Chapter 1 : Finally Seeing
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How easy it was for them to pretend like nothing was wrong with them Harry thought.
Harry's mental health had been declining in record speed. In the past week he had gone from being the sole benefactor to the order, having Ginny as his girlfriend, being the one everyone looked up to, to nothing.
No one could pinpoint exactly what it was that had changed his behavior. Harry knew, and he wasn't about to tell any of them.
"They wouldn't understand," Harry told himself. He didn't want there pity. He felt sickened every time someone looked at him with eyes of concern, even Ginny.
He needed someone who understood him but no one did and no one ever would understand someone like him.
He was confused about himself. They only wanted him to destroy Voldemort. Then they would forget about him. He would make them understand that he wasn't some coat to be put in the closet when they weren't using it. He would make them regret ever thinking they could control him.
He played with the small cyanide pill in his hand, rolling it around his fingers before resting it in his palm.
He gave a smirk as he thought about how they would react when they saw that their hero was dead.
"They won't give a damn," he thought to himself, "They'll pretend to be sad for only so long until they could keep the charade up no longer.
Harry decided to go walk around the Burrow one last time before he succumbed to his own madness.
Harry got up quietly and looked over at Ron who was still snoring loudly before he opened the door and entered the landing. He moved down the stairs at a quick pace and after stumbling around in the dark, he found the door to outside.
The cool and gentle breeze hit his face and invigorated his senses as he started to walk towards the garden.
His mind played over different scenarios in his head on how they would react to his passing. What would they think when they figured out that it was by his own hand that he died?
He laughed as he thought about it. They really didn't care about him. He should've know all along but he didn't want to beleive it. He was happy and content to live the lie, until now.
He leaned down to smell a flower and took in its scent. He didn't understand how the world could be so cruel to him. The world held so many wonders for him, it was so beautiful, but he couldn't see through his dark twisted mind and now all he saw was a barren wasteland devoid of beauty or happiness.
He stood up and looked into the sky. Nightime was his favorite time. Everything was peaceful and quiet. He also hated it. It was like the calm before the storm luring him into a false sense of security.
He continued walking pausing here and there to take in his surroundings.
"If someone really cared about me then they would not treat me like some tool," he said to himself.
All of a sudden he found himself sobbing and he yelled into the night as he fell to the ground. He wasn't worried that someone had heard him. He was far away from the house now so that they wouldn't.
He curled into a ball on the ground as he cried. He thought of all the things in his life that he thought were important to him: his friends, his new family, Ginny.
His heart turned to stone in the moment that he was on the ground. He finally quit sobbing and turned on his back, laying prostrate as he stared into the sky.
"Beautiful night isn't it?"
Harry jumped up reaching for his wand as he looked for the source of the voice but realized he had left it in his room at the Burrow.
Harry found it as he watched a figure in a plain black cloak set down a flower he had been smelling.
When Harry didn't say nothing, the figure continued, "I love the smell of flowers. They are what gives this world it's beauty. I remember when I would run around in my garden for hours and just drink in there beauty."
"Who are you?" Harry managed to say at last.
"Who I am is of no importance to you," the figure stated, "It's what I have to show you that holds great significance to you."
The figure must have read the puzzlement in his eyes because he spoke again, "I see what you're planning. I'm here to show you what the consequences of your actions would be if you went through with your plan."
Harry pulled the tiny pill out of his pocket and looked down at it.
"To be able to die so easily," the figure said as Harry turned his attention towards him, "It seems logical and so easy but will you be able to do it?"
Harry found himself speaking without really thinking, "Of course I can. You don't know what I would or wouldn't do.
"Well judging by the way you reached for your wand when I first spoke, I think you're not so sure."
Harry was angered at this. Here was just another person telling him what he could and couldn't do. Here was another person thinking they knew him better than he knew himself.
"You don't know who you are anymore," the figure said as if reading his mind, "You are lost and the implications of your actions and choices tonight and how they affect everyone else are also lost to you."
"No one cares about me," he heard himself say, "They see me as a tool, a pawn, and nothing more."
"Are you so sure of that?"
Harry was about to speak before the figure interupted him, "I can show you."
"Show me, show me what?"
"I can show you what will happen if you decide tonight to die."
"Well I've already decided," Harry said as he shifted his position, "And nothing will change my mind."
"I'm sure what I have to show you might have an impact on your descision," and before Harry could say anything else the figure said something and waved his hand.
A blinding white light flashed into his eyes and all of a sudden, he found himself standing in his room at the Burrow.
Harry turned to the figure to say something but the figure put a finger to his lips. Just then, Ron came in the room.
"Harry wake up," Ron said as he walked over to the bed Harry had been sleeping in, "Mom didn't want us to wake you since you had a rough day yesterday but it's lunchtime mate."
when no sound came from the bed, Ron walked over to the sleeping Harry and started to shake his shoulder.
Harry then watched frantically as Ron searched for a pulse on his neck but he finally realized that his friend wouldn't find one.
He was dead.
Harry heard Ron gasp as he stepped back.
