I never wanted to be the savior of the wizarding world.
I never asked to have my name written down into history.
I never thought to have my baby pictures on the front-page of every wizarding paper.
Nevertheless, this all happened in less time than it took to bury my murdered parents.
My name is Harry Potter and I refuse to become the light side's poster-boy—not that I'm likely to now, especially after all I have done.
When I was a kid, the whole political and ethical issues of the Dark Lord and the Ministry didn't show up on my radar. Of course, I didn't know I was a wizard either. Mostly, I was more concerned about finding food and refuge from Vernon's bellowing, Petunia's glaring and Dudley's punishing fists.
I ran away at the age of six. After five miserable years of being slighted, underfed and beaten, I left. The story of my survival during my younger years remains painful to my mind.
I realize that I am not providing much details but this is because it's difficult for me to recall most of my life. Give me time to explain. You see, I lost my innocence early on. Survival of the fittest was the only thing I hung on to. It certainly wasn't a very healthy thing for a six-year-old to cling to. All I can say is that if I survived physically, my mind went completely haywire—which is one of the reason I have become one of the Dark Lord's key-enforcer.
Dumbledore didn't find me. According to the Dark Lord, I was subconsciously hiding my magical signature. I went undetected for years despite a whole department of the ministry devoted to the search of one Harry Potter. But I doubt that they looked really hard. Dumbledore's birds might have, but certainly not the ministry. The wizarding world didn't need me at the time, so they thought, 'stay dead Harry Potter, we don't need reminders of that Dark era.'
But forget that, my childhood years and the ministry's bumbling attempts at finding me are irrelevant. My life started the day I met the Dark Lord. I was eight at the time. He was a wandering malevolent spirit. I was a wandering unchild-like child. We struck a deal.
Now, from a different and older—also less rash—perspective, I would have to admit that my alliance with the Dark Lord certainly wasn't one of my better ideas. But I have never regretted our meeting. Having grown up unloved, ignorant and alone, I could not refuse the Dark Lord's promise of power.
I was suspicious by nature. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is free in this god-forsaken world. I knew that the Dark Lord promises were laced with double-entendre. But at the time, I had nothing better to cling to. So that is how I followed my parents' murderer.
The Dark Lord himself told me of his role in my parents' death. I rationalized that if he had had the power to cause so much grief in my life then I would be taught how and would return twice as much.
I blame the Dark Lord for starting the whole chain of unfortunate events that make up my life. But I blame the wizarding world for doing nothing and letting themselves be ruled. I also blame myself for enduring the Dursleys for so long. But most of all, I blame Dumbledore. He could have turned around my luck. He could have left me with wizards who would have treated me fairly. But he did none of that and left me with the Dursleys.
Had I stayed, I would surely have been dead. I was better off with the proverbial devil. It was a sad day when I realized that.
I did go to Hogwarts eventually, under a false name of course. I wasn't found out as Harry Potter until way after I had graduated. But that's a whole other story.
The Dark Lord and I had a strange relationship. He trained me, he taught me and he punished me, knowing that I would one day be his demise. Anyone would have thought that incredibly stupid. I didn't and I still don't. He had his own reasons as I had mine.
I didn't believe in family. The Dark Lord killed my parents, made my life hell by leaving the scar that rests on my forehead and then ensued that I turned dark. Today, I have abandoned all sorts of beliefs and cling to only one thing: there is only power and those strong enough to wield it. That is my most valuable lesson.
I have yet to kill the Dark Lord. Because I don't believe in prophecies. I don't believe in pre-destined fate. I believe in power and only in power. This is why the Dark Lord still lives while I survive.
A/N: This is not remaining a one-shot. I like it too much lol.
