Harry Potter? Yes, I remember. That was my name once, before I had to give it up. Before I became an outcast of my own world.
Now, you might say, "Harry Potter? He's a hero, who wouldn't want to be him?" Well, if you knew the whole story, you wouldn't be so eager to give up your own life. I guess there's really no point in holding back the truth any longer.
It all started in my seventh year. I was Head Boy, Hermione, my girlfriend, was Head Girl, I was Quidditch captain, and had near perfect grades. Halfway through the year, Hermione and I were engaged and started planning for our wedding. So, I guess you can say, I had everything a guy could ask for. But, like everything else good in my life, it wouldn't last long.
We were in the middle of a war, classic good versus evil. Many students in our year signed up to join the fight, including my best friend, Ron. I had to enlist too. After all, it was expected of me always to be the one to fight the Dark Lord. The day that we left, I said good-bye to Hermione for what I knew might be the last time.
Life as a soldier was hard. Rations were miniscule, as there were many mouths to feed. My group didn't see many battles, as we were made up of mainly untrained Hogwarts students. In fact, the only true battle we saw, was what was expected to be the final showdown with the Dark Lord. Unsurprisingly, we were put on the front line. Everyone expected me to face the Dark Lord and defeat him. How disappointed they would be.
The Dark Lord was smart in how he sent his army. Rather than put himself in danger by standing on the front line, he sent wave after wave of deatheaters forward to weaken us first. The battle erupted as people from both sides sent every spell from Expelliarmus to Avada Kedavra at each other. As one fought, it was hard to distinguish between friend and foe. It was just a blind shot and a prayer.
I never used Avada Kedavra. It's not that I was afraid that it wouldn't work. On the contrary, I was afraid that it would. I could never live with the memory of killing someone hovering over my head. I only sent out spells that I needed to send in order to stay alive. I was waiting for the final showdown. I was only here to avenge my parents' deaths.
"All right there, Harry?" Ron was at my side, fending off a masked deatheater with a fire spell.
"Just fine," I said, shooting a water spell at my robes, which had caught fire from Ron's spell.
"Sorry 'bout that," Ron said, stopping his spell and looking at me in concern. "Are you okay?"
"Look out!" I yelled, trying to push Ron out of the way, but it was too late. A spell hit him full force in the back, knocking him over. I knelt beside him.
"Ron!" I cried, checking for his pulse, but felt nothing. His eyes stared up at me blankly, showing surprise. I looked up with hatred at the person responsible: a hooded figure standing not far away. They turned and walked away, clearly unfazed by the murder.
I lost it. All desire for revenge vanished in the face of death. I am ashamed to admit, I was afraid. I ran like a scared little puppy. No one saw me leave as the battle was too intense to see much of anything. I hid in the woods and observed the battle from there.
Our side fought bravely, but was hopelessly outnumbered. They were soon forced to retreat. When at last the deatheaters had declared their victory and cleared out, the remains of the good side returned to survey the damage. The ground was littered with bodies, the stench reaching me in my hiding place. I stayed where I was, listening to the survivors talk.
"Oh my god, Ron!" George Weasley yelled, rushing to his younger brother's side. "He's gone. It was bad enough that I lost Fred and Charlie, but Ron was my responsibility. I promised Mum I'd bring him back."
"No use blaming yourself," Seamus Finnigan said, walking slowly through and trying to avoid stepping on the bodies. "It's no one's fault but the person who killed him."
"Guys!" Neville Longbottom ran to join the group, holding a blood-soaked handkerchief to his forehead. "Did you find Harry?"
"Not yet," George said, surveying the scene. "I'm guessing he's one of the ones that we can't identify. You're sure he didn't return to the camp?"
"Yeah," Neville said, "I double-checked. At least he got a heroic death." The others nodded in solemn agreement and they went back to the camp.
I backed into the forest, knowing that I was in danger of being seen. They thought I was dead. If I hadn't overheard that conversation, I might have gone back. But now, I wouldn't want people to think I'm a coward, even though it's true. It's better that they think I died a honorable death. In fact, sometimes I wish I had.
