Hello, lovely fanfiction people! This is my first ff, so forgive me if it is, indeed, awful? It's also very short, and I wrote it three minutes ago on a whim, so apologies. Obviously, Harry Potter is not mine, so please don't sue me.
Enjoy!
Harry's scar had not pained him in nineteen years.
All was well.
Twelve year old Harry Potter opened his eyes and smiled weakly through the pain emanating from his arm, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of his cupboard. It had all turned out alright in the end, hadn't it? Harry had married Ginny, Ron had married Hermione, and Voldemort was dead. That was good.
Wincing silently, the young boy cradled his broken arm to his chest, years of experience telling him to be quiet lest Vernon wake, hear his cries, and punish him for being too loud.
Sometimes, Harry wished that he was the famous Harry Potter, rich and powerful, so he could prevent Vernon from ever hurting him again.
Sometimes he wished he was like Hermione, with intelligence unparalleled, so he could find a way out of the cupboard under the stairs, and out of Privet Drive, without the police bringing him back.
Sometimes he wished he was like Professor Dumbledore, with power and wisdom, so he could teach Vernon and Dudley that what they were doing was bad. That it hurt.
And sometimes, though it was very often, he wished he was like Sirius, and Remus, and Tonks, and Cedric, and Dobby, and even Lord Voldemort; sometimes he wished he was dead.
Little Harry Potter was, unfortunately, none of these things. He was just a broken boy in a darkened, dirty cupboard who was waiting for the sun to rise so he could start another day in hell. And now Harry Potter the Wizard's story was over. There was nothing more to tell. The curtains had closed.
So, with dawn approaching, the sharp pain in his arm refusing to cease and the tiny little bedroom seeming even smaller than usual, Harry closed his eyes and began to imagine, once more, the life he wished, wished, wished, he had.
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.