It looked so peaceful. Ducks were swimming on the lake, causing the water to ripple where they swam. The forest looked peaceful, birds were singing and the warm soft wind blew in Harry's face. But even this beauty could not suppress the pain he felt inside. It could not make him forget what he had done.

He stared into the distance. Hogwarts was the only place he ever had felt was home, and now not even here did he feel like he was safe and loved. All he could feel was pain and sorrow. Sirius is dead and it's all my fault. His fingers were clutching the banister. His knuckles were white from the force with which he grabbed it. Why was I so damn stupid? Why did I have to believe what Voldemort sent me through this damn mind bond. God, Sirius, I'm so sorry.

Harry sank down and pressed his forehead against the banister. His hands loosened their death grip on the rail and sank down as well. Through the tears in his eyes he stared at his underarms. His long-sleeve shirt was covering his wounds, but Harry knew that they were under the fabric. Angry red scars and open wounds. The memory of the last cutting, an hour ago, was still fresh and Harry remembered it with satisfaction

--An hour ago--

The knife in his hand felt good. The old wounds hadn't healed until now, and he was already eager to add new ones. When the blade cut through the skin it was such a good feeling. It was like punishing himself for his stupidity. It couldn't bring Sirius back, but it slightly made up for Sirius' death. No, it doesn't make his death any lesser. Nothing can make up for what I did. I got Sirius killed because I didn't do what they all told me, I didn't learn to shut my mind, and because I believed Voldemort instead of my friends and teachers.

The pain didn't make the memory of Sirius falling into the veil vanish. The memory of Sirius' face when he fell through the veil had burned itself in Harry's brain. He saw it every time he closed his eyes and when he thought about Voldemort and the battle in the Ministry even when he had his eyes open. Unfortunately, he thought about it almost all the time. How often had Snape and Moody told me how important it was to shut my mind? How often had Dumbledore told me that I shouldn't believe what I see in my dreams? But did I listen to what they said? No, bloody Harry, the hero, has to think that he knows better than his teachers and friends.

The anger made the next cut much deeper than the other ones. Blood was running out of the wound and dropped onto the floor of the Room of Requirement. Harry felt dizzy, but couldn't stop cutting himself. It was the only time where he could forget Sirius' face and the burning pain in his chest.

When he cut himself, one after another, was the only time that he felt alive. Any other time he felt like dying. Like a withered leaf that just waited to fall from the tree. Only one little gust of wind and it would lose contact with its tree, its life support, and fall down to rot on the ground. Harry had waited so long for the last push that would let him lose contact with his 'tree'; his life. His soul was already rotten. His body felt like it was on fire and he didn't know if he could stand it any longer. Cutting helped him to feel alive. There is still blood flowing through my veins and not ash. And it is red not black like he felt his soul was right now.

The knife fell down in the small puddle that had already built under his arm. The clinking sound it produced was echoing in Harry's ears. He ran his fingers over the fresh wounds and enjoyed the pain it was causing. Pain nobody else was willing to give him. They were all so damn understanding. Remus was the worst. He had already left the castle. When Harry remembered Remus' expression he wanted to throw up. 'It's not your fault Harry. It was Sirius' choice to leave Grimmauld Place. He knew it was dangerous,' he had said, but his face said something different. The sorrow of losing his best friend and the realization of the senselessness of Sirius death was written all over Remus' face. 'Sirius wouldn't want you to beat yourself up about something that can't be changed. He is dead Harry and we have to learn to go on without him.' Those were Remus' last words before he hugged Harry one last time and left Hogwarts. And then he left me alone, Harry thought bitterly. The dizziness became worse, and Harry realized that he had to stop the bleeding. The Room of Requirement supplied him with bandages and he wrapped them forcefully around his arm.

He lay down on the cold floor in a fetal position, drawing his hurt arm near his chest. What will happen if I just die here? Will they ever find me? God, how I wish that it all would be over. I don't want to be their god damn hero. I don't want to fight Voldemort. I don't want to endanger my friends. My parents died because of me, then Cedric and now Sirius. Who will be next? Hermione? Ron?

