The Death of Dumbledore(Prologue)
10 years.
For ten years, Harry had been trained in the arts of Magic by Dumbledore. He was at the age of Seven when he started rigorous training. SEVEN. He was tired of all this, he never wanted to be the damn fucking chosen one.
He had only seen Dumbledore all his life, well, from what he could remember that is. Harry had only heard about women, never seen one. He heard about how their chests were bigger and rounder than a man's and prettier than men. How their legs did not have dicks but had pussies which were holes where dicks could be thrust in. He always heard of this great "Quidditch player"(Whatever that meant) called Ginny Weasley, a woman who everyone wanted to fuck, basically put their dick in her pussy. He heard about this very smart girl called Hermione, a "Muggle-Born" (What does that even mean) who was smart enough to be the first girl to get perfect grades in all of her exams(Exams were apparently this thing to test someone's knowledge). There were so many, and he would conquer them all. Harry first had to execute his plan.
Dumbledore sat on the rocking chair in the shack where he kept Harry.
"Harry, please bring Tea" Dumbledore ordered Harry. Harry started making the tea. During the process and mixed The Draught of Sleeping Death into the tea.
Dumbledore took the tea when Harry gave him, and with a sip of it, he fell asleep.
Harry smiled as he whispered "Avada Kedavra", and there was Dumbledore, the greatest of the wizards, dead, sleeping peacefully on his chair, for his plan had succeeded, nothing had gone wrong.