A/N: This is super short because I am tired and on a deadline. Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry (Assignments and Challenges) forum.
Subject/Task: History of Magic - Task 1: Write about someone who is looked at as a hero
Word count: 430
Sometimes, Harry hated being Harry Potter. He hated the lightning bolt resting so conspicuously on his forehead, hated the awed looks that were directed his way, hated all of it. He was just tired.
With each new year at Hogwarts, there came a new batch of first-years, most of whom knew Harry's name, and all of whom would have something to say about him in the months that followed. He would get accosted in the Common Room by shy, young Gryffindors, and sneered at in the hallways by the Slytherins that crowded around Malfoy and his goons. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would sneak glances at him over their breakfast, or openly stare if he just happened to walk past them. This behaviour did, of course, only last for a few weeks before they got used to having the Boy Who Lived in their midst. But.
He used to envy the other boys in his dorm, Ron included. They seemed to have such normal, simple lives in comparison to his own. At least they could sleep without Voldemort invading their dreams, or go outside without Colin shoving his camera in their faces. At least they didn't feel like the school was constantly waiting for their next fuck-up, waiting to prove that they weren't as big a hero as they pretended to be. It was unfair of him to think that way, he realised this as the years went by, but, well, he couldn't help it.
The truth was, Harry didn't consider himself a hero. It was his mother who had saved him from the killing curse, Dumbledore who had protected him for years, his friends who had got him out of every fight he'd managed to start himself. They were the real heroes, not Harry. He'd just done what he'd thought was right (even then, he was wrong half the time) and prayed that they would survive. It was nothing special.
Being Harry Potter came with too much weight for one person, he'd found. Harry was lucky in that he had friends who were willing to share the burden with him, but even then it wasn't enough. It could never erase the scar on his forehead, never scratch his name from the history books. He would never be free of the hero worship in young wizards' eyes which was both gratifying and exhausting.
It wasn't often, but sometimes, Harry would wish to go back to those days when he was nothing more than another, regular person. He would give anything for just one day - just one more day - of being Just Harry.
A/N: I hope you guy enjoyed that, despite how short it was. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!