As Harry sat in his small, unkempt bedroom in Grimmauld Place, he reminisced about his past. How young and clueless he and Ron and Hermione had been. How carefree.
Harry sniffled, his eyes becoming blurry.
Why? He questioned any and all gods. Why must my life be so unfair? What did I do to deserve this?
Gone. All of them, gone. Remus, Sirius, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, Everyone.
"WHY MUST YOU BE SO CRUEL!?" Harry sobbed to no one, sinking down to the side of his bed.
"I pulled all the weight, I was the PAWN in your twisted, little game. AND WHAT DO I GET?! I'LL TELL YOU! NOTHING! NOTHING, nothing, nothing nothing..." Harry repeatedly cried, head in his knees.
"I should just end it..." Harry whispered to himself. He didn't have much of a reason to go on any more, anyways. He was a broken tool, to be thrown out once it served its purpose.
As he continued sobbing quietly, he thought about the ones he'd lost. Ron, who had fallen to the ground sobbing next to Percy over Fred's corpse. That moment of weakness was all that was needed to deal a killing blow.
Hermione, murdered by Rookwood as she rushed to Ron's side. They died in each other's arms.
George, so enraged by Fred's untimely death, was blinded by his need for vengeance and did not see the killing curse heading directly for his chest.
Ginny, mauled by a werewolf in an attempt to save another. They both died.
Harry continued to sob.
He thought about Minerva, offering condolence. How he turned her away, tears pricking his eyes.
He thought about Hagrid, who'd baked a cake for them to eat together, how he'd run from the well-meaning half-giant, not even answering the man's request. He regretted that.
How many regrets did he have? He regretted not telling his friends he loved them more often, for one. Now he could never do that.
Harry continued to sob.