Questions Unspoken

Disclaimer: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work.

Warnings: Ignores HBP and DH completely, Slight Language

AN: Wow! I wrote this way back in '06 but never posted it before now. First in a potential/possible series. Maybe.

Why am I doing this?

That very thought entered Harry's mind one day, only to never leave. It would always be in his thoughts, demanding attention when he was in Transfiguration, prancing about while he was eating dinner, banging on his brain as he lay down to sleep.

Why am I doing this?

And why was he doing it?

For his family?

He had none. His parents were dead, as was Sirius, and the Dursleys had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't family. He'd never been.

The Weasleys didn't count; they were Ron's family.

Remus didn't count; he was just a mysterious presence that came in and out of Harry's life, never sticking around when Harry really needed him.

The DA members… the Order… Neville… Luna… they didn't count; he barely even knew them.

Dumbledore and McGonagall sure as hell didn't count. One was only using him to save a worthless world, and the other only saw him as a carbon copy of her two favorite students who had somehow come to life.

Even Ron and Hermione didn't count. They were just friends… and not even very good ones. They didn't even know him at all. They didn't know the real him; they'd never even bothered. They just knew the-boy-who-lived.

They had seen glimpses of the real Harry Potter, the lonely boy that he was, but they hadn't really liked him.

Hermione despised the fact that he was just as smart – probably smarter than her – and that he had the wonderful thing that was called common sense.

Ron hated that he was better at Quidditch, better at school, better at magic… Just better in general.

They both detested that he was capable of seeing the big picture, that he was cunning, and that he was able to understand people, figuring them out when even they themselves didn't understand. Skills that neither of them had.

But above all, they loathed the fact that deep down Harry Potter was just as much Slytherin as he was Gryffindor.

So Harry had hidden himself away, only showing them what they wanted to see. He presented the image of an average student, the typical Gryffindor, the burdened hero.

Why am I doing this?

He sat down one night in the Room of Requirement, thinking over the conundrum. After ten hours of contemplation and just as the sun was rising in the sky, Harry Potter came to a conclusion.

He was doing it because that was the only option he had ever been presented. It was the only thing that had been available to him. No one had ever bothered asked him what he wanted. No one had ever cared enough to even consider it. Only one person had ever offered him a different option, and that person had been his enemy.

But was Voldemort really his enemy? Just as his friends weren't really his friends, Riddle may not really be against him… at least not personally.

Tom was against him for the simple fact that Harry stood in his way, even if it was unintentionally. Harry's parents had chosen to stand, dragging him in the whole mess right behind them.

Yet, Harry himself had never chosen. He had just been offered up as a sacrifice to appease the masses.

There had been a secret and hidden idea, lingering in his thoughts for some time now, one which he could never admit aloud unless he had a death wish.

Tom Riddle was correct. Voldemort was right. Not completely right but still better than anyone else, even if Harry didn't agree with his methods.

There was no good or evil. There was only power.

There was no good.

The wizarding world was definitely not good; it was corrupt, unthinking, uncaring. Wizards thought only of themselves.

No evil.

The Death Eaters were cruel and their actions despicable, but they truly thought they were doing the right thing. They really feared the Muggles would rise up and destroy them.

Just power.

And power was one of the few things Harry had in abundance.

Why am I doing this?

Harry now knew the answer. He did it because he had no other choice… at least not yet.

Perhaps the better question now would be:

What am I going to do about it?

Ever Hopeful,

Azar