Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter or MCU/Marvel, all rights reserved to J.K. Rowling's and The Walt Disney Company.

Warning: Mentions of abuse and thoughts of suicide and cannon Harry Potter death.

Two Faced

One of the first things I learned in my life was that I was a freak, unwanted, and a burden in the home that housed me, tossed into the cupboard till I was once again needed.

Freak!

Unwanted!

A burden!

These things defined me as I became aware of the world and my place in it. Locked in the darkness to be gone from the eyes of my family until they could put me to some use. I never even knew my own name until I started school, well, I thought it was freak, rather than Harry James Potter.

At first I wanted more, like any child, looking for the love of his parents. Crying out to the family around me so that I could be wanted and loved, a part of the only family I knew. But I learned.

Under the whip of the belt and pain of my uncles first.

Under the scathing words, hateful glares, and a few hits from the frying pan of my aunt.

Under the punches and bullying of my cousin Dudley.

I learned that no matter how I cried, no matter how well I did, and no matter how hard I worked, that I was nothing but a freak to them, unwanted, and a burden. It hurt so much, like a gaping bloody hole where my heart should have been, was set ablaze, a sorrow that wanted to choke the life from me, and I cried alone in my small dark cupboard. I cried and cried till I could cry no more and all that was left was a hollowness inside me.

It felt like my inside matched my home, that dark and empty cupboard that I spent so much time in, and the world around me was dyed monotone, all being cold and lifeless. It was because of this hollowness inside of me that people started avoiding me even more, my face as blank as my heart when the pain became too much.

Though one day I came across a song that inspired me in a way, that gave me a lesson so that I could maybe interact with the world around me without showing that ragged emptiness inside of me.

I grab my mirror and practice smiles

Don't forget, it's in the eyes

So that's what I did, I practiced and practiced those false smiles, to show the world another face to hide the pain away, a mask to cover that ragged void inside of me. And the song was right, it was in the eyes, to make those false smiles a worthy mask, to show another face, I had to squint them just so, so that they could lie just as well as my smile.

And that's what I became, two-faced, to hide from all the world.

ΩΩΩ

When I was eleven, I finally understood why I was called a freak by the Dursleys, why they hated me so, and how different I really was from them. This was when I had a small measure of hope, for the first time in a long time, that maybe I could heal the wound where my heart should be.

Though this was also when I found out how my parents really died, how they died for me, and it let me feel pain a new kind of pain. Suffering the pain of loss of people I was never able to know, never able to meet, but loved me enough to die for me, even if I wondered if it would have been better to have died with them.

Yet even still, knowing they loved me enough to die for me, I asked myself if I was worth that. Was I worth their sacrifice? After all, I learned long ago who I was.

Freak

Unwanted

A burden

But they wanted me, right? Though even for them, I cost them their lives, right? They would still be around unless it was because of me. So, even still, I was a burden, made famous from their deaths.

Though another small glimmer of hope was still to be found during this new journey in my life, a friend. I was able to make my first friend, someone who actually wanted to be around me, and my smiles felt just a little less false around him.

As the start of the year dawned on my new journey, I couldn't help but be awash in wonder at awe at the magic surrounding me, stirring a hope that things may change. The potions teacher seemed to hate me, but that was okay, I was used to being hated, and I felt like I deserved that deep inside, those first life lessons scars on my soul.

Time passed by through the year and I learned as much as I could, immersing myself in the magic and wonder that filled Hogwarts. I made sure not to show all I could do, another life lesson taught by the Dursleys, and I didn't want my first friend to abandon me because I did better than him.

A small measure of freedom that I was able to find from the weight of my fears and pain was flying, able to glide above the world and those who claw at my soul. Even facing the danger of death after my new broom from Professor McGonagall was cursed, couldn't deter me. What was death in the face of that small measure of freedom I felt high above the ground?

I was even able to make another friend by the time Halloween came by, a girl by the name of Hermione, life from Shakespeare. I had to face a troll because Ron was mean to her, something I hate that he did, but we were able to save her in the end!

I didn't even care about having to jump on top of the troll, as long as she was safe it was fine, whatever happened to me didn't matter.

But, even after that, I was reviled once again because I lost Gryffindor so many points by helping Hagrid. That was okay, I deserved that, but I hate that I brought that ire on my friends. I never wanted them to be hated like me. And even if the hateful comments from my house caused a new dull ache inside me, salting the wounds of that hole inside if me, I remembered my lessons from so long ago.

