Harry Potter emerged from his apparition in a nearly completely deserted street, only the dim light of the lamppost next to him providing any substantial lighting at all. The windows of the houses on either side of the street provided a second, albeit much weaker source of light, as did the few cars that passed by him every so often.

Godric's Hollow was every bit as calm and peaceful as Harry remembered it, and it was tough to imagine it had been only a few short months since he and Hermione had last been here, in much different circumstances. That had to have been the low point of the entire Horcrux hunt, having lost all leads and with Hermione accidentally breaking his wand while once more saving his sorry arse.

But Harry wasn't here to reminisce about his past, nor was he here to admire the serenity and beauty of the place. He was here to end his life, and there was one very specific place he had in mind to do just that. He walked through the town with a determined pace, sparing his old destroyed home only a momentary glance as he passed, knowing he was so close to finally being free.

The pain in his soul and the aching of his body drove him on, until at last the graveyard came into view ahead. He pushed his way inside through the kissing gate, releasing a tension-filled breath as he realized he was alone, before making a B-line towards his parent's grave.

He stumbled twice on the way there, the graveyard not illuminated by any lights at all, and by the time he'd reached his destination he felt like his exhausted body was finally starting to give up on him, the adrenalin that had been fuelling him for the entire day having at last ran dry.

The white marble of his parent's grave seemed to almost glow in the dark, and Harry briefly wondered whether there was magic involved in it. He collapsed to his knees in front of the tombstone, tracing the by now familiar words written on the headstone with his eyes. He next reached out with his hand, tracing first his mother's name, before doing the same with his father's.

It didn't matter, he told himself, he'd see them again very soon.

Having no real reason to delay the whole thing anymore, he reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around the vial stashed inside it. Taking the vial out, he once more read the ominous label on its front side, the word 'poison' flanked by twin images of skulls, and despite not knowing what sort of poison was inside Harry trusted it would do the job. And even if it didn't, the poison was his plan C regardless.

His eyes caught something else on the floor beside him as he went to open the vial however, and his eyes widened as they came upon a small wreath of Christmas roses, their petals dried up and half gone, their once vibrant colour having long ago been changed to a dull brown. Harry remembered Hermione making them, and he felt tears sting his eyes as he thought of what his death would do to her.

The poison was still clutched tightly in his hand, but Harry found himself unable to avert his eyes from the wreath or roses, various memories of both his time spent with Hermione, as well as Ron and others flashing through his mind. He imagined them reading the letters he'd written, their grief as they realized what he'd done…

B-but surely, they wouldn't be all that sad, right, he questioned himself shakily, still staring at the flowers. The Weasleys had each other, and it wasn't like he was a part of their family or anything, was he? No, he certainly wasn't, the Weasleys would get over his death. Teddy was too young to understand stuff yet, but Harry was certain his godson would never want to even see the man responsible for the death of his parents.

That left only Hermione, and here Harry did hesitate for real. Because she too, despite being accepted just as warmly as Harry, was not a Weasley. And then there was the fact that she'd sent her parents away, something that was also his fault, and that only really left Ron and him in her life. Was Hermione important enough for him to keep suffering, to keep living, if nothing else then so that she did not suffer more?

The answer was a surprisingly simple yes. Sadly, Harry also knew that with him going crazy, he could not risk Hermione or anybody else's life. For Merlin's sake, he'd nearly killed Ron, and if he was capable of doing that then Hermione certainly wasn't safe either. She would be sad, yes, but Harry was doing this for them, for her, so that they could finally be safe, be happy. All he ever did was drag people down with him.

With one last silent, mental apology to Hermione, he tore his eyes away from the roses, opened the vial and poured its contents down his throat. To say that the stuff was the most wretched tasting thing he'd ever had the displeasure of consuming would have been an understatement, and he'd drank some very disgusting potions before in his life.

In fact, he could barely keep himself from throwing the thing right back up, having to wait with closed eyes and a clenched jaw for a painfully long few seconds before his stomach settled. And considering the fact that he was not yet actively dying, Harry concluded his guess of this being a slowly acting poison had been correct. It was also why it had been his plan C.

The so-called plan C complete, Harry moved directly to his main plan, extracting his wand from his pocket and pointing its tip directly at his heart. He took several deep, shaky breaths as he prepared to cast his final spell, his hands shaking so badly he had to use both of them to keep his wand steady and pointed where he wanted it.

He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and spoke the words.

"Avada Kedavra." He had been told before that being hit with the killing curse was painless, and he'd felt just that when Voldemort had hit him with it in the Forbidden Forest, so as the pounding headache made a reappearance Harry knew the spell had failed.

"Avada Kedavra." He tried again with similar results, his wand not so much as twitching as he started to well and truly lose it.

"Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra!" He all but shouted the last, tears now streaming from his eyes and his entire body shaking in fear and frustration.

"Why won't you work, you stupid fucking thing!" He spat out furiously, pressing the wood against his chest so hard it hurt, "I want to die, you hear me? I want to die! Avada Kedavra!" The wand didn't so much as twitch again, and Harry almost snapped the blasted thing in two.

"Why won't you let me die!?" He knew he had to look like the loon he was, kneeling in the middle of the graveyard while arguing with a piece of wood, but he didn't much care. In the end, he had been abandoned by even his trusty wand, and that fact made him cry even harder. He had never felt as bad as he did just then, and all he wanted was for it to just all stop.

"Fine! Useless thing." He said with gritted teeth, intending to throw the wand away but due to his waning strength, the best he could do was simply let it fall from his grasp. He moved to plan B.

With rapidly deteriorating strength he fished in his other pocket for the Swiss army knife he had pocketed, his fingers barely able to wrap around its length as they found it. He brought the knife out with shaking hands, opening the blade with barely cooperative fingers, before slamming the knife directly into his left wrist.

He could barely feel the pain as he sliced down the length of his forearm, the bright red blood spraying all over the place as he did so. He had intended to do the same to his right arm as well, but as he tried switching the knife to his other hand it slipped from his blood-slickened grasp, and Harry felt way too tired to reach for it again.

Blood spewing from his severed veins and arteries, and with poison mixing into his bloodstream, Harry simply collapsed to the side, his front facing the headstone. The initial spray of blood had coated the white marble, the first part of his mother's name and most of his father's now covered in his life force, and Harry felt shame for desecrating their final resting spot.

Not wishing to look at his blood, his eyes instead drifted to Hermione's flowers, a few stray drops of blood visible on the few remaining petals. It was weird, really, as he'd expected to feel immense pain from the wound and the poison, but the pain really wasn't all that bad. But he did feel cold, so incredibly cold, like he had been stuck naked in a freezer.

He tried reaching out for the flowers with his uninjured hand, but he found himself unable to do even that, his entire body feeling so heavy and stiff. Were his friends already looking for him, he pondered, the dread, or was it perhaps poison, making his stomach turn painfully inside his abdomen.

His eyes widened as he thought of Ron, or more likely, Hermione, finding him here, lifeless, covered in blood from a wound he'd given to himself. He imagined them blaming each other for this, for not doing enough to help him.

And all of a sudden, just as he could feel the last of his strength leaving him, Harry Potter suddenly didn't want to die. His actions all of a sudden seemed so rash, so foolish, so stupid. Surely, surely had he just explained everything to Hermione, they could have found a way to help him that didn't put her or anybody else at risk.

What had he done…

"Harry?!" A loud, shrill screech interrupted his increasingly muddled thoughts, but despite his senses fading fast, Harry would have recognised that voice anywhere. He tried to turn to look at her, but found himself unable to do so much as twitch, the poison working much faster than he'd expected it to. Or maybe it was the blood loss. He next heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, before feeling her drop to her knees next to him.

"No, no, no, no, what have you done?!" The panic in her voice was unmistakable, and Harry groaned in pain as she rolled him to his back. And then his eyes met her frantic-looking brown ones, an expression of pure terror and fear unlike any he'd ever seen on her face before, and Harry started to truly regret what he'd done.

"S-s-sorry." He managed to croak out, his throat feeling like it was made of sandpaper. She was waving her wand around in complex-looking motions, but by now Harry was seriously starting to lose the fight against consciousness.

"Harry, stay with me! Stay with me, please." He could barely even feel it as her hand gripped his own, her skin feeling so cold to the touch, or maybe that was his own.

"Come on, Harry, keep your eyes open. Please, please stay with me. I-I can't lose you. Please." Her desperate pleading seemed like it was coming from a mile away now, as Harry's tired eyes finally closed on their own accord, the pressure on his hand turning painful as they did so.

"No. No, you don't get to leave me like this. Not after everything. Harry! Don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare! Please, Harry. Please!" He could not feel her hot tears as they hit his forehead, nor could he distinguish what she was saying, but as consciousness left him, Harry could feel her hand entwined with his, and it was with that feeling that he let darkness claim him.

For the Weasley family

I do not think I can properly express the depth of my gratitude for all you've done over the past years for me. Back when I was just a scared 11-year-old, left on that train station by my own lonesome, it was your kindness, Mrs Weasley, that even brought me to Hogwarts in the first place. And then across the next few years, you took me in, almost as if I was a genuine part of your family, and I cannot express how much that had meant to me. Still does.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, you have become almost my second parents over the time, and it was always such a relief to know I could always rely on you if I needed something, or if I just needed to talk to you or hear a kind voice. Thank you both, for always believing in me and supporting me through it all.

