Harry stood in front of a fire in silence, pain cursing through his heart remembering what the war had cost him ; his family, his friends.. all the people he ever loved, all the people he would have happily sacrificed his own life for.

The war had been much worse than everyone could ever imagine. After Dumbledore's death, there was nobody who could defend Hogwarts. Hogwarts fell four months after his death. All the members of the Weasley clan, except Ron and Ginny died in the battle for Hogwarts. The battle was brutal, almost 500 students were murdered.

His friends were killed by Voldemort's own hands, a few weeks again. Voldemort had captured him, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny. He had to watch, when the Death Eaters raped Hermione, Luna and Ginny before they were killed with a Avada kedavra. Ron and Neville were tortured with Crucio, until they also were murdered. He was so angry, he felt such rage. He broke loose. His magic broke loose. He killed Voldemort and his Death Eaters that day. There was nothing left for him only more.

He had saved the world, but there was nobody left. Nobody. Everybody was dead, because he was to weak. If he was better in his studies, if he had studied Occlumency better, if he was just better, he could have changed the outcome for the better. He had nothing left to live for. He was going to kill himself, so he could be with the people which he loved.

He was touching the scars on the chest and arms. The scars he had received from the Durselys and from the war. He followed the lines of the word "FREAK" in his own flesh. He was just a burden and a freak. Nobody will miss him, they would just miss the boy-who-lived. He was tired of that title, he was dying, just as Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans.

He stood up and walked to the circle on the floor. He took his wand out his pants and said the final words 'Avada kedavra' and then he know nothing more. He fell to the ground. Harry Potter was dead.