The-Boy-Who-Lives

Harry sat on the cool ground, watching the stars blink at him from the heavens. It was nice to be away from the chaos of Hogwarts, for awhile.

He mused as the frost began to appear on the thin blades of grass, twinkling at him as they reflected the starlight. Everything seemed to shine at night, at Hogwarts; the lake reflected waves of liquid sapphire, and the castle itself gleamed a silvery-grey as the night continued to drink the sky.

He had been coming out as of late, staying out all night. Sometimes Hermione and Ron came with him, sometimes Neville, sometimes Ginny, sometimes Luna. But right now, Harry was alone as the ebony night swallowed him, shielding him from unfriendly eyes and unwanted comments. Being invisible by the darkness was a blessed thing.

He liked to watch the people who snuck out at night and wandered the grounds. He had seen Hagrid wander by twice, chuckling to himself. Some of the more adventerous third years had ventured out, taking a midnight dip in the Great Lake. Centaurs occasionally made their way out of the forest to get a better look at the sky. A pair of seventh years had stolen away to the rosebushes, probably out for a late night snog. Little waves of humanity, washing on Harry's lonely shore, passed him as they went about their secret business.

Lately, Harry had been wondering. On everything; life, death, Voldemort, love, hate, pain, happiness... it all seemed far removed from himself. He shifted his sitting position, trying to make himself more comfortable. He knew he should be in bed; at the edge of the world, where the sky kissed the earth, a bit of purple was starting to show. The sun was trying to make its way out.

"Bit late for star-gazing, isn't it?" came a soft, liquid voice. A deeper, warmer chuckle accompanied it. Harry looked up into the faces of the two people who would have never thought would be wandering out together; Luna and Hermione.

The girls flanked him. Hermione was in her nightdress, feet clad in thick woolen socks and sandals. Luna was in one of her famously outrageous outfits; a bright pink and black striped shirt, a purple skirt, and knee-high, acid green toe socks. The girls couldn't have looked more different, but there they were, sitting next to him in the frosted grass.

"So what do I owe the pleasure of the company of the two prettiest girls in all of the Kingdom?" asked Harry, eliciting another laugh for Hermione and a dreamy smile from Luna.

"Couldn't sleep," said Hermione, stretching her legs and toes. "I could hear Ron snoring from my dorm."

"I could feel the vibrations from his snoring all the way in the Ravenclaw dorms," said Luna mistily, pulling up long blades of grass and braiding them together. Harry snorted quietly in laughter.

"Anyways," remarked Hermione, "we don't have classes tomorrow, and it's not like I had anything better to do. I found Luna wandering around the halls, and we decided to come pay you a visit."

"What were you doing?" asked Harry curiously; he always wondered what Luna did when she was by herself.

"She was dancing," said Hermione dryly, "to the tune of one of the suits of armour."

Harry smiled and stretched his arms. "Sounds like loads of fun," he said.

"It was," Luna assured him. "You should try it some time."

"I'll think about it," said Harry. He sat in silence for a while, amusing himself with the image of Luna doing the funky chicken in the middle of a deserted hall. His thoughts drifted.

"Do you ever wonder what you're going to do when you leave Hogwarts?" asked Harry suddenly.

"Keep you and Ron out of trouble," replied Hermione promptly, not missing a beat. "I've been doing so well for nigh on six years now; why break the cycle?"

Luna laughed softly, little whisps of giggles that bubbled over one another. It intermingled with Hermione's darker, richer chuckles.

"I don't know if I'll be here when we get out of Hogwarts," said Harry solemnly, picking at his shoelaces. He had finally broken down and told the group that had gone with him to the Department of Mysteries, which Hermione had christened "The Mystery Squad", about the Prophecy. There had been a week where everyone had barely talked to him, afraid of setting him off.

Apparently, though, that time had passed.

"Your optimisim is overwhelming, Harry," said Hermione, cuffing him on the back of his head.

"You'll be around, Harry," said Luna confidently, holding up her wreath of dew-soaked grass blades. She placed it firmly over Hermione's head. Hermione laughed and puffed her chest out like some Greek God, causing Harry and Luna to laugh.

"And how do you know?" asked Harry when their mirth subsided.

"Because I said so," said Luna firmly. Hermione smiled widely.

They sat in silence for a while. The sky grew lighter, tongues of lavender and gold licking the border of the sky.

