DISCLAIMER: JKR, I love you, but dagnabit, I really need you to return my calls! I can feel it within me…Harry really should be mine. *sigh* For now though he belongs to her and, God bless her, she's at least up for sharing in this realm. Thank goodness for that.
A/N: Much thanks goes out to my buddies and, I'm happy and proud to say PARTNERS, Cindy and Sara. I've been working on this story for a while, and they have given me a wonderful little boost by saying they love it! Coming from them, that means the world to me! Thanks ladies.
This is just the beginning. I don't know how long the story will be, but I have the next part almost complete. I hope you enjoy it. Comments are always welcome.
Thanks and take care,
H_HrFan
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Prologue
It ended. It was finally over. His destiny had been fulfilled at long last, and the remainder of the wizarding world could live in peace. The Muggles, thankfully still living in their tiny boxes, oblivious to the magical world surrounding them, could continue to sleep peacefully in their beds. The war was over, the forces of evil had been destroyed, and one man stood precariously on the edge of a great abyss. To topple into it would mean that good won out, but at a great price. Harry Potter fought against the black hole that threatened to consume him, in the only way he possibly could….
Little more than a week before Harry was to leave Hogwarts forever, the final battle had begun. Voldemort had rallied some of the most feared creatures imaginable to fight alongside him. His army was formidable. But none of that mattered. Only a handful of people knew the truth - that regardless of the strength of the army, the battle would come down to two people…the epitome of good versus the epitome of evil. Voldemort, being the man-snake that he was, would have to confront Harry face-to-face. He would have to shed yet another layer of snake-like skin, this one, the layer of fear. If the forces of evil were to win, Voldemort would have to set aside his fear of dying and risk everything by facing straight-on, his greatest threat to victory. Harry Potter was prepared.
The road was long, the battle fierce, both sides suffered innumerable casualties. The giants and the trolls were nearly eradicated as species. But, just as was foretold, one lived…the other was annihilated. Voldemort took a good many men and women with him. At the exact moment of his death, the dark mark shot high into the sky, the fighting stopped as everyone stared in silent wonder. The death eaters began to cheer their master's victory. As they stood, staring at the emblem that had for so long been a part of their lives, chaos and confusion ensued. The mark exploded where it hung, suspended in the air above them, and the hold that the Dark Lord had over them began to crumble. What had once linked them as a formidable, single-minded family had begun to tear them apart individually. They began to tear at their skin where the dark mark still burned. Their thoughts became maniacal as they pulled at their hair and the flesh of their scalps, trying to make sense of the insanity. The Aurors and the commoners on the side of good watched in horror as the flesh became scratched and torn. All around, witches and wizards began casting binding spells to put a stop to the ensuing madness.
The scene was one of utmost horror. The lesser of Voldemort's followers ran in fear, scared that they too, just through association, may end up a scarred mass of human flesh like the Dark Lord's most faithful. Many, on both sides of the battle, sought help for their mental well-being. Harry and those closest to him were whisked away almost instantly by Dumbledore and a handful of members from the Order. They were spared the worst of it, although they did bear witness to some of the most volatile displays of human behavior known to man.
Now that that the battle was over Harry didn't know anymore what he was supposed to do with his life. He'd somehow missed hearing the prophecy that told him what he was expected to do once Tom Riddle was defeated. After 17 years, did they really expect him to figure it out on his own when he'd never had the opportunity to make decisions for himself before? It all seemed so freeing and yet so frustrating at the same time.
The prophecy. That damned prophecy. It foretold that one could not live while the other survived. Now only one survived. Survived only…no one ever said a bloody thing about the survivor actually living. The more Harry thought about it the more he began to question everything he ever thought he knew. Because now it all seemed a lie. At the end of the battle, Harry lay in a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary, well enough to join in the celebrations, but unwilling to participate. He lay there, silently contemplating his future.
Apparently he'd always had lofty goals. Stemming from a time before he was born, his goal was to become the defeater of the greatest evil known to the wizarding world; a lofty goal for a child still in his mother's womb. His entire life was spent preparing for the inevitable conclusion to that battle…destroy or be destroyed. He was born into it; his destiny was sealed long before that glorious day in July when he was delivered into his mum's anxious, loving arms.
