The Fallen Angel

I do not own Harry Potter, but I wish I did.

Anyone looking for their Hero, Savior of the world, would not be looking here.

After killing his greatest enemy at the tender age of 15, many had different ideas of his response.

It is the idea of most that killing rips away innocence, and everyone agrees he was a most innocent child. Many expected him to cheer and lead the festivities that came. Many expected him to hide and cry. After the weeks of paranoia about possible attacks, some expected a jumpy boy who would want a normal life. A few thought he would bask in the glory.

None expected him to disappear like smoke. The innocence in him that made up so much of who he was, took root more in his soul, and caged him behind the bars of innocence, protecting him from the memories of his torture, both from his relatives and others.

If one looked for him, they would never find their Hero, because there was no hero to be found.

But if one wanted, one could find the Fallen Angel, who's innocence surprised most people in the village that banded together to protect him.

In a village that time forgot, there is a boy who lives far out along the outskirts, barely there. Never seen during the day, he spends his nights staring at the stars, petting local wild animals, or flying on the white feathered wings that seemed formed from the moonlight that bathed him. He never spoke a word, never asked anything, never took anything unless it was offered, and never harmed a soul. He would appear whenever someone was hurt, applying his healing balms without a word, leaving the balms with the instructions written on them, but not saying anything, or asking payment. The town had agreed, they would protect their Fallen Angel, and if he ever left, they would welcome him back.

Years passed with the fallen angel on the outskirts of town, seen only at night and never saying a word. The angel that had no name, that healed their sick and asked nothing from them. The angel that never died, but just became harder to spot, until it was a rare thing at all for this poor village to find their fallen Angel, who still made sure to drop off the healing potions and balms when someone was ill, but was never seen.

People who searched for the fallen angel often returned no worse for the wear, dazed, but happy and suddenly peaceful. People from out of the town who came to harm the town would find themselves sad about what they were doing, and uncomfortable with the idea, or simply missing. No one who came to the town ever tried to name the Fallen Angel with an earthly name, for it would be like trying to name a moonbeam, it does not have a name and does not need one, because it is what it is.

The angel fell to legend, but was never forgotten. If you find the village, and check the forests at night, you may find the fallen angel that should have lost it's innocence, but only gained more instead.

A/N Don't ask why I wrote this, I just did. It's something that got stuck in my head by a nocturnal plot bunny that wanted me to sleep through my finals.