Stepping over the Edge

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. - Martin Luther King, JR

Chapter 1 - Back at Hogwarts

Harry slowly walked through the corridors, eyes on the floor and his feet leading the way. He was supposed to be in class now, Charms or something, but he wasn't sure. He really didn't care either. What did it matter if he went or not? It wasn't like it would help him anyway. If life continues this way, he would probably be dead before this school year ended. Not like he cared about that either.

He wasn't scared about death; he saw no point in it. It was inevitable; it would always come, sooner or later. Sooner for him. He knew that he never would live for long; the question was just how he would go. He knew that he wouldn't be able to defeat Voldemort; he was just a kid after all, so if they meet again he would be the one who falls. But he wasn't sure if he would let it go that way.

Harry Potter didn't fear death, he longed for it. He didn't know how many times he had dreamed about taking his own life, but he did know that he wouldn't stop until he did. He had thought of different ways, cutting open his veins, jumping from Gryffindor tower, making a death potion, everything. But he just didn't have the guts. It was true, he had several nasty scars from his episodes with the knife, but he had never cut the veins. He wasn't sure why, he just hadn't.

He rounded a corner and past a group of second years. He didn't need to look at them to know that they were staring at him. Everyone did that. He was the school freak, the one who cut classes, disobeyed the teachers and hardly spoke to anyone. Everyone had got really sick of his behaviour, and even the Gryffindors had turned their backs on him. They hated the way he humiliated them and lost all their points. Even Hermione, Ron and Ginny had given up on him.

When the year started they had tried to make him change, make him realise that he couldn't keep acting like that. He had ignored them. He didn't care about what he could or couldn't do; no one had the right to tell him that. So they gave up. It was a couple of months ago now. At first they stopped talking to him, then walked away without a word, and finally stopped sitting next to him.

He didn't care about what they did. It was all for the best. He didn't want to talk to them, didn't want them around all the time. He needed peace, and he couldn't get that with them around.

No one understood how he felt. He had gone through so much, and all they wanted was for him to save them yet another time. People didn't care that he had lost his parents, his godfather and his life. He was their saviour, and therefore they wanted him to act like one. He hated them for it. He had never asked for this life, it was just thrown on him, without even asking what he thought.

And then people had the nerve to turn their backs on him. For 15 years they had talked about him, written about him in books and magazines, leaving his life open for the world. They hadn't asked about that either. Why would they? He was a celebrity, common property.

He had given up the fight long ago. There was no use in trying to get the reporters of his back; they would just find another way. He didn't read the newspapers anymore either. It only told about deaths and tragedies, and he had had enough of that during his short life.

Harry glanced down on his watch. Classes should be over by now, and lunch would be served. He didn't eat much anymore, only one or maybe two meals a day. Sometimes he didn't eat at all. He loved to torture himself, felt like he deserved it. He had made so many people suffer, so why shouldn't he too? One time he had gone through three days without food, but he learnt not to do that again. He had collapsed in the middle of a hallway and had to spend two days in the Hospital wing, being forced to eat six times everyday. He didn't want to do that again, so when he started to feel too bad, he went down and ate something. Today he would eat.

He walked down the corridors, now with a goal, and didn't pay any attention to the students jumping out of his way. When he walked into the Great Hall the sound level dropped a bit, but he ignored that to, and went to get his seat at the end of the table. After a couple of minutes the noise went up again as everyone turned back to there own business.

Harry picked at the food in front of him, absently, before he decided to have an apple. Since he didn't eat very much, or very often, his stomach couldn't take so much. An apple would be just enough to get him through another day. He never planned longer then that. One day, that was all. He saw no point in planning a life, when he knew he wouldn't have one.

"Hey Potter! Why do you even stay here? No one wants you around." Malfoy called, making several people in the Hall nod. Not only Slytherins, but people from all the tables, even a few Gryffindors.

Harry just stared down at his apple. He didn't know why he stayed. He didn't give a fuck about school, about the protection of Hogwarts or the fact that he had no other place to go. The protection was only there to keep the inevitable away a little longer, and the fact that he didn't have anywhere else to go didn't bother him. As soon as he stepped out of the grounds he would be captured, so why have a place to go?

"We would be better of without you, so why don't you just leave?" Malfoy called again.

Yeah, why don't you? You don't need this shit? Harry rose from his chair and walked out of the Great Hall. There was no point in staying, he would be better of dead.

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