but they’ve already gone.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.


Mithril Says: 5 points to Slytherin. I was just talking to some of the mods about how songfics are usually badly written, but you've done this beautifully!

[Sly Severus]

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Title: What For?
Warnings: Character Death
Word count: 241

Sitting alone in the dark, she contemplated all that she had lost. Her family was gone—lost to hatred and violence. The war against Voldemort had been fought and won, but there were no real winners. There were never any real winners in a war. There was only loss.

This was something Andromeda had always understood. She understood it as a child, when her sisters had fought with every non-pure blooded student in Hogwarts. She couldn’t understand why they would bother. There was nothing to be gained. In the end, the student’s feelings were hurt and her sisters looked cruel. Nothing could be gained from that.

She understood that war was wrong when she picked up a paper and learned that her sister was in prison. Bellatrix had turned Death Eater, after all. She was sentenced to spend the remainder of her life in Azkaban, and what for?

She had understood that war was wrong when her own daughter went off to fight. She remembered begging Nymphadora to avoid the war. Her daughter hadn’t listened. Like Bella, she was warrior. She wanted to fight. Still Andromeda could not understand why.

As the war progressed and each of her family members died at the end of a wand, Andromeda continued to struggle. She mourned her family, even those who had refused to speak to her in years. But deep down, she always wondered what they died for—why they chose to die.


5 points to Slytherin, interesting that you compare Tonks and Bella!

[Cheshlin]

Name: Cheshlin
House:Slytherin
Title: Worth Dieing For
Warnings: mention of characters death
Word count: 380

Remus looked at the gloomy, miserable young adults sitting on the couch. The war was really starting to pick up, and losses were taking their toll. Sighing, he walked in and took a seat in a chair across from them.

“Anyone need a listening ear? I know that Charlie will be missed, but unfortunately death is part of war.” Remus softly said.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all looked up with listless eyes. Harry was the first to respond. “It just seems that we are fighting a loosing battle. If we just stood back and let Voldemort have his way, fewer lives would be taken.”

Remus studied them for a moment before replying. “Would there? Voldemort’s goal is to rule with absolute power. He wants to enslave the Muggles and pull all rights from Muggleborn witches and wizards. With no one to stop him, he would go on a killing spree worse then anything you could imagine. Sometimes a fight is needed to protect the rights and freedom we have always taken for granted.”

Four faces stared at him in shock.

Hermione’s listless eyes turned inward, and Remus knew she was going through what she had read. “Remus is correct. I was reading a book about the Salem Witch Trials. Most of the people that were actually killed during that time were just eccentric Muggles that didn’t conform to the religious views that most of the populace held at that time. If the real wizards and witches hadn’t fought against the injustice by going undercover then many more would have been killed.”

“It is just hard to keep your spirits up when those you care about keep dieing in the fight.” Ginny added, but with a new light in her eyes.

“That is when we have to fight even harder. We can’t let our loss be our defeat!” Harry said with passion. “If we do, then those that have died did so in vain. Mom, Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, Cedric, and now Charlie are just a few of those we have loss. We have to carry on their battle to protect those that can’t protect themselves.”

Remus smiled at the younger people with pride. “I knew you just needed reminded about what was important. Some things are just worth dieing for.”


Three points to Slytherin, just because I don't think I've ever awarded them in less than fives! lol!

[Cwiddy]

Name: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Finding Courage
Warnings: Character Death Mentioned
Word count: 291

Ginny sat there, quietly sobbing, trying not to allow her fear to totally destroy her. People were dying around her. She was hidden under a desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. Ginny had thought that maybe this would get easier after the losses she’d already suffered, Sirius, Dumbledore, and more recently her brothers, Charlie and Percy. Now she was at Hogwarts watching the Death Eaters kill her fellow students, at least those that were brave enough to try to defend themselves.

Just then Ginny felt a hand on her shoulder, and jumped to her feet, her wand ready to send a jinx at the person behind her.

“Shhh, it’s me, put your wand down” whispered Nymphadora Tonks who was kneeling there at Ginny’s side. “Lets get you out of here to safety; your mother is worried sick about you, as is everyone else in your family!”

Just then, outside the classroom door that Ginny was now facing she saw Luna Lovegood run past, a Death Eater right behind her.

Ginny raised her wand, running past Tonks to aim a Bat Bogey Hex at the Death Eater’s back.

