Fear... In Loving Memory

I live in constant fear of Voldemort. Even when I was seemingly safe, he managed to find me and resurrect himself, carefully manipulating me for his own good. I helped him come back to power. My worst enemy and I helped him. It revolts me even now when I have come to accept that I had little to no control over the situation. I still don’t.

I am not afraid of death. I have faced it so many times that it seems almost commonplace and scares me when I’m not in a life-threatening position as I wait for the other shoe to drop. As Professor Dumbledore would say, “death is but the next great adventure.” To me, it is. Though I wouldn’t mind having a bit of relief from this despicable adventure that is life. This adventure that takes me through death and back but never all the way, though I see others go through it. And it hurts me. Loss and death. It hurts me to the point where I cry and scream out and yell and throw a temper tantrum like a small child. But I don’t because that won’t solve anything. I don’t because instead of me looking up to someone and having them comfort me and soothe me, I have to be that older force that comforts and soothes the rest of the world. The rest of the wizarding world that needs me to be strong because I am the only on that can bring them out of this dark time; the only one that can stop the death and massacre.

I have already established my fear of Voldemort. But I don’t think it’s an actual fear of him, himself. It’s more a fear of what he can, will, and does do. For some reason, he wants me to be dead. He will go about this any way that he can. He takes cheap shots at my weak points to get to me when he has to. I know I can take him on with support from my friends. But if he took my friends away, I don’t know what I would do. Without Hermione standing firm beside me with a boatload of information. Without Ron and his goofy best friend grin and a smile ready to spread always. I would be lost. The thing is…I am lost. I can’t handle it. I can’t handle what he’s done.

Ever since that night of the Triwizard Tournament that I relive over and over in my mind, Voldemort has been on a rampage of death. He has been going for selected people, but not the expected ones. First he went for the Malfoy’s, or so we thought. I still have a sneaking suspicion that something is not right in the Malfoy home. Or what’s left of it. I just can’t believe that Voldemort would be so stupid as to kill off my enemy in order to get me to join his side. Something isn’t right there. He knows I wouldn’t join him for anything.

Next came Cho Chang. She was no match for him and was gone within a few days of his hunt for her. Then came a couple of first years from Ravenclaw house. There has been about a death a day after that. He goes for people I don’t know that are mild figures, but supporters of our side. It’s as if he was weeding out the weak of the pack in order to have one amazingly large war going on between the few people that are strong enough to survive.

And then came the worst part…he came for me. He has always been after me, but now he has resorted to tactics that I would consider cowardly if I didn’t know him better because he can’t catch me again. “Too many folks go through life running from something that isn't after them.” But not me. I’ve got a real enemy. And he wants me gone.

I’m the ‘hero’ of the world and so everyone wants to help me. I’ve got more Charms on me than the rest of the world combined, it seems. But they can’t protect from everything. They can only protect me from physical attacks and magic of the sort. But not from being alive. Not from hate or pain…or fear. And it can’t protect my friends. It can’t…and it didn’t.

Hermione was the first to be attacked. They say she was walking along a crowded hallway in Hogwarts on her way to visit Dumbledore. Somebody was even talking to her and then all of a sudden she vanished and we found her unconscious in the Forbidden Forest three weeks later with a bit of help from the Marauder’s Map. She had a warning inscribed onto her back. It was carved in the skin and went deep into the flesh, scarring her. It said, “I’m here, waiting. You can’t prevent the inevitable. Walk forward. Take your place and fulfill the destiny that I have written for you.” It took us quite a while to decipher it as it was squeezed together so tightly. Hermione took several weeks to recover. She had powerful curses on her that took that long to take off even by some of the most powerful wizards on our side.

Ron was next. He was done to make a point. He was found lying dead in a ditch near to his house. He had been missing for quite a while and I had all but lost hope. But then I got the owl from Mrs. Weasley. I ran out to Hogsmeade Station the moment I found out, but the train wasn’t there. In my frustration, I threw out my arms and screamed, “IT’S ME YOU WANT! RON…NO! THIS IS BETWEEN YOU AND I AND NOBODY ELSE! Ron is my friend.” Then I collapsed on the ground. When next I looked up, I was kneeling by the side of a road. I could see the Burrow looking the same as always. It was unnatural in this time and it seemed dark to me, even in the state that used to give me that happy presence of mind. I had Apparated. At fifteen. I didn’t know how I had done it and I didn’t much care, for lying there in front of me was the body I was hoping with all my soul not to see in the state I now saw it.

