Harry hesitantly took a step towards the row of graves he had come to visit. Suddenly unsure what to do, what to say – and wasn't that kind of ridiculous? It wasn't like they really could hear him, but well, a few years ago he didn't think magic was real, so who knew? He squared his shoulders and took the last few steps, standing in front of a simple gravestone, marked with the dates of his parents birth and death. There was no inscription, only the names.
He took a shaky breath and gently deposited the single rose he had brought with him. He didn't know if he should say something, he doubted he could even form words at the moment. "I miss you so much" he finally managed. "I wish we could have had more time together."
Later he couldn't have told how long he stood there, there were so many things going through his head. He wondered how things would have been, had one of his parents survived that fateful Night. If his mother had but stepped aside, but then, maybe he wouldn't be here now. Maybe that would be better.
He felt tired, weary beyond his age. He just wasn't sure he could be the hero people saw when they looked at him, didn't feel nearly strong enough or smart enough or, when he was honest, determined enough. But there was no way out it seemed and even if there was, he knew he couldn't leave the people he cared about to deal with the monster that was Tom Riddle on their own.
He just wished it wasn't always him they looked to for leadership. Surely there were more experienced people out there, was it really possible that one 16 year old boy was all there was to lead them? His eyes flickered once more to the gravestone. Nothing for it, really. And if he felt like he wouldn't see the end of this war that wasn't so bad either, he reasoned. If the worst came he would be with his parents, would see Sirius again.
"I'll see you soon" he muttered and turned around. Slowly he walked out of the graveyard.