I grab my mirror and practice smiles

Don't forget, it's in the eyes

After that happened, I had the delve into the Forbidden Forest as punishment for being out after curfew, and it was then that I ran into a monster. Its very presence was like an open flame searing at my scare, making its way to me, Draco having long since run away. In desperation, I shot the flame spell I learned in herbology, but the creature ignored my attempts at repealing it with paltry ease, and it was only thanks to the centaur Firenze that the creature fled.

I later found out that the monster was yet another professor who seemed to hate me, possessed by the man who killed my parents. After going through the trials that protected the philosopher's stone, with Ron getting hurt during one of the trails, I was face to face with the man who tried to kill me earlier in the year by cursing my broom.

His lies about ruling together were east to ignore, even if he wasn't the one who killed my parents, who would want me after all. And I was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep the stone away from him, to block his path to resurrection. After all, why should he live after he took my parents from me.

Why should he live?

When I saw what my touch did to him when he tried to choke the life from me, I thought over and over again, why should he live? Yet, seeing the man dead on the floor, burnt to ashes by my very touch, a sickening feeling filled me, clawing at my throat, and eating at my mind.

I killed him.

My very touch burned him to death, and even he was shocked at what happened, someone with decades more knowledge than me. I was a freak, I must have been to be able to do something like that, who would want to be burdened by a murder like me, who would want someone like me?

As these though tore through my mind, I saw that wraith made of shadow and hate rise from the man I just killed, and I made no move to dodge the screaming visage of a face. Even as it passed through me, setting my scare aflame, and poisoning my body with a deathly chill, I couldn't help but think I deserved it all.

When I awoke again, unsure if that was a good thing, I fell under the scrutiny of Dumbledore, earning his apparent appreciation at the actions of me and my friends. Once more I wore my false smile, a lie told from my lips to my eyes, ignoring the sickening thoughts within my mind as my now bloody hands.

And when it was all said and done, all my friends well and good, I was sent back once more to my prison of hate and loathing, just in a bigger cell now.

ΩΩΩ

By the time second year came around and Hogwarts was again on the horizon, offering me some measure of freedom and respite, I met a curious fellow named Dobby, a house elf.

It was his eyes that told me of the common soul I found in front of me. The rags and bruising gave voice to that damage deep inside, to the wounds that could not so easily heal as the ones of flesh and blood.

Even after I found out he hid letters from my friends, I could not hate him, even after he enraged Vernon with his actions and once more put me under the belt and fist, I could not hate him. After all, in him, I found a common soul that hid away the pain and loneliness behind a smile, making me think of that song from so long ago

So we pretend

That we're okay

It's just easier

That way

And it truly was to hide all that hurt away, so that the world could never see the things deep inside that could show how broken we really were. Dobby wanted to keep me safe and away from the plots and plans of those that would see me hurt and dead, along with many other students.

But I couldn't stay within my prison, and even if danger was abound within the halls of Hogwarts, it was still better than my jail cell. Of which I was soon broken out of by Fred, George, and Ron, with them pulling the bars from my window and absconding with me to their own home. And even though I knew that I would have a new set of scars painted across my back when I later returned, being able to experience the warmth of a real home was worth it, no matter the price.

Once again though I felt the judgment of my peers when it was discovered that I could talk to snakes, amidst the unrest of attacks against various students not considered pure of blood. I never would have thought such a skill would be reviled as much as it was, as one of the few I could talk to before Hogwarts were the garden snakes as I weeded, who were nice enough to talk back.

The others I talked to were the spiders within my cupboard, but they never talked back to me like the snakes did, no matter how long the hours became in the darkness.

Yet this seemingly benign skill ostracized me from the school, earning me their hateful glares and distrustful glances, with even Ron and Hermione sending worried looks my way, though they never abandoned me. Why the school thought I had some hate against muggleborns and half-bloods considering who my mother was and who one of my friends was, I would never know.

Near the end of the school year, after facing the danger of death by giant spider, the hate of my fellow students, and seeing the corruption of the magical government by the arrest of Hagrid so that the minister could be seen as "doing something" I faced the killer of my parents once more. I had no choice, I could let the sister of my best friend die, and no matter what danger I faced I had to save her. At least I didn't have to delve into the depths along, though considering another teacher tried to attack me, and Ron, it may have been better to do without the adult.

