Harry Potter and
the Dream
He was finally fighting Voldemort to the death. This was the battle that determined the fate of the world. If Voldemort defeated Harry, he would never die because Harry was the only one who even stood a chance against him. Voldemort would take over the wizarding world and purge it of all descendents of muggles as well as any who stood in his path. Harry had to kill him, or (possibly and) die trying.
Up to this point, Harry's life had gone pretty well, considering he either had to die at the hands of the most evil wizard of all time or commit murder sometime in the future. He had managed to get into all the N.E.W.T. classes required for becoming an auror (yes, even potions: Snape for some mysterious reason coughDumblecoughdorecough had lowered his acceptance level to an E, so Harry managed to take two more years of potions). It was the end of seventh year, and Harry was excelling in all his classes, and the prospects of his becoming an auror were looking good. He had actually started dating Ginny in his sixth year because he finally realized he liked her. And Ron and Hermione were, well, not quite dating yet, but they were at least beginning to see they were meant for each other. All in all, if Harry managed to destroy Voldemort, it looked like he would have a fairly happy life.
That was the problem: if he won against Voldemort. Now how was that going to work? A seventeen-year-old boy, still in school, seemingly with no incredible powers, had to kill a man who was seventy one years old (A/N: Okay, you can tell I'm obsessed when I figure out exactly how old Voldemort is. Oh, and Dumbledore is around 150 years old, and wizards live longer than muggles, and Crookshanks is part Kneazle and Ginny's real name is Ginevra, and I'll stop now. Where was I?) and had spent the majority of his lifetime building up his dark powers, and who had killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of people mercilessly, and who might not even be alive enough in the first place to die. But, Harry still had to kill him. This was going to prove interesting.
Harry was just dodging another spell as Voldemort threw it at him, when he heard a sharp rapping coming from somewhere to his right. He whirled around, but there was nothing there but blank stone walls. Voldemort took this chance to aim a killing curse at Harry. Harry tried to shield himself as best he could behind a pillar, but there was no way he could not avoid it. He had failed. Voldemort had killed him, and the world had no future. But as the spell made contact with his body, he heard Aunt Petunia's voice yelling at him to get his lazy self out of bed. Harry wondered if everyone heard such strange things when they were about to die. Abruptly, Harry woke up and bolted out of bed, hitting his head on the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs. He was ten years old again, and it was Dudley's birthday.
What a strange dream, he thought to himself. I dreamed seven years of my life! I bet Ron would find it amusing. Then a sudden thought him. I don't know Ron. He probably doesn't even exist! And Hermione! Who's going to help me with my homework? And no Ginny! But I love her! And no Hogwarts even. I have nowhere to go, nothing to do. What will become of me?
And so the great Harry Potter went through life as a nonentity, going through public school and becoming a realtor and marrying a completely normal woman named Jenny. Certainly he missed his friends from Hogwarts, but, after all, they did not even exist. Every now and then, though, he remembered the dream he had had the night before Dudley's eleventh birthday, and what his life would be like had the dream been true.
A/N: Please review, even if you hate it. I want to know if I should write other stories. I'm really sorry it's so short, but that's really all there is to say. This story will not be continued. That's just all there is to it. It's just an interesting idea. Poor Harry. Oh, my friend Lee Trynace (that's her penname) has another version of this, but I don't like the ending as much. She was too nice to Harry. Heehee.