The Broken Truth behind the Pretty Lies

The real distinction is between those who adapt their purposes to reality and those who seek to mold reality in the light of their purposes.

Henry Kissinger

Disclaimer: If you know English well, you probably know that means I DON'T OWN IT

Note: This takes place during DH, kind of like a missing scene. Slight spoilers, I think.


It was the night after we had broken into Gringotts when Harry came over to sit by me. I could see that he was thinking about something really hard. He was silent for a while before he spoke.

"Are they all blind, Hermione?" I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I looked at him quizzically. He compliantly broadened his question.

"On our way to Gringotts, I heard a little boy say, 'I wish I was Harry Potter, Mommy.' Do they really believe my life is all just peachy? Can't they see that I would trade places with them in an instant?"

"It's not that they can't see, Harry, more that they don't want to. They don't want to see the broken truth behind the pretty lies, because reality is harsh. They'd rather delude themselves. If they let themselves believe that your life is easier than theirs, they don't have to feel guilty for not being able to do the things you do.

"They don't have to face the reality that they could do things like that too, if they tried. If a boy from a miserable background like yours can to the things you do, turn out as good as you, then what's their excuse? It's just easier to lie to themselves than to try to explain why they aren't doing anything worthwhile when they're in a much better position to do something."

"Why would they lie to themselves? Not even the good people are doing anything!" he questioned.

"Are you really that naïve?" As I saw him begin to protest, I explained.

"I don't mean that in the way you think. I know you know what people are capable of. I meant you still think of people as black and white, when they are really many shades of gray. They don't do anything because they're scared, Harry," I told him gently. He looked like he had a lot to think about.

"Go to bed, Harry. You need some sleep." He complied, and I went to bed too, but I didn't sleep. I was thinking about the truth about what I had said, mulling it over.


Please review! I will return the favor.

Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.

Philip K. Dick