He never put much thought into how he would die. Maybe he had and had made peace with it. To other people, it was a guessing game. Maybe they would die because of an accident, illness, maybe old age, and such. But he had made peace with the fact that Voldemort would be his end. Maybe that was the reason why he had been too complacent. Funnily enough, his end would not come from his sworn enemy. Rather it would come to an end at the hands of those he considered family. Before that, he would come to learn of betrayals that would befall him. He would learn of how his life was never his but rather he lived under the careful direction and manipulation of the man he considered as a grandfather. He would learn to hate the phrase- For The Greater Good.

You would think under these circumstances he would hate them for doing this to him. No, he was too tired for that. The years of living under the threat of Voldemort had worn him down. Instead, all he felt was a pity for himself and his parents who had sacrificed their lives for him to live. He felt pity for the lives lost in the war. He felt pity for the people blinded by the Light propaganda that covered up their misdeeds under the same phrase-For The Greater Good.

All he wished for at this point even though there was not much hope for it, was another chance at life. Another chance to live again, accomplish more, become a better version of himself, and, maybe, find love.

With these last thoughts, the boy called Harry Potter breathed his last.