His death
Harry POV
When I woke up, no one was in the room. I hurried to get dressed and ran through the empty hallways to the Dining Hall. Everyone was in there looking at something on the floor, some people were crying, some staring in silent shock as Dumbledore and Professor Snape examined this thing.
I moved and saw a puddle of red on the floor. Right away I knew that it was Ron they were looking at. I pushed to make my way through the crowd. I had scarily entered it than a path split through to Ron. I saw him, blood dribbling from his wrists where there were deep slits. Ron wanted to die. I felt tears fall down my face. Had I lost another friend? The puddle of blood around Ron made me feel sick. He was dead; he couldn't survive that much blood loss.
Soon Dumbledore and Snape lifted Ron onto a stretcher they conjured up out of thin air. They carried him to the school informatory and Madame Pomfrey hurried to his side.
"The poor dear," she cried, "he must have felt so alone."
Sadly, I had to agree. Hermione had left him, and through his own jealousy he had lost me too. There was no way to make it up to him. Dumbledore was right; I did lose another friend to death. Both times was my fault. If I had just joined Voldemort than Hermione wouldn't have died and if I hadn't been so stuck up and stubborn than Ron wouldn't have killed himself.
I was beside myself with worry about what was going to happen to me without my friends. Suddenly I fell, and everything went black.