"I wonder what it would be like to have a normal life," mused Harry suddenly, leaning back on his arms. Luna looked at him questioningly.

"I think," murmured Hermione, "that a quiet life would kill you, Harry. You'd be bored past death and straight into rigor mortis." Luna giggled.

"Probably," he smiled, "but it never hurts to think. I wonder, though, what kind of person I would be if I was just Harry Potter."

"What makes you think you'd be any different?" queried Hermione, raising an eyebrow. Harry turned to face Luna, only to find that she had also quirked an eyebrow at him. How did women do that?

"I mean," he began to explain, "would everyone still be my friend? Would I still be in Gryffindor? Would I still be good at Quidditch? I'd have never been the Triwizard Tournament Champion. I'd have never been Seeker my first year. I wouldn't be a Parselmouth. I'd just be plain, old Harry."

"You wouldn't have been any different," said Hermione, fixing her crown of grass and lying flat on the ground, arms and legs stretched as far as they would go.

"Come again?" asked Harry, confused. "I mean, I am who I am today because of what happened..."

"To a degree," said Hermione, pointing her fingers towards the sky. "But that's not all of it, of course. I mean, I'm smart because I study a lot, but the desire to study was something I was born with, right?"

"Er, I suppose," replied Harry, not quite following.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," said Luna mistily, ignoring Harry's cringe at his 'public' name, "is the Hero of the Wizarding World. He's brave because his mum died for him, he's smart because he has to know a lot of spells, he's heroic because he always has to do the right thing."

"But Harry Potter," she continued, "is brave because he gets scared, but he does what he knows is right. He's smart because... well, partially because his best friend is a genius, but he's smart because he's smart. He's strong because he's strong. Harry Potter has always been like that, and he'll always be like that. Even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, he'd still be the person we care about today."

Harry was silent, watching the moon fade into the increasingly brighter blue sky. "I never thought about it that way."

"We rarely do," said Hermione, rotating her wrists.

"But still," said Harry, "I'd really like to be me, for once. When I go into the world, I mean. I'd like to change the world, make it better, turn the universe on its head, and have it be because I worked really hard and made a difference. Not because I was the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Then stop being the Boy-who-Lived," said Luna, starting on another crown.

"There's not much I can do about it," muttered Harry, frowning.

"There's plenty you can do," said Luna matter of factly. "Stop being the Boy-Who-Lived, and start being the Boy-Who-Lives. You've spent far too much time alone, Harry. Go out into the deepest recesses of the world, grab the darkness by the throat, and drag it back into the light."

"But how?" he asked. Hermione turned her face to him. They stared at one another for a moment, bright green eyes meeting glowing, brown-black ones. "How does one change the world on their own, when the world seem so anxious to bend for them?" he asked.

"You try," said Hermione simply. "And when you fail, you try again. There is no formula for success. You try."

Harry watched as a small figure crossed the grounds. He remembered him vaguely; it was Graham Pritchard, he had been sorted into Slytherin in Harry's fifth year. Even from here, Harry could read defeat from the boy's posture; sadness and self-loathing seem to emanate from his figure as he shuffled across the grounds. Harry's heart went on to the boy; Slytherin or not, Harry could empathise with the boy's pain. He felt a sudden urge to go talk to the boy, to see if he could help him.

"See?" asked Luna, startling Harry. "Even now, when you feel lost yourself, you still want to help someone. Some people do the right thing because it's expected of them. Some people do the right thing because it's natural to them. But you do the right thing because you want to. And that's rare, Harry. Be glad of your gift."

Harry sat up, brushing imaginary dirt from his pant legs. He tussled with himself mentally; the Slytherin boy would probably brush him off, and then go and run and tell his mates in Slytherin. Harry didn't really know what to say. But he still wanted to go comfort the boy, to tell him that he wasn't alone.

"Harry," said Hermione somewhat impatiently, "didn't you just say you wanted to change the world?"

"Yeah," said Harry, staring as the horizon as the sun rose. Luna and Hermione stood up and looked at him.

"What?" he asked, more confused.

"You said you wanted to change the world, as Harry Potter," stated Luna. Harry nodded. Hermione and Luna both turned to look at the silouette of Graham Pritchard, alone in the distance. They looked back into Harry's face, and Luna pointed at the figure. Harry stared at Graham's back.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step," said Luna philosophically, her face breaking into a smile.

"You want to change the world, Harry," said Hermione. She pointed at Graham.

"So what are you waiting for?"