The Road Less Traveled

The screams of torment ripped through Harry's mind as he turned away from the cheerful street in Godric's Hollow, the shadows of tears leaving sparkling streaks on his face. His hand reached up, gently wiped the last of the droplets off his face, and he stared at it as it sat on the edge of his finger. He stared through its translucent expanse. The world through the tear was bent, turned, and twisted. In Harry's mind, it resembled exactly how the world had looked only months before; completely distorted.

Harry was leaving Godric's Hollow after only a short visit. He had done what he had needed to do, and now he was off to fulfill some other important business that needed attending to as Bright Shiner of the Order of the Phoenix. It had been his first, and most likely only, visit to the place of his birth and his parent's deaths.

After twenty-three years, he had finally returned home...

As his feet carried him away from that quiet street, his mind raced back in time to when everything was twisted, and his own existence was a pure gamble of wins and losses in a game of chess for the very continued existence of mankind.

Harry's mind raced back even further, to his school days--his only truly innocent days. After the Second Voldemort War began, his innocence had been shattered. Harry had done things that no moral person could stomach, and he was supposed to be the good guy. The knight who saved the world.

He huffed at this, remembering headlines from the Daily Prophet: The Bright Shiner Defeats the Lord of Darkness...The Boy Who Lived Becomes He Who Was Prophesied...The Dark Days Have Ended, the World of Light Begins.

Harry had been portrayed as the pure, blameless, White Knight who killed the dragons of despair and death in one fell stroke. Harry was a hero to everyone, Muggles and Wizards alike. He had been the cause to the end of the First, Second, and Third Voldemort Wars. He had saved so many Muggle lives through his sacrifices that the Pope had named him a living saint, and gave him a lifetime's worth of forgiveness for his use of magic.

Harry laughed as he thought, Well, at least I'm going to heaven...but why do I feel like hell?

Harry--the good guy--felt like the scum of the earth. His research into arcane magic had released death and destruction onto Voldemort's armies, but had killed countless innocents. Those lives, however, had never made it to the front cover of the Daily Prophet. They were shrugged aside to keep morale high and boost the support for Harry.

Harry's racing mind led him down every dark road, every mistakenly taken lane, and straight to the worst road of all: the Battle of Hogwarts, during the Third Voldemort War. Harry had been the cause of the deaths of over fifty students, but he had been cheered in the streets of New Atlantis and Aenir. The conquering hero had killed the leading council of Death Eaters, and seriously wounded the returned Lord Voldemort. The deaths of those who were evil "made up" for the deaths of those whose lives were just really beginning.

Stopping on the pavement, Harry took out his wand. Staring at its shining expanse, he went through the mental list of spells it had cast. Spells of healing and light, but also of death and darkness. Spells of fire and water, earth and wind. Spells as old as life, and those newly created. Spells controlled by the fury of Alexial, and the light of the Valor.

Looking at the tool that had caused so much evil that had been glorified as good; Harry's grip on the wand grew tighter, his knuckles turning white. He was the Bright Shiner, the Savior of mankind...but he was only the bringer of death.

He had come to Godric's Hollow to ask forgiveness. He wanted to be forgiven by his mother's God; the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Christians worldwide. He wanted to ask forgiveness from the whole Wizarding community, who had never looked beyond the façadeof their chosen hero, and knew not the dark spirit that resided within. He wanted forgiveness from his friends, from Ron and Hermione, who had suffered greatly as the other branches of the Prophesied Trinity. Most of all, however, he wanted to ask forgiveness from his parents' spirits. He knew they looked at him through the veil of death with pain in their eyes. Their son was a killer.

Looking down at the wand that had brought about the destruction of countless lives, both evil and innocent, a few tears streamed down his face, followed by a cascade. Peering into his soul, Harry realized that he had become Judge, Jury, and Executioner for those who had died at his hands...and the majority had been pure souls.

Harry put his other hand on the wand and broke it in two. The resounding crack filled the quiet street of Godric's Hollow with the light whisper of the lives that had died...and were finally set free.

Harry threw the remains of his wand into the gutter, and walked away from his birthplace, hoping that somehow, on his lonely road less traveled forgiveness would find him before the end...forgiveness from within.

Special Thanks To: Phoebe, my super-impromptu Beta!!