I hid in the forest for a few days, trying to figure out what to do. I final settled on my only option: memory charms. I went to the house of Sirius Black, my godfather.
I explained everything to him. After he was finally convinced that I wasn't a ghost, he agreed to go to help me by clearing out my Gringotts vault and exchanging the wizarding money for Muggle money. After he had done this for me, he also gave me my Firebolt and invisibility cloak, which had been given to him after my "death." He had all of my other possessions, but I didn't need them. I used a memory charm on him to make him forget my visit and left.
I still had my wand with me. I used it to alter my appearance, concealing my scar, dying my hair, and altering my eye color. By the time I was finished, no one would be able to recognize me. I went to some Muggle stores, bought some Muggle clothes, and started my life as an outcast.
I've managed to build myself up to a good Muggle in the past few months. I have a job at a local grocery store and an small apartment in a good neighborhood. My Firebolt and invisibility cloak sit in a separate room, a shrine to the life I once had. I sometimes want to call up Sirius to get the rest of my stuff, but I don't want to have to do more memory charms.
Presently, I walk down the sidewalk of the small Muggle town I have made my home. I carry a large bag of groceries and make a mental note to start saving up for a car. I am not watching where I'm going and bump into someone. We both fall back on our arses. My groceries fly everywhere.
"I'm sorry I sh..." I stop, catching sight of the woman I've bumped into. It's Hermione!
"No, it's my fault," she says, standing up and brushing herself off. Then she notices my staring. "What're you looking at?"
We stand in stand in silence for what feels like an eternity as I search for the right words. I can't let her know who I am. Yet, it seems as if it's already too late. Her eyes widen suddenly as she looks at me.
"Harry?" she asks hesitantly. "Is...is that you?"
I nod silently. There's no point in denying it. She's seen right through my pathetic attempt to disguise myself.
"No, it can't be," she whispers. "You're dead, aren't you?"
I shake my head. She looks left and right before gesturing for me to follow her. She leads me down a dark alley.
"Okay," she says, "explain yourself."
"But, why here?" I ask, wondering if this is some kind of trick.
"I'll tell you later," she says, her voice angry and demanding. "I think I deserve an explanation for why you never came back."
I tell her the truth. She doesn't say a word during my entire story. She just nods once in a while until I finish.
"You don't know what everyone went through looking for you," she says, "what I went through. We searched for weeks, hoping that it wasn't true. And all this time, you were right here..." her voice cracked slightly.
"I'm sorry," I say, and I really mean it. I have never been more sorry in my life. "I didn't know what else to do. You know I still love you."
Hermione rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's too late," she whispers, her voice shaking. She holds her hand up to the light and I see something I hadn't seen before. On her finger, glowing slightly in the light, is a diamond ring.
"You..." I stutter, "you married someone else?"
"Harry, I'm...I'm so sorry," she says, her eyes shining with tears. "I thought you were gone. I was a wreck until Seamus comforted me. When he asked me to marry him, I couldn't refuse. The wedding was last week."
I can't believe this. Not only did I lose my identity, I lost the love of my life, the only person who could ever really understand and except why I left in the first place.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asks me.
"Sure, I'm fine," I give a painful smile, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. "We could never make it work anyway. I can't go back now, not after all this time."
"Yeah," Hermione seems reluctant in her answer. After a moment's pause, she continues. "So I guess I'll see you around."
"Yeah," I say, feeling my heart shatter as she turns and walks away. I've lost her. She's moved on with her life. Though she does not know, she takes my heart with her.
And we all know I person cannot live without their heart. She may not have taken the heart that keeps my body alive, but she did take the one that keeps my soul alive. And that, my friends, that is a different, more painful kind of death.
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Author's note: Yet another short, sad story. What is it with me and depressing people? Also, this is yet another story that has no bearing on what goes on in the other stories. And, before anyone asks, this one is over, the ending is staying sad. Too many fan fictions out there compromise the quality of a story for the sake of a happy ending. Please tell me if I made any mistakes and review review review!
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