Description: James' words to young Harry.
Dedication: to Bri
Disclaimer: Originally it was "Carry on My Wayward Son" by Kansas. I own only the idea of this fic. Sorry more isn't changed.
Carry on
"Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more." The letter read. Harry shared a glance with his two best friends before reading on. The hand writing changed. "Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher. But I flew too high." The hand writing changed back. "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man,"
Harry turned to his friends again. "I hear their voices when I'm dreaming. I can hear them say "Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."
The letter went on. "Masquerading as a man with a reason. My charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know. On a stormy sea of moving emotion. Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean, I set a course for winds of fortune. But I hear the voices say: Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."
"No!" Harry shook his head confused.
It was the other handwriting again, it was his mother's. Obvious now that he looked for it. "Carry on, you will always remember. Carry on, nothing equals the splendor. Now, your life's no longer empty. Surely heaven waits for you."
Harry slammed his head down on the table.