Equilibrium (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} equil_ibrium) wrote,@ 2006-12-08 22:23:00 |
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| Current mood: | apprehensive |
| Current music: | preparing for battle |
| Entry tags: | preview |
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Their mutterings turned into disbelieving shouts and cries of outrage, spreading through the Great Hall like a particularly poisonous game of Chinese Whispers.
“They‘ve all joined his side…,” Harry overheard a third year saying, and he turned to stare at Hermione and Ron in horror.
Hermione shook her head, and then scanned the rafters for her owl as hundreds of birds flew down like Spitfires, conducting a synchronised airborne dance.
As soon as her copy of The Daily Prophet had been dropped in front of her, Hermione snatched it up, unwrapping it with shaky hands, and smoothed it down on the table top.
As she read, her face aged visibly, and she nodded, her lips pressed together, before pushing the paper over towards Harry.
‘…The Ministry lost control of the last of the Dementors as they left Azkaban and joined the forces of the Dark Lord. It has been reported that the number of Dementors known to exist in the British Isles has doubled in the last three months. This comes a little after news that the giants and werewolves have also chosen to join his side…’
Harry swallowed and lifted his head, catching Ron trying to offer silent support to Hermione, his hand on her shoulder.
He sucked in a breath, and looked away again, turning automatically to face the top table.
Dumbledore sat in the middle, his expression grim, and he tilted his head, meeting Harry’s gaze, studying him for a long, soul-stripping moment, before giving him a nod.
Harry blinked, ignoring the hopeful stares of the students seated around him, each of them offering him their desperate trust, each of them choosing to believe that if they followed him he would give them what they wanted.
Harry sat a little straighter, pushing his glasses up his nose. Those people were his peers, and he had grown up with them. Even the ones he didn’t like too much deserved to have the chance to live and to thrive.
He watched as groups of girls huddled together like gossiping old washer-women, congregating for support. Boys exchanged wary looks, knowing that it was almost time to put aside whatever childish grudges they held in favour of fighting to protect the people they loved, and their school.
Harry stood up without even realising it, and picked his wand up from the table where he’d dropped it next to his knife and fork. All eyes turned expectantly towards him, the chatter dissolving into the walls.
He pushed a hand through his hair, messing it further, pocketed his wand, and then pulled the sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt down over his hands.
“I’m ready,” he said, not even bothering to cast a sonorous on his voice - they could have heard if he’d whispered. “I’m going to do it.”
The castle and its occupants gave him a collective, albeit reluctant sigh of relief, and in return, he offered his friends a smile.
