He had always known his life was always going to end like this, standing at the edge of a ledge with no one but himself to lean on. Maybe a bridge or tower, if he was lucky enough somewhere no one would see the aftermath. Luck never had been on his side.
It would always be him and the night sky, him and his thoughts, a blade, and no one to care if he made it out.
He had tried to be the person people wanted to be around. The one who laughs at all the right moments always has a witty comment on the tip of his tongue and a smile that is impossible to ignore.
He never could quite master the act
It was inevitable he wouldn't make it past seventeen, cursed by the mistakes of those who came before him. There was never any hope for him to make it out alive with the prophecy made about him, and the Dark Lord after him.
It was just him and a clock ticking down to his untimely death. Sure, he could try and beat Voldemort or run away and start a new life instead of where he was now but there wasn't any point. In a way, he was running away, after all this night was going to be his last.
How did everyone expect him to do what hundreds before him were unable to do? Kill the dark lord, the greatest wizard except for Merlin himself. Dumbledore always liked to say it was him, but he was wrong. All he is is a coward who uses those who he has power over to do his dirty work for him.
It was a joke
Harry was always expected to do the right and noble thing for the greater good of the world. To put everyone’s needs above his own since all he is, is an orphan, a nobody, an unwanted soul. To give everything for a world that has taken everything from him, and ruined any chance of anything good in his life.
Now he wasn’t completely heartless he would do one last thing for the wizarding world, and then he was done. He would kill himself in turn killing the Horcrux inside of him. Why should he wait for Dumbledore or Voldemort to decide it's time for him to die when he was always going to either way?
He was finally going to do something for himself without anyone telling him he was selfish or a bad person for even thinking about doing it. Dumbledore could figure out how to destroy the rest of the Horcruxes by himself.
If he expected a sixteen-year-old to be able to do it how hard can it be? Let's see how he likes being left to deal with everything by himself with no warning and no choice. To be thrown into life-or-death situations and be expected to make it out with a smile on your face.
That's why he stands where he is now, at the top of the astronomy tower blade in hand. It was the night before everyone left for winter break to see their loved ones.
To go home
Snow was falling and the sky was scattered with stars. He knew he should feel cold since all he was wearing were trousers and a short-sleeved top but he didn't. He has long since lost the ability to feel much of anything.
Anyways even if he could his body is covered head to toe with scars, burns, lacerations, and bruises from years of abuse and borderline torture if you ask him(but no one ever did) what's a bit more pain?
In the end, there was no one to blame for this but himself. He never did anything to stop what was being done to him by his relatives. If anything he only made his situation worse by adding to the damage with the cuts on his thighs and wrists almost solely being from his own hand. The malnutrition he is faced with only being worsened by his unwillingness to eat when he was allowed.
At least he never had to hide the scars or bruises since no one noticed, he almost wished they had. That someone would have cared enough about him to notice and ask questions. To be mad for his sake at every bad thing that had ever happened to him, not because they wanted something from him in return.
He wanted someone to beg him not to pick his blade back up, to cry with him when he inevitably did. He wanted to know someone loved him without the words ever being said. Maybe then he wouldn't be standing at the edge of this tower, his only company being the stars.
No one paid attention to him besides when he was playing the savior, the golden boy of Gryffindor.
Maybe in another life, he would have had someone who cared about him or a loving family to protect him from the hurt of the world. But in this lifetime, he had none of that. Nothing he could have done would have changed his fate. Why had he bothered trying?
In this life, he hadn't made a home for himself that was filled with people and things that would make living worth it. He never dated anyone or even kissed someone, and he never made any friends who would pick him out of a room filled with people. He never found someone who treated him like part of their family or thought of him like a son.
He was nobody's son
Maybe that hurt the most. It was the one thing that should have been a given, something everyone has, by blood or choice. Yet he didn't.
Everyone always told him how similar to James he was or how he had Lily's eyes. All this caused was more hurt, a constant reminder of what he lost. He never knew either of them and wishing he had wouldn't bring them back so what was the point? All he had was himself and that was okay, solitude grows on you especially if it is all you ever have known.
