eclectivemuses August topic: What's worth dying for?
This response is written based on full canon. The rp and slightly au things we have set up will not be effected by this, but sometimes I chose to do topics on canon alone.
Love. Freedom. Family. Friends. Strangers. Children. Justice.
There are many things worth dying for. I suppose I left off power even though I know that many people have died in their attempt to seize it. Power was never worth dying for to me. It wasn't worth fighting for either. Until someone decided that they wanted power at the expense of my family and friends lives. At the expense of my life.
Once I realized I would have to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated I felt strange. I expected there to be anger. I'd spent so much of the last few years being unbelievably angry. I expected to be enraged that Dumbledore had played me as masterfully as Ron plays Wizard Chess. Don't get me wrong, he did it for the right reasons, and from an objective stand point I understand. The few for the many, you see. I had to be a sacrifice much as others had been so that the rest of you lot would be safe. But being objective about it can only go so far because eventually I had to feel the full weight of that responsibility.
I was seventeen years old. The first attempt on my life came when I was only one. In a span of seventeen years I lost my parents, my godfather, my first friend and pet, my mentor, the teacher that I didn't realize had truly taught me, friends who fought along side me in a war that didn't have to be theirs because the dictator only wished for me. I stood in Dumbledore's office attempting fully comprehend what death meant. I was not supposed to merely die. I was supposed to walk toward death, head held high, and allow him to aim his wand and finish me. Finish what he started sixteen years before.
I was terrified. I wanted desperately for my parents, Sirius and Remus to tell me not to do it. When I used the stone to summon them, I waited for them to tell me to run. To ignore this destiny that was chosen for me when I was only one because of one man's sick need for power. But they didn't. They were brave, good people who gave their own lives protecting me. Protecting you lot. And they would wait for me in death to embrace me and tell me that I did my part well.
"Does it hurt?" Such a childish question asked in a tone of voice that sounded much too young for my seventeen years. Sirius smiled and assured me it would not hurt. It would be over fast. I trusted him. I trusted all of them, and I knew that I had to be brave. I had to face death the way they had. The way I had just seen Professor Snape do so. I took my strength from them and their faith in me. I took my strength from Snape's memories. I took my strength from the knowledge that Dumbledore knew I was the weapon that Voldemort had formed in his own image, yet could never quite make work, because as much as he put himself in me, I was too determined not to let him take control. I took my strength in those I saw that had already died, and those who were still alive. Mostly I knew that if I died the war would end, and if that is not worth dying for then what is?
Love. Freedom. Family. Friends. Strangers. Children. Justice.
There are many things worth dying for. I suppose I left off power even though I know that many people have died in their attempt to seize it. Power was never worth dying for to me. It wasn't worth fighting for either. Until someone decided that they wanted power at the expense of my family and friends lives. At the expense of my life.
Once I realized I would have to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated I felt strange. I expected there to be anger. I'd spent so much of the last few years being unbelievably angry. I expected to be enraged that Dumbledore had played me as masterfully as Ron plays Wizard Chess. Don't get me wrong, he did it for the right reasons, and from an objective stand point I understand. The few for the many, you see. I had to be a sacrifice much as others had been so that the rest of you lot would be safe. But being objective about it can only go so far because eventually I had to feel the full weight of that responsibility.
I was seventeen years old. The first attempt on my life came when I was only one. In a span of seventeen years I lost my parents, my godfather, my first friend and pet, my mentor, the teacher that I didn't realize had truly taught me, friends who fought along side me in a war that didn't have to be theirs because the dictator only wished for me. I stood in Dumbledore's office attempting fully comprehend what death meant. I was not supposed to merely die. I was supposed to walk toward death, head held high, and allow him to aim his wand and finish me. Finish what he started sixteen years before.
I was terrified. I wanted desperately for my parents, Sirius and Remus to tell me not to do it. When I used the stone to summon them, I waited for them to tell me to run. To ignore this destiny that was chosen for me when I was only one because of one man's sick need for power. But they didn't. They were brave, good people who gave their own lives protecting me. Protecting you lot. And they would wait for me in death to embrace me and tell me that I did my part well.
"Does it hurt?" Such a childish question asked in a tone of voice that sounded much too young for my seventeen years. Sirius smiled and assured me it would not hurt. It would be over fast. I trusted him. I trusted all of them, and I knew that I had to be brave. I had to face death the way they had. The way I had just seen Professor Snape do so. I took my strength from them and their faith in me. I took my strength from Snape's memories. I took my strength from the knowledge that Dumbledore knew I was the weapon that Voldemort had formed in his own image, yet could never quite make work, because as much as he put himself in me, I was too determined not to let him take control. I took my strength in those I saw that had already died, and those who were still alive. Mostly I knew that if I died the war would end, and if that is not worth dying for then what is?