His hair was stiff with dirt and dried blood and stuck out at odd angles. His limbs were stuck out at strange angles as if he had merely fallen over while going for an evening jog. His shirt was gone so I could read the message carved into his back. “I’m still waiting. For you.” The blood on these cuts was dry and cracking and cold. I had a feeling that his family couldn’t bear to move him from his current spot. I knew how they felt. In spite of his stiff body and dark look, he seemed at more peace than I could ever imagine. He was free. Free from responsibilities, thoughts, concerns, worries, hopes….

Hermione died a week after Ron. She had seemed almost fully recovered when she disappeared from her hospital bed. I found her in mine that night. She had been dead for some time. Her body was stiff and her eyes were wide, though nothing else suggested she had been scared. It reminded me of when she had been Petrified. But this time, she wasn’t coming back. Ever.

I couldn’t bear to go to her funeral. She was buried at Godric’s Hollow. I still have never been there, but I wanted her near that other place of death and destruction. Ron was just left where he was until his family got the nerve to bury him. They avoided that spot at all costs and steered off from talking about it. They just refused to accept it.

Now he’s after Sirius. Poor Sirius. He hasn’t a chance except what power can be found inside me to shield him. Even Sirius cannot be looked to in these times. Even Sirius cannot provide me protection. I must be strong and face that dark force and never back down if I want the few who I still know love me to stay alive. Sirius is one of those select few, but he’s gone into hiding. He knows the terrible strain put on me and he won’t resort to leaning on me as long as he still thinks he has a hope of a chance of surviving on his own. He doesn’t want to hurt me anymore than need be, but that’s not possible. I don’t know where he is and only my faith keeps me believing that he is still alive.

Dumbledore is also no consolation. He’s grown weak as he tries to save everyone around him. But even he cannot stand the strain of the entire world. He needs the support of the only other person who can save everything: me. I won’t shirk my responsibilities; I won’t ignore my courage; I won’t back down. Not when I got the Sorcerer’s Stone or in the Chamber of Secrets or at the Triwizard Tournament . Not now. Not ever.

When I think of all those people who were lost, I try to shrug it off as just a few more casualties; I didn’t know them; I didn’t love them. But what if the roles were reversed? What if I was the one being thought about as unloved? Everyone is loved by someone. And so I have to keep fighting, not for the deaths, but for the ones who loved the slain.

“The broken heart that cannot mend just needs the care of a loving friend.” But there is no one left anymore. No one to love me or care or to protect. My heart is broken and it won’t mend. But there are others. So I have come to one conclusion that seems my only way to go honorably.

Malfoy came once to kill me. He had been sent by the Dark Lord himself. I stood across from him and gazed at him into his light eyes. I had known that he wasn’t really dead. He raised his wand and opened his mouth. But even he wasn’t so cruel as to actually kill me. After all he had said and done, he couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. Not even to me, the Despised One. It takes so much to inflict death. I don’t know if I could tolerate it except for maybe one person. If you could call him that. That one person that I have vowed my life against. He looked at me and I saw his eyes full of hatred, but more of a childhood loathing than true hatred. “I can’t do it,” he murmured. “Forgive me, Harry. I’m not like that. Not really.” Then he pointed his wand at himself and said something, though I couldn’t quite hear what. I wasn’t sure if it was a Stunning Spell or a Memory Charm or something worse. Much worse. I fled. I couldn’t bear to look at him, lying there, possibly stunned, possibly dead. I’ve seen too much death in my time. I didn’t think I could stand one more.

I haven’t so much as smiled in weeks. It try to fake it every so often, but it feels like betrayal. Whenever I think of my two best friends rotting away slowly in the ground, I can’t help but think of myself in a battle alone. I am one person against a wizard who has tried to kill me many times. And now that he can, I am naked to his power. But I will fight to the end. I will not fade. I will not back down. I will stand up as the man I dare not call myself yet and I will face him squarely. I will never waver in my decision of good. I will survive for all I am worth and I will preserve what is right.

