Summary:
After the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter is left with a deep lack of purpose and the cruel feeling of worthlessness. So he holes himself into his room for two months, hiding from the frenzied eyes of the wizarding world, who are left to wonder where their Boy-Who-Lived went. What is he to do though, when he is eventually forced to reface reality and deal with what is the now?
Disclaimer- Harry Potter isn't mine, but where this story goes is.
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It had been two months since the famous battle of Hogwarts where Harry James Potter killed Lord Voldemort and saved the wizarding world from certain death. The battle had been horrific and the death toll too high, but everyone knows the story by now of how Harry had done it. How he and his friends had chased after the horcruxes, how Dumbledore had been involved in the destruction of yet another dark lord, even after his death, and how Snape wasn't a complete scumbag when it came down to it. It'd been two months of Harry's face being front page of the daily prophet with articles about his life story, and interviews from everyone about what they thought on the matter. In fact, today's paper was on his wooden desk, the flash of the cameras reflecting off Harry's glasses in the photo. The headline read in bold font: "The Boy-Who-Lived - What Now?". It'd been thrown on the desk along with the papers from the past month, not even skimmed . The surrounding room was a mess, and reeked of lived in spaces, as it hadn't been cleaned in far too long. Harry had stopped letting anyone in his room, or even to see him as soon as he'd been sent back to Privet Drive. There'd been a great yelling match about that, as many people were shocked that the saviour of the wizarding world was to be sent back to muggles, but it'd been decided that it was the safest place for him to go to get away from all the crazy that was happening in the wizarding world at the moment. This was complete shit in Harry's opinion of course, but no one seemed to care for his words outside of the interviews of his great defeat of the dark lord. They sent people from the order to visit him every now and then, but they didn't seem to be willing to go too far into the house, which was good. Considering Harry was the only person living there at the moment, it's not like there was anything for them to really see, apart from empty pizza boxes that had a light layer of dust on the tops. The rooms were bare, as the Dursleys' had taken all the furniture when they left, and the place was dark. It was an empty house.
Hedwig's cage was still sat on Harry's dresser in his room, unused as it was. The piles of letters from both the Ministry and Hermione were lying next to it, some opened, some just there. Ron had not written even one letter to Harry after most of the fuss had calmed down. Not even one. He'd been counting. Harry said to himself that it was because he was busy trying to rebuild his family and deal with the press. It was the kind of thing that even after saying a million times still felt like a lie.
In fact, the only person that still really check in on him was Hermione, and even that was beginning to taper off. Harry knew he appreciated it, but he still couldn't find the energy to write back, or even read her letters. To be honest, he couldn't really find the energy to do anything. Everything he did was either out of necessity or just to distract himself from the intense burning lack of motivation and emotion that he felt. It felt like time had almost slowed down since he'd defeated Voldemort, and the only thing worth noting was that he was no longer about to die every second of every day. So maybe that was worth celebrating. Maybe.
In all honesty, it'd been two months since Harry Potter had felt like he had a sense of purpose, like he had something to contribute to the universe. Now all he had was an empty house and growing pile of ministry letters. So, he stayed in bed.
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A.N/ I just feel like there should be more stories about or including mental illnesses. Sorry if this seems off or doesn't quite fit into the description of depression, but I've only had slight experience with it, so this is just what I know of it. Also, updates are probably not going to be frequent, as I write when the mood strikes me. But yeah, hopefully that wasn't too bad, and is decent enough for you to kinda want to see what happens next. I promise it will be longer and actually have stuff happening in the next chapter, this was just setting the scene pretty much. :)