Disclaimer: I don't own it. Any rights go to the lovely JK Rowling, without whom this wouldn't exist.

No Gryffindor Golden Boy

He's a strange lad. He is clever, and powerful, but anyone can tell he holds back if they look close enough. You know if he wanted to he could get straight O's, from Potions to Defense. And you've seen him in the hidden room in the common room, and he's practicing material far too advanced even for Hermione.

You watch as he jokes around with his friends, and in the first week of school his roommates are his brothers. He's kind and loyal and when anyone has problems, he's there for you; he's the first on the scene.

He's a wonderful bloke. He's shy, but brave, courteous, but he believes in you. He's the nicest guy in Gryffindor Tower, and every year, he takes on groups of First Years, regardless of their house, and helps them. Anyone and everyone can come to him with their problems, and he isn't prejudiced, he just helps.

He has a constant shadow haunting him, and every year, it takes a month to start to fade. He goes home with a melancholy look, and you've seen him during his peak, the middle of the year in a winning Quidditch Game. And his face was innocent joy. He looked lighter than a flying bird. You've seen him at his worst, and his face was a solid mask of cold hard iron. He always is like that on the train, but for everyone's sake, he shoves it into a bottle inside his mind.

He looked chained. He looked pale. He looked as though all the happiness had been sucked from him, and that was why I looked on in abject horror when the Dementor came onto the train, because his mask fell away and his face was pure pain and black grief. He looked like that for a moment, just a moment. But to me, it was a void in time, when I saw him. No masks.

I've seen him at his best and his worst. But I've never seen him cry. His big emerald eyes glimmered when Cedric died. But not one tear was shed. He still held his emotions.

He's no Gryffindor Golden Boy, or the Perfect Hero, or the Boy who lived, or the Chosen One. He's Harry, just Harry.

Because that's all he'll ever need to be.