Harry Potter and the Way the Series Should Have Ended
(This was the original title, but was too long to fit in the box provided by the site.)
By: Mokona-Midoki
This is my dream ending to Harry Potter. This is really the ending I was hoping and praying for. Seeing as how I didn't get it, I wrote it myself. Hope you find it a joy to read!
This one is for Alex and Renee
(Without you two, I never would have actually written or posted this!)
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on the internet because it would already be published and I'd be living in my dream home.
Hermione stared in shock and horror as she watched the events play out in front of her eyes. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this at all.
One moment, he was dueling the most evil, snake-eyed, power-obsessed, wizard in the entire universe, and the next, Harry Potter, one of her two best friends, and the Boy-who-lived, was falling down dead after taking a killing curse straight to the heart.
The whole world seemed to slow down as he fell, until at last he hit the floor, his bright green eyes dull and his face surprised.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The prophecy had said…
But before anybody could react, before anyone could let out a strangled cry of 'Harry!' or Voldemort began laughing his maniacal laugh he had probably been practicing in front of the mirror, something else happened. Because as Hermione and everyone else shortly found out, Prophecy is a jerk who likes to mess up all the best-laid plans along with her good buddy Karma. But don't blame them. It's how they get their kicks.
The door to the Great Hall suddenly burst open, and everybody had to turn their heads quickly in order to see who was breaking the dramatic tension of the whole dramatic, tension-filled moment.
Neville Longbottom rushed into the Great Hall, face flushed, robes flapping, hair messed up, eyes wide, and for some reason, his mimbulus mimbletonia, pot and all, clutched in his left hand, while his right held his wand.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could so much as get a sound out, he tripped over Harry's dead body. (In Neville's defense it was rather rude of Harry to fall in such a terrible place. I mean, in front of the doors? Really now, people have to get in and out of those! Why, what would this world come too if we all keeled over in front of doors? Everybody else would be tripping over us, while we just lie there like the now useless lumps we are! Harry could have had the decency to at least fall the other way…although…dead people can't really aim…oh well.) Falling over The-Boy-Who-Once-Lived-But-Is-Now-Dead's torso, Neville landed on the floor making the rather undignified and unintelligible sound of "Umagh!" and then joined in with watching everybody else as his mimbulus mimbletonia flew out of his hands, and straight towards the about-to-be-triumphant Dark Lord.
It was rather once again like watching a slow motion movie as it hurtled through the air straight towards Voldemort's rather flat and ugly face. (He really is quite ugly, isn't he? For some reason, no one ever seems to comment on this…)
With a rather dull 'smack!' the cactus-like plant made contact with the Dark Lord's face. The plant then proceeded to enter self-defense mode and promptly sprayed everyone in the nearby vicinity with quite a lot of foul-smelling, stink sap. (Seeing as how only Voldemort, a dead Bellatrix, and a few unnamed Death Eaters were standing anywhere in that general vicinity, they were the only ones to get sprayed.)
The reaction to this was instantaneous, and rather hard to miss, as Voldemort, the most feared wizard of all time began to jerk, twitch, and in general dance about like somebody had poured ants down his pants…or robe…(I don't think Voldemort wears pants…probably considers them 'beneath' him.) all the while screaming in a rather high-pitched and girlish shriek.
"AGH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!!! I'M ALLERGIC, GET IT OFF!!!!"
Seeing as how everybody was too stunned to do anything, they all just stood there and watched the Dark Lord dance around, waving his arms, and screaming like a banshee.
And then, they began to see just how terrible it is to be allergic to stink sap.
As it turns out, being allergic to stink sap is rather like being the Wicked Witch of the West after she gets hit with a bucket of water. To put it simply, Voldemort was melting. (Well…it was actually more of a shriveling-up, melting at the same time, but who's keeping track of that anyway?)
They all watched in rather morbid fascination as he melted/shriveled. (It wasn't really as if anybody wanted to do anything, and anyway they're wizards! They don't carry EpiPens on them!) In less then a minute, Voldemort was nothing more than a pile of robes, gooey dust, and rubber ducky boxers on the floor.
There was a long moment of silence. A very long moment.
Finally, Neville spoke up. "Is he dead?"
"Well," Hermione slowly began, "Seeing as how he just…melted…then, yes?"
In the ensuing chaos that followed, Neville was lifted up and carried off by joyous wizards along with his mimbulus mimbletonia, Harry was trampled on a bit, and Filch came along to mop up the remains of the once Dark Lord.
And so, dear readers, that is how Neville Longbottom inadvertently, quite on accident, and technically with Harry's help (As he probably wouldn't have thrown his precious plant at the Dark Lord of his own accord), killed Lord Voldemort.
THE END
Footnotes:
Isn't irony a wonderful thing?
This is how it should have happened. No dying and then coming back to life. That's just annoying. And the best part is, is that if this really was how it happened, I would have fallen off my bed laughing my head off while everybody else in the world would have been swearing at the book like sailors. I think that's hilarious.
Please Read and Review, I'd love to know what you think. Whether you loved it, hated it, laughed until you cried, or found it a complete waste of time, go on and say it, I'm all ears.