Harry looked miserably around the room and found it ironic that the only person who didn't seem to be enjoying the party was him. Ever since he was a little boy, watching the guests arrive for one of Dudley's birthday parties, all he'd ever wanted was a proper birthday. Presents stacked to the ceiling, room filled to the brim with friends and family, and a cake with his name on it lit with candles, and a room singing to celebrate his birth. Now, he felt, he'd give it all up just for one moment with his godfather.

"Hey, boy, come here." Moody's growling voice beckoned. He was standing in the corner of the room next to the pile of presents, his magical eye scanning the room rapidly.

Harry sighed and went to see what Moody wanted.

Moody gave him an appraising look, "Bet I know what's on your mind. And I've got something here for you." Moody grabbed one of the presents piled on the corner table, "I wanted to give this to you in private, but this will have to do." He handed the poorly wrapped present to Harry and walked off towards the refreshment table.

Harry wondered what his old DADA teacher had got him for his birthday. Probably something to help him fight the dark arts, like a Foe-Glass or something equally useless like that. Harry tore the wrapping from the package and was surprised to find a leather photo album with his name engraved on the front in gold lettering.

Harry opened the album to the first page where he saw his parents smiling and waving at their wedding reception. Below that they were flying on broomsticks, and beside that his father was playing quidditch with Sirius, Remus and, to Harry's disgust, Wormtail. James flew up the pitch and put the Quaffle through the hoop, punching the air with his fist in celebration of the goal. James did mock bows to his invisible audience and Sirius hit a bludger in at him forcing him to hang upside down on his broomstick. In the next picture James, on broomstick, had caught Sirius in a headlock and was messing up his hair.

Harry laughed, a small tear trailing down his face. He turned the page and saw his mother and father sitting under a tree by the lake. Behind them Sirius was creeping up with a water balloon. In the next frame a thoroughly soaked James was drowning Sirius in the lake. Harry was soon overcome with emotion. It was all his fault! All these smiling, happy, wonderful, talented people were dead because of him. He let the album slip through his fingers and fall to the floor.

Harry exited from the room, running up the stairs and into the bathroom to wash the tears from his face. Harry slammed the bathroom door shut behind him and locked it. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub and let all the turmoil and guilt bubble up inside him. His face was now leaking disgustingly and he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jumper. Looking at the sink and mirror in front of him Harry's eye caught sight of the glinting metal of Ron's shaving kit.

With no real conscious thought of what he was going to do Harry grabbed the kit and climbed into the bathtub, Harry could feel the hard wood of his wand sticking out of his back pocket as he sat down in the cold steel tub. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater Harry's heart started pounding erratically in his chest. His tears were now so uncontrollable he had to blink every few seconds in order to clear his vision. Wiping his nose in the elbow of his sweater one last time Harry thought of the last time he spoke to Sirius and how he would be with him once again.

Harry pressed the razor to the flesh on his wrist and felt the cold metal bite and pinch as he dragged it across. Dark red blood began to leak profusely from his left wrist as transferred the blade form one hand to the other. Pressing more deeply and cutting more quickly this time Harry parted the flesh of his other wrist. As Harry watched the life drip from his body he felt something close to relief.

Deciding at the last moment that he should leave some kind of note for the ones that found him Harry transferred the blade back to his right hand. He rolled up the pant leg of his eight sizes too large pants and cut into his flesh. The razor bit and pinched at his skin as he left his final good-byes scribbled upon his flesh.

Lying back in the tub Harry began to feel light headed and remembered, or perhaps dreamed, of happier days. Days spent in Godric's Hollow with his parents and a tall handsome man that couldn't stop picking him up and throwing him in the air. Higher and higher he went, nearly brushing his head on the ceiling then cradled as he was caught.

Molly noticed the party starting to drag on a bit and decided that it was time to open presents, "Gather round everyone, its present time! Harry! Harry dear, it's time to open your presents." Molly peered anxiously around the room hoping to get a glimpse of the messy, raven haired boy.

Hermione searched anxiously around the room hoping that Harry hadn't abandoned his party again, people might start getting offended.

"Not to worry, Molly, I'll give a quick look for him," Moody growled as his electric blue eye scanned the crowd and then the house for a sign of the boy. "Oh, I see him. Looks like he's upstairs taking a bath..." Moody's jaw dropped, "Dumbledore you better get up there now!" Moody yelled, making half the room jump.

Dumbledore and Moody started quickly up the stairs, "What is it Moody?" Dumbledore asked.

"Let's just say I haven't known many people who take baths with their clothes on" Moody grumbled.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in horror and he began to climb the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bathroom door it burst open with a loud crashing noise that could be heard all the way downstairs. The tile surrounding the bathtub was spattered with Harry's blood, smears of it along the rim of the tub and on the blade that now lay on the outer edge next to Hermione's shampoo. Dumbledore entered the room and knelt beside the tub, taking Harry's pulse.

Harry's eyes were wide and glassy, his lips light blue, his skin sweaty and white, his limbs still and lifeless, but he had a pulse. It was faint, like a birds feathers beating lightly against the walls of its cage.

Arthur, Molly, Hermione, Ron and an entire room full of spectators gathered around the door. Hermione took one look at the glassy eyed, would be corpse of her best friend and hid her face in Ron's chest. Somewhere in the distance Ginny screamed and Molly tried to shield her daughter's eyes. Ron, who could only stare horrorstruck at the scene in front of him, was the first to see it, carved into the flesh of his best friend's leg, just a few words and that in blood, 'The boy who lived no longer.'