Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything involved with it. The italics are from the play Bang Bang You're Dead.
Harry Potter walked through The Leaky Cauldron for the first time. All these strangers stared, gaped at him, like he was something special. Didn't they know? He was a freak, an abnormality.
That was right, though, Hagrid told him, they were all like him. Harry wasn't the only one. But they knew, and they did nothing. They knew and they all ignored his childhood. Didn't his letter say 'The Cupboard Under The Stairs'?
So you make your face a mask.
Harry went to Hogwarts for his first year. He was embarrassed. Everyone was so odd, they just kept staring and whispering, but everything he did gave him praise, except from Snape, Malfoy, and the Slytherins. But, that could be overlooked. Harry was on top of the world. But then Harry caused death.
Professor Quirell really had allowed Lord Voldemort to possess him. When Quirell touched Harry's skin, he had eventually caused his own death, but Harry saw it. If anyone else would have gone, Quirell would be captured and alive, but Harry had caused death.
A mask that hides your face.
Harry's second year. He went to the Chamber of Secrets. It was horrible. Ginny Weasley almost died, but Harry never broke down. He was the hero and hero's don't cry, no matter how young they are or how many horrors they had seen.
Harry had defeated a basilisk, the king of snakes with only the help of the Sorting Hat and a Phoenix. Blood was all over him, and Harry could still see Tom's screaming form every time he closed his eyes. Tom may have been just a memory, but Harry did not even pause at the time at the thought of killing him, that scared Harry to death.
A face that hides the pain.
Harry's third year and so many lives were ruined because of Harry's stupidity. He had killed before, he should have let Lupin and Sirius do it. Pettigrew had ruined all of their lives, and Harry saved the traitor who went off in search of his master.
Now, Sirius was still on the run, Lupin was still without a friend in the wizarding world, and Harry had dug his own grave and had to go back to the Dursley's. It was his fault and his alone, and now he would suffer for it, no less than he deserved.
A pain that eats your heart.
Harry just got back from the hospital wing. He had witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory and the rebirth of Lord Voldemort. He told Cedric to take the cup with him and he caused the innocent victim to die.
To only make matters worse, Harry could not stop Voldemort. Not in being reborn and not even after he had a wand to save him. No, Harry was a stupid wizard, worse than the sniveling traitor, Wormtail.
To add insult to injury, Moody was not even the real Moody. An imposter was around all year long, Harry even saw the imposter's name on the Marauder's Map. Yet, he was too foolish to notice anything. Harry was completely deflated. He didn't deserve the hug Mrs. Weasley gave him. He deserved nothing good, only the Dursley's.
A heart nobody knows.
Harry Potter stood staring out his window at number four Privet Drive. He was devastated and confused. He didn't know what to do. Ever since it happened he felt so dead, even to himself.
Harry was once again alone at Privet Drive for the summer. He knew the reason but it did not help the hurt he was feeling.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he felt at the moment. Nothing. Not his parents, not the Dursley's, and not even Cedric. It was horrible. And somewhere deep inside himself, Harry did not like what was happening to him, but he did not care.
So you make your face a mask. A mask that hides your face. A face that hides the pain. A pain that eats your heart. A heart nobody knows.
The next morning, Harry Potter went down stairs as usual. But, he refused to cook or clean for his relatives. He may deserve to be treated like a slave, but he was a wizard, a superior in the situation and Harry would make sure they knew it from then on. In his frustration and anger, one Vernon Dursley slapped Harry Potter across the face.
It was the last thing he or his family ever did, and Harry stood over their lifeless bodies, smiling a cold, cruel, smile.
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