"Harry, Harry, come down for dinner this instant! You haven't eaten in 2 weeks!"

This is the life of The Boy Who Lived

Ever since coming back home from his forth year at Hogwats School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Harry had refused to eat, sinking, quite quickly, into a silent depression. The death of Cedric Diggory had hit him hard, very hard, for at least 5 times a day, his thoughts were on Cedric, and what he could have done to prevent what happened. And this is where our sad tale starts, In Number 4 Privite Drive, upstairs, second door on the right, in Harry Potters Bedroom.

"Aunt Petunia, as I've said before, I'M FINE!!!"

Did I also forget to say that Mr. Potter is currently angry at everything and everyone. He no longer cries, oh no, he now yells. They won't leave him in peace, which I know he needs. Continuous yelling, continuous owls, like the one he received today, which he refused to open, everything was starting to annoy him.

That un-opened letter said:

Harry -

We'll be picking you up at 5:30, be ready and packed

- Sirius

"Why can't they just leave me alone?" Sitting in the dark, on this bed, was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Hero of the wizarding World, with a blade in his hand, just about to slash at his wrists. This had become a habit for Harry, Daily slashing to his wrists, after thoughts on Cedric. Right now, about to cut his wrists open for the final time, Harry placed 4 Letters next to him. The first letter, addressed to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, Closest Father figures Harry has ever had. The second letter, to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, The third letter, to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Harrys best friends, and the forth letter, addressed to everyone else. As Harry brought the blade down on his left wrist, he felt tears stream down his face. He hoped that everyone could forgive him.

Too bad Harry hadn't read the letter this morning, or else he would know that he was to be picked up in 10 minutes.