Author's Note: While working on the next part of A Light Shining in Darkness, I was listening to Simon and Garfunkel's "A Most Peculiar Man," and I thought it would work well as a Harry Potter story. It is pretty depressing, as all of you who have heard the song should know. So, yeah. Don't expect anything cheerful from this.
He was a most peculiar man. That's what Mrs. Riordan said, and she should know; she lived upstairs from him. She said he was a most peculiar man.
It had been six months since the battle for Hogwarts, six months since Harry had lost... everything. In the aftermath, he found out that Ron and Ginny had been dosing him and Hermione with love potions. Of course, he found out slightly after Ron and Hermione's wedding. Too late to do anything about it. After confronting them, he had been kicked out of the Burrow and instructed never to return. Hermione was so infatuated with Ron that there was no getting through to her; the lively witch who had stuck with Harry through thick and thin was gone. Ginny made it perfectly clear that she was only interested in the notoriety of the Boy-Who-Lived, and after her second affair, Harry decided she wasn't worth it.
Neville and Luna wound up dating, but she was still traumatized from the Malfoys' dungeon and the battle. She wanted nothing to do with Harry anymore, and he honestly couldn't blame her. Neville told him that he couldn't go behind Luna's back and continue speaking with him; he chose her over Harry. Harry understood this too, and while it hurt, it didn't hurt as deeply as he was expecting. Ron's betrayal and the loss of Hermione had numbed him.
Tonks and Remus were dead, and with them died Harry's hopes of a new gang of Marauders. It just wasn't fun anymore. Andromeda Tonks, Teddy's guardian, told Harry in no uncertain terms that while she didn't blame Harry for her daughter's death, he was still an unsafe influence on her grandson. Harry respected her wishes and left her and his godson alone.
Hagrid still cared and worried about Harry, but he had a lot on his mind. His job and his relationship with Olympe took up most of his time, and while Harry was still welcomed over, it wasn't like the good old days. He understood; honestly, he did. But he came by less and less, and eventually he stopped showing up at all.
Professor McGonagall was still supportive of Harry, but shortly after the battle she suffered a heart attack brought on by one of Voldemort's curses. She was healed, but an attack by a death eater left her comatose. Harry visited her in St Mungo's every Saturday, feeling guilty. She and the empty cage of his beloved owl were the only things left to remind him of the good times, but the good times were so long ago now.
He was a most peculiar man. He lived all alone, within a house, within a room, within himself. A most peculiar man.
Harry slowly stopped visiting people. He began to spend more and more time in his room in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was one of the few people he interacted with anymore, and even that was limited to asking for more firewhiskey. The Man-Who-Won spent his days drinking himself into a stupor, trying to forget the world and his past. He failed. Becoming more and more miserable, he resorted to drinking more and more. Eventually, he stopped getting drunk. He was still imbibing six or seven pints of the potent beverage each night; it just wasn't affecting him anymore.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke. And no one in turn ever spoke to him, 'cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care, and he wasn't like them, oh no, he was a most peculiar man.
He stopped speaking with Tom. He would go down to the bar, grab eight or nine bottles of firewhiskey, and return to his room. He would drink them alone, and he would wake up the next afternoon and do it again. The only person with whom he interacted was Draco Malfoy, and then only because they both felt alienated by the world. Rarely eating, rarely drinking except to forget, he began to waste away until he was little more than skin and bones. He didn't care, though. If they didn't care about him, why should he care? The Dursleys were right; he was a freak. Tolerated while needed, but after his job was done he was tossed aside. When Malfoy showed up one day, looking panicked at seeing Harry's state, he refused to say a word. When Draco begged him to speak, began insulting him and all his friends to try to get a response from the broken wizard, Harry remained silent. Eventually, even his infrequent visitor got the hint, and left him alone.
He died last Saturday. He turned on the gas and he went to sleep with the windows closed so he'd never wake up to his silent world and his tiny room, and Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere who should be notified soon.
Harry began to reflect on the prophecy. He had originally thought that it meant that both he and Voldemort would need to die, and the longer he thought, the more likely it seemed that he was right. Nothing mattered anymore. The wizarding world he had saved wasn't grateful; they were scared. Harry was more powerful than even Dumbledore had been, and they hated him for it. One day, bitter and lonely, Harry lay down on his bed and waited to die.
Eventually, he did.
Excerpt from the Daily Prophet:
The Boy Who Lived passes away
By Rita Skeeter
Harry Potter passed away last night in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Potter, savior of the wizarding world, had been feeling unwell for some time, and all indications are that his unfortunate demise was of natural causes.
Although they were able to be reached, Mr. Potter's surviving friends declined to comment.
And all the people said, "What a shame that he is dead, but wasn't he a most peculiar man?"