I have no idea where this came from. Oh, and I don't own any characters, I just borrow cause I'm too lazy to come up with my own characters.
Harry was dying. He could feel the life leaving his body; the metallic, warm liquid flowing from an unknown number of injuries. But blood loss was not what was killing him. No, the destruction of the final piece of Voldemort's splintered soul, the one that resided in the hideous body, was causing the pain in Harry's frail body.
It was ironic. Harry went into the final battle knowing he would die. How could he possibly look in the face of pure evil and survive? But somewhere near the end, he felt a glimmer of hope. He could win. And he did.
Harry was alone, so alone. He was leaning against a tree; the sun was rising, casing its warm embrace upon Harry's face for the last time. The final battle was not what everyone expected; outside in the moonlight, moonlight tainted with the blood of the fallen. Harry had been taunting Voldemort the entire time, drawing him away from his friends. They ended up here.
Spasms of pain racked his entire body as the backlash of Voldemort's dying piece of soul slowly took over what was left of Harry. The soul was so tainted, evil. Harry's body could not withstand it.
He wished he would drift into unconsciousness, but even that one mercy was not to be granted to him. He would be awake until his body gave out. To take his mind off the pain, he thought of his friends, wondering if they were alive.
Ron. From the moment he met him on the train to Hogwarts, he knew Ron would be his best friend. The easy acceptance, trying a dud spell, being completely awkward with the entrance of the seemingly bossy Hermione…
Hermione. How he loathed her when they met. Always right, worried about the rules Hermione. Thinking about Ron and Hermione hurt more than his body did.
So he thought of everyone who had entered his life and made it better. The entire Weasly family, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, God even Neville, the list went on and on. The woman who had given him a hug in a store before he even knew he was a wizard, was she alive?
Ginny. Harry knew his thoughts would turn to her eventually. Why had he let her go? Why did he distance himself from her? He realized he would never see her face again, never hold her in his arms, never kiss her. He almost died right then and there with the thought. The pain was fading now, but it was only the pain in his body. His heart was breaking in a million pieces.
Harry didn't want to die. He wanted to live, get married to Ginny, have children, and live the normal life that was always denied him. From childhood, he had been marked as different. His path in life was harder than most people would ever dream, and now, at 17, he was dying before he ever got to live.
The sun had completely risen, and Harry was glad he would not die in darkness. He had closed his eyes to block out the pain and death, but now he struggled to open them, to see the sun shimmer on the morning dew. It was beautiful.
Breathing became difficult as a new wave of pain filled him. The broken soul was trying one last desperate attempt to take over his body. Harry realized he could let the soul in, he could live. Then he grew nauseous at the idea, and pushed the soul away from his own. He had to die, if he died, the twisted soul would die with him. He was holding it in his broken body so it could not flee. The vicious and hateful legacy of Voldemort would be gone forever.
His vision began to fade, and Harry gave up his struggle.