Tired

Harry Potter was many things. He was a hero, an honour student, the youngest Seeker in a century. He was a master of Defence Against the Dark Arts, the Boy-Who-Lived, son of Lily and James Potter, best friend of Hermione Jane Ganger and Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

But most of all, Harry Potter was tired. He was tired of being the hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One. He was tired of being the saviour of a world that didn't want saving- like he had actually asked for this!- that had talked behind his back, ridiculed, isolated, and abandoned him, that had told him time and time again to simply give up. He was tired of fighting.

Oh, how he wished he could simply listen to them. He wished he could simply give up, just lay down and close his eyes and never have to worry about raising his wand again. He loved magic, certainly; it was the uses people expected him to put his magic to that bothered him. First, they expected him to excel at everything he attempted in school; and he did. Then, they expected him to be a uniquely talented Quidditch player; and he was. Next, they expected him to defeat (read- kill) He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; and he did. And then they expected him to return to school and get a job, and work for a Ministry that hadn't learned a thing, live in a world that worshiped him for what was, really, murder, and most of all, they expected him to be happy about it.

It was the only expectation that he failed to meet. Not that they were aware of it, mind you. Famous Harry Potter, always smiling for the cameras (however reluctantly), shaking hands and going about his daily life. Who could have guessed it would come to this, with Harry standing in the Astronomy Tower overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and wondering if the Wizarding World would finally learn the lesson that had been so long in coming… if he simply walked off. Not jumped, definitely not. Jumping was for people who were afraid they would stop at the last moment, or that the fall wouldn't kill them without some added momentum, or that if they did survive and wake up, they would be able to remember whatever had driven them to jump in the first place. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't afraid of any of these things. He had absolutely no reason to stop at the last moment, and any fall from this height… well, there was no worry of him waking up, that was for sure.

He wondered if the Wizarding World would realize they had driven him to this. All he had ever wanted was to be anonymous, but instead they had idolized and idealized him, placing him on a pedestal so high it made the distance to the bottom of the Tower to be only a few feet. Perhaps that was why he wasn't afraid, he mused; compared to the concept of living, death seemed to be rather like a vacation. Would they realize that in their quest to find a leader, to be told what to do, they had thrust a responsibility on him so great that they had annihilated any chance he may have had at a normal childhood? He hoped they would, but hope had never gotten him anywhere before. All hope had ever done was let him down. He knew that they would simply choose a new victim, place someone else on his vacated pedestal, and things would continue as they always had. Oh well. Maybe things would be different this time. Maybe.

And in a shocking turn of events, the Boy-Who-Lived committed suicide early this morning. At precisely six-forty seven this morning, Harry James Potter, who is famous for his defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at age one, then again at age seventeen, climbed to the top of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower and walked off the ledge. Investigators at the scene found a note in his shirt pocket. According to the initial report in a press conference given two hours after the discovery of his body, the note was only one line.

"It's time the tale were told of how you took a child and made him old."

The masses are at a loss for what this could mean, but one thing is certain; Harry James Potter will always be remembered as the young man who saved the Wizarding World from the strongest Dark Lord in history. In other news…

AN: I think the writer's block is going away! At any rate, I hope this didn't suck too bad. And as for the quote just now... I can't quite remember where I found it. I think it's in another HP story around here somewhere. Credit goes to someone else, who isn't me. Please review!