Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count - 734

Hogwarts Assignment 4 - Charms 1. Banishing someone with depulso.

Warning for: Accidental Murder/psychotic break/depression/anxiety/self hate.

Peace and Quiet (Is All I Ask For)

Everybody wanted something.

If Harry thought his job was done when he caught the elder wand and watched Voldemort fall, he was sorely mistaken, and it was a mistake he realised quickly once the celebrations had calmed.

Ceremonies, funerals, interviews, ordinary people on the street… everybody seemed to think that they were owed a piece of him, and they took without asking.

Demand after demand arrived by owl, littering Grimmauld Place until a surface couldn't be found without an unopened letter sitting on it.

From the most trivial requests to impossible feats, Harry had heard them all and he floundered amidst it all, never knowing where to turn next.

They expected him to be poised and ready for action at all times, as though he wasn't merely a teenager with a destiny too big for any single person.

He visited orphanages, holding babies awkwardly because he didn't know how. He visited animal sanctuaries and smiled at the snarling dogs, all the while pretending that he wasn't having flashbacks to Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper.

He spent hours helping to rebuild Hogwarts, and hours more in the Ministry, pulled and prodded through the different departments, each one of them wanting a piece of Harry Potter, The Man Who Won.

Harry wondered what happened to just Harry, while Harry Potter was torn in a thousand different directions by a thousand different people.

…

"Harry? Are you okay?"

"Hmm. Sorry, Hermione, I'm fine."

"You're not," she replied, and he could see the worry in her eyes. He hated that, hated that even now, when it was all supposed to be over, she still had to worry about him.

"I just…" He shook his head. "I don't know who I am anymore. Am I Harry Potter, Auror-to-be, am I Harry Potter, seeker-to-be, am I Harry Potter, peoples-hero? Who am I? How do I—"

She pulled his hands away from his hair, and it was only then he realised he was tugging on it. He hadn't even felt it.

But then, he'd been numb for weeks. "Who am I?"

…

"Maybe you should get out of the house, mate," Ron suggested, looking at the many, many, piles of letters scattered around the living room.

Harry shook his head frantically, even as he reached out for another letter to open.

"Why are you bothering to open them? Most of them will be from the crazies."

"They expect answers, Ron. All of them. If I don't answer them, more letters follow, demanding more answers and I can't—"

"Whoa," Ron interrupted, holding his hands up. "Okay, okay. Do you want me to help answer them?"

Harry didn't reply, head already buried in another letter.

…

He stumbled into his bedroom, and for a moment, saw a decomposing corpse on his bed. When it looked at him, and demanded he answer more questions, Harry realised that maybe he had problems.

Abstractly, he thought he knew that already, but this is more.

He backed out of the room and returned downstairs, locking himself in the kitchen. It's empty at least, and it's quiet.

Sitting with his back to the wall, Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes.

That night, he found himself wishing he was amongst the dead, because the dead weren't really the ones haunting him.

It was the living that were the problem.

…

Harry...Harry...Harry…

Potter, what are you—

Harry… Harry…

Potter, where are you—

Harry…

Potter, why didn't you—

He couldn't escape the voices for long. Even there, in his blessedly silent kitchen, he could hear them.

Harry… Harry…

He just wanted them to go away. He just wanted some peace, some quiet, some time.

Harry… Harry…

"Depulso," he shouted. "Depulso, depulso, depulso!"

…

Harry opened his eyes and looked around the kitchen. He frowned when he realised his wand was held loosely in his hands. He didn't remember picking it up.

It was then he saw the flash of red. For a long moment, he wondered if his mind was still playing tricks on him. Because Ginny couldn't be there.

Not lying against the wall, a single trickle of blood drying on her face.

Harry looked at his wand, and a he vaguely remembered his name being said, over and over, getting progressively louder.

He vaguely remembered screaming the banishing spell, trying to force the voices away from him.

"Oh god," he whispered. "What have I done?"

Written for:

Showtime - 23. Wishing

Scamander - 22. Harry Potter

Film - 10. Snarling

Wandmaker - Larch (Poised) / Thunderbird (Harry Potter)

Build A Bear - Accessory - Ninja Sword - "I don't know who I am anymore."

Sci-fi - Apocalypse - What is the world like? - A barren wasteland - Dead

Game Night - Trivial

365. 336. Corpse