Chapter 1
His life was always going to end like this, him standing at the edge of the Astromany tower with no one but himself to lean on. It was always going to be him and the night sky, him and his thoughts, a blade, and no one to care if he made it out or not.
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 really 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.
Harry was always expected to do the right and noble thing for the greater good of the world. To put everyones needs over his own since all he is, is an orphan, a nobody, an unwanted soul. To do everything for the world that has taken everything from him, and ruined any chance of anything good in his life.
He would do one last thing for the wizarding world 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 sixteen-year-olds 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.
That's why Harry 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. Snow was falling and the sky was scattered with stars. He should feel cold since all he's wearing are trousers and a short-sleeved shirt but he didn't. He has long since lost the ability to feel much of anything. His body is covered head to toe with scars, burns, lacerations, and bruises from years of abuse and borderline torture.
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 it worse by adding to the damage with the cuts on his thighs and wrists almost solely being from his own doing, and the malnutrition he is faced with only being worsened by his unwillingness to eat when he is 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. Maybe then he wouldn't be standing at the edge of this tower. But, 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 and there's nothing he could do it change that. In this life, he really hadn't done anything meaningful to make 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, he never made any friends who would pick him out of a room filled with people or found someone who treated him like part of their family or thought of him like a son. He was nobody's son.
Everyone always said how similar to James he was or how he had Lily's eyes. When people said this all it did was hurt, 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 things as him. Of 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 blew up too soon.
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. 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, 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, to be stronger, and to train harder. But he didn't.
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 and wish the hurt he felt over the death of Sirus on someone else but he didn't care. He just wanted someone to want him, against all odds to stick with him in the shit hole of his life.
To make him smile when all he wants to do is be gone, to make living worth it. To look at him first in a crowded room of people and to laugh about things only both 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.
There was no place on his arms that was unmarked showing years of struggling. This was going to be the last time and he wanted to make sure there was no chance he of survive this 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. 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 living past maybe the next ten minutes so that was a plus.
At least this way the last thing he would see 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 was shunned since everyone believed him to be the heir of Slytherin, and 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 now that he was thinking of it is sad. 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, each time he closed his eyes it was harder and harder to open them once more. He thought he 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 was the stars staring back at him, welcoming him home.