The names of the characters in the story belong to J.K. Rowling.
Harry Potter and The End
The fair-haired boy gently took pale boy's hand in his, wondering if his mate would ever awaken from his coma. It's been two years. 730 days. 104 weeks the blond thought to himself. He sighed while running his free hand through his soft locks. Every single day for the past two years, that's every day for the past 730 days, he visited his close friend in the hospital, hoping and praying his friend will open his eyes.
The silver-blue eyes of the blonde looked sadly upon his friend. He began speaking to him in a solemn voice, unlike other days where he spoke happily, about schools, girls—the typical aspects of a teenager's life.
"Yesterday, your cat and dog died. Your parents tell others the deaths were due to old age, but I believe that they missed you an awful lot. They were in pain because you weren't there." He added, "Just like I still am."
He looked for any sad response from the bloke. Nothing. You arse! Wake up, will you?! the blonde mentally said.
The pale boy simply breathed calmly. The blonde snickered, looking at the slimy bogey that was leaking it's way out of his friend's nose. Releasing their yoked hands, he moved to a table with Kleenex on it. He grabbed a few from the box and went to clean up the chap before his parents would come and visit their one and only son. They, too, never gave up hope that Harry would one day awaken.
As the golden boy reached his hand to his friends face, he immediately ceased his actions after hearing a few whimpers. What? He observed his mate more closely and—
"I'm going to kill you! Die, Vold—Ahh!"
The blonde reflexively stepped back as Harry began thrashing about in the bed.
"Harry," the blond yelled. "Wake up! Wake up! Please, open your eyes!" Please!
As if the gods were listening to him, Harry's eyelids opened at a snail's pace. He attempted to sit up, but his body was sluggish, and he felt as though he'd had an out of body experience.
"Bloody hell," let out the blonde as he stared at his friend in disbelief. "You're awake!" Shocked, he remained in place.
"I can't see," Harry said.
"Oh!" The blonde immediately went to the table and opened the drawer, revealing a pair of round-framed spectacles. "Here you are, mate," he said excitedly while handing Harry his much-needed aid. "Do you need help sitting up?"
"Yes, please," Harry said.
With that, the muscular blonde placed a hand under his mate's back and lifted his hand up.
"Your parents are going to hit the ceiling when they see you!"
Parents? thought Harry confusedly. And where have I heard that voice before? Completely perplexed, Harry immediately placed the spectacles on his face to face the speaker. Eyes downward at first, he saw the loose Nike shirt of the speaker; shifting his eyes ever so slowly upwards, he saw a smile, then—
His heart stopped. "Death Eater!" he screamed frantically. "Help! Hagrid! Professor McGonagall!"
Harry saw the blonde approaching and twisted his body in every direction, searching for his wand. To his horror, his wand wasn't anywhere in sight. Suddenly, he felt a strong grip push his shoulders onto the bed, fettering him there.
"Bullocks, Harry, what's wrong with you?!"
For an instance, Harry's eyes emanated fear before glaring daggers. He proceeded with, "Shove off, Malfoy! Where is Voldemort and his other henchman?"
Draco, bewildered, quietly went out the door. Harry, drained from any strength, laid back down in bed. What the hell? he thought. Where am I? What's Malfoy going off about my parents? And, why was he actually looking, friendly?
Harry groaned until he heard two familiar voices that he thought he'd never hear again.
"Harry!" they said in unision.
His initial shock from the exclamation triggered his body to automatically sit up.
"Mum?" he asked looking at the woman in the hospital room. "Dad?" he questioned, looking to the right where there stood a tall man with brown hair and spectacles.
"That's right, son. We're here. We're here." James Potter went to the side of the bed and hugged his son. "It's so good to see you," he said shakily.
Harry felt more arms engulf him. "Harry," his mother sobbed quietly. "Harry, Harry. We always knew you'd come out of your coma."
Coma? he asked himself.
Slowly, and trying to not offend his parents, he pulled away from his parents.
"What are you talking about? What happened?"
His parents looked at each other. Looking past them, Harry took notice of Draco Malfoy. But why is he here? And why are my parents alive?
"Malfoy, you bloody git! What kind of spell is this?!" bellowed Harry, beginning his invective with Draco.
Draco stepped forward, nearing the Potters.
"He's been daft every since he awoke," Draco said.
Frustrated, and extremely extremely barking, Harry yelled, "What the hell is going on here? Why are you guys here? Malfoy, you evil ferret, where's Hermione and Ron?"
The three visitors glanced at each other.
"Honey," Mrs. Potter started, "Hermione and Ron, you see, dear, they…"
"They what?" inquired Harry.
Mr. Potter spoke up for his hesitant wife. "They're dead, Harry."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Liar!" he yelled at his father, akin to the time he yelled at Voldemort, who said he could bring back Harry's parents in return for the sorcerer's stone.
"Harry! Don't speak to your father like that," scolded Mrs. Potter.
Shaking his head, Harry kept reiterating, "No, no, no…." like a mantra. "This does not make sense…."
"Honey, don't you remember what happened?"
Sighing, Harry decided to see what these imposters had to say.
"Two years ago, you were holding a broom which had a metal handle. Out of nowhere came a lightning bolt that struck the metal and in turn struck you—hard. You've been in a coma ever since that day."
Harry just kept shaking his head. Is this true? It can't be. Can it? What about Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, the Death Eaters, Hagrid, Ron, Hermione, Voldemort? What about his past 6 years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Those happened, right?
"How did Ron and Hermione die, then?" he asked haughtily, wondering what lies he would procure from them.
"Old age, dear," his mother told him.
He sneered. "What are you talking about?" He retorted, "'Old age'? They were the same age as me!"
Lily and James bore confused and worried countenances as they looked at each other.
