Harry, Save the World Again

The question is never really why. They all know my parents fought Voldemort, they know he hated them. Besides, they were the kind of couple he hated. A pureblood married a Mudblood. A sin. How could James Potter fall in love with Lily Evans? How could a pureblood chase after a Mudblood for years until she agreed to go out with them? How could someone of his stature, a respected Potter, for God's sake, marry a goddamned muggle?

No, it was inconceivable. Not only that. Not only was the newly wed Lily Potter a Mudblood, she was fighting him. She fought Voldemort. How could a Mudblood escape his clutches three times?

Not that time. No, Voldemort decided, Halloween, 1981 I will kill the Potters. And that damn baby Potter so he can't grow up and become a pain in my ass for killing his parents.

The ironic twist? Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the self-titled Dark Lord, is a half blood. He kills those not of pure wizarding blood because it isn't right. Then why is he in charge of it?

Alas, that is what brings me to be the Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort's anger at his own parents (whom he killed, by the way) causes him to every day reek havoc and terror on the world.

No, their question isn't why. Nor is it how; no one, not even Dumbledore can answer that. How I managed to live is a matter for the fates, because I should have died as a one year old, causing pain only in those who knew me. But it would also create a string of events to change. Who knows who would be dead? It stopped being a question of heroism long ago when I was asked to save the world. It was actually never asked, even. Merely told, Harry Save the World Again. Again.

So the question isn't why, nor is it how. But what is the question I get asked most often?

You may have already guessed. Do I remember?

No. I don't. I remember green light, which, thanks to imposter-Moody in my fourth year, I know is the killing curse. No, I don't remember, but will you?

But what I don't understand at all is not that they want to know if I remember; instead, my worries are that no one will know what I've done.

The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber, the Tournament, the Department of Mysteries. Even saving Sirius from a fate worse than death to only meet his true death two years later. Yes, I saved a fugitive, a man whom knew and loved my parents; the man who grew to be my second father. I know I'll be a legend, respected, my children (if I have children) loved and feared and foreign to everyone-but that isn't what I want.

No, it may come as a shock, but I would much rather be known for what I'm about to do. And what is that? Ah, I am about to save the world. Again.

But, at the same time, I'm not really saving the world. I never have, only saved Harry. I save Harry, and in the process save the world. It may seem selfish but at least I'm honest. And it's worked so far.

But what happens if that judgment fails me? Save Harry or save the world? I know that when the time comes I'll know, but for the past five years, all I've had to do is save Harry. I am a mammal. Now that you know this do you trust me so much?

Or do you tell yourself that I'm not worthy to be your hero because I save only me? That I do what you would do?

Sure, everyone tells themselves that they'd be able to sacrifice themselves if it meant humanity went on without them. But would you be able to? I will, because I'm Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Possibly about to be the Boy-Who-Didn't, just to save your life. The life of someone I never knew, never met.

But maybe it isn't for you. Maybe it's for Ron. Or Hermione. Or Ginny, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Maybe it's for the Gryffindors, or Dumbledore or McGonagall. For the Order. Maybe it's for Hagrid. Maybe it's for mum and dad and Sirius and Remus. Maybe it's for the people I know and love. Yes. I sacrifice myself so that they can live, not you. If you die, it is your fault, not mine. If Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, the Gryffindors, the Teachers, my family die (or died in vain), it is because of me. The world can save itself. I can save the ones I love.

So in reality, it is not Save the World, Harry. It's Harry, save Harry- save everyone Harry loves so Harry's world can keep going on, even without Harry. Because Harry will live on forever, in the ones he loves.

Even if the world must go on without me, I will kill Voldemort because I have those I love. I have a home in the Burrow, a brother in Ron, a sister in Hermione. Aunts and Uncles in the teachers, friends in the Gryffindors, and memories of those whom would have loved me whether or not I'd survived that fucking curse.

What have you done for me? What have you made me feel? Have you comforted me? Have you made me laugh, made me cry? Have you helped me in times of need? Hell, no. That is not your job. You stand from the sidelines, cheering me along because you think that's all you can do.

You're innocent. So when you are saved because I defeated Voldemort, when you're rejoicing, just remember. I didn't do it for you. I did it for Ron. For Hermione, the Weasleys, my friends, my comrades, my accomplices, my family.

And if I fail, you can't blame me for your death. Because I'm not here to save you.

Finis

A/N: Ho, hum. Hoped you liked it... rather dark, just sort of popped into my head. Definitely went a different way than how I'd originally planned, but hey, I kinda liked how it turned out. Please review, I live for reviews. See you in my next fic!

P.S. To everyone who kept me writing: Becky, Steffes, Millie, Little Meg, and finally Charlie. Even though Charlie will never read this, will never know I know he's still the guy I knew. Even if I'm not who I was.

<3 Megan