DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything that J.K. Rowling does…aka anything 'Potter'. Also, I don't own the song, Superman, that's Five For Fighting.

I can't stand to fly,
I'm not that naïve.
I'm just out to find,
The better part of me.

It's not like I don't like to fly, I love it, it's just I can't. Order's orders. It's too easy to be seen by muggles or hit by Death Eaters. On the other hand, I don't have any time to fly. My time is taken up between studying for NEWTs, Head Boy duties, and preparing myself for the inevitable final battle. That's going to happen soon, I can feel it.

I think that this will help kick all of the bad out of me-my time with the Dursleys, any encounter with Voldemort, and all the deaths I've seen in my lifetime. That's what I want to get rid of that disgusting excuse for a human. Even if it means killing another-not that Voldemort could be considered human…

I'm more than a bird,

I'm more than a plane,
More than some pretty face beside a train,
It's not easy to be me.

I don't need to be good at Transfiguration to escape from trouble. This year, Professor McGonagall was giving me some private lessons on animagus transformations. I can change into any non-magical animal I want…whether it's a lion, a snake, a badger, or an eagle. And that's the only way I'm allowed to fly, unless I use muggle means, which would prove to be interesting, if I were to take you.

But, as you can see, I may be good looking-as you've told me many times-next to the most beautiful or ugly things, but my life hasn't been easy. And, don't give me that face. I know you've had all your encounters with Voldemort, but they weren't as bad or as many as mine. Not that I'm bragging, or am proud of it…


Wish that I could cry,
Fall upon my knees.
Find a way to lie,
About a home I'll never see.

To tell you the truth, dear, I wish that I could break down and cry. But, that wouldn't be very manly, would it? And, what would the wizarding world think of their savior, if he was a crybaby. Would you judge me? Maybe, if I were to fall on my knees, and break down, no one would notice, and I could just say I was hit with a stray cutting hex? Does that sound okay?

I wish to tell everyone about my life with the Dursleys, without having to break down and cry. I could tell them about this perfect life I had, as a spoiled rotten child, who was pampered beyond belief-I could just use Dudley's life, but substitute more of the important details, like my name, my birthday, my scar, and my weight! Of course, I could tell them all about the life I've always dreamed of, but I'll never get.

Hey, maybe you could give me that perfect life, couldn't you honey…


It may sound absurd,

But don't be naïve,
Even Heroes have the right to bleed.
I may be disturbed,

But won't you concede,
Even Heroes have the right to dream.
It's not easy to be me.

I may sound as if I'm crazy to you, but I hate being famous. Everyone dreams of it, but if you got it like I did, you'd completely agree with me. Sure, maybe if I was a world-famous singer, I wouldn't mind, but for having a bloody cut on my head, who wants that? Did you know, that when it starts to hurt, Voldemort's nearby or 'feeling a particularly strong emotion' as dear old Professor Dumbledore said. It would start to bleed in lots of these instances. But, even worse, I bleed on the inside, losing a lot more than on the outside. It just pours out, filling my body with negative feelings, which he feeds on.

Don't you remember in my fifth year (your fourth) when Fudge told everyone that I was seriously disturbed, messed up in the head, and thought I should be sent off straight off to St. Mungo's. If that doesn't help you remember, does the name 'Umbridge' help? I think that everyone, even you, thought that there was something wrong with me, especially when I broke down in the middle of my History of Magic OWL. But, I was glad that you and the others didn't say anything about it. Hell, you still don't have to say anything now. I think that there was something wrong with me. At least you know the truth, not that lie that Ron fed everyone about me dreaming about being killed by the Giant Squid. I deserve a better death than that, don't I?

Even though I have the right to dream (Even though I wish I didn't) I don't. And I don't want to. Every dream I have at night brings me back awake, completely terrified. And you know what I'm talking about, don't lie. But, during the day, whenever I think of you, I see myself living a life with you, happily, with children, Voldemort-free. How do my dreams sound now? Don't you see how much hard work being the hero is…


Up, up and away, away from me.
It's all right, You can all sleep sound tonight.
I'm not crazy, or anything…

We've already established this, I'm not a nutter. Or a madman. Or anything else you may think I am. Even if you want to go sleep upstairs, instead of here, on the couch, with me, that's okay. Now that I've been with you, I won't have any bad dreams. You've changed all that. You can sleep all the way through the night, without having to hear me scream.

Just imagine, if we had children together, you wouldn't get any sleep. At least until Voldemort's gone. Between me and the child waking up at various hours of the night, screaming ourselves hoarse, I think you'll be the one screaming at us. You are so much like your mother. In some aspects, that's okay, but in others…


I can't stand to fly,
I'm not that naïve.
Men weren't meant to ride,
With clouds between their knees.

That's the muggle in me talking, isn't it. Flying is all fake, and people aren't supposed to be in the air, if not in an airplane or helicopter. Your dad didn't tell you about them? Well, let me…


I'm only a man in a silly red sheet,
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street.
Only a man in a funny red sheet,
Looking for special things inside of me.
Inside of me… inside of me …

Inside of me…inside of me…

Look at this, this is what I had to wear at the Dursleys for pyjamas. I look like I'm wearing a stupid sheet. It was Dudley's Christmas present when we were ten. See, I told you he was huge all along. Anyway, I feel like a nutcase whose acting like Father Christmas. You must be kidding…you don't know who Father Christmas is? Well, I always thought he was a big fat (Literally) meanie, because he brought Dudley piles of presents, and I didn't get anything at all. Wait-no, I did get a lump of coal from him. Very comforting, isn't it?

Did you know that you are one of the only people who keep me here, on Earth? I mean, I feel like digging a hole and finding Atlantis. You must be kidding me, you don't know what Atlantis is, that's unreal! I really should talk to your father about your upbringing. I would have thought that he would have told you about muggle transportation devices, Father Christmas, or Atlantis. On second thought, he may not know about them, and then I'll be the one explaining. Scratch that idea.

But, can't you see me, in my huge red pyjamas, in a hole? Funny, don't you think? Anyway, you are the one who keeps me here and help me find myself. And, I know what myself is looking for right now, do you…


I'm only a man in a funny red sheet.
I'm only a man looking for a dream.
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet.

Damn you, you evil girlfriend of mine! You know what would happen if I got drunk, and you purposely made me wasted. In the words of Hermione, 'You made a real spectacle of yourself, Harry. What must those poor, innocent, first years think, with you running around in those-red sheets, chasing around, 'your dream'? They're probably scarred for life!' What would we do without her? I think we would all be dead, as we would have forgotten our heads somewhere, and run into Voldemort. He's so kind, isn't he? Anyway, don't you make me a 'spectacle' ever again, okay darling? I mean, if the first years are scarred, what about the seventh…


It's not easy ... wu... hoo... hoo...
It's not easy to be me...

And so you see, being the savior of the Wizarding World isn't all it's cracked up to be. Although there are perks, like having you as a girlfriend, it stinks. Also, all the photos, I've been temporarily blinded too many times.

So, in conclusion, I don't think that your dreams were very good, hon, as I've been to Hell millions of times. But, don't worry, no matter where I go, I'll always come back to you Gin.

Does that make sense? I hope it does. But, thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think in a…(Drumroll)…REVIEW! Thanks!