Harry Potter is mine! All mine! Bwahahaha!

...or not.

It's a worn and ugly prayer-

that things will get better, that the pain will end, that the darkness will flee from the light.

Harry knows that a prayer is a wish that won't ever be granted. There's always darkness,

midnight on the moon

and there's always pain

cripples the heart when the body is strong, cripples the body till the heart is gone

and things never get better, they just change.

Harry's tired of change.

He wants to rest for a while, to close his eyes and find a bit of peace,

to dream without screaming crying bleeding.

He waits to wake from the nightmare, but the nightmare never ends

because the nightmare is everything, is his waking hours and his midnight agonies

and he knows without a doubt that life doesn't get better, and there'll always be shadows

shadows at noon, shadows on the brightest day, midnight in the sun's gold rays.

But he's a fool, a fool who needs the comfort of self-delusion

I will not tell lies I swear I shall not tell lies I am not a liar I am not I am

and he recites his worn, ugly little prayer, holding it close to his heart like a talisman

a protection, ragged and thin

against the dark.

Let things be better, let the pain end, let the darkness melt in the light.

And there is midnight on the moon.