A/N: never written a suicide story before so I hope I done it in a way that is respectful as possible.
Please let me know what you think.
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Harry Potter:
Was there really any other way for my story to end?
Did anyone actually think I'd just get married settle down? Maybe have some children. After all I've seen all I've lived through. Is that really possible for anyone?
Truthfully I'm tired; tired of hearing all the screams of, of seeing all the faces of the one I loved the ones that died.
I did my duty I saved wizard kind, now I don't know how to get passed it. And truly what's worse is the way the story gets twisted. They see me as some boy genius. Don't they understand how much help I had how many people sacrificed themselves for me along the way. But more than that, they portray me as some selfless person who took on Voldemort as some selfless act to save wizard kind.
Even those closest to me believe that, those who died believed that, when the startling truth is I did it for revenge. My own personal revenge. If it wasn't my parents killed who knows what I'd have done. I know I'd like to think I'd still fight but deep down I know I'd have done nothing. I would have hidden and waited for someone else to take care of it. knowing what I do know I suppose if it wasn't me it would have been Neville.
I wasn't born brave naw have I developed bravery, it's a simple case of having nothing to live for. That's why I had no fear for myself.
Since birth almost I've been around death without even knowing about it , then at 11 I discovered this whole world beyond what I ever imagined, and yet not one thing in this magical world could fill the hole inside that was missing. Over time 2 came close, Sirius and Dumbledore but that like everyone else. Believed me to be more then what I was, they believed me worthy to die for.
Some could argue they were right, after all I did defeat Voldemort. Sorry let me rephrase that I killed Voldemort. But even so, it is he who defeated me. I'm forever haunted by the pain caused by him and his followers. It's this that makes me unable to move on. To love, for all the importance Dumbledore placed on love. Voldemort destroyed everything within me I had to love, a part of it at birth by taking away my parents and the rest over time from the age of 11 to the age of 17. By surrounding me with nothing but death and pain many of who underwent it in the name of my survival.
There are some people more suited for war then peace time. They thrive in it. Then there are the select few that function in both, in my life that's Ron and Hermione. I don't blame them for that, I envy them. They found love during a time where love wasn't easy and they are doing just as fine in a time where its encouraged. In fact they are expecting their first child.
Sometimes, usually when I'm lying in bed at night I think about what could have been, if when I had gotten back with Ginny, we actually lasted. What would my life have been? Would we be married? Would we ourselves be expecting children? Then like ice water thrown in my face I remember.
Remember that we tried but were simply to damaged, she from the loss of a brother and other suffering she saw firsthand and me? I think I'm explaining quite well what's wrong with me, adding to the issues was that for a majority of years whilst I was battling Voldemort, Ginny wasn't there. She was off, living happily, dating boys as far removed for hunting horcruxes and deciphering Dumbledore's messages as possible. So as hard as she tried I just couldn't tell her everything and be that honest with her. There was so much I still didn't understand fully, too much confusion and details. We were both so hurt we brought each other down. But we still stuck together. In the end what broke us up was the knowledge that every time she looked into my face she saw everything associated with her brother's death and that was killing all the goodness she had left. It was no one's fault it just wasn't meant to be.
But that was years ago, she moved on met a boy and got married. As for me? I was doing ok a bit robotic and withdrawn but ok. So why end it now?
I caught myself this morning, wanting Voldemort to return. Not necessarily him exactly but that evil. I thrive in war time. I want it back so much so that I was thinking maybe since I can't wait for I Voldemort; I'll just be him instead. I had it planned out exactly how I was to become the next dark lord. And the thought alone, excited me made me feel alive. Then the phone rang and I woke back up into myself.
So I must end it, what if the phone hadn't awoken me or what if one day I'm not strong enough anymore to fight against the overbearing want. Then I'd become the person I hate. And I can't do that.
I know enough, to know that I'm a symbol of hope to what's left of the wizarding world. And I won't disappoint them or betray those that died this will be the least selfish thing I've ever done.
So once the phone stopped I picked up a quill and a piece of parchment and wrote a note. It was simple but all that was truly needed. Then I walked through the empty house into the lounge room picking up the frame containing the basilisk fang from all those years ago, remembering how this should have killed me in second year. Thinking in only fitting that it gets a second chance to finish the job. Gripping it tightly I walk over and sitting in an overstuffed armed chair. Taking one last look around before plunging it into my vein. Straight away I felt the sting of the venom racing through my blood stream leave what felt like fire in its wake.
My eyesight became black around the edges. As I sat there my heart thumping slowly in my chest, getting slower and slower I turn my head to look one last time at my note.
The reason I needed to do this.
And there staring back at me in black ink was...
Mum
Dad
Sirius
Dumbledore
Hedwig
Dobby
Lupin
Madeye
Cedric
Tonks
Fred
Snape
Harry Potter 'the boy who lived'
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A/N: well there you guys go hope you liked it.