I was looking through a list of one-word prompts, and just had to write this. I know it's a bit confusing, but I hope you like it.
Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived. After the war, he could have whatever he wanted. He had fame, fortune, power, and the looks. Everyone wanted him.
Still, Harry couldn't muster the energy to be happy. He wasn't. Every day, memories plagued him.
Dead, dead, dead.
They were all dead.
Why didn't anyone else see? They saw a fake smile, heard a fake laugh, and thought everything was alright. It wasn't! The praises came from everyone, how he did a great job, how he was so brave. Was he?
He wasn't free. Not really. He had everything, but no one saw. Or maybe they did, and just pretended. They were the reason he was trapped.
Trapped in a cage.
A beautiful golden cage.
Everything he did was watched. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. He must stay Light, and Pure, and Perfect. He could not do anything without being told yes or no in advanced. Why didn't anyone help?
"Harry, you should be an auror," they suggested, demanded, forced.
No, he thought pleadingly. No more death, no more pain, I don't want to see any more!
There was no choice. He nodded and accepted his fate.
"Harry, you should marry Ginny," they offered, ordered, commanded.
No, he thought desperately. She is demanding, controlling, I want to be free!
The marriage was planned, carried out, and there was no more Ms. Weasley, only Mrs. Potter.
He wanted to fight, lash out, rebel.
He was a puppet.
Others controlled him.
Every action he performed was ordered by others. His strings were pulled, and he had no choice but to obey. If he did not, the strings would be cut, and he would fall down, down, down.
"Harry, you must defeat the Dark Lord," He advised, declared, dictated.
No, he thought despairingly. I want life, I want happiness, I want to grow old and live!
He walked through the forest with the sole promise of death, and nothing else.
Decades later, Harry Potter lay on his bed. Healers, friends, Ministry workers, they all said he should be at St. Mungo's.
He refused.
He knew he was dying. He felt the life slowly sap out, and his body grow tired, slowly shut down under the weight of the years of life.
They couldn't control him now.
They couldn't threaten him now.
After so many years, he was finally going to be free.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
It was over.
How was it? Feel free to review if you can! Thanks for reading.