An edited version. After reading this story, a year or two after writing. I nearly as the Chinese web novels that I sadly read, state, vomited blood, at the errors.
It was anger, hatred, and revenge that drove me. And it was not as if I was suicidal, it just happened to be that I have had an angry, psychotic, megalomaniac trying to kill me, and slowly killing those that I love. So, you can't blame me for doing this…right?
I mean, you would do it too?
Please tell me you would? Even if you have to lie to me, because I am scared right now. Heh, I think I have a drizzle of some pee dripping down my leg. You see, that is how scared I am, as I walk towards the place that I know Voldemort stands.
Merlin's beard, I think Voldemort must be every bit as cowardly as I feel at the moment, having a name that means: flight from death. I laughed.
I mean, why does nobody else see it that way, his name, and his creation of the horcrux, it all screams: Mommy, I don't want to die!
But nope, nobody sees it that way, they say to me, "Harry, you are ever so foolish if you believe that he is afraid to die…not even Dumbledore was able to kill him."
Needless to say, that was Hermione Granger, my best friend. Well, Ron used to be my best friend; until he ditched us, then one night, he came back, cold, soaking wet, and trying to stab me with the Sword of Gryffindor.
Nearly got me too; but I downed him with a quick left hook, that I combined with an uppercut.
Damn Dumbledore with his putter outer…. Apparently, Ron had been listening to us having sex, for weeks, and let me tell you. Ron, no matter how drenched he was, that night, could not compare to how wet Hermione started to get, when she was truly horny, waiting for my cock.
C'mon, do you blame me, a hormonal young boy of 17, hadn't gotten any since his last rendezvous with Ginny, and in my defense, Ginny and I had been broken up; but it was consensual…actually, if Ron hadn't broken down her door, after three simple thrust, I wouldn't have been blue balling it for so long, and if he hadn't left us, because he couldn't have mommy's room service. Then maybe things wouldn't have developed that way—sorry Mrs. Weasley, I love you like a mother, but you have spoiled that boy rotten with your lovely cooking.
Ah…who am I kidding? I was a horny hormonal teenager, and Hermione was a lonely, unsatisfied bookworm. Let me tell you, what you can get a sexually repressed bookworm to do in the sack, is amazing—I bet Ron never even knew she was flexible enough to put her legs behind her head.
Damn…I'm getting hard while thinking about it, and I am only a few minutes from my final showdown with Voldemort. Here, let me adjust myself while walking, I have a pair of Dudley's old pants on, so I think that should help me hide it.
I blushed, as the many people standing here waiting for the final showdown to begin, stare at me, as I walk to my destination, pitching a tent, and trying to hide it…well, I tried; but so many of the guys are laughing at me; while the girls blush appreciatively. I can picture it now. Headline: the cock-who-lived, or maybe: the boy-who-got-it-up.
Morgana no! How many offers am I going to get for being the wizarding spokesperson for Viagra…now I'm scared. Maybe I should think about letting old Voldy off me, just so I don't have to face the shame.
Then again, I thought, idly roaming my eyes through the crowd. Maybe I could work this to my advantage.
The thing is, I could live with all of the shit I could get from these people, because not all; but quite a few of these girls I see, are looking at me like a treat. I mean, don't get me wrong. But my first time with Ginny—who seemed to have had a lot of experience…courtesy of Dean. And she was my first. But this year, she seems to split her time between Neville and Seamus—I learned this from seeing her dot on the Marauder's Map, in broom closets with them. So we are not getting back together.
Oh well, honestly, her novelty lost its appeal on me after I set her picture next to my mother's…I vomited afterwards. That was the first night I took Hermione.
You may be thinking now, what scum I am, after all…I am with Hermione now. Right?
Wrong. We only felt like getting rid of stress, and neither of us wanted any strings attached. Could you blame us though? Month after month, hiding, planning, feeling betrayed by our best friend. We were knit tight, and felt as if with one little pull, we might be wrapped up in a ball, too knotted and unable to be unwound…we needed this.
Finally, I made it to the spot where my adversary lie in wait. I heaved out a deep breath, that I did not even know I held.
"Tom," I said.
"Ah, if it isn't little Harry. Have you finally come to die by my hand. I admit, I thought you dead earlier…but, no matter. This just allows me the joy of killing you again."
"Yes Tom," I said as I smiled. And it irritated him. He hates that name. Good, anger from this man is good, he can't control it.
As long as it was from him, and him alone, I need not worry of death…I think. That was what Dumbledore told me. Though pain was a different matter all together. The angrier I make him, the sloppier he gets. I shuddered at the thought.
"Though, you have to admit Tom. I; unlike you…am not a coward."
He halted.
"What do you mean…a coward?" he asked me with a sinister smile.
Slowly I sighed before saying, "Listen Tom…I don't know who taught you your vocabulary…" and with a shake of my head I said, "but they obviously did you no justice, if you do not even know such a basic word…and no…it has nothing to do with cows."
I could see the fury grow in his eyes, with more and more intensity. Just a little more, I thought.
"Fine," I said. "I will explain it to you."
"I figured it out from your name. doesn't it just mean you are running from death?"
"Look at me Tom. How many times have you killed me…and yet here I stand." I said, as I turned around and provoked him.
It was then that I'd heard it, so I braced myself.
"Avada Kadavra," I dropped lifelessly to the floor.
He turned around to the silence of the yard. Gloating.
Honestly, everybody tells me about how cunning this man is. Yet he falls for it like an idiot every time. Virtually no time elapses between my death and resurrection.
"Avada Kadavra," I say, pointing my wand at his back, still lying on the ground. A victorious smile spreads across my lips.
I poured every bit of my hatred into that one spell, and here I now lay, smiling up into the sky, the victor.