A History Lesson (Do Not Go Gently into the Night)

Hermione stared out the window, watching men and women die as the battle pressed on. She could see, faintly, two stocky red heads screaming obscenities as they rushed a group of Death Eaters.

Ron leaned against her heavily, both of them clinging together for support. Their eyes frantically swept the grounds, looking for a black-haired boy in bright red and gold robes.

"We have to help him!" Run burst out, wrenching himself from Hermione's hand. He began to pace the floor, pounding his fist into his hand.

"Dumbledore said stay here!" whispered Michael Corner harshly.

"We can't just let them die like that! Voldemort came to eradicate us - we can't let the others fight while we sit back and do nothing," spat back Neville, shooting an evil glance over the huddled students.

"Let the adults fight this one," said a Slytherin boy wearily.

"No," snapped Hermione, squeezing Ron's shoulder and looking back out the window.

"Let it go, Neville! This is the way it's always been. Adults fight the war, not us. We don't know how to," said the Slytherin.

"That doesn't make it right," sniped Ginny, curling an arm under Ron's. Ron just closed his eyes and began to take deep breaths.

"Well, we're not going anywhere," hissed a Hufflepuff. "It's too dangerous out there. We'll just get killed. And like the boy said, this is the way it's always been. Students have never fought in a Wizarding War."

Hermione started, as if pulled out of a trance. She turned to look at the group of students, raising an eyebrow when they flinched at her look. She closed her eyes and gulped down a breath, and then began a speech that would go into the annals of Wizarding History for all of time.

"There are few laws in human existance that ever stay the same," she began, "they change with time and circumstances, they evolve with society and progress with civilization. But amongst the staidness of a mundane existence, there is a beautiful chaos within us. A life force driven by love and compassion, which few seek and less obtain. It is this love that allows a band of strangers, held together only by their shared humanity, to lay down their futures for other strangers."

Luna raised her head, and stared at Hermione for a moment. A small smile crossed her pale face, and she nodded at Hermione for reassurance. Hermione nodded back, and continued.

"There are only two true rules for living - living, not surviving. There is a difference. One, you must never be afraid to die. To give your life for your fellow man is the greatest gift of all - life unparalled. Your life will not diminish with your passing - the love you had for another will reside in their heart and soul for as long as they live."

"The second rule is this: you must never be afraid to live. To enjoy life in all its vivid glory, to experience the wonders and the pain. To wander through the joy and sorrow, to drink up every moment. To carry one what others could not is a privilege and an honor. To carry on in the memory of friends and comrades is a life worth living. Others have sacrificed on our behalf. It’s time to repay the debt."

Hermione smiled wanly. Faintly, everyone could here her whisper. "Do not go gently into the night. Rage against the dying of the light."

The Hufflepuff boy stood up, rage and fear warring on his face. "We can't do anything!" he spluttered. "There are too many of them, too few of us! It'd never work!"

"That's what they say," mused Dean out loud.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said a Gryffindor angrily. Dean turned to face him, a grim smile on his face.

"That's what they say. That's what they think. Well, I don't care two Knuts what they think. I remember reading about a battle in a book I had borrowed from the local Muggle school library when I was younger." He rolled his eyes at the wondering looks his fellow students gave him. "Contrary to popular belief, Hermione is not the only person who knows how to read. Anyways, it was something random I had picked off the shelf. One of the stories in the book was about a place called Thermopylae. 300 soldiers against an army of over a million Persians, who were hell bent on taking their homeland. Three hundred against a million, and the Greeks won. They held back the invaders long enough to let the main army rest and prepare for other battles. Every single man in that small army died, but in the end, they were victorious. Their blood, and their lives, paid for the freedom of those they cherished. And the Persians, the elite fighting squad, were demolished, and they never returned."

Luna stood up and crossed the floor to stand between Ron and Hermione. She patted Ron's arm gently, then stood as tall as she could, and spoke more clearly than anyone knew she could.

"There was a man once, in China. He was shopping one day when he walked into the street, groceries hanging by his side. People were protesting against the injustice of the corrupt political structure. The government brought their guns and their tanks to the streets, killing hundreds of the protesters. Now, this man had no part in this war; he was merely passing through. But this stranger, on this street, stepped into the path of the machines of war. The tanks tried to bypass him or force him to move, but he would deliberately get into the way. Why? Why did he do this, when this was not his war? He was saying, "This is not right, and I will not stand for this. I will make this my war, and if I cannot fight it, I will make so much noise that someone else will hear me and do what I cannot." Has there ever been a power on Earth so great that it has not been overturned? Has there ever been a force so strong that all have cowered? No! Because so long as there is that one person who says "This is not right, and I will NOT stand for it," then there will be a chance to make things better."

