Howdy ya'll! Hey, thanx 4 all the reviews. I feel loved ^-^! This chapter
was really hard. I had to set the stage for my dark, depressed, bad boy
Harry ( and aren't we all dying to see one of those). He'll come along in
chapter 3 or 4.
*************
Chapter 2: How Can I Know Anything, If I Don't Know Myself First? (Christmas Holidays, Hogwarts, Harry's POV)
I toss and turn in my bed in Gryffindor tower. For some reason, I cannot sleep. I slide noiselessly out from between the red silk sheets, so as not to wake the others. I tiptoe over to the window nearest to my bed, and sit on the red velvet cushion of the window seat. The silvery-white moonlight shines through the glass, illuminating the room behind me.
I have been thinking everything over this week. I have had little else to do, while Hermione is at her home, and Ron seemingly off in his own little world. He has been acting quite strange lately. I have caught him staring blankly off into space numerous times, and sometimes he ignores me completely, like I don't exist.
As terrible at it seemed at first, it actually proved to be a blessing. It has left me time to be alone with my thoughts. I need that time alone, too. So much has been on my mind lately, mostly about these past two years, my sixth year and half of my seventh year. Everything's been changing so much. I need some time to sort things out. Now that I have it, I begin to go through the things troubling me one by one.
First, there is the matter of my fame. I am sick of it. What am I famous for, anyway? For a silly little scar? Or for defeating Voldemort numerous times, all completely by fluke? For example, that time with the basilisk in my second year. If Fawkes or the Sorting Hat hadn't come, then I would be dead. And last year, when I met him again on a field outside school grounds. If he hadn't tripped on that rock (I'm still pondering how that happened), giving me time to immobilize him, I would be dead. Even the first time I faced him, when I was a baby, if it wasn't for my mother's sacrifice, I would be dead.
Yet everyone gawks at me as if I'm special or something. I'm not. I'm just a normal, 17-year-old wizard, who just happens to be very lucky. I hate it. I hate all of it. The fame, the fortune, the everything. Sometimes I think everything would be easier if everyone just left me alone. Sometimes I wish I were invisible. Then everyone would leave me alone.
Then, there are everyone's expectations of me. Everyone expects me to be perfect. Everyone expects me to save the world from Voldemort, and to destroy him once and for all. Everyone expects me to be the -est at everything. The smartest, the fastest, the strongest, the bravest, the best at everything. Well, here's some news for you, world. I'm not. I'm not the -est at anything. I'm average. Just plain average. I'm not special at all. 'But,' someone might say, 'look at all your accomplishments. You've faced Voldemort (in some form or another) every year for six years, and you've defeated him every time. You have loads of friends, and you were a prefect the last two years. You're great.' I'd laugh. 'Ha!' I'd say, 'that's what you think. You weren't there the six years that I defeated Voldemort almost completely by fluke every time. And the loads of friends? They only like me because of my fame. I only have two true friends, Hermione and Ron. And I'm not even sure about Ron anymore. I do admit that I am a little proud about the prefect thing, but it seems like anyone can become a prefect these days. I bet even Draco Malfoy could become a prefect, if he wanted.
That brings up another topic of thought. Draco. Yes, Draco Malfoy. I know it isn't my business, but I think something's wrong with him. He has been acting so strange these past two years. Instead of the Draco that I used to know, with the sneering mouth, snide remarks, and the usual gang of Slytherins hanging around him, he has become something different. He has become silent, withdrawn, and solitary. I frequently see him aimlessly walking around the castle, by himself. Once, I saw him sitting by himself on a bench in one of the courtyards. I purposely tripped on nothing in particular, just to see if he would say something sarcastic and cruel, like he used to do. He didn't even smile.
I don't know why I worry. I hate Draco. Or so I thought, until he changed like this. I feel like I'm losing an old friend. Or maybe I feel like I'm losing something else. maybe I worry for some other reason.
I shake my head. "No, Harry." I murmur, "Don't think like that. You do NOT have feelings for Draco Malfoy."
'And yet,' a voice in my head whispers, 'can you be sure?'
'Of course I can.' I think, 'For one thing, I am perfectly straight. I do NOT like other men, never mind Draco.'
'Yet,' the little voice persists, 'you frequently find yourself staring at him. You find yourself wanting to talk to him, to make him laugh, to make him smile, to make him happy. You find yourself caring about what he feels. You do have some feelings for him. Feelings beyond friendship.'
'No!' I mentally yell at the voice, biting my lip in denial. 'Don't say that! Please!'
'All I'm saying,' retorts the voice, 'is that you should reconsider before you think that you know yourself completely.'
'I do know myself.' I think, in a feeble attempt to argue. But the voice is gone. I think about what it said. 'You should reconsider before you think that you know yourself completely,' it said. 'Maybe I should reconsider before I think I know myself completely.' I think. 'Everything has been changing so much, and everything is so strange now. I feel like I don't know anything. But I didn't think I changed that much. I thought I knew myself.' I sigh. 'Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought. And if I don't know myself, how can I know anything at all? IS it possible that I DO have feelings for Draco Malfoy?'
I shake my head. I don't want to think that right now. I stand, and climb back into bed. I close my eyes and relax, trying to get to sleep. In the bed next to me, Ron is mumbling in his sleep, something about 'fried turkey'. Across the room, Neville is snoring to raise the dead. Seamus is mostly silent, though he lets out a little moan every few minutes. I doubt I will get any sleep tonight.
And it's not just because of the noise.
