It is really dark in here. And fluffy. Thank Merlin that it's almost over. Just a few more hours and I'll be free. I can't believe I talked myself into this. If they knew what I was doing, I'd be in deep shit. As it stands though, no one suspects a thing. So far the plan has gone perfectly.
Less than a week ago, the Wizarding World was shocked to learn that the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice had a fatal accident when a spell he was experimenting on backfired. As far as they knew, Harry Potter was a war-weary but still young and optimistic wizard. It had been rumored that he was studying to become an Auror or an Unspeakable for months after Voldemort was killed. Bastards. Always out for a story. Well, not for long. A tragic, but boring death should ensure that my name is quickly forgotten.
Once my mind was made up, it was laughably easy to set the dominos up. Now I just have wait for them to stop falling. First I had to ensure that everyone knew I was mucking about in spell crafting. Then, obviously, replicate the effects of an accident. The idea was stolen straight from Shakespeare. A complicated potion that emulates death for a period of time before harmlessly wearing off. But that alone isn't enough. If I just keeled over and died, there'd be an investigation. My friends would probably kill themselves researching why just for closure. So, not only did I have to have the story, I had to have the wounds to corroborate it. I had to intentionally "accidentally" bollocks it up. One obscure, overpowered spell combined with a mispronunciation created a massive explosion. Massive, but not fatal. Just minutes prior, I took the first potion. I could feel my pulse slow down and my heartbeat weaken. As advertised, I maintained full consciousness. The secondary effect of the potion - a real bitch and a half to combine the two. It took months of testing, but thankfully I had the spellcrafting cover to buy me time and solitude. Thankfully, both the potion and the explosion worked perfectly. It's a shame I wasn't able to include a pain potion into the mixture. Massive burns and lacerations cover my torso now, along with a roaring headache from where I was thrown into the wall. Thankfully Wizards are buried with their wands, I've spent all morning healing what I can in the dark, but the pain is still there. But it's nothing compared to the psychological trauma of listening to my best friends mourn for me for the second time.
When they heard the explosion, they came running. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron and Hermione instantly burst into tears and started running diagnostic spells on me. I initially feared they would find something, but their increased sounds of distress confirmed my success. I briefly wondered why Ginny wasn't reacting before I remembered that she didn't really care about me as a person. She just saw me as a hero. A celebrity. The Boy-Who-Lived. What a cunt. She was probably blown away that the Savior of the Wizarding Dicks could die in such a feather-brained fashion. When the initial shock wears off the crocodile tears would start. Thankfully I won't be around for that.
Ah yes, the future. Finally looking up. Sure, I'll miss my friends and pseudo-family, but a fresh start will be fantastic. I just have to wait until the service is over, and I can get out of this bloody coffin. Bloody HELL this thing is hot. It's taking all of my concentration not to try to break out of this this. The bumps aren't helping. Judging by the bumps, I'm on my way towards my grave as we speak. I wonder where they'll bury me. Probably in Godric's Hollow. All anyone ever thinks about is my past. I can't wait to forget and look towards the future. I've got it all planned out.
As a wizard, it's incredibly easy to disguise oneself. Glamours, masks, hoods, caps, hats, cloaks, all standard and socially acceptable. I should have no problem reentering the Wizard World for a casual romp any time I like. Especially since I have the funds. The goblins were initially wary due to the fact I'm one of only four people to break into Gringotts and make it out alive. But I convinced them that as Head of House Black I was entitled to the contents of Bellatrix Lestrange's vault, so it wasn't really stealing so much as an unauthorized preemptive withdrawal. This didn't soften them up too much, but promising the entire contents of the bitch's vault did. All for one small price - the contents of my vault (minus a withdrawal and account closure fee of course) and the secrecy of my being alive. Once I had the coins and cash, I simply put them in an expandable wallet, inspired by Hermione's from the horcrux hunt. Then buried them at an undisclosed location, alongside my cloak and a wizard's tent similar to the one we used at the world cup and for the horcrux hunt.
All that's left is to wait until it's time. Then I can party it up in the muggle style. Any city, any country. The whole world is open. Then maybe I'll explore how other wizards and witches live in other places besides Britain, that could be fun. Especially the witches. I wonder if there's some way to expedite the process, just find casual flings with no strings attached. I know the muggles have some sort of dating service, I wonder if there's a magical version. Oh hey, the bumps have stopped.
It's nearly go time. I move my mouth around and find a small capsule beneath my tongue, then situate it between my molars. This second potion should fool anyone that gets close enough, all I have to do is bite down, let the potion slide down my throat, and it should kick in within minutes. I fully expect an open casket, can't expect the Wizarding World to pass on its last chance to gawk at me. Muffled voices approaching. Being moved. I'm still now. Not opening the casket? Yeah, that's a preacher speaking. This is going to take a while.
Big speech.
Being lowered. Already? The crying crescendos, I can hear the fizzles of what I'm sure are sparks being shot into the air. That didn't take as long as I thought, probably less than half an hour. It's go time. I spit the capsule out and pocket it, didn't need it after all.
I apparate six feet up and fifty feet away. I toss a quick disillusionment spell on myself and start walking through the trees in the direction I hear sobbing. Breaking through into a closing I confirm my guess as I recognize the cemetery in Godric's Hollow. Instead of a massive crowd, I see only a dozen or so people and I know every one of them. Mostly redheads and one brunette. I recognize a lot of people from the DA. All hugging and sobbing. Shit, I'm such an asshole. Why did I think this was a good idea. While staring I notice that the minister gets into a horse drawn carriage and tells the driver to get moving. Dumbfounded I stare as the hearse bounces away. My hearse. I look back at the group. They're still hugging and crying and staring at my grave. Fuck, I am such a dick. I wanted my freedom but I didn't want to hurt anyone. I knew it would, but I didn't expect it to hurt so much. I figured they'd be too absorbed in their own grief to focus too much on me. I might have been wrong. I notice that Ron and Hermione are staring at my headstone and hugging each other sideways so intensely it looks as if they're joined at the hip. At least they'll have each other. I'm confident the trio will do just fine as the duo eventually. Sure, maybe they'll fight more now that they don't have me to rant to and decompress with, but surely now that they don't have to shield me from unwanted attention they can find other friends.
Then I notice Ginny. Instead of the tantrum and theatrics I expected she's just gazing into the air near my grave. I notice a slight tremble in her hands, but that's it. A part of me wants to run to her and apologize, but my doubt keeps me motionless. I watch them for what feels like hours. I notice the sky darken. Finally, Mr. Weasley pulls out what looks like a muggle coin. and they all hold hands.
Then they're gone in a blink of the eye.
I don't move for a long time. The charm falls away and the Sun sets. I really messed up. But the worst damage is done, to come back now would probably be the worst time. But I don't want to commit to leaving. What should I do...
I apparate to my cache in the woods. It's not far from Godric's Hollow. I figured this would be the place they picked. I levitate the area of ground I know my stuff is buried then go to my charmed bag and summon out a Galleon. It's not just any galleon though, as a careful examination of the obviously impossible printed date could tell you. I stare at it for a while before making up my mind. I pull out my wand, concentrate, and the spell completes. The date now reads just one word.
"Sorry"