PROLOGUE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, they all celebrated. Hermione, Ron, Remus, even Dumbledore rose out of his enduring sleep of old to dance with some of the first years. I remember it in great detail. The Great Hall was decorated in the finest tapestries Hogwarts could find, and the feast was so wonderful. Steaks and turkey, juices of every kind, and wine. They had the finest wine shipped over from the best vineyards. There were simple foods, fruits and carrots, fish on the side of every platter. It really was the finest banquet in my life.
But then... everyone kind of... forgot about me. About everything. They started history projects on the reign of Voldemort. Children no longer feared walking the halls, and there was yet no more Drama or heroes to look for.
I was... no longer the saviour of the wizarding world. I was just me. Plain old me. Harry Potter, graduate of Hogwarts, seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was only a few weeks of real fame.
Maybe Malfoy had always been right. Maybe I really did like fame. Maybe I was greedy and loved money. I still have my money. I don't have my fame. But I just have to prove him wrong. I feel so selfish and unaware of myself. I thought I knew myself.
I thought I knew...
But now I don't know anything anymore. I berate myself more than people think I do. I wish for Voldemort to be back, for the game of cat and mouse to continue. It just seemed too easy... just... too easy. I never truly thought I could win against the older, more experience wizard. Then again, I never thought I would miss my title as much, neither.
Hermione's looking my way. She seems concerned for my well being. She has her suspicions. I've let my thoughts slip, sometimes, which were really stupid of me. None of them can know. Especially not my friends. Absolutely no one can know. Journal, you don't know how hard it is to keep this façade up. It's just so despairingly hard. I wish someone was here to talk to me about this. It's eating me up inside. I'm not a good person. I've realized that over the past few weeks.
I have to go somewhere else after this... Somewhere where I can rot away with my guilt. This isn't like me. Malfoy really was right. I'm exactly like him. How can I live like this?
That's what I have to ask myself. I don't deserve to even live this nicely. Starting tomorrow, the last day of my 7th year, I will run away, somewhere into the streets of London. Disappear with the very rats of the city. I'll give all of my money to another poor person on the street, maybe take their place. I can't live like this anymore.
---------------------
After closing my heavy journal, and putting it in a suitcase, I took a shower and got dressed. Nodding my goodbye's to Hermione and Ron, and hugging them both with a tear in eye, I made my way to the Hogwarts Express.
For some reason, Malfoy was following oddly behind me. I went into my compartment, and he followed me in. My eyes widened as I sat down and tried my best not to snap at him. It's hard to think you're the wrong person, even after all these years of being able to think...
I could see his gray eyes marking my every breath. I couldn't hold the staring on me any longer.
"What do you want?" I had to stay calm. This wasn't the time to start a petty fight. I just had to get out... get out of this hell of shame. Get away from everyone. I can't stand to be around them any longer...
"I want you to tell me something, Potter. After all these years... all these years of destruction in your life, how have you managed to..." Malfoy stopped in midsentence.
I waited. Was he going to finish? He can't expect me to be empathetic with him all the time. There was no way I would ever be on the same mindset with that git. "To... to what, Malfoy? To not break down? To not beat your head in with a bludgeon? To not run away from my problems? To survive even in the midst of the Dark Lord? Malfoy, I can't read your mind. Don't ever expect me to." I was starting to lose the little patience I had.
His eyes averted to the ground. His chest lifted as he sighed. What was he so nervous about? My eyes returned to its resting place near the window, looking out at the now down-pouring rain. I heard some shuffling but didn't have the forbearance to look his way. I just wanted to forget...
I heard some shuffling after a few minutes, and I still stared longingly out the window. I wish I was the rain... So free... Never having a worry in the world. Just falling to the ground, waiting for heaven to soak you back up.
We were almost to the station. In front of me, I heard a gasp, attracting my attention from the free-falling tears of the sky.
Then I noticed - Malfoy was holding my journal! That beguiling bastard! "Give that back!" I ripped at the thick book, but he nearly dodged the move, seeming to speed read. His eyes widened with every word that formed itself on his lips. His unaudible words soon began to take voice.
"That's what I have to ask myself. I don't deserve to even live this nicely. Starting tomorrow, the last day of my 7th year, I will run away, somewhere into the streets of London. Disappear with the very rats of the city. I'll give all of my money to another poor person on the street, maybe take their place. I can't live like this anymore." He had started softly at the beginning and ended in a winded, yet loud, voice. "Now admit I was right, Potter! About everything. Tell me I'm right, do it now!" His eyes held a bout of pride and accusation in them. I knew he genuinely felt like he had won out over me.
"You had... no fucking right, Malfoy. No right." I glared at him, tried to burn a hole through his annoying blonde head. I had to get my journal back! This wasn't fair.
"Just give me my journal back -" I whispered.
"No! For the first time in my life, I can actually declare that I am right over the famous Harry Potter! But Oh - right. Harry Potter isn't THE famous Harry Potter anymore, is he?" Malfoy, finished with a smug look on his face, threw the book at me, which landed on my knee and then bounded onto the floor.
My embarrassment and shame was at it's highest. I just felt like crawling up and dying. Hell, I wouldn't care if Malfoy flipped out his wand and zapped me with the killing curse right then and there.
But he didn't. So I was left in an uncomfortable silence, not having the self-esteem to bound on him and rip him apart. I slowly picked up my tattered journal, and put it back in my luggage, which I found to have not been zipped up all the way. I closed my eyes and took a long breath. Suddenly, I felt a warmth and weight on top of my body.
"I'll find you, Potter. Be afraid when I do..." I heard Malfoy whisper huskily. As soon as I opened my eyes again to push him off, he was gone, and through the door.
