Rating:
PG-13
House:
Riddikulus
Characters:
Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Severus Snape Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Humor Parody
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 09/03/2003
Updated: 09/03/2003
Words: 3,278
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,183

In Which Voldemort Dies...

Hayseed

Story Summary:
Someone tries to fulfill their “Final Battle” story requirement with disastrous results.

Posted:
09/03/2003
Hits:
1,183

The day had finally come for Harry Potter to fulfill his destiny. He was only marginally aware of this fact, thinking only of his survival. And really, he wasn't currently aware of much of anything at all, having just been tossed against a wall by a masked Death Eater, knocking Ron Weasley over in the process.

"That was an unnecessarily pretentious opening, don't you think?" Ron grumbled as he unceremoniously shoved a barely conscious Harry away.

"At least it's spelled correctly," Hermione replied with a small shrug. "I'd just like to know where all of these Death Eaters suddenly came from. I mean, we were just sitting calmly in Charms and all of a sudden we've got evil wizards breathing down our necks."

"I know," Ron said, propping Harry against the wall he'd cracked his head on and lightly slapping his cheeks. "It's like the professors just leave the front gates standing wide open with a sign saying 'Harry Potter lives here.' You'd think Dumbledore would stop hiring them, at any rate."

"I think that whole 'most powerful wizard in the world' thing might be a bit of rubbish," she said. "At least in fanfiction. Ten Galleons says he totters in and offers a masked Lucius Malfoy some ridiculous American Muggle sweet."

Ron shook his head. "Nah...it'll be Draco in the mask. He's got to have taken the Death Mark already."

"Already?" she asked, bewildered. "Hey, how old are we, anyway? What year is this?"

"Dunno," he replied. "The author didn't do an outline before she started writing. My guess would be seventh year given the title." He gave Harry one last whack in the head.

Gasping, Harry sat up very suddenly. "What happened?" he asked, bewildered.

"Final Battle time, buck-o," Ron told him. "Your time to shine."

"That's today?" he cried. "But...but it's nowhere near graduation!"

"The author's not very good at dramatic irony," Hermione said. "Or, she thinks she's really good at it by avoiding the stereotype. Either way, it's only going to get worse from here."

"Of course it is," Harry said. "Voldemort's going to walk in and start shooting hexes at one or more of us. Me in particular. I wonder if this is an angsty fic..." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and began twirling it absently between his fingers.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked blankly.

"Well...we probably ought to be saying our final goodbyes if it is. One or both of you is going to die," he replied matter-of-factly.

"What about you, sonny Jim?" Hermione asked him with a glare. "I've attended your funeral loads of times."

"Oh, fine," Harry said with an irritable flap of his hand. "One or all of us is slated to die, then. Does that make you happy?"

"Not as such."

Ron scanned the room with narrowed eyes. "I don't like this. The damn title involves Voldemort and we've yet to actually see him. I'd get ready, if I were you."

"Right," Hermione said, all business. "Wands out. Harry, you got that sword?"

"Not in this story," he replied glumly. "Well...it was nice knowing you."

The tell-tale prickles on the backs of their necks were all they needed to know that Voldemort was standing right on the other side of the closed door.

"Hey...when did we get into a closed room?" "Shut up, Ron!" "Sorry, but is it too much to ask for a bit of contin--"

The door flew open with a bang and in walked the Darkest wizard of modern times.

His red eyes bore into theirs and he gave them a mirthless smile. Well, actually he was looking at Harry the whole time, but Ron and Hermione were watching him as well.

"So, Harry Potter," he hissed. "The time has finally come."

"Guess so," Harry replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Shall we get right to it or banter first?"

Voldemort frowned. "Actually, d'you mind if I finished my apple first? I'd just bitten into it when I was compelled to come in and I hate to let it go to waste." He waved the fruit in question at Harry. "Would you like a bite?"

"No thanks, but you go right ahead." Harry looked over at his friends. "Quick game of Exploding Snap, anyone?"

Ron and Hermione watched Voldemort crunch into his apple with limited interest. "I think this story may have been written one too many times," Hermione finally said.

"What did you expect?" Ron asked. "Everyone's got to write at least one story with the Final Battle in it. It's like, fanfic law or something."

But their discussion was interrupted with a strange sort of gurgling noise.

Voldemort had apparently taken too large a bite and was now on the floor, blue.

