Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: These stories are all one-shot, 1000-word responses to the Summer Writing Series Challenge, so each one is not related to the next.

Summer Writing Series Challenge (July 21)
Challenge: Musical Week: Theme- Angst
Challenge Conditions: Using the daily theme, choose a scene or song from any musical you like (stage or screen) and rework it using our favorite characters.
Title: Gethsemane
Word Count: 1,615*

Harry sat alone in the encampment. Night had fallen and one by one the Order members who accompanied him had retreated to their tents. Now he was the only one awake, and peaceful sleep was a distant fantasy. Harry was focused on the crackling fire, watching the burning embers as they shriveled and turned to ash, thinking about the sum of his short life. It all added up to this.

Restless and mentally exhausted, Harry sighed and stood up. He walked slowly around the unfamiliar grounds of the place that had been his first home, stopping in the abandoned gardens. He looked at the ivy-covered stone walls, the overgrown hedges and the wildflowers in bloom, and wondered what his life might have been like if there had never been a prophecy, if he'd had a chance to grow up in this house with his parents, and he'd never been The-Boy-Who-Lived. The only chance he had at a normal life now would come with the title of 'murderer.'

He pulled out a small silver flask filled with a sleeping draught, sent for a night such as this. Dumbledore had given it to him just before they left. Dumbledore - the man who seemed to control every aspect of Harry's life like he was a puppet. Even when Harry did something that he was sure went against Dumbledore's plans, it always seemed to work itself back around to be exactly what the old wizard had planned all along. It was infuriating.

When Harry was in his first years at Hogwarts, he'd admired the man so much.; he trusted him, looked up to him. In his eyes, the headmaster could do no wrong. But as the years passed and Harry learned more and more how much his mentor's hand seemed to be guiding his life, he grew angry, rebellious even. He was standing here now because the old man had sent him. After three painstaking years of preparing, both physically and mentally, Dumbledore just sent Harry off on his merry way to face Voldemort, like a child sending his toy soldiers into battle. To face Voldemort meant to kill or be killed. It was more than any seventeen year-old should ever have to deal with.

Harry raised the flask to his lips, tilted his head back, and then stopped. He lowered the flask and looked at it. After all these years of guidance and deceit, Harry wondered if he could even trust his mentor anymore. Along with everything else he'd fed him over the years, he had convinced the boy that he had do this, that facing Voldemort was in his cup of destiny and he couldn't avoid it. But was that really the truth? Was there no one else qualified to take down the darkest wizard of their time?

Sod your cup of destiny, Dumbledore! he thought. Find someone else to do this!

Harry sat down on a small wall and buried his face in his hands. With a growing rage he growled in frustration, his muscles tense and his breathing ragged…and then he sat silently, trying to clear his mind. After a minute, he raised his head again and closed his eyes, taking two deep breaths before he spoke. He mentally focused on Dumbledore, his mentor, as if he hoped to reach him telepathically.

"I just want to say," he began, slowly and softly, "if there's a way…please…take this cup away from me," he pleaded, looking to the symbolic flask in his hand. "I don't want to taste its poison…to feel it burn me. I've changed," Harry said and shook his head with a sigh, thinking about how his life had altered over the past few months. "I'm just not as sure now as when we started."

"At first I was inspired. But now I'm sad…and I'm so tired." His shoulders slumped in defeat and his put his head in his hands. "Surely I've exceeded your expectations. I've tried for three years - it feels like thirty! Could you ask this much from any other man?"

Harry stood up, put the flask in his pocket, and walked to a large tree, standing under its umbrella. He bit his lip in thought. Could Dumbledore have asked any of the other young men in his class to do what Harry had done? Could he ask them to die for the greater good of wizardkind? It wasn't that he was afraid of death; he just didn't want to die. Not now. He had a reason to live. He was afraid to lose her.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. "But if I die… If I see this saga through and do these things you ask of me… If I let them hate me, and hit me and hurt me…or let them nail me to this tree…" he shouted as he backed up to the tree, thrusting his arms outward and turning his head to the sky, knowing the Death Eaters would be only too happy to torture him before they let Voldemort finish him off. "I'd want to know… I'd have to see…" he said, wondering if his death would make a difference. The thought increased his rage and he clenched his fists.

"Why should I die?" His furious voice echoed off the garden walls.

What did Dumbledore want from him? Did he expect Harry to be martyred, and his name to be revered? Or go into the history books? Harry didn't want fame…not at all. He only wanted to be known as a good person, someone who was a good friend and never hurt anyone. So what did Dumbledore want? Did he just want to be known as The-Man-Who-Trained The-Boy-Who-Died?

His teeth were gritted tightly as he spoke. "Did you think I'd be more noticed than I ever was before? Would the things I've said and done even matter anymore? Why should I die?" he repeated, pulling the flask out and throwing it hard at the tree. "Can you show me now that I wouldn't be killed in vain?" Harry shouted.

