It had been two days since Hedwig had left. Two days with no food and no water. The owl's water was running dangerously low and the room was beginning to smell. He'd been using an old bucket he'd found in the closet as a loo but hadn't been able to empty it anywhere except outside and he was hesitant to do that for two reasons. First, if his uncle found out his punishment would be even worse than the one now. Second, if someone came to claim the owl, they'd be standing right where his…waste… would land.

He was also bored. No, bored was an understatement. He had past boredom hours ago. He'd already counted the number of panels in the floor, the number of cracks in the ceiling, even the number of breaths he took. He'd lost count in the thousands, but that had still only taken what seemed like a few minutes. Not that he would know how long it had been since the only clock he had had been broken by Dudley years ago. Since that had been the third time he'd broken it Harry had decided to just live without it after that.

Eventually his thoughts became more morbid. The night at the graveyard flashed across his eyes for the millionth time. Over and over he stared into Cedric's haunted eyes, at the matrix between brother wands, at the souls of his parents, saving his life once again. Each time the guilt deepened. If only he hadn't been so bloody noble. Hadn't offered to share the win with Cedric.

Suddenly a thought occurred. He'd once overheard a story on the tele of a woman who was diagnosed with cancer and told she had six months left to live. Ten years later she was in complete remission. The interviewer had asked what she had done to prepare for her death and the old woman had simply responded, "Forgive". She forgave her daughter, who'd treated her horribly the previous Christmas, her son, who'd been in and out of jail, her husband, for leaving her, the man who'd stolen her credit cards and destroyed her credit, but most importantly, she forgave herself.

"I just decided that even if the cancer took me, I could still die on my terms," she'd said to the interviewer. "I wanted to die a peaceful death in my sleep. I wanted to proud of my life, live with no regrets. Forgiving others was the easiest, I think, since I could focus on the lives they had yet to live and how they deserved the chance. But then I would think, don't I deserve the chance, too? After all, six months is a lifetime in and of itself. So I sat myself down one day and made a list of everything I regretted and doubted and felt guilty about. And then I went down the list and forgave myself for each thing. And let me tell you, those six months were the best times of my life."

Harry was going to die here, in this miserable, dingy room that had been his prison for so long. Why not do things like the old lady had and die on his own terms? Sitting up, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill and made a list of all the things that bothered him.

1. The Dursleys.

2. 3rd year- escape of Pettigrew.

3. 4th year- Ron

4. 4th year- graveyard

5. 5th year- Snape's pensieve

6. 5th year- failed occlumency

7. 5th year- DOM- injured friends

8. 5th year- DOM- Sirius

9. 5th year- prophecy

Item one was easy. The Dursley's hated magic, were irrationally afraid of it and treated everything associated with it, like him, as "freakish". He couldn't have done anything differently. He'd known that for a long time. As for now, well he couldn't do much locked in his room, but he made a vow that if he somehow made it out he would never return there, blood wards or not. If necessary he would go on the run, but he was done for being punished for something he couldn't control.

Item two also wasn't too bad. He'd rather Pettigrew be free than Sirius be a murderer, and at that point those were his only options.

Onto items three and four. Fourth year had been a particularly hard year, what with the tournament and Ron's abandonment. He had to admit that that still stung. He'd never given his friends any reason to doubt him, and just when he needed them the most, Ron had turned on him. He'd eventually come round, but neither of them had completely forgotten, or at least he hadn't.

But it was over now, and done. Ron realized his error and Harry understood that jealousy and living in the shadow of both him and all his brothers had led Ron to make the decision he did. From now on it was history. They had been friends again for a year and a half, it was time to get over it. Still, there was a little voice that asked "what if he does it again?" Well, if Harry lived to see that, he'd tell Ron how he really felt and find a better friend, one who would stick with him through thick and thin.

Then of course there was Cedric. The graveyard was all his fault. Or was it? How was he supposed to know the cup was a portkey? He had been trying to do the right thing and fate had just flipped him the bird. With both hands. It was awful and sad, but it wasn't his fault that Voldemort was a crazy mass murdering wizard intent on returning from the edge of death.

Harry nodded his head decisively. He was nothing like Voldemort, nothing like him at all, nor was he responsible for ANYTHING that nutter ever did. A small weight lifted off his chest and he took a deep breath, finding the air easier to breath in and fresher than before. After centering himself for a minute, Harry moved to the next item on the list.

The past year had been hell. Pure and utter hell. Every minute of it. The evidence showed in the fact that over half his list consisted of events from the past year. Harry felt like he had aged ten years in the one. It was, to say the least, unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant than occlumency lessons with Snape, and that was saying something. Occlumency. That could have saved both his friends and Sirius. The guilt he felt at not trying harder was incredible. But could he have even done so? He didn't even know how to clear his mind, which were about the only instructions Snape had provided. If he hadn't been taught occlumency, then how was it his fault he didn't learn it? It wasn't.

The pensieve was his fault though. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he was irritated with all the secrets being kept from him. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on! Not in a million years had he imagined he would see what he saw.

