Godless

Harry Potter does not believe in God.

Perhaps once upon a time he did; once upon a time, when he believed the Dursleys when they told him that he was a worthless freak, that God was punishing him and his parents for being bad. And with the naivety of a child, Harry had believed them, and he had tried so hard to be good so that God would stop punishing him, and tell the Dursleys to treat them better. He had thought – hoped, actually – that if he were good enough, he would be rewarded, and the Dursleys would be pleased. Perhaps they might even love him. For is not that what every child desires? To be loved?

He cannot pinpoint when exactly it was that he stopped believing in God. When it was that he stopped hoping that life would improve if only he tried hard enough. It may have been on his fifth Christmas, when the Dursleys had given to an excited Harry – who had tried his very best to be good – a peanut as a Christmas present. Or it may have been when a six-year-old Harry proudly displayed his drawings from school to Aunt Petunia, only to have them thrown away unceremoniously while Petunia framed and hung Dudley's drawings in the living room for all the guests to see. It may even have been when Harry was beaten up and accused of cheating by his aunt and uncle when he scored higher than Dudley in their first Mathematics test. Either way, Harry eventually realized that the Dursleys will never love him no matter how hard he tried. In fact, the more he did to please them, the higher their expectations of him were, and the more difficult it was to please them enough to avoid being punished. It was when he stopped trying.

It was also when he stopped believing in God.

For if there was really a God, shouldn't the Dursleys be punished? If there were really a God, shouldn't he ensure that Harry had a better life? All men are born equal – that was what he was taught in school. In that case, God has no reason to punish him just for being born, no matter what the Dursleys said. By then he had come to two conclusions: either God was blind, or He did not exist. Harry chose to believe in the latter, for the idea of a blind God is even more terrifying than that of a non-existent one.

Of course, life for Harry did become better, after Hagrid informed him that he was a wizard. At Hogwarts, he had felt at home for the first time. He was free to eat as much as he wanted, he had proper food and clothes, and he could pretty much do whatever he wanted to do. Most importantly, for the first time in his life, he had friends. Even if one takes his annual adventures with Ron and Hermione into account, life, for his first few years in Hogwarts, was good. Harry was happy, so much that he thought he was being compensated for his childhood, and he almost believed in God again.

Almost. Because what makes innocence and faith so precious is the fact that once you lost them, you cannot get them back again.

Oh, he believed in the idea of souls and afterlife, naturally. You cannot wield magic and meet ghosts without believing in the supernatural. But he never again believed in an all encompassing power that would punish the evil and reward the good, a power that would guide people and make everything right in the world eventually. He was painfully aware that life was unjust and unfair, that the worst things happen to people who least deserved it, and that 'happily-ever-after's are rare and fleeting. No matter how happy he was, there would always be a little voice whispering at the back of his mind that it was all too good to be true, a part of his mind that was always on alert, waiting for the world to come crashing down around him.

And crashing down it did. It had started gradually, beginning on the night he saw Cedric killed right before his eyes, progressing over his fifth year at Hogwarts, and finally collapsing on that fateful day when he had gone to the Department of Mysteries. Watching Sirius die when he had been trying so hard to save him and finding out about the Prophecy had once again convinced him fully that there is no such thing as God, and all will never be right in the world. Not for him, at any rate. It was just as well that he never believed in God again in his first few years in Hogwarts, actually. Because if he had, then it would have hurt all the more, wouldn't it?

The next few years did not improve. As the battles between the Light and the Dark turned into a full-blown war, and casualties built up on both sides, the world once again look to Harry for their savior. Had things been different, he might have been resentful at the wizarding world's fickleness, and felt reluctant to risk his life for strangers who had never given a damn about him. But he did not. Life at the Dursleys had taught him that life was unfair, and there was nothing he could do to change it. There are times that he wondered if that was why Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys. He never tried to find out, though, for he was too tired to care.

Just as he is too tired to care much about the outcome of the battle tomorrow. The final battle, as Ron dubbed it. He knows that he should, but he just cannot find it within himself to care whether he win or die. Either way, it would be over. If he wins, Voldemort would be gone, and the few people that he cares about – Hermione, the remaining Weasleys, Luna, Neville and Remus – would be free to live their lives without fear or oppression. Perhaps, just perhaps, they might then get some semblance of a happy ending. If not, well, then he will finally be with his parents again. Death means nothing to him. After all, he had never believed in a God who would create 'happily-ever-after's, so why should he feel any attachment to a life for which he held no hope? And if he loses tomorrow, he does not doubt that the others will join him in death soon enough.

Whatever the outcome of tomorrow's battle, he will accept it, like the way he has accepted the absence of God, the injustices of the world, and lack of happy endings. Because in the end, God is just a word.