A/N Trigger Warning Suicide Please do not read if this affects you.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that resembles J. K. Rowling works
A Black Train at Kings Station
"Tucked away in northwestern London, a twenty-minute walk from King's Cross Station, lies number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Both Unplottable and hidden behind a Fidelius Charm, the house is invisible to all but a few. Though the neighboring Muggles don't even know the building exists, it was for many years home to the Black family — one of the wizarding world's oldest pureblood families, and extremely proud to be so."
Harry at first had hated this place, it had the ultimate prison for his GodFather, the place Sirius wanted to run away from. But the house had grown on him with all the media flies swarming around him anytime he went out in public. The unplottable house became his refuge from the outside world.
Only Hermione and Molly Weasley still had access to the place, Molly was still like a second mother to him at least once a week she would come over and bring groceries. Harry could hear her now in the kitchen preparing breakfast for him and Hermione, He finished loading up his trunk and cast the feather-light charm, and proceeded down the stairs.
Entering the kitchen Harry saw Mrs. Weasley managing four pans on top of the oven, the smell of coffee brought his attention to Hermione who was sitting at the table sipping a to-go cup from a new coffee place Harry vaguely recalled the company was apparently too expensive for what the offer. Hermione looked up at him smiling, "Good morning Harry! I brought you a cappuccino."
"Where would I be without you?" He said taking the cup
"Oh, Harry you are the strongest person I know," Hermione spoke with confidence not knowing how wrong she was.
Harry decided that there's nothing tragically beautiful about depression. It's not sad songs. It's not ghostly white skin tainted by charcoal circles under sad eyes and large purple bruises stretching viciously up your arms. It isn't lonely walks, vacant coffee shops, or smoking dusty cigarettes.
Depression is unwashed clothes and flaking skin. It's overheating and the inability to even get out of bed. It's giving up on yourself and not taking pride in your appearance anymore. It's empty inboxes, bursts of anger, and late-night tears. A feeling of disgust within yourself makes you want to tear off your skin just so you can feel clean. It's uncertainty and confusion. It's losing weight, long showers, and greasy hair. It's constantly wishing you could be somewhere or someone else. It's losing the will to even live.
Mrs. Weasley turned around from the stovetop "Harry, good your awake breakfast is just about done."
Harry and Hermione settled next to each other as plates heaped over with food drifted over them.
The emptiness is always there; Harry considers himself decent at hiding it, masking it with normal human emotions. No one is going to ask him why he's smiling. It hides everywhere, this emptiness, in the closet, the cupboards. There isn't any getting away from it. His nightmares seem to help fill it, They remind him of my childhood like the emptiness is the monster in the cupboard. He feels so fucking scared of it, but he needs it.
Eating the consistently delicious food almost as a last meal, which ironically enough it was not that knew it. The poison fill laid empty in his pocket, Widows Wail was a rather painless way to die. Checking the watch that he got on his 17 birthday "One Hour Left, then no more fighting."
Standing up from the table and putting his dish in the sink a sudden item on his list that he had not done popped into his mind.
"Kreacher" He called
"Master calls Kreacher, how can Kreacher serve the Master?" Kreacher croaked out.
Harry had to admit the old elf had grown on him and did not what him to suffer the death of another master.
"Kreacher, Molly Weasley a proper witch is now your Mistress, serve as well as you have served me." He ordered turning to Mrs. Weasley "This a thank you for all you and your family have done for me."
crossed the kitchen and engulfed him in a warm hug "I will miss these" He thought,
"You wonderful boy, Thank you" With that she let him go, Harry saw Hermione thinking a knew he had to move before she could follow her train of thought. Disapperating from the House with his trunk he landed in front of the Tonk's Residence. He could see through the window Andromeda feeding Teddy a bottle, thinking of what could have been but he was not the right person to raise a human being, leaving the trunk with a Cloak and Map on the steps with a letter, and walked away.
His last final stop was the Forbidden Forrest where he had held the stone and walked to his death once seemed fitting for his final death to be here as well. Taking out the Elder Wand twirling it in his hands a few times before snapping it into two pieces, "Now if someone wants to wage another war will have to do it without the Death Stick." Sitting under a large shade tree Harry put the Resurrection stone back into the Golden Snitch and watched as it flew away deep into the forest. A lone Threstral entered the clearing watching Harry as if it knew what was about to happen. Harry chuckled and smiled at the animal at least he had a friendly face around, Checking his watch he counted down 5…4…3…2…1.
His body would not be found and the Wizarding World mourned for some time the media would write countless articles guessing what Harry was doing but none would ever get it right that would fade shortly and after a few years, a massive funeral would be held and a nation would mourn a false image of himself but soon after he was only mentioned when Hogwarts Kid traded away his Chocolate Frog Card claiming that he had three already.