My First Fanfic - A Valkyrie's Life
Summary: Two days after killing Voldemort, finding his friends weren't really his friends and his headmaster never truly believed in him, Harry Potter committed suicide. At least, that's what Vernon Dursley told the Wizarding World. Harry wakes up a week after his 17th birthday to find he wasn't who he thought he was, in the middle of a forest, haunted by the betrayal of his friends and family. To make matter's worse, his inheritence has decided he needs to find his mate...but everyone thinks he's dead...
As The World Falls Down
HARRY POTTER IS DEAD
It has come to the attention of the Daily Prophet that on July 31st 1997, the night of his seventeenth birthday, our Saviour, Harry James Potter was pronounced deceased by muggle relatives.
At this time, the muggle family has refused anyone from the ministry of magic to see the boy, and that he is “away at the morgue”. The family head, Vernon - no last name was supplied, by request of Albus Dumbledore to ensure their safety - revealed to the Daily Prophet that the boy took his own life by jumping off the roof of their two-storey home.
We can only assume the boy became mentally unstable as a result of his battle and subsequent defeat of You-Know-Who.
“He was a bloody menace, he was. The little freak caused enormous stress upon my family. If we weren’t such good people, we’d have been happy to be rid of the boy.” Vernon commented to us.
Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster and Harry Potter’s mentor, was unavailable for comment.
Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, gives his condolences to the family on behalf of the Wizarding community and has released his statement in regards to dealing with Mr. Potter’s body and burial.
“While it would be preferred that Mr. Potter was buried and preserved with all the dignity of the hero he was, his subsequent admittance to a muggle morgue facility makes this impossible. He will be buried in a muggle cemetery, per choice of the boy’s relatives, of which the location will be kept secret.”
In regards to this tragedy, we would like to thank Mr. Potter for all he has done for us, and ask that he be remembered for making the Wizarding World safe once again, and not for the way he died.
- Daily Prophet Reporter, Wilfred Whisp.
If someone had walked exactly 842 metres in the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing, Surrey, they would have seen a body.
A body of what appeared to be a young male with a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead.
Unfortunately, no-one walked that far into the woods. Why should they?
A week had passed since Harry Potter died, and the Wizarding World, while upset their hero had died, were readily celebrating their new-found safety. After all, You-Know-Who was gone for good! Their Saviour had made sure of that.
Besides, that’s all they really cared about anyway. No-one had readily cared for the person - Harry Potter.
The Dursleys had hated him since forever, as far as Harry was concerned.
Albus Dumbledore only used him for the good of the people.
Others pretended to care, but they never even saw him for HIM - just Harry. They were interested in the Boy-Who-Lived.
Even Ron and Hermione. Sure they cared for Harry’s safety but Ron’s jealous nature had forced him to show his true colours eventually. Jealous of his fame. Jealous of his fortune. Jealous of his fans. None of which Harry had ever wanted in the first place. Ron was just another person thinking of the Saviour. Hermione was a little more complicated, though her intentions became clear nine days ago. She wanted to protect the saviour, make sure he was well and strong enough to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all.
And Harry could never forgive them for it.
A dark-haired youth contemplated his former life and it’s destruction as he sat on a log - 842 metres into the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing, Surrey. The rain was falling hard and pelted him mercilessly, soaking him right down to the marrow in his bones.
Not that he noticed.
His life was ruined after he’d faced off with Voldemort.
FLASHBACK
The evil thing was gone for good and Harry was joyful, although exhausted. Somehow, he’d been unharmed in the battle, and was allowed to see his friends after a night in the Hospital Wing.
They were just happy he was alive, or so he’d thought, and after hours of reassuring Ron and Hermione that he was utterly okay and unharmed they had left with huge smiles on their faces - hands intertwined.
It wasn’t until later that day Harry discovered how they really saw him.
Harry was walking towards Gryffindor Tower (where he’d been living up till the battle with Voldemort - he’d be going back to Surrey tomorrow.) hoping Ron and Hermione would be there, so he could say goodbye to them before he left. Thinking contently about what he might do with the life he never thought he’d have, he almost didn’t hear the soft banging of a door being closed nearby.
