As Harry tried to find a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, doors closed as he passed, no one wanting to sit with a potential dark lord. He continued down the train until a door didn't close as he passed, and he walked into the compartment where a blonde, starry-eyed girl sat. She said nothing as he came in and sat. She simply had a faraway look in her eyes that she maintained, not acknowledging Harry's presence. They sat in silence for a while, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, until the train was moving. After a while, Ron and Hermione joined him after their Prefect meeting, and Harry's spirits rose slightly as he talked with his few friends. Before they knew it, they had reached the castle, and they quickly found a carriage to transport them to Hogwarts.
"What are those horses pulling the carriage?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Harry, nothing pulls the carriages," Hermione replied.
"Hermione, they're right there. They must have changed the system this year."
"I still don't see anything. You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied, confused.
Harry put it out of his thoughts as he watched the castle appear. They entered as they had every year since second year and walked into the Great Hall. Harry wasn't particularly hungry, so he watched the Sorting with delight, until he realized that all the new first-years in Gryffindor shot glares his way. Dumbledore said his few words before the meal, and lavish foods appeared in front of them. Harry's appetite had diminished greatly, and he barely ate, though Harry eating comparatively little was not an uncommon occurrence. At the end of the meal, he started to head back to the common room alone, as Hermione and Ron had to lead the first-years there, when Professor McGonagall caught him.
"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, it's rather urgent," she said hurriedly. "The password is sherbet lemon."
Harry walked to the headmaster's office, saying the password as he arrived. He was surprised to find Dumbledore looking rather solemn behind his desk as he gestured for Harry to sit. Harry sat, and Dumbledore launched right into an explanation of the prophecy that guided his future. When he had finished, Harry was standing, furious. Without warning, Harry grabbed the nearest object and threw it across the room, repeating this multiple times.
"So either he kills me or I kill him?" Harry asked, breathing heavily, slightly calmer than before. "I have to do this? That's bullshit."
"Utter rubbish, yes, but Voldemort believes it," Dumbledore responded, not blinking at the curse. Harry understood what this statement meant immediately. He sighed, suddenly hating the phrase "self-fulfilling prophecy".
"The future of all wizards rests on me?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling small.
"You'll have help along the way, but he will always target you. First, we must get the Ministry to acknowledge his return," Dumbledore replied. Somehow, Harry had already known this, that he would have to be the one to kill Voldemort, but it made him no less angry to receive confirmation of the internal suspicion. The instruments of Dumbledore's instruments lay in tatters, but he didn't seem so concerned. Harry figured Dumbledore could probably fix all of it with a wave of his wand, but still felt bad for trashing it.
It was the first day of term for his fifth year at Hogwarts, and everyone hated him, it seemed. The Daily Prophet had been printing articles about Harry's dark tendencies and his supposed turn to dark magic. It was rather plain to Harry that the Ministry of Magic, probably even Minister Fudge himself, had ordered the slanderous articles, and it was an effective tactic. Harry, despite his previous encounters and defeats of Voldemort, was largely discredited. No one believed his account of what transpired the previous school year in the graveyard, and most saw him as a little boy desperate for attention. The Prophet had even called unnamed "expert witnesses" to testify to Harry's violent nature. He had been rather moody all summer, and it was hard to find a bright spot even at Hogwarts.
Harry, now sitting in the Gryffindor common room, read the latest headline and felt a bubble rise in his stomach. But for a change, it didn't pop angrily, but with a laugh. He laughed his heart out, looking at the headline, his friends looking at him strangely.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.
"People believe this trash," Harry responded, giddily.
"What else is new...?" Ron asked, confused.
"I could go around threatening everyone with horrible spells and they'd all believe it!" Ron and Hermione looked at him, shocked, but then cracked up laughing at the prospect, joining him in his giddy laughter. The other Gryffindors looked at the three uneasily. Ginny smiled over at them and joined the three, having been ostracized from her yearmates for her support of Harry.
"Hey, Ginny," Harry greeted easily.
"Hey," she said shyly, but without a blush. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her, surprised at the lack of the trademark blush, but said nothing. Ginny almost glared back, but caught herself, and sat down next to Harry. The four talked among themselves for a while, tuning out the world, until Ron and Hermione left to the dormitories. Harry hadn't told them of the prophecy, and he wasn't sure when he would, but felt a sudden desire for it to be known by someone.
"Ginny," Harry began quietly. He slowly explained to her all about the prophecy, she looking progressively more and more shocked. Ginny hugged him tightly as he explained, tears streaming down both of their faces. As the two sat in a remote corner of the common room and most people had already gone to sleep, no one paid attention to them.
"And they do this to you," she said quietly. "You are the only one who can save them, and they taunt you."
"Is it wrong not to want to save them?" Harry asked, even quieter. "Does that make me a horrible person?"
