Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***
Numerous stories whose plot revolve around the premises set by various traditional songs inspired by war -- be they of longing, romance, cheerful tongue-in-cheek medleys, or even tragedy. For after all, if philosophy is the language of the mind, then music is that of the soul. Rating just in case.
Rating: R
Categories: Alternate Universe
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: The World at War
Published: 2007.02.04
Updated: 2007.02.04
Index
Chapter 1: Over the Hills and Far Away
Chapter 2: The Collier Recruit
Chapter 1: Over the Hills and Far Away
Author's Notes: Though not initially inspired by this song, submisison rules require me to place this one before the original one, "The Collier Recruit".
This song, first traced to the times of Marlborough, the famous English general, uses the modern lyrics attuned to it by British fiddler John Tams for the Sharpe's Rifles series, a TV mini-series about the Napoleonic Wars.
Harry sighed as he sat on his bunk, polishing his wand. It had been a hard day, but he and his squad had done their job again. They'd been assigned to take a specific house in the suburbs of Exeter, where the Order's informant had claimed there were large stockpiles of Dark artifacts that would be used for a raid planned several weeks later on Diagon Alley.
The takeover itself had taken some effort, and had killed a few men from the other team that had accompanied them.
Harry winced.
He'd always felt as if every death was his fault. Hermione called it his "saving-people" thing. Ginny called it his mile-wide nobility streak-right before she smacked him and called him an idiot for making his own life so hard. Harry had to grin at that. Ginny never was one to beat around the bush.
He lay down on his bunk, trying to clear his mind, desperate to get some sleep. His team had another assignment to do next morning-he had to be well-rested. Sloppiness could get him killed, and he'd promised Ginny to come back alive.
He lay there, rolling over every which way, trying to find a comfortable position, when he heard one of the other guys in his team begin singing a tune outside, encouraged by the other members of his team. Memories flooded into the forefront of his mind as he listened to the man's calm, nearly longing voice.
There's forty shillings on the drum
To those who volunteer to come,
To 'list and fight the foe today
Over the Hills and far away.
Sure he hadn't actually received any monetary compensation when he enlisted, but he still remembered his recruitment talk. Oh, how the Headmaster and the other members had exalted the deeds of the Order, the need for duty, the glory of fighting for the Light. It was moving, indeed, and soon enough, Harry had signed up, eager to get on the frontlines.
Little did he know, reality was nowhere near the exalted version orated by the Headmaster.
Mid smoke and fire and shot and shell,
And to the very walls of hell,
But we shall stand and we shall stay
Over the hills and far away
Harry gave a wry smile. That pretty much summed things up, didn't it? He remembered how, the first time he'd been in the field, he'd literally seen enough spells fly and hit to make visibility nearly nil. He'd panicked initially, hearing blasts sounding all around him, screams shouted, and people moaning and groaning in pain.
He'd recovered, of course, when one of the senior members of his team found him and grabbed his shoulder tightly, saying "Steady, Harry, steady!"
It had fueled his courage enough that he regained his composure. He'd then proceeded to lead a charge that broke the Death Eater ranks and secure a victory for the Order.
That had been a year ago.
Though I may travel far from Spain
A part of me shall still remain,
And you are with me night and day
Over the hills and far away.
Harry sighed. Well, he'd never really set foot in Spain before, but he did know the feeling of that particular stanza. His thoughts wandered over to Ginny, whom he'd left behind at the Burrow. Sure, Ron and Hermione had initially followed him, but Hermione had decided to go back to Hogwarts, since the school would be left defenseless without Dumbledore around, and Ron had decided to back her up.
But Ginny...Ginny he'd left behind, to the devices of fate. For the millionth time since he'd left the Burrow, he thanked whatever deity was out there for safeguarding Ginny.
Then fall in lads behind the drum
With colours blazing like the sun.
Along the road to come what may
Over the hills and far away.
Harry remembered how it felt to be one of the new Order frontline troops. All fanfare and drums, as it were. Loud praise being delivered by some senior members, the people they rescued giving them enthusiastic handshakes and hugs, the media exalting them to high heaven.
Now though, now things were different. When he had started as a recruit, determined to go down that "path to come what may," he'd never imagined he'd see the horrors he had since then. But there they were, and here he was.
When Evil stalks upon the land
I'll neither hold nor stay me hand
But fight to win a better day,
Over the hills and far away.
