Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is JK's, the rest is mine.
A/N: A very short beginning for a little perspective.
One Week
There were thousands who would look back on that week and remember the news arriving; the whispers that turned into shouts and cheers, the parties and the excitement.
There were a few hundred who would remember the battle itself; those who gave their lives to bring an end to the bloodiest age Wizarding Britain had ever seen. They would remember the fear inspired by the man who had cheated Death and returned to bring civilisation to the brink of ruin. They would also remember a boy, a young man, who stepped up despite everything that been thrown at him, despite the ridicule he had lived with, despite the terror that gripped the country and with a small group had saved a nation.
Only a few would remember that the young man had also met Death, but had shaken hands and departed equals. Those few would remember the young boy had never been given a choice, had never really been given a childhood, who had lost more before the age of seventeen than most would be able to cope with in a lifetime. But rather than the legend of The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, they would remember the young man; Harry James Potter.
A/N: Cheers for reading.