Voldemort has taken so much from me. He has taken my friends, my happiness, my parents, and most of all…he took my blood. And now we’re connected. There’s only one way to break that connection. To remove the blood. All of it. And I will. I will avenge my parents, my friends, and myself. I know becoming this hateful person is what he did to become the way that he is, but I don’t care if I do follow in his footsteps. Only by following his path can I get to him. I will have my revenge. Or I will die trying. The age old prophecy will be fulfilled. “Part blood, part flesh, and part soul…they are connected. But one shall fall by the hand of the other.” I know what I am doing seems foolish to some people but I have no cause now to be alive; now that my old reasons for life are gone. I might as well plough through this to get to him.

I’ve contemplated both suicide and murder. On the one hand, I’m alone and this life is hard enough to live with friends. But now that there is no one to miss me…. Murder was my other option. I could make the one who caused this pay. Couldn’t I? He did more than just bring himself alive by transferring his blood. He made himself a bit more mortal, as I am. I finally decided on the most logical choice.

“Those who mourn never live; and the ones they mourn for never go on.” So there is just one thing I can do before I will give up friends forever. My friends forever. But forever is in the eye of the beholder. For them, and now me, forever has just ended. So after now, nothing matters because forever is over. So it is safe for me to use everything I have now; now that forever has ended and I need not worry about coming back.

Even if I die, I have made my best effort to take him down. If I can’t do it now, at the peak of my powers, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. It’s best to do it before he can rob anyone else of their lives. Not by death, but by loss and loneliness.

So I will do the one thing that I can do. I will do the thing that all time has led up to; this final battle against good and evil. If I prevail, every other small misfortune in the world will pale in comparison to what has happened. If I lose, all good will eventually be vanquished unless someone else has the heart to be bold and lead a revolution. I can only hope that is what will happen.

Tonight I will confront him and one of us shall fall while the other remains victorious. I’ve been stalking closer and closer to him and now I’ve finally found him. I won’t wait anymore. Tomorrow morning, I may or not be alive. This is almost certain death for me; but not completely. It could be murder. There is only one way to find out which it will be. This may be the last time I ever think any thoughts of compassion. Goodbye. I hope at least one person has a good life. Otherwise, what the Hell am I fighting for?

I will not go in shining armor nor with banners flying as I ride upon my valiant steed into his camp. I will go as I am. I want him to see me for who and what I really am, not as the hero that the world makes me out to be. I’m still just a boy but with the responsibilities of an immortal. I will appear to him as such and he will know me for this and nothing else.

This final fight to the death draws closer and I can do nothing to prepare myself. How do you prepare for something that has never before happened in all of time? I can’t go to the library as Hermione would suggest. I can’t look to Dumbledore as Ron would advise. There’s no one to look back upon but hopefully someone in the future will be able to look back upon me and not have to endure what I have to experience.

I don’t want to be remembered as Harry James Potter, hero extraordinaire. I want to be known as Harry Potter, that kid with the messy hair and funny glasses who always tried his best, though it was never quite enough. That kid who was part of the trio that was inseparable except by death, and not even then. That kid who went to Hogwarts and had human feelings and human emotions and who was, in reality, no better than anyone else. That kid who, because of some crazy bloodline, happened to be a heck of a lot more powerful than most, but still just as clueless; still just as confused about girls and acne and ‘growing up’ as the next guy. Harry Potter. That’s all.

I am armed with only one curse in my mind. That which I once swore never to use under any circumstance. But now…now things have changed. My body urges for that intense deathly feeling that I know will come when I use it; or receive it. Of course I am not eager to die, but this is something I have to do. “If you must and you can, there is no excuse.” There is no running from my responsibilities, even if I appointed them myself.

I will capture revenge, my friends. Death is near, I can smell it. Whose? But who is to determine the proper time to die? Rest in peace assured. I will go out on my own terms, fighting as the warrior that is in me. I will remember you all. In loving memory. To everyone. Forever has now ended.

And now…to battle.