Harry Potter. Just the name is enough to make people do a double-take and start gaping at my forehead. That stupid scar is the one thing that defines me as the Boy-Who-Lived. If it wasn’t attached to me, I’d easily get rid of it and then no one would give me a second glance. I’d just be another sixteen year old kid, walking down the street.

It doesn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be famous at all; it was my parents who died to save me. It’s because of them that I’m alive today. So in a way, they’re the ones who brought the downfall of Voldemort. I had nothing to do with it; I was just a spectator, a witness. They should be famous, and remembered. But they’re not, not really, not for the defeat of Voldemort.

You probably think I’m sulking. You’re right, I am. I wish with all my heart that they were alive or Sirius was. If I had a choice to bring one of them back, I’d probably choose Sirius, but only because I knew him so well, because I had time to learn how to love him. I’m sure I loved my parents… I still do. But it’s not the same thing as loving them when their alive. The love would be more if I had just known them for a little while.

This year is going to be hell for me. I can feel it. How am I supposed to live without Sirius, the only person I could think of as a father? How can I live with myself, knowing I was the cause of his death? Hermione would be scolding me right now, if she could hear what I’m thinking. She’d say that it was my duty to live, whether I liked it or not. I suppose she’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Just knowing that I’m the only one who can save the wizarding world is horrible. I’m not a powerful person; I couldn’t kill someone like Voldemort if my life depended on it. So how does everyone think I’m going to fulfill the Prophecy? It’s not possible; I’d probably be dead before I lifted my wand. I just can’t do it.

Ron sympathizes with me. I don’t know why but I appreciate it all the same. I think my fame has been hardest on Ron, but he doesn’t show it. He used to but that was before the episode in the Department of Mysteries. Maybe he understands now that being famous in the way I am, is no joyride. He’s been around for me a lot, as has Hermione. They’re both wonderful people and I love them like brother and sister, but I think they’re making things harder on themselves by helping me. I’d rather no one knew me, right now. If I die in the last battle, I don’t want to make them suffer or mourn. I’d want them to get on with their lives, to forget about me. It’d be easier that way.

Sixth Year. This is going to be a busy one. N.E.W.Ts are next year and the teachers are going to be hounding us to study. I wonder if I should even bother. I probably won’t be alive to take them. If Dumbledore’s right (and he usually is) the last battle isn’t far off. Voldemort has gathered Dementors and other foul creatures for his army. He’s prepared. The only thing stopping him from taking over the world this instant is, according to Dumbledore, me. He still thinks I can ruin his plans single-handedly. What a moron. Like I could take on an army of Dementors and God knows what else, and win. Dumbledore says that he’d like to defeat me before he tries anything, since I’ve managed to foil every plan of his up till now. I say he’s an idiot.

I’d say that the Order is ready to fight, but I’d be lying. I don’t think they’ll ever be ready to fight. It’s not because they don’t have recruits or anything, because they do. Giants and Goblins have joined them. It’s just the fact that half of them don’t know the horror they’re about to face. The Weasleys, Tonks, Kingsley, they weren’t in the first Order. Oh, they’ve faced trouble and death but they’ve never seen loads of people dying before their eyes, never felt the helplessness that come with war. I guess I haven’t either, but I’ve got gist of the feeling. I haven’t played-hero five times in a row without learning anything.

Well, now I’m knee deep in a lake of despair. I feel pathetic just listening to myself. I shouldn’t be sitting here moping. I should be living in the present not the past or the future. Sirius, the Prophecy, they’re just things already gone or about to come. I should be outside, enjoying my life with my friends. Who knows how long I’ll be around to have fun with my friends? Maybe if I just forget my destiny for a while, it won’t seem so dark and deplorable. Like Hagrid once said: No good sittin’ and worryin’ abou’ it. What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does. He’s right. When Voldemort finally begins his war, I’ll fight, but until then I’ll enjoy the part of my life I have left. And when the time comes to fulfill my destiny, I’ll face it like a man, catching everything Voldemort can throw at me and tossing it back. I won’t be weak or easy to defeat. I’ll be fighting for my friends, alongside them. I’ll be fighting for those I love and when Voldemort steps up to me in challenge, I’ll have three words to say: Bring it on.