Chapter 8: Thriller

Harry brushed crumbs from his face and set forth on a new mission… to acquire a nice cold glass of milk. His friends dejectedly followed in the hopes that some event of fate would demolish Harry's laziness. But they all knew too well that something like that wouldn't happen anytime soon, for by the time they had stepped out of the building it had already begun.

The music was louder than ever, threatening to rupture their eardrums. They could even hear a dog howling in the distance. It was when they turned the corner did they find the source of this strange country western music. The musician himself was sitting on the front porch of a rundown shack across the street. He wore a cowboy hat over his flaming red hair, and chewed furiously on a stalk of wheat.

"That's some fancy picking there, Ron," Harry complimented his friend. Ron stopped playing the banjo and looked up.

"Really? You think so?"

"Darn tootin'," Harry insisted with a casual smile. "What're you playing for?"

"Well, I quit my job at McDonald's because I was too talented for that sort of vocation," Ron began to explain. "So, I was unemployed for awhile. Then this scary guy named Zwitter approached me with the task of playing some quality music for some big shindig he and his friends are going to put together."

"Is that so?" Harry went on, as though it were any ordinary day. "That's really something, Ron."

It was at this time that Ron took on a stern expression and looked at his best friend dead in the eye. "The Apocalypse is coming, Harry." He tried to hint to spark some sense into the boy prodigy.

"Yeah, I know."

Ron seemed shocked by his apathetic tone towards the matter. "You do?"

"It's just a bunch of overblown nonsense."

"I hate to break it to you, Harry, but if you don't do something everyone will die horribly."

"What can I do?" Harry asked, sounding a little pissed off. "I'm just a boy – a helpless boy who has lived a miserable life and now I'm ready for it to come to a conclusion. I'm ready for the epilogue now, Ms. Rowling."

"You're such an emo whore!" Ron exclaimed. "It's always got to be about you doesn't it?" He began to mock Harry's self-pity. "Oi, everybody! Look at me! I'm a little emo bitch you doesn't give a rat's ass whether you all die or not!" He snapped out of the role and glared virulently at the boy who used to be his friend. "Do you see how selfish that sounds?"

"I guess you're right, for once," Harry seemed to have shed his egocentric personage and took on a more heroic one. The others smiled when they witness this blessed metamorphosis with utmost optimism. "By George! I'm going to go out there and fight this accursed cult. Beware Illuminati for it is I, The Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die, and you have no comprehension of the extent of my unparalleled wrath!" Out of nowhere he had obtained a gleaming sword and thrust it into the sky with emphasis on his noble vow. Brilliant light filtered out between stormy clouds and shone like a heavenly light upon the hero emerged. The true prodigy within Harry had finally awakened and was battle ready, staring deep into the pits of all desolation. And challenged this insolent band of infidels that dared to call themselves the ultimate cult. His eyes shone with radiant flaming purity that threatened to rip apart the blackened hearts of any evildoer. Apocalypse be damned, Harry had the freaking parental guidebook for raising hell.

Hearing this dare, Zwitter rose up from the abyss to meet this champion. The demonic cultist was accompanied by every minion of the Illuminati, including every creature converted within that day: every zombie, every criminal, and every homicidal maniac ever born. Legions upon legions of monsters marched up from the pit to shake hands with destiny. They covered the entire surface of the earth, until the world appeared to have darkened out – even the sky was cluttered with masses of hellish soldiers ready upon order to rip apart human flesh slowly and painfully. They gnawed their teeth at Harry in spite and utmost hatred, a promise of what they would do it him if he attempted to wage war against hell itself.

As if that weren't enough, they had their own theme song. Out of the pit, Voldemort followed and was accompanied by flashy back-up singers. Lightning flashed in the sky above, thunder roared, and a pack of wolves howled menacingly at the moon in the distance. That was when the melody kicked in full gear.

"It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark,
Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart,
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it,
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes,
You're paralyzed!"

The back-up singers started dancing behind Voldemort as he belted out his voice, which was to everyone's surprise rather high-pitched. It sounded more like the voice belonged to a lifelong pop star rather than a dark lord. And despite all of their fear and hate for the forces of evil, they couldn't help but admit that the song was very catchy.

"'Cause this is thriller, thriller night,
And no one's gonna save you from the beast about strike,
You know its thriller, thriller night,
You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight."

Harry was overcome with a strange sensation in his foot. When he looked down he stared in horror as his foot tapped to the beat.

"You hear the door slam and realize there's nowhere left to run,
You feel the cold hand and wonder if you'll ever see the sun,
You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination,
But all the while you hear the creature creepin' up behind,
You're out of time!"

The others were experiencing a similar feeling: the uncontrollable urge to dance to this tune that was ironically their funeral dirge.

"'Cause this is thriller, thriller night,
There ain't no second chance against the thing with forty eyes,
You know it's thriller, thriller night,
You're fighting for your life inside of killer, thriller tonight."

Harry finally gave in to tapping his foot and moved his head around to the melody.

"Night creatures call,
And the dead start to walk in their masquerade,
Theres no escapin' the jaws of the alien this time,
(they're open wide)
This is the end of your life!"

Ron and Hermione started to boogie to the music, having shed their fears.

"They're out to get you, there's demons closing in on every side,
They will possess you unless you change the number on your dial,
Now is the time for you and I to cuddle close together,
All through the night I'll save you from the terror on the screen,
I'll make you see!"

Harry couldn't stand content to just bob to the music, he eventually started dancing with Ron and Hermione. Draco and Neville soon joined in with their final merriment.

"That this is thriller, thriller night,
'Cause I can thrill you more than any ghost would dare to try,
Girl, this is thriller, thriller night,
So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller,
Thriller here tonight!"

Voldemort stopped singing and began to speak as he did back in the hospital of their doom. As the back-up singers carried on the tune and everyone continued dancing.

"Darkness falls across the land,
The midnight hour is close at hand,
Creatures crawl in search of blood,
To terrorize your neighbourhood,
And whosoever shall be found,
Without the soul for getting down,
Must stand and face the hounds of hell,
And rot inside a corpse's shell,
The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty thousand years,
And grizzy ghouls from every tomb,
Are closing in to seal your doom,
And though you fight to stay alive,
Your body starts to shiver,
For no mere mortal can resist,
The evil of the thriller!"

Voldemort and all of the minions of evil cackled maniacally. The music violently came screeching to a halt, leaving them in eerie silence. Then the very axis of evil began to close in Harry with malice in their red eyes.

"Fuck this…" Harry dropped down his sparkling sword and sauntered off into a pub, leaving the world to deal with the Apocalypse all by itself.

To put it mildly, humanity did not fare well and that was the end of Harry's saga. There would be no sequel or continuation of the series, for there was no longer an author to compose it. And there would most certainly not be a movie made, depicting the gruesome battle feebly fought. It would be last anyone would ever see of the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die.

The End