Go the f**k to hell

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the book this is based on… check bottom for details

Harry sat in the tent he found himself really wanting to write to Voldemort. He picked up his quill and parchment and began to write

The cats nestle close to their kittens now.

The lambs have laid down with the sheep.

You're cozy and warm in your bed, my dear.

Please go the f*ck to hell.

The windows are dark in the town, child.

The whales huddle down in the deep.

I'll fight you one very last duel if you swear

You'll go the f*ck to hell.

The eagles who soar through the sky are at rest

And the creatures who crawl, run, and creep.

I know you're not thirsty. That's bullsh*t. Stop lying.

Lie the f*ck down, Voldemort, and die.

The wind whispers soft through the grass, hon.

The field mice, they make not a peep.

It's been thirty-eight minutes already.

Sweet Merlin, what the f*ck?

Go to the kids from day care are in dreamland.

The froggie has made his last leap.

Hell no, you can't go to the bathroom.

You know where you can go? The f*ck to hell.

The owls fly forth from the treetops.

Through the air, they soar and they sweep.

A hot crimson rage fills my heart, Tom.

For real, shut the f*ck up and die.

The cubs and the lions are snoring,

Wrapped in a big snuggly heap.

How is it you can do all this other great sh*t

But you can't lie the f*ck down and die?

The seeds slumber beneath the earth now

And the crops that the farmers will reap.

No more questions. This interview's over.

I've got two words for you, Tom: f*cking die.

The tiger reclines in the simmering jungle.

The sparrow has silenced her cheep.

F*ck your Death Eaters, I'm not getting you sh*t.

Close your eyes. Cut the cr*p. Die.

The flowers doze low in the meadows

And high on the mountains so steep.

My life is a failure, I'm a sh*tty-ass saviour.

Stop f*cking with me, please, and die

The giant pangolins of Madagascar are snoozing.

As I lie here and openly weep.

Sure, fine, whatever, I'll bring you some milk.

Who the f*ck cares? You're not gonna die.

This room is all I can remember.

The furniture cr*ppy and cheap.

You win. You escape. You run down the hall.

As I nod the f*ck off, and die.

Bleary and dazed I awaken

To find your eyes shut, so I keep

My fingers crossed tight as I tiptoe away

And pray that you're f*cking dead.

We're finally watching our movie.

Popcorn's in the microwave. Beep.

Oh sh*t. Goddamn it. You've gotta be kidding.

Come on, go the f*ck back to hell

Harry looked at his work, and smiled to himself. He grabbed an owl and sent the letter off to Voldemort

I hope you liked it. If enough people ask I will make a sequel of Voldemort receiving the letter Comes from the children's book "Go the F**k to sleep" it can be found at .nl/wp-content/uploads/Go_To_