Standing Alone

My mind is racing. So much has happened in my life. He has taken so much away form me--everyone I've loved. Those who are still with me are in constant danger. How can I protect them when I can barely protect myself? There is a prophecy that dictates my future. Kill or be killed? Why can't I just play Quidditch and learn how to turn a chicken into a teapot? Kill or be killed. Watch as everyone around me dies. They say I'm the only one who can stop it. Stop the death and destruction. Stop him. Why me? I don't want that kind of responsibility; I just want to struggle to get my homework done. But now I'm struggling for my life.

Everything moves in a blur around me. There is a flurry of activity and everyone looks at me when they pass. I stand here alone, trapped inside my own body. It feels like a hollow shell and my soul is bouncing around inside, struggling to be free. Kill or be killed, says the prophecy. It is what you must do. I try to distance myself; try not to think about it. People walk to and fro, preparing for war. Each spares me a glance in passing, because I'm the only one who can stop it. Funeral arrangements are made for those who have already fallen, for my godfather. People try to console me. My friends are so caring. I used to yell--I felt the anger, always so close to the surface. I used to cry-the anger only masked my insurmountable grief. Now I can't remember the last time I smiled or the last time I frowned. My friends haven't seen any emotion cross my face for weeks. They fear I have become nothing more than a hollow shell of a person. But if they were to look closely, they'd know. Behind the glassy stare, something flickers in my eyes. There it is--my soul. Bouncing around inside, waiting to be set free, waiting to bring all the emotions to the surface. I guess I'm not so empty after all.

* * *

I know I should be worried. I know I should be afraid. Maybe I should be vengeful, like I was that night at the Ministry. All I can think is that he's trying to ruin my life. He's got his Death Eaters and his stupid plans to fulfill that bloody prophecy. He wants revenge on me for doing something I can't remember doing. I just want him to go away and leave me alone. Kill or be killed. He won't stop until it's over. I recognize one emotion, in the kaleidoscope of my soul. I recognize determination. I won't let him ruin my life. I won't let him take the ones I love while I stand listlessly at the side--he's taken too many already. I won't let him win, even a little bit, by moping around feeling sorry for myself. I will live in spite of him. I'll keep him from causing more pain and destruction. I'll stop him because, apparently, I'm the only one who can.

* * *

Now 'm standing here in the darkness and the fog. His body lies at my feet. At the edges of my vision I see my friends standing around me, and I am alone in the circle of people, except for the body of the man, who caused so much terror, at my feet. All is quiet until I hear my own ragged breathing. I feel my heart beating and the ache in my muscles. I'm not a shell anymore, and my soul clicks back into place. A burden that I had not known I was carrying lifts from my shoulders, and I feel weak from the unknown exertion of holding it up. My wand and a sword fall from my hands. I silently turn my back on the corpse and walk three steps before falling to my knees. The emotions I kept locked deep within my soul finally surface. The tears break through and flow from green eyes that are now filled with an expression of shock and lingering fear. There is a rush as my friends--the only family I have--come to my side. A man with a long white beard and sad blue eyes lays a hand on my shoulder. Several red-haired people are there and their mother holds me close, making soothing noises and rocking me back and forth. A girl with bushy brown hair, a round-faced boy, a hook-nosed man, a woman with square-rimmed spectacles, the rest of the red-haired family, and a tired man who was once my teacher are also gathered around me. They have been fighting their own battles, I know. At the edges of my vision, there are other bodies. Aurors and Death Eaters alike lie motionless on the ground. Other Aurors stand over still more Death Eaters who are bound and gagged.

None of this matters. All that matters is that I am not a shell with a soul bouncing around inside me. I am almost whole again. My friends are with me, and it's over. Kill or be killed, the prophecy said. It's quiet now... except for the sounds of my own ragged breathing, the stifled sobs of others, and he tears hitting the floor. I can feel the emotions rushing through me. I'm crying again--for the first time in a very long time--and maybe some day, I'll smile.