Poppy: peace, sleep, death

It had all begun with a poppy the colour of blood. Or that was where Harry was able to pinpoint the beginning.

Harry didn't know where it came from, but the preservation charm on the single flower told him that someone had left it there intentionally. Whether it was intended for him or not, Harry didn't quite know, but he took the flower with him anyway. He slipped it into one of the textbooks Hermione had insisted he borrow because 'she wasn't going to be helping him with homework anymore'.

It was difficult to believe her. It had been nearly six years since they had become friends, and Hermione had never been able to resist helping them and explaining in excruciating detail why each section of whatever he or Ron had been able to do, was completely wrong. While Harry didn't begrudge her for that, Merlin knew Ron got annoyed enough, it did get tiring after a while.

Especially with Umbridge able and willing to give him a detention for breathing, and the Daily Prophet eager to claw at him with their lies. It was worse that people he had lived in the same castle with for the past six years believed the Daily Prophet over what they had seen for themselves.

It truly was pathetic; not at all different from the Muggle world he had grown up in, with the lies of Privet Drive giving him a history that was more fiction than it was truth. Harry had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that things would have been different in this new world.

But humans are humans, magic or no. They all thrived on exaggerated rumours, and anything that wasn't plain and normal; not caring about the person the rumours were rooted on. Harry was tired of it, tired of the people he was supposed to 'save'. The only thing they had to be saved from was themselves; there was no need to them to pile their hopes on a boy, who admittedly barely knew anything about the Wizarding world beyond Diagon Alley and Hogwarts.

If Harry really thought about it, and he rarely did, even Hogwarts barely taught them anything. All he really knew were a couple of useless charms and spells that would never help anything in reality; he knew the rivalries between the Houses and families, but what use was that when he didn't know friend or foe to the Potter family? He couldn't even say that he was properly a part of the Gryffindor House, considering their rivals were Slytherin and that had been the Sorting Hat's preferred option!

Hermione wanted to do something about Umbridge's teaching methods, or lack thereof, but Harry didn't understand why. If everyone failed the DADA practical at the end of the year, surely that would point out how terrible a teacher she really was, and would the Ministry really allow an entire year to fail the practical portion of their OWL exams with one of their own employees teaching the course? Harry doubted it, so they really didn't have to do anything—Umbridge would sort herself out.

Harry and Ron had left Hermione in the bookstore; Harry tired of listening to her argument, and Ron wanting some peace for a little while. Harry had then ditched Ron with Fred and George, who were eager to drag their brother into the backroom to test some of their products. Harry was extremely glad to avoid that.

Besides, Harry just wanted to think: about boy Tom Riddle had once been, about his own inabilities and lack of knowledge, about everything he was supposedly fighting for, and that curious red poppy that seemed to follow him around. None of it made sense. Knowing as little as he did, none of it seemed like his fight. What would he be defeating Voldemort for? Revenge for his parents' death? For Sirius' death? Cedric's?

Cedric's death rested on him. If he hadn't insisted that they both take the cup, Cedric would still be alive. Had he not fallen for Voldemort's trick, Sirius would still be alive. And his parents… Harry would like to think that they knew what they were getting themselves into when staying in the United Kingdom. They could have gone anywhere in the world, and they could have trusted anyone but Wormtail.

In the end, Harry could accept that it was war, as cliché as that sounded. People died during war, and though the bitterness still lingered, he could understand it. The prophecy implied that he would be the one to 'defeat' Voldemort, and that kind of thing tended to paint a frighteningly large target on anyone's back.

Perhaps it was just the feeling of being overwhelmed that was making him feel this way; that was allowing the doubt in everyone he had trusted to creep in and slowly smother him. There were so many things that people insisted that he must do that Harry wondered what would happen after. After he defeated Voldemort, after the wizarding world was left to its twisted version of peace, after everything had settled down; because Harry doubted that they would be happy with just that.

Would defeating someone even Dumbledore couldn't best mean that he would be a hero? Or would that make him someone to be feared, and eventually 'defeated' himself—perhaps exiled for any small fault that was exaggerated by the fact that he was magically powerful? Harry could believe that was a possible end result, and that didn't make his resolve to actually fight any stronger.

And, in the end, who would actually miss him? Ron would finally get the spotlight he had always dreamed of; Hermione would lose herself in her books again, and they would all move on. The Wizarding World would call him a couple names, studiously ignore Voldemort's presence, until Voldemort's presence was undeniable and they started looking for someone to hide behind again.

So, when Harry wandered away from Hogsmeade, he didn't think much of it; only that he wasn't going back to Hogwarts, and Hedwig would find him wherever he ended up going. Harry didn't even know that much yet, only that he had to leave; he needed a break from all this drama and pressure.

If everyone else was given the opportunity to be unpressured and enjoy life, then so could he; and if that meant that he would have to leave the only place that he had ever been able to call home, so be it. Everyone had to leave home at some point, and this wouldn't be any different from that.

Written for

Wizarding D&D: poppy

YouTubers Quotes Challenge: I have no idea why I'm doing the things I'm doing.