Linked in Depression

The only sounds he could hear were the slow dripping of the tap, echoing off the tiled walls, of the small enclosed bathroom he was in. He slowly rocked back and forth; every bad memory, every bad word, every bad thought, flashing through his head like a muggle movie, over and over again. Tears began to swell in his emerald green eyes, and he took his glasses off and threw them across the room, causing them to hit the wall and crack. His heart began to beat harder, like a continuous hammer to the chest.

You're worthless, Potter. All you do is kill the ones who you love. First you parents, then Sirius, now Dumbledore. You are good for nothing. You are a killer. Murderer.

The last thought resounded in his mind. Murderer. Harry began to shake his head, the tears flowing freely now. Nobody wanted him; all he did was kill. Murder.

"First you can cook our breakfast, and then go out and mow the lawn, then clip the roses, they are getting a bit out of control." His aunt looked at him sternly.

Harry glared at her. "No."

His aunt blinked. "What did you say?"

His uncle Vernon came in and looked at his wife. "Anything the matter, love?"

"He told me no."

"Do what your aunt tells you to, Potter."

"No, I won't! You can't make me!" Harry clenched his teeth together and continued to glare. His uncle came over to him, his face turning more purple by the second; his mustache seeming out of place among the bulges of fat making his face. In a second, his fist came down and hit Harry across the face.

"You live in OUR house and therefore will do as WE say!" Vernon yelled.

Harry looked up with him, and if looks could kill. "No more." He ran upstairs, into the bathroom and locked the door.

The memories - Malfoy smirking at him; Snape looking down and sneering; Voldemort arising once more; Dumbledore's last look on his face. Flash, flash, flash. One after the other, they began to cloud Harry's eyesight.

He glanced up to his cousin's razor beside the sink. He felt nothing; he was empty. He needed to feel. He was worthless. He grabbed the razor and without giving a second thought brought it across his arm, the slice of red showing immediately. In a second, along came the searing burn of being cut. He winced briefly, and continued to slash at his arm. It was not enough. The blood poured down his arm, like a crimson river, and his eyesight went in and out of focus. He dropped the razor and looked to the window showing outside.

In the distance, he could see Hedwig flying closer and closer. He loved his owl; she was one of his closest friends. He glanced down at his arm and cringed. He had to save her, and the rest of his friends - his family. He was made the savior of the wizarding world for a reason. And he had to fulfill that reason. If he didn't, who would?

Who would?

Harry blinked as realisation dawned on him. If he didn't do anything to save the ones he loved, then they will die anyway. He slowly got up and threw the razor in the bin. He ran the shower over his arm, and flinched from the burning sensation he felt from the blood red incisions. After his arm was cleaned, he opened the door and crept quietly to his bedroom.

Throwing all his clothes and books in his trunk, and not giving a second thought about the ministry; he shrunk the whole lot, and slipped it into his pocket. After grabbing his invisibility cloak and broomstick, he made for the front door. As he slipped into the morning sunshine, he half-grinned to himself, despite the searing pain still surging through his arm.

He was going to find and destroy the horcruxes if it was the last thing he did. And eventually, he was going to get Voldemort. The only way he could save his friends was if he did this. So, swinging the cloak around his shoulders and disappearing from sight, he climbed onto his broomstick and took off into the morning sky; with only one thought on his mind.

I'm going to get you Voldemort. You are going to pay.

***

Many thousands of kilometers away, Voldemort's eyes snapped open, and he could only hear one thought resounding through his head.