His want of normalcy
Siderius Cimmerii
One shot
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I was always jealous of Harry when we were younger. I can admit that now that everything's changed. I was bitter. He was always the light, I was always the shadow. I didn't see that it was just the way Harry is, that he is light; a sign of hope to draw faith on. Not because he's the boy who lived but because he was Harry.
Just Harry.
Harry, the boy in the oversized clothes, the one with the bespectacled frames, the one with the shy and crooked grin, the one with the sparkling green eyes. Harry who was humble of praise, who worried of what others thought, whom you had to push to get him to do things he wanted for himself. Who thought of others before him. Loved others before him.
I guess my jealousy stems from always being in the shadow. I was a shadow long before I met Harry. Shadow of my brother Bill the recently turned famous curse breaker, Charlie the daring dragon tamer, Percy the perfect prefect, Fred and George the delinquents but incredibly inventive comedians…I'm even a shadow to Ginny; Ginny the baby, the sweet singer, the great seeker (second in Gryffindor to Harry which became apparent when we graduated from Hogwarts.)
I should have been used to it, bit I wasn't. I guess because everyone had put him on a pedestal from the word go, he was bigger than all of my siblings put together. Not that he didn't deserve it. He did.
He always did.
The jealousy didn't become so obvious until our third year, much as I'm ashamed to say. I was jealous that he was in the Tri wizard tournament when all it had done was cause Harry pain. It was hard to get over that jealousy to be the caring best friend I was supposed to be. But that jealousy ebbed to fear that day he rescued me from the lake. That episode borne my need to protect him; to worry for him. That was when I noticed that he would not think of himself in dire problems and was indeed his own weakness. His Gryffindor foolishness. I worried over him quite fanatically. I was obsessed with his safety. I wanted him safe. He was my best friend.
He wasn't stable.
Harry Potter had a way of hiding himself in layers. There was the happy innocence layer, the brave and courageous layer, and the fearful and suicidal layer. The latter layer came out in desperate times that would soon come out all too often.
I made sure nothing went wrong with him. I made sure Cho wasn't serious about Harry, giving her allusions that Hermione and He had a thing, much as it pained me to say so. I kept the lovesick Malfoy away from him, making sure Harry knew only of his hatred. Most of all, I made sure Harry didn't turn bookish like Hermione…which would have been the most dangerous to his health.
Had Harry turned bookish, which he would have been prone to do because he tended to withdraw into himself, he would never have had his chance of happiness, of normalcy had I not kept him out.
Quidditch, for example, he was going to withdraw as seeker, much as he loved being in the air, because he didn't like being in the limelight. I convinced him not to. Utilizing my jealousy of him, which sparked his guilt, and speaking of our house's need for him, this drew his Gryffindor honor and duty. I felt guilty doing so, knowing that we were blatantly using him to gain points, but I had done my job.
I had kept Harry from his books, the books I discovered that year. Dark Arts, advanced books, ancient tomes. I admit I was keeping much needed war intelligence from him but I did give him his wish.
The want of normalcy.
I see now this was again my green-eyed monster coming out. Had Harry become bookish he'd be more intelligent than my average mind and had a better chance of killing HWMNBN and had he done that incredible task, would have become even more famous. To this day, I still question whether I did the right thing. Yes, HWMNBN was now gone, but maybe he could have been destroyed sooner. I don't know, I can only speculate.
No one but I know of my sins. Of holding Harry back. But I did it for Harry. All for him. In my own way. I gave him the happiness he needed in life, I kept the loneliness he felt away. I had done nothing wrong. Harry just wasn't used to it. Wasn't used to normalcy, he was the boy who lived and killed; he would never be normal. I wonder what made him do it? What possessed him to…No. Wondering would not do good. It would not bring him back.
I hope you're happy, Harry. I hope that what Dumbledore told you was right and your adventure was once again unraveling in life. It's the only way you can live. You just couldn't cope with the quiet, the normalcy.
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Note: Ron tries to repent, to forgive himself. To convince himself that it wasn't his fault. That he didn't cause Harry to die. I know the story was very vague, but I wanted you to formulate your own thoughts to Ron's thoughts; for you to come to your own conclusions. So what? Did you think Harry's death was the fault of Ron? Ron who urged him into action? Who urged the somewhat shy reclusive boy into the spotlight?