"It means they get what they asked for," Ginny replied confidently and angrily. "You reap what you sow, Harry, and they've sown awful seeds. Still saving them despite it means you're a better person than any of them."
Harry looked up at her and laughed. "I'm done with them, Ginny, if they want a savior, let them choose. Prophecies don't come true unless you want them to anyway, I'm done being their golden boy or their punching bag."
They talked a while longer, Ginny calming Harry down and consoling him, until she too left to go to sleep. Harry, making a quick decision, took out a piece of a parchment and a quill and wrote a quick letter, and sent it off with Hedwig. Harry climbed the stairs to his dormitory and collapsed on his bed. He pondered the prophecy, and reflected back on his years at Hogwarts.
His first year had been wonderful. Harry had made his first friends here, he had escaped the Dursleys, he had even made the Quidditch team, an impossible feat. Of course, there was the minor detail of Voldemort being attached to a teacher's head all term long, but that had all worked out.
Harry's second year had been a disaster. Luckily, no one had been killed by the basilisk, but after his quite literal slip of the tongue, he had been loathed by the general population of the school, not unlike he was now. It hadn't been a fun time for him, and he'd had very few people to talk to besides Ron and Hermione. Of course, he had been the school's hero again after rumor went around that he had defeated whatever lay in the Chamber of Secrets.
Then there was his third year. His only Voldemort-less year, Harry realized, and overall, it had been a joyous occasion for him. He had found his godfather and the real betrayer of his parents, and for a few glorious minutes, had believed himself free of the unspeakable evil of the Dursleys. The illusion had come crashing down when Pettigrew had gotten away, but he was still happy to finally have someone else there for him.
Harry had once again been dragged through the mud his fourth year, after his name had been ejected from the Goblet of Fire. Somehow, none of the idiots in his school had realized that a fourteen-year-old couldn't possibly tamper with an ancient magical object. That was actually being used as evidence against him now, Harry remembered from one of the articles. He had been hated by all the school, Ron included up until the first task, and had never felt more alone, even at the Dursleys. Somehow, it was worse when he had had the experience of a people behind him, only for them to so violently clash against him. The isolation had only gotten worse after his retelling of the events of the graveyard, especially among the Hufflepuffs who believed he was Cedric's murderer, and after the slanderous articles of the summer, practically the whole school believed him to be worse than Voldemort.
As he fell asleep, he could only think of one thing Ginny had told him. You reap what you sow, Harry, and they've sown awful seeds.
That night, Harry was thrown into the mind of Lord Voldemort once again, but today, he welcomed it, and talked with him as if with an old friend.
When Harry awoke early the next morning, it was without a pain in his scar and with a grim determination. He had received a letter back, and he was content with its contents. He threw on the Invisibility Cloak and headed quickly to the corridor where he knew the passage to Honeydukes was, and entered when he was sure no one was in sight. Harry walked briskly, reaching Honeydukes quickly and slightly opening the cellar door. It was too early in the morning for Honeydukes to be open, so no one was there, and Harry easily hopped out of the passageway. He explored around Honeydukes a bit, until he found a back room with a fireplace. A pot full of Floo powder had been placed next to it, presumably for the employees, Harry reasoned. He grabbed a pinch of powder, jammed a hat from a pocket in his Muggle clothing on his head, and climbed into the fireplace.
"Diagon Alley!" he yelled, and a few seconds later, he was there, stepping out of the fireplace without falling, for the first time. Harry continued walking down the alley toward where he had seen the headquarters of the Daily Prophet. It was one of the few buildings that was always open, in case of a spontaneous story. Harry stopped a small way away from the building, and made sure no one was nearby in the alley. He smiled and waved his wand a few times, performing a few spells, and when his handiwork was done, he took off his cap. Harry performed two last spells.
If they don't want me, I don't want them. The Muggles hate me, the wizards hate me, to hell with them all. Let Voldemort have the world, serves them all right.
Harry laughed as much as he could, knowing that all those he loved would be safe. Voldemort himself had given him a binding oath in a letter and another in his vision the prior night. A few seconds later, he could do naught but wheeze, but Harry was more content that he had ever been. He would miss a few people, but he had had enough. Soon thereafter, his wheezing went silent.
Hours later, Lord Voldemort looked up gleefully from the Daily Prophet he had been given by a follower and laughed. He had seen the boy's letter, of course, and had eagerly accepted the bargain. The immunity of a handful of wizards from attack for the removal of the only obstacle facing him. It had been an easy decision to make.
The front page of the special edition had a large picture of Harry James Potter on a self-made gallows in Diagon Alley, hanging with a noose around his neck, the words "this is your fate" in the air above him.
A/N: I'm still working on Beautiful, Broken, Deadly, but it's been very hectic these last few weeks and I haven't gotten much done, unfortunately. If you haven't read that story, please do and tell me how it is. This is just a short little story I've had and might do something bigger with later. Thank you all for reading!