Darkness obscured his vision. Harry searched for anything that will give him light. He was begging for the light, the darkness driving him insane. What he'd give for the light? Anything, that's what.
Nothing but memories to comfort him, but they were slowly fading. The sound of Ron's laughter, Hermione's voice, Ginny's scent, the Weasley twins and their jokes, Mr. Weasley and...
Wait, who's Mr. Weasley?
Harry had no idea who Mr. Weasley was. And... who are the Weasley twins and who is this Ginny? All he can remember is that he had two friends, and Harry had loved them, until the time they shouted at him and told him they didn't love him. He remembered all the beatings and insults Vernon Dursley threw at him, all the taunts from Dudley Dursley and the hurtful times Petunia Dursley criticized him and hugged Dudley in front of him.
He was lost, all sense losing him slowly but effectively. He didn't want to scream, for fear of no one hearing him, everyone ignoring him and just spitting at him, kicking him and hurting him. The pain, oh, the pain.
...Flashback...
A man with untidy hair and hazel eyes spun him around and kissed him in the cheek. Harry felt relieved that someone actually loved him. James Potter, his father, tickled his stomach and looked at him fondly. Harry laughed and tried to squirm out of the way of the tickles.
A young woman with vibrant red hair and green eyes swooped and stole the baby from James's hands. This could only be his mother. Lily Potter smirked as James glared at her.
"I was having fun with him," James whined.
Lily stomped her foot and humphed. Holding her head high, she began to lead Harry to the stairs. "Oh no, it's his nappy time. Isn't that righhhhhhhhh-"
Lily Potter's words slurred, and at once she hit the floor, baby Harry still clutched in her hand. Emerald eyes stared blankly in the ceiling. Harry's eyes widened and he looked at his father. His father's eyes rolled at the back of his head and fell slumped in the ground.
You killed them...
Harry's tears couldn't stop flowing. The darkness grew thicker around him, and he finally screamed. It was fille with so much emotion and pain, somebody should had heard it.
But no one actually did hear it.
Harry lay hunched on the floor, tears flowing, head down, seeing nothing but endless darkness. His head rested on his shoulders, and he tried sleeping, but found that he couldn't. Harry tried to break free of the endless darkness swirling around him, mocking him..
Wake up, Harry.
What? What was that?
Wake up.
Harry opened his eyes. Ron Weasley was leaning over him. Harry felt warmer now, everything was going to be okay.
This was only one of the hundred times he had this dream. Everything was not going to be okay. After the battle, his friends would die, and he would stand in front of a mirror, trying to kill himself but found that he couldn't because he was the Master of Death. He was going to have a very bad life, filled with wisdom, tortured, traumatized eyes. He couldn't reunite with his family. Harry hated being a wizard. Sure, it was magical, but if Aunt Petunia hadn't found him trying to cut himself when he was ten, he would've been up there. No, he would forever look into a mirror, trying to picture his emerald eyes as hazel, just like his father's, just to think he wasn't alone.
Wrong. He'll be alone forever, always.