To Bill, I must say I sort of looked up to you ever since I first saw you when I was still a mere child, but that feeling of admiration only grew over the years. The help you and Fleur provided us with during our Horcrux hunt was instrumental in bringing down Voldemort, and how can I ever forget that time you helped save Hogwarts and my friends from Voldemort's goons after Dumbledore's death.

To Charlie, I must admit we didn't spend as much time together as perhaps we could have, but I will be forever grateful for all you've done in helping the Order and subsequently myself in defeating Voldemort, and of course, I was ever so thankful for you saving my life during the Triwizard tournament.

Thank you all for all you've done for me over the years, thank you for being the family I never had, and know that what I'm about to do has nothing to do with anything any one of you has done.

And lastly, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss, Fred's death should not have happened, and I am beyond saddened and ashamed that I had allowed it. I hope you can one day forgive me.

-Harry.

For George

I am so incredibly sorry, George. If I could go back in time, I would do everything in my power to make sure the whole thing didn't happen as it did. But it did, and I take the blame for it. I am sorry.

Thank you for all you and Fred have done for me over the years, George. Thank you for the map, which has saved mine own and other's lives multiple times. Thank you for the kind words and for the laughs, but most importantly, thank you for always having my back.

Please forgive me.

-Harry.

For Ginny

I must admit that I feel especially ashamed of how I've treated you, Ginny. Yes, my feelings might have changed over the year we were apart, but that did not give me the right to just ignore you after it all ended, nor to leave without ever even explaining my side of the story. I am so terribly sorry for doing that to you, but know that none of it was your fault.

To say that I consider the time we spent together during the end of my 6th year as some of my happiest days on earth would be an accurate assessment. I have been writing this a lot, but thank you for allowing me to experience that, to experience what having a girlfriend was like, to experience the feeling of love.

Additionally, I would also like to thank you for risking your neck for me several times across the years, not the least when you travelled to London with me despite the whole thing being an evident trap. You are a terrific friend, Ginny, a future world-class Quidditch player, and I am sure you will go on to do great things in life, wherever the road takes you.

Thank you for everything.

-Harry.

For Ron

Let me first start with our last time seeing each other. I am so, so sorry for what I've put you through. Ron, I hope you realize that I would never, ever wish to hurt you. Never. But it is clear that I am losing my sanity, has been clear for weeks now, not that that excuses my actions.

When I attacked you, in my mind I saw Voldemort instead of you, and I know how stupid that must sound, but it is the truth. The thought that I came so very close to actually killing my best mate, is in actuality a large part of why I'm about to do what I'm about to do.

You should know that none of this is your fault and that I am truly sorry for causing you such distress, both in attacking you and in this. I know you will think that you should have done something different, but there was truly nothing else you could have done. My mind was set as soon as I realized I was a threat to you and the rest of the people I love.

But let's turn the clock back a moment, shall we?

I don't know if I've ever told you this directly, but you were my first friend, Ron. Like, ever. That day I first met you and Hermione on the Hogwarts Express will forever be one of my best, because somehow, I'd managed to stumble into two of the best people I would ever know.

Your friendship was one of the best things in my life, Ron, and I always treasured it above almost everything else, and I forever will. You stood by me through all those difficult years, you faced dangers and monsters by my side, and you lost so much due to being Harry Potter's friend.

You may have waivered at times, yes, but you always came back when I most needed you, and for that I will be forever grateful. It brings tears to my eyes when I think back on just how much we've achieved together, when I think of all the things we've done. The basilisk, the rat, the stone, the tournament, the ministry, and ultimately the camping trip from hell.

You were there for all of that, and your support, loyalty and incredible sense of humour managed to get me through even the toughest times. I consider you as a sort of brother I never had, Ron, and I know you will do great things in the future, whether that is in Quidditch, or in one of the many other things you excel at.

It has been just such an incredible honour and a privilege to be able to call myself your friend, and I am so incredibly sad that I won't be there to see you thrive. Then again, with me now gone, you will probably have a much easier time of it. Just joking… Maybe.

I wish you and Hermione the best for the future, although you have to promise me that you'll look out for her. That you'll treat her right. But I have no doubts in my mind that you will, because you are one of the kindest and most good-hearted people I have ever known.

Thank you for all the memories and for always having my back. I may not be there anymore, but I hope that once, in the very distant future, we will meet again.

With everlasting gratitude and love,

-Harry.

For Minerva McGonagall

Professor, (may I still call you that?) truthfully, I did not have any intentions of writing this letter, despite all that you have done for me over the years, but since I met you today at Hogwarts, I want to reassure you that nothing you did or said was going to change my mind.

So please, try not to feel guilty, and thank you again for everything. You were always my favourite teacher.