"I'll be damned," Ron said, walking over and poking the Dark Lord. "He's not breathing. The blighter's dead!"

"Wait a minute..." Hermione cried. "That's not supposed to happen!"

"Yeah," Harry pouted. "I didn't even get to insult him once."

"No, you moron," she replied, smacking his shoulder, "that's not what I mean. Hey!" she shouted. "Hey, you up there at the keyboard!"

What?

"You can't do that!"

Can't do what? It's called irony, darlin'. Look it up.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared. "No, I mean that doesn't constitute a Final Battle fic and you know it! The guidelines clearly say that he's got to die a violent death. He can't just choke on his pre-battle snack."

I don't see why not. Some people might think it's funny.

"It's a cheap, dirty trick," she shot back.

You watch it, missy. I know exactly where Sybil Trelawney keeps her chains and whips. What does the word 'slash' mean to you?

"Don't you try to threaten me," Hermione said indignantly. "And besides, I'm not the one who makes the rules."

All right...we'll do it your way. Violent death, it is.

----------

"So, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The time has finally come."

"Yes, it has," Harry replied coldly, raising his wand to dueling position.

Voldemort's smile widened as he advanced on the determined boy. But before he could pronounce his first spell, a five-ton safe came crashing through the ceiling and landed right on top of him.

"Eww!" Ron shouted as his robes were spattered with liberal amounts of blood.

The safe was almost immediately followed by a baby grand piano, a circus elephant named Bertie, two large boulders, and oddly enough, a pot of chrysanthemums.

Just to be safe...

And due to a freak time warp incident involving the toaster in Dumbledore's office and Snape's supply of non-dairy creamer, an entire horde of Mongols suddenly appeared in the room, trampling the few bits left.

"What the hell was that all about?" Hermione screamed over the din. She knocked over one Mongol and punched another who was trying to grab her in an inappropriate place.

What, not violent enough for you?

"Snide little bitch, isn't she?" Ron commented to a dirty Mongol who just grinned and offered him a hunk of raw meat.

"Can we please do something about the five thousand barbarians crammed into this twelve-by-twelve room?" Harry pleaded.

Oh, all right. I see no one here has any appreciation for proper post-modern satire.

The Mongols disappeared as suddenly as they'd arrived. Well, except for the one Hermione decked. He continued to lay sprawled out on the stone floor, unconscious.

"Thank you," he breathed.

I believe you were criticizing my art again, little Miss Perfect...

"You can't just randomly kill Voldemort," Hermione said through grit teeth, attempting to hang on to the few shreds of rationality left. Her hair was beginning to look particularly frizzy and angry red splotches were unattractively staining her cheeks. "Hey...could we keep the physical criticism to ourselves?" she asked coldly.

Sorry...it just slipped out.

"And you sound so sincere."

"Uh...Hermione," Ron said. "I'd like to get this done as soon as I can. I'm due for a Mary Sue sex scene in less than two hours." He made a show of checking his watch. "Those girls are always wonderfully...eager."

"You oinking chauvinist," she spat.

As much as I applaud the sentiment, you were attempting to tell me why I am an insufficient author?

"I hate you," Hermione said bitterly.

Two words. Malfoy and Nutella. Take care, Miss Granger.

"Anyway," she sniffed, nose in the air and obviously ignoring the author's valid concerns about her work. "Voldemort's got to be killed in a confrontation. You know, a duel or something. He can't just walk out into traffic, as it were."

All right, all right. Sheesh.

----------

"So, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The time has come."

Harry held out his wand. "Hello, my name is Harry Potter. You killed my father; prepare to die..."

"Wait a minute," Hermione growled, looking upward threateningly.

What is it now?

"You know what it is," she said. "That's just silly."

Picky, picky. It worked for Inigo Montoya.

----------

"So, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The time has come."

"Lord Voldemort," Harry said, jerking his head in a slight nod and holding his wand at the ready. "I believe you are correct."

"I see you've finally become a man," Voldemort replied, eyes narrowing. "Your father would be proud of you, Harry."

"You are not fit to mention my father," he said coldly. "You are nothing but his murderer."

"And I will be yours as well!" the Dark Lord cried, lunging forward.

The door was suddenly flung wide open.

"Hey...no one said anything about the door being closed again!" "Ron, will you leave the damned door alone?" "Well, all right, but whoever it is this time better shut it after he gets in here."

