A/N. I've decided to re-post this fic due to problems with lack of space between paragraphs and stuff like that *glares at computer* but anyways, I've made some very minor changes, but it's still the same story.
Life Isn't A Fairytale- One shot
December 4th, 1995.
I'll never forget that day for as long as I live.
I was pacing Gryffindor Tower, chewing my nails, waiting for any news or sign that Harry was still alive.
It had been months since anyone had last seen him. Four months to be exact.
Most people thought him to be dead by now, but I knew he wasn't. I could feel it. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be.
He went missing during the summer before our fifth year. Search parties were called out. They searched everywhere they could think of, every cave, every house, and every forest. But still no sign. It was like he evaporated into the air.
They never did stop searching, although they never found him.
Sirius was devastated. The one thing that mattered to him more than anything else in the world had disappeared before his very eyes. He was set free just before Hogwarts started, but that didn't matter to him, the only reason why he escaped from Azkaban was to be with his Godson, and now he was gone. He was the first to accept that Harry was probably never coming back.
Ron. Well, Ron was the brave one. He tried to be brave, for me. But I could see deep down that he was missing his best friend. He didn't joke anymore, he studied much harder, and his grades soared.
And me? I don't know what happened to me. It's like a part of me went missing, when Harry did. Like a jigsaw when you can't find the most important part that makes up the whole picture. And no matter how hard you look for that piece, you know that it's hopeless looking. He wasn't coming back. I just didn't want to believe it.
They found his body on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. At first, he was unrecognizable. He was so badly beaten up that if it wasn't for the famous lightning- bolt shaped scar on his forehead, no-one would have guessed who it was. Madame Pomfrey tried to save him, but it was useless. She said that a rib had punctured his left lung, and he had choked on his own blood.
That made me laugh. Not ha ha laugh. An insane laugh. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, who had faced death so many times in his life before, choked on his own blood. Pierced by a Basilisk, tied to a gravestone and tortured, fallen fifty feet off of a broomstick, and he choked.
Ron and I were called up to the Hospital Wing where we could say our last Good byes. He looked so peaceful laying there, face pale, lips blue and face set. I carefully stood up and peeled back an eyelid, just so I could see those famous emerald eyes staring back at me, one last time. But the eyes I saw weren't Harry's eyes, they were a deep green, not the sparkly jade I was so used to seeing.
That was when I cracked. I broke down and screamed.
Why did it have to be Harry? Why couldn't it have been someone else? Why does everything have to happen to him? It wasn't fair.
Life's not fair.
Harry knew that though. Life was never fair to him from the minute he was born.
Every year, after everything that had happened to him over the past few months, he would still come back to Hogwarts with a smile on his face.
And I admired him for that.
He was always able to put the past behind him.
But I can't.
Not this time.
I'm in my Seventh year now. Me, Ron, Neville, Lavender, and all the rest of us are graduating to-day, but it won't be the same without Harry. He should be here, with his two best friends, joking around with Ron, and comforting me while I bawl my eyes out, promising that we will still keep in touch.
Now I'm bawling my eyes out because we never will.
The threat of Voldemort still hangs over us like a rain cloud, ready to drop at any minute. And without our savior to save and protect us, what chance do we have of survival?
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
The Hero is supposed to banquish the Baddie. Like the fairytale always goes.
The Hero is supposed to come back home to the fanfares, cheer and congratulations.
The Hero is supposed to marry the beautiful Princess.
The Hero doesn't die. It's not how the fairytale goes.
But life isn't a fairytale.
No matter how much I wish it was.