The Day Harry Potter Died
*NOTE: Yeah. This is MY story, from MY mind, and unless you have something nice to say about it, or even if you have a suggestion on how to improve it, I will NOT listen to you goddamn fucking flamers scorning me because I wrote about how Harry Potter died. You know the title, you know what's going to happen, so if you have a problem with it, don't criticize me- just don't fucking read it! And don't even try any of that "anonymous" shit with me because I won't care what you have to say even if I don't know your name. I'm going to keep this story up for all of the people who want to read it and enjoy it. After all, why should all stories have a happy ending? Doesn't God preach people to dare to be different? Well, I'm sorry I'm not like you. I'm different.
"Are you ready for the big Quidditch match today, Harry?" Ron called to his friend Harry Potter from across the dining table. "They say Hufflepuff has been training really hard this year,"
Harry didn't look up from his plate of untouched pancakes. A million thoughts were going through his mind all at once. I have to win today! I have to do it! If I don't win today, I'll let the whole team down! I can't do that!.
"Harry?"
He shot up, all of his thought erased from his mind. "Yeah?"
"You're not- nervous about today, are you?" Ron asked, a teasing smile on his face.
Harry tried to play it cool. "Nah, I'm not nervous. Not at all. What makes you think that?" I'm not nervous, I just think I'm a failure. I've never lost a game before...how do I know I won't lose this one? I must win!
"You haven't eaten all day," Hermione said, pointing to his plate of pancakes.
"And last night you kept Neville and I awake for hours, talking about how you have to win the match or you'll kill yourself," Ron added, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
That's right. I am going to kill myself, if I don't win today! Harry thought, staring out the window. It was a bright, sunny day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It wasn't too hot, nor too cold. The setting was perfect. But he wasn't.
"Well, maybe I am a bit nervous," Harry said, trying to conceal his worriedness. "Whatever. I'm going to win today. And that's that."
I have to win. I have to!
And he knew he would. He bet his life on it.
Harry's robes flapped in the wind out on the quidditch field. Every row and seat in the stadium was filled to capacity- there was not an ounce of fresh air to be found among the crowded layers. This was the game Hogwarts had been anticipating all year- Hufflepuff had trained very hard and seemed like it would win. But Gryffindor had trained all year long too- and they had never lost a game since Harry arrived at the school. Yes, they have not lost because of me so far, Harry thought to himself as he began to mount his broom. And they won't lose because of me. I have to win! I have to beat the other team!
The players ascended into the air, and the referee blew the whistle. Brooms and children flew everywhere, whirling about like trapeeze artists. Balls of all shapes and sizes hurtled through the air, through hoops and against players. Harry had only one goal in mind- the golden snitch.
Hufflepuff scored a point. Who cares about them, Harry thought as his eyes wandered around the field. All I need is the golden snitch, and the game is mine! But the snitch was nowhere to be seen. I'm going to find it. And I'm going to win! I have to win!
Hufflepuff scored another point. Then Gryffindor. Gryffindor scored two more points, then Hufflepuff scored again. It's got to be around here somewhere. I have to find it! Hufflepuff scored and extra two points, but Harry paid no mind. He had a job to do, and do it he would.
Bludgers flew everywhere, almost knocking Harry off his broomstick twice. You're such a loser, Harry Potter! his mind kept saying. How could you almost fall off your broom, you dumbass?
He caught a glimpse of gold, and rushed toward it. You have to win! You have to be perfect, Harry Potter! If you don't win, you'll let your whole team down! You'll have to kill yourself to save yourself from humiliation! But the golden snitch had disappeared.
The other seeker of the team, Brian Reaper, was close on Harry's tail. He figured that if he followed Harry around, he was bound to catch the golden snitch. Harry caught on to his little scheme, and started to zig-zag. Once again, the golden ball was in his view.
Catch it, you stupid ass! If you let Brian catch it, you will have to kill yourself! You'll let your whole team down! BE PERFECT! ALWAYS PERFECT!
Harry knew his mind was telling him the right things. He dove foward to grasp the golden snitch. It was in his territory, no one could stop him. His fingers grew closer and closer to the fluttering ball that would win him the quidditch cup.
