Title: Not Yet Anyway
Author: sapphire_child
Author email: sapphire_child@hotmail.com
Category: Mystery
Spoilers: Not quite sure but I'll put down all five books anyway
Rating: PG
Summary: It's kind of hard to summarize this because it's such a strange fic but here goes. Erm, 1st person talking about killing someone
Disclaimer: For those of you who don't know and want to bust me for doing illegal stuff, this is all JKR's and NOT MINE! Except for the plot…the plot is mine! All MINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! (BTW Thankyou to my friends Casey and whitefaith who triggered the inspiration for this story!)
.
.
.
.
I killed Harry Potter today.
I killed him and left his friends to mourn
And then I left to mourn.
I can remember the burning smell, the flames leaping higher and higher, burning, crinkling, killing.
I could see other faces glinting in the orange-red glow from the fire.
"How could this happen? Why did she do it?"
None of us answered.
None of us knew.
How could it have all gone so horribly wrong?
How could this have happened?
Thoughts whirling round and round like sparks from the fire.
The burning.
The fire.
After it burnt itself out, I took the remains and put them carefully in a box.
There was deathly silence.
I put the box on the ledge for a moment, sweeping my hair out of my eyes.
"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."
Bitter words of farewell spoken with sadness so great you cannot even hear it anymore.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
Is it Shakespeare? I don't know myself.
I pushed it off the ledge and watched it fall.
Heard the wind in my ears and then it hit the bottom with a dull *thump*.
Now for the shovel, dig the earth back where it's supposed to be.
Is this a time for sorrow?
YES.
Tears.
Not many but some.
They come, slowly leaking out of my eyes, unbidden and unwanted but they still exist, they still come and ruin me.
"Farewell."
Scornful.
Mocking.
This is the end.
The box disappeared from sight, slowly.
A silence, save for the mumbling wind.
Is this guilt?
This leaden feeling I have inside?
Or is it sympathy?
It wasn't me that killed Harry Potter after all.
It wasn't me that killed him at all.
And he's not dead really.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Not yet anyway...
.
.
.
.
A/N: Who do you think it is telling the story? Review me and give me your best guess, I'll tell you if you were right!
Author: sapphire_child
Author email: sapphire_child@hotmail.com
Category: Mystery
Spoilers: Not quite sure but I'll put down all five books anyway
Rating: PG
Summary: It's kind of hard to summarize this because it's such a strange fic but here goes. Erm, 1st person talking about killing someone
Disclaimer: For those of you who don't know and want to bust me for doing illegal stuff, this is all JKR's and NOT MINE! Except for the plot…the plot is mine! All MINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! (BTW Thankyou to my friends Casey and whitefaith who triggered the inspiration for this story!)
.
.
.
.
I killed Harry Potter today.
I killed him and left his friends to mourn
And then I left to mourn.
I can remember the burning smell, the flames leaping higher and higher, burning, crinkling, killing.
I could see other faces glinting in the orange-red glow from the fire.
"How could this happen? Why did she do it?"
None of us answered.
None of us knew.
How could it have all gone so horribly wrong?
How could this have happened?
Thoughts whirling round and round like sparks from the fire.
The burning.
The fire.
After it burnt itself out, I took the remains and put them carefully in a box.
There was deathly silence.
I put the box on the ledge for a moment, sweeping my hair out of my eyes.
"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."
Bitter words of farewell spoken with sadness so great you cannot even hear it anymore.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
Is it Shakespeare? I don't know myself.
I pushed it off the ledge and watched it fall.
Heard the wind in my ears and then it hit the bottom with a dull *thump*.
Now for the shovel, dig the earth back where it's supposed to be.
Is this a time for sorrow?
YES.
Tears.
Not many but some.
They come, slowly leaking out of my eyes, unbidden and unwanted but they still exist, they still come and ruin me.
"Farewell."
Scornful.
Mocking.
This is the end.
The box disappeared from sight, slowly.
A silence, save for the mumbling wind.
Is this guilt?
This leaden feeling I have inside?
Or is it sympathy?
It wasn't me that killed Harry Potter after all.
It wasn't me that killed him at all.
And he's not dead really.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Not yet anyway...
.
.
.
.
A/N: Who do you think it is telling the story? Review me and give me your best guess, I'll tell you if you were right!
