Oh, yes, some of it is a little surprising. A different world, a different war, being chosen for all of that—that part is very surprising. And even then, it's not as surprising as it could be. Seven years of familiarity with being called The Chosen One wore him down on that, along with all the other titles. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who ... well, fill it in, and he's certain he's heard it somewhere.
(Sometimes, it was a little tiring, actually.)
After everything he's gone through, he's not surprised that it isn't over. That, he realizes, is in large part why he takes it all in stride. There was that tiny glimmer of hope that things would be different. The battle had just ended, and though he knew the world he lived in would have to rebuild and change in the wake of what just happened, it wasn't the same as another war, another purpose.
If he were someone else, he realizes he would be angry. Some part of him does feel mild frustration at it all. It isn't that he minds helping, but he's tired. Above all other things, he's tired.
When Harry steps out, he feels some relief at his surroundings. The amount of people about is disorienting, but his mind had gone to dark places when he first read that letter. He hadn't expected good things. But there are people here and though he's uncertain, it does seem to be some kind of festival. Somehow, people are smiling. If they can do that, then there is some hope.
(His fear, he realizes, comes from the same place where he recognizes that he's tired. He's tired of seeing his friends in pain, in losing more people, and understanding that there will be more and more costs. Quite frankly, he's very tired of understanding that.)
But—yes, isn't he meant to go somewhere? Harry tries to look past the crowds with little success. He sets his jaw and tires to find a way, but eventually gives up, easing off and hoping that someone will see that he looks rather desperately ... lost. And without his magic, he imagines that will be the case for some time.
Harry Potter | Harry Potter
Oh, yes, some of it is a little surprising. A different world, a different war, being chosen for all of that—that part is very surprising. And even then, it's not as surprising as it could be. Seven years of familiarity with being called The Chosen One wore him down on that, along with all the other titles. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who ... well, fill it in, and he's certain he's heard it somewhere.
(Sometimes, it was a little tiring, actually.)
After everything he's gone through, he's not surprised that it isn't over. That, he realizes, is in large part why he takes it all in stride. There was that tiny glimmer of hope that things would be different. The battle had just ended, and though he knew the world he lived in would have to rebuild and change in the wake of what just happened, it wasn't the same as another war, another purpose.
If he were someone else, he realizes he would be angry. Some part of him does feel mild frustration at it all. It isn't that he minds helping, but he's tired. Above all other things, he's tired.
When Harry steps out, he feels some relief at his surroundings. The amount of people about is disorienting, but his mind had gone to dark places when he first read that letter. He hadn't expected good things. But there are people here and though he's uncertain, it does seem to be some kind of festival. Somehow, people are smiling. If they can do that, then there is some hope.
(His fear, he realizes, comes from the same place where he recognizes that he's tired. He's tired of seeing his friends in pain, in losing more people, and understanding that there will be more and more costs. Quite frankly, he's very tired of understanding that.)
But—yes, isn't he meant to go somewhere? Harry tries to look past the crowds with little success. He sets his jaw and tires to find a way, but eventually gives up, easing off and hoping that someone will see that he looks rather desperately ... lost. And without his magic, he imagines that will be the case for some time.