Harry Potter was staring at his hands, something that he often found himself doing when nothing was going on around him or if, as was the case this time, no one was watching. It would be hard to classify the savior of the wizard world as shy, but in exactly that same way it would be hard to classify him as anything other. If one were to be completely truthful in any description of Harry Potter it would have to be remarked that he was indeed both, depending entirely on the occasion and the company. Actually if one were to be completely truthful in any description of Harry Potter it would have to begin as it almost always does when the rare few who have not seen his picture are told what he looks like; He's average height, average build, that is to say he is six foot one and no more, he is broad but not truly muscular. He has black hair, which despite everyone's best efforts seems totally unshakable in it's desire to appear as if someone had shaken him. He has emerald green eyes, which he has been told endlessly are exactly like his mother's. He possess a pair of spectacles, which he only takes off when he sleeps, or more accurately when he remembers to take them off to sleep. And all of this is wonderfully accurate a description of the man, but misses the most unique and oft mentioned thing about him and that is his forehead. On his forehead there is a scar, which is shaped curiously like a bolt of lightening. No one knows why it is has that particular shape, and mostly no one cares, because the reason it is there is far more important than it's shape. And that reason has been the basis of just about his entire life. That is, until now.
Last year Harry succeeded in besting, and ultimately killing the most powerful dark wizard ever known. He did this through steadfast determination, hope, courage, quick thinking, a lot of luck and much more help than the wizard news would lead one to believe. He firmly believes that attention he is receiving for having done this grave deed is unwanted, undeserved, and realistically far too short sighted. It was through the efforts of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix that Voldemort's weakness were discovered, it was through the efforts of his best friends that he survived long enough to do anything about those very same weaknesses, and it was through the efforts of the students and staff of Hogwarts that he was able to act on these weaknesses at all. However, the headline of every wizarding newspaper did not read, "Heroes save world from You-Know-Who!", they instead read, "Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Won!"
Which is why Harry Potter, The-Boy-With-Help, finds himself at a great celebratory banquet in the Great Hall of Hogwarts thrown totally in his honor and is, in fact, staring at his hands. To one side of him sits Ron, his tall, lanky red headed best friend, who seems entirely content to bask in the food presented and step from the spotlight. To his other side is Hermione. To understand Hermione, in a descriptive sense one has to understand that there are two approaches to this. There is the straight forward: Hermione has bushy brown hair, fair skin, is average height for a woman, and has pale brown eyes. Then there is the way that Harry sees her, which is: Hermione Granger is beautiful. Which basically sums it up.
Harry continues to stare at his hands. He does this because no one is watching him, they are instead watching a play about him. He doesn't much care for the play, he feels that it glorifies what happened, also he feels that the ending is flat. He feels this way because it is true. The play paints Harry as a wizard without peer, who at no point in the story seems challenged in any way by the events transpiring or indeed by the climatic battle with Voldemort, who seems to be being played out mostly in satire for laughs. The ending of the play unfolds in this way: Harry Potter beats Voldemort through what can only be ascertained is rather snappy dressing, he then gleefully runs off into the happy ending with Ginny Weasely. At no point in the play does it mention any death toll on the Heroes side, with the exception of Dumbledore who dies and is "mourned" some time in the beginning of act three. Dobby makes no appearance whatsoever.
The whole thing disgusts Harry. Almost as much as the cutesy faces that Ron and Hermione keep making at one another when they think Harry is not looking. He doesn't see why they aren't upset about what is transpiring on the stage, about the gross inaccuracies being stated as fact. All of this eventually worked itself into a boiling point and Harry got up quietly and walked outside.
He eventually ended up in what would have been the shade of his favorite tree overlooking the lake, if not for the fact that it was night time and the tree was, of course, not casting any shade. He sat there taking slow measured breathes until he heard the grass behind him making soft crunching noises as someone tread on it. He felt certain that he knew who it was so he didn't bother to look. When Ginny sat down in front of him he was, naturally, not surprised.
"Are you okay, Harry?"
"Is there a stronger word for no?" He cast his eyes to the lake, and away from her.
"Is it the play? Is that what's bothering you?" Ginny tried to put her hand on top of Harry's but he merely moved his own hand away.
"Of course the play bothers me. Merlin! How is it not bothering you?"
"It's kind of fun." She shrugged and smiled lightly.
"It's kind of stupid."
"Why are you so mad lately? It's over now, you get to have a normal life."
"Run that by me again?"
"It's over..." She lowered her head.
"Ginny, you're sweet, and I don't want you to think that I'm being melodramatic here, but there is never going to be a point in my life that will qualify as normal. There is a play going on in there that has an actor playing lead as me." He pointed to himself, he then pointed to the world around him, "That's what they all think right now. That the guy on that stage in there is who I am. That I'm an unbeatable wizard prodigy, which I am so not. Not hardly."
"You are an amazing wizard, Harry!"
"I'm actually a pretty average wizard, Gin. I always have been."
"But you cast a patronis at such a young age!"
"Yeah, I did a lot of things at a young age, but never anything that was really of the same caliber of magic that Dumbledore used, or even Voldemort for that matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Gin, come on, you know me. I didn't beat Voldemort because I had unstoppable magical powers, I beat him the same way I always beat him: Dumb luck, and quick thinking. If the people in there had half of my dumb luck they would all be wizard icons."
"You remember that time I told you that you sell yourself short too often?"
"Not really."
"Well, you do. You're a git. It can't be helped, I suppose but it's still true. Git."
"Lovely, smashing job, Ginny, really couldn't feel better about myself. I guess I am the greatest wizard who ever lived." He said flatly.
"I didn't come out here to call you a git, Harry. You made me call you a git because you're acting like such a git."
"Yeah, maybe. Why did you come out here?"
"Because it's all over now, and you never answered my owl."
"Ah." Harry said nervously.
Ginny's owl, upon which she had of course put a letter addressed to Harry Potter, had arrived at the small London flat that Harry was renting exactly eleven months ago, almost to the day. Because he was fairly certain what the letter entailed it had gone unread for a grand total of five more months. When finally he got up the gumption to thumb through it he had read the first line and then remembered that he had to by more milk and was off to the corner store in almost the same instant. The letter then went unread for an additional four months. One day as he was packing up some of his old school trinkets he came upon the letter on top of a pile of post that he had yet to read. He glanced at it, felt badly for putting it off for so long, then promptly put it off yet again for two more months. He did finally get around to reading it the morning prior to the event he found himself at that night.
The letter, which was a rambling and only semi coherent fourteen pages could basically be summed up in a single sentence. That sentence would be:
Harry,
Now that the war is over and the danger is passed, am I going to be your girlfriend again?
-Ginny
"I read through it." Harry answered.
"And?" Ginny leaned in closely, anxious for the answer.
"Uhm." Harry said intelligently.
"Yes?"
"Gin, that's a tough one." Harry smiled a convincing smile.
Ginny was not convinced, and if one were to be truthful in a description of Harry Potter they would have to include the fact that he too, did not seemed convinced.