He sat on the Astronomy tower, alone in the dead on night. He knew he was a coward, he was about to kill himself after all. But he had nothing.

No money.

No family.

No friends.

The lack of money was caused by his father, the useless drunk. Spending his spineless mother's money on alcohol, starving his family but mostly his son of food and new, fitting clothes.

He doesn't count his mother and father as family, family wouldn't hit family. His mother was weak, never standing up for herself or her son. A real mother wouldn't hex or curse her own child just because her husband said it would make her child normal, not magical or as his father says a freak.

He also didn't have true friends; his 'friends' were only his friends because of his skills. They would abandon him in a second if he wasn't so good at his classes.




That was what he was. Those three words are what he will forever be, no matter how old he is, no matter how accomplished he is.

He looked at the ground far, far beneath him. The Moon loomed overhead, bright in the eerie darkness.

He put his note onto the handrail, the pale parchment shining, the red ink of his suicide note looking like blood. It was quite ironic, the ink red like blood, red like the blood he would spill when he dies.

The note was pitiful really, but it was the only way he could express his feelings without ridicule. They couldn't bully him if he was dead after all.

He smiled and closed his eyes as a peaceful expression appeared on his face. He wasn't going to suffer anymore; no one could hurt him anymore.

He gripped the banister as his legs went over the edge, dangling outside of the building. He slowly slid off the rail, not fearing what would happen next.

There was the sound of a falling object and a thud. The soft crackling of bones being muted by the night.

An owl hooted in the forest while a red-headed girl tossed and turned in her sleep, a bad feeling settling into her stomach.

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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