A/N: Hey guys, although this is not the first time I'm putting up a story...(the old ones deleted due to embarassment) I hope you'll all tolerate my horrible, terrible writings.
Disclaimer: I do not own the books, the characters, only my own ideas.
Harry Potter stepped out of Hogwarts' school gates with deep remorse as he had failed to save everyone once again. He may have proceeded to whine and cry in depression about the unfairness of it all, but hordes of fans suddenly appeared to rip him apart, hoping to get a piece of The Chosen One himself, also causing him to die a much more pathetic death than Voldemort, who was killed by a seventeen year old boy.
Voldemort's soul screamed from the fiery burning pits of Hell down below, cursing Harry, who made his death looked even more pathetic, as he was now The Dark Lord Who Was Killed By A Seventeen Year Old Boy Who Got Killed By Crazy Fans. How terribly troubling this is.
Harry fortunately fainted before any fans tore his dangling bits off.
When he opened his eyes, a familiar voice greeted him. "Harry… My dear boy! Back again?" It was dear Dumbles, standing before him on Platform ¾, he continued, "It would seem that you're staying here for good. Care for some lemon drops? I have plenty." He beckons Harry over with his other hand holding a bright purple pouch with little pictures of stars. Harry stared with wide eyes.
Still unable to comprehend what had just happened, he took a couple of lemon drops from the pouch anyway. But when the tip of his tongue touched the candy, colors exploded upon his eyes.
Then there was nothing.
A/N: Short, I know. And thus the end of the prologue
