(Warning: Contains suicidal thoughts and self harm. You have been warned.) Please enjoy! (Obviously not cannon to the ending of the books or movies.)
"It's my fault they're dead." I say as I look into the lake, staring hatefully at my rippling reflection. It's been mere hours since the final battle. I haven't tried to clean myself up or anything; I just wanted to be alone to think.
My face is still bloody on the sides, and dirt is still streaked on it. I repaired my glasses of any breaks, but left my wounds unattended. I need something to feel.
"I'm sorry, Lupin... Fred... Tonks... Serius... It's my fault. All of it..." I whisper to no one.
I fiddle with my newly repaired wand in my red stained hands. What if I... just...
I hold the wand to one of my hundreds of scars: this one from when Wormtail cut open my arm with his silver dagger to bring Voldemort back after Cedric was killed... after Cedric was killed because of me.
I set my emotions, and whisper the spell; the one I found in Snape's potions book.
"Sectumsempta" I whisper, the wand pointing at the scar. Immediately I grip the wand hard, affected from the excruciating pain.
Giant cuts open all over my arm, the biggest reopening where I was cut with the dagger. I scream in agony, but it's a twisted feeling; it hurts almost as much as some of the things Voldemort did to me... but it's also like I deserve it... I deserve more pain to make up for the pain I've caused.
"S-sectumsempta" I stutter through gritted teeth, this time the wand pointed directly at my chest, just as it was when I did it to Malfoy. More scars reopen, more blood oozes, and I scream more, in pain and satisfaction.
"I-I deserve this." I say to myself. Blood is everywhere around me, and I physically can't hold my wand anymore, so I drop it uselessly in the pool of crimson around me. I groan in pain.
"Harry?" Someone says. I can't answer.
"Hello?" Another voice says.
"HARRY! HARRY WHERE ARE YOU?" A voice that I think is Hermione's screams.
"HARRY COME ON!" I believe Ron says. I hear footsteps between my ragged breaths. I close my eyes softly, taking the excruciating pain that I obviously deserve.
"What's that?" A voice says. It may have been Neville's.
"Where?" The airy voice of Luna replies.
"By the lake..." Neville answers meekly.
Heavy footsteps quickly tramp towards me in the now dearly dark twilight. From under my lids I can see the bright white light of wands. My heart is beating quickly to compensate for all the blood I lost. My chest is rising and falling rapidly with my frantic breaths.
'I deserve this.'
'I deserve this.'
'I deserve this.'
I chant in my head as the pain reaches a climax.
"Is that?..." Ginny's voice says, fearfully.
"Harry." Ron says, in what was basically a whisper.
"Luna, go get help." Hermione says, presumably to Luna, who must be running off. My friends are running over to me, and I can feel them kneeling at my sides. I crack open my eyelids to see their terrified and worried faces.
"Harry..." Ginny says, tears crystallizing her truffle colored eyes.
"Go..." I say, quietly. The edges of my vision is fading to black, and I know I'll soon be either unconscious or dead soon enough. Either would be fine.
"W-what?" Hermione cries.
"Harry why..." Neville says, concerned. My vision is swimming from clear to blurred.
"Who did this to you?" Ron asks, angrily. I don't know how to respond. My brain is going fuzzy...
"It... was all... my f-fault..." I struggle to get out.
"W-what?" Ginny asks; she's gripping my hand, and is covered with my blood from what I can see. I close my eyes.
"My f-f-fault... th-they're dead." I whisper quietly. I can hardly focus anymore.
"N-no!" Ron and Hermione say.
"Mr... Mr. Potter! Oh, Harry!" The familiar voice of Professor McGonagall gasps. By this point, I'm hardly conscious; I can hardly feel my self-inflicted wounds being healed by her wand, and myself being lifted by Ron and Neville, and my hand being tightly gripped by Ginny.
I can hardly feel the trip to the ruined castle; the frightened gasps and screams of survivors, and the roar of Hagrid when seeing my blood stained robes and pretty much unconscious form.
Professor McGonagall makes a path through the rubble for Ron and Neville to carry my through. I absentmindedly rub my thumb and forefinger together with my eyes closed, making a ball of clumped blood.
My eyelids feel heavier than steel, and I can't remember exactly what I was thinking of before. It's almost like I'm falling asleep and waking up immediately with no recollection of what had happened.
Through the fog in my brain, I can hear doors being thrown open, and loud voices suddenly silencing. I can feel my weight being transferred from the hands of my friends to what may have been a bed or cot; I don't really care. All I know is that I'm supposed to be dead and suffering... and then everything stops.
..~..~..~..~..
"Harry..." A light, but familiar voice says. It sounds like it's coming from somewhere in the distance, but is also right next to me. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I look around, but all I see is endless whiteness.
"Harry, you can't die. Not now, not yet..." A deeper voice says. I recognize it too. Surely enough, the mostly translucent, blue-tinged ghostly forms of my dead parents appear.
They float up to me, and my mother puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and has a caring, yet worried look of motherly ferocity on her face. My father is standing in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of uncertainty on his kind face.
"I know you think that you deserve what you did to yourself..." My father says, forlornly, almost even... disappointed. "But you have to realize those people gave up their lives for what they believed in. You didn't force them into battle, it was their choice. They followed you, because they believed in you. They wouldn't want you to suffer." He says.
"They wouldn't want you to hurt or torture yourself because of them... that's not how they want to see the boy who killed Lord Voldemort die. They fought for freedom, your freedom. And that's what they want you to use." My mother says.
"Go back to the real world. Live the life you deserve, Harry." My father says. I smile at him.
"We love you, so much. We'll see you again, honey." My mother says, kissing my forehead, right on my scar. And with that, I'm sent back to real life.
..~..~..~..~..
I crack open my eyes and squint from the bright lights. A bunch of relieved familiar faces stand looking down onto me from where I lay.
My head is pounding, but I find the strength to sit up.
"H-Hey... guys." I say, and ironic smile on my face. The room bursts into smiles and cheers. Ginny throws her arms around me, but is quickly pulled off by Madam Pomfrey.
"Calm down! He just woke up from being pretty much dead." She scolds Ginny, who blushes bright red.
"Sorry." She says, meekly, before turning her attention back to me.
"Harry! I'm so glad you're alright!" Ron exclaims.
"We were so worried!" Hermione says exasperated.
"I-I'm sorry... I just...-" I try to start an explanation, but am cut off my Professor McGonagall.
"Thought you deserved it?" She asks, though it's more of a statement. I nod. "Yes, to be honest, I almost expected this to happen. It's called Survivor's guilt. I can assure you, Mr. Potter, that those who lost their lives did it for what they believed in, and died a noble death." She says.
"I... I know... my parents explained it to me..." I say, but when they all look confused, I recap my encounter with my parents while I was in limbo.
"They always were wise beyond their years.." Professor McGonagall sighs. I smile.
"Yeah... They made me want to stay here with you..." I look around the room at my friends' smiling faces. "for a little bit longer."
(A/N: hope you enjoyed!)