Of the Golden Trio, Harry has the most scars. Some are small and unnoticeable. Others are more famous than his face – or more specifically, they’re most famous part of his face. There are three scars more prominent than the others.
First and foremost, naturally, is the lightning bolt scar that graces his forehead. In his youth, it’s covered by his long bangs. Come adulthood, he doesn’t care so much to hide it. Passersby will ask to get a good look, but Harry’s only known to stop for kids. They’re amazed by it, this scar Harry doesn’t even properly remember getting, this scar that started his whole journey. They’ll trace it with their fingers and ooh and aah and ask if it ever hurts. “Never,” he’ll assure them, and that’s true. Not since the war.
The scars on the back of his left hand are fairly well known. Everyone he went to Hogwarts with knows they’re there, knows who put them there, knows how much Harry suffered for speaking the truth. Every now and then, when placed in difficult situations, he’ll glance down at the white words in his own handwriting – ‘I must not tell lies’ – and remember how important it is to fight for what is right. Especially since so many are willing to listen to his voice now.
His third most prominent scar is also his best kept secret. No one sees it much, not really, not except his wife. In the center of his chest is a bolt of lightning, much like that on his forehead. It splinters out from there, striking down to a hip, up to his throat. On dark nights when she wakes from a fresh nightmare, Ginny’s hand finds the center of this scar and rests there a moment, measuring the strong heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Once satisfied, she rolls over and goes back to sleep.
Ron has dozens of scars. Burn scars, Quidditch scars, splinching scars… but none are more obvious than the scars that wind their way up and down his arms. He gets all sorts of theories and he’ll grin at every one. The Giant Squid, maybe, or Venomous Tentacula? Half the time, people think he’s joking when he tells them it’s from brains. Not many people get to see the inside of the Department of Mysteries and walk away with their memories intact, after all.
Ron shows them off in the summer with short sleeves, inviting people to ask with a friendly smile. He’ll talk to anyone at length about them, loves to tell the story. It’s a story of courage, after all, and of loyalty. It gets more dramatic every time, and his family has heard it so many times they can say bits with him. The story ends the same every time. “That’s why Hermione fell for me,” Ron’ll joke. “It’s because I’m so brainy.” And everyone within earshot groans.
No one asks about Hermione’s most prominent scar. No one wants to. Oh, she’s got her fair share of smaller scars like the boys, things no adult would blink an eye at. But one makes whole rooms uncomfortable, carved into her arm as it is. At first, Hermione covers it, not liking the way people stare. She wants them to hear her voice and her thoughts, not look at the scar and wonder and pity. She wears sleeves that go down to her elbows, at least a cardigan. Anything to keep it from being seen.
But rather quickly she stops being afraid of what they’ll think. She comes to see it as a badge of honor. Yes, she’s muggleborn. Yes, this happened to her. They tried to demean her and they failed. They tried to make her feel weak and powerless and less-than and they failed. Yes, she’s muggleborn. Yes, she’s smarter and stronger than you. She stands with her hands on her hips, her eyes level with theirs, and dares them to ask about the foul word someone carved into her skin. She is not ashamed of where she comes from. She is not ashamed of what she’s endured. Look her in the eye, damn it, and see that she persists. She thrives.
This is beautiful. I never thought about Harry’s scar from the second killing curse…
Headcanonsandmore 