Carry on My Wayward Son
or
Harry Commits Suicide, and Angst is the Result
"What do you want?" asked Petunia Dursley, glaring at the scruffy man on her front walk. Behind him was a pink-haired woman dressed in the most outlandish clothing Petunia would not dare to even look at.
"We're here for Harry," said Remus Lupin.
Petunia seemed confused as she stared at Remus, then back at Nymphadora, before replying.
"Is this some sort of sick joke by you freaks?"
"No. We're here to get Harry."
"Well, in case it wasn't already obvious, you can't have him. It's not like we kept him here."
"You got ride of him?"
"Of course we got ride of him! We let the police take him and everything! Why would we keep him?"
"Why in Merlin's name would the police take him?" asked Tonks.
"Because he's dead?" asked Petunia like they were both idiots.
"He's dead?" Remus' voice was quiet, horrified. "How'd he die?"
"Killed himself. Took one of my good kitchen knives and tore up his arms, up and down. Stabbed himself in the belly a few times, as well. Made a right mess of my bathtub, he did. Least he was decent enough to do it there, rather than in his room." Petunia shook her head, disgusted.
"He killed himself?" whispered Remus.
"Yes! Didn't you know? How could you not know, sending your little freak letters by owl!" Petunia seemed to think for a minute. "Well, I suppose I didn't see any, this summer. Boy sent out his, but it never came back at all. Oh well, what can you do. Was there some other sick joke you wanted to play?"
"Harry's dead?" asked Remus, to stunned to even consider it.
"Yes! He left a note and everything!" Petunia turned into her house, and rummaged through some papers in a cabinet, before pulling out a framed piece of paper. "Framed it and everything. Glad to be rid of the little freak. Means you freaks won't ever come by again. Make a copy of it, and off you go. His things are in the cupboard under the stairs. I assumed you'd need to dispose of them."
Remus was to stunned to do anything but hold the frame. Tonks reached forward, and tapped her wand, duplicating the note, frame and all, and handing the original back to Petunia.
"C-come on, Remus. Let's go."
"H-he can't be dead," murmured Remus. He stumbled forward, pushing open the door and past Petunia. He stomped up the steps, ignoring the cupboard under the stairs, and into the second bedroom. It was clean, with fresh paint and a brand new bed. It was always this clean, but it never looked this… new. A new bed frame and mattress, a new writing desk, a new lamp, a new ceiling light. New everything.
He stood, broken, as he stared into the room that he'd only ever seen from the outside.
"Remus?" asked Tonks from downstairs. "Come on, we… we need to go. We need to tell the others."
Remus nodded, not realizing Tonks wasn't anywhere near him. He walked down the stairs, down into the hall, and Tonks took his hand, running her hand over Remus' head, even as Harry's trunk levitated over to them. They both took hold of the trunk, and the portkey provided by Dumbledore, and disappeared with a bang.
A/N: Not sure where I wanted to go with this one, and there'd be far to much angst. Harry, of course, isn't actually dead. He's got a Horcrux, after all, in the form of Voldemort. Hedwig was headed off to Hermione, with Harry's vault key and a note for the Goblins. He wanted her to take his money and run for Australia. Maybe he even visits her in her dreams after the fact. I wasn't sure on that aspect of it. The goblins, of course, refuse to release the Potter vault because, well, Harry isn't actually dead.
I was thinking the ritual would, eventually, come to pass. The servant would obviously be Dobby, while the enemy would either be LeStrange or a Malfoy. Or maybe Albus still has a bit of Elixir of Life hidden up his sleeve. Whichever has more angst, I guess.