A confused Severus Snape walked in, obediently shutting the door behind him.

"Thank you." "Ron!"

He took in the situation quickly and, ignoring every wizarding instinct he had, picked up a loose rock left over from the safe incident and chucked it at Voldemort's head.

The Darkest wizard of the modern age went down with a groan, blood pooling at the base of his skull.

"Damn it!" Harry cried, throwing his wand at the wall. "I'm never going to get to cast a spell in this awful fic!"

"What are you three doing here?" Snape asked with his trademark sneer. "I thought everyone had been sent to their Common Rooms after the Death Eaters got in. However they managed that little trick."

It's called a plot device. Back off.

Snape jumped, looking around for the source of the voice. "What was that?"

"We're dealing with a few creative difficulties, Professor," Hermione said apologetically. "For that matter, how did you get here?"

He shrugged. "Actually, I was looking for the faculty restroom. Albus thinks it's funny to put it in one of those wandering rooms."

"Well," she said, looking upward again, "I think it's clear from context that Harry ought to at least get in one shot at Voldemort, despite whatever's going on in your twisted little mind. Do I actually have to dig out the Fanfiction Code and read it to you?"

Fine. I get it. Voldemort has to die violently at Harry's hand. No problem. Is there a particular spell you want him to use? Would you like to stand some place special? Want a cup of tea or some scones while we're at it?

"I think you might benefit from some anger management therapy," Ron said gingerly, interrupting the flow of conversation. "That second boulder was a little telling."

I was just trying to do it correctly, thank you very much.

"Boulder?" Snape asked, interested.

"Don't ask," Harry groaned.

"I was curious about all this debris," Snape said innocently. "And, good Lord, is that an unconscious man wearing a goatskin skirt laying on the floor?"

"He has Roman hands," Hermione replied, nudging said Mongol with her booted toe. "Could we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Yes, by all means," Harry said.

Ron and Hermione assumed their previous positions, but Snape just looked around the room questioningly. "Uh...where do I...?"

You can stand there beside Hermione, Severus. Yes...that's it. Okay, I think we're good to go.

----------

"So, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The time has come."

"Indeed," Harry simply said. Quick as a flash, he raised his wand and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort barely had time to react, but he managed to dodge the curse, flicking his wand and shouting, "Crucio!"

Snape nudged Hermione. "I thought he always went straight for the Killing Curse."

"At least they're finally dueling," she replied with a small shrug.

They went back and forth a couple of times until they happened to cast their spells simultaneously, wands locking in Priori Incantem and spinning a golden web around them.

"I was wondering if she would remember that bit," Ron said, digging at his fingernail with his wand.

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling words rise in her mouth. "Come on, Ron, we've got to help Harry!"

"But...but...they're caught in Priori Incantem," he stammered. "You can't break through that!"

"Apparently in this story we can," she said, grabbing his arm. "Come on!"

And Hermione and Ron dashed forward, eager to help their struggling friend. Snape hovered on the fringes of the golden cage, wishing he could assist them somehow.

"Oh, be serious," Snape said dryly. "You think I want to go rushing to my doom?"

You want to write this, buster? Would you rather join them?

He'd always secretly felt as if Harry were the son he never had. Snape took a cautious step forward, hoping--

"All right," he said hastily. "I'm sorry. Here I am, hovering and wishing, just as ordered."

But the web sparked, sending Snape back toward the wall, frustrated at his uselessness.

Ron and Hermione stepped into the web carefully, amazed as their bodies were bathed in golden light. They didn't know how they'd managed to get through where so many had failed--"Meaning you don't know either..." Snape said from the sidelines.

Shut up, shut up!

But they were through and that was all that mattered. Harry paused long enough to give them a warming smile, and then they were all in the battle against the Dark Lord.

Joining hands, they all pointed their wands at Voldemort's heart. "Avada Kedavra," the trio chorused. In a move worthy of Captain Planet himself, their combined powers shot a green jet of light straight through the Darkest wizard of modern times.

With a floor-shattering death scream, Voldemort sank to the ground, lifeless.

"Wait...if he's lifeless, how did he--?"

"Just leave it, Ron," Harry replied tiredly.

Voldemort's body suddenly exploded, his evil power expanding outward in a shadowy cloud. Unfortunately, this miasma wrapped itself around a staggering Harry Potter and dissolved, leaving Harry laying on the floor, body already cooling, his face oddly relaxed in its death mask.