**************
That's it! I know it's short, but I don't care. It's good (I hope) and that's what matters.
Luv ya all!
Grath
*************
Chapter 2: How Can I Know Anything, If I Don't Know Myself First? (Christmas Holidays, Hogwarts, Harry's POV)
I toss and turn in my bed in Gryffindor tower. For some reason, I cannot sleep. I slide noiselessly out from between the red silk sheets, so as not to wake the others. I tiptoe over to the window nearest to my bed, and sit on the red velvet cushion of the window seat. The silvery-white moonlight shines through the glass, illuminating the room behind me.
I have been thinking everything over this week. I have had little else to do, while Hermione is at her home, and Ron seemingly off in his own little world. He has been acting quite strange lately. I have caught him staring blankly off into space numerous times, and sometimes he ignores me completely, like I don't exist.
As terrible at it seemed at first, it actually proved to be a blessing. It has left me time to be alone with my thoughts. I need that time alone, too. So much has been on my mind lately, mostly about these past two years, my sixth year and half of my seventh year. Everything's been changing so much. I need some time to sort things out. Now that I have it, I begin to go through the things troubling me one by one.
First, there is the matter of my fame. I am sick of it. What am I famous for, anyway? For a silly little scar? Or for defeating Voldemort numerous times, all completely by fluke? For example, that time with the basilisk in my second year. If Fawkes or the Sorting Hat hadn't come, then I would be dead. And last year, when I met him again on a field outside school grounds. If he hadn't tripped on that rock (I'm still pondering how that happened), giving me time to immobilize him, I would be dead. Even the first time I faced him, when I was a baby, if it wasn't for my mother's sacrifice, I would be dead.
Yet everyone gawks at me as if I'm special or something. I'm not. I'm just a normal, 17-year-old wizard, who just happens to be very lucky. I hate it. I hate all of it. The fame, the fortune, the everything. Sometimes I think everything would be easier if everyone just left me alone. Sometimes I wish I were invisible. Then everyone would leave me alone.
Then, there are everyone's expectations of me. Everyone expects me to be perfect. Everyone expects me to save the world from Voldemort, and to destroy him once and for all. Everyone expects me to be the -est at everything. The smartest, the fastest, the strongest, the bravest, the best at everything. Well, here's some news for you, world. I'm not. I'm not the -est at anything. I'm average. Just plain average. I'm not special at all. 'But,' someone might say, 'look at all your accomplishments. You've faced Voldemort (in some form or another) every year for six years, and you've defeated him every time. You have loads of friends, and you were a prefect the last two years. You're great.' I'd laugh. 'Ha!' I'd say, 'that's what you think. You weren't there the six years that I defeated Voldemort almost completely by fluke every time. And the loads of friends? They only like me because of my fame. I only have two true friends, Hermione and Ron. And I'm not even sure about Ron anymore. I do admit that I am a little proud about the prefect thing, but it seems like anyone can become a prefect these days. I bet even Draco Malfoy could become a prefect, if he wanted.
That brings up another topic of thought. Draco. Yes, Draco Malfoy. I know it isn't my business, but I think something's wrong with him. He has been acting so strange these past two years. Instead of the Draco that I used to know, with the sneering mouth, snide remarks, and the usual gang of Slytherins hanging around him, he has become something different. He has become silent, withdrawn, and solitary. I frequently see him aimlessly walking around the castle, by himself. Once, I saw him sitting by himself on a bench in one of the courtyards. I purposely tripped on nothing in particular, just to see if he would say something sarcastic and cruel, like he used to do. He didn't even smile.
I don't know why I worry. I hate Draco. Or so I thought, until he changed like this. I feel like I'm losing an old friend. Or maybe I feel like I'm losing something else. maybe I worry for some other reason.
I shake my head. "No, Harry." I murmur, "Don't think like that. You do NOT have feelings for Draco Malfoy."
'And yet,' a voice in my head whispers, 'can you be sure?'
'Of course I can.' I think, 'For one thing, I am perfectly straight. I do NOT like other men, never mind Draco.'
'Yet,' the little voice persists, 'you frequently find yourself staring at him. You find yourself wanting to talk to him, to make him laugh, to make him smile, to make him happy. You find yourself caring about what he feels. You do have some feelings for him. Feelings beyond friendship.'
'No!' I mentally yell at the voice, biting my lip in denial. 'Don't say that! Please!'
'All I'm saying,' retorts the voice, 'is that you should reconsider before you think that you know yourself completely.'
'I do know myself.' I think, in a feeble attempt to argue. But the voice is gone. I think about what it said. 'You should reconsider before you think that you know yourself completely,' it said. 'Maybe I should reconsider before I think I know myself completely.' I think. 'Everything has been changing so much, and everything is so strange now. I feel like I don't know anything. But I didn't think I changed that much. I thought I knew myself.' I sigh. 'Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought. And if I don't know myself, how can I know anything at all? IS it possible that I DO have feelings for Draco Malfoy?'
I shake my head. I don't want to think that right now. I stand, and climb back into bed. I close my eyes and relax, trying to get to sleep. In the bed next to me, Ron is mumbling in his sleep, something about 'fried turkey'. Across the room, Neville is snoring to raise the dead. Seamus is mostly silent, though he lets out a little moan every few minutes. I doubt I will get any sleep tonight.
And it's not just because of the noise.
**************
That's it! I know it's short, but I don't care. It's good (I hope) and that's what matters.
Luv ya all!
Grath