PS: If he decides to finish his education, I would suggest you give Neville the Head Boy position, he deserves it.

-Harry.

For Hermione

Hermione. Writing the other letters had seemed so easy, at least it felt like that to me. Outline the good memories we've had together, apologize, and tell them none of this is their fault. I find writing this letter, to you, unimaginably hard.

Hermione, you may not have been my first friend, but you were certainly my best. The most loyal, the most steadfast, and certainly the one who knew me best. And that is precisely why I think I find writing this all out so hard. Because you above everybody else, deserve an explanation.

I know that what I'm about to do will hit you particularly hard, and I am also aware that I will be hurting you terribly. For the past 7 years, we have really been a team, you and me. You were the only one to never turn your back on me, and I am sure this will feel like a betrayal to you. But I can assure you that I am not doing this on a mere whim, but as the last possible resort.

I am desperate, I am tired, I am in immense pain, and all I want is for it all to end.

I must be honest now and admit that I had known immediately after the final battle that I was not okay, and that things were about to go downhill. But not even in my wildest of dreams could I have imagined just how bad things would get. And trust me Hermione, things are bad.

The nightmares, those I could handle, have been handling them for years, after all. The lack of sleep that followed was an unfortunate consequence, but I could deal with that rather easily as well. The complete breakdowns that followed were less easily handled, as not only did they happen at seemingly random times, but they completely paralyzed my daily life.

During the breakdowns, I could not breathe properly, I was shaking like a pathetic leaf, and I just generally felt awful. And not only were they slowly but surely getting worse, but they started appearing more often the more time passed. But even those, despite how utterly awful they were, I could somehow handle.

Then my mind snapped. I wish there was a more technical term I could use for you, but that is how it feels like for me. All of a sudden, I was no longer myself. I was seeing things, Hermione, things that I knew in my heart could not be true, but they nonetheless felt completely real, and Merlin did they suck.

You will be pleased (probably not) to know I had not in fact been renovating the last time we met, but was in fact fighting a desperate battle against a made-up Voldemort. I know you must think me crazy by now, and you wouldn't be wrong in that assessment, but the whole vision-thing really felt so real, so vivid, that I resorted to trying to blast him with Bombardas.

These complete mind breaks for a lack of a better term, made my already fragile situation completely fall apart. I was in pain constantly, I was so incredibly tired, and now I was seeing things that I logically knew weren't really happening. But even then, I was determined to push on, if for nothing else then out of pure spite. Harry Potter did not give up.

And then the whole situation with Ron occurred.

The fact that I thought I was once more fighting Voldemort did not matter to me, because I nearly killed my best mate. I don't know how much he will tell you, but I truly would have killed him had Kreacher not protected him. I would have killed my best mate, Hermione. And it was at that point that I knew this could not go on. I could take the pain, but I could not take the possibility of hurting any of the people I love.

So, please, please, do not think of what I'm about to do as something rash, or selfish.

You may next ask, why didn't I come to you or anybody else for help. I know you would have dropped everything to help me, as would Ron and many other people. But I feel like I've already taken so much from you two especially, and I simply could not put you through more suffering on my behalf however much I wanted to.

I am not a child anymore, and I could not go through life by holding on to your and Ron's hands. You have lives of your own, together, without me in the way to ruin things again. The stuff you went through over the years, Hermione, was truly awful, and I simply cannot continue to put you through such horrible things. You deserve to be happy, and I know that would not happen if you were forced to look after my sorry arse again. Not to mention I could hurt you, and if I did that, I could never forgive myself.

In most of the other letters I went through the fondest memories I had with them, but it almost feels redundant to write something like that to you. You were there for them all after all, standing right beside me, and giving me the strength I needed to eventually overcome them. I don't think you realize just how much your constant support has meant to me, how much you mean to me.

I distinctly remember that one evening in late December, it honestly could have even been close to Christmas itself, when we were at one of our lowest points in the hunt, alone, cold and with no clues to go on, and where we just spent the entire day sitting side by side under a blanket in the tent. With you there I didn't feel alone anymore, your warmth chased away the cold, and your positivity gave me strength. I would not have been able to do anything I did without you.

Since this letter is getting absurdly long, let me just finish off by thanking you for one last time. Thank you for everything, Hermione, for all the small things like reassuring me when I was feeling down, and all the big things, like standing with me to the end. You really are the best friend I could have ever made, and I love you so very much.

I am sorry, but this is where our paths diverge. (look at me, using fancy words) I know you will do great things in the future, and the world is going to be a much better place once you infuse it with your kindness and positivity. This is not a final goodbye Hermione, since I will be waiting to meet you in the very, very distant future, on the other side. Until then, with everlasting love,

-Harry.