Summary: Post OotP (not HBP): Harry's sixth year is over. With no encounters from Voldemort still, Harry begins to wander what the meaning of his existance is. He finds his truth with his dead godfather. Voldemort couldn't be more pleased.
Rating: T, for Harry being...well, OotP-ish.
N/A: See end of fanfic.
Thanks: To my betas, Danielle and Abby. :grin:
Hero
The school year was ending. In the courtyard the trees were already crisping from the heat of summer while the spring showers began to dim out of the weather. Everything about the closing of the year was just hitting the boy who lived straight in the face when he realized that nothing had happened this year.
Nothing.
"Strange, isn't it?" Harry turned his attention to his best friend Ron, the boy sitting across from him who was stuffing himself with assorted meats from the feast. Hermione kept her eyes on her plate, almost afraid to catch Harry's gaze. She knew that her famous friend wasn't quite himself lately, and the diminishing Hogwarts' school year wasn't helping his mood.
"No. Not strange. Rather typical, actually." Ron dropped the chicken leg from his fingers carelessly, gawking at Harry with his mouth wide open. Hermione, also appalled by the comment, looked up from her full plate with a disgusted look on her face. The flame in her eyes didn't seem to bother Harry; he felt her glare pass through him like everyone else's stares.
"Harry, just because we ACTUALLY had a normal year at Hogwarts doesn't make it TYPICAL!" Ignoring the girl, Harry reached for another piece of chicken, clamping his teeth over the tender meat. Ron seemed oblivious to Hermione's radiating anger as she stood up from the Gryffindor table, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. With one more livid look at the boy who lived, she stomped out of the hall, drawing attention from the other students and teachers. Harry, still unfazed by the witch's fury, kept biting into his chicken leg almost lazily, grinding the white meat in his mouth continuously. Ron had only began to process what had happened, feeling rather stupid in his present condition. He started to say something to his best friend, trying to cool some of the heat burning in Harry's mind. But before the red head could utter a word, the stubborn hero had already begun to speak again, sarcasm dripping from his every word.
"I'm sure that you're disappointed that you weren't able to show off this year, aren't you?" Bemused, Ron remained silent, trying to control the pit of anger that was still present from his fourth year.
"You're always dying to make yourself look better than the rest of your family-"
It didn't take long for Ron to stand up in a rage, slamming his fists onto the wooden table.
"Harry, what the bloody hell is wrong with you!" The child refused to answer, still glaring down at the floor of the Great Hall, mouth still mincing the chicken clogging his throat. Ron, feeling the same cold shoulder that Hermione had walked away from, followed suit, leaving the boy who lived with the rest of the Gryffindors. The others stared at him wildly, unable to understand why Dumbledore's Golden Boy was being such a jerk-off. Harry didn't seem to notice their stares; he reached for a biscuit from the bread basket. Dumbledore's stare, however, kept Harry very quiet for the rest of the feast, biting into the child's head like cold iron. As soon as the boy was finished, he got up from his seat and made his way outside, unable to bear the sad disappointment sinking in his Headmaster's crystal eyes.
-
"Outside alone again, are we?"
Harry didn't bother to look up. He kept his gaze on the Black Lake, staring beneath the inky surface. The reflection of his own glaring eyes didn't intimidate Harry, but instead amused him. He continued to glare at the water, hoping that his own heated glare would burn through his skull.
"You know, burning a hole through your skull won't help matters. You'll still be a dead man like your precious godfather." With an old fire rising in his chest, Harry turned towards the glowering voice, letting his forests burn the already enflamed charcoal gaze of his Potion's Master. Snape glared down at his least favorite student, enjoying the feel of other's anger. The Slytherin head felt that Harry's hatred was his father's hatred, an abhorrence that the slimy professor used to live for. Stepping closer to the lake's bedside, Snape let his own gaze slip past the black water and into the depths of the mere. A special satisfaction dripped from the professor's pitch stare into the river, causing the water to quake under his watch.
"Why don't you go back into the Great Hall and fool the Headmaster? That seems to be the only thing a traitor like you is good for." Harry didn't bother to return the Potion Master's sudden glare. In a failed attempt, the Gryffindor tried to get up and return to his dorm room before an argument commenced. Snape, on the other hand, pulled his student up by the arm and held the child securely in place. Lowering his face so it was level with Harry's, Snape glared into Harry's lost forests, reading the unprotected boy's every thought.
"Your little charades won't last much longer, Potter. If you don't keep yourself in line, you might find yourself ensnared by the Dark Lord's plans." Eyes going back into focus, Harry truly looked at his professor, trying to keep some of his secrets in the back of his mind. Understanding the child's attempts, Snape dug deeper into Harry's thoughts, finally pulling out the boy who lived's most precious truth. With a thin grin that smeared across his face, the Death Eater smirked, enjoying how the boy was currently struggling under his hold.
