Dear Potter

Harry's Gone

The clock ticked midnight and all those awake smiled. It was a lovely sound to them. Peaceful even. Reminded them they were home. Hermione was reading Hogwarts a History per usual and Ron was watching her while sipping on butterbeer. The prefects finished their rounds about an hour ago and they were able to relax a bit. No one knew their beloved savior threw himself off the astronomy tower.

Five minutes before Harry sat there thinking over everything. He was tired, so tired. He was the boy who lived, Gryffindor prince, youngest seeker of the century, golden boy, the savior. He was expected to be perfect. He wasn't to speak of his detentions with Umbridge. He was not allowed to speak about the abuse he faces at the Durselys.

Most importantly, he isn't allowed to speak about how he wishes it wasn't him. As much as he loves Neville, he can see the slight jealousy that Neville carries around when people talk about Harry. He knows Neville wishes it was him. Neville wants the fame. Everyone around him sees him as a coward so why couldn't it have been him.

Harry too wishes it was Neville. He wishes Neville could carry the problems of the wizarding world on his shoulders rather than Harry. Harry wishes it was Neville because Neville could handle it. Neville had true Gryffindor bravery that Harry lacked. He couldn't stand up to the Dursleys when they beat him black and blue. He couldn't when they starved him. He couldn't when Dumbledore told him he was the only way to stop Voldemort.

Harry was a child. He was a baby when he got rid of Voldemort the first time. He was a child when he learned of the Wizarding world. He was a child and he was nearly killed three times each school year. He was a child when Voldemort himself came back and tortured him right after his servant who betrayed Harry's parents, killed Cedric, his friend.

Harry couldn't help but blame himself. If he died when he was a baby, nothing would have happened. Cedric would still be here for Cho and the rest of the Hufflepuffs. It was Harry's blood that brought Voldemort back. If Harry died, that wouldn't have been possible.

He knew there were more deaths to come and it was all his fault. He didn't want that. Voldemort only wanted Harry so if Harry died everyone would be safe. If Harry died Ron and Hermione would be happier. Everyone would be happier without him. All he does is cause problems. Cedric would still be here if only he took the cup. Harry would've died instead.

So Harry grabbed his blade and slit his wrists. He went deeper and deeper each time. It felt amazing. He deserved all this after everything he caused. He was the reason for his parent's deaths and Cedric's death. He deserved this. He cut and cut until he was dizzy. He shakily stood on the railing and jumped.

Harry Potter was found dead at 8:47 am