This is in Ron's perspective. It's all about his journey with Harry and I felt we found out so much about how Harry felt in the books but not enough about how Ron felt. So here's some emotion for you cause I love emotion.

Growing up with a Hero

7 years ago when I meet him at Kings cross station I thought he looked kind of funny. Skinny, messy black hair that looked like he had just woken up, and slightly crooked glasses. I then got to know him, began to like his company. I thought our friendship was perfect, he was funny and generous, and he laughed at my jokes as well. He wasn't pursued by a powerful wizard who wanted to cause him as much pain as possible, and try to kill him. No way, he was just Harry. I knew his past, everyone did but I thought it was over and it didn't mean anything anymore. I didn't know that he would unintentionally cause so much pain. I can't remember what year I started to really worry about him. I have always slightly worried about him, ever since I first saw him in the hospital wing the first year, after what happened between him and Voldemort that caused him to be unconscious and deathly pale. Hermione and I being 11 both thought he was dead. I think that was the first time I ever felt grief. He turned out to be fine but burdened with the realization that Voldemort's one and only life goal was to kill him. We brushed it aside, relieved and told him and Hermione to stay in contact. Finally I had found the two greatest friends ever, who stuck with me and didn't call me weasel.

2nd year was an adventure, a dark, scary one but an adventure all the same. I think we all thought figuring this out on our own would be like in the movies, the ones where the heroes do death defying stunts and walk away without a scratch. Harry took the role of hero, I was the sidekick. It was then I started feeling jealously and I sometimes hated him, whizzing around on his Nimbus 2000 catching the snitch everybody chanting his name. In the chamber my hatred and jealously disappeared rapidly when he lived up to his hero status saving my sister. I don't know what happened down there but I really admired him and started to love him like a brother. I felt I would soon become the hero one day when he needed my help.

3rd year Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban to Find Harry. That cold winters day when Harry broke down after finding out his Godfather betrayed his parents, and now wanted to kill him. It was the first time Hermione and I had seen him cry. I started to realize he was more than a hero, he was my best friend Harry Potter, who was brave and heroic but was just like me and everybody else but he had such unfortunate events in his life like I had never known.

The night he returned from the 3rd task clutching Cedric's body barley able to talk or stand, his whole body shaking with sobs. I was shocked, I'm sure I drew blood from Hermione's arm I was gripping it that hard. She didn't seem to notice, she was just as shocked and afraid as I was. We waited in the hospital wing for what seemed like forever, waiting for Harry to step through the huge oak doors, so I could tell him everything was okay and watch him put on a brave face, so this painful fear for him would vanish. Instead he walked through the doors barely conscious, half carried by Dumbledore. When I found out what had happened to him, what that Horrible, filthy, slimy git had done to him anger boiled inside me. He had destroyed my hero.

Harry was never the same after that. He was no longer a hero. People despised him. I watched him spiral downwards; saw him afraid to sleep, afraid of other people. I stayed with him when all he wanted to do was scream in anger. I have never felt more hopeless in my life, when I found out that crazy old bat had been torturing him. He was angry all the time. He was upset because he was angry all the time. He seemed to be a mess. When Hermione suggested the DA I saw hope return. I thanked Hermione so many times I lost count. She was brilliant, she remained calm when Harry lashed out at her and said things that hurt her but she knew he didn't mean them. He knew that to. Things felt so much more normal. He became the hero again, teaching the most amazing things. He started smiling and laughing returning back to the Harry I first met on the train. Of course things couldn't last; all good things come to an end. Sirius was killed. Harry's only family, once again I felt pain, watching as Remus clung to Harry like Harry's life depended on it, and hearing his cry's echo in the huge airy room. When Harry was possessed I heard him beg for death. I never want to hear anything like it again. Hermione and I both wanted to burst into tears. The only thing stopping me from rushing to his side was her hand on my arm holding me back. I erased that night from my memory as best as I could. Unfortunately I couldn't do it magically.

That summer I worried for him so much. I was relieved to see Harry in our living room unexpectedly. He seemed surprisingly okay. A bit skinny but that was expected with him living with the muggles, but it was fixed with my mums excellent cooking. We laughed, and joked, and played Quidditch. He found out more about Voldemort and started to become more confident. He was back to his old self. He started dating Ginny. He was worried what I would think but I was so glad it was him and not some sleazy git, but I warned him. Dumbledore died, and once again Harry sunk back into a downwards spiral. Barely aware of his surrounding the night it happened. He didn't eat for 3 days; he didn't even get out of bed. Hermione and I forced him to eat eventually. We felt he was so fragile, like if you touched him or spoke to him he would break. Everyone else worried about him to. He went back to his lessons eventually, laughed and joked but I knew it was all an act.

When we began the hunt for the Horcruxes I promised him I would help him. I felt like the hero finally. We were in it together as usual but I threw it away when I blamed him and told him what he had never wanted to hear. He hit me; I thought I totally deserved it. At Malfoy Manor, Hermione was tortured. I finally understood how Harry felt going through pain over and over and over again, every time I heard her screams. When Dobby died it was yet another blow for Harry. From then on I never saw him smile or joke. He went cold but he never shut us out, he still fought but he wasn't ever going to be the same, I had accepted that and took him for what he had now become, a fighter. He had taught himself not to care too much.

Finally he learned the truth about his life. I had feared it would come to this conclusion for a while. Hermione and I watching him walking away about to make the bravest sacrifice for those he loved.

Seeing him lying dead on the floor of the great hall while Voldemort laughed with joy brought my whole world crumbling down, I couldn't breathe, I wasn't aware of myself shouting his name, I just heard Hermione sobbing next to me making things worse. We didn't know he was alive. But we were thankful beyond belief when he finally won the battle and avenged the one who had caused him so much pain and suffering.

He was a hero who always thought about his loved ones first. Over the 19 years Harry dramatically recovered. He had a family and become part of my family, he had a Brother and a Sister (in law) and his own children and a wife, my beautiful sister. He's funny and generous and laughs at my jokes just like 7 years ago on the train when I first meet him.

So it sort of turned into a chapter of like his life autobiography or something but I think that makes it sound cool.