If Dumbledore knew so much, surely he'd know that as well. Harry laughed mockingly, thinking about how Dumbledore seemed to know so much, but said so very little. What wasn't he telling Harry?

"Show me just a little of your omnipresent brain... Show me there's a reason for your wanting me to die. You're just so keen on where and how," he said angrily, looking around at his surroundings. His shoulders heaved with his heavy breaths. "But you're not so hot on why, are you?! WHY??" Harry screamed, raising his fists in the air.

An image flashed in Harry's mind, and he quickly held his panting breaths. Why? Why was he doing this? Why was he willing to face his mortal enemy and sacrifice himself? He knew why. It was because of her. As if Dumbledore was answering him, Harry saw her in his mind, and he remembered. If there was even a chance that he could save her, it was worth it. If it only meant that she'd live on, then he was willing to go on with this. He'd do anything for her. He would die for her.

"Alright," he whispered, sinking to his knees. He closed his eyes and felt a tear roll down his cheek. "I'll die…" But only for her. He'd do it for her.

A feeling of defeat washed over Harry, and he felt like he'd reached the end of his rope. His shoulders shook with the wave of tears that came. Why did it have to be him? Just when he'd finally found some happiness in his life, why did he have to give it up? He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want her to lose him. But if there was no other way…if he had to go…then he was going to go bravely. He wouldn't whimper and tremble at Voldemort's feet like a coward. He would make her proud of him.

"Just watch me die," he said, these images flashing through his mind. "You'll see how I die."

Harry reached deep inside, trying to find the boy who had started preparing for this so long ago…the boy who was so inspired. It was a difficult task for one so sad and tired. After all he'd tried for three years, but it felt like ninety… He was in there somewhere; the brave boy who was ready to face his destiny.

"Why then am I scared to finish what I started?" Harry asked as he shook his head. "No," he corrected himself angrily, "what you started…I didn't start this!"

He walked back to the tree and thought of her…mourning him and facing the world as The-Girl-He-Left-Behind. It wasn't fair that she would have to go through life that way. He sighed and sat at the base of the tree, running a hand through his hair. "This is just so hard," he whispered.

If only there was another way. Couldn't Dumbledore have thought of any other way to finish this? Harry had no choice now. It was Dumbledore's game.

He laughed in defeat and shrugged. "You hold every card. Fine then…I'll drink your cup of poison." He reached down and picked up the dented flask, opening it and taking a swig. Instantly his heart rate slowed, his vision blurred, and he felt the sleep creeping into him. "Just nail me to your cross and break me…let them bleed me, beat me, kill me…but take me now, before I change my mind."

Harry felt the invasion in his mind and he exhaled a deep breath. "Now…before I change my mind…"

His eyes fluttered shut as the potion took its effect on his body.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* A/N: Ok so I went over, but the song part is only 1063 words…the intro that explains the setting and mood was the extra 550, hehe. I just couldn't do it in any less. The song is from Jesus Christ Superstar, and I hope no one is offended by the parallels of Harry/Dumbledore to Jesus/God. My idea for this had nothing to do with religion, but you have to admit there are just some parallels in the books, and I thought the words were very fitting for how Harry might feel.

Gethsemane - I Only Want to Say
Listen to it here: http://www.tiffanyweb.com/music/gethsemane.mp3
(Sung by the fabulous Michael Ball *dreamy eyes*)

JESUS
I only want to say, if there is a way
Take this cup away from me
I don't want to taste it's poison
Feel it burn me, I have changed
I'm not as sure as when we started

Then I was inspired, now I'm sad and tired
Listen surely I've exceeded expectations
Tried for three years, feels like thirty
Could you ask as much from any other man?

But if I die
See the saga through and do the things you ask of me
Let them hate me, hit me, hurt me, nail me to their tree

I'd wanna know, I'd wanna know my God
I'd wanna know, I'd wanna know my God
I'd have to see, I'd have to see my God
I'd have to see, I'd have to see my God

Why I should die
Would I be more noticed than I ever was before?
Would the things I've said and done matter anymore?

I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord
I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord
I'd have to see, I'd have to see my Lord
I'd have to see, I'd have to see my Lord

If I die, what will be my reward?
If I die, what will be my reward?
I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord
I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord

Why should I die?
Why should I die?
Can you show me now that I would not be killed in vain?
Show me just a little of your omnipresent brain
Show me there's a reason for your wanting me to die
You're far too keen on where and how and not so hot on why

All right, I'll die!
Just watch me die!
See how I die!
See how I die!

Then I was inspired, now I'm sad and tired
After all I've tried for three years, feels like ninety
Why then am I scared to finish what I started?
What you started, I didn't start this

God, thy will is hard
You hold every card
I will drink your cup of poison
Nail me to your cross and break me
Bleed me, beat me, kill me, take me now
Before I change my mind
Now, before I change my mind