Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned nor any of the potterverse belong to me, they belong to the talented J.k Rowling.
When he shook his hand that day, he had no reason to believe that it would lead him here, battered, bloodied and betrayed. As he looked down he noticed the scarlet liquid staining the emerald patches on his robes. A faint memory flashed through his mind… the train, Scarlet… Gryffindor…. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger… they were both dead now, killed by the mountain troll that found its way in on that fateful Halloween, Harry could still hear an echo of Hermione's scream in his mind… he let his mind wonder to those two, would they have been his friends… would he still have friends, would he not be in his current predicament… alone… friendless. As Voldemort raised his wand to utter the final blow… Harry regretted and cursed the day he ever became friends with one Draco Malfoy.