"Stupid! Stupid!" Harry ran a hand on his hair and pulled it in frustration. He had gave Snape the wrong parchment! It wasn't his essay on Belladonna. It was his letter! How could he be that careless?! What would Snape say now?
Harry heaved a sigh.
But just like in the letter, Harry will do anything to do the right thing. He grabbed the parchment with his essay on it and marched his way to the Potions Master's office.
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Dear Professor Snape,
It has been four days since that stupid fiasco. I am really sorry. Again, I didn't mean that. Thank you for returning the letter to me and not burning it. Sorry for making you feel angrier towards me. I'm sorry.
I know that I have sworn to not write another letter to you again, but... it feels like I need to do it again. My hands are itching to write and my head aches with the lack of sleep. So here I am, again.
But I promise to be very careful with this one. It won't go astray this time. I will charm it with the charm Professor Flitwick taught me.
Sorry again, Professor.
You know, when I came to you that night to ask for my parchment, I half expected (well, more like really expected) you to shout at me and tell me all the horrible things you could accuse me of. But you didn't. You said nothing and accepted my essay and gave back the letter. Although, it would have been more awkward if you haven't taken points. I guess I should expect more from you, then.
But it was still an act of kindness. And that kind of kindness was so easy yet it was meaningful. It was as if what I said about me thinking and feeling that you are understanding isn't really that far off from the truth. So here I am, sitting like a dolt in the Astronomy Tower, looking up at the skies and hoping that Professor Vector won't come in here to dock points.
The stars... I hope you can see them as much as I can now. They're beautiful, like diamonds in the sky. They twinkle so beautifully and so brightly that they almost blind my eyes. But the thing is, they don't burn.
I have remembered back when I was younger, back when everything was so simple. I just need to get through the day and everything will be fine. Tomorrow will be another day. But now... The days seem to pass by so fast that I wish I could turn back time and actually take a hold of it. They seem so fluid and it's scary. They just slip out of my grasp amd they leave me with nothing; just another day to regret.
Have you ever wished for that, too?
The darkness that envelops me as I sit here, ironically, does not even scare me. What scares me more is the fact that after the darkness comes the light, and it's scary. Many people are afraid of the dark. They say darkness brings terror, but this darkness... This solitary time for me makes me feel like the Harry I once was. No pretensions, no expectations- just Me. It's almost like freedom. But this good feeling, like all good things, never last. Nothing good ever lasts for long.
I have learned that the light brings back those stares, those masks and those looks of disgust. When the light comes, I'll be the Hero again. I'll either be Harry the Saviour, or Harry the Liar again.
I hate the light. It shows you everything you'd rather not want to know. It shows you just how unfair the world is. It's scary.
Maybe that's why you wear black. Because black represents darkness and darkness is comfort. Or is it because you mourn? Is it mourning, Professor, that has lead you to wear black all the time? Am I correct in assuming that it is not anger I see when you look me straight in the eye but guilt? If it is guilt, why would you fell that towards me?
Every shit that happens to me, Professor, is only because I choose shit over the less shit. Believe it or not, Professor, most of my decisions are only mine to regret about.
Are you guilty because you can see my father in me and you hate me for it? Oh, don't fret, Sir. I hate myself for looking like my father, genetics be damned. I want so much to shy away from the past. The past does not define anybody, why should I be an exception? I did not kill a man. I don't even want to hurt a fly. Voldemort may be evil, but he was a living thing, and what the bloody hell could a baby, a fifteen month old baby, defeat a man, as monstrous as he may be?
I don't want to be called James Potter and Lily Potter's son. I want to be known because I did something right once. And that right made a change. It feels like people see the Heroes my parents were and then they branded me as a Hero. It's... Sometimes, it's too much.
Sometimes, I feel like nobody will ever get past the Hero Harry Potter.
Why do I always be an exception to almost everything?
Signed,
H. Potter
