Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. :)
A/N: This particular fic is meant to be taken place before the end of Voldemort. Just an FYI. :)
Sick
written by ameo
He was sick. Not like catching the common cold or the chicken pox; no, this was a different kind of sick. He was sick of everyone depending on him to be a hero. He was sick of having the fate of the world resting on his shoulders every single day.
He didn't really see why everyone saw him as a hero. He really wasn't anything special. Sure, he supposedly had more powers than Lord Voldemort himself, but he as positive that he wasn't. Stronger than Lord Voldemort, that is. He knew he was slightly ahead in dueling, but that didn't mean anything. It just meant that he was good at dueling, like any normal teenager.
He yearned for a home. A family. He had his best friends and the Weasley's and the Ord--well, the Order didn't count as friends, really. More like acquaintances. But still, it wasn't the same. He yearned to have parents. Real parents. Parents that would love and care for him, that would scold him and give him advice even when he didn't ask for it. He yearned to have a home.
He wanted to be normal. Normal like his best friend Ron Weasley. Normal like his other best friend Hermione Granger. Hell, normal like his arch enemy Draco Malfoy. More than anything in the entire world. He just wanted to be a normal teenager with girl problems. He wanted to date, he wanted to snog, and he wanted to shag.
But most importantly, he wanted to find that special someone, get married, and have exactly five kids. He wanted to make a living and become something, not some hero that had to save the world because of a stupid prophecy.
But he'd already established that he was, in fact, no hero. He was anything but. He wasn't a hero, he had unwillingly led Sirius Black (his godfather) to a fate a good majority of the population didn't want. His godfather was murdered right before him. He wasn't a hero, he had led Cedric to the graveyard of Lord Voldemort's father, where he was murdered by Wormtail.
He wasn't a hero. He was, in fact, anything but.
He was surprised after seeing his picture on the cover of Witch Weekly about a month after Dumbledore died. He was even more surprised when the subscription came with free lightning bolt scar tattoos. And most importantly, he was even more surprised that he had made Witch Weekly's Top 10 Bachelor List. He was number one on that list. He didn't know why, for he wasn't a hero.
Harry Potter wanted to punch something. Badly. He wanted to stop walking down the street and just punch the stone wall until his fingers bled. He just wanted everything to stop. But he kept walking down the street, taking a deep breath with every step. If anyone was watching him, they would see him walk into an alley and never walk back out. About half of the people watching him would've known where he went.
Harry Potter Apparated to the Burrow, rushed to Ron's room, and promptly shut the door behind him. He took his coat off and tossed it over the back of a chair and proceeded to the spare bed, where he promptly fell onto it with as much grace as you can get while falling. He lied there for a long time until Hedwig, his owl as well as companion, flew in with the mail in her talons. She dropped a small bundle on his bed before him and flew off.
Harry Potter opened the small bundle to find The Daily Prophet resting on the top. He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes tightly whilst running a hand through his already messy hair before opening his eyes again to stare at the front page.
ANOTHER ATTACK AT MUGGLE LONDON
over 200 dead, 3 injured
Where is Harry Potter?
Harry Potter wasn't a hero, in fact, he was anything but. He didn't want to save the world, but he knew he had to. He didn't want anymore pressure, but he knew it would just keep coming.
Harry Potter was sick, and he wanted out.