Chapter Text
Arsenal: H.J.P.'s Mass Deception
by BloodiedTurquoiseKnives
I will not go down under the ground
'Cause somebody tells me that death's comin' 'round
An' I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave my head will be high.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
There's been rumors of war and wars that have been
The meaning of life has been lost in the wind
Ans some people thinkin' that the end is close by
'Stead of learnin' to live they are learning to die.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
I don't know if I'm smart but I think I can see
When someone is pullin' the wool over me
And if this war comes and death's all around
Let me die on this land 'fore I die underground.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
There's always been people that have cause to fear
They've been talking of the war mow for many long years
I have read all their statements and I've not said a word
But now Lawd God, let my poor voice be heard.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
If I had rubies and riches and crowns
I'd buy the whole world and change things around
I'd throw all the guns and the tanks in the sea
For they are mistakes of a past history.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Let me drink form the waters where the mountain streams flood
Let the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood
Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves
Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Go out in your country where the land meets the sun
See the craters and the canyons where the waterfalls run
Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho
Let every state in this union seep down in your souls.
And you'll die in your footsteps
Before you go down under the ground.
-"LET ME DIE IN MY FOOTSTEPS"
by Bob Dylan
Chapter 1: The Beginning
Hey Journal,
I'm sort of new to the whole writing down my feelings thing. I guess that I should write down how you came to be in my possession and give you a name. Before all that though, I would just like to say that one of the major reasons that I started this diary was because a war is brewing and I would like to keep an account of all the things that will happen when I stop hiding and show everyone my true self. In showing who I now am everyone will see what the deaths of Sirius and Cedric have done to me, they will see what knowing my destiny has done to me. After all, Dumbledore basically said kill, or be killed.
I am accused. I dream of massacres.
I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them.
Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives
Its end and runs toward it, arms held out on love.
It is a love of death the sickens everything.
A dead sun stains the newsprint. It is red.
I lose life after life. The dark earth drinks them.
Since they were threatened at Kings Crossing, the Dursleys have been almost bearable. They thought that it was only fare to get me a birthday present, so they brought you for me. Over this summer, I have learned many things including how to keep private diaries just that, private. The Dursleys were actually thoughtful for once, I like the diary a lot more that I would have liked a pensive, not that they would purchase some "freakish" wizard bowl.
I am a mountain now, among mountainy people.
The Dursleys move among us as if our bigness
Frightened the mind. They smile like fools.
They are to blame for what I am, and they know it.
They hug their flatness like a kind of health.
And what if they found themselves surprised, as I did?
They would go mad with it.
This diary will help me clear my head and it will be harder to break into, Voldemort and Dumbledore will never know what hit them. So, I shall call you Arsenal and make it so that no one but I can read you. You will be my own personal cabinet of weapons, I will use your content to help me be free of Dumbledore, Voldemort, The Order of the Phoenix, and the Deatheaters.
I am calm. I am calm. It is the calm before something awful:
The yellow minute before the wind walks, when the leaves
Turn up their heads, their pallors. It is do quiet here.
The sheets, the faces, are white and stopped, like clocks.
Voices stand back and flatten. Their visible hieroglyphs
Flatten to parchment screens to keep the wind off.
They paint such secrets in Arabic, Chinese!
I really must be going now though, we have to get to platform 9 and 3/4. Its horrible, Dumbledore is even making members of "The Order of the Phoenix" escort me to the train. I may have received you on my birthday, but I have only just now decided to use you. I felt that it was appropriate being as I have decided to turn over a new leaf.
There is no miracle more cruel than this.
I am dragged by the horses, the iron hooves.
I last. I last it out. I accomplish a work.
Dark tunnel, through which hurtle the visitations,
the visitations, the manifestations, the startled faces.
I am the center of an atrocity.
What pains, what sorrows must I be mothering?
I will never again be Dumbledore's little "Golden Boy," Harry Potter. Being forced to stay at 12 Grimauld Place at the beginning of summer, before I was allowed to go to the Dursleys, has changed me, it has awoken the Slytherin in me.
When I walk out, I am a great event.
I do not have to think, or even rehearse.
What happens in me will happen without attention.
The pheasant stands on the hill;
He is arranging his brown feathers.
I cannot help smiling at what it is I know.
Leaves and petals attend me. I am ready.
end this part
Please RR, so I know whether or not I should continue the story.