Though at least he faced some karmic justice by having the curse he used on so many others being turned against him by his own incompetence. Even still, due to his actions, I was once more at the precipice of battle alone, the beast at the door and Tom Riddle the puppet master holding the leash of Slytherins monster.

To my shock, this eventual bastion of pureblood dogma and hate was a half-blood himself, making me internally scoff at the self-righteousness espoused by so many pure bloods. Happily becoming the branded cattle of a half-blood so that they can bask in their own imagined superiority through death and destruction.

The fight that followed was harrowing, a mind-numbing fear infusing my entire being as a 60-foot basilisk made its pursuit of me, no matter the fact that it was blinded by Fawkes the phoenix. No matter what cutting spell or bludgeoning curse I sent its way, it continued its now blind dogged pursuit of me, and I felt that gentle hand of death a hair's breadth away the entire time.

Even when I finally felled it with a blade to its brain, death neared ever closer as the basilisk's venom ran through my veins, though I was once again able to put down my parent killer though that same liquid death, via the fang of the serpent. To my relief, after disposing of the sentient memory of Tom Riddle, Ginny was able to awake from whatever magical slumber Tom Riddles drain on her life put her into.

Though after killing the monster, saving the girl, and seeing that all who were petrified, my best friend Hermione included, awake from their petrification with the help of a potion. it seems that the entire student body pretended as if they never tried vilifying me, receiving no help from the teachers once again as the whole school turned against me.

Even though I kept the two friends I was able to make around me, seeing the whole world turn against me, and Hogwarts really was my whole world, that ragged hole where my heart should be seemed to widen further. reinforcing those first lessons in life, that I walked a lonely road in life, useful when needed, but ignored when I'm not. But still, I smiled and ignored that pain, showing a face to all that they wished to see, a useful hero for a time, and tossed aside soon after.

One bright spot in the year was that I was able to free Dobby from Lucious Malfoy, giving him the freedom I never had, and it seeing his joy was a balm to my ragged soul. From then on, me and him often shared a spot of tea together, sometimes sharing light conversation and other times sharing a companionable silence. The only thing I ever asked of him was a promise to never try and save me the way he had again, as I could do without the various injuries his action caused, and he was more than happy to agree.

I was right about one thing though, once more I was sent to my prison, and new scars were painted across my back for daring to go against my warden. Though even still, it was worth it to see and experience the warmth of what a loving home should be.

ΩΩΩ

Honestly, the following years never did much to truly heal me, I was so broken inside, I still am, a deep and lasting pain always there when I wake up. A weight on my soul that caused a constant shadow and a constant sorrow, so painful that tears would forever fall if they hadn't dried so long ago.

Third year had me face that hollowness deep inside of me, it swallowing me up more than once in the presence of the Dementors. The amortal creatures affected me worse than many others, but they at least let me hear the voice of my mother, even if it was her scream before she died.

That year to me from inconsolable rage at the thought of Sirius Black, my godfather, being the one to betray my parent to their eventual death. To a semblance of joy at the thought of being able to prove his innocence after the capture of Pettigrew and finding a home where I wasn't hated. And finally all-consuming despair after he once again had to run after Pettigrew escaped due to Lupin forgetting his potion and attacking us.

As I made my way back to my prison at the end of that year, I held my inconsolable sorrow deep inside, showing the world a false smile yet again. Despairing at the loss of hope that I had for a potential home, grasping at the shadow of a family, small though it may have been. It was another weight upon my soul that dragged me down, something that would always leave its mark.

Fourth year once again saw me ostracized and hated by the school, publicly humiliated by Slytherin, and even receiving the cold shoulder from teachers as they once more failed to stop the bullying. Entered into a life-and-death contest that was meant for much older students I felt abandoned and betrayed, with Ron turning against me from the start. Why, after everything we went through and all he knew about me, why he thought I wanted more fame, I'll never know.

I admit, when the first task came I gave thought to throwing it all away, wondering if all the pain could be burnt away with the embrace of dragon fire. But I couldn't, some puppeteer was hidden in the shadows, watching this all play out for whatever their final purpose, and I couldn't let the others fall victim to the blade in the dark.