“I’m sorry Tonks, but I need to stay here and defend my school. This is NOT a battle to loose! Voldemort will NOT take Hogwarts! There are too many innocents here that need to be protected.” Ginny exclaimed before racing off to help her friend, Tonks at her back.

“Let’s see how many of the students we can round up and find a place to set up a defense. This is going to be a long night!” Tonks quietly said, sending off her Patronus to let the Weasleys know that Ginny was currently alright, but that the battle had just begun.


Three points to Hufflepuff, and I love that banner btw!

[Cwiddy]

Name: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Title: But Mom
Drabble you’re responding to: What for? Sly Severus
Why? The hopelessness of Andromeda made me think about that Nymphadora's response might be to these thoughts and ideas, to answer the question, What for?
Warnings: topic of death is discussed, and of course war!
Words: 337


“Mom, when will you understand that we do not fight because we want to die?” Nymphadora Tonks exclaimed to the older woman that was standing in front of her.

“Dora, Death is the only definite outcome of war!” Andromeda pleaded with her daughter. “Don’t you see that you will die just like Sirius.”

“Mom, I cannot live in a world where people are murdered just because they are Muggles or Muggleborn. Don’t you see that if Voldemort wins this war, even I will die, just because I’m not pure blood?” Tonks tried to make her mother understand. “If I sit back and allow this war to occur around me, my friends will die for nothing. Sirius will have died for nothing. Innocents are dying every day. Voldemort does not care if the person is even aware of the war. The Muggles know nothing about it, and are dying by the thousands. I hope you see that sometimes battle cannot be avoided, that some things are worth dying for, one life willingly given by a trained fighter can save many innocent lives in the future.”

“I know you are right Dora, but I do not know how to fight. My battle was fought years ago against my own family. That took all the courage I had. I have no fight left in me for this war.” Andromeda’s body sunk into the chair behind her, her eyes hopeless. “I miss your father, I miss my sisters, and I miss peace,” Andromeda sighed.

“I cannot bring Daddy back, nor change the mind of my aunts, but peace does not just manifest, Mom, sometimes there is a cost before peace can materialize. There are too many people out there who like the chaos of war too much for peace to survive very long,” Tonks uttered as she wrapped her arms around her mother. “I need to join the battle. I hope you stay safe Mom, and know that I love you, always!” Tonks stood and Disapparated to join the coming battle.


Five points to Hufflepuff. Nice response.

[Charmed_S]

Name:Charmed_S
House: Gryffindor
Title: The Euphony of War
Warnings: Character Death and HBP spoilers (for those who understand the symbolism)
Word count: 217

Go Poetry!

This is an un-betad version -- I'll post a betad version as soon as Colores does another amazing job =) So please forgive my mistakes

The Euphony of War

Again and again,
Swords of melody sing, and chant
Such celestial noise bound in metal clash, bitter,
And in that steady moderato of the notes, painted in shades of red;
crimson, and gold, maybe,
With the pride of such gushing scarlet and
The shame of such superlative emerald,
I find you lone,
Because the spears and the swords paint my eyes –
Round and around you spin, endless but last, with such
Silvery flicker, that bounce off my sword,
breaking the light,
And I wonder: it’s
To love and to die, isn’t it –
And to rise; but not only rise, no, but to fall, and
Fade into the sunset.

How do you tear the sunlight so –
Or is that the solitude of the moon in your tears?
Touch my tears with your lips,
Touch my war with your fingertips,
And save,
save the glorious sunset
Save them, save them and I must be left,
behind,
In the solitude of the moon, that glistens
Under the glamour of your portrait;
serpentine green and wispy silver, that
Dance and sing, endless but final;
In such celestial hum
Of that incarnadine sketch you shed,
In faultless rhythm with your face, and the moon,
And the silver slithering Snake;

For the Phoenix shall fall,
But not only fall, no, he must also rise,
Rise into the sunset.


Wow. Ten points to Gryffindor

[Wand_Waver2006]

Name: Wand_Waver2006
House: Ravenclaw!
Title: War Victims
Warnings: Mentions of character death.
Word count: 367

A country cannot simultaneously prepare and prevent war. ~ Albert Einstein

St. Mungo's was full of survivors of those deadly three years; full of the dedicated Healers who attended them; and full of the devastated family members who would never be the same. Even after the war had been over for a year.

Three years, thought Hannah Abbot as she roamed the blank halls during her break. Three years worth of destruction and death.

