The Storm
Everyone in the Weasley clan was headed to some big quidditch tournament.
She’ll go, only out of curiosity.
Much to the detriment of Molly Weasley, Draco has moved himself right in, refusing to go back to his family.
He brought his peacock.
——
Tom Riddle was horrified.
He should have killed the boy when he had the chance.
It all started when the boy was meditating. He accidentally magically ‘opened’ the horcrux.
Over time, he’s been getting stronger, influencing the boy. A little added thought here, a little added thought there.
And it was so easy too. All he had to do was mimic the boys voice, making him think that it’s his own.
Tom now has a hold on Harry’s subconscious and influences his behavior, making him unstable and erratic. He was no longer quite himself.
It all started to go down hill when Tom decided to take periodic breaks in order to recharge and drain Harry some more.
When he came to, Harry had a knife stuck through his skull.
“Boy. What the in the bloody hell??”
Tom must have done something wrong, for Harry has no more impulse control. He wanted to see what would happen to the voice inside his of head if he took out a chunk of his brain.
Things just continuously got worse and Tom had no clue how to retake control of this situation.
Tom had to gently guide him.
For once in his life, Tom was the voice of reason.
“No, Potter, you cannot transform into bread and bake to a healthy crisp while expecting to live.”
“Please don’t eat that.”
“We needed that house! YOU FOOL!”
It never ended.
But at least it made Tom’s end plan remotely easier.
——
How did it come to this?
Hedwig followed after her group with the plus one hiding under a trench coat to the tournament stands.
Everything was okay and boring… at first.
Within a second of blinking, an explosion happened directly in the middle of the field.
A young teen boy stood there with a plague mask, his hands clasped in front of him.
Oh, there’s Harry.
He stood there, not as a hero, but as a villain. His growth spurt this summer led to a taller and more imposing figure, the funeral garb didn’t help.
Oh Jesus Christ, is that Sirius tied up and gagged behind him?
Harry’s dragging Sirius by a rope as if he were a disobedient little pet, the dark haired man getting rug burn to the extreme.
There was no pity in that grasp. The tie was a little too well done.
(Kreacher was all too ecstatic to help the new Black heir.
What a shame Sirius has no brownie points.)
A magical dome appears, a misty and glowing blue ending right before the bleachers and trapping all of the quidditch players inside.
In a dramatic fashion, Harry shoved his wand downwards into the ground, half of it sticking out. Black runes erupted from the wand, it becoming the center point.
It didn’t take long for the black runes to spread outwards. Within a couple more seconds, all of the quidditch players went down twitching, acting like they’ve just been tasered.
(Their bodies shook worse than Harry’s did when he was on the toilet after disobeying Tom and eating the suspicious mold.)
(Tom wanted to commit suicide. Again.)
He began his weird ass chanting.
Man, where’s the popcorn when you need it?
The stadium spectators go wild as they all try to escape, people being shoved and trampled on. The Weasley clan watched on with disbelief, having recognized Harry’s hair sticking out.
Hedwig could see the magic within the Quidditch players being pulled from their bodies and traveling towards Harry. He seemed to absorb this as though it was the most nutrition he’s had all month.
(It was.)
The sponge stood there with his arms open and wide, head tilted up and tongue hanging out as if he were trying to catch stray raindrops.
What the hell happened when she was gone?
His little friends were determined to go through the magical barrier, but unable to find a way.
In the midst of this, a Death Eater symbol appears above the dome, tall figures in black robes appearing and surrounding Harry.
Some begin harassing the running crowd.
While Hermione and Ron are banging on the dome barrier, another figure mysteriously appears inside.
Standing there with a purple superhero cape and Hello Kitty boots with a couple of toes sticking out through the front, was Dumbledore.
Is that a psych ward shirt with the arms cut off?
“Harry, my boy!”
Turning his head back, Harry got a disturbed expression on his face. It was difficult to tell if this was Tom or Harry. Maybe both.
Dumbledore shook his head and let out a war cry.
In a very public area with many people and all of the aurors watching, he rips out his wand from the front of his pants.
He knows what he must do.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A stream of green light erupts and hits Harry dead center, his body falling down unmoving. His mask is knocked loose from his face, revealing the identity to hundreds, if not thousands, of people.
Dumbledore has killed Harry Potter.