Is it really over…

Disclaimer: I don’t own a thing. I’m just borrowing some character. However I forgot to tell JK Kowling or Joss about it… opps.

Summary: Life after the war isn’t as pretty. Some have lost their live, some in pains and some who can’t get over the past. For the first time Harry writes about how he feels.

Warning: There a few character death and it a bit dark.

I also like to thank Poledra, for beta-ing this story.


Dear Diary,

I've been told that writing down my feelings would make me feel better, but how can it make me feel any better when I feel nothing at all? I lost hope and faith that day, I lost everything and everyone that I cared for, but that doesn't matter to anyone.

Before I can even remember, the Wizarding World regarded me as their hero, a boy who did nothing but stay alive. I didn’t even know about the world until Hagrid told me. I can still remember that night. I had drawn a birthday cake on the dirt because I knew that would be the only cake I‘d get.

I’d always spent my birthdays alone because no one cared for me. Everyday the Dursleys would tell me I was nothing but filth, a good for nothing, stupid, little boy. I was waiting for the clock to strike midnight and to make the same wish every year, all I’d ever wanted was for someone to love me, to care for me.

When the clock struck twelve, I made a wish as I blew out the candle. Hagrid broke down the door giving me my first present.

The first time I saw Hogwarts I was amazed. It was the first place I ever called home. It was also the place where I met the man who would change my life. Year after year, someone would try to kill me but he would protect me from the shadows. I didn’t even realise it until he was gone, until it was too late.

I was fifteen years old when I was told about the prophecy. I had just lost my godfather because of my actions. It was then I learn that the weight of the world on my shoulders. If I couldn’t kill Voldemort, no one could. I must say I didn’t feel great about it.

Well, the war has ended. I did what they wanted, I fulfilled the bloody prophecy but it’s not enough. It never is.

They, as in the Order, have provided me with a counsellor to “help me” in the aftermath of the war. Help, that’s a funny word, all this time I’ve been helping people but when they help me it’s too late. I can’t be helped. I don’t know whether it’s for them or me, but then again I’m not sure if I know anything anymore.

None of the counsellors have ever lasted for more than a week. None of them seem to be able to handle the stories they hear, but it was alright to make me live them. I hadn’t even started about the war yet.

Funny really. How do you find a counsellor who knows how to deal with an eighteen year old boy who’s had to fight for his life year after year since he was eleven and has had nearly everyone close to him killed or murdered in front of him. I must confess though, at first I deliberately tried to get rid of them but I soon learn that if I told them the truth, they would go away much quicker.

My current counsellor seems to know what she’s doing. It has been two weeks so far. Her name’s Dawn Summers. Apparently she works for the Watchers Council and was sent to help me by a Seer. Hermione got all excited when she first heard about it. I guess it’s good to know that some things always remain the same.

Our first meeting wasn’t anything like I expected. She seemed so young and full of life, so normal, until she told about her life. And because of her unusual upbringing, I can say anything and she won’t be shocked or frightened, I guess I found my perfect match. She listens. I was so surprised. No one else ever listened to me for long. Hermione would tell me what to do, Ron was busy with planning the war battle, and now he’s helping to fix all the damage caused by war. It’s nice to know someone cares enough to listen, whether she is listening because this is her job or as a friend.

At the end of the very first meeting, she provided me with a blank notebook and told me to write down anything, from what happened to what I want. The only thing she said about it was that it helped her when she needed it and hasn’t ever mentioned it again. There’s a charm placed on it so I’m the only one who is able to read it, which is good to know. Even
Albus won’t be able to read it, I was told that the White Witch charmed it.

The White Witch is a legend in this world; I did learn something in History after all. It’s told that the power of the white witch only enters someone of the purest heart. The power was woken a few years back and somehow completely disappeared. Lucky me then.