Hannah had not been personally affected by the Second War. She had been a Healer-in-training when it had started, right out of Hogwarts when the first few were hospitalized; she could still remember her first war victim.

He was barely recognizable, a Stunning spell and a Disarming charm hitting him square in the face simutaneously. His hair had been charred away; his nose, right leg, and left arm were broken, and he had massive internal damage to his lungs. The bones were easy enough to fix; his nose would be forever crooked. It was his lungs that were hard to repare.

He had never given up hope, though. Hannah had taken care of him for his whole six month tenure at the hospital, where he was joined by several other witches and wizards that were just as badly scarred. She took care of them all, part of a special team for the heroes.

He was a fighter to the end. His lungs, in the end, were said to be unreparable; he would need help breathing for the rest of his life. He made Hannah cry more than once as he whispered his wishes to her. That whole ward was a black hole of sadness. In the end, three of the people died, one after the other. Hannah was forced to call the times:

Harry James Potter, 6:42 pm, July 16th, 2001

Hermione Jane Granger, 6:45 pm, July 16th, 2001

Ronald Weasley, 6:50 pm, July 16th, 2001

She had taken care of Harry. They had been friends in school; she had been part of his Dumbledore's Army. Now, six years later, he still made her cry as she walked down those bare halls. She couldn't help but notice that those three best friends had fought until that day, one year exactly after the defeat of Voldemort.

Salty tears made their way down Hannah's face. She didn't bother stopping them.

Many thanks to Whittyleah for helping this sad little Ravenclaw.

♪Star♪


5 points to Ravenclaw.

[tc015]

Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Title: What’s a mother to do?
Warnings: Mentions of Character Death and Mental Disorder
Word count: 265

Molly just wanted to cry all day long. What was the point of waking up in the morning anymore? Her children, her little babies were in trouble. And she couldn’t do anything about it. Three of her sons – Bill, Fred, and Ronald – were all dead, her daughter – Ginny – was lying in Saint Mungo’s, the newest resident of permanent spell damage ward, and another one of her sons – Charlie – was a cripple.

Five young lives, five precious lives, were ruined. All because of a stupid war. Losing Arthur hurt worse than anything she had felt before then. But she seeing her children die was five times worse. She and Arthur were adults; they already had a life. But their children never had the chance.

How she wished she could say how beautiful her daughter’s hair was again. How she wished she could sit there and nag William about his long hair and fang earring. It would be worth all the money in Gringotts to have Fred trick her with another prank wand, even though she hated them.

A mother should never have to lose a child. They were supposed to outlive her. She should have had grandchildren, at least twenty of them. Now she would be lucky to have even one.

All these she could never do. Grow old with her husband, see her only daughter being married, watch her youngest son propose to his girlfriend – all of this would never happen to her. If she could give up her life for change all of this, she would. Sadly, she couldn’t change the horrors of war.


Three points to Gryffindor

[Laurskii]

Title: Prayers for the Outcast.
Warnings:
Word count: 509


*note* The song in italics is "God Help The Outcasts" from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame. No copyright infringements are intended.

Shadows passed on the wall in the flickering candlelight. He walked through the chapel with his hands clasped gently and his head bowed; this was a place of prayer, and despite all his uncertainties about the power of any sort of god above, habit forced his reverence. He passed by droves of people, all looking for something, same as himself, and as he walked by them, he felt a surge of sadness.

Reaching his favorite bench, Remus Lupin knelt to pray.

I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsy's prayer
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast
I shouldn't speak to you
Still I see Your face and wonder,
Were You once an outcast too?

'I don't know what you think you're playing at up there,' he thought sullenly as a deep resentment came over him, 'but I think it's quite wrong of you to mess with us like this.'

He raised his eyes to the crucifix that rose above the altar in the main church. 'Do you mean him to give his life for us too?' His heart was in his throat now, and he choked as he thought of his best mate's only son, Remus's constant torment and delight. 'How much do you mean to take away from me, from us?'

The war had escalated to an alarming rate, and as casualties mounted ever higher, Remus feared the outcome, and not just for himself. 'He's lost so much already...'

God help the outcasts
Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth

He stood and crossed himself. 'Nana would be proud.' He thought fondly of the days when he would accompany his zealous grandmother to Mass. She'd been convinced that, despite all the hardships his family had been thrown, prayer could help them overcome.