CATCH IT! CATCH IT OR DIE! YOU HAVE TO WIN! YOU HAVE TO!
Ten more points for Hufflepuff. Gryffindor scored two more points. YOU INSIPID FOOL! YOU MUST WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!
He was drawing nearer, nearer...
PERFECT! ALWAYS PERFECT! YOUR PARENTS NEVER LOVED YOU! YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE PARENTS! NO ONE LIKES YOU! YOU'RE REALLY A WOMAN! YOU HAVE TO WIN! WIN, HARRY! YOU'RE EXTREMELY UGLY! IF YOU DON'T WIN, YOU'LL DIE!!!!!!!!!
One more inch, and his fingers would grasp the golden snitch. He leaned in, felt his fingers graze the top. Slowly, he began to wrap his fingers around the ball...
The buzzer rang, and the crowd cheered. The game had ended. Gryffindor had won- Harry had caught the golden snitch! Harry looked down with elation, unrolled his palm to reveal- **gasp** nothing! Nothing was in his hand! He looked up and saw Brian smiling, waving his arms on his broomstick. Brian had caught the golden snitch!
Harry went pale. Hufflepuff proved themselves after all. He heard voices all around him. "Harry, are you okay?" "Harry, what happened?" HARRY, HOW COULD YOU FAIL? He felt sick.
He didn't even stick around for the trophy ceremony. Instead, he rushed back to his dorm and locked the door behind him. How could I? he thought as he rumaged around his dresser drawer. How could I have failed my team? We've never lost! It was all because of me! I'm such a failer! FAILER!
Finally, he found what he wanted. He loaded it, and held it up to his temple. Finger on the trigger, he felt hot tears roll down his face. "Only cowards cry!" he shouted, sniffling. "I failed! I deserve it!"
Slowly but surely, Harry pulled the trigger...
They found him two hours later, lying in a puddle of blood. They tried to recover him as best they could in the infermary, but it was no good. Harry Potter, ladies and gentlemen, had finally died...
*NOTE: Yeah. This is MY story, from MY mind, and unless you have something nice to say about it, or even if you have a suggestion on how to improve it, I will NOT listen to you goddamn fucking flamers scorning me because I wrote about how Harry Potter died. You know the title, you know what's going to happen, so if you have a problem with it, don't criticize me- just don't fucking read it! And don't even try any of that "anonymous" shit with me because I won't care what you have to say even if I don't know your name. I'm going to keep this story up for all of the people who want to read it and enjoy it. After all, why should all stories have a happy ending? Doesn't God preach people to dare to be different? Well, I'm sorry I'm not like you. I'm different.
"Are you ready for the big Quidditch match today, Harry?" Ron called to his friend Harry Potter from across the dining table. "They say Hufflepuff has been training really hard this year,"
Harry didn't look up from his plate of untouched pancakes. A million thoughts were going through his mind all at once. I have to win today! I have to do it! If I don't win today, I'll let the whole team down! I can't do that!.
"Harry?"
He shot up, all of his thought erased from his mind. "Yeah?"
"You're not- nervous about today, are you?" Ron asked, a teasing smile on his face.
Harry tried to play it cool. "Nah, I'm not nervous. Not at all. What makes you think that?" I'm not nervous, I just think I'm a failure. I've never lost a game before...how do I know I won't lose this one? I must win!
"You haven't eaten all day," Hermione said, pointing to his plate of pancakes.
"And last night you kept Neville and I awake for hours, talking about how you have to win the match or you'll kill yourself," Ron added, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
That's right. I am going to kill myself, if I don't win today! Harry thought, staring out the window. It was a bright, sunny day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It wasn't too hot, nor too cold. The setting was perfect. But he wasn't.
"Well, maybe I am a bit nervous," Harry said, trying to conceal his worriedness. "Whatever. I'm going to win today. And that's that."
I have to win. I have to!
And he knew he would. He bet his life on it.