Almost.
Immediately, Harry was in stealth-mode. Quickly deciphering the source of the sound, he quietly moved along the walls towards it. The door wasn’t completely shut so he manoeuvred himself into a position in which he could spy without being spied.
Ron! It was he who made the noise.
“Can you believe it, Ron?! He’s gone! Voldemort is finally gone!” said a voice that definitely wasn’t Ron’s, followed by a bushy-haired girl flinging herself into Ron’s arms.
Aah, Hermione. Harry was happy to see his friends so relieved - not to mention together. Finally. Deciding it was safe to enter the room, he made to open the door further, but froze once he heard Ron’s reply to the girl.
“I know. We can thank our saviour for that,” Ron said smiling down at his girlfriend, “And to think - we helped him! We’ll be famous too, Hermione! And rich too, I’ll bet - the ministry will be begging for us to work for them for so many galleons it’ll be impossible to count!”
Harry almost collapsed at the conclusion of his supposed friend’s tirade. How could Ron betray him like that? They were best friends! He was sure Hermione would Ron out for the remark but was only surprised further when she simply smiled and kissed Ron softly, murmuring her agreement.
He couldn’t handle it. Harry needed to get away before he gave away his presence to the traitorous couple. He ran, all thoughts of Gryffindor Tower and his Newly Happy Life forgotten. He ran to Dumbledore’s office, thankfully empty, and flooed to the Dursley’s home, which had been connected only to Dumbledore’s office sometime during the last school year.
END OF FLASHBACK
Needless to say, Ron and Hermione, among most of the Order, had been perplexed at Harry’s sudden decision to return home. Multiple attempts to contact him for a reason were ignored, that is, if Vernon hadn’t told them to go away first.
That was one of the worst days of his life, as far as he knew. The fact he was turning seventeen the next day made it worse. He’d become an adult - without anyone there to embrace him for the man he would become.
July 30th 1997
No. 4 Privet Drive
Smallest Bedroom
11:59pm.
Harry lay on his bed, desperately trying to hold back tears which threatened to fall. Tears of betrayal and new-found hatred. Tears of a life lost. Tears of rejection. Tears of loneliness.
He’d returned to his relatives’ home to find himself severely unwelcome (even more so). Dumbledore had owled them about Harry’s defeat of Voldemort and they were nothing short of terrified. Vernon had taken to carrying a gun with him at all times in order to “protect his family from the murderer”. Harry was just waiting to be shot.
11:59:55pm
Harry lay on his bed, facing desertion, giving up on holding back the tears that now fell freely, streaming down his face.
July 31st 1997
No. 4 Privet Drive
Smallest Bedroom
12:00am.
Harry lay on his bed. Blinding pain engulfed him and a bright light was being emitted from his body, illuminating the room fiercely.
A pain-filled scream
12:01am
An awoken Vernon Dursley charged into the smallest room of No. 4 Privet Drive, gun cocked, ready to shoot the murderer that had obviously decided to use his freakishness to kill him and his family.
A gun shot
12:10am
Vernon Dursley dragged a limp dark-haired youth into the dense wood surrounding the neighbourhood, ready to dump the body in a specially prepared location he was sure nobody would ever discover. Although he found it odd that the gunshot wound in the boys forehead didn’t bleed, Vernon wasn’t worried he hadn’t sufficiently killed the freak. Nobody could survive a gunshot to the head. Not even a Wizard.
A thud
The deed was done. And Vernon couldn’t be more prepared for the coming onslaught of freaks and interrogations.
A soft cruel laugh
August 7th 1997
842 metres into the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing
12:00pm
The body of a former dark-haired youth shuddered.
Emerald eyes opened and a gasp was emitted.
The image of a gunshot wound dissipated from a pale glowing forehead.
12:01pm
The Adonis-like body of a new born Valkyrie glowed in the darkness of the enclosed forest.