God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will

He somberly walked around the chapel, studying the ornate carvings that lined its walls. Around him, other lost souls did the same, some with hands clasped; others praying under their breath with a fevered plead. He tried to imagine what they were praying for, and then reminded himself that it didn't matter; in the end, all anyone wanted was peace, and if they were praying for that, they were same as him.

I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I
Please help my people
The poor and downtrod
I thought we all were
The children of God
God help the outcasts
Children of God

He slowed before a picture of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus, and reached out his hand to the family. Tears formed in his eyes, and he blinked them away, raising his head to the Heavens. "God help us. Help Him," he said aloud, dropping his hand from the portrait, crossing himself again, and walking out of the chapel.

God help the outcasts
Children of God


Three more points to the Slytherin house

[kathyhermy123]

Name: Kathyhermy123

House: Hufflepuff!

Title: Did We Win?

Warnings: Violence and Character Death

Word Count: 491 – just under. *phew*

Notes: Dedicated to Gandhi, who I quote within the drabble. And to the Huguenot soldiers from the Crossing of the Deleware, who were rather like the Death Eaters in this drabble.


Hermione knelt over Ron.

"Hermione!" He struggled for breath. "Did we win?"

***

At first glance, they had won. The Aurors had crept up on the Death Eaters in the night, and attacked. The Death Eaters, stumbling blindly in the darkness, hadn’t had a chance.

Hermione had watched it all. It made her nauseous to remember.

Death had been everywhere; it hadn’t been a fair fight. 500 Death Eaters were killed. And only three on her side had died.

Her side.

When had she chosen sides, she wondered. But she knew that it had never been her choice to make. Her birth had decided her side, just as Harry’s birth had decided his. They had both had chances to swap sides, but they had been prejudiced.

Were the Death Eaters really that bad? Would they have snuck up and murdered hundreds as they slept? Yes, they would. And that was why she hated them.

But were they any better? If the problem was killing, than they weren’t. She had seen with her own eyes the Death Eaters’ children dying with their parents. She had seen an Auror creep up on and murder babies as they slept. Innocents had died tonight along with the guilty.

All’s fair in love and war. The phrase had a grim meaning now. But did the Death Eaters really deserve this?

They killed Harry’s parents. And Harry had killed Draco’s parents.

When she thought about it, she realized that they were just as bad as the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters had killed, and the Order had responded by killing. The Death Eaters had tortured, and the Aurors had responded by torturing. The Death Eaters had wanted power, and the Ministry had taken power.

An Eye for an Eye makes the whole world blind.Nothing could be more true.
By stopping murder with murder, they had created more suffering. The ‘eye for eye’ theory had founded the mess that the world now found itself in - if Tom Riddle hadn’t responded to the bullying that he received as a child by bullying others himself then the world may not have been in this mess, where the only way out of bloodshed was with bloodshed.

The only way? There had to be another way – there always was. If the Wizarding World had united and created a ‘safety zone’ where Death Eaters who were forced into serving the Dark Lord could go, a place where no magic could be used, where people were safe, then this would have been avoided. If the world had united in hopes of peace, than peace could have been reached.

But it was too late - Death Eaters and their families had been slayed as they slept. Blood had been shed, and there was no going back now.

***

“Please, Hermione,” Ron gasped. “Did we win?”

Had their side, proclaiming peace and an end to bloodshed, won today? Hermione shook her head sadly.

“No, Ronald. We lost.”




Wow, very powerful. Ten points to the Puffs

[Nutz-chan]

Name:Nutz-chan
House:Gryffindor!!
Title: Price
Warnings: Mentions of Character Death and Mental Disorder
Word count: 362

He survived. He always survived. And he vowed to himself he would remember them, like he remembered the ones that came before them. For it was the same thing. Over and over. Different agitators; Voldemort, Grindelwald or some other witch or wizard bent on controlling the world. Different ‘heroes’; Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter or some other person determined to try and save all of existence.

He would remember. Remember the children and adults who were forever lost. Remember how the streets of Diagon Alley were before all the deaths. Remember the shadowed, haunted look of those that remained. He would remember that, unlike last one, these heroes had died before they could give the wizarding world another child to place all their hopes on.

He thought it was sad, the way they had piled all their hope on the poor boy. It was a surprise the boy didn’t crack. But then…he thinks to himself and remembers the mutterings of some the survivors as they shook their heads over their drinks. He did crack. Being the reason so many people have been killed, wounded or tortured has got to be stressful. After losing so many and then having to live when everyone close was dead or gone…No wonder he cracked.

