Introduction: This is my first Harry Potter fan fiction and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Any review is fine weather it's good or bad because I would love to know what you guys think. But please review ENJOY! I do not own Harry Potter (Even though I wish I did)
Third Person POV
Harry was sick of it. He let the wind blow hard on his face. It had been three years since Voldemort's defeat and all of the news reporters was still on his back.
He was tired of all the flashing lights that came with the cameras. He was tired of people always asking him about how he killed Voldemort or what was it like to be the most popular guy in the whole wizarding world. As far as he knew it sucked. Everybody was always on his case and there was never a moment of peace, privacy, or happiness. Not to mention his recent break up with his girlfriend, Ginny. His heart was broken from it, he was sure that his and Ginny's relationship would last but according to Ginny, "there was no love spark anymore".
The worst part about it all was that the press was still on his back about everything, including his recent break-up. If he could he would take one of those cameras or quills from those reporters (most especially Rita Seeker) and shove it up their asses. He felt that he shouldn't deserve this. He killed Voldemort in the process of actually killing himself. He saved the whole wizarding world from evil and all he really wanted was a simple and peaceful life, but no matter what everything was always the same. Was a simple life really hard for him to have or was it just God's intention for him to always be in the spotlight. Either way he wished that for once he could see and live the normal life that he had always wished for since he learned how to think for himself.
Harry tried to let his anger calm down so he could enjoy his flight. One of the only things that could always cheer Harry up was flying. He always loved the sky even before he found out about magic. After getting the remembrance ball from Malfoy back in 1st year, he knew flying would always be in his life no matter what happens. Of course he loved playing Qudditich (sorry if it's spelled wrong), but when he wanted to be alone Qudditich could never help him with that problem.
For the first time since his break up with Ginny yesterday, he had felt calm and happy. He felt as if he was finally free from everything. A smile graced on Harry's face as he felt the cool air go through the hair and face. He closed his eyes and let go of his broom to fully enjoy the air. His mind went back to the time when he was in 3rd year and he was riding Buckbeak. He remembered how free and happy he felt back then. It felt as if all the weight was lifted off his shoulders and that there were no care in the world or worries to hold him down. As the memory started to fade, Harry could feel himself going down. He opened his eyes and saw that he was spiraling towards the ground. He tried to gain control of his broom, but he was going too fast. Before Harry was able to get out his wand, he fell through a branch on top of a big tree. He kept falling through both branches and leaves, feeling the cuts and bruises that were now forming on his arms and legs. He finally hit the ground with a loud THUD.
Harry tried to lift his head but the pain was too much within a sudden movement. All he could do was lie there, with the pain soaring through him greater within each second. He could feel himself blacking out from the loss of blood due to the large gap open in the back of head. Harry knew he was slipping away. He thought about Ron, Hermione, The Weasleys, Luna, Neville, and even Ginny. He felt sad, knowing he would not be able to see him again. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to any of them. He was going to die in the middle of nowhere with no one to help him.
Harry didn't know if he was hearing things, but he could have sworn he heard footsteps and the crunching of leaves. He had truly believed that he was in heaven, for the last thing he saw before going completely black was a pair of emerald green eyes.
