DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter empire...not the movies, not the books, not the characters, not the locations, and not the terminology. However, this plot, if you can call it a plot, and the idea of 'wizard confetti' do belong to me. No copyright infringement intended! Please don't sue, all you'll get is a betta fish named Petey Washington and the very first pair of mittens I have ever knitted (one black with yellow stripes and one slytherin green).
As Harry lazily made his way down the stairs, he stretched and muttered a sleepy "lumos" to light his way. He was headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Even though he was of age and could legally use magic to conjure a glass water - or a number of other things - he still liked to do some things the muggle way.
At the foot of the stairs, Harry gazed around at the chaos that surrounded him. He was standing in what might have been the living room of the Burrow...but not anymore. The Weasleys had been kind enough to host a graduation party for their year that night, and it showed. Empty cups scattered, platters everywhere, wizard's confetti falling the ground and then floating up to repeat its downward spiral once more...it had been quite a party. So good, in fact, that Mrs. Weasley had left the cleanup for the next morning.
Harry stepped over the debris and looked around the room. He smiled as his eye caught the Weasley's clock. No longer were the hands pointing to "mortal peril"...no, for Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort shortly before his 7th year.
Something caught his eye in the corner. 'It must've been a shadow' Harry thought to himself. Once again he started to make his way toward the kitchen and was startled to see the 'shadow' move along the wall. He quickly spun around, wand outstretched, to try and see whatever it was. Regrettably, that was the last conscious movement Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, ever made.
As he finally faced the fern whose limbs had been moving with the slight breeze from an open window, he neglected to miss a table leg and tripped, hitting his head on a cabinet and passing out. Unfortunately, he fell face first into a half empty punchbowl where he promptly drowned.
A/N: Okay, okay, I know it wasn't much of a story. In fact, it's not supposed to be a story. I wrote the original version shortly after reading HBP and my intent was to kill Harry before he got to Voldemort, proving that the prophecy spoke of Neville and not him. However, a lot of things have changed. I'm sorry I lost that story, I actually used ink and quill to write the original (tear). Anyway, I had a whole AU thing planned out, and when I lost my original "I killed HP" story I kind of gave up on it. The sole purpose of this story was to off the Boy Who Lived in a non-violent, non-magical, semi-funny accident. You know, like people who go skiing and run into a tree...
Yes, I know I have a horrible sense of humor.