Disclaimer: I don't own anything, 'cos if I did, I'd be rich.
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They don't know me. All they see is what they want to see. I'm the hero, the one who defeated the Big Evil. But no one knows the real me. Inside of me, a dark evil is brewing, harder to control every second.
When I find myself in our common room, alone and in the dark, I wonder. And I hate. I wonder about the fact that I can talk to snakes, and what Voldemort inserted in me that night. I ask myself if the darkness wasn't already there, that it just got an impulse. Then, as I try to dive deeper into myself, something stops me, as if my own mind is protecting me against myself. And then I wonder what could be so evil about me that I need protection from.
At those nights, I hate the Gryffindor tower, and leave for the dark and cold dungeons. I hate the gold and red of Gryffindor, I hate the lion, I hate everything it stands for. I hate the good side of myself, I want to extinguish it, to kill it. But every time I want to rid myself of that good side, every time I come close to doing that, something holds me back. And I have to listen. I can see my hand pull back, while I hover over my head, trying to avoid it.
The real me is evil, and it's getting stronger. At nights, I'm proud of it, I wish for the power it promises and I long for the respect I'll get. The good side of me kicks in then, and reminds me of the things I've got now, and won't ever get if I become evil. Friendship. Hope. But I wouldn't have the main reason for all humans to live, love. Because when I'd ever start to feel it, my evil side would hurt it, wants to punish and destroy it's biggest desire. Because desire weakens and corrupts. And so I pull back within myself, fearing for what ultimately will happen. Just hoping that whenever it happens, the good side of me will be gone.
I don't know what I am. When I ask myself, the only answer that comes to mind is evil. I argue. I try to fight, but I can't for I know that it is the horrible truth.
Evil was rooted within me, blossoming as soon as it got the chance. I can feel the power rushing through my veins, whispering awful promises, screaming to me. In my dreams, blood rules everything. I can see it on my hands, and I lick it off. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. The Good fights, but cannot win. My deepest desire is to release myself, follow my father's footsteps. Become even a bigger Dark Lord than he was. I battled my father and won, a numerous times. My father was the one everybody feared, even Dumbledore. He never showed it of course, but Dumbledore feared my father. He only says his name to show off. I hate him. My father wanted to kill me because I would get more powerful than him, it was written in the stars. He didn't succeed. In every society, it goes against any rule to kill your own father, yet I followed in his footsteps and killed him forever.
Good can restrain me, but not for long. The protection Dumbledore placed around me was not only meant to protect me from my father, but also to protect me against my own rage. And now that it has nowhere to go, it rages within me, consuming every good thing, leaving nothing but ashes. I'm like a phoenix. I will rise from the ashes and I will die in them.
I don't think anyone understands what it is like to be me. To be praised for destroying everything I want to do. I didn't kill my father that night, my mother did. Lily was all that bound him to mortal life, but she left him for the one I got my name from. Harry Potter. Such a normal, mortal name. Like my true father. When she left him, he was destroyed, rid of everything except his black soul.
I will strengthen myself against anything like that. I will not love. I will do anything my father did, but better. I will be truly feared. But for now, I'll have to play up to my role as the hero, and never betray.