The Fairness of Things

Disclaimer/Claimer: These are not my characters, they belong to JK Rowling. However, the scenario and storyline is 100% mine, and this writing belongs to me.

 

"It's not - " Harry stopped, glaring at a spot on the wall behind them, and the girls glanced to each other. It was only the three of them in the room, and Hermione and Ginny both decided it was Hermione who should go first.
 

Having a very good idea about what her best friend was thinking, the brunette came forward and put a hand on his arm.
 

"Go ahead and say it, Harry. It's not fair. Of course it isn't. It hasn't been fair for years - not even once. That doesn't mean you can't complain about it. You are allowed to do that, you know," she said quietly, trying to keep the worry out of her voice as much as she could.
 

Taking a breath, Harry spoke again, calmer than before, "It's not fair for them to all expect me to save them; like it's so bloody easy! I'm trying, but even that's not good enough! They have to know every detail, approve it piece by piece, and if they don't like it they call me mad and crazed, and they get away with it!"
 

Now Ginny came up and sat in front of them both on the bed, patting the place beside her. Slowly the other two sat down, and the redhead smiled wanly.
 

"Harry, can I tell you what I think?"
 

"Of course, Gin," the boy said, glancing to her.
 

She took a moment, ordering her thoughts, and finally said, "You know that I grew up hearing bedtime stories of the Great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who saved everyone by giving up everything. I had a huge crush on you and figurines and drawing of you, and everything. Most children did."
 

When he shifted uncomfortably, she nodded, "I know its creepy now, but back then, it wasn't. I was only believing in a hero, and what could be wrong with that?"
 

She took a breath, "Now from there, imagine that we had never met. Imagine that I never got to know you, and then all of this started; the war and people dying, homes being attacked and left in shambles in the night."
 

So far she could see they were following her, and she thought Hermione might see what she was saying.
 

"Then last year happened, and the world was told that there was a prophecy. One that told them you would save them, even after losing so much before. The admiration and gratitude is already there, and now you save them without even having to be asked. In their minds, you've been raised to do it, so every misstep is jarring to their image of you.

"I know that it's not fair, Harry, but to them, the prophecy isn't you being trapped in a fate you would do anything to reverse. It's a promise you're making to them; a promise that if they only hold on, it will all be okay in the end. That someone who's already proven himself is going to take the fear away.
 

“It’s not that they think you’re crazy, not really. I think they just want so badly to believe that they’re ignoring anything that doesn’t fit their hopes.”
 

Hermione watched them both, adding, "It doesn't have to stay that way, but you have to be careful. Breaking someone's image of you could be bad, but if you do it right, we might be able to get them on your side, for the most part."
 

Harry had been quiet, but he looked up at both of them and frowned, “Okay, so maybe that’s some of them, but not all of them. People like Umbridge and Fudge and Zacharias Smith don’t want to believe that I’ll save them.”
 

At this Ginny nodded, “No, they don’t. Fudge is scared of you, of your political power, and everything that you’ve done this year, even if he doesn’t know about it, proves that he should be.”
 

“Umbridge doesn’t like you because you don’t conform to her ideas, and anyone who defies her is a ‘troublemaker’ and trying to create havoc, in her eyes. Not to mention you’re a half-blood with a muggle-born best friend,” Hermione said wryly, pursing her lips.
 

Harry would never tell her how much like McGonagall she looked just then, instead asking, “And Smith?”
 

“He’s a stuck up prat with delusions of grandeur, and he's convinced that you hold your fame - the fame he wants - over everyone when of course you don't,” Ginny said firmly, studiously looking away from Hermione’s face so she could stay serious.
 

A knock at the door came just before Neville opened it, poking his head in sheepishly.
 

“Sorry guys, but Angelina said if Harry isn’t down at the pitch in ten minutes he’ll be running laps during the first half of practice.”
 

The girls laughed as their friend made a startled sound and rushed out the door with his Firebolt. At least not all of his time was taken up by things like bad newspaper articles.
 

“Hermione?” Neville said, as he walked behind them down the stairs, all heading for the lower commons. 
 

“Hmm?”
 

“Can I get you to look over my Potions essay? I’ve gotten better now that I’m reading ahead, but I didn’t spend much time on this one last week, so I want to make sure I’ve got everything.”
 

“Sure,” she answered, sitting in front of his open books and taking the papers.