Of course, there was no way he'd have stayed behind, either. He knew the prophecy. He knew that the hopes of the Wizarding World lay on his shoulders. He didn't have to like it-in fact, he wished every night he could have a simple, normal life-but he would do it nonetheless.
Curse that Gryffindorish nobility.
If I should fall to rise no more,
As many comrades did before,
Ask the pipes and drums to play
Over the hills and far away.
Harry cringed. He didn't really want to think about death. Not his own, nor those of his comrades or enemies. He already felt horrible knowing he'd be the one to punch Voldemort's ticket. It was bad enough he had to kill one man, but more?
He already had confided his disgust with himself to Ginny, who had promptly smacked him for it and told him how much of an idiot he was being. She argued that no matter how Harry tried to justify another approach at defeating Voldemort, death was the needed solution, for Voldemort would never stop coming back if he wasn't put down for good.
Again, Harry didn't have to like it, but he accepted it.
Just like he'd accepted the fact that he was going to be killing a good deal more Death Eaters before he ever got his chance to fight Voldemort.
Let kings and tyrants come and go,
I'll stand adjudged by what I know.
A soldiers life I'll ne'er gainsay.
Over the hills and far away.
By now, Harry was humming the tune as the man outside sang. Over the year, he'd begun to realize that fighting was what he was good at. Sure, perhaps he would retire from fighting at the end of the war, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was all he excelled at. Maybe he'd teach...Yes, that seemed like a nice, quiet, normal vocation. Ginny would agree, surely.
If they both made it out of this mess, anyway.
Though kings and tyrants come and go
A soldier's life is all I know
I'll live to fight another day
Over the hills and far away.
Harry gave a tired smile at the latest stanza. Soldier's life really was all he knew. Getting up early in the morning, getting their latest assignment, performing their assignment, mourning over the latest death in their team, training hard to ignore the sting said death caused, going to sleep, getting back up again.
Yep, it was all he really knew.
The before-last line, however, made him reinforce his need to survive. He was determined to live to fight another day, but more importantly, to live to see Ginny someday. He missed her. He wondered how she was, what she was doing.
Probably flying in the orchard, he mused. He sure hoped Ron or one of her brothers was with her. It was dangerous these days to be alone, even if at home.
O'er the hills and o'er the main
Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain.
King George commands and we obey
Over the hills and far away.
Harry's ears perked up as he finally caught what the chorus was. Before, he couldn't really make out what was being said, so many voices there were. Now, however, it was clear, as only the lone fiddler sang it. Harry gave a wry grin. It suited them very well. The Headmaster commanded and they obeyed, after all, no matter where they went.
Then again, he mused, wasn't that what being a soldier's life really was all about?
Chapter 2: The Collier Recruit
Author's Notes: This second chapter is the original first one, which was, unfortunately, denied appearance due to its...tragic nature. Truth of the matter is, however, I tried making it work with any other characters and it just doesn't work. Maybe it is the intensity of the feelings behind the characters, or even the need for a right setting-I don't know. All I do know is that with any other character, it would detract from the passion and intensity of the moment described.
Think on it. Would it be the same if General Lee, in the scene where the troops cheer for him in the movie Gettysburg, was replaced by some other confederate general? No, right? The same applies here.
This song, though not generally well known, is modernly played by Kate Rusby.
It was snowing outside, Ginny noticed, as she sat in the living room at the Burrow, listening to the Wizarding Wireless as she sulked in her depression. She barely noticed as a new song began playing on the Wireless, her memories flooding over her consciousness.
O what's the matter wi' you my lass
And where's your dashing Jimmy?
Them soldier boys have picked him up
And sent him far from me
She remembered when Harry had never come back home one day. Her mother had gone into hysterics, while her dad had promised to ask around. She had simply sat there, torn with worry and grief. Thought flooded her mind, making for almost every possible scenario her mind could think of. She had only recently become his girlfriend; she couldn't lose him now. She couldn't bear it.
Last payday he went into town
And them red-coated fellows
Enticed him in and made him drunk
And he's better gone to the gallows.
The Weasleys had been relieved, of course, when he showed up the next day, smiling and proud-looking. She remembered shouting at him for worrying her, and him giving her his usual charming smile. Of course, when he'd begun telling them where he was, she began to fear the worst. When she heard him talking of everything the Headmaster had told him about the Order's history, she began to dread the worst.
