Imminent Death
It was at age seven when Harry first learned that love was something he was undeserving of. He was not quite sure why he was worthless in the eyes of the Dursleys but the fact remains that something about him, something innate, was so repulsive that even his own family could not love him. So he lived his life seeking approval, the closest he could get to love. If Petunia wanted Harry to garden, he made sure no weed was left; if the teacher wanted him to get to know his other classmates, he would try. Yet like any other interaction in his life, it usually just left Harry standing alone in the corner.
It seemed logical to the young boy that when Dumbledore came knocking at his doorstep asking for his life for the lives of millions of others, he had to say yes. The smile that came to the–incredibly–old man made it worth it, he thanked Harry and touched Harry in a way that had never been done before. He was proud of Harry, he loved and appreciated the sacrifices that Harry was making.
Harry put on the brave face that was expected– needed of him as he entered a new year at Hogwarts. As quickly as he entered the wizarding world for the first time, even more fast did he find out the expectations he had to meet. He had to be kind but not a pushover, confident yet humble, and extraordinary at magic, the same magic he didn’t know existed only days before. So yes, he put on a brave face because without it, the wizarding world just may fall apart.
As quickly as he made friends, Harry had enemies. While not sure why, his name only brought about the most polarizing feelings in people; they either loved him or they hated him. It did not seem quite fair but Harry would only seem like a baby to complain about such things. He had wonderful friends; Hermione, the smartest girl in the class and someone who for the first time cared deeply about his health and wellbeing; Ron, his loyalty ran deep as much as his love for food, Ron allowed Harry to worry about trivial things such as Quidditch. Of course with his two close friends came one mortal enemy–
Draco Malfoy.
He is everything Harry hates; posh, privileged, and a bully. Malfoy’s sense of superiority is inseparable with his sense of self it seems, from his daily use of “Mudblood” to his endless efforts to pick fights with Harry. This shouldn’t have bothered Harry as much as it did since most Slytherins do the same thing but there’s something about Malfoy, something that makes him want to scream and rip his hair out in frustration with even the mention of his name. Gryfindor quickly learned to avoid uttering the syllables that are the name of Malfoy because without fail, Harry would begin his angry tirade about his rubbish gelled hair, his posh clothes, or even whatever recent assignment Malfoy managed to ace. There was something uniquely Malfoy that riled Harry up in a way that no one else could do.
Yet in his fifth year, Harry Potter had more important things to worry about: potions. It was the very first potions class of this school year that he was recovering from while laying on Hogwarts grass fields. The screams of excited first years could be heard in the distance as Harry laid with his eyes closed. The sun shined lightly on his features and reflected off his glasses that were resting next to his arms that were supporting his head. There was a light breeze that ruffled Harry’s hair, warning everyone of the upcoming snow storms that happen in just a couple months. A smile pulled on Harry’s lips as he heard one particular girl let out a screech at some boy looking to ruffle her feathers. Moments like this reminded Harry of where he belonged and there was nothing anyone could say or do to change this fact.
Well– “Potter, I'm looking for Cedric, would you like to tell me where he is?”
Harry barely opens his eyes, his environment morphing into bright blues and greens. As he slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position, Harry pushes his glasses on his face as platinum white hair comes into focus along with lips formed into a smirk. “What? Scared you might have seen Voldemort again?”
“Bugger off Malfoy.”
Malfoy’s smirk quickly morphed into a cold and cruel smile as he picked his wand out of his pocket. Malfoy tapped his wand against Harry’s forehead, leaning in to whisper “Even the ministry cannot believe your ludicrous stories, so why don’t you stop with this depressing act?” Harry’s scowl at this unwelcome newcomer only grew at this statement but sat in silence looking up to Malfoy with a wand pointing to his scar on his forehead. The wind blew between both of them, shattering the silence that was growing between the two.
“You know as well as I do that I wasn’t lying, Malfoy. You probably already see daddy dearest preparing for the occasion.”
A snarl ripped out of Malfoys pale throat as his gray eyes hardened and his wand moved from his forehead down to under Harry’s chin, tipping Harry’s head up. “You better watch that mouth of yours Potter. With Umbridge here, I’ve become a prefect.” A smile spread across Malfoy’s pale lips as his shoulders relaxed, “This year is just going to get much harder for you.”
“One would like to think you’re a little obsessed with me Malfoy.” With this statement, Harry pulled himself, deciding it was about time he searched again for Hermione and Ron. His shoulder hit that of Malfoy’s as he walked away to the sound of Malfoy’s sputtering remarks. A sigh fell out of Harry as he ignored the lingering presence of Cedric’s death. It was one thing to watch one of your friends die because of you but another for no one to quite believe you about what happened. While he understood that Hermione and Ron were supporting him the best they could, they could never understand what it felt like to watch life drain out of someone right in front of you. Death followed Harry and at this point he had to accept this fact while keeping the small things like nightmares and intrusive thoughts kept in the dark.
Where that part of him belonged.
No one needed to see anything besides Harry that was “just fine” because if they did, they just might realize how many lives were about to be lost in the upcoming years. A war was coming and Harry knew that, he also realized that his time on Earth was limited. There wasn’t a world in which Harry could see him surviving the war before it would be worth it if he saw those around him live past his legacy. Hermione would solve the wizarding world’s greatest questions as Ron marries her to have the cutest children (Ron thought he didn’t notice the glances Ron was sending Hermione on the train ride over), Fred and George would open their joke shop and Hogwarts would never be the same with the pranks they pull, and Ginny would find a man–a more deserving man than him to marry. For the wizarding world to move past this upcoming war, they would need Harry’s death. Harry was born for and trained for the war, nothing more and nothing less.
Did death scare him? It terrified him, every time the thought broached his mind, it came along with the blank eyes of Cedric’s dead body twisted in agony. His experiences with death have never been pleasant but his time of life has yet to give him the pleasantries of being a child, so while death may terrify him, he never had something to live for anyway. He rubbed his hands under his glasses, pushing them up in process, to hopefully prepare himself to face his friends. As much as he loved them, it has begun to feel exhausting to talk about the future like he will the present for it. For now, he entertains Ron’s ideas of becoming an auror and Hermione’s of him taking the OWL’s. But this is what Harry was supposed to do, appease those around him. As Harry walks up the stairs to the common room of Gryffindor, he pulls a smile to his face and does what he has to do.