Disclaimer: "'Cuz you know I don't do sadness, Not even a little bit. Just don't need it in my life. Don't want any part of it." –Spring Awakening
Seven Degrees off Sadness
Harry stared at the ceiling, watching the fan rotate in mesmerizing circles. It was blurry; of course, his glasses were on the table beside his bed. He couldn't sleep…as usual. One week until he returned to Hogwarts. Just seven days, then he'd be in his seventh year.
"Lumos," he murmered, finally giving up on sleep, and the wand beside his bed suddenly emited a bright stream of illumination. Technically he was still underage, but since he had defeated Voldemort a month ago, no one really seemed to care what he did any more.
He got out of bed and put on his glasses (he was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt since he hadn't bothered to change), then stepped into his sneakers and strode over to the window. He unlocked it with a simple charm then opened it. He stood there a moment, allowing the soft night breeze to play with his un-brushed hair, before lowering himself out then nimbly scaling down the side of the house.
As he walked down the quiet street a strange feeling crept over him. He was completely alone. No cars passed, no dogs barked, none of Dumbledore's spies watched him, waiting to jump to his aid at the slightest sign of danger. Voldemort was gone as were his Death Eaters, all locked-up or liberated. No one cared about him any longer. He was free.
Sure there had been the predictable excitement and celebration immediately after the Dark Lord's defeat. He had attended countless parties in his honor, made several speeches, the expected. Now it had all settled down, everything had returned to normal. Human minds had so soon forgotten what long had been thrust upon them as was their nature. Harry had served his purpose and the rest of the world had moved on.
You'd think Harry would enjoy this new, so previously unusual, freedom and he did, in part, and yet now he felt so useless. He was like an old toy, cast aside now that his part was played. At 17 years of age the point of his life had been fulfilled, his life was, essentially, over.
At this point he had reached the park. The moonlight glinted cynically off the rusty equipment. He sat on the one unbroken swing and rocked slowly, reflecting. It was all quite pointless now; school, life. He wasn't sad, really, just numb. It was a stunning experience having all meaning ripped out from under your feet, causes one to stumble.
"Well I still have Ron and Hermione." He commented to himself offhandedly. But even that didn't seem to hold the same value as it once had. Of course they were the epitome of importance to him, but they didn't seem to fill that void that had so recently opened in his being. He needed something that the outside world either did not posses or did not want to give away.
"Maybe I'll feel better when I get back to Hogwarts." He said this out loud, but knew it could not be true. He had taken in all the old school could give. He knew more magic than mot adult wizards, hadn't he just proved that last month? No, subconsciously he knew Hogwarts wasn't the answer any longer. Internally he had already moved on. His life was essentially pointless from this point on.
The answer didn't suddenly strike him, it had been there all along, but now he recognized it. He needed to create his own meaning, it was either that or fall into a depression that would essentially kill him.
He glanced upward at the eastern horizon and was mildly surprised to see the edge of the rising sun. He had been out half the night. And no one cared. No one cared. This fact finally hit home. No one cared. He could do anything. Anything. And no one would care. Instead of saddening him as this once might have done, it filled him with a strange, light-headed, sort of joy. He had to find meaning. He had to leave.
He ran back to the house. Clouds slowly began to drift in over his head, but he didn't notice. He climbed back in through his window and looked around. There wasn't much he needed, just some money, his Invisibility Cloak, his broomstick and his wand. The house started to stir beneath him as its inhabitants woke up. For a brief moment he considered saying goodbye, but the thought was transient and he left quickly so he wouldn't have to speak with them.
He was outside once more. He stood there a moment on the brink of decision; it was his last chance to turn back. The rain drizzled lightly, soaking his hair. He mounted his broomstick and took off, heading high above the clouds. As he ascended a strange emotion came over him, strangely enough he couldn't tell if it was hope or depression. Somewhere in the middle. He blinked and looked down at the field of white beneath him. It was clean, pure…new. The sun shown brightly upon it and his spirits rose slightly. Well, he thought, here I go.
A/N: Well, I must say, it certainly has been a while, months in fact. I do have several excuses for why I haven't been writing including, but not limited to: touring the British Isles, starting junior year (blah), joining marching band (obviously a moment of brief insanity on my part) and just being the lazy person that I am. I don't really know where I'm going with this story so I'm leaving it open for the time being, if I can't think of anything I suppose it'll just do as a oneshot. Hope you liked it, not much action, but hey…flowery language? For those of you following Tell Me on a Sunday, I have not, in fact, forsook it. I think I know what I'm doing with the final chapter so I should try and get it up soon since I'm on break. Funstuff. Oh yeah…airplanes, man are those things irritating. Well, that's it. Later.