"You want to die now? The wizarding world's hero wants to fall by its Dark Lord's wand?" Harry avoided Snape's amused onyx orbs that only reflected his own saddened look. Addicted by the feel of victory, Snape released the boy who lived from his strong grasp, letting the child fall to the grass in a cluttered heap. The Death Eater began to walk off, savoring his success, not bothered by Harry Potter's exultant grin hidden beneath his mask.
-
"Hey, here he comes."
There was a brief silence in the Gryffindor common room. Yawning, Harry looked past the calmer Ron and Hermione, blocking the staircase in the corner of the room. He tried to step past them to get up to his dorms, but he was cut off and shoved backwards by the taller red head. With a disgruntled sound emitting from his throat, Harry glared at his two friends, emeralds filled with a sickened aversion.
"Well? Want to comment more on how strange our sixth year was?" He fought the chance to glance over at Ronald's swimming orbs, hoping to find a trace of hope in the watery grey seas. "Don't you want to tell me how dull our lives have become?"
"Harry, stop it! We didn't mean it that way-!" Hermione was quickly cut off by the annoyed hero who was already shaking with fury.
"We? We! Since when did only you and Ron group up on me? Since when did YOU consider Ron's thoughts as your own?" Trying to get up the stairs again, Harry screamed as Ron pushed him harder than before, causing him to hit the floor on his side. The others watching the tiff, trying to ignore as the famous boy who lived picked himself up again in a heated wrath. Ron tried his best not to grin at the boy who lived's fall.
"She seems to favor me, Harry." Ron grinned, unable to take the pleasure filling his gut. Both Harry Hermione were taken aback by the red head's words. Ron, consumed by his victory over his famous friend, basked in glory, letting every second engulf him in a sensation of pleasure.
"What's THAT supposed to mean?" Ignoring the frizzy haired girl, Ron continued to stare at Harry in a superior manner.
"It seems I won for once, Harry."
Disgusted, the boy who lived turned, stomping out of common room. Despite Hermione's protests to Ron's crazed ideals, Harry screamed over his shoulder before slamming the portrait shut, hoping from the depths of his heart to never see his so-called friends again.
"Then keep your reward! See if I care when we all fall!"
A bitter silence fell over the Gryffindor corridors. Then, in a moment of truth, a sudden realization flooded all of the students in the room. Some tried to chase after the furious
Gryffindor, but none succeeded. They all knew what had just happened.
They had lost their hero.
The room was washed in darkness, consumed by the night. Everyone trailed off to their beds, dread filling each person's nightmares in a sinisterly manner that made them all wake up screaming.
-
A constant anger burned in Harry chest as he made his way down the hall, not minding the other's wistful stares. He knew that storming out like that wasn't the right thing to do, but the fallen hero was simply tired of it all. Ever since the end of his fourth year, Harry felt that his life was just a pit of misery that everyone enjoyed feeding off of. Instead of them feeling the guilt and sorrow, they just knew that Harry Potter, the bloody boy who lived, had this horrible feeling of loss that they would never have to endure. Harry was sick of everything that his friends and so-called family left him with to bear. Now, in a fitted rage, the child made his way to his Headmaster's office, ready to end the worst of his life.
After numerous tries at the password, the Gryffindor finally spat out a random sweet (Berry Bubblesworth, a new creation made the two famous Weasley's twins in their joke shop) that promptly made the gargoyle jump from his guarding post. Making his way upstairs, Harry didn't bother to fix the portrait he accidentally swiped with his swinging elbow, which earned him a holler from the disgruntled wizard. He ignored this as he reached the top of the flight, glaring directly into the eyes of his Headmaster. Dumbledore, sitting at his great desk amongst the strangest of objects, was avoiding the child's eye contact. If he didn't have the slightest control, Harry knew that he would repeat what had happened last year the office after Sirius had died.
Another dread filled the hero. Trying to ignore the new beat of dismay, Harry walked closer to the wizard's desk, wanting to see those great, blue eyes that stared at him in misery most of the school year.
"Professor Dumbledore." The elder man refused to lift his gaze from the papers that littered the middle of his desk. Harry ground his teeth painfully together, trying to keep the images of him destroying the office out of his memory.
"I've been wondering why you've been ignoring me this whole year. And why you did the same last year." The old man shook slightly before reaching for another paper to read. Harry knew that the hatred burning in his heart wasn't anything new this time; it was the same disgust he felt at the ending of last year when he had learned he was used by Voldemort AND his Headmaster for certain tasks.
"Also, I want to know why you keep Snape on your staff even though you know he's still loyal to Voldemort." It appeared that Dumbledore took that comment seriously. Without catching his gaze, Dumbledore softly replied, most attention occupied by the collection of documents in front of him.
"Professor Snape, Harry. And his loyalty is certainly with us. You have no reason to-"
"That Death Eater is NOT faithful to the Order of Phoenix! He's…" Words failed Harry in the time of need. He tried to find what he wanted to say, but nothing seemed to fit exactly how the boy who lived was feeling. Dumbledore waved the child away, still ignoring Harry's raging forests.
"This isn't of your concern, Harry. Now, it's time for you to retire to your dormitory. Curfew has passed."
