Harry Potter and the End of Dark Days
By Kim Lock
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury Publishing, and Scholastic Publishing. The plot and storyline are completely made up by me.
CHAPTER 1
As he gazed out the window, he smelled the slightly perfumed air. He sighed as he took in the scent of lavender and honeysuckle. The tranquility of the moment made him feel whole. The two pieces of his heart that had been ripped out when he was a boy were finally filled. Now he could live peacefully with the world once more. He looked at the sun that was just about to reach the horizon and realized that he had never noticed the simplicity of the situation. The beauty . . . the splendor of never having to worry about anything anymore. He felt as if he was under a well-placed Imperius Curse. The pure bliss of not having to fret was almost too much to handle in itself. He looked over at his bureau and saw two pictures of his best friends, who had been killed years earlier. He quickly looked away from the frames . . . he had never completely recovered from the deaths of his best friends . . . Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. "NEVILLE!" his grandmother shrieked up the steps. "COME TO THE KITCHEN THIS INSTANT!" "Coming, Nana," Neville replied rather flatly. He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. Living with Nana these days had become nothing less than torture. Her goal in life seemed to be making his life as miserable as possible. She made him weed the garden, wash her with his own bare hands, and make her dinner every night. If the dinner was burnt in any way, it was thrown out and he had to start again . . . without magic! Neville opened his bedroom door and walked down the hall. The little four-room flat he and Nana lived in was not very comforting. It was filled with horrid pictures of Nana's other grandsons, whom she favored over him, and smelled of soiled milk. The worst part was the fact that he had to live here for four more years, until he was twenty-one. He tried not to think of this though. As he reached the kitchen, he rolled his eyes and said, "What, Nana?" He looked to his left and saw a man in a pin striped cloak and suit with a green bowler hat sitting at his kitchen table sipping a glass of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey. He didn't know this man and immediately asked, "Nana, who is he?" "Neville! Don't say that in such a disrespectful tone! It's the Minister of Magic!" Nana said in an undertone. Neville felt his face flush with embarrassment and he straightened his posture as he went down to sit at the table. He looked to his right and saw Nana, in her lime-green dress and horrible red hat with the stuffed vulture looking admirably at Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "Hello, Neville, old boy. Didn't mean to startle you . . ." he said, patting Neville's hand. Neville wondered why this rather old looking man whom he'd never met before in his life was looking at him with glassy, swollen eyes and patting him on the hand. He was confused greatly. "Neville . . . your parents have died." Neville was looking quite unperturbed by this news. Fudge looked at him strangely until Neville replied, "Yeah, I knew that. They died about three months ago, didn't they?" Fudge was obviously taken aback at his relaxed reaction to this information. "Well . . . yes, but . . . how did you know?" "Nana here told me." Nana looked over at Neville with menacing eyes. It seemed as if she was telling him that he was going to get the beating of his life later on. "How did you find out, Mrs. Longbottom?" "I-I-I . . . well . . . I . . . he . . . I have my useful sources at the Ministry, Mr. Fudge," Nana retorted. "What I'd like to know is why the Ministry has waited so long to tell me," Neville asked. "There's been a fair bit of gossip going around and we wanted to make sure that it was all hushed up before you found out." Neville remained silent for the next few minutes, and finally, Fudge spoke up. "Well, Neville, they've been restored at Wicker's Magical Funeral Home and the funeral will be held on the 28th of August. I am sure your many well-wishers and friends will want to be there to comfort you?" "Yeah . . ." "Okay, well Mrs. Longbottom, I shall be off. I give my very greatest condolences, and if you've any questions, I'll be glad to answer them if I can. Here's my number," Fudge handed her a business card, "and if you ever have any questions concerning other matters, I will be happy to oblige." "Yes, Mr. Fudge, I do have a few more questions," Nana snapped. Mr. Fudge was looking violated, as if he couldn't bear the fact that a ninety-nine year old woman was treating him inferiorly. But, none the less, he sat back down at the table and took another sip of his Firewhiskey. "How did they get killed exactly? My 'useful source' only told me that they were killed . . . not exactly how." "Now that information, I cannot disclose as of right now." "The boy's parents died! Not to mention my son! I think we deserve an answer!" Neville was surprised at Nana's anger and sarcasm. She was usually so respectful and reserved. "Now, Mrs. Longbottom, there's no need to raise your voice. It's just been agreed by the Ministry that no information pertaining to deaths at this time can be given out until the Ministry sees fit to release it! I've got a list of the signatures, if you'd like to see!" Nana shut up after this comment and Fudge said, "I think that I'll be off now!" He stood up defiantly and stomped off out the door. He slammed the door so hard that one of the panes fell out. Nana looked at Neville and said, "Boy, you never let people that have a high opinion of themselves treat you inferior!" Neville just stared back at his grandmother surprisingly. He'd never seen this anger, this rage . . . this side of Nana . . . the odd thing was though, was that he liked it. As Nana bustled irritably around the kitchen, cleaning up the dirty cooking utensils from breakfast, Neville slowly stood up and inched along the wall, trying not to set her off again. He didn't want to be the one who started all this corruption. Neville finally made it to the hallway again. He stood there, looking sideways, then forwards, and then backwards. He didn't know what to do with his life. To this point, he'd never thought where his life was going to take him. He felt an emptiness inside him . . . pure purposelessness. He felt as if he had gone as far as he was going to go in life and he wouldn't make it any further than this. It was now that the single thought ran through his head . . . "Where's the gun?"