This is my first entry, I’ve never written anything in it before, I never knew what to say. I asked Dawn about it once and she told me that it doesn’t matter what I write. It not meant for anyone to read but me. I guess I’m slowly starting to believe her.

……

Not many people know what really happened during the final battle against Voldemort. But there have been enough lies and crap to make up for it, so many that you wouldn’t even believe. The funniest story is that the love and belief of the wizard world gave me the power to defeat Voldemort and end the war. It’s more like; hey I don’t want to do it, let’s place the
responsibility on a boy who can’t say no. But putting it the other way makes them feel better.

What happened was that I lost all control of my emotions. I never did learn to master them. People have been telling me for years that I should learn to control them but the funniest thing is it was my emotions that killed Voldemort. I blew him up, into thousands and thousands of pieces, even his soul shattered. I felt all of my magic rise within me and I directed it at him.

This all happened because I watched as a man whom I’d grown to respect and admire was cursed right in front of me. He was cursed to feel all the pain in the world. He did not die straight away but was doomed to die slowly. I can still remember to this very day his screams, his pain and the very life in him slipping away. It was then that I broke; I lost any control that I had.

There was nothing else to do; either I had to watch him die slowly or give him a quick death. I could see the blood slowly pouring out of him. So I raised my wand and whispered two little words.

Now I know how Ginny felt; Draco died because of the same curse. They found out he was a spy; he was sent to us as a message, as an example. We tried everything but nothing would work. He was slowly dying in front of our eyes and we didn’t know what else we could do. As his time came near to the end, Ginny locked everyone out of the room. One hour later, she came back out with tears in her eyes and left.

I hadn’t known why Draco had switched sides until I saw Ginny’s face when we realised there was nothing we could do for Draco. After that incident she disappeared, we looked everywhere but there was no trace of her. She came back one week later, covered in dirt and blood.


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Life is so unfair. I have the blood of an innocent man on my hands and all they want do is celebrate. They want to take my picture, they want to interview me, and they want to know the whole story. But what about the things I want. I did the dirty work and gave up so many things for them. So why can’t I live my life the way I want to. I have gained nothing out of this but pain and misery. I can’t even have a normal life but it seems like it’s never enough for them. They always want more.

Sometimes I question myself; how much more can a person give? I lost so many people in my life; my parents, godfather and friends but the one thing that hurt me the most was the loss of Severus Snape.

He was always a git but he never lied to me nor did he treat me any different because of my scar. He saw Harry, not the boy who lived, and now he’s gone. Once we overcame our differences, I started to see the hero he really was.

Merlin, I hate him now more then ever! I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive him for leaving me or making me kill him. His final words to me were “thank you” as I lifted my wand at him. So why do I feel this empty feeling inside of me. For the seven years that I knew him he was never kind to me, always yelled at me for my mistakes but most important he always protected me and looked after my well-being. He became the father I never had and I never realized it until now. I never acknowledged or thanked him and now it’s too late.

He’s gone, really gone. It felt like a lifetime before Albus found us. As soon as those words left my mouth, I saw green spark come out of my wand and my knees become weak. I just sat there right beside him, too afraid to touch him. I watched the warmth fade away from the lifeless body. Without a word he simply took Severus and disappeared, he didn’t utter a word and his face was blank. I sat there covered in blood, not knowing what to do, or how to feel, and that’s how Ron found me.

I don’t even know where he is buried. Albus refused to tell me, saying that he earned his peace. I hate Albus. I hate them all. I hate Voldemort for killing my parents, I hate everyone, expecting me to be a hero, I hate Albus for not letting me know where he lies and most of all I hate him! I hate Severus Snape for dying.

It was a war that I was trained for, a day where I was destined to confront Voldemort. I always knew that people would die. I always knew that it would be a blood bath. However nothing prepared me for what did happen. In the end I was forced to kill the person that I had looked up to as a father figure, he was killed by my hand. I was the one that killed him, not the bad guy, but me.

Now how do I recover from that...

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