A.N.: This idea just came to me and I had nothing better to do with my time, so voila. I did this method where first you say the fic and record it and then you transcribe it. It was kind of cool, but I got really tired of having to play two or three sentences on my tape player, then write them down, repeat this, repeat this, and over and over, so towards the end I got lazy and just wrote pretty much from memory. Don't flame me saying that this isn't what happens when you get the Killing Curse done on you -- has anyone ever Avada Kedavra'd you? I didn't think so. In case you couldn't tell, it's from the POV of Harry.
Disclaimer: I may be a very stupid person, but I'm not so stupid that I would try to make money off of this or pretend to be J.K. Rowling.
Avada
The first word came cruelly out of his lips, same tone as always. I gripped my wand. How could this be happening to me? I guess I had it coming, being the boy who lived and all that rot. But still.
I guess I knew it was going to come eventually. I mean, I had all that good luck, with my mum dying and thus saving me; with my touch being lethal to Voldemort; somehow knowing to shove that basilisk fang into the diary; Fawkes coming to save me; Voldemort and my wands having similar cores. I should have known that luck wouldn't last forever. I mean, it just can't. I've thought about that very prospect often before. A strange thought, granted, but a nearly inevitable one too. yet I never really thought of it as a reality. I thought I was thinking about it as one, but now that this is happening I know I couldn't have been now that I realize how unprepared for this I am.
For if you're really prepared for something, if you really think of it as a reality, you are completely and totally prepared for it when it comes. Yet even now, I'm not even really thinking of it as a reality, I suppose. I mean, if someone told you, "I'm about to kill you," or said, "Avada," would you be totally thinking, "Yep, it's real, I'm about to die?" I doubt it.
But that's not the point.
Now I remember the phrase, "Too scared to think." Well that's a lot of old rot. If you're really scared, as I am now, all you can do is think. Think, think, think. When you're really scared, it's all you can do. You can't speak, you can't do anything, you can't pray, you can't prepare, you can only think.
That one tiny second before it happens you think more than you've ever thought in all your life. So many thoughts you can't even catch all of them, can't even catch most of them.
And so these are those few I can catch. I wonder what the ones which I miss are.
I wonder if, those nights I stayed up late wondering if I'd die or how it would happen, I really thought I could die. Lord Voldemort, of course, had always seemed a fright, something I'd certainly not want to have to reckon with. But I almost felt...how would I put this?...almost invincible. I mean, nothing really bad had ever happened to me directly -- I'm not talking about to parents or friends, just about me directly. Nothing has -- even when it came frighteningly close.
So of course I felt as though I was, in a way, invincible. I mean, of course I didn't just think, "Wheee!!!! I'm invincible!!!!!" I never even realized I thought this until now. I just...didn't really think I was about to die. Even now I don't totally believe it. I mean, logically, of course, I know I'm about to die -- how could I not know when I just heard the first word of the killing curse? But in other ways than logic, I don't think I really understand it, comprehend it; for can you imagine death? Seriously, can you?
Seriously. That just made me think about Sirius. This -- this isn't right. I shouldn't be thinking funny word thoughts now, when I'm about to die. But why not? It's my last second here on earth, I may as well enjoy it.
Still, I do wonder where Sirius is now. I wish he was here to save me. Damn it! Nobody's here. Someone's supposed to come to save me now. Selfish, stupid, senseless I know. But someone's always came to save me. My mom saved me. Dumbledore saved me. Fawkes saved me...somebody's always saved me: why not now? I mean, really, why? When I'm about to die, the time I need someone to save me the most, no one comes.
Sirius, or Dumbledore, or Fawkes, or anyone. Why can't just someone come to get me. Why not? There's been plenty of times it could've happened in the past but didn't; so why is it happening now? Okay, this is just irrational thinking. I mean, why should someone save me? Really, by the laws of probability, I have less chance now since I've been saved so often before. But this isn't math is it?
I hate this world. Just leaving me die. Okay, I should stop thinking like this. No reason to die angry at the world. Might as well die happy. But happy about what? That I'm about to die? That wouldn't really be happiness; just a false attempt at it. And better to die feeling how you feel than a synthetic emotion. How...profound.
Funny, I'm thinking my most profound thoughts now, when I'm about to die. Pity it didn't happen sooner...I could've written a book: Meditations of Mr. H. Potter or some rot like that. Now I can't because I'll be dead before I could publish this. Not that it's of any matter now.
Supposedly my life is going to flash before me now. Another of human kind's foolish misconceptions...too bad I couldn't stick around longer to correct it. All that's flashing before me are a bunch of strange demented thoughts...unless that's all my life was, a bunch of stupid thoughts? No, don't think that way. That's what makes people depressed and drives them to suicide. Not that it much matters now if I become suicidal since I'm about to die anyway.
Still, I wonder how all of these thoughts are getting through my mind. There's only one second in between words; I mean, it's not as though Voldemort has tendencies to wait for ten or fifteen minutes between Avada and Kedavra. How does it work? Another mystery of life -- or is it a mystery of death?
Ke-
Oh my God, it's almost over. Only two more syllables and I'm...dead.
Will I go to heaven or hell? Do they even exist. Oh God I wish we knew more...It would be so much easier if we knew a little more. God I'm scared, what's going to happen. Just the end, or is there something next, or what. God help me.
Help help help help help help...
-Dav-
This is it. Two more letters and I'm gone. The Boy Who Lived becomes the Boy Who Died.
Damn I hate this world. I guess that's how I'm going to die. Hating the world and everyone for stupid reasons. Isn't that too bad, I'll have to say my goodbye with bitterness in my heart.
So I do.
Goodbye.
Good-
-ra.