Harry couldn't look at him. Biting off the saddened hatred that was built up in his chest, the hero turned his heel on the Hogwarts' Headmaster, not noticing as the crystal orbs behind spectacles finally lifted to face him after his head was turned, a cold feeling of sorrow glistening from those saddened eyes.
"Goodbye, Harry."
Harry didn't hear Dumbledore's last. He was too lost in his own thoughts to be bothered by an old geezer's words.
-
The hero retreated to the only place he had left. Despite the time of day, Harry knew he would be welcomed at Hagrid's old hut in the middle of the school grounds. And a part of Harry hoped that the friendly giant would seize the only hope he had left for this school before it disappeared within his grasp.
With a knock on the door, it wasn't long before the large man opened the door with Fang at his side. Just one glace at Harry made the half giant step aside and let the child through without the usual complaint. For some reason, the Care of Magical Creatures professor could sense a disturbance in the Gryffindor's stride, so he didn't debate the boy's visit. Starting up a cup of tea, Hagrid sat down across from Harry, eyeing the enraged child with curious orbs.
"Is something the matte, arry?" The hero nodded, unable to look into his large friend's beetle pits. He knew he had something to say, but the words couldn't formulate in his head properly. A heavy silence weighed over the two until Hagrid spoke again, understanding.
"Is this about Professor Snape?" Harry nodded. The suddenly knowledgeable half giant continued, remembering Ron and Hermione's sudden distance from their greatest friend.
"And Ron nd Hermione?" Another nod. Harry had begun tracing lines on the wooden table.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry could only half shrug at that comment. The way his elder Headmaster had been ignoring him wasn't really the top of his list of problems. Even so, Hagrid summed up the rest of the ordeal in one last sentence, finally hitting Harry in the hardest of ways.
"This is about Sirius, isn't it?"
Harry couldn't reply. He couldn't even shake his head in response. The heavy weight planted in stomach was beginning to lift and make sense to the confused child.
Hearing the water boil, Hagrid got up quickly to turn off the burner and make his tea. In that time, it dawned of Harry what he really should be doing, a realization that made his previous attempts feel pointless. Getting up in a wild hurry, Harry dashed out the door ignoring the half giant's hollers sent after him. The hero continued to run in a rushed hurry, hoping that he wasn't too late to finish what he had started.
-
Stealing a handful of Floo Powder from teacher's lounge (Harry had learned earlier in the year where they kept their traveling devices), Harry flooed himself to the Grimmauld Place. Not minding the dust that immediately clouded his vision, Harry rushed towards the upper floor of the house, stairs creaking under his weight. Throwing the door open in the farthest corner of the top floor, Harry noticed a sleeping Hippogriff lying in the center of the room. In one large stride, the hero made his way over to Buckbeak, not bothering the proper manners for approaching a Hippogriff. Luckily, Buckbeak still remembered the child from before, so he was not bothered by his close presence. Just when Harry was about to wake the great beast completely, a chuckle slipped from another in the room. The child turned on his heals immediately, wand raised and searching for the intruder. The hissed voice seemed amused by the boy's intentions.
"You're ready the fly away? To escape this world and go into Sirius's?" Harry shivered, trying to ignore the intense pain from his scar. From the shadows, Voldemort revealed himself, a thin grin hidden between his lips. Harry could no longer move. The Dark Lord continued his decent, scarlet slits beaming at his prize.
"You, Harry Potter, are a foolish child."
"And a worthless hero."
Harry already knew that. He helped Voldemort in his speech, not noticing the serpent's heavy contented pride.
"I'm not meant out to be the Wizarding World's savoir. I wasn't even made out to be a decent friend. By lying to everyone and even myself, I make Harry Potter a sad excuse for anyone's supposed hero." The cold feeling in the back of Harry's mind was growing, evolving into something more drastic than before. Voldemort's joy was growing with every passing second as he watched the hero fall from his high place. He couldn't stop himself from grinning.
"So you're meant to end it all?"
Harry could finally look up to his parents' killer. Finally, there was a bond between the two murderers that held the same bond, a connection only villains share.
"Yes. I am." He began to wake the mighty Hippogriff. He could feel the end coming closer; the finish of the story finally making its appearance. But for some reason, Voldemort shattered that ending, making his own instead.
"No. This hero doesn't get to die yet." Confused, Harry glanced over to the Dark Lord, eyes swimming in pain from his scar and heart. Before he could do anything else, a quick "Stupefy" was muttered, leaving the boy who lived prostrate on the dirty floor. With a flick of his wand, Voldemort left the rotting house at Grimmauld Place, London, an idea for a new ending filling his mind with such glee that it numbed the hero's senses in a relaxing dull, starting a new beginning for the boy who lived.
Another hero fell while another Dark Lord rose.
Voldemort couldn't help but smile.
N/A: Yes, the ending was strange. This was quite the random one-shot. And it was VERY long (for me, anyway). Hopefully others can make sense out of it.
Tell me what you think...and if you understand exactly what happened. :sweatdrop: