Tyro_eve
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How was he supposed to put into words that for the briefest second - back when he and the Dursleys were saying their last goodbyes - he really thought his aunt Petunia would turn around and tell him something more meaningful. How was he supposed to tell them that he, Harry ‘The Boy Who Lived’ Potter, felt five years old again at that moment - with a crumpled Mother’s Day drawing in his hand while Petunia looked at Dudley like he’d just personally hung up the moon for her.
Ron and Hermione would never understand that feeling of walking into the Forbidden Forest, with his hands shaking but his steps steady. And how ever since that day, he felt as if a part of himself was missing. Not that he missed the part of his soul that he had shared with Voldemort - it was more like missing the part of his soul that could have been there instead. That part had never truly existed. Not since he could remember, anyways. That part of his soul died that night at Godrics Hollow, together with his parents and any chance at a childhood, and had been buried together with the resurrection stone and the ghosts of his past.