a/n: This is a dark story. Take the warning for suicide seriously. Also, this accidentally got deleted, so this is a repost.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Harry ducked instinctively, and watched the harsh green light streak past him, striking Sirius directly in the chest. His body slumped to the ground.

Harry froze, the battle around him forgotten. He ran to Sirius, and kneeled beside him, embracing his broken form in his arms. Sirius couldn't be . . . couldn't be . . . . But Sirius remained still, unresponsive, oblivious to Harry and his pain.

In the last two years, Sirius had become not quite like a father to Harry, but something closer to an older brother, or an uncle. Harry desperately needed a loving parental figure who cared about him. Most of the wizarding world was interested in the Boy Who Lived, the famed wizard who had vanquished Voldemort. Sirius - along with Hermione, the Weasleys and Remus Lupin - cared for Harry Potter, for his emotions and feelings, and not just for the scar on his forehead. Sirius was the only adult who had ever made him feel loved and wanted.

And now he was crumpled on the floor, cradled in Harry's arms and would never hug Harry again. He would never tease Remus or yell at Kreacher or become Padfoot or curse Snape. He would never recover from his trip to Azkaban, get over his old grudges, or form new ones. Sirius was dead, and Bellatrix and Voldemort were going to pay for taking away him away from Harry.

And once he was avenged, Harry was going to join him, was going to follow him into the bleak unknown that hovered just beyond human awareness. After all that happened, he didn't thing he had the strength to stay here, to play the role of 'hero' that wizarding society -Dumbledore!- was so determined he master. He wasn't a hero. He couldn't prevent Voldemort's resurrection. He hadn't even been able protect Cedric.

He was tired of being used. To Voldemort, he was a tool to enable his own rebirth. To Dumbledore, he was a convenient face to rally the masses while he plotted the demise of his arch-rival. To Fudge, he was a scapegoat to direct public attention away from his own incompetency.

And now, Harry was going to choose his own fate. He was going to be an avenging angel for all of the helpless victims of the dark Satan that had stained Britain with blood and fear in his undying quest for power.

Harry gently laid Sirius down on the cold Ministry stone floor. He stood up and drew his wand, his eyes taking in the battle around him. Neville was dueling Lucius, and was surprisingly holding his own. Kingsley was battling Dolohov, and Remus and Tonks had paired up against Bellatrix.

And Dumbledore was furiously dueling Voldemort. Dumbledore managed to dodge or repel all of Voldemort's spells, even as he himself hurled hex after curse after jinx at Voldemort. Voldemort was one of the best, most feared duelers in Britain, but it was obvious that even he was having difficulty in a one-on-one duel against Dumbledore.

Voldemort was not paying much attention to his surroundings, too busy concentrating on dueling Dumbledore. Doubtless, he thought that his Death Eaters would protect their leader from any possible danger. But all of the Death Eaters were fighting Order of the Phoenix members, and Voldemort was unprotected. And Harry saw his chance to avenge Sirius.

He took a couple of steps forward, ensuring that Voldemort was directly in his line of sight, that no other duels were between him and the Dark Lord.

'Avada Kedavra!' Harry yelled, jabbing his wand forward. Harry was sure that his anger was vast enough, fiery enough, cold enough to fuel the spell. A green beam jetted from his wand, and struck Voldemort's shoulder. Harry's lips twisted into a harsh smile, confident that Voldemort would die, that the war would be over, that magical Britain would be safe from this dangerous madman. Confident that he would be free to join Sirius.

And Voldemort crumpled to the floor. All of the Death Eaters froze, and turned to face their master. Harry took the opportunity to quickly fire another Avada Kedavra, this time at Bellatrix. Her body was sprawled on the ground, her body unnaturally still, her mouth twisted in a hard, frozen rictus of death.

Voldemort was dead. Bellatrix was dead. And Harry was free to die, to join Cedric, and Sirius. And his parents. A small lump formed in Harry's throat when he thought about his mum and dad.

He pointed his wand towards his chest, determined to do it, to end it. He dimly heard someone shouting at him, but ignored them. He knew he could do it, that he hated himself, was angry at himself, enough to do it. Sirius and Cedric and his parents and countless innocents died because of him. His blood fueled Voldemort's return, and was thus at least partly responsible for all of the crimes Voldemort committed in the past year. Voldemort instigated a war just to get at Harry. People were hurt because of him, tortured because of him, killed because of him. They deserved justice, and he was going to give it to them. He deserved to die, and would, to make up for all of the horrors that he caused.

He dimly heard someone yelling at him, but shrugged them off. His friends would be disappointed in him, he knew, but he would be dead, and wouldn't have to face them.

'Avada Kedavra,' he whispered.

He heard a strangled shout behind him.

A spell jolted into him.

The world went black.

Harry Potter was free, and at peace.

a/n: Yeah, that was dark. I always felt that if HP wasn't marketed to kids, Harry'd be depressed/suicidal for the last few books. And I also feel he should've had a much stronger reaction to Sirius's death than he did in canon.

Also, this seems to ignore Horcruxes. Maybe this takes place in a universe where Horcruxes don't exist. More interestingly, maybe Horcruxes do exist, and now that Harry's killed himself, there's no one to defeat Voldemort when he eventually resurrects himself. I might decide to come back and right that one day. We'll see.

Anyways, reviews are nice :)