He Must Live
The earlier white clouds were turning purple, pink, and orange along with the setting sun. Stars were already peaking from underneath their bed of velvet, and the moon was beginning to rise. Harry fiddled with his fingers ontop of the astronomy tower, his head tilted back to idly watch the evening sky change from day to night.
He was soon going to be killed, or be a murderer. He knew this, and yet the thought chorused in his mind every moment of every day. Every breath he took he was grateful for, every sound he made, and every morning he lived to see he was grateful for. The thought sat with him now, uneasily though. He knew what he had to do, and he wasn't going to act like a child. His destiny was written by the gods, the outcome not yet written in stone. He was going to go through with it, and he was going to make sure that he lived.
He had to live.
Evil should not rein the earth, he knew that. Every story he read good prevailed, but was this one different?
Harry closed his eyes, letting his head drop back further. His hands braced themselves behind him, holding his weight so he wouldn't drop to the cool stone tiles on the floor of the tower. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, freshly cut grass and the smell of the lake overwhelming him. His body felt light, but his soul was burdened. His mind, heart, and soul were all burdened, held to the ground underneath a powerful stone called his prophecy until he fulfilled it.
That is what he was, trapped. He felt trapped his whole life. It seemed that ever since he was a young boy he was trapped in the cupboard at his wretched uncle's house.
How he hated that place.
The only sound in the evening air was the breeze ruffling the green leaves of the trees, and the often cheers of students walking on the castle grounds, or occasional birds flying over head.
He doesn't want to change this, he doesn't want to change the prophecy or wish for a normal life. What is normal? How do you define normal if you're a wizard?
"I wouldn't take back becoming a wizard." Harry murmered to himself, and layed back completely on the stone floor. The stones transferred their coolness right underneath his skin, causing him to shudder in response. Harry folded his arms underneath his head, sighing softly.
Why be normal when you can be like this? The fame and fortune don't complete him, and the magic and sorcery don't complete him either. Does the prophecy make him who he is? No. What makes you a person? What makes you content, happy, normal?
When you're content with yourself, and who you are. The bonds you share with those you love, the ones you'll give your life for so they live on. That's what makes you human. What makes you normal is when you have people who keep you focused, and down on the ground.
He wouldn't trade this life for a million others who weren't faced with his dilemna. This is his burden, and his alone. He has dealt with it for two years, and he was still breathing. He wasn't going to make himself a sacrifice, and he wasn't going to let anyone down. He wasn't going to let himself down. He wasn't going to let her down.
He must live.
-->