Goodnight Demon Slayer, Goodnight
"There's a monster that lives 'neath your bed,
Oh for crying out loud it's a futon on the floor,
He must be flat as a board..."
James Potter sat in the nursery, singing softly to the little black haired baby in the crib beside him. His son, Harry James, stared up at him with bright, wide, emerald eyes, Lily's eyes. James smiled and reached down, stroking his sons hair and continuing to sing.
"There's a creature that lurks behind the door,
Though I've checked there 15 times,
When I leave then he arrives Every night..."
Lily probably wouldn't want him singing that song to Harry, but he loved it, and it always served to get the baby to sleep. Sirius had introduced him to Muggle rock music in their third year at Hogwarts and he had been hooked by Voltaire from the very first moment. His music was sensational.
"Tell the monster that lives 'neath your bed,
To go somewhere else instead,
Or you'll kick him in the head..."
Harry giggled in his crib and James smiled fondly at him, a lump rising in his throat when he thought of all the things he'd never see. Dumbledore had told them of the prophecy and they had gone into hiding, but they knew that he would find them, he always found those he searched for. He knew that he and Lily would soon be dead, but he hoped that Harry would survive, and go to live with Remus or Sirius.
"Tell the monster that eats children, that you taste bad,
And you're sure you'd be the worst he's ever had,
If he eats you, don't you fret, just cut him open with an axe,
Don't regret it, he deserved it, he's a cad..."
Harry was now three years old, standing on a stool at the oven with Petunia glaring over his shoulder as he cooked the breakfast. He burnt the third piece of bacon in a row and she huffed. "Get out the way, boy!" she snapped. She pushed him to the side and fell off the stool, landing painfully on his hands and knees, tears sprang to his eyes but she didn't care as he began to wail and she snapped at him again, "Go to your cupboard, boy, get out of my sight." Still bawling, Harry scrambled to his feet and fled to his cupboard, his wails quietening to sobs, he wished for mummy and daddy to come back.
"Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight,
Now it's time to close your tired eyes,
There are devils to slay and dragons to ride,
If they see you coming, hell they better hide,
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
Goodnight my little slayer goodnight..."
Five year old Harry sat by the playground fence, watching Dudley and his friends playing in the sandpit, while he sat and watched, alone. No one wanted to be his friend, because if they did, Dudley would take their toys or push them over then pretend they tripped. Dudley and his friends often beat Harry up, some of them were older than he was, bigger and meaner than Dudley.
"Tell the harpies that land on your bed post,
That at the count of five you'll roast them alive,
Tell the devil it's time you gave him his due,
He should go back to hell, he should shake in his shoes,
Cause the mightiest, scariest, creature is you..."
Eleven year old Harry felt his heart leap when Hagrid told him he was a Wizard. Finally, there was a chance to get away from his relatives, a chance to make friends, a chance to find a home. He always hoped that he was special, that the Dursleys were wrong and somebody did want him. This was the chance he had been waiting for.
"Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight,
Now it's time to close your tired eyes,
There's devils to slay and dragons to ride,
If they see you coming, hell they better hide,
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
Goodnight my little slayer goodnight..."
Fifteen year old Harry was sat in his dormitory, having just lost Sirius and been told the prophecy. It was a kill or be killed situation that would threaten the entire future of the world. He didn't know what to do, he wasn't ready to do this, he couldn't do it, it was far too much. He was just a child, a child who didn't understand the world he was in, he couldn't be what they wanted him to be, he couldn't live up to their expectations. He didn't understand how they could expect him to kill somebody. He wasn't their hero.
"I won't tell you, there's nothing 'neath your bed,
I won't sell you, that it's all in your head,
This world of ours is not as it seems,
The monsters are real but they're not in your dreams,
Learn what you can from the beasts you defeat,
you'll need it for some of the people you'll meet..."
Harry faced Voldemort, red eyes met emerald, their wands were pointed at each other, everyone in the hall held their breath, waiting, watching... Harry had come so far, he had faced so much, and now it was all about to end. As he saw Voldemort suck in breath to cast the spell, he did the same. Their two gets of light crashed together, and then Voldemort was falling...falling...and his scar was burning with utter agony.
"Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight,
Now its time to close your tired eyes,
There are devils to slay and dragons to ride,
If they see you coming, hell they better hide..."
Over a year has passed since Voldemort had fallen. Harry was sat in his study, staring out the window at the sky. It seemed to taunt him with its freedom. Even though he had destroyed Voldemort, everyone wished to control him; his every move and word was watched and recorded by the paparazzi, everyone was looking towards him to lead them, and he didn't want to. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't their hero. He moved to the cabinet on the wall and took out a glass vial of black liquid, he sat down in his favourite armchair, uncorked the bottle and smiled. It had been so long since he'd smiled, really smiled, not the fake mask he wore around the public and his friends. And he drank the poison.
"Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
Goodnight my little slayer goodnight,
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight Goodnight..."
In that home at Godrics Hollow, James Potter stared down at his sleeping son, unaware of the horrors he would face, unaware of the tragic end his son would come to. Unaware that in eighteen years, baby Harry Potter would take his own life.