Harry James Potter sat at the kitchen table. He was alone, as he always was these days. The times of having friends, of love, of family, they were all over. They were gone with the war, slipping further and further away from him as everyone he knew died.

Oh, they had won the war. The Chosen One had killed Voldemort. Most days, he wondered, though: does anyone really win when everyone dies?

After all that, Harry didn't even want to live. He did anyway. Even on the anniversaries of their deaths, or on the days when he could barely even think beyond the pain of the losses. Because they would have wanted him to. And after all that had been sacrificed for him to live, he couldn't just throw that away.

He ran through it all again in his mind.

Lily and James Potter, his parents, hit with Killing Curses when he turned one. The deaths that started it all; killed for a stupid prophecy, murdered while defending their son.

Cedric Diggory, hit by a Killing Curse just because he was there during fourth year. It was Harry's first taste of seeing death, and it had given him nightmares for months.

Sirius Black, through the veil in fifth year, trying to get Harry out of the bowels of the ministry. At that time, Harry's only real family.

Albus Dumbledore, fallen by Snape's hand on the tower at the end of sixth year. Harry's mentor, the infallible symbol of light in a mass of grey and the final death before the Final Battle. Fitting, Harry supposed.

And on to the Final Battle:

Luna Lovegood, hit by a wayward Sectumsepra. This particular death had made Harry disgusted every time he saw a knife, and it had been by far the bloodiest murder of his friends. Thinking of it made him cringe.

Neville Longbottom, fallen to a Killing Curse. Bellatrix Lestrange had finally managed to do what she had always wanted: finish the complete destruction of the family.

Fred, George, and Bill Weasley caught in Fiendfyre. Harry hated lighting fires for that reason.

Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, with the same curse that she had been hit with at the Ministry, but this time spoken aloud, making it so much more deadly. Harry had not even wanted to go on after this death, but he had known he would have to.

Mr. Weasley, and his sons Charlie and Percy Weasley, by giants outside the school. Nasty deaths, leaving him with only 2 remaining members to the only real family he had ever been a part of.

Remus and Tonks Lupin, who had fallen together while battling Death Eaters. The final Marauder, and his wife, who was pregnant at the time.

Mrs. Weasley, who brought about the end of Bellatrix Lestrange, died from Voldemort himself in the next second. She was the closest person to a mother Harry would ever know.

Ron Weasley, his best mate, sacrificing himself while killing Nagini, who had to bleed out slowly from the snake bites. He hadn't really been able to go on after Hermione's death.

And finally, Ginny Weasley. The love of his life. He wished she could be with him every single day of his miserable life. Voldemort hit her with a Killing Curse too.

It had been the last straw for Harry, and Voldemort had fallen by his wand soon after.

Even after he was dead, the wounds left by Voldemort would never heal. Harry dreamed every day of how he might do it over again, if he only had the chance. Maybe some of them could have lived. Even if no one else could… Maybe Ginny might have. He dreamed of that world. It was all that got him through most days.

With everything lost, it felt as though the time had practically stopped, and each second dragged into minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. And slowly, the years had passed.

ooooooooooooooooo

On Harry's 30th birthday, he had awoken in the House of Black with presents, just as he got every year.

Stupid fans sent all sorts of things to their Wizarding Savior. It was ridiculous. He looked through them, just because he had nothing better to do. Most of them he would never deign to open, but he did appreciate that they thought of him, even if he scoffed at the whole thing.

Most of them were books, because clearly creativity should not be wasted on such things as gifts. Some were potion ingredients, money, wand holsters, luggage, cauldrons, and other assorted magical products that could easily be bought in Diagon Ally.

One of these presents stood out; it was rather unusual. It was a potion bottle, with a tag attached: In the hopes that you can change the miserable state of things by drinking this.

Harry took off the wrapping paper, as it had successfully sparked his curiosity. A rare feat, as most days he didn't feel curious. Just tired.

Inside the bottle was a highly unusual looking potion. It was a bright silver, with slight bubbling. He took off the cap and took a small sniff. It was odorless.

And as much as he knew he shouldn't, he had this strange desire to down the bottle. It was unexplainable, but he felt that the potion was benign, and might perhaps help him.

What did he have to lose, after all? Surely not his family and friends. Not a warm home. Not happiness.

So why not?

"Bottoms up," he whispered to himself.

He swallowed the little potion in one gulp, and felt the strangest sensation all throughout his body….It was as if every cell in his body was tingling.

His mind was consumed by darkness.