AN: World isn't mine. Neither is the character. Philosophical ramblings however, are.
Everyone knows that there is a terrible and indescribable power within the emotion of rage. No human has lived without feeling its touch and few ignore the power it can give. But those precious, precious few are in truth the wise ones, for rage gives nothing without a price. But truly, does any emotion, however apparently benign, give anything without exacting a price upon you. The answer to that question, as humanity should have learnt long ago, is no.
It's weird really, how it doesn't feel to feel. But when you lose everything, when your entire world shatters into dust and is swept aside by the chiming footsteps of a new order you find something. Something beyond rage, more powerful than fear and infinitely more dangerous than simple hope. Hope relies on your humanity, on the anchors that you hold close to your soul that stop you from falling into the darkness that hides within the heart of every man and woman in existence. Rage is powerful, yes, but it runs out eventually. You tire, both in mind and body and eventually it fades. And fear, fear only exists for as long as you have something to lose.
How do I know this? I know because I have tapped the power of all those emotions and many more besides. Each and every one, from love to terror all the way through the spectrum to that strongest of furies. And none of them, none of them were powerful enough for me to complete my quest. Eventually I became what I am now, an empty shell of a person devoid of the simplest of emotions. In a way it's a blessing, in another it's a curse. I can never feel fear, the madness of rage blunts itself against my mind and even pain itself can no longer touch me. And yet...I will never feel the warmth of love, the bitter-sweet melody of compassion or even the mind-shattering power of pleasure ever again. To me though, that loss is worth the gain.
So here I stand, here on the precipice of fate with only two paths now before me. In one I win. In the other I die. There are no friends to give themselves to protect me, no forgotten protections that have not long since been used. All that is left is my purpose. That and the cold, flickering flame of vengeance. Long ago, an old man told me of the dangers of seeking vengeance at the exclusion of anything else. Only now do I truly understand why. You lose yourself in vengeance, becoming willing to risk anything, or anyone, to fulfil it. And slowly, oh so slowly, you destroy the anchors of your own humanity. Oh, you don't become evil in doing so, at least not what any sane person would call evil. A psychologist - were one still alive after the Purges - would call you an obsessive, or possibly a fanatic. I think.
Psychoanalysis - Christ, if only Hermione could have heard me say that - aside however, I do have a reason for making this recording and I'm somewhat on the clock here. I'm still not completely sure why I'm making this, but then again I don't think I truly understand most of what I've done in the past few years. Maybe it's the tiny part of me still self-centred enough to think I warrant remembering, even after all I've done to destroy the world I loved. Or perhaps it's my lost faith in humanity telling me that if I don't do this, what I stop today will just happen all over again. Or maybe, just maybe, it's that tiny fragment of my being that still feels knowing that if I don't let you understand what I had to become to finish this, there'll be a thousand different stories about who I was and why I did what I did.
I've done a few things to these tapes so that they can never be destroyed or hidden from those who need to know my truth. A word of warning to any future Tom's out there, nothing you can do will ever be able to counter what I've done. Trust me, I've tried.
So to set the records straight.
My name is Harry Potter. I was born on the 31st of October 1980 to James and Lily Potter. I was one year old to the day - almost to the second in fact - when my parents were murdered by a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle, a man most of you will have known as Lord Voldemort who then tried to kill me. I say tried. In the first and only known instance of the Killing Curse not affecting its target after it hit, I survived. Tom's body was obliterated in the blast that followed, but his spirit was still bound to this plane by seven 'containers' known as Horcruxes. He knew of only six of those and that is the reason that at the time of this recording he refuses to leave his palace for fear of the death he has avoided for so long.
But anyway, back to my explanation. Or perhaps I should call it my eulogy, regardless of me being the one giving it. Although that would-no. I haven't finished and I don't have much time left.
I grew up in a horrible, abusive household that stretched my compassion to its outermost limits. But even when I was forced to spend days on end in a cramped, stinking cupboard as my magic slowly fused my bones back together, I still managed to hold on. Eleven long years in that house, used as a personal servant, punch bag and maid by the family that should have protected and loved me. And yet I still didn't loose any of my compassion or ability to love, it would take a far greater pain to do that to me and that pain was far into my future. But the long years eventually passed and I was finally told of my heritage.
The first time I saw Hogwarts - yes, that is the reason that word is forbidden - School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was from a tiny, rocking row boat. I was soaked, water dripping down my face from the wave that had just battered the tiny craft, and yet she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A great castle, her windows ablaze with the light of ten thousand burning candles. It is one of those sights that you can never truly forget and I have not forgotten. Hogwarts became a refuge for me, the place where I found my first true friends and she provided for me as no other has. But even there, within those ancient halls, I was not safe. Tom Riddle, that spirit I told you earlier was still alive and burning with the need for revenge. Two times over as many years I defeated him in person, inadvertently destroying one of pieces that bound his tattered soul to this plane the second time. The third year I found a huge part of myself in my godfather and an old friend of both my mother and father. But at its end, though how my first friend and I fought to stop it, I lost them again. At the end of my fourth year at Hogwarts, Tom used an ancient ritual to restore his corporeal form. I faced him then and survived and I did so once again the next year. However at the end of the next year the side ranged against Tom lost one of its greatest supporters when the Headmaster of Hogwarts was struck down within the halls he had given his life to preserving by one of his own professors.
I could continue, I could go on and explain the endless torture of endless years leading up to now as my friends gave everything to keep me alive. I could tell you how my wife died defending our children. I could tell you how I twisted the protections my friends gave me through their sacrifices to suit my own needs and to survive another day. I could even tell you of how I betrayed everything I was and everything that I held dear to become what I am now. But that would take far too long and I see no reason to burden you with that sorrowful tale. And now...now I'm finally out of time.
Take these words as my epitaph. Maybe if you find my body they can go on my tombstone.
Humanity is emotion, it is what makes us unique, what makes us human and what makes us so very powerful. Do not hold me up as an example that all of humanity should aspire to for I am no longer human. I have given up my emotion, and hence my humanity, to destroy a monster I should have destroyed long ago.
Remember me when you feel rage, when you are filled with the need for vengeance against those who have wronged you. Remember what I became in the pursuit of that vengeance. And most of all, remember that no emotion gives freely. We are imperfect, but as long as we remember that we are so, we can never truly fall.
This is Harry James Potter, signing off. Let light fall upon you until the stars themselves fade unto dust. Maybe by then you'll have found it in your heart to forgive me, love.
- Final recorded words of Harry James Potter, recovered from the ruins of Godric's Hollow after the complete destruction of the Soulblooded Council at his hands.
******
It lay in the middle of small grove, a single gravestone of white marble in a circle of emerald grass, the stone kept polished to a dazzling shine by countless volunteers. The edges of the grove were ripped and torn, as if something had caused the ground itself to dance to its command. And yet there was an odd feeling of serenity to the place and the inscription on the stone was as simple as the one who lay beneath it could have asked. It read:
Harry James Potter
Born
31st October 1980
Died
1st November 2132
Beloved Father and Husband
Fly swiftly and don't look back. We will remember.
AN: I have truly no idea where this came from, it just slipped into my head at 1 am and I couldn't not write it. I'm not sure if this is a one shot or not...but I don't think I'll write more unless people want me to. Even then I might not be able to find what I found here again but I'll try if people want me to. I welcome all comments and critique. Thank you for reading.
Wind to thy wings
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