Dumbledore's Man
My name is Harry Potter.
Most people know that. All because of something that happened when I was a baby. All because my parents died. All because a wizard decided to become Dark, and had a prophecy made about him.
My friends know what I have to do. They know what I have to become, and they stay with me anyhow.
Ron's my best friend, has been ever since that day we met on the Hogwarts' Express. He thinks he nothing special, but I know different—I know that he's what holds me up.
And Hermione, too. She's so smart, it's intimidating, being around such genius all the time. I'm glad that she and Ron finally got a clue; they deserve each other, despite all the squabbling they do.
But so many people are gone. So many people died, in this war and the last, that you wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just let go, give it all up. But then you remember him.
He never gave up—even when so much went wrong, and even when he got old—I know, it's hard to imagine him old. But he was over a hundred; he wasn't immortal, as much as we like to believe it.
He's the reason I'm chasing after them, you know. He's the reason I keep trying, keep getting up in the morning and searching for the last of the Horcruxs'. Searching for Voldemort, for Snape and Malfoy.
Because I'm Dumbledore's man, through and through.