Nothing at all

It eats me alive. The sheer nothingness that is my life. Twenty years of existing with a sole purpose, the same burning hate that drove me to wake up every morning, go to bed at night, eat food, train, fight, dream, hope, laugh, cry, Live. It's all gone, and you took it away from me, you selfish, sodding, miserable prick.

What the hell did I ever do to you? I was just a baby when it all started, I don't even remember it, save for a few flashes in my dreams, or when the Dementors come close. But, and might I add, completely without my permission, I was thrust head first up onto this pedestal that I didn't even fucking want, everybody's sodding Hero. I could very well have done without it; I'll have you know. What I wouldn't have given to be in the stands cheering at the Triwizard cup, or sitting with my family hearing news of the developments of the War on the WWN, getting married to a nice girl, settle down with a job, have a family, and never see my face scowl at me on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

But instead, I was to be the one on the front lines, watching the people I loved getting systematically and methodically blown away, or fall before a flash of green light, or turn insane overnight, thanks to one of those failsafe Unforgivables. I had to be the one that hung onto my broom for dear life, trying to get a golden egg out from under a dragon's arse, and I was the one who was rumored to be shagging the entire Yorkshire Women's Quidditch team.

And that was just what people saw of me. My Image. 'Oh the wonderful, wretched, holier- than- thou, heroic, courageous, nearsighted little orphan who takes the dangers of the world onto his shoulders and still has time to defeat a Dark Lord or two, eat some toast and rescue his devoted chums from the perils of his friendship.' I saw it in their eyes, every fucking time. It wasn't just in the way that they searched my forehead when they looked at me, or how they fumbled with their praises which, between you and me, did nothing for my ego, or how women I'd never even seen offered their services to 'comfort' me whenever (and however) I wanted. No, it was that look of pity in their eyes, the one that was almost always covered up with abject admiration for my supposed achievements. It used to make me want to scream at them, how dare they look at me like that? There were people who had suffered fates worse than mine, at least I was still standing, in control of my senses, and they didn't know anything about me at all... and it just got worse as the years went by. At first it was strangers, but then the people that had known me since I was eleven started to get that look in their eyes too.

It became so bad that there were times where I almost wished that I was back with the Dursleys, where they wouldn't have pitied me even if I had appeared at their doorstep, starving to the point of having chewed off my own toes for nourishment.

But, I'm digressing. My point was that that was my role and whether I wanted to or not, I had to fill it. It was my Destiny, my path and my life. I never had a choice; you took that away from me. So, I fell into it. It was hard at first, my first few years at school, I fought it tooth and nail every step of the way. I shied away from the publicity, snarled at reporters, staunchly denied all the rumours (even those that were true) and hid behind Dumbledore's cloak as much as I could.

But then I realized that this is what my life was to be like, and the sooner I stopped being a stubborn arse about it, the sooner I would accept it and move on. So I grew the hell up, and like the man everyone seemed to know I was, took on the responsibility, gave up all the childish pastimes that all the others involved themselves in and got moving. Though I can't say it was a basketful of daises, the daily hours of grueling training, spells, potions, defense, speeches, meetings, preparation, isolation... it took it's toll on me I suppose; and I have to admit that I had my share of moments where I even wished I had died along with my parents, just so I didn't have to be all that I should be.

But, all this was just the means to the end. I got used to the admiration in everyone's eyes, the half- afraid, half- expectant concern that lit up everyone's face when I walked into a room suddenly became a source of warmth for me, rather than a reason for self- loathing. It became part of who I was, the Boy with the weight of ten men upon his shoulders, the Savior- in- training.

It even gave me a cheap thrill or two, now that I think of it, there were times when I'd pretend to brood when someone come near me, or act as if I was at the end of my tether, an inch away from snapping. I wanted to see just how careful everyone would get around me before someone worked up the balls to say something. It almost never happened, everyone was too afraid of upsetting me. Everyone, except for Malfoy that is; it's funny; he was probably the only one who wasn't afraid of telling me where I could get off. He was still as smarmy an arse as ever, but I used to enjoy the arguments I had with him. At least there I could feel almost human, even if it was a false humanity.

