"When I was young I wanted to be exactly like you."

I know, Ron.

You had everything I didn't. Fame, friends, money…"

But no family.

"Thing was, I never realized the price you paid for all of it."

I sure did.

"Not once, during all our years at Hogwarts, did I ever think of what you really were to the world."

The sacrificial lamb.

"In a way I'm glad I didn't know."

So am I.

"Not knowing kept me innocent, let me experience childhood for a few more years."

At least one of us was allowed to be a child.

"Course, innocence is always lost when you least expect it."

Believe me, I know.

"And, when I finally grew up, it was because you made me. Indirectly, yes, but you did it."

Really Ron, I'm flattered.

"Y'know, it's not death that's the greatest of life's tragedies, but living after it."

First lesson I ever learned.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Sorry for never realizing the hell you lived in, sorry for being young and carefree while you aged, sorry for everything."

I'm sorry too, Ron.

"And, in my heart, I know I'll see you again someday…"

Can't wait, buddy.

"…But it still hurts."

With these words, Ron Weasley pulled a lumpy package out of his robes and unfolded its brown paper. Squatting down, he placed the contents of the package on the ground in front of the tombstone, which read "Harry Potter, age 18. The Boy Who Lived… And Died."

Standing up, he gently patted the top of the tombstone and Apparated away.

Silently the ghost of Harry Potter glided to the headstone, smiled an impossibly sorrowful smile and began to cry translucent tears as he stared at the object on his grave.

An old frayed green wool sweater with an H on it.

A.N. This came to me when I was listening to Enya- great music for melancholy pieces. I always thought that Harry was considered bait for Voldemort; just to be used to kill Voldie and then forgotten.L That's just my opinion. The sweater was used to represent Harry's lost innocence. Please review, I live off 'em.