The very sight of his cockade
It sets us all a'crying
And me I nearly fainted twice
I thought that I was dying
My father said he'd pay the smart
And he ran for the golden guinea
But the sergeant swore he'd kissed the book
And now they've got young Jimmy.
Her worries had become reality as he proudly displayed the Order of the Phoenix pin that symbolized his membership. Her dad turned ghostly white while her mother began crying. She herself had nearly fainted twice as the implications hit her. She too then began crying in despair at the news that her beloved would soon join the frontlines.
Her father had instantly tried to persuade Harry to desist, citing all sorts of reasons why he shouldn't get himself exposed to so much danger. Harry had tried to reason with them, citing the prophecy and other reasons for which he should. Her father had deftly countered every one of his arguments. He even offered to explain to the Headmaster about Harry's sudden change in opinion.
Her hopes were dashed, however, when the Headmaster had stated that Harry had already sworn a magical binding oath, which was irreversible. She quickly joined her mother in crying again, covering her face in her hands as she sobbed. In the middle of all this, Harry looked on, perplexed.
When Jimmy talks about the wars
It's worse than death to hear him
I must go out to hide my tears
Because I cannot bear him
A brigadier or grenadier
He says they're bound to make him
But aye he laughs and cracks his jokes
And bids me not forsake him.
Years after his recruitment, it still hurt her to hear Harry speak of his experiences in the war against Voldemort. She would always leave the room when he did, since every new horror-every new loss-would set her off.
He always tried to comfort her, of course. How could he not? He was Harry; the very notion of chivalry in person. He kept telling her they would probably promote him to some new post, one where she wouldn't have to worry so much. She would always give him a teary smile at that.
Emboldened by her lack of crying, he would then keep cracking lame jokes in an effort to make her laugh. Eventually, he could get her to giggle slightly, which always made him give her a radiant grin.
During some nights, they would sit outside in the garden, under the tree. She would sit comfortably in front of him, his strong arms wrapping around her small waist. He would hum in her ear, she remembered, a Welsh lullaby that Remus had told him his mother had sung to him. As they sat there, reinforcing their assurance of each other's love, he would always ask her repeatedly never to leave him. She would always sob at that, but always agree as well.
She loved him, she truly did. He was her other half-her oxygen; her soul. She had never given up on him, and had never been happier than when he had kissed her at the Gryffindor victory party in her fifth year.
As I walked ower the stubble fields
Below it runs the seam
I thought of Jimmy hewing there
But it was all a dream
He hewed the very coals we burn
And when the fire I'm lighting
To think the coals was in his hands
It sets my heart a-beating
Ginny looked up from the fireplace and lay her eyes on a vase on the family dinner table. It had white lilies. Her eyes began to tear up as she remembered that during the last few fears, Harry had always gone out to pick out white lilies for her whenever he was off duty.
She never even bothered to put on a coat or even shoes as she walked out into the garden, heading over to where she knew Harry had charmed a place to keep growing lilies year-round. She absently knelt in front of them and ran her delicate, pale fingers over them, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
She could still see the figure of a smiling Harry picking the lilies as she watched from the back porch, nursing a cup of tea. The very image of him doing so made her heart beat faster.
So break my heart and then it's ower
So break my heart my dearie
As I lie in this cold, cold bed
That was all a dream, though, she knew. Harry had died in the last engagement of the war, taking Voldemort down with him. She absently picked one of the lilies and, running her pale, shaking fingers down the stem, she lay down on the snow-covered ground, always looking towards the lilies. She could see him standing there, calling out to her, asking her whether she liked the lilies he brought her.
She smiled as tears sled down her cheeks, her fingers still stroking the stem of the lily she had placed on her chest. Her heart broke all over again as she remembered the day she was told of Harry's death.
She was tired. Oh so tired. She had nothing left to live for. Her love was gone, her heart was shattered, and her family could not understand.
She wanted to be near him again. To hold him. Hear him say everything was going to be fine. She longed to see those emerald, killing curse green eyes of his. For him to talk to her, hug her, kiss her, embrace her, love her.
Slowly, she let her eyes slide close, a gentle smile forming on her lips as she could see Harry smiling at her, holding out his hand to her, a nearly blinding white light shining from behind him. She could see him mouthing those three words she wanted to hear him say again in his careless, jovial voice.
Of a single life I'm weary
Her family found her body the next day, a gentle smile on her lips and a lily clasped tightly in her hands on her chest.
Ginny died at the age of 23, happy in the knowledge that she would see her love again.