So, I played my role, once more ran into the fray to face the monster and hide from the world how two-faced I was, showing them all a smile to hide the brokenness inside of me. All of it eventually came to fruition as I watched the death of my burgeoning friend Cedric Diggory and being used in a ritual to bring back Voldemort. Being put under his torture curse and forced to duel him under the jeering scrutiny of his followers, I managed to survive it all and bring back the body of my friend to let the world know Voldemort had returned.

But fear can be a funny thing, and the wizarding world showed me they would rather face blissful ignorance rather than face the fear of Voldemort's return, once again turning against me.

Fifth year was by far the worst for me, a turning point in my life, and it changed something fundamental in me that could never be repaired. Being tortured with a blood quill by that loathsome Dolores Umbridge was ignorable at best, I had gone through worse, and teaching other students was nice, as it was good to be needed.

Yet it was the loss of Sirius that change everything for me, more so due to my own action in an attempt to save a man who was never in any danger in the first place. All a trap by Voldemort to gain what I eventually discovered was a prophecy concerning me and him.

When I saw Sirius fall through the veil to his death, after arriving to save me from the trap I so foolishly led my friends and I into, something died inside of me then and there. That was the death of the last man I could hope to call family, the death of my godfather, and the death of that small piece of hope I had at the end of this war.

After learning that I was the pawn of fate and that Dumbledore knew I wouldn't be treated well at the Dursleys, my magic exploded out from me, shattering his office, my magic screaming out the pain burning me up from the inside out. I let out that hidden brokenness inside of me, past the tipping point of caring.

Dumbledore took it all with aplomb and left me to my loss and pain, once more sending me to my prison, assuring me that the blood wards would keep me safe. How that was when Voldemort used my blood for his resurrection, I don't know, maybe Dumbledore just conveniently looked over that fact or just knew something I didn't.

Even still, at the end of it all, it hurt so much, like something at the foundation was broken and bleeding, never to be healed again. The world now knew that Voldemort was truly alive and looked to me as some chosen one to solve their problems once again, but all I could do was drown in my loss, choking on the pain of it all.

Sixth year I was still weighed down by the fresh loss of Sirius, had Dumbledore showing me the life and times of a young Tom Riddle, and once again being ignored when I tried to call out Draco Malfoys suspicious actions. All of it once again accumulating in death, this time in the death of Dumbledore. Draco, the son of a Death Eater, and a vocal supporter of blood supremacy himself, having snuck Death Eaters into a school full of children. Who would have ever thought, right?

At the very least he doesn't seem to be much of a murderer like his father, at least not directly, though attempted murder by cursed objects and poison seems to be well within his capabilities.

And this year, ah, this year was a revelation to be sure, from hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes, seeing the cost of a world run by a madman, and using the killing curse for the first time when we were attacked by Nagini. The last I thought meant I took down the last anchor for Voldemort's immortality, finally able to be killed.

Yet as I said, this was a year of revelations, and through Snape of all people, I found the worst secret of all, that I was a lamb to the slaughter raised by Dumbledore, meant to be killed at the right time. The last anchor that needed to be killed all for Voldemort to finally die.

It was a relief in a way honestly, that I no longer needed to be weighed down by the trials and tribulations of life, and the ceaseless expectations of the wizarding world, only to once again be tossed to the side once my usefulness is finally done. There was no one who really needed me anymore, with both Ron and Hermione able to move on without me I'm sure, and outside of them, no one who will truly miss me for long.

After the recent battle at Hogwarts, with so many dead and loss permeating the air like a baleful fog, Voldemort made his ultimatum to me for all to hear and so my time was up. Walking into the Forbidden Forest with the Resurrection Stone rolling in my hand, here I sat contemplating the journey of my life, and I can say for certain that I am tired.

I am so very tired.

I'm tired of the pain, I am tired of the loss, I am tired of that constant emptiness deep inside of me, and I am tired of the need to wear this false smile. Looking up I see the shades of those I lost, those whom I loved and could have loved, and those who loved me.

I try and reach out to my mother, my hand falling through, and it hurts so much that I can't at least once be held by her, to feel and know the warmth of a mother's love. I look around me, my mother, my father, my godfather all surrounding me at the end of my life, a small comfort at least.

I take at least some solace that I locked down the wards of Grimmauld Place to keep Lupin and Tonks at home with their newborn son, this war has caused enough orphans.

I look to those I lost and that ragged wound deep inside of me bleeds ever further and I almost choke on all the pain anew.

"You've been so brave, sweetheart," my mother tells me, a kind smile on her youthful face.

