"Cho?" Harry asked. He was chasing her down the halls on a cold Saturday afternoon in November. Why is she being like this? Why won't she talk to me? Harry thought. "Cho? Cho stop please! I need to talk to you." But she just kept walking. Harry lost her in a large crowd. He gave up and turned away from the group. Why is she like this? he thought. I month ago she wanted to be with me every day. Now she runs away from me. Harry looked up and noticed that he had walked onto the seventh floor, and the door to the Room of Requirement was in front of him. He opened it and walked inside. "Hello?" No one answered. The room was quiet and warm. There was a very large bed in the middle of it. Harry looked at the bed. I guess this is what I want, Harry thought. He climbed into the bed and immediately fell asleep.
When he woke up, the room looked the same. He turned onto his side and looked at the fire. There was something in the fire... someone's face... Harry sat up and looked harder. It looked a lot like... no you're seeing things it can't be... Harry shook his head and looked back at the fire. The face was gone. I am seeing things, Harry thought. He lied back down and closed his eyes. Why does everything end up like this? he thought. Why couldn't it have been me, Dumbledore, anyone except Sirius. The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that Sirius had been his way into the adult world, his information and support. And now he's dead because of me. His thoughts turned to the prophecy. Voldemort only killed my parents because he was after me, and they were in his way. Wow I must be on some kind of killing streak. Pretty soon everyone will be dead. And then it will just be me and Voldemort, and then I'll die so it will only be Voldemort... that's great I was put on this earth to kill and then be killed... great just great. Harry looked into the fire again. Why is Cho so distant? Why is everyone so distant? Is there something I don't know about? Well knowing what happened last year... oh Harry there's been this group that's been following you for like ever and the teacher who predicts your death actually did predict it once... last year no one had told him anything. It's my life! I should at least know what's going on. And now it's happening again. Even Ginny has stopped talking to me. Harry sighed. What is going on? All I want is to know what's happening and to have some one to talk about it with... I used to have that. Ron and Hermione used to listen to me all the time. But not anymore. They're too busy with each other to even care. Why are they doing this? Harry glanced at the clock that was hanging above the fire. It was already eight o'clock. He wondered if anyone was looking for him... if anyone cared... he felt tears running down his face. Stop it, he told himself. You're not supposed to cry... boys aren't supposed to cry. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the bed. Stop it, he told himself again. He whipped his tears away. Stop it already. He walked out of the room and back to the common room.

Harry walked into the common room. He tried to walk quickly and quietly so that he wouldn't be noticed. He snuck into his dormitory and sat down on his cold bed. Ron came bursting into the room. "Where were you?" he asked
"What?"
"We had practice tonight and you didn't come."
"Oh... sorry I forgot."
"You can't keep forgetting all of the time! We need practice if we're going to win the cup this year."
"I don't care about quidditch." Harry muttered
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You don't care? Then why are you on the team?"
"Good question." Harry said
"If you're going to have this kind of attitude about winning then -"
"Ron I don't care about winning!" Harry screamed. "I don't care about winning and I don't care about quidditch!"
"Then why are you wasting your time on the team?" Ron asked
"Because I used to like to play... until this year. Funny... I thought what's really going on in my life mattered more to you than if we win or not... guess I was wrong." Harry got up and left the room.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked
"To tell McGonagall that I quit." Harry said. He had only gotten three feet away from the Fat Lady when Ron came running out.
"Harry wait! Listen I... I don't want you to quit. I just... I dunno. I don't know what's been wrong with me lately. Geeze you must hate me after all I've put you through." Harry didn't answer. Instead he kept walking. But he wasn't going to McGonagall. He just wanted to be alone, to have some time to think. He walked out onto the quidditch pitch and sat in the stands. He remembered how fun quidditch had been. Now it wasn't fun anymore. Nothing was. When I was a first, second, and third year, everything had been fun. Nothing was serious. Even Fluffy didn't seem that scary anymore. That's when this all started... this whole I must be heroic thing... Why do I even care if other people die? Why am I always saving the day? He sighed and wished he had someone to ask all of this... someone to talk to... but you killed him, remember?