A/R: I haven’t written much lately, so I finally wrote something. It’s not much, but I think it’s pretty good. A bit of a soliloquy – one of my favorite things to write. Just a little irrelevant fact, but I wrote part of this while listening to chapters 1 and 2 of Goblet of Fire on CD.
Disclaimer: Only my words belong to me. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
All For You
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Yup, that’s me. Everyone knows my name, but do they really know me? Probably not. There aren’t many people that do.
Not many people know what it’s like to live with the people like the Dursleys because their parents were killed by a powerful dark wizard. They don’t know what it’s like to grow up there and be made to think that you’re inferior and barely worthy of the life that you live. There aren’t even words to express how terrible that life is.
The day that Hagrid came to tell me that I was to go to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft was the best day of my life. It was my ticket out of that miserable existence, even if only for part of the year. To learn that I was a wizard, the most famous one nonetheless, was a terrific discovery.
Even better than my fame was the friends that I found at Hogwarts. Friendship was a new and wonderful feeling to me, and I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for it. To have friends that stick with you through thick and thin is a great gift that so many people tend to overlook. Ron and Hermione are the best friends that anyone could ask for. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful for them.
With every day that I’m thankful for my friends, I also miss my parents more than anything. I wish I could have known them. Parents play a big role in everyone’s life, but for me, there’s just an empty space.
Sometimes when I’m by myself, the ache inside of me is so intense that I find myself crying. I cry for the life that was deprived of my parents, I cry for the part of my life that was deprived because of their deaths, and I cry for the many other people among my parents who had their lives cut short by Voldemort.
He really was a terrible man, if you can even call him a man. When he was finally defeated, it was such a triumph. All the suffering that he had caused was coming to an end. It would be no more. There would be no one else to lose their loved ones to him, as I had when I was too young to even understand what had happened.
We were finally able to rebuild what was left of our lives. So many had died in the ordeal, the long and trying journey. It wasn’t easy to get as far as we did. So many people had to struggle with themselves, to ask themselves why they were who they were, and why they were doing what they did.
Even I was one of those who questioned themselves. The words that had come from the Sorting Hat when I was merely eleven years old always came back to haunt me. “Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness,” was what it had told me. I knew that many dark wizards had come from Slytherin, so I wondered if that’s what was meant for me.
Every time those dark thoughts invaded my mind, I reminded myself that Voldemort had killed my parents. He had taken away the two most important people in my life. To side with him would be an insult to my parents. I would never want to let them down.
It was because of my parents that I was able to go on. I was able to stand up to the wizard who killed my parents. I fought bravely against him with my parents in mind the whole time. I wanted to make them proud.
And make them proud I did, or so I like to think. I defeated Voldemort. I did it for them. I avenged their death, and the deaths of so many others.
It was all for you, mum and dad.