He shakes his head as he thinks of the price the boy paid to be the hero everyone wanted him to be. He closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands as he thinks of the price everyone paid so this agitator could be defeated. And it was all in vain. Because just like before, soon there will be another, an endless cycle that he must remember, at least as long as he is able to.

Rising, he walks from the back room to the bar, a smile ready in his toothless face to greet the customer.

“’Lo Tom,” the customer says as he sits at the bar. “How are you?”

“Oh good, good,” Tom replies. “The usual?” He says as the customer nods to the expected question. Tom reaches for a glass and pours the drink, wondering just how many more wars he’ll see, and what good they really did.


3 points to Gryffindor house

[Madame Marauder]

Name: Madame Marauder
House:Gryffindor
Title: The Children's War
Warnings: Mentions of Death and Despair
Word count: 331


It was an adult world years ago. It was a time when we fought equal adversaries. Rivals we’d known since childhood; enemies we’d made in the real world. The children were protected. Mothers and fathers would lay down their lives to protect them—their lives and innocence remained intact. When all was done, when the Dark Lord was vanquished, orphans wept and survivors mourned, but life went on. We carried ourselves as though there had not been a war. We moved with more caution than before, but we were safe. Falsely safe for thirteen years.

Then he returned.

He came back and now, it is the children’s world. It is a time when powerful dark wizards are fighting the children of their former rivals and enemies. The children are not protected. They have no mothers and fathers to lay down their lives for their sakes. Their lives and innocence are shattered. When all is done, if the Dark Lord is vanquished, the orphans will weep and survivors will mourn, but life will continue. The will carry themselves differently than we had. They will forever be cautious; forever scarred. They will not be safe from the demons within. They will be haunted, hollow men and women, but they will be safe from outside threat. If the Dark Lord is vanquished.

But what if…?

If he is not, the children he fights will be massacred. They will lay down their lives without mothers and fathers to lay down their lives in their stead. They will not stand a chance against darkness. What hope will they have? When all is done, if the Dark Lord succeeds, there will be no orphans to weep and no survivors to mourn. And life will not go on for us. He and his followers will revel in darkness and the echoes of the children’s battle cries will be their music. They will be better off dead; the world will be desolate and harsh if the Dark Lord succeeds.


Three points to Gryffindor

[crazy_purple_hp_freak]

...because I am slow, deeply silly, and forgot that I never posted this. :o :rolleyes:

Name: crazy_purple_hp_freak
House: Slytherin
Title: The Vision of Future's Fall
Warnings: imagery of death
Word count: 344

a/n : this is written in the POV of an (unnamed) young auror, questioning his choices, his tasks and the true meanings and reasons behind the war.

I

Death, death, dying –
but do I know how to die?
Have I the strength, that lasting
Stamina, endless flash in eyes?

Pupils wide, trembling as the
unknown (what was expected –
yet unperceived, unwelcome)
approaches.

What love or laughter lingers on the battlefield?
What running – leaping – jump –
the child whose cries were never heard;
the songbird left unsung at dawn;
the moon that never shone at night?

II

stand -
There are others, braver than us.
Fear is but a mere emotion,
wiped away at will like
dust on a polished table.

stand – turn –
and we salute them in the
dying embers of day.

This is the one who warned us;
This one had a plan
This is the one who
Saved us all.

Old faces dominate the creases of
old photographs – stained –
as we thumb them through in our
afternoon tea.

stand – turn – kneel –
The child is stumbling, whose footfalls and
cries we heard.
Silent wishes, un-remembered yet
not-lost, not-believed.
This one shall be my hero;
And this one was great,
When I grow up I shall be the one to
save the world.

stand – turn – kneel –
fall.

III

In the dying moments, the blackbird
sings to frozen figurines,
twisting and turning, far ahead and far
behind. This was our dream;
This is our nightmare.

How can we decide (run, to life or to death; )
when indecision is time wasted?
Is it possible to take cowardice
from realism, the rational – insane;

Or are the brave merely the foolish
who refuse to run?

IV

We were never taught the right way to die.
The stance, the expression –
priceless; not-lost and
not-remembered.
The final chord fades like a
beam of light stretched
to eternity.
Particles echo until they can
dance no more –
the piano remains unplayed;
an interrupted cadence.


and we fall,
still wondering if
this is the right way.
and still, there is more to learn,
more to understand and
others to take our place.

