A/N: Alright so this chapter is a little shorter than the rest of them. Mostly because it's a filler. I'm trying to space out the events, because pressing them all together chapter by chapter is just too...blah! It cannot be described!

So thanks muentiger and im-the-doctor for reviewing! You have won virtual fried chicken and waffles (you know what I'm talking about)! Enjoy and remember to review! Also check out my stuff on ! It's the same penname!

I needed to confront Harry. For days now, it has been nothing but images of the same man over and over again. I was starting to get sick and tired of drawing him; mostly because his face disgusted me. Once you look into those deadly eyes, they stay planted in your head. The hardest part was trying to bring it up. Whenever I was with Harry I felt like something was keeping me from asking. Would I hurt him if I asked?

Recently it has just been me, Rosaline, Harry and kid named Neville. No one else would talk to Harry; and they wouldn't talk to us because we talked to Harry. Neville seemed like one of those kids that no one really talked to anyway. I remembered that he was the kid in my Defense of the Dark Arts class. The Cruciatus Curse really did disturb him. I usually don't feel sorry about people I don't know, but I felt sorry for him. There was a lot about him that he wasn't telling anyone.

We all sat by the Black Lake. Harry and I were studying for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Rosaline was reading a random book and Neville was knee deep in the water. He was observing some of the plants there.

"Amazing," he kept saying over and over and over again.

"Neville," Harry said, "You're doing it again."

"Oh," Neville said, "Sorry."

He continued to look at the plant he held in his hands. Rosaline kept flipping from one page to the next; she goes through books like Grant went through Richmond. My observation of her was suddenly interrupted sounds of feet coming our way. I glanced over and saw Ron, Hermione and Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Ron and Ginny stopped as Hermione came closer to us. Harry got up from his spot on the ground and meet to where Hermione was standing.

"Ronald would like me to tell you," she started, "That Seamus told him that Dean was told by Parvati that Hagrid is looking for you."

Seriously? You're going to bring up the he-said-she-said event now? I don't need stupid gossip at a time like this.

"Is that right?" Harry asked, "Well... You can tell him... Wait... What?

Hermione reveals a very confused look, so she returned to Ron's side. They talked quietly and then in few seconds she walked back.

"Dean was told by Parvati that... that..." she paused in confusion, "Please don't ask me to say it again! Hagrid is looking for you."

She then started to walk away.

"Well you can tell Ron-" Harry said.

"I'M NOT AN OWL!" Hermione shouted furiously.

I was a little shocked at her outburst. Hermione has been known to get mad at people, but not explode in their faces. She glared at Harry for a moment, rolled her eyes and then stormed off. For a moment Ron looked a little sympathetic but then it returned to hate. Harry turned back around and sat down. Rosaline returned to flipping through her book and Neville went back to researching his plants. What the hell? They acted as if nothing happened; even Harry didn't seem to care. People here are so weird.

Rosaline left to go to library; she probably was hoping to see Cedric again. Neville had left as well. It was just me and Harry. And it was awkward as ever. I then decided now was perfect time to ask him. I pulled out my sketchbook and flipped to my most recent page. I then placed it on Harry's lap.

"Who is that?" I asked.

Harry suddenly pinched his forehead. The smallest wince escaped from his lips. He shut his eyes tightly and pushed the sketchbook away. I stared at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You don't know much about me, do you?" he asked.

I shook me head, no. Why would I know anything about him?

Harry pushed back his messy black hair, revealing a scar on his forehead. It was red and in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was a rather interesting scar.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"I got this when I was a baby," he said, "On the night that my parents were killed."

My eyes widened. I looked back at his scar. What kind of a death would leave a mark like that?

"Lord Voldemort killed them," he said, "Then he tried to kill me. But I survived and he was destroyed. It left this scar on my forehead."

"I'm sorry," I said, "This is obviously means something to you."
"It does," he nodded, "But it's okay."

"That guy in the sketchbook," I said, "Was that him?"

He nodded and rubbed his scar at the memory.

"I shouldn't have showed you that," I muttered.

"Where did you get it anyway?" he asked.

"Uh..I drew it," I said.

He looked at me in surprise. Of course now more questions were going to come.

"You drew it?" he asked.

"It was from a dream," I lied.

I couldn't tell him about me being a Watcher, so I had to use the second best thing. It sounded reasonable if I said it came from a dream. Imagine his face if I said "I can see into the future, so I'm guessing he's going to come back and kill you. Sorry!" That was definitely not happening. And besides, the future changed with every decision made. So maybe he won't come back.

"Do you think he'll come back?" I asked.

"He's tried before," he sighed, "But has failed in every attempt so far. I know he's going to try again. He'll probably try this year."

"Well if he does," I said, "I hope he fails epically."

Harry chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"Why does he keep trying to coming back?" I asked.

"To gain power," he said, "Take over the world, but mostly to kill me."

"Oh," I said awkwardly, "Is it because you survived the last time?"

"I guess so," he shrugged.

"Don't you ever get scared?" I asked.

"Every day," Harry said, "Because I know that he will get stronger and stronger. And soon I won't be able to defeat him."

"I don't believe that," I said; even though it was possible he wouldn't.

"No one does," he said, "Because I'm the bloody hero that always saves the day."

"You make it sound so bad," I said.

"Being the hero isn't always great," he said, "Everyone depends on you. No one ever looks at you as a normal person. To them you're beyond normal. Then when you let them down, they turn their backs against you. Or because they think you get special treatment because you're a hero."

"No one said being a hero was easy," I shrugged, "A job has it's consequences. Sometimes our destinies aren't what we want to them to be. We could turn out to be heroes, villains, geniuses, or even hobos. The future might change from our decisions, but the true purpose of our lives never change."

"Since when were you a philosopher on life?" Harry questioned.

I shrugged and smirked.

"I can say something wise every now and then," I said.

Then I realized that this was emotional for Harry. He lost his parents at a young age and survived from death. Life growing up must have been terrible. He pouring the saddest part of his life to me, and I couldn't return the favor. Telling him would just get me into trouble. But it made me feel guilty. I would love to tell him about everything. He would be the first person I ever told my life about; since there was no way in hell that I was going to a therapist about this. I'd probably get sent to a mental institute.

I only looked at Harry sympathetically and patted his shoulder. He smiled faintly in reply.

"Well I have to go," I said, "Bye Harry."

"Bye," he said.

I walked away from the lake feeling as guilty as I ever did in my life. He trusted me to tell me how he really felt. It sounded like no one listened to what he really wanted to say. It almost...reminded me of myself.

A/N: Don't forget to review! And go to to check my other stuff (same penname)!