His dad was a bully. Snape a victim. He fully understood Snape's anger at his invasion of privacy- he was ashamed. Harry knew that feeling all too well. He'd probably be mortified if it had been the other way around and Snape had seen him being dunked in a toilet or beaten by Dudley and his gang.

Still, it was over and done. He'd tried to apologize but Snape hadn't wanted to hear it. Just assumed that Harry enjoyed it, just like his "precious father". Harry grimaced, then sighed. What did it matter? He'd done something wrong, yes, but he couldn't change it now and he'd done everything he could to make it right. If Snape wanted to believe he was a monster, then that was his choice. Harry was through caring.

Yes, occlumency could have prevented the vision he received, maybe, but it might not have. Maybe Voldemort could have overpowered him or told him some other way. Or maybe he could have found another way to lure Harry and his friends to the DOM. His friends.

He winced remembering the bolt of sickly purple light hitting Hermione in the chest, then clenched his fists determinedly. He'd left the option open but they insisted on going with him, and honestly, he was thankful. He doubted he would have made it out without their help. And he'd trained them all year for a fight in the hopes it would save their lives. Since they all lived through it, he assumed he did something right. So really, he actually helped rather than hurt them.

Harry's eyes moved to the next item on the list and he gulped. Sirius. The one and only man who'd loved him like family. His eyes started to water remembering the red light, Bellatrix's taunt, and Sirius's fall through the veil. This one was still fresh, still painful, still sore. He wasn't sure if the pain would ever go away. The guilt, though, he was hoping he could do something about.

He'd already determined there was nothing he could do about the occlumency and thus the vision. What he'd said about his friends making their own choice applied to Sirius as well. His determination to not feel guilt for anything Voldemort did extended to Voldemort's followers as well, Bellatrix included. Logically, he shouldn't feel the way he did. He knew he wasn't guilty for certain, so why did he still feel this way? Maybe he was just too close to the matter to make a rational decision. But for now he knew the truth and hopefully his feelings would align to match this knowledge eventually.

Nodding firmly, Harry crossed out the list and threw it on the floor. He'd made peace with himself. He was ready, ready for death. At least he could die on his terms. Contentedly he closed his eyes, not expecting to open them ever again.

"Hello? Hello?! Is anybody there?" A feminine voice brought Harry to the edge of consciousness. "Anyone home? We're here for our owl!" The owl- he'd forgotten about it. He may be ready for death, but she wasn't. Groaning, Harry somehow raised himself up and staggered to the window. Glancing out with glazed eyes he located the source of the sound.

In his backyard about ten feet from the house stood two women dressed in muggle clothing that was almost acceptable in this century. The taller one looked to be in her upper thirties and had long blonde hair that hung to her waist. High cheekbones gave her an elegant, almost haughty look, but this was nulled by the existence of smile lines and a spark of life in her sapphire blue eyes.

The younger girl looked to be about Harry's age and was almost a carbon copy of her mother, except she was slighter shorter, about 5'6" compared to her mother's 5'9". That and her face lacked the smile worn appearance of her mother. In fact, it lacked any expression at all. The small part of Harry's brain still working recalled a few students discussing a slytherin girl they called the Ice Queen. This must be her.

"Oh hello there. I'm Evelyn Greengrass and this is my daughter Daphne. We were hoping to find her owl, Athena, here." Athena. At last the injured owl had a name. The triumph he felt gave him new strength and he stood a little taller.

"Hello. I'm H-," He was interrupted by excited chirping and a flutter of wings. "Hey, no! Don't do that, you'll hurt your wing again!" In its excitement the bird tipped over his inkwell, splattering black ink everywhere. "Hold still you blasted bird!" A tinkling laugh drew his attention back to the woman outside.

"You'll have to excuse Athena, I'm afraid she's quite energetic when excited." She grinned at Harry, her eyes dancing with mischief. Daphne's expression didn't change at all. Harry smiled wryly at them.

"So I've noticed," he said dryly. After another laugh he got down to business. "Her right wing's busted. I've been keeping it elevated in a splint but she could probably use some healing potions."

"We can't thank you enough for taking care of her. I shudder to think of what would have happened otherwise." A serious expression crossed her face before the smile was back in full force. "We'll be happy to have her back, and I'm sure you'll appreciate the solitude." He forced a smile.

"Yah." A confused expression flicked across the mother's face, eyes darting to meet her daughters. It was odd that the young man had requested they meet him at the back window instead of the front door, especially since no one seemed home. He also looked rather haggard and pale. Slightly suspicious, Evelyn quickly embraced her slytherin roots and began asking questions that were polite, common, and, if her suspicions were correct, very informative.

"You see, Athena is family to us. Her loss would hurt just as much as losing a parent or sibling," she said, carefully watching his face. Nothing. "Or cousin," she added as an afterthought. Aha- there it was. A flicker of something, she wasn't sure what, crossed his face. It made him look older and bitter.

"I understand," he lied.

"I'm sure you do. After all your lovely home just reflects that a loving family lives here." The same bitter expression crossed his face before it forcefully smoothed out again.

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, dear, please call me Evelyn. Ma'am makes me feel so old." Despite himself Harry smiled. "So how shall we do this? Would you like us to come up, or will you come down?" He stiffened slightly.