Death, death, dying;
and in the final moment the sun
turns away to face the moon;
It cannot bear to look.


Another awesome poem. Ten points to Slytherin

[Stubbornly_appeared]

Name: Stubbornly_appeared
House: Gryffindor
Title: The Power of War
Warnings: 6th-7th years, Violence, Character Death
Word count: ? (No word counter)


Bellatrix casts her curse. "Crucio!" she shrieks, without caring. The man on the ground before her writhes in pain, and she laughs. Her laugh is malicious and maniacal, the laugh that was taught to her by her master, her commander.

She is his general. Bellatrix Lestrange is the general of the Dark forces. Everything she was raised to be, she is now. She is his most trusted servant. And he, the Dark Lord, gives her power in return for her devoted service.

She feels the power of it. Bellatrix feels the power of war. The power of war lies in large things, like pain and death. She feels it when she hurls curse after curse and sees her enemies scream and fall, unmoving.

The power of war is in crushing the opponet, to fight for a side until death. She trudges her way through the corpses. One man is not dead. He clings to her black robes with his remaining arm; the other is a bloody stump. He clings and begs for mercy, not for him, but for the others.

"I will show them mercy. They will be tortured," she whispers, looking coldly upon his torn body, "and they they will die begging for mercy. And I will give it to them."

"Why?" he wails, dragging over the bodies of his comrades. His scream echos eerily over the battlefield, even though the clearing is far from silent.

"Because you dared to resist the power." She looks over his pitiful form, but feels no pity. He is scum.

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix breathes, feeling the power of those two words. Power that the enemy was too weak to use. The power rushes through her body, moving from her heart to her hand to wretch of a man hanging onto her in a jet of silent green light. He tumbles to the ground, and she kicks him to the side. He leaves more blood on her robes.


He. He. More like an excerpt. I ended up writing tons, and this is just the first few paragraphs.

I decided to do it from a different viewpoint. It is from what we would view as the "wrong" side. The side that fights for evil purposes. I decided I would try to show what justifies war for them.

-Stubby


Poor guy! Five points to Gryffindor!

[Angel of Dreams]

Name: Angel of Dreams
House: Ravenclaw
Title: The Pain of War
Warnings: 6th-7th Years, Character Death, Violence
Word Count: 499

"Well," spat Ted Tonks, "get it over with, Lestrange. I'll never sign to your Muggle-born Registration -"

"You think that is what it is all about, Mudblood?" Bellatrix Lestrange laughed. "You think that is important here? You defied the Dark Lord's will! Crucio." She watched impassionately as the curse tore through Ted, but, for some strange reason, he did not scream. His lips were white as he struggled not to let a sound pass his lips, even as his body twisted into spasms.

A full ten seconds later, Bellatrix lifted the curse, curiosity entering her eyes. "It must not have hurt enough. No screams, Mudblood."

"I won’t," Ted said, and a grim smile appeared on his bloody face. "You can hurt me with physical pain all you want, but we won't give, Bellatrix. You hear me? We won't give. Your type of pain can’t hurt enough."

"Perhaps then I should use it on your friend then," Bellatrix hissed, her wand pointing at the thin figure who looked up at Bellatrix's wand with grim determination.

"Go ahead," Dean Thomas spat. "Give it your best shot. I may not be part of the Order, but I'm part of Dumbledore's Army, and you won't be able to hurt me."

"Crucio!" Bellatrix screamed, pointing her wand at Dean. Even as he convulsed in the dirt, Ted winced as he saw the horrendous pain that Dean was suffering. But a few seconds later, Bellatrix turned her wand back to Ted, a wide smile growing on her face as Dean gasped in the dirt.

"I think I know how to hurt you, Mudblood. I'll make you an offer: tell us the other members of Dumbledore's Army and I'll let you go; if you do not," Bellatrix's hand tightened on her wand, "this Mudblood dies."

Dean's knuckles whitened as his eyes grew wide. He looked at Ted, who had been his closest companion for the past few months. They had become closer than brothers, and Ted had become closer to Dean than the father he never had. "You wouldn't dare -" he began.

Bellatrix gave a loud, raucous laugh. "I wouldn't dare? I've killed more people than you'll ever know; one more won't hurt my conscience."

"Dean, don't -" Ted shouted, but he was Silenced with a quick jab of Bellatrix's wand. "Well," she asked softly, "what's it going to be?"

