I opened my eyes. Bright. Too bright. I heard my name in the midst of meaningless sounds. Voices chattering. It hurt my head. A dark blurry shape leaned over me.

"Harry? Oh God, Harry can you hear me."

I pushed away at the shape. -Where am I-

I did not say that last part aloud, I am quite certain of that, but something in my expression must have made my confusion apparent. A shrill voice filled my head again. The sounds echoed to such a point that I was unable to string two words together with any proficiency.

"...forest...-spital wing...oh Harry...worried...Lord...you...dead."

"Stop it!" It was too much to take, my head pounded.

Another voice sounded, the tones were clipped and impatient.

"Out...rest...later...frail."

My mind took hold of the last word, and without thinking I mumbled almost incoherently. "'m not frail" Even in my disjointed state I recognized how pathetically weak my voice sounded. I closed my eyes, and unconsciousness overcame me once more.

"Harry, Harry, my boy, I know you can hear me, it is time to wake up."

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces;

I knew that voice, but why was I hearing it? There was no order meeting today...It wasn't Wednesday. Was it? I opened my eyes to be greeted by familiar surrounding. Bright lights, scrubbed floors, bed pans...Hospital wing of Hogwarts.

"Headmaster? What...I graduated...why? Oh God." It came back to me. All the memories from the battle hit me, forcing the air out of my lungs. I felt like I had just fallen off a broomstick.

"Harry, I know it hurts, but I need to know what happened."

He needed to know, he wanted me to relive it. All those bodies, the blood. The surprise attack. I remember apparating back to the forest, but I couldn't recall making it all the way to Hogwarts. Someone must have found me then. With how exhausted I was, am still actually, I was surprised that I did not splinch myself.

I sat up and the room swam around me. My stomach threatened to empty itself. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and waited for the queasiness to pass. Something wet slid down my cheek, I brushed it away. Water, but it was not raining. I dropped my forehead to my knees and hid my face until I could get my emotions under control.

"Harry, it's okay to cry, let it all out. You need to tell someone what happened. I need you to tell me what went on." The calm voice of the headmaster broke into my thoughts.

"No" I calmly said, lifting my now dry eyes to meet his.

"Harry, it is not good for you to keep this all inside." He prodded patiently.

I felt a familiar anger ignite inside of me. The anger that he could keep everything from me, but I was expected to share everything immediately after it happens.

"No." I repeated. I knew I would have to share what happened eventually, but... "Not now." I continued as I saw the headmaster began to argue. "I am not going to explain this twice. I will wait until the press come. I know that I have no way out of that as it is."

"Harry..."

"Headmaster, I am no longer that child that you need to look after and protect. I am no longer the naive student that you can gather information from, but never hand out the same. I fulfilled my destiny, you already know this. For now, the details are mine. Please leave me alone."

The headmaster nodded, and even through my blurry sight, I could tell that I had hurt him. I did not care. He was not there. In the end it was just me, uninformed little prophesized pawn of the war me.

Madam Pomfrey ushered the headmaster out of the room and thrust a few potions in my hand. The nurse clucked her tongue and shook her head as she looked down at me. I sighed and swallowed the potions. My hand fell, the empty potion vials dropped to the floor, and sleep overcame me yet again.

Over the next few days I had many visitors, but each visit seemed to bleed into the next. I had the same conversation over and over and over again until all I wanted to do was escape people as a whole.

Each one is different, but they're always the same.

The only person that I spoke to about the battle was Ron, and then my conversation was limited to the bravery and death of his father. I gave my best friend his father's wand. I don't think I will ever forget the hollow grief filled eyes of my best friend as he tentatively took the wand from my hand. He left me then...he left and did not return. I understood. I wanted to leave too, but I still had to face the vultures to come. The people who make their living by reporting the painful events of other peoples lives. I hate the press. I would not mind them so much if they would just report the truth, but they skew it. They destroy lives to sell papers and increase ratings.

The world has a right to know.

I had put it off long enough. I was well. I had long ago been cured of my magical exhaustion, and had been given ample time to bury my emotions enough to face the world. More than a week had passed since the final battle. I prepared myself and left the hospital wing to face the world. I walked over to the Great Hall. I would not have to wait for the press; they all but lived in the Great Hall, each wanting to be the first to get the story no matter what time of day I should choose to appear.

I in no way felt bad about making them wait...perhaps it was immature, but I felt some sick pleasure at thought that the entire wizarding press had to wait on me before they could go on with their lives. Well, it was not as if my past with them was pleasant. Taking a deep breath I opened the doors to the Great Hall and strode in with my head held high. I would show no weakness. I would not be prey to the predators of the press.

