He stared at the dagger--at the sharp blade shinning in the moonlight. Just one cut over each wrist and he would be dead in minutes. No one would miss him. His 'family' would most likely celebrate, although they might mutter over the mess his blood had made in the room. His friends would mourn him, but in time they'd realize that he had saved them more personal pain and grief. The world—his world—would be shocked that he would kill himself, but they'd chalk it up to him being deranged and not all there. Some others, most notably Dumbledore, would wonder how Voldemort would be defeated now that their weapon was gone…but then again, perhaps they wouldn't. Harry had proven many times over that he was too reckless to destroy the Dark Lord. Especially in the past year…

Before, the world could overlook his mistakes, saying that he had come out the better for them. In fourth year Cedric died, but Harry survived once again, even after dueling with Voldemort. During second year, Harry saved a life and killed a Basilisk. Last year was different. Harry not only managed to get his Godfather killed, he had also caused harm to his friends and unnecessary danger to his professors and ministry employees.

Everyone would be better off if he were gone.

Harry picked up the weapon. It would be so easy, really. Just a couple slashes. He remembered in primary school when suicide was discussed it was blamed on cowardice. The same wasn't true in Harry's case, though. He wasn't running from life—he was just trying to make life easier and safer for others.

Hermione. Her parents were Muggles. They didn't understand the dangers associated with the wizarding world. They didn't deserve to lose their only child because she was kind enough to befriend a boy caught in the middle of the conflict. Ron came from a wizarding family and was one of seven, but Mrs. Weasley was grief stricken when Percy left. Harry didn't know how she'd survive if one of her children actually died. He didn't want to do that to her. She was the only woman he had ever even slightly associated with the world 'mum'. The whole of Hogwarts was endangered while he was there. That was proven in third year when they had thought Sirius was after him. It was only reinforced when Cedric was killed simply because he was chosen to be a school champion.

His friends all said they were at risk anyway. Hermione was a muggle, they argued. Ron's father worked for the ministry, and the Weasley's were known for being tight with Dumbledore.

But they were at the top of the list because they were friends with him. They couldn't argue that point. The people close to him were starting to be killed off, one by one. Sirius' death confirmed it.

Harry shook with anguish. Sirius. His Godfather. His father's best friend. The only one who had really tried to take him in--to give him a place to live other than the Dursley's. The only person Harry had ever really considered a parent. He was gone. Because of Harry. Because he couldn't fucking listen to people who actually knew what the fuck they were talking about.

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't handle the pain, the guilt, and the regret...

Harry lifted the knife.