He rolled onto his back. His left arm still pressed tight to his chest, He could still feel the pain and that connected him to life. So many spots on the ceiling, Harry thought. A spot for every person Voldemort killed, and I couldn't rescue them because I was too weak. The spots started to move and Harry closed his eyes. It felt as if his body was spinning and he lost all orientation. Harry didn't know if he had passed out or how much time had past until he opened his eyes again. The spots on the ceiling didn't move any longer and Harry sat up. The bandage was red from his blood and he decided to change it before leaving the room. The blood didn't seep out of the wound, and so he hoped the next bandage would stay white. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over it and stood up. After a few second he stopped swaying and left the room. I need fresh air.

--Back on the Tower--

He was still sitting in front of the banister, his forehead against the bars. Moody and Snape will take me back to the Dursleys in an hour. The others have already left. He hadn't walked them to the train even when Ron and Hermione had asked him to. No, he wanted to be alone. He couldn't bear the happy faces and the laughter of the other students. He couldn't bear them talking about their holiday plans. Where they will travel to; what they will do with their parents and fiends. It makes me feel sick. Even the memory of all those happy people made him want to throw up. I will never be able to be happy like them. Not that I ever was. But there was a time where I could enjoy my life, even when my relatives abused me and I always had Voldemort on my back. I had my friends and I was so glad to have them. They made me happy and I felt loved. Now I'm only scared that they will die because they are my friends. It would be better for them if they never spoke to me again or if I just died.

Harry pulled himself up again. A fresh wave of pain ran through his arm and reminded him of his guilt. Yeah, it would be better if I died. Someone else can defeat the damn Dark Lord. How could they ever believe I would be capable of defeating him?

Again his eyes wandered over the grounds of Hogwarts. He could see that it was beautiful but it was as if this message got lost on the way to his brain and heart. The sound of the birds was muffled as if he had cotton wool in his ears. No, not just his ears; he had the feeling it was in his skull. Not only the sounds were altered, it also was like seeing the landscape in black and white even when he knew it was colorful. As if his mind couldn't recognize colors any longer. Only black and white. Yeah, black and white. Good and bad. Living or dying. Nothing between, he thought bitterly.

He didn't even realize that he had climbed over the banister until he was looking down into the abyss. His upper body was leaning forward while his hands were clutching the rail. Power was what he felt right now. Power to decide. 'Be reasonable, Harry. It is a trick of Voldemort. Sirius is at Grimmauld Place.' Hermione's voice rang in his head. Why didn't I listen to her?

What will Hermione do when she hears what I have done? She will cry because she loves me like a brother. Harry's heart crumpled at the thought of the pain he will cause her. But it is for the best. She is safer without me. Ron will have a tantrum. He will ask himself why he hadn't realized what would happen. And again it is the best to jump because Ron and his family are safer without me. He will get over it and he still has Hermione.

Snape and Moody will be furious. They had tried very hard to help me these last days. Snape had started to teach me Occlumency again and even was kind and patient when I couldn't master it because I wasn't able to concentrate. They had tried to convince me to speak about Sirius' death, but I couldn't. I wasn't able to block my mind and so Snape saw what my relatives did to me. Snape was shouting at Harry about not telling anyone about his relatives while Moody came into the room. So now Moody knew it as well. Harry didn't care any longer. He had mainly sitting there, shrugging his shoulders and playing it down while Moody and Snape were thinking about what they could do. They even had offered to speak with Dumbledore to find another place for Harry to stay, but Harry refused. One year ago he would have kissed their feet for it, but now he was even looking forward to go back. It was pain that was waiting for him at the Dursley's. Pain and humiliation. Exactly what he thought he deserved. He didn't deserve that his teachers were so damn understanding and thoughtful. He didn't deserve their kindness and sympathy. Finally Snape and Moody decided to bring him to the Dursleys personally and speak with them. Harry didn't care. He just wanted to run. Run as fast as he could and as far away as possible. He didn't want to see his teachers and friends because he didn't deserve their love and sympathy. Pain was all he deserved. Pain for his stupidity, and the Dursleys would provide it willingly.

All the faces of his friends and teachers in his mind made him still hold onto the rails. Dumbledore, Moody, McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid-his grip tightened, and he even drew a little backwards. A small part of him wanted them to rescue him. A small part hoped that they would be able to make the pain go away.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and, oh Merlin, Remus. His body moved forward again. They are better off without me. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly to see the picture which would help him to make the final decision. The picture that would be the last breeze Harry, the withered leaf, needed to fall from his tree; to end his life. And there the picture was. Sirius' shocked face while he fell through the veil. "Sirius," Harry whispered as his hands let go, and he fell forward over the edge into the abyss.