Work Text:
The cold stones leeched the heat from his bare feet as Harry wandered the ancient halls of Hogwarts, his one true home. It was late, all the students safe in their dorms. All except for him, making his way quickly to the Astronomy tower. Hidden from the ghosts and portraits by his father's invisibility cloak, Harry snorted quietly. Once again he was sneaking around late at night, but this time not for an adventure, and without his beloved friends.
For once he had a true fear of Snape or Filtch finding him, but they were nowhere near him according to the map. The other members of the staff were in their rooms, presumably asleep.
The iron pills he had stolen from his apparently anemic Aunt Petunia were already working in his system, but it would be disappointing if he was found before he made it to the tower. From what he read, the signs of overdosing would be seen soon (and he had more than guaranteed an overdose, taking 184 pills that he mixed with pumpkin juice) and it wouldn't be good if Snape or Filch, or God forbid his demonic cat, found him puking in the halls.
Reaching the bottom of the tower, Harry checked the map once more before tapping his wand against it and whispering, "Mischief managed". Beginning to climb to the top, a twinge went through his stomach and he winced. He hoped he made it to the top before the pain really set in. He didn't want to die painfully, and falling down a couple hundred stairs or just generally being in pain from the overdose didn't sound like what he wanted to do. Nausea was beginning to set in and he took a second to lean against the wall and breathe deeply. Another twinge in his abdomen and Harry ripped off the cloak and put a hand on the wall for balance and vomited on the stairs.
For a second he was horrified until he remembered that the pills had been red and he wasn't vomiting up blood.
Harry shakily wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then laughed, because that didn't even matter! He grinned at his fear and started taking the stairs two at a time, reaching the top in no time at all despite stopping to vomit again. He felt kind of bad for whoever saw it and cleaned it up, as they would probably think it was blood at first too. He spitefully hoped it was Snape.
He stopped to leave his belongings and the letter to Ron and Hermione in a corner, safe from the wind that gently ruffled his hair and pajamas. He didn't want them to get ruined when he hit the ground.
Climbing up onto the ledge, Harry sat down with feet dangling and stared up at the stars as he had done many times while planning this. They twinkled at him merrily, and he smiled. It was a nice night, moon and stars shining bright, the air pleasantly warm, the breeze shaking the leaves on the trees in the Forbidden Forest. The rustling sounded like waves. He felt almost guilty for enjoying it so much. Why should he be allowed something nice before he died? He, who through his foolish actions killed Sirius and just by his birth killed his parents? Maybe it was the universe's way of saying he was doing the right thing. After all, with him gone, Voldemort would have no reason to target his friends and their families. Dumbledore and the Order could prevail without him rushing into danger and having them lose people saving him and his own from his idiocy. There was no way he could defeat Voldemort, he should have taken school seriously and asked for training. What could a worthless 16-year-old do against such a powerful wizard with years upon years of experience? But Dumbledore and the order of the Pheonix? Without pathetic Harry in the way, he was fully confident that they would triumph.
He hadn't always felt this way, it was only after Sirius' death that the doubts about his own abilities and future had crept in. He had thwarted Voldemort's plans so many times that he had become overconfident, and that overconfidence lost him the only family he had left. The Dursley's didn't count, had never counted, not with everything they had done to him. Starving him, beating him, neglecting him...no, Sirius was his only real family. Maybe Ron and Hermione but he was sure they would move on soon enough after his death.
His stomach was really starting to hurt, so with tears in his eyes and one more survey of the beautiful grounds of what had been his home for almost 6 years, Harry stood up from the ledge and jumped with no fear or regret in his heart.