He'll never find me. I'll make sure of that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, they all celebrated. Hermione, Ron, Remus, even Dumbledore rose out of his enduring sleep of old to dance with some of the first years. I remember it in great detail. The Great Hall was decorated in the finest tapestries Hogwarts could find, and the feast was so wonderful. Steaks and turkey, juices of every kind, and wine. They had the finest wine shipped over from the best vineyards. There were simple foods, fruits and carrots, fish on the side of every platter. It really was the finest banquet in my life.
But then... everyone kind of... forgot about me. About everything. They started history projects on the reign of Voldemort. Children no longer feared walking the halls, and there was yet no more Drama or heroes to look for.
I was... no longer the saviour of the wizarding world. I was just me. Plain old me. Harry Potter, graduate of Hogwarts, seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was only a few weeks of real fame.
Maybe Malfoy had always been right. Maybe I really did like fame. Maybe I was greedy and loved money. I still have my money. I don't have my fame. But I just have to prove him wrong. I feel so selfish and unaware of myself. I thought I knew myself.
I thought I knew...
But now I don't know anything anymore. I berate myself more than people think I do. I wish for Voldemort to be back, for the game of cat and mouse to continue. It just seemed too easy... just... too easy. I never truly thought I could win against the older, more experience wizard. Then again, I never thought I would miss my title as much, neither.
Hermione's looking my way. She seems concerned for my well being. She has her suspicions. I've let my thoughts slip, sometimes, which were really stupid of me. None of them can know. Especially not my friends. Absolutely no one can know. Journal, you don't know how hard it is to keep this façade up. It's just so despairingly hard. I wish someone was here to talk to me about this. It's eating me up inside. I'm not a good person. I've realized that over the past few weeks.
I have to go somewhere else after this... Somewhere where I can rot away with my guilt. This isn't like me. Malfoy really was right. I'm exactly like him. How can I live like this?
That's what I have to ask myself. I don't deserve to even live this nicely. Starting tomorrow, the last day of my 7th year, I will run away, somewhere into the streets of London. Disappear with the very rats of the city. I'll give all of my money to another poor person on the street, maybe take their place. I can't live like this anymore.
---------------------
After closing my heavy journal, and putting it in a suitcase, I took a shower and got dressed. Nodding my goodbye's to Hermione and Ron, and hugging them both with a tear in eye, I made my way to the Hogwarts Express.
For some reason, Malfoy was following oddly behind me. I went into my compartment, and he followed me in. My eyes widened as I sat down and tried my best not to snap at him. It's hard to think you're the wrong person, even after all these years of being able to think...
I could see his gray eyes marking my every breath. I couldn't hold the staring on me any longer.
"What do you want?" I had to stay calm. This wasn't the time to start a petty fight. I just had to get out... get out of this hell of shame. Get away from everyone. I can't stand to be around them any longer...
"I want you to tell me something, Potter. After all these years... all these years of destruction in your life, how have you managed to..." Malfoy stopped in midsentence.
I waited. Was he going to finish? He can't expect me to be empathetic with him all the time. There was no way I would ever be on the same mindset with that git. "To... to what, Malfoy? To not break down? To not beat your head in with a bludgeon? To not run away from my problems? To survive even in the midst of the Dark Lord? Malfoy, I can't read your mind. Don't ever expect me to." I was starting to lose the little patience I had.
His eyes averted to the ground. His chest lifted as he sighed. What was he so nervous about? My eyes returned to its resting place near the window, looking out at the now down-pouring rain. I heard some shuffling but didn't have the forbearance to look his way. I just wanted to forget...
I heard some shuffling after a few minutes, and I still stared longingly out the window. I wish I was the rain... So free... Never having a worry in the world. Just falling to the ground, waiting for heaven to soak you back up.
We were almost to the station. In front of me, I heard a gasp, attracting my attention from the free-falling tears of the sky.
Then I noticed - Malfoy was holding my journal! That beguiling bastard! "Give that back!" I ripped at the thick book, but he nearly dodged the move, seeming to speed read. His eyes widened with every word that formed itself on his lips. His unaudible words soon began to take voice.
"That's what I have to ask myself. I don't deserve to even live this nicely. Starting tomorrow, the last day of my 7th year, I will run away, somewhere into the streets of London. Disappear with the very rats of the city. I'll give all of my money to another poor person on the street, maybe take their place. I can't live like this anymore." He had started softly at the beginning and ended in a winded, yet loud, voice. "Now admit I was right, Potter! About everything. Tell me I'm right, do it now!" His eyes held a bout of pride and accusation in them. I knew he genuinely felt like he had won out over me.
"You had... no fucking right, Malfoy. No right." I glared at him, tried to burn a hole through his annoying blonde head. I had to get my journal back! This wasn't fair.
"Just give me my journal back -" I whispered.
"No! For the first time in my life, I can actually declare that I am right over the famous Harry Potter! But Oh - right. Harry Potter isn't THE famous Harry Potter anymore, is he?" Malfoy, finished with a smug look on his face, threw the book at me, which landed on my knee and then bounded onto the floor.
My embarrassment and shame was at it's highest. I just felt like crawling up and dying. Hell, I wouldn't care if Malfoy flipped out his wand and zapped me with the killing curse right then and there.
But he didn't. So I was left in an uncomfortable silence, not having the self-esteem to bound on him and rip him apart. I slowly picked up my tattered journal, and put it back in my luggage, which I found to have not been zipped up all the way. I closed my eyes and took a long breath. Suddenly, I felt a warmth and weight on top of my body.
"I'll find you, Potter. Be afraid when I do..." I heard Malfoy whisper huskily. As soon as I opened my eyes again to push him off, he was gone, and through the door.
He'll never find me. I'll make sure of that.