Hermione closed her eyes and turned to face the wall, her breaths coming quickly and quietly. Luna leaned her head into her back, trying to comfort her. Ron, who had been silently staring at his family out the window, suddenly spoke up.

"My dad used to tell me stories every night," he said. "Everything from Merlin to the story of Harry Potter to The Lord of the Rings. One night, when he was tucking me in, I asked him for a story about a hero. Now, it's a well-known fact that my dad loves everything Muggle-related; well, that includes the stories. So he told me one about a family in Germany. He told me that during the Second Great Muggle War, this family hid a family of Jewish people in their house. The Nazi party blamed the Jewish community for their troubles and woes, and they were being hunted down and sent to death camps. So much of Germany thought this was great and supported it, but there were a few families who didn't. This family retaliated by taking the hunted family in. They fed them, sheltered them, and clothed them. I was so impressed - these people were so cool! So i asked my dad what their names were. He just smiled sadly and that no one knew. I was confused - how could anyone forget their names?"

"I asked him what happened next. My dad told me that the Nazi's found out, and stormed the house. The father fended off the police while his son got the family to safety somewhere else. That amazed me that they didn't run. I had to know more, and so my dad told me."

"The family who had been hiding the Jews was sent to a death camp. They died there, and no one remembers their names. I thought it was so wrong for people to forget them. My dad said that they hadn't, but I didn't understand! No one remembered their names; no one bothered trying."

"But I understand now. The point was that they were trying to save not just a family, but a way of life. They didn't want their own names remembered for glory - they just wanted a neighbor, a stranger, to have a chance. I get it now. Harry's not doing this because of some sense of responsibility as the Boy Who Lived - he's doing it because he's Harry Potter, and he knows right from wrong. I'm not doing this because my uncles were murdered or to preserve my family's honor; I'm doing it because I choose to fulfill my debt to society. I choose to fulfill a debt to the people who sacrificed something for me. It's not just the soldiers - what about the medi wizards and witches who go days without sleep to tend to the wounded? What about the Wizarding families who are currently hiding the parents of Muggleborns? What about the businessmen who refuse to cater to Voldemort supporters? Don't they deserve a chance?"

Hermione leaned against the windowsill. The sky was starting to turn scarlet - the sun would be rising soon.

Dean jumped up and strode to the crowd of students, his arms crossed and anger flashing from his eyes.

"Do you know how I know I'm brave?" he asked, looking them all in the eye. "Because I know that when I step out onto that battlefield, my friends will be with me. I know that I might see them die, and it scares the hell out of me. But I will NOT turn my back on them, anymore than they would turn on me. I know they would give their lives for mine, that they would risk seeing my death and the deaths of their loved ones in the name of the greater good. And I will do the same."

Hermione fingered her wand, smiling sadly at the floor. She whispered something to herself.

"What was that, Granger?" asked the Ravenclaw. She turned to face him, the smile still there.

"A poem I read once. It was originally by the Muggle poet Dylan Thomas, but someone modified it." She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "And it fits." She gently slipped her hand into Ron's for support.

" ‘ Do not go gently into the night. Rage against the dying of the light. Don't ever forget what we used to be. For this is all we have - Just you and me.’ " She closed her eyes for a moment, and gathered her strength.

"I will not go gently into the night," she whispered, her voice picking up strength as she went on. "I will not go down without a struggle. I will be a river of fire so strong, so bright, so hot, that my enemies will have no choice but to notice me. I will raise my voice so loudly that the heavens above will hear me, and God will see me. I will not roll over and accept a fate some other man has written for me. I will write my own destiny. History will not remember my name, or face, or accomplishments in school. History will remember me as a girl who went down kicking, screaming, biting and fighting. History will remember me - remember us - as people who took a stand. As people who lived."

The room was silent. Many students turned their backs, unable to face the look of rage on Ron's face. Even worse was the serene acceptance of Luna's face, as if she knew that they would not go into battle. Ron, Dean, Luna, and Hermione turned to go, Neville standing to walk with them. A hand on Ron's shoulder stopped them.

"We're coming," said the Slytherin boy quietly. A few others stood up and joined them.

And they turned and walked from the front door.

Gone are the days when life used to be so simple
And happiness was just like winning a game
When friendship bonds lasted more than a day
And looking in the mirror was so much easier
But now the time has come, quick as it may seem
To wake up, to wake up from this dream