Harry was, in fact, training for that inevitable day from the very beginning. Although he was unaware of it for many years, the time with his parents had taught him about love and had instilled in him an innate goodness that would follow him throughout his tortured life. Living with the Dursley's had taught him not only patience and tolerance, but how to believe in himself when it appeared that no one else ever would.
Living with the Dursley's had, in fact, prepared him for the worst…the day when the world he'd come to love, the one he'd finally felt a part of, turned its back on him and the people lost faith in their `hero'. So much of his life revolved around a lousy, damnable scar that `defeating' Voldemort as an infant, had cursed him with. It could make him or break him, literally from one day to the next. A hero one day, a crazed, attention-seeking, misguided lunatic the next. Now, he no longer wondered or cared what anyone thought or said about him. All he wanted was to discover for himself just exactly who he truly was.
Hero…it was not a title he welcomed, it was a title he'd become accustomed to. It was something he'd come to accept because he'd been unable to find a way to rid himself of it. He'd been a hero since that fateful night when his parents died to save him. He never quite understood how that made him a hero. In his mind, his parents were the heroes.
Crazed, attention-seeking, misguided lunatic wasn't exactly a title he welcomed either, but occasionally it was nice to be thought of as normal. There were a lot of those types of individuals out there. However, the world seemed to always be in short supply of heroes, and oftentimes the burden could be overwhelming. He rather liked it when the wizarding world dropped him down a peg or two. It was when they tossed him to rock bottom that he had a little more trouble accepting his role.
After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry was overcome by dreams of a different nature. He saw himself standing in the middle of a darkened room, surrounded by doors leading nowhere. He was shouting, "What now? What happens now that it's over?" The only response was that of silence. In his dreams he was alone and directionless. He was confused. He didn't know enough about himself to determine what it was he could do with his life, much less what he wanted to do with it.
He felt his world come crashing down around him and his life begin to spiral out of control. It's how he found himself standing on the edge of the abyss. One false step, one slight stumble and he would be lost forever. He looked for solace in the only place he'd always been able to find it before…
He would close his eyes and picture what had always brought him the most happiness, what had always kept him remembering that he was not alone. It was what had driven the dementors away and what had saved his life more times then he could possibly hope to remember. Her smile…his laughter. Her eyes…his mischievousness. The way she looked at him when he'd done something he knew she wouldn't approve of…the fierceness with which he would strategize during a chess game. Hermione and Ron…the two people that mattered most to him in the world. For many years he thought he'd never get the opportunity to meet just one person that he could share something with. Somewhere along the way, someone smiled down on him and gave him two. His blessings were greater than he'd ever imagined they could be, and the fact that both Hermione and Ron had survived beside him was his saving grace.
For them, he knew he had to find his way. Their lives had always been in danger, simply because one was Muggle-born and the other was from a family fighting against Voldemort's quest for domination. Just through association with him, their status changed from danger to grave danger. Neither of them questioned their desire to stick with him throughout. Jealousy had, of course, seeped in a time or two over the years, but the thread that held them together had never come close to being severed. Together they were his reason for being. It was high time he found a way to make things within himself right, so he could be there for them the way they'd always been there for him.
He spent a lot of time in the infirmary thinking back on his past, and about his present and his future. He often wondered if there was something in his past, something small and seemingly insignificant, that could help him find his future. He let his mind wander as far back into the past as it would go. For the most part, he avoided all thought of the Dursleys. He was quite certain there was nothing there that would lead him to any great epiphany about his future.
He thought instead, about his school years before Hogwarts. He remembered clearly, as though the memory had been waiting to make itself known, the day his second grade teacher told him that every child has the gift of creativity. It was only a matter of finding that outlet for which they could best express that gift. It was the reason why, in the primary years, so much was done in the form of art as opposed to books. Everyone needs an outlet at some point in their lives, finding it through the use of their own creativity makes the end result so much more meaningful. Some people could draw, others could write the most compelling stories, while still others could paint, or express themselves through photography. The avenues of creativity were endless.
