18 year old Harry Potter sat alone in his bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place hold a long sharp knife. He sat twirling it in his hands staring at the picture of his mother, father, and Sirius. It was the wedding day picture but Remus had it enlarged two Christmas' ago and placed in his bedroom. Tears filled his eyes at what he thought he had to do to find inner peace. He pulled back the sleeve to his shirt and placed the knife to his skin and put slight pressure to it. A thin line of blood sprouted and ran down his arm. After Harry cut his arms once again he stopped the bleeding but not the pain. He stood up, cleaned his knife and placed it in the bottom of his trunk. He looked around his room and sighed. Everything reminded him of every one he lost during the final battle.
The final battle was worst than anyone has ever seen. So many causalities, families lost at least one member even two. The Weasley had it the worst, they lost Percy, Charlie, and Bill was left with 60 of his body burnt. Not to mention Ron was now blind in one eye and Ginny was still holding on for her life. The final battle was four months ago to this day. Harry glance around one more time and with a flick of his wand all his belongings were packed away. He put on his clock and shrunk everything, grabbed his passport and left without anyone seeing him. The letter he had written earlier on his desk waiting for someone to find it.