*Insert Obligatory Author's Note here.
*Include obligatory copyright legal mumbo-jumbo here.
*I came up with this short story while riding my lawn mower. It's short, compliant with the books (excepting the epilogue), and rather out-of-character. This is written without a beta, so ANY constructive criticism would be GREATLY appreciated.
The Speech to End All Speeches
It had been a year to the day since the dark lord Voldemort had finally been destroyed. In the following year, much had to be done to repair Hogwarts, even though the school had been deemed safe enough to accept students for the school year. As everyone had tried to move on and rebuild their lives, time had passed. As expected, two of Britain's Golden Trio went straight into Ministry work, struggling to work their way through Auror training. The third returned to the school for her seventh year and graduated with the highest marks since Albus Dumbledore himself, surprising absolutely no one.
As will often happen on the anniversary of a monumental event, the Ministry scheduled a memorial service- a surprising bit of tact, considering the original plan of holding a celebratory ball. Guests were invited from across the British Isles, and even the Continent. Awards were to be given, and a statue unveiled as a tribute to those lost in the battle against the dark lord. And as is the case with events such as this, speeches were planned and speakers were invited. The last such speaker was without a doubt the most highly anticipated. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, was to receive the Order of Merlin, First Class, on the one year anniversary of his defeat of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
The ceremony went rather smoothly, with various others receiving awards and recognition for their part in defeating the dark lord. The Lupin's received Order of Merlin, Third Class awards posthumously, while Headmistress McGonagall, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger all received Order of Merlin, Second Class honors. Finally, Minister Shacklebolt stood at the podium and cleared his throat.
"And now, perhaps the moment many of you have been eagerly waiting for. For, while the honors already given were awarded for very valuable service against the dark lord, the highest award must go to the man responsible for his downfall. Please join me in showing thanks and honor to Harry Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class!"
Harry stood, blushing profusely and walked to the podium. Minister Shacklebolt pinned the award onto his robes, and gestured for him to take the podium. Harry stood there, looking out over the crowd, as if weighing a decision. After a moment, he seemed to nod and reached into a pocket inside his robe. "Forgive me, but I wanted to write it down so I didn't bollocks it all up," he smiled at the crowd. Polite chuckles echoed across the Great Hall.
"I'd like to thank the Minister and everyone else here tonight, for as he said, defeating Lord Voldermort was very much the work of many people. I certainly didn't do it alone; I wouldn't have had a chance on my own. So to you, all of you, I say thank you." Harry clapped his hands in applause, nodding graciously towards his friends and many in the crowd.
"I would be foolish to stand here and accept this award for what I did, when in fact it was a great many things that led to Voldemort's downfall. In fact," Harry paused for a breath, "I am in truth, nothing more than the product of many choices made outside of my control. I am honestly an open vessel that others have filled with their influence- good and bad.
"I stand here today, and I will struggle to tell you that I am a product. I am a product of an abusive childhood. I know that many of you believe that Harry Potter grew up in seclusion, well-pampered and spoilt rotten, living in hiding lest some crazed Death Eater wannabe seek out revenge for the death of their leader. However, the fact remains that I was not pampered, nor spoiled, nor did I grow up knowing that magic even existed until my eleventh birthday brought my Hogwart's letter." Harry scowled at the looks on the faces in front of him. "Believe it! Or would you rather I show you the scars on my back from the lashings? Take you to the house where I lived in a cupboard under the stairs? Would you believe it if my relatives were here to confirm that I had no name other than "boy" for the first 5 years of my time with them?" Harry's face darkened with anger. "I am a product of an abusive childhood.
"I am also a product of a series of choices that forced me to remain in that environment, despite the knowledge of its dangers. From before I was born, I was marked; destined to face the Dark Wanker. And after, when he attacked and killed my parents, I was subjected to choices made on my behalf that would endanger my health and well-being. Yes, I said that the dangers of the Dursley household were known. My own neighbor- a squib in the service of the Leader of the Light," Harry's voice sing-songed with disgust, "knew and reported all of it. I've spoken extensively with her; she hated the things she saw, but was ordered not to interfere.
"To what end was I left in such a place? I was told that it provided me with mystical protection from the Dark Tosser and his band of merry men. After all, what was one abused childhood compared to the Greater Good?" Harry conjured a glass of water and drained it before continuing.
"I am a product of those choices and many more, made without my knowledge or consent; choices that led to my life being in danger yearly while a student here, until I was sent off to track Tom Riddle's soul-anchors and destroy them before facing the dark lord himself! With nary a 'would you kindly,' or 'we are asking you to…' To the esteemed former Headmaster, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and otherwise overwhelming busybody, I was an arrow. A tool. Harry Potter, the weapon forged to defeat a dark lord. By his own admission, I was to go to my own death, voluntarily, in order to return from death and destroy that evil blighter."
Harry paused for a calming breath, noticing the looks of shock and awe on the faces before him. Yet there was also curiosity. "I am a product of the many manipulations of Albus Dumbledore." He sighed. "I am a product of my friendships, and none are older or closer than those of the two behind me. My sense of self-sacrifice, my giving nature, and my forgiving nature, is thanks in part to the jealous, insecure nature of young Mister Weasley. Thanks to his petty jealousy, I learned that some friends can be bought with the right amount of chocolate or candy, or by simply being in close proximity to popularity. I also learned that bigotry exists not only in the pureblood agenda. 'There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin,' remember those words? Through my friend Ron Weasley, I learned forgiveness- for one had to learn to forgive if you were to be around him for very long."