Stifled by the Dursleys and under constant watch at Hogwarts, Harry never gotten the chance to discover much of anything about himself. He wanted to be more than just another face in the crowd, more than just today's headline, more than just another great wizard. He wanted to know himself, he wanted to feel right with his choices, and he wanted, above all else, to be the man his friends already thought he was.
Harry decided that he needed to discover if what his teacher had told him was true. He was no longer a child, he hadn't been for many years, but he wanted to find his inner creative child. He needed to find the gift he'd never had the opportunity to explore.
He talked in private with Dumbledore and told him that he wanted to remain in his hospital bed until after school let out. He needed his injuries to be exaggerated just enough to keep him there while the others stepped onto the Hogwarts Express and stepped out into their futures.
He wanted to disappear…and he wanted to do it without any fanfare. As much as he needed them, and as much as he knew they were the reason he was even alive to take this opportunity, he didn't even want to face his two best friends when he did it. He didn't want to give anyone the chance to talk him out of it.
Up to the time when school ended, many students stopped by the infirmary to check on him, to thank him, and to congratulate him. He was always gracious and humble, but he longed for the day when he could finally be alone. Thankfully the day came, although not without incident. Ron and Hermione had both insisted upon staying with him until he was able to leave the hospital. He'd finally had to put his foot down and tell them that he simply did not want them to stay. He appreciated their concern, but he needed them to go. All he wanted was to be alone, to think, to contemplate, to recover.
He watched with an aching heart as Hermione turned to look at him one last time before she lowered her head and passed through the infirmary doors. He thought he caught a glimmer of light on her cheek, reflected in a way that only a tear can. He sighed heavily and dropped his head to the pillow. The pain he felt in that moment nearly overpowered his intense desire to runaway.
The following day he set about gathering his things and preparing to leave. He sat at his desk and wrote letters to both Ron and Hermione, explaining what it was he had to do.
Dear Ron,
I bolted! I'm sure you knew it would happen, I could see it in your eyes as you left yesterday. I have to get away from here. I promise I'll write when I get to where I'm going…and no, I don't know where that is yet.
Thank you for all you've done. For always being there. You are a true friend and for that I will be forever grateful. It is the reason I'm still here and the reason I will return.
I'm sorry for leaving this way. But know this, I will come back.
Your friend and brother,
Harry
Harry didn't want the letter long and sappy. In fact, it was sappier than he preferred even as it was, but he wanted to get it sent so he sealed it and set out to write a letter for Hermione.
Dear Hermione,
I think this is, by far, the hardest letter I've ever had to write. You know me so well that I'm sure this won't come as a surprise to you, but I've left. I have to get away from this. I have to find myself before there's nothing left to find. I have a feeling that if I stay here, I'll lose myself forever.
I was thinking about my second grade teacher the other day. She told me once that all children have the gift of creativity…that we just have to find that gift within ourselves. I need to know if that's true. I'm going to look for mine. I believe it lies dormant in me somewhere…I just hope I'm not too late to find it.
I'm so sorry for leaving you like this. I know I should've said something to you before you left. As it was, my heart was breaking as I watched you walk away. The look in your eyes nearly broke my resolve. I knew I couldn't take the disappointment in your eyes, too. It's the look I see right now as I picture you reading this. Please forgive me.
I promise you, Hermione, I `will' come back. I already know I can't stay away from you forever. You mean entirely too much to me. I do hope you believe me and that you remember it as time goes by.
I don't know how long I'll be gone or even where I'm going. Just know that I'll be thinking about you. You are never far from my thoughts.
I will write to you as soon as I get to wherever it is I'm going.
Yours forever,
Harry
Harry quickly sealed the parchment before he could change his mind. He took the letters to the owlery and called up to Hedwig to deliver them. "I trust you'll find me, girl," he said gently as he ran his hand over the back of his beloved owl. Hedwig hooted and nipped at his fingers affectionately before she flew out the window to deliver his letters. Harry watched with a bittersweet smile.
This was it.
The time had come to go.
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