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Harry stood facing his enemy.
Lord Voldemort
They were alone, nothing but trees around them.
The Forbidden Forest was empty, no giant spiders, centaurs, unicorns, Blast-Ended Skrewts, though tiny bowtruckles were scattered around the ground.
You know, some people say death is peaceful.
Or the next great adventure.
Or that your soul dies and you're floating in darkness.
Harry didn't care.
Nor did he know which was true.
He didn't want another adventure
He didn't want to be in darkness forever either.
He wanted peace.
He craved it.
The fact that you can close your eyes, and never open them again... Not have to suffer any longer... No more pain, physically and emotionally, the fact that if he gave up right now he would not have to suffer-
But he couldn't
He couldn't give up.
That was wrong.
He had to keep fighting.
He couldn't stop.
He'll never stop.
Because Harry Potter was not a hero,
He was far from it.
He was a surviver.
All his life he's been trying to stay alive, to keep fighting.
But right now, he wanted to stop.
To float in darkness.
Never wake up.
Die.
He had never felt the warm embrace of a mother, or the proudness of a father.
He never had been loved as a child.
He grew up thinking his parents abandoned him. Had been careless and died.
He use to think they were selfish.
That everyone was selfish.
That they were all stupid.
Grown ups sucked.
Everyone- in a way- protected him.
Everyone tried to 'protect' him,
From the truth.
He didn't need protection.
He had long grown out of envy for parents.
He knew he could never have that.
Not as long as he was harry potter.
He has always been on his own.
That is what he was use too.
Being on his own.
He was always- in one way- alone.
Harry Potter was now tired.
He was tired of fighting.
He wanted to give up.
But he didn't.
He kept fighting.
Because Harry Potter was a survivor.