"Actually, I was thinking I could just lower her out the window on my sheet and you could catch her." His cheeks tinged red in embarrassment and he sincerely hoped they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"Oh that sounds like too much trouble on your part. It will be much easier for us to come in and get her. She can be quite nasty with the claws otherwise, as I'm sure you know. Now," she continued, leaving no room for him to object, "We'll come up and save you the trouble." By the time she said that she and her daughter were already halfway to the door. "Which door is yours?"

Inside Harry was panicking. They couldn't come in, couldn't see. He may not blame himself for the way the Dursley's treated him, but that didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed about it! After all, he was supposedly the only one who could kill Voldemort but he couldn't even protect himself from three stupid muggles.

"Wait!" But by the time he spoke they were already through the door and didn't seem to have heard him.

Evelyn Greengrass and her daughter shared a look with each other as they stepped inside, pretending not to hear the young man's plea. They had been suspicious since receiving the boys note. Why the back window? Why not the door? They may not know much of muggles, but they did know that wasn't normal.

Discussing possible reasons over dinner the previous night, a common theme had been the idea that James, as the note read, wasn't supposed to have the owl. There were few reasons this should be. Perhaps his relatives were allergic. Or didn't want the mess. Or, as the case seemed to be, they either didn't like magic or didn't like the boy. Either seemed possible here.

Climbing rickety stairs lined with photos, both girls noticed that none seemed to feature James. Standing atop the landing they glanced down the hall at the doors, attempting to locate Harry's room. Suddenly her daughter clenched her fists and pointed.

There. The first door to the right. A strong, mahogany door, polished to a shine, stood tall at the top of the landing. It would have been grand except for the nine various locks and bolts on the outside of the door, all in the locked state. Evelyn felt a sudden flood of fury and cast a wandless Alohamora. Turning the knob, she pushed gently and gasped.

The first thing that hit her was the smell, a combination of unwashed body, blood, and droppings, both owl and human. The next was the furniture. Broken and frail, it seemed foreign in a house so well decorated.

An intake of breath drew her eyes towards the much-too-thin form of James. He stood hunched over, his arms held to his side, trying to make himself appear smaller than his six foot frame. He had a shallow, worn face that seemed to have seen too much for his young years. A mop of black hair, mussed up and standing in all directions, sat on top. Dragging her eyes downwards she took in the rags that she supposed could have passed for clothes ten years ago and felt the fury begin to build inside her.

That soon stopped as her eyes came up to meet emerald green orbs that brimmed with embarrassment, anger, and determination. An odd mixture to say the least. Then her eyes flicked upwards, just a smidge, to a lightning bolt shaped scar and she inhaled sharply.

A small chirp drew her attention away before she could say anything. Her daughter Daphne was examining Athena's wing, and Athena was not appreciating the wait. After a moment she took a flask out of her pocket and placed three drops of an amber liquid in the owl's beak.

Noticing the boy's questioning stare, she said, "It's a special mix of skelegrow and pain relief potion, specifically made for owls. It ought to have her wing all healed up in a few minutes- the break wasn't too bad." He nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at them. Evelyn exchanged a look with her daughter and walked over to coo over Athena, giving the poor boy some space.

After about five minutes Athena hopped up and carefully flexed her wing. Chirping in delight she jumped up and flew around the room, then landed sluggishly. "Careful, you silly bird," Evelyn laughed. "It may be healed but it's not ready to take that much stress yet. You'll have to wait a few days before you go flying outside." Athena glared at her mistress and then turned pleading eyes over to Harry. He quickly held his hands up and backed away.

"I may be young and stupid, but even I know not to argue with a woman." Daphne lips twitched at this and Athena pouted.

"James," Evelyn said carefully, making sure to use the name supplied in his note and not his real one, "we really can't thank you enough for your help. I know you don't want praise or money, but could we perhaps take you out to lunch?" He looked at her, eyes strong and full of longing, before they turned dull and he looked down at the floor.

"I can't leave," he mumbled. Evelyn's brow scrunched up.

"What do you mean, you can't leave?" He struggled for a moment, and Evelyn could see the argument play out across his face. She almost cheered when she saw the outcome and he opened his mouth to tell her.

"I-," suddenly a loud pop was heard and he whipped his head around. On his lawn stood ten wizards in black cloaks and white masks. "Death Eaters," Harry whispered. Adrenalin began to pump through his body and he reached for his wand, only to recall it was locked in the cupboard downstairs.

"Shit," he swore, then spun and went with plan B. "There's too many to fight. You need to get out of here- fast. Since they can apparate in I assume you can apparate out, but you need to go now before they put up anti-apparition wards." Evelyn opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off. "There's no time! Go!"

Nodding she grabbed Athena, stunned her, and put her in a pocket. She then reached for Daphne's hand and Harry turned to look out the window again. It was time. Time to die. A sudden hand on his elbow startled him and suddenly he felt the sickening feeling of being stuffed in a tube and shoved out the other side. This proved to be too much for Harry's weakened body and as the pressure suddenly eased his world went black.