Apathy
You wish you could hate them.
You wish you could feel the horror so obviously in her eyes.
You wish you could feel something.
But you can't.
Every night, you sit on your bed, waiting for the tears to come but they don't. Memories of the battle fly through your mind and you see corpses, mutilated, burned and sliced. You knew most of them but you do not anything for those who died so honourably and horribly in your name.
In your endless state of apathy, you watch those around you try to rebuild their lives, grieving and burying their dead – the ones they could recognise as their kin; some bodies were too damaged for even magic to identify them – and slowly, the foundations for a new world have been laid carefully with help from their saviour: you.
And what you have become is an illusion of greatness. Your smiles and acts of kindness are covers for the nothingness underneath and what you have lost only becomes truly clear when you see her, hug her, kiss her and you can feel only the emptiness that plagues you. When she turns away, hurt and confused and lost, you know why she cries but you cannot make it better – you are the reason she is crying in the first place.
They whisper about you. Of course, there have always been whispers, sometimes even outright mocking, but you had always felt your ears burn in embarrassment and your eyes narrow in annoyance. Now, as you walk through Diagon Alley, the whispers are louder than ever and yet, you feel nothing.
After your trip to Diagon Alley, you go to the still ongoing clean up at Hogwarts and several bodies have been found, despite the battle ending two months ago. They had all been people and they had not just died, they had been destroyed and you can still look at their remains without feeling any of the disgust, horror and guilt your team does.
It occurs to you that you simply do not care anymore.
And you hate those who stole your innocence – as broken as it had already been before the war – and robbed you of your ability to feel. You wish you could be disgusted at their remains. You wish you hadn't seen worse. You want to feel, goddamnit!
And you still can't.
That night, you look into a mirror, after the tears once more fail to come. The moonlight shines through the open window, giving you an enigmatic glow. Shadows form on your face, creating malice and you can't help but think it looks fitting, in some ways. You think you should be worried that you might be turning Dark. Then, you look into your eyes. They are jaded emerald, empty and deadened. You close your eyes and think of the bodies in the Great Hall after the battle; dead eyes flash into your mind and you can't help but think that your eyes are akin to theirs. It should worry you that you can't look into your eyes for more than a few seconds; they are too empty, too devoid of life for you to really be alive.
You are not the same Harry Potter that left to hunt Horcruxes almost a year ago.
In the span of a year, you have been broken and haphazardly thrown back together; you will never be the same again.
And you wish, so much, that you could hate them for it.
Does that even make sense? I just started writing and this happened…
It's a bit rushed but I think I embedded the sheer apathy Harry feels quite well. I don't know why or how he would be feeling so indifferent - focus on the story and not the technicalities! If you can think of something (a mental illness - things like that) that Harry could have to make him so changed, then let me know - any advice or opinions are appreciated but please note that I don't particularly care for flames.
As always, thanks for reading :)