Dean hesitated, but a second later Bellatrix shrugged and pointed her wand at Ted.

"Too slow," she said with a smile. "Avada Kedavra!"

Dean screamed as the green light hit Ted Tonks, who toppled over in the dirt, his eyes wide and fearful in death. A hand grabbed the teenager, and threw him in a caged wagon, where he could only sit, shivering and sobbing silently in the dark.

Bellatrix looked inside the wagon, her eyes glittering with malice.

"I guess I have found a way to cause you pain. It doesn't always have to be physical, you know."

And then the door slammed shut.


I hope this thread is still active: all the other entries have earned House points, and this is my crack at it, and so far, there has been no comments. *confusion*


MQ says: I tend to do it in spurts, that's why it's been ages! Ten points to Ravenclaw.

[kehribar]

Note to Mithril: It's strange how I was randomly going through my old scribbles and found the original version of this drabble, today of all days. I had read your story Scribbles earlier today and it didn't click anything. But as I looked through my old fic, I found a strange similarity of themes. Anyway, if all of my sentences are gramatically correct and make sense, I hope you enjoy this one.

Name: kehribar
House: Gryffindor
Title: Afraid
Warnings: Just a bit sadness, maybe.
Word count: 493


England
November 12, 1942

Dear Iris,

I want to write to you at once, without taking a break, without getting up from my desk. I want to write about what’s crossing from my mind and my heart. I know very well that pictures or letters won’t be enough to tell all that is lived through, but nevertheless, I will try.

First of all, let me soothe your worries: I am allright, and safe. The flight was neither pleasant nor easy; we lost quite a few people on the way, especially older ones. Watching people die is hard, Iris, but it’s harder to leave them to death without even holding their hand till death claims reign. I feel sick and dirty. I flee for my life, Iris, but I can’t help but wonder if there was anything I could do for the lost lives. Is my life more worthy than theirs? Each and every one of us flees from the war to save our lives and we don’t help others because we don’t want to risk ourselves… I don’t want to accept that human kind is so selfish. I feel sick sometimes, Iris, for being human.

And magic – what is it good for if not to stop this? How can we fight for it when it’s the only reason why this war started? I don’t know why I’m running, I don’t know who’s good or who’s bad. To tell you the truth, Iris, I sometimes wish I never knew about magic.

I would still be a poor artist living in an old attic. I would be the same Rupert; same Rupert without magic.

But there’s no kidding. I would never be the same person without magic to touch my pictures. I would never be the same person if I never met you.

The sun is setting on the moor; thin rays of scarlet paint the parchment. Can you see it? This scarlet is not like the one we used to share. The sun is sad here, sad and lonely. The colours are faded – I’ve never been able to catch our scarlet here. England is grey, Iris; every yellow, every green, every blue is touched by grey. I hate grey, despite all your efforts to make me love it. I hate grey, because it spoils my palette; and grey hates me Iris, and it hurts. Grey’s invading my life, my canvas, my brush, my eyes. This war, Iris, this war is killing my colours off, and painting the world grey.

I miss you, my friend. With all my heart, I miss you. If only you were here, with me, if only I could see you once more, I know that you’d save me from this mud of grey. But until then, take care of yourself. Save our colours for us, Iris, for I am afraid of losing them to the war. But to be honest, I’m afraid of everything.

With love and with hope,

Rupert


MQ says: Awesomeness! I don't see too much resemblance to be honest, your drabble's way better than my fic, you can tell an actual artist wrote this one and not just silly MQ who's obsessed with writing about artists but doesn't really know the last thing about art herself! :D 10 points to Gryffindor!

[wendelin the wierd]

This poem is about war and internal conflict, more metaphorical than literal.



I say east and you say west,
After all you do know best,
But there is black, white and in-between
Because things aren’t always what they seem.

I see the lines of fear and blame,
And I see our friendship go up in flames,
But we just smile and walk our way,
Look at each other and look away.

What happened to our summer skies?
They turned grey with all the lies.

You say dark and I say light,
Doesn’t matter which one is right,
All I know is that your warm green eyes,
Turned to steel and became ice.

I say love and you say hate,
And perhaps it’s all a bit too late,
Because a shattered heart though pieced back,
Will never quite be the same again.

What happened to our winter days?
They were bright but they turned grey.

This is not a battle, this is a war,
And when the world has dealt it’s cards,
It is our turn to fall.

~End


WOW! 10 points to the House of the Lions!