CHAPTER 2 When the girl looked down the hall, expecting to see Harry Potter, the famous boy - wait, no, - the famous wizard, walking towards her, but with no luck. With a heavy heart and a big sigh, she turned on her heel and started walking back down the corridor towards the stairwell. "When's he going to arrive?" she wondered silently to herself. She couldn't wait to see her brother's best friend, whom she'd had a crush on ever since the first time she'd laid eyes on him. She slipped into a kind of euphoria as she imagined his lean, muscular body wrapping his arms around her. She was quickly driven out of her momentary bliss when she heard a young male voice shrieking her name. "GINNY!" her brother Ron screamed. "What, Ron!" Ginny yelled back. "What's wrong with you? You have been daydreaming way too much for your own good lately!" Ginny, slight embarrassed and blushing enormously, looked down at her feet and said, timidly, "So what?" "I'm beginning to wonder about you . . . well, you better not make a fool of yourself around your dearest Harry, since he's arriving in about an hour." Ginny immediately perked off and scampered off to her room. She had to put on her make-up and do her hair . . . but all in one hour?
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury Publishing, and Scholastic Publishing. The plot and storyline are completely made up by me.
CHAPTER 1
As he gazed out the window, he smelled the slightly perfumed air. He sighed as he took in the scent of lavender and honeysuckle. The tranquility of the moment made him feel whole. The two pieces of his heart that had been ripped out when he was a boy were finally filled. Now he could live peacefully with the world once more. He looked at the sun that was just about to reach the horizon and realized that he had never noticed the simplicity of the situation. The beauty . . . the splendor of never having to worry about anything anymore. He felt as if he was under a well-placed Imperius Curse. The pure bliss of not having to fret was almost too much to handle in itself. He looked over at his bureau and saw two pictures of his best friends, who had been killed years earlier. He quickly looked away from the frames . . . he had never completely recovered from the deaths of his best friends . . . Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. "NEVILLE!" his grandmother shrieked up the steps. "COME TO THE KITCHEN THIS INSTANT!" "Coming, Nana," Neville replied rather flatly. He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. Living with Nana these days had become nothing less than torture. Her goal in life seemed to be making his life as miserable as possible. She made him weed the garden, wash her with his own bare hands, and make her dinner every night. If the dinner was burnt in any way, it was thrown out and he had to start again . . . without magic! Neville opened his bedroom door and walked down the hall. The little four-room flat he and Nana lived in was not very comforting. It was filled with horrid pictures of Nana's other grandsons, whom she favored over him, and smelled of soiled milk. The worst part was the fact that he had to live here for four more years, until he was twenty-one. He tried not to think of this though. As he reached the kitchen, he rolled his eyes and said, "What, Nana?" He looked to his left and saw a man in a pin striped cloak and suit with a green bowler hat sitting at his kitchen table sipping a glass of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey. He didn't know this man and immediately asked, "Nana, who is he?" "Neville! Don't say that in such a disrespectful tone! It's the Minister of Magic!" Nana said in an undertone. Neville felt his face flush with embarrassment and he straightened his posture as he went down to sit at the table. He looked to his right and saw Nana, in her lime-green dress and horrible red hat with the stuffed vulture looking admirably at Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "Hello, Neville, old boy. Didn't mean to startle you . . ." he said, patting Neville's hand. Neville wondered why this rather old looking man whom he'd never met before in his life was looking at him with glassy, swollen eyes and patting him on the hand. He was confused greatly. "Neville . . . your parents have died." Neville was looking quite unperturbed by this news. Fudge looked at him strangely until Neville replied, "Yeah, I knew that. They died about three months ago, didn't they?" Fudge was obviously taken aback at his relaxed