Chapter Text
It was raining that day.
The day he had given up.
The day he realized there was no point in trying anymore. No point in searching for a purpose.
The reason was simple: he was nothing more than a tool to kill the Dark Lord. And now that Voldemort was dead, he was useless. Once again, he was nothing but a freak. A waste of space.
People did not need him. They did not want him. They wanted a piece of his fame, or his money. Nobody truly saw him as Harry. Just Harry.
Even Hermione and Ron did not know everything about him.
The just Harry who had run from his cousin to avoid being punched.
The just Harry who had not had a single friend.
The just Harry who felt fear every single day.
The just Harry who only wanted to be loved.
And it had always been like that.
He was not all the things people saw in him. He was not the brave boy they believed him to be. He was only a child who never knew his own worth well enough to put his life before danger.
He could see it now.
It felt as if he had truly died that day in the Forbidden Forest. At least his soul had.
Perhaps it had started much earlier.
Maybe he died inside when Sirius died.
Or with Cedric.
Or when Dudley beat him until he passed out.
Maybe it was the day the Dursleys told him his parents had not wanted him. That nobody wanted him.
Or perhaps he had died together with his parents.
It did not really matter anymore.
Because today, he had decided he would finally be with them.