[Gin_Drinka]

Title: Shooting Stars
House: Hufflpuff
Rating: 1st-2nd year
Warnings: Character Death...but just mentioned.
Words: 426


I am the kind of girl that rereads books, over and over, until I almost completely memorize them. I have this quote that I love, from a book I read for the first time when I was about twelve, and have read every year since then at least twice.

“You become eternally responsible for that which you care for.”
But I have a question. What happens when that which you care for isn’t there to be cared for anymore? What’s happened to eternity? Has it fled from the war like so many others?

Eternity is a figure of speech, they tell me. Nothing is eternal, really. And I know it, I truly do! It is probably one of the only things that we can be sure of in this life. We shall say goodbye to the world once, never to say hello again. We all die. It’s the sad truth. We are like shooting stars, our existences brief and bright, yet forgettable within the multitude of stars just like us. Ending is an unavoidable thing. It should be faced with grace, without fear...like the thunderstorm at the end of a sunny day.

But what about the endings that went wrong? How do you face your five year old brother’s funeral with grace, without fear? How do you stopper the feeling of revulsion and injustice? His little mangled body lies in an equally little coffin, and there are words carved into his headstone.

‘John Montgomery,
A little Angel without Wings’

I hope he’s got them now.

Well, that’s war, I guess. A useless death…and there’s one more heartbroken widow. A needless loss and mine is just another desperate father. It’ll go on. So many others will feel this same way. I wish we could fill the craters in our hearts with all of the tears that we are sure to shed. It might make us feel as if they aren’t as empty.

We watch as a throne is built over their tombs, the resting places to the shells of souls we love, and a king will sit there. He traded his heart for a crown. As their headstones crumble, their names are left behind, and they will be honoured by no monument. After all, who will be left to remember them, once we are gone? They gave their lives for no one, to no cause. War claimed them, and it’s as simple as that. My brother was not a hero. He was not a soldier. He was just a boy, a star, whose light was stolen.

*“”*“”*“”*“”*“”*“”*“”*“”*“”

That quote is from the book The Little Prince, which I read in Portuguese. My school here in Brazil is named after it. It is a beautiful book.

And also, I just wanted to explain that the characters really are canon, they are one of the Montgomery sisters and her little brother, killed by Fenrir Greyback. They were mentioned in the sixth book.

MQ: *cries* 10 points to the Badger House!

[untitlednine]

Name: untitlednine on here, jackie in real life
House: Gryffindor
Title: When all seems lost
Warnings: Character death, and DH spoilers.
Word count: 408

War. It had this certain opaque wall about it. You could never see inside, see how it would end. And when the war was actually needed, not knowing the consequences just made the war even harder to begin.

That wall also hid whether or not war was a good thing.

As Harry sat on his bed in his dormitory, finally home at last as he reached the Gryffindor tower, he wondered if the tower really was home anymore.

He hadn't been here for a year. And he missed it more than anything before he had arrived at Hogwarts, but now he was here, he didn't want to be there so much. Ron had returned to his family. Hermione was with Ron. Everyone was mourning for those they had lost, whilst celebrating the death of Voldermort.

While they saw Harry as a hero, he saw himself as nothing. So many people had lost their lives, just because of him.

His parents.

Cedric.

Sirius.

Dumbledore, Moody, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, just to name a few.

And yet, everyone of them seemed to die for a reason. Not that they needed to die, it was just that they seemed to at least play some part in Voldermort’s defeat.

Harry thought, maybe he could retrieve the Resurrection Stone. Talk to his parents, and all the others. Tell them all how sorry he was, and that they had won. That they hadn’t died in complete and utter vain.

But he knew it was useless. Did the dead really need comfort? Or did he only want to apologize, to make his burden lesser.

As much as Harry didn’t want to admit just how selfish he was being, he knew he only wanted to hear them say it was okay.

But he knew it wasn’t okay.

With this, Harry leapt off his bed, and headed for the Great Hall, to do what he should have already done. He found Ron, who was being held tightly by Hermione. He said the words he needed to say.

“I’m sorry Ron.” Harry said, with a certain amount of bravery in his voice. Ron nodded bluntly in response.

He sensed someone behind him before they tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ginny.”
This made him smile a little bit. The war may have taken countless lives, and destroyed many others, but at least it was finally over.

At least they could finally move on, and live their lives without fear.


kehribar: 5 points to Gryffindor!