The moment I stepped through the double doors I was surrounded by people, each calling out their questions, each trying to be louder then everyone else, each wanting to be answered first. They made me sick. Before I even made it halfway to the front of the room, I became so incensed that my magic began to roll off of me in waves. I stopped my journey to the podium that temporarily replaced the head table and closed my eyes. I brought my magic back under control, then using the excess power that was trying to escape I visualized a space, a bubble if you will, between me and the people harassing me. I knew it had worked even before I opened my eyes. All around me I heard exclamations of surprise and annoyance. I then opened my eyes and grinned at what I saw, the reporters could get no closer to me then five feet on any side of me. I knew that the fact I did that wandless would not be left unreported. I was slightly irritated to have given out that information. Not even Albus knew that I was capable of more then just basic wandless magic. Ah well, it was worth it to see the shock and aggravation of the wizarding reporters

Quickly glancing to my right and left again, putting on a show of checking out my work, I smirked and continued to my destination. Before stepping up to the podium I glanced up at Albus who gave me a nod to continue on my way the facing the crowd, I turned to speak.

"I know why you are all here. You do not need to ask me any questions, in fact, don't bother. I will tell you what happened in my own words, but if I start getting hounded by questions, I will not hesitate to leave immediately. I know you believe the world has the right to know, but it is also my life, and my life has been torn apart by the likes of you more times than I can count. That may explain my complete lack of respect for any of you." I calmly explained looking out into the crowd with what must have been a cold, stony glare.

"Fame is fickle, but I never wanted to be famous. It was a burden I was forced to bear for no more of a reason then living through my parents' deaths. Congratulations world for making me famous and celebrating what was for me a personal tragedy. Congratulation community for believing in me only when it was popular to do so. Thank you media for questioning my sanity in newspapers, for discussing my love life, and gossiping about my feelings. At least Voldemort only wanted to kill me, you tried to destroy me. Yet here I stand, your savior. The killer of a Dark Lord that you created through neglect, and disregard of a person's emotional life."

I was rambling. I knew I needed to get to the point. Taking a deep breath, I set aside my antipathy and brought my speech to the story I came to tell.

"Anyway, this is not the time for my resentment. First, I will confirm, Voldemort..." everyone in the room gave a collective gasp and people began fidgeting and murmuring amongst themselves. "Voldemort!" I said raising my voice pointedly. "Is dead. He will not be returning. I expect you to quote me on that. None of this 'You-know-who' or 'He-who-must-not-be-named' nonsense. Your fear is what gave him power. Making it so everyone is so afraid to fight him is what kept him in power so long." I was getting off the point again.

I dove into the story. Relating to the reporters how the aurors who had been sent to accompany me home from Hogwarts had been ambushed not too far for the school. I explained the wards that were set up to keep any of us from escaping as well as to keep help from coming to us. I named the death eaters that I had known were there. I related the bravery of those who had fought and gave their lives to destroy Voldemort…and protect me.

Here I paused, for a moment I found myself back on the grassy plain; the ground was once again littered with the dead. People I knew lay there, people I had come to respect and care for.

Forcing myself back to reality I concluded my report with the death of a vengeful old man, Tom Riddle.

I was done speaking, it was obvious. Since the reporters no longer had to worry about me not finishing my story they shouted questions from all around the room.

"Mr. Potter, what went through your mind as you saw the Dark Lord die?"

"Mr. Potter, do you have any plans for the future?"

"Mr. Potter! What would your parents say if they saw you now?"

"Mr. Potter!"

"Mr. Potter!"

"MR. POTTER!"

Vultures. I turned to leave before the feeding frenzy could really get started. Keeping my shield around me I walked straight through the crowd. A couple people thought that they could stop me by placing themselves in front of me, not moving out of the way. It did not work; the spell that I had protecting me just knocked them away as I walked on.

They mean me no harm but it's time that I faced it:

I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. I decided that I would wait to leave until after I talked to Dumbledore, therefore I made my way back to the Hospital Wing.

Within minutes of my entering the Hospital wing I found myself with an armful of Hermione. My friend had somehow launched herself into my arms and was shaking, tears running down her face.

"Oh Harry, it must have been so terrible!" She said as I tried to regain the breath that she knocked out of me.

"'Mione, it's okay…really. I just really need to be alone for a while." I said as I pried my friend's arms off me.

Hermione gave me a disapproving glare and I held in a sigh as the lecture I could tell would be accompanying began to spill forth from her mouth. I really did not want to hear anything on the matter, but I stayed silent knowing that saying anything would either prolong the harangue or it would cause enmity between us.

"Harry, you do not need to be alone. After such a horrific experience you need to embrace people again or you will turn inward and lose your connection with people. You can't hide away from everything." She lectured.

