Already Gone
Wanda: Welcome to my incredibly depressing oneshot series, everybody! This is where I take my more morbid thoughts about Harry Potter and go nuts, because they're too different from my current story to fit in somewhere. If you like being incredibly depressed, you're in the right place. I don't own Harry Potter.
The Bridge
Surrey, 1998
A bridge above a rushing river, in London. A young boy walks across it, stopping in the middle to stare out across the water. Normal, one would think.
The back of his shirt is bloody. Not so normal.
The boy lets out a pitiful whimper, crumpling against the railings. His back was burning. He had been ganged up on; six kids twice his size had beaten him bloody. When he had returned home, his aunt had shrieked and slammed the door in his face.
The boy's name was Harry Potter. He was ten years old, and he was a freak.
Freak.
It was shouted in his face, whispered behind his back.
Useless, stupid, ungrateful brat.
Everyone knew it. His aunt and uncle had made sure of it.
No one wants you. You should have died with your parents.
A burden.
Garbage that had to be kept.
Harry whimpers again, and then looks down at the river. The water is dark and probably cold; though spring was coming on the river never really grew warm. It looks very far away from where he's sitting. It looked soft to land on, but the teachers at school insisted that falling on it would be like falling on concrete.
Harry pushes himself to his feet and looks up and down the bridge. There was a storm warning on the telly, so everyone seemed to be staying indoors. He was alone.
He was always alone.
We don't want you! Nobody would ever want you!
No one had ever loved him. Strange things happened around him, things that caused people to get hurt. His aunt said so. She hated him for it, because he put his cousin Dudley in danger.
The blood caking the back of Harry's oversized shirt would beg to differ, but the Dursley family were never the most objective people. Especially when it came to the Potters.
Harry stared down at the water.
You should have died with your parents, ungrateful freak...
Worthless...
Unwanted...
Harry stepped up onto the railing. Tears dripped down his cheeks.
One of his earliest memories was a flash of green light and his mother whispering to him. He treasured those memories because of what he heard. "Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you."
Harry wished, more then once, that he could stay that way forever. That he could be like sleeping beauty and stay in an eternal slumber, wrapped in his mother's embrace.
His mother and father were sleeping...and they were the only ones who loved him...no one wanted him around here...
He was a freak...he didn't belong...
So it was time to go...
Harry took a deep breath and jumped.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
In a faraway office, one that Harry would never step foot in now, several silver instruments screamed and smoked. An old man rushed over to them, half-moon glasses askew and panic in his eyes. A moment later, the silver tools shattered.
Albus Dumbledore stared, stuck silent in a moment of shock and horror. A minute later, he was rushing over to the floo and transporting himself to Little Whining.
He went to House Number 4 with a speed that belied his age and pounded on the door. A moment later, Petunia Dursley answered the door and yelped when she saw him.
"Where's Harry?" Dumbledore demanded without preamble.
"W-What?"
"WHERE'S YOUR NEPHEW!?"
"I-I don't know!" Petunia sputtered, still sounding angry as though she was the wronged one being intruded upon. "The little brat didn't come home from school today."
Wordlessly, Dumbledore stared at her for a minute before leaving. He called the Aurors.
The search went on for several days, but there was no sign of the little raven-haired boy who lived. Until one day a young auror walked down by the river and found a heartbreakingly small body lying motionless among the rocks.
They were too late.
The Ministry
Despite Dumbledore's best attempts to keep it under wraps, the news of Harry Potter's death rocked the entire wizarding world. It didn't take long for a response to form.
What happened next was a tribute of rage and years of mistrust towards muggles. Several witches and wizards formed a mob and went after the Dursleys.
They were eventually stopped, but not until after a fate beyond words had been set upon the muggles who had driven their savior to kill himself.
Far away in Albania, a wraith was laughing madly. He had already won.
His opponent was already gone.
End Chapter
...You know, Dumbledore knowingly leaving Harry with the Dursleys without making sure they would treat him well should have had way worse consequences then it did. So after that, Voldemort gets his body back, takes over Wizarding Britain after killing Dumbledore and is eventually destroyed when he invades the muggle world and they hit him and his minions with a nuke. All because Dumbledore couldn't take care of a little boy.