"I am a product of the humor I learned from Gred and Forge," Harry smiled at George. "Nobody else in the world could go through what we went through and do it while selling laughter, and for that I am grateful."
Harry scowled at his notes, and then continued. "I am also a product of an overblown imagination, a construct made inside the mind of a damaged girl. If I have an Oedipus complex, it's thanks to you, Ginny. Why everyone let me chase a girl who everyone agreed looked just like my mother, I will never know. And please, Ginny, if you ever feel the need to ask your lover to call you mommy again, see a psychiatrist."
"Finally, I am a product of Hermione Granger. What good there is inside me is mostly thanks to you." Harry cut his eyes towards her before continuing. "From you, I learned loyalty, honesty, and the determination to do right, no matter the cost. I am saddened to think of how far I could have gone if I'd followed your example in studying. You have always truly been the best of us." With this, Harry turned and bowed deeply towards Hermione, who was simultaneously shocked beyond belief and blushing furiously.
Harry turned back to look at the crowd. "I am a product of you, and your willingness to believe whatever you are told. How many amongst you believed the Ministry when it branded me Undesirable No. 1? And before that, believed the Prophet when it called me the Chosen One? And when it said that I was colluding with Dumbledore to overthrow the Ministry?" Harry sighed. "Truthfully, though, this can only partly be laid at your feet. In truth, I am a product of the overactive imagination of one ditzy journalist who wouldn't know the truth if she woke up beside it in bed, and the complicit newspaper she works for. A word of advice- if you let your government control the information you receive, you will be enslaved by that government."
Harry flipped a page, conjured a quill and inkpot, and began checking off names. "Well, I see that I've cheesed off pretty much everyone on my list. If you ever find yourselves facing another dark lord, while it may be too late for introspection, you may want to ask yourself why Britain seems to have this problem about every single generation, and also deal with the problem yourselves. So long you cheese eating surrender monkeys!" And with that, Harry gave the crowd the unmistakable two-fingered salute, before turning and with a wink towards Hermione, disappeared.
The aftereffects of his speech were long and loud. In fact, the Great Hall remained full throughout the evening and well into the next morning as various people had their say, usually quite loudly and with great passion. It was at some point in the post-speech festivities that Ms. Granger felt a bulge in her handbag. Frowning, she excused herself and made her way to a familiar lavatory on the first floor. Fortunately, Myrtle wasn't there, and Hermione opened the bag in peace. Inside, she found a rather muggle-looking envelope with her name scrawled on it in a familiar handwriting.
"My dearest Hermione," the letter began. "I'm sure that by now, the whole British Isle is in an uproar over my little bout of honesty. I'm rather proud of that piece of work; it took quite some time to compose. Allow me to explain, that once Riddle was gone, I began to look back at my life. Dumbledore HAD set me up as a weapon to use against Tom. He confessed it to Snape, who gave me that memory before he died. I firmly believe that the Whiskered Wanker also set the Weasley family on me. Strange coincidence that the boy that would become my best friend was the son of a family that was slavishly devoted to He-With-Too-Many-Names, wot? What better way to encourage my own acceptance of the Barmy Headmaster's superiority?
"Anywho, I didn't write this letter to you in order to re-hash all of the things I just dropped on the Ministry memorial. I wrote this to you, because of all the people I've known; you have been the truest and best amongst them. If there were more Hermione Granger's in the world, evil could not exist. Since that day in the lavatory when we met that charming troll, I've been privileged to bask in your presence. I have watched your intelligence, your loyalty, your sense of 'right,' and yes, your beauty grow almost daily throughout the years. It is with that in mind that I must make a demand of you. One which you must follow, for who could deny the Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Vanquisher of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?
I must demand that you forget your infatuation with The Jealous Git, and find someone who will appreciate you for who you are. He cannot do that. No matter what he says, endlessly arguing and insulting and fighting are not a sign of 'unresolved sexual tension,' and even if they were, that is no basis for a long lasting relationship! I can tell you, he will constantly be jealous of any male friends of yours; he will forever belittle your wonderful intelligence; and in the end he will try to make you into his mother- a stay at home wife whose sole focus is keeping her family safe and well-fed.
If I were a true Gryffindor I would demand, in all of my puffed-up authority that you open your eyes and see what we really had together. If I were a true Gryffindor, I would confess my love to you. And as long as I'm fantasizing, you'd confess your undying love to me, and we'd run off together to live happily ever after. Alas, my Gryffindor courage has left me, and I am telling you of this in the most cowardly way possible- in a letter after I've disappeared. Twenty points to Gryffindor House if you can find me and I won't even stop you from punishing me!
I find that I am bored with British magical society. There is far too much bigotry, elitism, sexism, and lots of other –isms that should disgust sane people. But as long as there are shining beacons of truth and beauty like Hermione Granger, the world isn't lost. Know that I expect great things from you, and I will be watching your light shine from afar.
I am, truly, yours,
HP"
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Author's Post-Script: Curiosity sated, Constructive criticism appreciated!