I focused my expression to give off the appearance of listening and found myself lost in thought. She and I were the same age, but suddenly I felt as if I were so much older. She was still a child, I realized. Being my friend had forced her to grow up faster than most, but she still had the innocence of her youth. I felt as if I had lost that…but then again, did I ever really have it to begin with?

"…snap with Ron, or there still are plenty of things to research with me." Hermione brightened at the idea. "Everything will go back to normal, Harry, you'll see. Better even! You won't have someone trying to kill you every year!"

"Hermione thanks, but I just want to be alone right now." I continued when she looked like she was going to protest. "I have to speak with Dumbledore soon, Hermione." I said softly. "I need to collect my thoughts."

Hermione nodded stiffly and made to leave the room. She paused at the doorway and turned around meeting my eyes with hers. "Harry, you know that I love you right? You are one of my best friends; I am just worried about you." Hermione acknowledged my nod with a smile that never reached her eyes, then turned and walked away.

I felt hollow inside. A feeling I have been becoming well acquainted with lately. Memories of the times that I shared with Ron and Hermione raced through my head. The years I spent with them were some of the happiest times of my life.

They'll never allow me to change.

I was no longer that person. I could not don the mask of unshakable faith in life. I could not pretend that I hadn't been affected. Doing so would leave me forever as hollow inside as I felt now. I could not do what she wanted me to…it would no longer be me.

I felt torn inside. Part of me did not want to disappoint my friends, the people who I had known and cared for all of my wizarding life.

Now though, there was another part of me, a part that had seen and done too much. That part of me saw life as more than games of exploding snap and sugar quills. Life was deeper, darker, it was a channel that everyone had to cross and I was drowning in the middle of it. How could I have water fights with my friends when I was too busy trying to stay afloat?

I did not want to think about it. I walked over to the bed furthest from the door and pulled the curtains closed. It would probably be an hour before Dumbledore came to find me. He had too much to deal with at the moment with all the reporters residing in the Great Hall. I had time to get some sleep. It was surprising how drained I felt after such a short excursion. Reliving the memories of the battle seemed to take almost as much out of me mentally as living through it did. More actually now that I think about it. Then I did not have time to focus on the grief that I felt when the people I loved were killed. Now however, the scenes just keep repeating themselves. We were outnumbered; there was nothing I could have done to prevent it! Ha, maybe if I keep telling myself that I will believe it.

No, I will not sink into self pity. I sank into the bed instead, feeling the cruel red eyes of my fallen foe watch my every move. It was a struggle to believe that he was finally gone, that I did not need a bodyguard tailing me everywhere I went. After years of imprisonment, first out of hatred from my relatives and then out of protection from Dumbledore, it was so hard to believe that I was finally free.

My eyes burned with an emotion that I could not identify. Was it the happiness because I was free? Was it the fear of what that freedom might entail? Was it the relief of everything finally being over, or was it sorrow for the people who gave their lives for the cause?

So many things were going through my head. For the second time since I had returned to Hogwarts tears were running down my face. This time I did not try to stop them, I just let them come. For the first time I really truly grieved for the loss in my life. I grieved for Cedric, the boy who never had a chance to live. I grieved for Sirius, for Lupin, for Tonks, for the Weasleys...for myself. I let myself break down...and it helped.

I had been holding it inside for so long, burying it until there was nothing left to bury it under. I was not suddenly joyful, but my head was clear.

I understood what I was feeling now, at least to a better extent. I also understood that I could no longer stay. If I stayed in any part of the wizarding world, I would be celebrated, hunted, loved, and hated. This world that I spent my life saving would always place me as an outsider, someone to be revered not invited to dinner. If I ever really genuinely want to be able to be myself, then I would have no place in this world.

But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong.

It hit me as a total complete shock. It shouldn't have, but it did. I stood from the bed and pulled back the curtains surrounding it. It was time to go; I was not going to be coerced into staying around while others manipulated my life.

My trunk had long ago been recovered from the site of the battle. It was chipped and badly scratched from the flying curses, but still usable. I shrunk the luggage and set off to the statue of the one eyed witch. I would not have to retrieve Hedwig; she would probably be waiting for me where ever I ended up. I briefly thought about writing Albus a note, but I knew that he had probably already anticipated my departure. Sometimes I think the old man knows me better than I do.

I tapped the witch with my wand and spoke the password. The long walk to Hogsmeade seemed to take no time at all, and before long I was in Honeydukes sporting the icy glare I had learned from Snape. I was inwardly amused at the reaction of the people who saw me. Taking one look at my expression the majority of the people around me would start backing up. Now I knew why Snape used it so often, easy way to avoid nosey people.

I made my way to the Three Broomsticks and paid to use their floo. Sensing the elation of my pending freedom, I felt a small smile adorn my face and clearly called out, "Diagon Alley!"

I'm moving on.