I don't own Harry Potter, so please let me know what you think.
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If you can't win, then don't bother fighting?
Harry had long since known how fantastic a resource the Room of Requirement was ever since he had discovered it in his second year after he had needed to find a place to escape from the students baying for his blood when it was discovered he could speak parseltongue. The House Elves had been purely neutral and their natural innocence had been extremely reassuring for him. Harry had asked them where he could train and have a place to stay, and then they took him to the Room of Requirement's corridor and taught him how to get in and how to use it, and since then Harry had made full use of it.
Thanks to the Room, Harry had become an extremely skilled wizard although he had needed to keep his abilities hidden. The Room of Requirement was a phenomenal place, and through it, Harry could summon ancient books and scrolls on a myriad of subjects such as transfiguration and runes all while he had hidden them so then Dumbledore and his lackeys could never discover the truth. But Dumbledore was now dead and Harry had to deal with the final problem the old wizard had left him with.
The destruction of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes.
It was not a task he relished. In fact, ever since he had learnt Voldemort had survived all these years since that horrible night when he had murdered Harry's parents, he had decided to become a powerful wizard in the hopes of living. Unlike the stupid crap people like Skeeter, Scrimgeour, Dumbledore and Ginny Weasley liked to spout and believe, Harry didn't want to be a chosen one. He didn't want to kill anyone although he knew a great deal about magic, and it was all down to the Room of Requirement where he had gained access to numerous books on different forms of curses and defensive and offensive magic containing ancient spells that many modern wizards would be hard-pressed to deal with although wizards like Voldemort and Dumbledore likely knew about them.
Harry was disappointed by the wizarding world. They had allowed so much of their knowledge to just slip through the cracks and vanish until they had virtually disappeared into the aether. It was only thanks to old antique book collectors and libraries that knowledge survived, but so many ignored it. Many of those same books had been summoned by Harry over the last few years, the number of them had just grown and grown. In his fifth year, Harry had done his best to teach several of the Hogwarts students to defend themselves.
Hogwarts was pathetic.
The DADA position was cursed to the point of no return and yet Dumbledore hadn't tried to stop it from acting on any unfortunate soul who took up the post. He had read enough books on curses to know that hexes placed on positions like a teaching job could easily be overcome. Dumbledore wasn't stupid. He likely had such knowledge, but it was like he was trying to keep anyone from becoming smarter than him. Perhaps he was. The idea made a lot of sense, like why the lessons in Hogwarts were considered elementary level by other magical schools' standards. In many ways, the damage Snape had done to potions and the lack of a permanent DADA teacher had done wonders if that was Dumbledore's scheme; how else could he be called the greatest wizard in Britain if there was someone else waiting to challenge him?
But in his sixth year, Harry had made full use of the Room, learning about the Horcruxes of Lord Voldemort, how to detect them and how to destroy them. Dumbledore had given him the clue, that was the only reason why Harry had cooperated with the ancient wizard for an entire year, even if his lessons had been unimaginably useless in the long run, and the less said about that stupid business with Slughorn although Harry had gladly taken it from the potion teacher's mind although it had sickened him Slughorn had sat on the knowledge he had given Voldemort such a terrible priceless gift as knowledge of Horcruxes. And he had done nothing about it.
That was one of the qualities that Harry had come to hate about the magical world, really; they were really good of creating monsters and wars which caused terrific pain and sorrow and relying on others to clean up the mess while they sat back and did nothing to help. Voldemort was the latest example, and not only was Dumbledore responsible for letting the evil wizard's actions from getting out of hand while the Ministry didn't raise a finger, and now Harry had learnt not only had Slughorn given Voldemort such knowledge, but he had sat on it for years without a care.
When he had confronted Slughorn, Harry had made it clear to him that he was sick and tired of playing games, that he was fed up with older generations destroying lives and not bothering to pay the price themselves.
He had given Slughorn the choice; either he gives the memory, or he tore it out.
Slughorn had given the memory freely. Harry had taken it although he was furious with the way Dumbledore had given him the task without once doing anything himself. For months. No, years.
For Harry, it was another grain of truth. Dumbledore was too soft. He was too happy to play the long game, waiting for others to come to him without thinking, maybe, just perhaps, they didn't want to come to him out of some stupid sense of morality.
The other pieces of truth…
Dumbledore never went out of his way to attack the Death Eaters, preferring instead they come and attack muggles or magical districts without caring about the grief.
Dumbledore let the Death Eaters pull the strings in the Ministry, not even once trying to stop it.
