Dedication: To my role model, my eldest cousin Kunu. You're my superman.
After the war, after all the bodies were found and buried, after the mourning and rejoicing, Harry was considered a hero among all.
He was bold, strong, and greeted death as his equal.
Small children looked up to him as Superman, killing Voldemort and saving everyone from eternal darkness. To all the small children he was a hero.
To all the mothers and fathers who cared so much for their children, Harry's victory gave them a peace in their heart. Harry was truly their hero.
But I'm not. Harry always thought when anyone told him that. He was not even close to a hero. He was no Superman- saving everyone from near-death experiences. He was the opposite.
It was his fault Fred, Collin, Remus, Tonks, Dobby, and so many were dead. It was his fault the walls of his home-the one place that ever felt like home - came crashing down. It was his fault that he severed so many relationships, it seemed each person was missing their other half from the war.
Would Superman do that? Would he kill involuntarily? Harry wasn't a man who saves everyone from the dangers they face. He wasn't even close.
But you are. The kids would say when he denied it.
They didn't know. They didn't know about the loss and grief Harry created.
Yes, he might've saved the world, but he didn't stop the tears.
You're a hero.
No. He said. I'm really not.