Harry Potter had broken the rules once again, he'd ignored Dumbledore's orders to stay in Private Drive at all times and had instead gone rogue, travelling from one place to the next on trains or taking long walks. After Sirius' death, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in a room with his thought.
What he was feeling now was more than grief; anger, fear, loneliness and bitterness swirled inside him. Harry was more conflicted than he'd ever been and he had no one to talk to about it.
For one, he was considering not going back to Hogwarts, not being the saviour that everyone thought he was. Another small part of him wanted to find Voldemort and hand himself over, let others fight this war in his place. The only reason he didn't do this, was because he could see his friend's devastated faces in his mind. If he died because of his own need to self-destruct, it would destroy everyone he cared about.
Harry still couldn't stop feeling lost, though. He'd been told he was The Chosen One despite spending half his life not knowing about the Wizarding World, Dumbledore wanted him, a sixteen-year-old, to kill a dark lord even though there were adults trained to do that sort of thing. What would happen when he had killed Voldemort? Would the Wizarding World simply pat him on the back and then forget about him? He felt like a pet for the Light side.
As well as all that, he wondered if he really did want to kill someone. He hadn't been able to hurt Bellatrix after she'd killed Sirius -he bet the Cruciatus curse he'd fired had only stung a little. The problem was that Voldemort had once been a person, a boy named Tom Riddle who'd grown up alone in an Orphanage. Harry wondered if Tom had ever felt this lost.
Sirius' words rang through Harry's head in that moment, 'we all have light and dark within us, what matters most is the force we chose to act upon.' It made him wonder if Voldemort had any light left inside of him, but seeing as he'd returned from the dead, Harry couldn't see him holding onto any humanity.
The war was coming, there was no way to stop it. Now that the prophecy had been heard things would be moving a lot faster and Harry needed to decide where he stood. Even if he was destined to be on the battlefield with Voldemort, he refused to be put there simply for being the poster-boy for the Light. He wouldn't be Dumbledore's man and he wanted nothing to do with Voldemort's agenda, but Harry would defend their world and everyone he loved. He would fight for everyone he'd ever lost in their memory and would not kill if he didn't have to.
He cared not if the Death Eaters went to Azkaban, but he cared about being called a hero for committing murder just as the Dark side did. Harry didn't want a world built on the deaths of others, he wanted those against them to surrender and be charged for their crimes.
As the train pulled into the next station, Harry got up and decided he would go back to Private Drive and pack for Hogwarts. Whatever was coming was going to come and he would not run from it. He was going to stand and fight with his friends, not for some agenda or so someone else could be in power, but for the freedom of everyone who ever lived.