"Why are you here? All of you?" I ask them all, shame filling me at their deaths and how my life seemed to have a hand in all their ends.

"We never left" my mother tells me, making me feel just a little less alone, a little more loved in this life, even if the pain remains unabated.

Looking to Sirius I have to ask him, to settle some of the last of my fear overhanging my heart, "does it hurt? Dying".

"Quick than falling asleep" he tells me, giving me some small measure of comfort.

"You're nearly their son" my father tells me, offering me some final encouragement in my final moments.

"I'm sorry, I never wanted any of you to die for me" I tell them all, feeling as if I was never worthy of their sacrifice in the first place. But regardless of that, I have to ask, "You'll stay with me?"

"Until the end" my father tells me, giving me comfort that I won't see my end alone.

"And he won't be able to see you?" I ask, an almost childish fear suffusing me at the thought of Voldemort banishing them from my side.

"No, we're here you see" Sirius tells me, pointing to my heart. Making me almost cry at the gesture, as my heart has felt ragged and raw for so long.

"Stay close to me" I tell them, giving them all one last look.

"Always" my mother tells me, and with that I drop the stone, walking further into the darkening woods to meet my death.

Soon along the wooded path, I see my killer, cloaked in wrath and I approach in neither fear nor shed a tear, for in this final moment in my final hour, to Death I will not cower, but met meet my end to him, as a friend.

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, come to die" Voldemort spoke, trying to hold an air of gravitas among his followers, the soon-to-be mortal man.

"Unlike you Voldemort, I see death as a merciful end to a painful life and do not cower or run away. You'll meet your own like the coward you are, to fade away with your torn-asunder soul" I told him, a smile on my lips.

Don't forget, it's in the eyes

With an angry sneer, Voldemort points his wand at me and yells "Avada Kedavra!", and with a deadly green flash, all goes dark.

ΩΩΩ

Opening my eyes, I look around me, getting up from the pure white floor and seeing Kings Cross station around me, and just ahead, a hooded figure cloaked all in black. Off to the side, I see a deformed and bloody dwarf version of Voldemort, broken and emaciated. A moment after it bursts into flames, breaking down into a pile of black ash.

With a sigh, I know my part is done and in unhurried steps, I approach whom I assume to be Death.

Death POV

I watched and waited as the young man approached me, his soul war-torn and weary from a painful life of loss and starved of love.

"Is it all over? Am I finally done?" the young man asks me.

"Yes, your part is done, though you may return if you so wish. His soul for yours" I tell him, letting him know he has a choice for the next part of his journey.

"Am I needed though? To finish him" he asks tiredly.

"No, by the destruction of his last soul anchor by his own hand he has been greatly weakened. Any witch or wizard may slay him now. That burden is no longer yours and yours alone" I tell Harry Potter kindly, reliving him of his final burden from life.

"Then I choose not to return. I, I'm so tired, please, I just want to rest" he tells me, his eye moist from tears unwilling to be shed.

"Then rest and love you may have eternal" I inform him, his final rest well deserved after the trials and tribulations of his life. He smiles at me then, a true and real smile that is a first from him in such a long time but pauses suddenly, seemingly unsure about something.

"Was I a freak?" he asks, deep-seated pain shining out from his eyes.

"No young Harry Potter, you were a hero" I answer him honestly.

The young man who stood before me suddenly turns into a young boy of eleven years, "was I unwanted?" he asks me, eyes shedding tears long held back.

"No, you were loved and wanted by those you lost, and cherished by the friends you died for," I tell him, soothing the wounds of his battered heart.

From the young boy now stood a child of five, looking up at me with shining green eyes, "was I a burden?" he asks me, his childish voice still giving credence to the seriousness of his question.

"No child, you were a savior to a world that did not cherish you as it should have" I answer, the world around us transforming into a brightly lit green pasture. He looks up at me once again after thinking about what I said and then gives me a wide and bright smile, laughing as he runs across the soft green fields. The waiting arms of his mother open wide and picking him up in a warm embrace, kissing his now bright and happy face. The waiting forms of his family now holding him close, his father and godfather telling him how much he is loved.

"Be at peace Harry Potter and find the love in death you were denied in life. Be at peace" I said with a whisper, watching as the hero of the wizarding world finally finds his happiness.

The End

Song that was Referenced: Rosendale, Godrix - Two Faced

Album I listen to when writing: Piano Stories – Joe Hisaishi