Or he thought he did. Before everything had happened. Before he fell in love. Before he called himself a new name, with a new past. With only a few other's knowledge, he had to sneak himself into this new life to see what he had helped to create, and what the others created before him. Now he was terrified of everyone; of the disconnect he had lived with these people. They dripped with ideology and spouted ignorance. Their entire lives were watched, but not by him.

There would be no bullet for him. He could be back behind his wall that protected him. He knew now that the walls protected him from truth. He was a god, asked for guidance and mercy, and then provided with deceit. But, like Zeus, he had to come down from Olympus and bed a mortal woman to realize what occurred on Earth.

There would be hot fire and thunder, but not for those here in the mud. It is the mountain itself that would crumble. These ministries--industries of fear and pain will fall and burn and the sun would shine again on the fields of workers. It will be done. He was Big Brother.

"The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry's hand was still raised in farewell."

"'He'll be alright,' murmured Ginny."

"As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead."

"'I know he will.'"

"The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well."

And then Harry woke up in the cupboard under the stairs, his mind whirling, eyes staring unseeingly at the spider that was so close to his face...

It was so real, but it wasn't...

The sound of Mrs. Dursley's voice broke through his haze. "Wake up, you lazy good-for-nothing boy!"

Harry groaned. It had been a wonderful night, albeit a long one...

Nineteen years was a long time to dream.

He was only eleven.