Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for auction prompt - Under Pressure
Word Count - 248
The Weight Of The World
The weight of the world is literally resting on his shoulders. He staggers, trying to hold it up while also trying to keep himself alive but it's difficult. He's done this once before. He's walked to his death, has died, for the people, and still it's not enough.
Still they want more from him.
Dark Wizards on the attack - Harry will fix it.
Money problems - Harry will fix it.
Homeless population has risen twelve percent - Harry will fix it.
He doesn't know how much longer he can carrying holding their hand before he himself snaps. What would they do then, when they've become so used to relying on Harry Potter to fix all the wrongs in the world.
They'd condemn him of course. They've done it before. He has no doubt that they'll do it again.
Don't they understand that one man cannot take responsibility for an entire population of people? Even Kings and Queens of ages past delegated their powers out to others.
He's not a god, but to make the public see that is impossible.
It it terrible that sometimes he dreams of a world where Voldemort won? Where he was laid to rest, his soul long gone to wherever the people he loves are awaiting him.
He knows that no matter his own wishes, he will continue on, holding the world up and staggering under the pressure of the expectations.
And sadly enough, he knows that at some point, he will fail.