This is not trying to mock suicide, this is mocking fanfiction about suicide. Suicide is a serious issue and not one I want to make petty.
Harry is depressed and Voldemort just wants to kill him himself.
"I should just end it all-" Harry sobbed, holding the knife to his wrist.
"No no no!" Voldemort shouted, wrestling the blade from his grip. "That's my job!"
"Cedric is dead!" Harry cried, raising the gun to his head.
"Stop it! Just stop it!" Voldemort disarmed Harry and the firearm flew out of his hand.
"S-Sirius is dead!" Harry wailed, pointing his wand at his chest.
"That hasn't even happened yet!" Voldemort yelled in exasperation, disarming Harry yet again. "Why are you so depressed?"
"I love angst. I just love it. I don't know why, but seeing others brought to their lowest points just gives me a warm and happy glow inside." Harry choked out, popping the cork out of a phial of poison.
Voldemort groaned and knocked the glass out of Harry's grasp, letting it shatter on the floor. Then he paused, "Actually, it kind of makes sense-"
"Not you too!-"
"Shut up Wormtail. No really, I mean; you've gone through all kinds of shit. Killed someone at 11, almost died at 12, nearly had your soul sucked out at 13. You should be way more messed up than you are- but that doesn't explain why you keep writing all. These. Damn. Notes!" Voldemort tugged the quill away from Harry, who looked up at the Dark Lord with frantic and haunted eyes.
"Stop it!" Harry yelled, trying to keep hold of his writing implement. "I must write notes! So many notes! More notes! To everyone!"
"No!" Voldemort bellowed, finally taking possession of the quill, causing a hush to fall upon the graveyard. "No more notes! Just stop with the goddamn notes! They are a literary device designed purely to cause sadness and pain. I declare; not any longer!"
Harry looked up with tears in his eyes. "B-but, I love to feel intense emotional death. It helps to clear my feels! Sometimes you just need a good cry-"
"And sometimes you don't!" Voldemort said harshly, snapping the quill in half and turning away in a dramatic swirl of black robes. Harry's haze of depression cleared for a second, just long enough for him to wonder how exactly Voldemort and Snape did that.
Voldemort turned around, only to spot Harry wandering away slowly. "Where are you going?" Voldemort yelled.
"To find a bath tub!"
"Damn it!"
