Harry trudged down the front steps of the castle with his head down. People around him were all laughing and joking with their friends. A brief silence passed over them as he passed. It seemed no one really knew how to address him anymore. He felt detached from everyone. None of them had the same weight on them as he did. No one else had lost everyone they loved and were destined to be a murderer or victim. But what did any of them matter? All the people around him knew him only as a name. They just knew him as someone famous in the papers. He no longer cared what they thought about him.
I can't stand to fly,
I'm not that naïve,
I'm just out to find,
The better part of me.
A girl - she looked to be a 3rd or 4th year – came up to Harry. "Hey! Harry! Can I ask you some questions about yourself? Can I be your friend?" She asked him in an overly peppy voice. He kept right on walking, barely glancing at her. Quite frankly, she reminded him of Colin Creevy. After about a minute of pestering him, she finally went back to her friends and sat down, looking dejected. Harry wondered if that's what they all wanted from him; to get closer to him just because he was famous.
I'm more than a bird...
I'm more than a plane,
More than some pretty face
Beside a train,
It's not easy to be me.
Continuing on his absentminded walk around the lake, Harry's thoughts turned to his Godfather. All the people around him had great homes probably. On the other hand, Harry had only ever had a promise of a good home. Unless you counted when he was a baby and his parents were still alive. He couldn't even remember that though. But Sirius; Sirius had offered him a home - a true home. That had been taken away from him though. Now Harry had no idea when he'd be able to get away from his Aunt's house. He kicked the ground in frustration. Why did everything bad have to happen to him?
Wish that I could cry,
Fall upon my knees,
Find a way to lie,
About a home I'll never see.
Everyone seemed to look up to him. The DA certainly thought of him as a leader and a teacher, though he didn't feel very much like being the one people looked up to and paid attention to. All the people around him thought he was really great. Why couldn't they see he was a normal teenager somewhere in his heart? Of course, they also didn't know about the prophecy. Would they look up to him as much if they knew how badly he felt right now? Then again, didn't he have as much right as any of them to get all depressed about all the bad things in his life? Everyone else seemed to think he was some sort of superhuman, but he wasn't. He just wanted to be normal. Harry wished Voldemort had never been born. His life would be so much better without Voldemort, but what could he do about it?
It may sound absurd...
But don't be naïve,
Even heroes have
The right to bleed,
I may be disturbed...
But won't you concede?
Even heroes have
The right to dream,
It's not easy to be me.
This whole year everyone surrounding him had thought he was crazy. It was amazing what a newspaper could do to peoples' opinions and reputations. Amazing how fast they could change too. It didn't matter to him though, not really. All those people were just a bunch of fakes who would go with the flow. Harry knew they didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. They were just the background music. They could change the tone of his life, but that was about it. He wouldn't change to fit their beliefs, even if that did include them thinking he was crazy.
Up, up and away...
Away from me,
It's all right...
You can all sleep sound tonight,
I'm not crazy...
Or anything...
The light was starting to go as Harry continued on his walk. All the people were starting to go as well. He was just fine with that. It was nicer outside with silence enveloping the grounds anyway. Many people turned and looked at him one last time before going through the front doors. They saw him as a great hero, soaring above the rest of them on clouds of victory. They didn't see the inner struggle and grief he was experiencing. They just didn't know or understand him at all.
I can't stand to fly,
I'm not that naïve,
Men weren't meant to ride,
With clouds between their knees.
He felt like a marked man. "And indeed," he thought to himself, "I am marked." He couldn't even walk down a wizard street without being recognized. Everyone thought he was really special, but he didn't always feel that way. Of course, now that he knew about the prophecy, that was a bit harder. The prophecy didn't make him feel special though, just like he had a very heavy burden to carry. Already he could tell that nothing good would come from it. His parents were dead, his Godfather was dead, others were dead too because of it, and he was famous because of the dratted thing. Truly, it had ruined his life. For now he would be content to blame to prophecy for his problems. It didn't change anything though, because he was still famous and talked about, and he still hated it.
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet,
Digging for kryptonite on this one-way street,
Only a man in a funny red sheet,
Looking for special things inside of me.
Harry looked around to find himself completely alone. He finished his loop of the lake and walked towards the front doors. The stars were shining brightly now. His walk was a bit lighter than it had been when he had come through those doors earlier. Sometimes, he just needed some time alone to sort through his thoughts. As he passed through the doors, he heard voices spread out all around him, though there were few people actually in the Entrance Hall. Harry was ready to face all the people. He was ready to face life.
It's not easy to be me.