Ron's jaw dropped. "He's dead?"

"Why did you kill off Harry?" Hermione cried, incredulous.

I thought you implied angst was necessary to the plot.

"But Harry can't die!" Ron cried. "There was that whole bit with the prophecy in the fifth book! One of them has to survive or else it doesn't make sense. Damn it, have you even read the actual novels or did you just get the Cliff's Notes?" His eyes were wild and he wiped a smear of blood off his cheek angrily.

What, did you want to be the angsty sacrificial lamb? 'Cause we can go again if you'd like.

"Ron, just leave it alone," Hermione said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. "You don't want to have to do this a sixth time, do you? Besides, who knows what horrible things she'd do next?"

Silk scarves, Trelawney and Lucius Malfoy. You'd better watch it, girlie.

"Good Lord," Snape said, turning green at the thought.

The door burst open again, Ginny Weasley tumbling in. Her face blanched upon seeing Harry's dead body sprawled on the ground. Unceremoniously pushing the still-unconscious Mongol out of her way, she flung herself at Harry. "Oh, no! Not Harry!" she cried, tears smearing her impeccable mascara.

"Harry?" Draco Malfoy sobbed from the doorway, dropping down beside Ginny and weeping uncontrollably. "My one true love!"

"When did that happen?" Snape asked uncomfortably, watching the tearful Malfoy press kisses to Harry's cold lips.

"I think we'd be better off not knowing, sir," Hermione replied.

"Poor Harry," Albus Dumbledore said, stumbling into the room. "This is all my fault. If only I had manipulated you more, you might have been better prepared to face your destiny!" He knelt down on Harry's free side and patted the boy's head.

"He's had one too many lemon drops, hasn't he?" Snape mumbled.

"You know the fanfic Dumbledores," she said, waving her hand a bit.

"So..." Ron said to no one in particular, "what happens next?"

"Who knows?" Hermione put her face in her hands.

The sobs and cries of the mourners eventually died down. Dumbledore led a hiccupping Ginny out of the room, gently carrying Harry's body with him. A still tearful Malfoy turned to the three people standing uncomfortably in the corner. "I just don't know what to do without him!" he said.

Snape coughed a bit and Hermione looked down at her feet.

Ron gave him a shrug. "Life goes on, mate. Harry would have wanted it that way."

Malfoy sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, eliciting a grimace from his Head of House. "I suppose...hey, you know, for a Weasley, you're not too bad looking. D'you want to maybe, continue to comfort me in, say, my private chambers?"

Startled, Ron even forgot to ask how Malfoy managed to have a private room at Hogwarts. "Well...uh..." he hedged. "Look, can we make it quick? See, I've only got twenty minutes until I'm due for a Mary Sue."

Fluttering his eyelashes becomingly, Malfoy offered Ron a seductive smile. "I think I can manage that. Now come on...I've always wondered if all you Weasleys were actually natural redheads."

Ron allowed a nearly prancing Malfoy to lead him from the room by the hand.

Hermione and Snape exchanged a glance. "That might be the most disturbing thing I've ever seen," Snape said after a pause.

She sighed. "Whoever wrote this tripe should burn in hell. I feel violated."

I heard that!

Snape continued to look at her thoughtfully. "Would sex make you feel better?"

"Which author?"

"Your choice."

Hermione brightened. "Okay." Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the room, tossing a parting shot over her shoulder, "And by the way, I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy is just as poncey as his idiot son, so your threats are meaningless."

----------

Oh...wait...I forgot about someone...

Hrung the Mongol awoke with a groan. What had happened? One minute he was thundering down the steppes with the rest of his brethren, the next he was standing in some little room he'd never seen before. And he'd tried to introduce himself to that strange woman with the fluffy hair, but she'd hit him. What sort of barbaric hell was he in?

He picked himself up off the floor, wishing fervently that he hadn't dropped his sword somewhere out on the plains. It would certainly come in handy right about now.

All of a sudden, the plank of wood set into the stones surrounding him flew open. Hrung stepped backward with a surprised shout--what was that?

A woman wearing a strange pointed hat walked in, looking at least as shocked as he felt. She was a little older than him, but quite attractive, really, in an uptight, control-freak sort of way. Perhaps he ought to introduce himself.

Hrung stepped forward with a slight smile and reached his hands out...

FINIS

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