Harry Potter One Shots

All Quiet on the Wizard Front

All rights belong to the author, nuclearxsquid

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if Tom Riddle had died along with his mother in childbirth. Or if Dumbledore hadn't of rescued him from the orphanage. Or if he tripped over a sock and impaled himself with his toothbrush in the throat.

However, there are too many 'what ifs.' Though there's always the one that lurks in the back of my mind. What if I sacrificed myself to kill Voldemort?

Some people would wonder at my sanity for wanting to kill myself. They don't understand. No one does.

Ha, here I am sounding like the pathetic child I once was. Oh, no one understands what I've been through, woe is me!

Never did I realize I was taking everything for granted.

Because within one summer, everything you once knew can be stripped away from you. That's why I, Harry Potter, am writing this down. I need to let people know what they're dealing with. There's no such thing as sunshine an bunnies.

But only those who have faced what I have can understand that.

Let me begin at the beginning...

My horror story does not begin at my birth, like some people would believe. No, my life was pretty tame compared to what I face now.

What I'm facing now being a pack of forty enraged werewolves singlehandedly.

Maybe I haven't started far enough in the beginning. We were at what everyone hoped would be the last battle, except Voldemort had neglected to show up. Which made it kind of difficult to kill him so I could put an end to the war.

I had no idea though, the war was just only starting.

The Order of the Phoenix had a great number of new, talented recruits. Unfortunately, Voldemort had brute force on his side. None of us wanted to believe we were slowly losing our hold on Hogwarts.

The fighting has gone on for a year now. Twelve months of brutal battle and carnage at every turn. No longer is the Order populated with skilled wizards and witches, but with fools who think the fighting is glorious. The new recruits are only good for being used as punching bags for the other side while the few originals of the initial battle fight on.

There are few from the DA that have survived so far. Ginny, Neville, Luna, Hermione, Ron, and I are the only survivors from the club we started that now seems so silly and childish.

Almost everyone from the Order before war broke out is dead. Only Snape, Tonks, and Lupin remain fighting, though Lupin has to constantly take leave to battle his inner demon.

As more excited recruits pour in, the pile of bodies grow higher.

And Voldemort still has yet to show his face.

Coward.

The werewolves regard me with cold indifference as I raise my wand. They see me as yet another person to take down and eat.

I mumble some nonsense words and watch as white light surrounds six of the wolves. They begin hyperventilating and keel over. Dead, I think.

As the other wolves begin lunging at me, I yell out other nonsense. I've gotten past the point of using my brain to recite spells from memory. Instead, I rely on instinct to take down my enemies.

It sounds great, doesn't it? In reality, most of the spells fail and manage to explode whatever I'm pointing my wand at. Unfortunatey, that's exactly my goal, so it works well in a macabre sort of way.