And then it was time. The attacks were getting more and more severe, and our forces were no match for the Death Eaters. Muggle raids were at their all time high, and no one was bothering about whether the Magical world was maintaining its secrecy anymore or not. It was time to bring me out, our side's secret weapon.

And so I went into battle, itching with anticipation. My wand hand was burning, and I could barely contain my lips from flinging curses, but any indication of who I was or what I could do would have destroyed the disguise. We fought, you and I, for so long. Days, it seemed like, curses flying back and forth, my youth and vigor against your experience and hatred. Oh it was a glorious battle, wasn't it? Do you remember?

Of course you don't. You can't, can you? Well, it ended finally, all those years of work finally paid off and it Ended. Finally. And the war was over.

We had won. I had won.

I was a hero. Again.

And we celebrated, I was congratulated and felicitated and adulated, and I even had a few pairs of knickers pitched at me from time to time. Not that I particularly enjoyed that, mind you. The sick sod that claims to like a pair of underpants accost his face has many issues that he needs to deal with, an extreme lack of sex being one of the minor ones.

The sex wasn't bad either, come to think of it. Sometimes, along with the knickers, I would have pretty young witches pitch themselves at me, a few even managed to make their way into my bed. I didn't enjoy their company as much as I ought to have, I suppose, but without any training to do, it was something to do to pass the time. I guess they could tell how I felt too, since I never actually saw any of those women a second time. Sex is a lot like potions you know, you have all the ingredients before you, but sometimes it turns out right, and sometimes your cauldron explodes because you got distracted while you were checking to see whether Malfoy was up to any mischief or not.

I guess word got around, because suddenly there weren't any women flinging lingerie at my person, no middle aged hag was trying to make me sign an autograph on her chest, and very few people were turning their heads as I passed them on the street.

Everything's peaceful now. There are no more threats to face, no more battles to fight. Even the statue that they erected in my honor gets more avian visitors than I do human ones. They all have their own lives now, families, children, picket fences. Jobs. Directions in life. A purpose, even if it's just to procreate like rabbits and repopulate the Wizarding world.

Oh, I tried to make myself useful after the war, I assumed that the rebuilding of the Wizarding world would be a formidable task, and they would require all my talents. Apparently, I was wrong. My talents had been honed for the sole purpose of defeating you, and now that the task was done, I was rather useless. Superfluous, even. So I potter about my house, indulging the occasional reporter now and again, entertaining my friends, even the odd woman who is looking to Get a Piece of Harry, as Ron would have said.

But what do I really have? Nothing. A bank account, sure. Maybe even a few medals and whatnot on the walls. Dead parents, memories of a dead mentor, dead godfather, dead friends. And for what? A few months of adulation? Well, it may seem like nothing much to you, but for a long time, it was all that kept me going. And now, even that's gone. How soon these people forget the reason they're alive today. And it's your entire, sodding fault.

On top of it all, after taking everything away from me, you had to go and die. You were all that I had left, couldn't you see that? At least with you around, I had something to bloody Do, and now all I have to look forward to is this perpetual ennui. They say that it's lonely up at the top, and they're not wrong. But what they don't tell you is that it's far lonelier in the place to which all the fallen heroes are banished. There's no solace in this place, you can't even fall back into the release of death, because it would be a coward's death, ridiculous really, dying like this after enduring so much. What would everyone think?

But on the other hand, maybe death wouldn't be so bad. There must be a place where all those people I loved went to after you killed them. They were all so young; their journeys couldn't have ended so abruptly. Maybe I'll join them there, and we'd have all those good times once more. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be there too. And we could start all over again.

"I am a victim of my time
A product of my age
There's no choosing my direction
I was a holy man but now
With all my trials behind me
I am weak in my conviction

I am victim of my time
A product of the age

You alone are my obsession
You were the one I left behind
You've been heavy on my mind
It's been a lonely road I've traveled

And so I walk to try to get away
Knowing that someday I will finally have to face
The fear that will come from knowing that
The one thing I had left was you
And now you're gone"

Santana feat Musiq: Nothing at all.