Dumbledore stopped the aurors and the Order from killing them.
And now, Dumbledore was prepared to let people die by wasting huge amounts of time showing people useless memories and playing games. Harry hadn't been prepared to wait that long. The moment he had learnt Voldemort had created Horcruxes, he had gotten to the Room as soon as he could, and he gathered all the information he could, and he was pleased he had. Dumbledore had not taught him anything of use, and now he was expected to find the Horcruxes on some insane hunt that he was purposefully ill-equipped for. Or so Dumbledore assumed.
But the old fool had no idea that Harry had no intention of going on the hunt, the same hunt Ron and Hermione kept talking about but what he hadn't told them about. Honestly, those two spies really did need to think first instead of talking all of the time. Harry wasn't stupid, he knew that Ron and Hermione were spying on him for Dumbledore; he had suspected it in his first year, gathered confirmation in the second, and it wasn't until he collected the Marauder's Map in his third year that he saw them both going to Dumbledore's office.
While Dumbledore's lessons were boring, Harry had learnt enough to have some ideas of where Voldemort had his Horcruxes, but he had a secret weapon.
He had figured it out.
He knew he had a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head. And tonight, he was going to end it all.
As he stepped away from the funeral crowd, Harry ignored everyone else and he made his way around the grounds of the school, casting a disillusionment charm on himself so he could just be left alone. Heading into a clearing which he quickly warded, Harry prepared himself. This was complex magic and he didn't want anything to spoil it. Taking a deep breath, Harry pressed his wand directly in the centre of his scar, and he started chanting in Ancient Egyptian.
Horcruxes had been around for centuries as a means of immortality. Harry had known for years Voldemort had been digging deep into the depths of magic, going further than others, so it made sense he would have discovered such a form of magic, but much of the knowledge was so obscure it was almost impossible to find without a Room of Requirement. Harry didn't know for sure if Voldemort had discovered the Room and used its resources to discover the Horcruxes, after learning about the specifics from Slughorn. It was possible, but at the same time, he would have learnt from the room about the drawbacks of the Horcruxes. They didn't work. A Horcrux merely shortened a human lifespan, and since Voldemort had split his soul many times…
Anyway, he doubted it very much Voldemort hadn't found the Room and he had learnt about the Horcruxes from there. If he had then he would never have used them, no matter how desperate he was. But it didn't matter now. He was going to end it all now. Harry had learnt his scar was a Horcrux, because, after a painful twinge in his scar, Harry finally realised what the scar in his forehead was and after he had discovered the soul piece inside it. He had discovered the Horcrux in his scar two weeks after the Horcrux hunt for the locket. He had wrung himself with indecision for days, wondering what he should do although he knew he had to destroy it now he had one, he had decided to gloat to Dumbledore about the truth or he would do it far from Dumbledore's control and use it to spite the old man.
But now he just wanted the war over.
Harry closed his eyes, still chanting before he felt a searing pain in his scar. In his mind, he could hear the screams of Voldemort and the other Horcruxes as well as the Death Eaters bound to Voldemort. The spell the Egyptians used drained the Horcruxes of their magic and they took the magic of anyone connected to the creator of the Horcruxes like water spiralling down a drain.
Finally, the Horcrux in his scar gave a terrific scream and it was gone. Harry took a deep breath and he walked back out of the clearing, recasting the disillusionment charm and he headed for the ward line of the castle, heading for the village. When he got there, he went into the Three Broomsticks and he cast several spells to stop anyone from stopping him. All of his affairs were in order, now it was time for him to enjoy life somewhere else and where he would no longer be bothered.
A few weeks later, Harry was walking along a beautiful Caribbean beach, thinking about how well life was going. He had already applied for a college in America, a muggle college where he would be studying a myriad of subjects. He had spent years keeping up his studies in the muggle world since he had started at Hogwarts, and he had done so in secret. Indeed, during his second and fourth years, he had been so tempted to leave and return there, prepared to throw away his heritage as a wizard just to be left alone. But now he was about to openly go into higher education, opting to go to America to escape Britain. There was nothing there for him. He hadn't heard from his so-called friends since he had cast a spell to stop them from tracking him down. He didn't care what they did with their lives and he didn't care how they took the unexpected deaths of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. If they wanted to run their society into the ground, he'd let them.
Harry shrugged and sipped from his glass of rum. It was really good, rich and came with a nice kick to it, and he just enjoyed the sunset. He was young, and he had the whole world in front of him.
Plenty of time to plan out his future later.