The stars reminded him of all the people before him who had stood on this very same tower, thinking the same thoughts as him. All the people who like him have found comfort in all those who have been through the same as them years ago and who will continue to years from now. He is just another person who will soon lose the battle with himself.
Another cautionary tale or tragedy, a star that burned too bright.
No one cares until it's too late until you're just a picture in the paper. It's not until you're gone that people who were supposed to be there for you come around and say how you were such a good person.
Someone who did no wrong and how upset they are that you're gone. How they wish they had seen the signs, how you were just so good at hiding them, there was no way they could have known how you were feeling and all you have been through but they wish they had anyway. When in reality if they took a second to look they would see him ruined with the scars of his past.
Beyond repair, he was ruined, broken, scarred, and haunted by memories and the blood of those whose lives were lost because of him. Would they forgive him if they knew he didn't mean for their deaths to happen? If they knew how much he regretted ever being born?
How if he could sacrifice himself for them he would without a second thought? Probably not, but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset at that thought.
He should have tried harder to save everyone and be stronger. But he didn't. Besides he wouldn’t have forgiven himself either, he didn’t even deserve to hope they did.
Part of him wished he had someone to say goodbye to. Someone who would mourn his death, who would be hurt beyond repair at even the thought of losing him. He knew it was selfish of him to want even to hope the hurt he felt over the death of Sirius on someone else but he didn't care. He wanted to be wanted, someone who against all odds stuck with him in the shit hole of his life.
To be given the same amount of that he exudes to the people in his life. He’s so, so tired of being the one doing the heavy lifting in every single relationship he’s in. The one trying to keep sinking lifeboats afloat after the other person’s already jumped ship.
He wants someone willing to take his pain and make it their own. He wants someone who looks forward to spending every waking moment with him, who eats every meal with him and never tires of him. He wants more than anything to be somebody’s first choice. Every single day. He wants someone who will always choose him, over everything, over the world without him even needing to ask.
To make him smile when all he wants to do is be gone, to make living worth it in a way it never had before. To look at him first in a crowded room of people and to laugh about things only the two of you would get.
Want, want, want all he ever does is want.
How long he had been standing at the edge of the tower he doesn't know. Maybe he should have written a letter to everyone he is leaving behind even if they don't exactly care about him. It was the right thing to do, but he was done doing the right thing, and leaving letters was always a bit dramatic for his taste anyway.
He could just jump now but why spare the chance to cut himself one last time? He didn't like doing it as some may think, but it was the only thing that quieted his thoughts. It made him feel a bit better.
Like an itch, he couldn't help but scratch. He welcomed the pain, a reminder he wasn’t gone quite yet.
There was no place on his arms that was unmarked showing years of battles lost. This was going to be the last time and he wanted to make sure there was no chance he would survive. So he cut vertical lines from his wrist to halfway up both his arms.
He immediately dropped the blade as his arms started to slightly shake. This hadn't happened to him before but these cuts were to optimize blood loss instead of as a way to make him forget so it was probably fine.
That was until it wasn't and his knees bucked, he couldn't get his legs to work well enough to stand back up. There goes his plan of jumping, one last thing in his life he messed up. But this also meant that he was quickly bleeding out and there was no chance of him making it through the next ten minutes so that was a plus.
At least now, the last thing he saw was the stars; they really were beautiful. He spent countless hours year after year staring at the night sky. When he was locked in his bedroom at Privet Drive with nothing to do besides name the stars he saw, they were there for him when he would otherwise be alone.
They raised him when no one else would
When he was shunned by the school as they believed him to be the heir of Slytherin, when everyone thought he put his name in the goblet of fire the stars were there. When he couldn't sleep he was able to come to this very tower and watch the stars.
When he had no one to talk to the stars would always listen. They were the most consistent thing in his life, which should have made him feel upset, yet it never did. It was just another reason why it was a good thing he wouldn't make it to the next day.
His vision was starting to fill with black spots, and each time he closed his eyes, it was harder and harder to open them once more. He thought he might have heard a gasp somewhere behind him, but he also heard constant ringing in his ears ever since he fell to the ground, so he couldn't be sure of anything at this point. The last thing he saw before his eyes dropped closed were the stars staring back at him.
Welcoming him home.