I look out over the empty darkness of the lake beneath the bridge destroyed by war. My feet tangle in the dust of my protectors and my tears turn them into mud. Everything that happened here is my fault. It's all my fault. If I had never been born, Voldemort wouldn't have killed my parents just to get to me. I mean, I'm sure that in some way him killing them was good since it lead to around 15 years of peace for the general public and that many lives were spared, but I've cancelled all of the good there could have been out by making children fight and die for me. I'm nothing extraordinary, I'm nobody at all.

And yet, I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived...twice. I will never just be Harry James Potter again and I will forever be Harry Potter, The Chosen One, their Golden Boy, The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, and a war hero.

War hero. How exactly is it heroic to sit there everyday and know that you've killed multitudes of people? Is a hero supposed to be a murderer? They will applaud me and my heart will torment me for making the wrong decision again and again.

Even Dobby died for me, and I didn't have time to mourn him properly.

A war hero. And all I did to earn it was not die while my professors, classmates, friends, and family did. I try in vain to put one of the stone soldiers back together. Once I realize how lost my cause is, I sit on the ground and cry harder. I hear the soft footsteps of a single person approaching, and I think I know who it is. I turn to him and wipe my face roughly.

"Malfoy," I say.

"Saint Potter, why do you cry?" he asks.

"You can look at this battlefield and be surrounded by broken bodies and judge me for crying?" I snap.

He laughs at me and doesn't reply. He looks down at the scattered soldier.

"I did this. This is all my fault. I killed them! What would you do?" I say bitterly.

"Potter, how is it that you haven't noticed? Are you that thick?" Malfoy asks me.

"I'm clever, and I'm listening. Now don't patronise me, cause people have died and I'm not happy. Tell me!" I shout.

Malfoy begins to walk away from me and he looks out over the water.

"You are not… him. You know how he was. It isn't your fault," Malfoy says.

"Was that… an attempt at consoling me?"

Malfoy says nothing at all, just looks into my eyes and I see. I see the sad, sad emptiness of loss in his eyes. I punch his shoulder as way of apology and forgiveness all rolled into one. He punches me back and we walk towards the train for home. It isn't until we make our last goodbye that I notice he was crying too.