"Um, honey," Mrs. Potter began softly, "Hermione and Ron, you remember them, right?" She took her purse off from her shoulder, placed it at the foot of the bed, and removed her wallet from it. Pulling out a photo from her wallet, she showed it to her son. "Remember Ron? He was our Black Labrador; Hermione was our large ginger cat. Remember when we took this picture?" she asked, hopeful.
Harry simply stared at the picture. This is not possible. This is not true! Harry abjured this new information. And why the bloody hell is Malfoy in this picture?
"Why is Malfoy in the picture?"
"Well, Harry," said his father, "You and Draco have been friends every since you were tots. I've known his father for years; we're great friends. This picture was taken three years ago on your birthday. Remember?"
Malfoy and me? FRIENDS?! This cannot be right! No, no…
"No. No! This can't be true!" Could it? "How do I know you are telling me the truth, hm? This could just be another scheme by Lord Voldemort!"
Once again, the three visitors looked at each other, deeply concerned for the frenzied boy.
"Who is this Lord Voldemort, son?"
"He murdered you two! He massacred people just because they were muggles or mudbloods! He killed the people I loved!" Now, Harry's face was tinged with pink from his outburst.
"Sweetie, I think you should rest." She smiled sweetly at him and said, "You sure do have an imaginative mind. You must tell us what happened in your subconscious while you were in a coma. But, that, will be done after you rest. So rest, and don't worry about this Lord Voldemort character. There is no such person. Everybody you love is safe." Her sweet smile could do nothing but comfort her son.
Lily's words soothed Harry's nerves and he actually felt a tad convinced that what these people said was true. She kissed his forehead.
"Sleep, dear. We'll soon you in a while."
His father and mother waved goodbye and exited the room. Draco still remained, though.
He walked close to Harry's bed.
"So," he said slowly, "how's it going?" Gosh, I'm lame thought Draco. 'How's it going?' Sheesh. I'm taking five advanced placement classes and this is the best sentence I can devise?
"Oh, fantastic," drawled Harry sarcastically. He exhaled deeply. "So, we're friends?"
"No shit, Sherlock. That lightning bolt must have truly hit you hard and fried your memory cells or something."
This was plain awkward for Harry. His thought his mind was set: he felt that Draco Malfoy, and all Malfoys for that matter, were his enemy; now, here he's told the Potters and Malfoys are friends. Actually, they were not just friends,they were great friends. The situation caused Harry's head to ache as well as take his mother's advice and rest.
"I'm going to rest, Malf—Draco. We'll talk more later." Harry removed his glasses and placed them on a tabletop nearby. He laid down on his back and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to overcome him. First, actually, he waited to hear footsteps heading towards the down, but he never did heard them.
Peeking his eyes open, he saw Malfoy's aristocratic face staring at him.
Harry groaned, not feeling like talking.
"Can you handle being alone?" Draco asked in a kind voice.
"Why wouldn't I be able to?"
"Well, you're not in your right mind. I don't want you having nightmares about that Lord Voldemort and screaming like a baby. I'm not going to let you be a nutter!"
Narrowing his eyes and becoming defensive, Harry replied, "I don't scream like a baby."
Draco chuckled. "Yeah, sure you don't." Becoming staid, he continued, "But seriously, Harry, if you need someone here, I'll stay."
Harry smiled. This wasn't so bad after all. His parents were alive, Hermione and Ron weren't human friends, rather they were animal companions. Draco was a caring friend, not a callous enemy. There were no Death Eaters, no war, no Voldemort.
He continued smiling, causing Draco to ask, "Why so happy all of a sudden?"
Giving Draco a lopsided grin, which resembled the one the imagined Ronald Weasley bore, he responded, "Nothing. It's just this life seems better than the one my unconscious state had created. In the world I lived in for the past two years, which was six years in my head, Lord Voldemort tried to murder me whenever he had the chance. I'm relieved that my life and my friends and family are safe."
"Damn, you really do have an imaginative mind, Har. So, do you want—" Draco ceased talking as he saw Harry shake his head 'no.'
"Thanks, Draco, but I'm good. I'm really good," spoke Harry with a huge grin on his face.
"Alright. Well, Dr. Joke will be in later to check on you. Oh, and I'll bring you sweets later!"
"Alright, alright! Get going. I think you should rest too!"
Thirty minutes later, Harry heard his door open. Must be the doctor thought Harry. He stirred a bit to indicate he was awake.
"Good evening, Harry. My name is Doctor—"
"Joke. I know, Draco told me earlier," said Harry, still on his back, eyes closed.
The doctor chuckled to himself. "Actually, Harry, I think Draco was attempting to make a joke by saying my name was Doctor Joke."
Eh? I don't see what's funny.
"You see, Harry," the doctor said slowly, "my name is not Doctor Joke, it's…"
Harry awaited the answer, but after a few seconds without hearing a response, he opened his eyes to check on the doctor. His eyes were met by a man with dark-brown hair, hairline parted on the right side of his head. Harry gasped and his eyes opened wide as he realized the doctor looked just like the inimical Tom…
"Riddle," continued the doctor just before he thrusted a pillow over Harry's face, smothering him to no end.
Doctor Riddle laughed coldly, quietly. Before Harry's body became flaccid, all he could think was no, no no.
Tom Marvolo Riddle smirked evilly while removing the pillow from Harry Potter's face. He had finally killed the boy-who-lived.
This is something I typed up yesterday and finished editing as best as I could this morning. I don't know how I came to write this. Being the lame/corny person I am, I thought a couple years ago that it would be (sorta) funny (cuz HP fans would be sooooo disappointed/sad) if JKR came out with the seventh book and said HP's wizard life was just a dream. This story was way different from what I originally thought.
Review please! I love to read comments!