Clothes lay shredded over the forest floor, leaving only a shorts clad figure sitting on a log contemplating his former life.
To Be Continued.
For the sake of the story, i'm going to ignore the Valkyrie of Norse Mythology. :)
As The World Falls Down
HARRY POTTER IS DEAD
It has come to the attention of the Daily Prophet that on July 31st 1997, the night of his seventeenth birthday, our Saviour, Harry James Potter was pronounced deceased by muggle relatives.
At this time, the muggle family has refused anyone from the ministry of magic to see the boy, and that he is “away at the morgue”. The family head, Vernon - no last name was supplied, by request of Albus Dumbledore to ensure their safety - revealed to the Daily Prophet that the boy took his own life by jumping off the roof of their two-storey home.
We can only assume the boy became mentally unstable as a result of his battle and subsequent defeat of You-Know-Who.
“He was a bloody menace, he was. The little freak caused enormous stress upon my family. If we weren’t such good people, we’d have been happy to be rid of the boy.” Vernon commented to us.
Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster and Harry Potter’s mentor, was unavailable for comment.
Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, gives his condolences to the family on behalf of the Wizarding community and has released his statement in regards to dealing with Mr. Potter’s body and burial.
“While it would be preferred that Mr. Potter was buried and preserved with all the dignity of the hero he was, his subsequent admittance to a muggle morgue facility makes this impossible. He will be buried in a muggle cemetery, per choice of the boy’s relatives, of which the location will be kept secret.”
In regards to this tragedy, we would like to thank Mr. Potter for all he has done for us, and ask that he be remembered for making the Wizarding World safe once again, and not for the way he died.
- Daily Prophet Reporter, Wilfred Whisp.
If someone had walked exactly 842 metres in the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing, Surrey, they would have seen a body.
A body of what appeared to be a young male with a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead.
Unfortunately, no-one walked that far into the woods. Why should they?
A week had passed since Harry Potter died, and the Wizarding World, while upset their hero had died, were readily celebrating their new-found safety. After all, You-Know-Who was gone for good! Their Saviour had made sure of that.
Besides, that’s all they really cared about anyway. No-one had readily cared for the person - Harry Potter.
The Dursleys had hated him since forever, as far as Harry was concerned.
Albus Dumbledore only used him for the good of the people.
Others pretended to care, but they never even saw him for HIM - just Harry. They were interested in the Boy-Who-Lived.
Even Ron and Hermione. Sure they cared for Harry’s safety but Ron’s jealous nature had forced him to show his true colours eventually. Jealous of his fame. Jealous of his fortune. Jealous of his fans. None of which Harry had ever wanted in the first place. Ron was just another person thinking of the Saviour. Hermione was a little more complicated, though her intentions became clear nine days ago. She wanted to protect the saviour, make sure he was well and strong enough to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all.
And Harry could never forgive them for it.
A dark-haired youth contemplated his former life and it’s destruction as he sat on a log - 842 metres into the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing, Surrey. The rain was falling hard and pelted him mercilessly, soaking him right down to the marrow in his bones.
Not that he noticed.
His life was ruined after he’d faced off with Voldemort.
FLASHBACK
The evil thing was gone for good and Harry was joyful, although exhausted. Somehow, he’d been unharmed in the battle, and was allowed to see his friends after a night in the Hospital Wing.
They were just happy he was alive, or so he’d thought, and after hours of reassuring Ron and Hermione that he was utterly okay and unharmed they had left with huge smiles on their faces - hands intertwined.
It wasn’t until later that day Harry discovered how they really saw him.
Harry was walking towards Gryffindor Tower (where he’d been living up till the battle with Voldemort - he’d be going back to Surrey tomorrow.) hoping Ron and Hermione would be there, so he could say goodbye to them before he left. Thinking contently about what he might do with the life he never thought he’d have, he almost didn’t hear the soft banging of a door being closed nearby.
Almost.
