Harry Potter was the envy of most of the wizards in Magical Britain. He had always been seen as a privileged young man. Revered since before he had learned to talk. Given preferential treatment at Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore and most of the Hogwarts staff. And now that he had defeated the vilest dark wizard since Grindelwald, his stock had only risen. Many believed it was unfair, but there was nothing they could do about it.
No one had ever cared about what he had to endure as a result of everything that had been thrust upon him. He never had his parents' love. He had endured an abusive childhood. He could not have a normal school year without having his life threatened at least once. And he had a vengeful dark lord baying for his blood.
People always saw the bright side, never bothering to think about what he had to sacrifice or go through.
He had always been a helpful young man, always trying to put others before himself, but the treatment he had received at the hands of the Wizarding folk during the war had changed him. No one came forward to help him, fearful of the wrath they might incur from the dark lord and his followers, and even though Harry understood it, it did not mean he liked it. A few, although they didn't extend their help, went a step further and tried to entrap him and his allies to turn him over to Voldemort and curry favor with him.
Now that the problem had been solved, the same people cheered his name, acting as if nothing had ever happened.
The proverbial nail in the coffin had been driven by Ginny. He believed himself to be in love with her, and he had been looking forward to getting together with her once the war ended. Perhaps even form a family with her. That was why he checked the Marauders' Map every night during the Horcrux Hunt to make sure she was safe.
It was on one of those nights that he saw it. Ginny's footsteps were in some classroom on the fifth floor that he knew had remained abandoned for decades. That was not too surprising to him, however. What shocked him was the pair of footsteps right behind hers. The way those two pairs of footsteps were arranged left no doubt in his mind as to what they were up to. For hours he had kept staring at those footsteps, changing angles every so often, and every time they did, his mind conjured the images based on them. It was torture, but it was torture he chose every night.
It was a different room every time, and an odd broom closet or two as well. Sometimes the footsteps faced away from each other, with hers always in front, while sometimes they faced each other. Every time, her footsteps were spread a little further apart. That was not all. He also saw the footsteps overlapping sometimes, either hers on his or his on hers.
He had felt numb in the beginning, not knowing what to think. The numbness shortly gave way to rage. He tortured himself every night, and he fed himself that rage. Betrayal was not something new to him. But it had never hit so close.
He did it for close to a fortnight, and he was not disappointed even once. They did it every night for hours, and that was how long his self-inflicted torture went. The entire episode also affected his relationship with Ron and Hermione who had joined him on the hunt, and even after so many years, the aftereffects remained.
He had always put others before himself, and something like this happened. Every fucking time.
That finally killed any desire he had of doing things for others at the expense of himself. He had half a mind to let everyone rot in this hell they had so willingly surrendered to, but he never gave in to that worthless desire. Not because he cared for them. He didn't. Not anymore. It was because he knew Voldemort would not rest easy until he had killed him, and to live his life on his terms, he had to kill the dark wizard first.
The war had ended, and he had shaken hands with various people who had come forward to thank him for this great service he had done to them. Harry had taken it all with a pinch of salt. He knew their opinion would sway quicker than a whore when offered a fat stack of galleons, and he didn't put much stock in their admiration of him. What he did though, was use the situation to his advantage.
Fast forward four years, and at the age of twenty-two, Harry Potter was one of the richest wizard in Magical Britain. But riches alone were not enough. He needed a hobby that he would enjoy and one that would bring him power in equal measure. The post of Minister had been offered to him, but he showed his generosity and declined, which earned him even more acclaim and words of praise from the public although they were also disappointed that he had not taken the post. Instead, he enrolled as a rookie auror, to everyone's surprise.
He dedicated himself in the field, and quickly made a name for himself as the most gifted auror the forces had ever had. He never used his fame to gain any undue advantage, and even though there were many who were jealous of him, no one could point out a flaw in the way he had gone about things. He earned everything he had, even though he could have had it all without putting in so much effort. That earned him immense respect from everyone.
Magically, he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, with the knowledge that many would kill for. The Elder Wand was his, and so were the memories he had obtained from Voldemort when the dark lord had killed the Horcrux he had inadvertently placed inside him. Harry believed those memories also had a role to play in how his psyche had changed since that incident, but he knew the most they had done was possibly amplify what was already in his mind.