Just Harry

'The Boy Who Lived' 'The Chosen One' 'Potter' 'Freak 'The Boy Who Lies'

But what about Harry...that's his name isn't it?

At birth a child is given a name, not a title or a label of cruelty...so why is it that no one can see the young boy named Harry?.

The boy who sits alone in his room at number 4 Privet Drive, with only his owl for company.

Hedwig

His beautiful snow white owl that he got for his 11th Birthday from Hagrid...seemed like the only friend he had right now, after being sent back to his vicious Aunt and Uncle for the summer holidays.

Didn't Dumbledore see that he hurt inside? Watching Sirius fall through that veil will be imprinted in his mind until the day he died.

The boy lays in his bed and thinks about Sirius, how much he missed him, how much he blamed himself for his death, and how he thought he should be dead instead.

That last thought lingered in Harry's mind longer than it should have done.

What would Sirius want?

What would he think if he knew I was thinking of taking, as they say, the cowards way out?

Harry shook away the thought of Sirius, but the pain in his heart remained.

Today is the day

He thought as he raised himself from his bed and walked towards the bathroom.

Today the pain will end

He clicked the lock on the door and sat against the bath and stared ahead into nothing.

How much pain can a young boy take?, how many people he loved and cared for can he watch die before it became too much to take.

So with sheer determination and the thought of seeing his parents and Sirius again, he raised himself off the floor to rummage through the bathroom cabinet.

Harry found what he was looking for when his shaking fingers grasped a single razor blade and examined it with tear and pain filled eyes. He once again lowered himself back onto the floor and held the blade to his wrist.

Mum...

Dad...

Cedric...

Sirius...

Those are the names and faces that flew through his head as he dragged the blade down his forearm. Blood and tears ran rivers down his face and forearm as each cut became deeper and longer.

He watched as the blood left his arm and felt more free than he has in 2 years, he felt like he was washing away the guilt and pain and the very blood Voldemort used to restore himself until he could feel nothing inside.

As the blood pooled on the floor, you could see it leave the boys face, leaving a pale and lifeless small boy slumped on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

A screech can be heard from the boys room, for a now lonely owl has lost he companion, her raven haired human boy.

Heavy footsteps can be heard coming up the stairs, but Harry cannot hear the anymore. A flash oh brilliant light and the door flew off its hinges.

An old man with strange clothes and long white hair and beard stands fixed to the spot and is horrified at what he sees in front of him.

A disturbing howl of pain could be heard from the residence of number 4 Privet Drive

'The Boy Who Lived' 'The Chosen One' 'Potter' 'Freak' 'The Boy Who Lies'

Was pale and covered in his own blood , who's lifeless eyes stared into the now dull blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, who took in the boys pales crimson covered figure slumped lifelessly on the floor.

"Harry" cried the old man as he took the boy into his arms and shed many rare tears.

Many people came to mourn him, many people now lived in fear of what was to come now that their 'Chosen one' was no more.

But there were only a few of whom mourned the death of Harry.

Life is filled with labels, cruel names and taunts, but why is it that such action had to be taken for him to be just be Harry

Harry James Potter

31st July 1980 - 30th July 1996

R.I.P

Brother, Friend, Son