Don't I deserve some happiness? I get thrown around, used by people, and punished for trying to be a good person constantly. He felt a sharp pain in his chest as thoughts of violently hurting Vernon, Dudley, and even his so-called friends flashed in his mind. Harry raised himself to a sitting position and hissed as he tenderly touched the bruise. If I continue to play the part of the good guy, I'll end-up with a tombstone to my name and the prophecy makes that conclusion unavoidable at this rate. Death Eaters like the Malfoys, the Muclibers, Crabbes, Goyles, can go on and rape and murder muggles, the survivors and their relatives get oblivated, and the rich Purebloods can cheat the system because of traditional laws regarding Pureblood families! The entire system is corrupt! The bad guys can go rape, murder, and torture and the good guys continue to get hated on by the general public and the Ministry.
He thought about the history that he had read on the Death Eaters when he had tried to gain more information in the library before the end of term. Meanwhile psychopaths like Voldemort can kill and do whatever they want, bringing his return to the public light hasn't done shit, and the Ministry only pretends to be doing something! thought Harry as his teeth clenched and his fingers balled into fists. He glared at the bedroom ceiling as his tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Harry's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed. Love couldn't save a friend like Cedric from being murdered. Morality is bullshit, concluded Harry, as he thought over his life, What was that shit that Dumbledore spewed about my secret power being love? Love brought me nothing but pain and betrayal! Love doesn't stop death from taking people I care about, love wasn't able to save Sirius, or my parents. He ruminated upon all of his years in Hogwarts and his life experiences outside of it. Harry felt both utterly betrayed and pathetic for being stupid enough to be fooled by them twice. He had written to his friends about the terrible lump in his chest and the guilt he felt over Sirius's death but, just like last year, he didn't receive any response from Ron and Hermione. Not even the letter about the assault that he had endured at the hands of his Uncle a week ago had brought a response. Harry had wrote to the Order every three days but never got a reply back. He flinched as he felt the bruise that his Uncle had given him a week ago. Harry cried as he lay in bed as his mind mercilessly relived the mistakes that led to Sirius's death. Check "dragen challenge: Slavery" for more on google.