Disclaimer: No fictional character in this chapter resembles any person from the World of Reality. Because if they did, pixies would be drunk and the crickets would stop chirping.


The Nightmare of the Pixilated Corpse

'DEARLY BELOVED, WE HAVE GATHERED TODAY TO MOURN THE LOSS OF ONE OF THE GREATEST WIZARDS IN HISTORY.' Dressed floating robes of gentle pink and speaking in CAPS LOCK, Lucius Malfoy's pale blond hair curled up to resemble a wig of the eighteenth century.

Many dark robed people were moaning, crying and groveling in a circle around a marbled coffin beset on a yellow-brick-road. Fluttering birds twittered about while white clouds lazily promenaded the bright blue sky.

'HIS NOBILITY OF SPIRIT, GENEROSITY AND CREATIVITY OF WORDS MADE HIM THE BEST…'

Outside the ring of black robed mourners, a tall and malnourished-looking boy stood. He had a messy hedge of jet black hair, green eyes the shape of almonds and a lightening bolt scar on the right-side of his forehead.

The Reader reading the first chapter had a nagging suspicion that the scar should be in the middle.

'… WORDS OF WISDOM AND HONORABLE…'

He was frowning rather too much and was not crying like all the others. Rather, he was thinking that this place didn't seem, somehow, real enough.

The Reader knew better than to shout the answer to him, so the Reader kept quiet.

Everything appeared normal – the speech bubbles issuing from Lucius Malfoy's mouth, the obvious references to pieces of other fiction – but he felt that it was somehow important to find the answers. It was like something outside the boundaries of his world was urging him to become a detective of obvious questions and find the answers.

Find the answers, the narrative echoed.

Why did the mourners have no faces? Why was the coroner Lucius Malfoy of all people? And most importantly, why was Lucius Malfoy dressed in floating robes of gentle pink?

He tried pushing in to get a closer look at the open coffin, but nobody would budge for him.

In frustration, the Reader tried to change the text to make it easier for the character, but the Reader could not prevail against something written by Someone Else.

'… HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS…'

Like Miss Clavel thought in every animated episode of 'Madeleine', something was not right.

What was going on?

He argued with himself, delaying his actions. Replacing a second with a minute and a minute for several minutes.

The Reader became a bit bored because the plot was starting to go around in circles. Any time now, the Reader would turn and read something else.

The boy sighed. He knew what was happening now and if it all went the right way, then this would be a dream. He knew that now. Everything was a dream. It was all so clear now.

He shouted his catchphrase: 'EXPELLIARMUS!'

His wand fizzled and melted away into nothingness and he looked on with despair. It was a good wand. It wasn't supposed to just melt. The grey robed mourners turned around.

The Reader understands now what is going on. Yes? The Reader noticed that the robes were originally black, and not grey. Was it an ERROR OF TYPING? Or was it really, as the Main Character known as Harry Potter realized earlier, was it really… just a dream?

'… WE WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HIM – ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.'

The dimly-colored robed mourners all moved, one-by-one, to one side, their faces hidden and hard to see. Lucius Malfoy stood there for a few seconds longer, cleared his throat and with a swish of his pink dress, vanished.

For a couple of sentences, no one moved. The Reader reads on with a trickle of forced dread, as the Protagonist of the story stepped forward for his turn to look at the coffin.

He moved forward and let out a loud and capable-of-being-heard gasp.

It couldn't be. That sentence was redundant!

The corpse's features were indistinguishable. And yet, he could tell that they did not belong to who they were meant to belong. Its face was oddly distorted, various parts resembling pixilated people from poor quality computer photographs.

The Reader sighs, wishing that the boy would just wake up. Because as soon as that happens, the Reader will no longer be integrated into the Story.

But even with its demented face, there was no mistaking who the corpse really was. It was… The Antagonist. His eyes suddenly opened and looked up at the boy.

His thin bloodless lips curled open, gaping, showing rows and rows of small jagged teeth, forming a macabre grin.

Suddenly, the corpse uttered a horrible screech which, technically, didn't actually seem to come from him or anywhere near him. It seemed to come from every one of the ebony robed mourners and from afar.

Unlike Lucius Malfoy, he rasped and spoke in underlined non-italic lower case letters. After all, he was special.

'that's all there is, there isn't any more.'

And all the mourners at the funeral, all those strange faceless people, started cackling.

0o0o

Harry James Potter woke up in his dormitory, encased with damp sweat. He looked around searching for something, looking for you. The scar in the middle of his forehead was searing and now, given a reason, he was really afraid.


A/N: Okay, I know you must be really confused, so I'll explain. I tried to make the first chapter – a dream sequence – a parody of comic books. That explains for the whole 'talking in Caps Lock or non Caps Lock' thing. Secondly, I tried to include you, the reader, into the fiction. Yes, I tried to incorporate something outside the realms of fiction into the story. And there's nothing else to say. Try to solve everything else yourself.

And by the way, this story originally had FOURTEEN reviews, but I was dissatisfied because I was running out of ideas. I actually cried from the anger of it all. So I deleted everything, and wrote something in its place. Please make the reviews something more than the number FOURTEEN. Please.