Harry's robes flapped in the wind out on the quidditch field. Every row and seat in the stadium was filled to capacity- there was not an ounce of fresh air to be found among the crowded layers. This was the game Hogwarts had been anticipating all year- Hufflepuff had trained very hard and seemed like it would win. But Gryffindor had trained all year long too- and they had never lost a game since Harry arrived at the school. Yes, they have not lost because of me so far, Harry thought to himself as he began to mount his broom. And they won't lose because of me. I have to win! I have to beat the other team!
The players ascended into the air, and the referee blew the whistle. Brooms and children flew everywhere, whirling about like trapeeze artists. Balls of all shapes and sizes hurtled through the air, through hoops and against players. Harry had only one goal in mind- the golden snitch.
Hufflepuff scored a point. Who cares about them, Harry thought as his eyes wandered around the field. All I need is the golden snitch, and the game is mine! But the snitch was nowhere to be seen. I'm going to find it. And I'm going to win! I have to win!
Hufflepuff scored another point. Then Gryffindor. Gryffindor scored two more points, then Hufflepuff scored again. It's got to be around here somewhere. I have to find it! Hufflepuff scored and extra two points, but Harry paid no mind. He had a job to do, and do it he would.
Bludgers flew everywhere, almost knocking Harry off his broomstick twice. You're such a loser, Harry Potter! his mind kept saying. How could you almost fall off your broom, you dumbass?
He caught a glimpse of gold, and rushed toward it. You have to win! You have to be perfect, Harry Potter! If you don't win, you'll let your whole team down! You'll have to kill yourself to save yourself from humiliation! But the golden snitch had disappeared.
The other seeker of the team, Brian Reaper, was close on Harry's tail. He figured that if he followed Harry around, he was bound to catch the golden snitch. Harry caught on to his little scheme, and started to zig-zag. Once again, the golden ball was in his view.
Catch it, you stupid ass! If you let Brian catch it, you will have to kill yourself! You'll let your whole team down! BE PERFECT! ALWAYS PERFECT!
Harry knew his mind was telling him the right things. He dove foward to grasp the golden snitch. It was in his territory, no one could stop him. His fingers grew closer and closer to the fluttering ball that would win him the quidditch cup.
CATCH IT! CATCH IT OR DIE! YOU HAVE TO WIN! YOU HAVE TO!
Ten more points for Hufflepuff. Gryffindor scored two more points. YOU INSIPID FOOL! YOU MUST WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!
He was drawing nearer, nearer...
PERFECT! ALWAYS PERFECT! YOUR PARENTS NEVER LOVED YOU! YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE PARENTS! NO ONE LIKES YOU! YOU'RE REALLY A WOMAN! YOU HAVE TO WIN! WIN, HARRY! YOU'RE EXTREMELY UGLY! IF YOU DON'T WIN, YOU'LL DIE!!!!!!!!!
One more inch, and his fingers would grasp the golden snitch. He leaned in, felt his fingers graze the top. Slowly, he began to wrap his fingers around the ball...
The buzzer rang, and the crowd cheered. The game had ended. Gryffindor had won- Harry had caught the golden snitch! Harry looked down with elation, unrolled his palm to reveal- **gasp** nothing! Nothing was in his hand! He looked up and saw Brian smiling, waving his arms on his broomstick. Brian had caught the golden snitch!
Harry went pale. Hufflepuff proved themselves after all. He heard voices all around him. "Harry, are you okay?" "Harry, what happened?" HARRY, HOW COULD YOU FAIL? He felt sick.
He didn't even stick around for the trophy ceremony. Instead, he rushed back to his dorm and locked the door behind him. How could I? he thought as he rumaged around his dresser drawer. How could I have failed my team? We've never lost! It was all because of me! I'm such a failer! FAILER!
Finally, he found what he wanted. He loaded it, and held it up to his temple. Finger on the trigger, he felt hot tears roll down his face. "Only cowards cry!" he shouted, sniffling. "I failed! I deserve it!"
Slowly but surely, Harry pulled the trigger...
They found him two hours later, lying in a puddle of blood. They tried to recover him as best they could in the infermary, but it was no good. Harry Potter, ladies and gentlemen, had finally died...