Immediately, Harry was in stealth-mode. Quickly deciphering the source of the sound, he quietly moved along the walls towards it. The door wasn’t completely shut so he manoeuvred himself into a position in which he could spy without being spied.
Ron! It was he who made the noise.
“Can you believe it, Ron?! He’s gone! Voldemort is finally gone!” said a voice that definitely wasn’t Ron’s, followed by a bushy-haired girl flinging herself into Ron’s arms.
Aah, Hermione. Harry was happy to see his friends so relieved - not to mention together. Finally. Deciding it was safe to enter the room, he made to open the door further, but froze once he heard Ron’s reply to the girl.
“I know. We can thank our saviour for that,” Ron said smiling down at his girlfriend, “And to think - we helped him! We’ll be famous too, Hermione! And rich too, I’ll bet - the ministry will be begging for us to work for them for so many galleons it’ll be impossible to count!”
Harry almost collapsed at the conclusion of his supposed friend’s tirade. How could Ron betray him like that? They were best friends! He was sure Hermione would Ron out for the remark but was only surprised further when she simply smiled and kissed Ron softly, murmuring her agreement.
He couldn’t handle it. Harry needed to get away before he gave away his presence to the traitorous couple. He ran, all thoughts of Gryffindor Tower and his Newly Happy Life forgotten. He ran to Dumbledore’s office, thankfully empty, and flooed to the Dursley’s home, which had been connected only to Dumbledore’s office sometime during the last school year.
END OF FLASHBACK
Needless to say, Ron and Hermione, among most of the Order, had been perplexed at Harry’s sudden decision to return home. Multiple attempts to contact him for a reason were ignored, that is, if Vernon hadn’t told them to go away first.
That was one of the worst days of his life, as far as he knew. The fact he was turning seventeen the next day made it worse. He’d become an adult - without anyone there to embrace him for the man he would become.
July 30th 1997
No. 4 Privet Drive
Smallest Bedroom
11:59pm.
Harry lay on his bed, desperately trying to hold back tears which threatened to fall. Tears of betrayal and new-found hatred. Tears of a life lost. Tears of rejection. Tears of loneliness.
He’d returned to his relatives’ home to find himself severely unwelcome (even more so). Dumbledore had owled them about Harry’s defeat of Voldemort and they were nothing short of terrified. Vernon had taken to carrying a gun with him at all times in order to “protect his family from the murderer”. Harry was just waiting to be shot.
11:59:55pm
Harry lay on his bed, facing desertion, giving up on holding back the tears that now fell freely, streaming down his face.
July 31st 1997
No. 4 Privet Drive
Smallest Bedroom
12:00am.
Harry lay on his bed. Blinding pain engulfed him and a bright light was being emitted from his body, illuminating the room fiercely.
A pain-filled scream
12:01am
An awoken Vernon Dursley charged into the smallest room of No. 4 Privet Drive, gun cocked, ready to shoot the murderer that had obviously decided to use his freakishness to kill him and his family.
A gun shot
12:10am
Vernon Dursley dragged a limp dark-haired youth into the dense wood surrounding the neighbourhood, ready to dump the body in a specially prepared location he was sure nobody would ever discover. Although he found it odd that the gunshot wound in the boys forehead didn’t bleed, Vernon wasn’t worried he hadn’t sufficiently killed the freak. Nobody could survive a gunshot to the head. Not even a Wizard.
A thud
The deed was done. And Vernon couldn’t be more prepared for the coming onslaught of freaks and interrogations.
A soft cruel laugh
August 7th 1997
842 metres into the dense wood surrounding Little Whingeing
12:00pm
The body of a former dark-haired youth shuddered.
Emerald eyes opened and a gasp was emitted.
The image of a gunshot wound dissipated from a pale glowing forehead.
12:01pm
The Adonis-like body of a new born Valkyrie glowed in the darkness of the enclosed forest.
Clothes lay shredded over the forest floor, leaving only a shorts clad figure sitting on a log contemplating his former life.
To Be Continued.
For the sake of the story, i'm going to ignore the Valkyrie of Norse Mythology. :)