If I was a soldier, they would say I died in the line of duty. If I was an old man, they would say I lived a long life. If I was a man, they would say I died. But I am no man, I am an ideal. Placed on a pedestal before I could even say the word, I never stood a chance. I was their idol, the wizarding ideal. When I tried to lower that pedestal, I was both scolded for taking a risk and raised to a higher pedestal. I never stood a chance.
A slow fog rolls into a cemetery. Everyone is crying, remembering a falsehood. A gaggle of redheads sits in a corner with a bushy-haired brunette. Maybe they are crying for the real reasons. Perhaps only two know the real reason to cry. I never stood a chance and they buried what chance I may have had in death. For there, inscribed in stone laid the words, "the Boy-Who-Lived."
I was born Harry James Potter and I died Harry James Potter. Maybe only two people ever really understood that. I was a man, a boy, a human. I struggled, but I stood up. I stood for a people who never really understood that the real evil I fought came from them. Heroes exist for the villains. I died fighting the villain, but was it the right villain. If I was a soldier, they would say I died in the line of duty. If I was an old man, they would say I lived a long life. If I was a man, they would say I died. But I was an ideal. They said I died a hero.