reaction to this information. "Well . . . yes, but . . . how did you know?" "Nana here told me." Nana looked over at Neville with menacing eyes. It seemed as if she was telling him that he was going to get the beating of his life later on. "How did you find out, Mrs. Longbottom?" "I-I-I . . . well . . . I . . . he . . . I have my useful sources at the Ministry, Mr. Fudge," Nana retorted. "What I'd like to know is why the Ministry has waited so long to tell me," Neville asked. "There's been a fair bit of gossip going around and we wanted to make sure that it was all hushed up before you found out." Neville remained silent for the next few minutes, and finally, Fudge spoke up. "Well, Neville, they've been restored at Wicker's Magical Funeral Home and the funeral will be held on the 28th of August. I am sure your many well-wishers and friends will want to be there to comfort you?" "Yeah . . ." "Okay, well Mrs. Longbottom, I shall be off. I give my very greatest condolences, and if you've any questions, I'll be glad to answer them if I can. Here's my number," Fudge handed her a business card, "and if you ever have any questions concerning other matters, I will be happy to oblige." "Yes, Mr. Fudge, I do have a few more questions," Nana snapped. Mr. Fudge was looking violated, as if he couldn't bear the fact that a ninety-nine year old woman was treating him inferiorly. But, none the less, he sat back down at the table and took another sip of his Firewhiskey. "How did they get killed exactly? My 'useful source' only told me that they were killed . . . not exactly how." "Now that information, I cannot disclose as of right now." "The boy's parents died! Not to mention my son! I think we deserve an answer!" Neville was surprised at Nana's anger and sarcasm. She was usually so respectful and reserved. "Now, Mrs. Longbottom, there's no need to raise your voice. It's just been agreed by the Ministry that no information pertaining to deaths at this time can be given out until the Ministry sees fit to release it! I've got a list of the signatures, if you'd like to see!" Nana shut up after this comment and Fudge said, "I think that I'll be off now!" He stood up defiantly and stomped off out the door. He slammed the door so hard that one of the panes fell out. Nana looked at Neville and said, "Boy, you never let people that have a high opinion of themselves treat you inferior!" Neville just stared back at his grandmother surprisingly. He'd never seen this anger, this rage . . . this side of Nana . . . the odd thing was though, was that he liked it. As Nana bustled irritably around the kitchen, cleaning up the dirty cooking utensils from breakfast, Neville slowly stood up and inched along the wall, trying not to set her off again. He didn't want to be the one who started all this corruption. Neville finally made it to the hallway again. He stood there, looking sideways, then forwards, and then backwards. He didn't know what to do with his life. To this point, he'd never thought where his life was going to take him. He felt an emptiness inside him . . . pure purposelessness. He felt as if he had gone as far as he was going to go in life and he wouldn't make it any further than this. It was now that the single thought ran through his head . . . "Where's the gun?"
CHAPTER 2 When the girl looked down the hall, expecting to see Harry Potter, the famous boy - wait, no, - the famous wizard, walking towards her, but with no luck. With a heavy heart and a big sigh, she turned on her heel and started walking back down the corridor towards the stairwell. "When's he going to arrive?" she wondered silently to herself. She couldn't wait to see her brother's best friend, whom she'd had a crush on ever since the first time she'd laid eyes on him. She slipped into a kind of euphoria as she imagined his lean, muscular body wrapping his arms around her. She was quickly driven out of her momentary bliss when she heard a young male voice shrieking her name. "GINNY!" her brother Ron screamed. "What, Ron!" Ginny yelled back. "What's wrong with you? You have been daydreaming way too much for your own good lately!" Ginny, slight embarrassed and blushing enormously, looked down at her feet and said, timidly, "So what?" "I'm beginning to wonder about you . . . well, you better not make a fool of yourself around your dearest Harry, since he's arriving in about an hour." Ginny immediately perked off and scampered off to her room. She had to put on her make-up and do her hair . . . but all in one hour?