"Mum!" Ron yelled, "Mum get up here quick."
A minute later Molly came through the door.
"What is all this ruckus about Ronald Weasley?" she asked, "You know Teddy is down for his nap."
"He isn't moving Mum," Ron said quietly.
"What do you mean he isn't moving," Molly said as she hurriedly made her way to the bed.
She reached down to check his pulse but Harry knew the results would be the same.
"Oh my," she said as she backed away.
"Mum please tell me he's just pretending," Ron said in a near whisper.
"You can't fake something like this," she said to her son, "Harry is dead."
"No," Ron said as he moved to the dead Harry and started shaking him, "He can't be dead."
"There's nothing you can do," Molly said but Ron continued shaking the dead Harry.
"I think it's time to move on to the next one," the figure said.
See, they didn't care about him. They didn't even cry. And with this thought he saw the fleeting yet blinding flash of white light and he was transported to outside the Weasley house.
It was around noon and there were many people in makeshift seats staring up at a podium.
He could see Remus up at the podium standing by a white casket.
"We all loved Harry," he heard Remus say.
"Bullshit," Harry thought to himself but continued to listen.
"When Sirius passed away I was made Harry's godfather. I swore to protect him. In that I have failed."
Remus looked at the casket before continuing, "Why he did this even I can't say but I know that he his still in my heart and he will always be there."
At this Remus' voice cracked and he was lead off stage.
And then Harry noticed it. Remus wasn't the only one crying. Many people were, and Harry couldn't understand it. People who didn't care for someone didn't cry when they died.
Harry looked over at the Weasleys and Hermione and saw them all crying.
His gaze lingered over Ginny and saw to his horror that she wasn't crying. She seemed dead. She displayed no emotion as Harry's casket was vanished away to some unknown graveyard.
Her mother called to her and either she pretended to not hear, or really didn't hear. She just sat there dead to the world.
Ginny's face troubled him greatly and he didn't know if she really didn't care as he'd been thinking the past few weeks, or if she really did and she felt hollow, like she didn't know what to feel.
"On to the next one then," the figure said.
"I really don't think that is nescessary," Harry retorted.
But the person ignored him and the now familiar light blocked out everything else.
He now stood in a graveyard. He saw a lone figure walking towards him. As the figure got closer he saw it was Ginny and she was carry three flowers.
She walked right past Harry and stopped at a headstone. Harry turned around and was shocked.
It was his mom's headstone.
Ginny layed a flower at the base of the headstone and moved to the next one. This one was his dads.
"What is she doing visiting my parents graves?"
"Watch," the figure said
Ginny placed another flower at the base of his dad's headstone and seemed to hesitate before moving on to the last grave.
She approached the grave and then got to her knees as she placed the last flower on the last grave. His grave.
She just sat on her knees motionless for awhile before she spoke.
"Why did you do this?" she said stroking the headstone.
"You left me. You promised you wouldn't ever leave me anymore. You broke your promise and I hate you for that. But I also love you more than you could possibly know. You left behind so many people that care for you. I know you thought we didn't but we do. You broke a lot of hearts.
She paused before continuing this time with a tremble, "I don't know what to do anymore. I didn't believe it at first. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to hear that the person I love killed himself. Why you did it, I'll never know. I just wonder why I wasn't good enough for you.
After that she started crying softly. "I love you, " she said between tears, "I've always loved you."
"Can we stop this now please?" Harry said turning to the figure, "I don't want to watch this."
"Because you don't care or because it's finally starting to sink in?" the figure asked.
"I can't watch her cry." Harry retorted.
"It's breaking your heart isn't it? To know that they really did love you but you were blind to it. You didn't want to see it. You're seeing exactly how it would play out if you decided to end it tonight, but wait it's not over yet."
Harry turned back to Ginny to see the last remnents of tears on her face.
"I thought about doing it to you know." she said, "I almost did. But I knew that would have been selfish of me. I would follow you to the end and I almost did. But then I realized this is the end. Without you there's nothing I can enjoy anymore. All the colors have faded leaving me a dull gray to a once vibrant colorful life and you caused that to happen. You did this to me.
"But I still love you," she said quietly standing up, "I'm just waiting to be able to see you again."
Harry watched as she walked away and the figure turned to him, "I think it's time we joined the real world."
Harry closed his eyes as the light flashed and he found himself standing back where it all started.
Harry turned to the figure and he spoke, "Why did you show me all those?" He asked, "Why not just let me die?"
"Because your time is not yet at hand Harry Potter," the figure said, "You have many more things yet to do, to accomplish, before leaving this life."
Harry turned away to ponder what the figure said. Was he talking about the prophecy? Did that mean he really had to kill Voldemort? When he turned back around, the figure was no where in sight.
"Typical," Harry said with a laugh.
He made his way back to the house and very soon found himself laying in his four poster bed in Ron's bedroom.
He took the pill out and looked at it before crushing it between his fingers.
He had almost killed himself tonight.
"I almost did, but I didn't," he thought with a smile as he layed back and let sleep take him into the bliss that was dreams.
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by annie snape