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One of Hundreds and Thousands	By : ShadowAngel Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 978 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter and make no money from this; I'm just playing with scenarios and characters created by J. K. Rowling of which all the rights go.

Chapter List
- 1-One of Hundreds and Thousands
- 1
One of Hundreds and Thousands

I remember. Panic. Denial. Fear. It wrapped around our world like a cloak; only a few places were uncovered where the saviour and the headmaster resided with their group of loyal followers. No one wanted to believe what had been stated, what had been said, but fear of the possible truth was there hanging over us all. The famed Boy-Who-Lived who had often caused excitement and thrill in those who he met, was now instead causing the feeling of doubt, uneasiness and unsureness as he walked past us all in the corridors.

I didn’t know what to think at the time, I’m not even sure if I gave it much thought; I barely knew the boy who was a year ahead of me. I had stared at him in the corridors, watched him from across the hall and gossiped about him to my friends, sure – but….I only knew about him. Of him. This student who had supposedly saved us all and who later became our one beacon of hope, he was someone talked about and discussed, admired, but he wasn’t often approached by new faces – especially not by those outside of his own house.

I’d like to say that I was different; one of the few who had looked past the colours I wore and the crest I bore. I didn’t, however, I was just one of the hundreds who didn’t contact him but stuck to my own year as I did to my colours and crest. Moreover, I was one of the thousands who stood by the side-lines. Just watching. Not getting involved. Not offering support or comfort for the horror he had witnessed. The horror a fourteen year old school boy had seen. I was just one of those hundreds who just looked on in silence.

Throughout the next year was the noticeable one when the powers started shifting, the battle between the Boy-Who-Lived and the headmaster against the ministry. Not that I was really aware of that, why would I have been? It wasn’t my life, I was content carrying on with my studies the best I could – oblivious. Or is that ignorant?

It soon became my life, though, when it became clear that He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named had returned. I guess I was one of thousands who realised that ignoring the situation would not make it go away, that the moment to stop him from returning had passed, that it was too late. But….why….why then did no one outside the Golden Boy’s little group do anything? Even now I struggle to understand it, understand it of myself, though I think that I have some faint idea now. I was one person, a young person. If I stood out against He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, against the ministry, or even against anyone who shared either group’s ideals, then I would be removed with ease. I was no match against them and could not stop them.

Yet….there was the Boy-Who-Lived. The one who Slytherins taunted and sneered, who Ravenclaws admired, Hufflepuffs trusted and Gryffindors followed – the one who everyone had doubted at one point or another and held their own opinion about, yet the one who everyone expected to defeat the darkness over-looming our world. A baby, never asking for fame or glory, expected to rid the world of He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named because of a mark on his skin, despite all the ridicule and doubt thrown his way. Even now there he is, standing facing the Death Eaters. By himself.

Looking back now I can remember him in school, the way he laughed with his friends and argued with those he didn’t get along with (namely his nemesis). Just like the rest of us. Rumours flew around of who he fancied, who he dated. Just like rumours did of the rest of us. He had the crowd he was with, the crowd he avoided and those faces who just floated past him, neutral to him. Just like the rest of us. I saw the emotions he experienced; happiness and elation when his house won a quidditch match, sadness and pain at Dumbledore’s memorial. Just like the rest of us. And I have to wonder now….how different was he to the rest of us? To the rest of us children who come to the school and experience the wonder that it beholds; just wanting to enjoy our lives and learn the magic we can. What must that have been like? Fighting against He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named every year, having to look over your shoulder all the time, always wondering who liked you for your fame and status and who liked you for yourself, shouldering all that responsibility and expectation before even being eighteen. Have we just been taking him for granted all this time? And even now, when he’s standing there alone, facing against the whole world’s enemy? How could the whole wizarding world just stand by and allow the responsibility of everyone’s fate to fall on his shoulders? Why could we not do it ourselves? Was it because we thought that we were all one of hundreds - of thousands - of people, and that us ourselves couldn’t do anything? Yet….we expected this one boy to do so. Sounds a little delusional to me now.

Now here we are, so close to be crushed, all the hope of our survival on this seventeen year old’s shoulders, and I could only think of how it came to this – how this war escalated to this level.

Seeing The-Boy-Who-Lived, I was one of thousands who saw him as the one who would kill He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named more than as a person.

Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, I was one of hundreds in the school unknown to him who knew him only through name and rumours.

When he claimed He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named returned, I was one of thousands to doubt him and ignore him.

As He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named gathered supporters, I was one of thousands who turned a blind eye and pretend it had nothing to do with me.

Realisation hit the world and I was one of thousands who cowered in fear and tried not to stand out for fear of death while hoping someone else would risk it just so the rest of us could be saved.

As our one hope stood between us and our executers, I was one of hundreds who was not known to him but was protected by him.

The saviour fell and I was one of hundreds who was terrified, but still just a spectator.

Yet as one brave man once believed a coward stepped forwards to take up the fight, I was one of hundreds who stepped up behind him.

Hundreds and thousands of witches and wizards saw what was happening in the world, yet no-one took a step forward, thinking if it is just ignored, it would go away. Maybe if one person had actively taken responsibility instead of turning a blind-eye….then maybe this wouldn’t have occurred; this battle we’re currently fighting. This battle, this is proof, that if one of hundreds has the strength to step forward, then others will follow until we’re not one of hundreds on the side-lines, but one of hundreds willing to defend ourselves.

That’s what I am now; one of hundreds fighting behind our saviour to protect our school, our world and our way of life. The Boy-Who-Lived fought to protect those who didn’t know and then fell at our enemies hands.

As did I.

Just one might not be able to change the world, but just one may make a difference. Just one may rally others; the ones add up until there are hundreds. I may have been just one of those hundreds who stood up, who fought, who fell; one of nameless faces who were a causality of war, but I was not one of those thousands who stood by and did nothing. I was one of the hundreds who fought against the Dark Lord to make sure that thousands of others could live, and I would not change that.

A/N: Hey, hope you enjoyed my first written fanfic :). This one is away from what I normally plan/think of as it’s away from romance and has more of a serious undertone, but I hope it worked. Please let me know what you think; as a new poster I’d like some feedback to know how my stories are received – Yuki.
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One of Hundreds and Thousands