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Harry Potter: An Alternate Ending


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Tom sat up in bed as the room went dark. He had been lying in bed, semiconscious as his mind danced on the edge of reality and slumber. He wanted so desperately to escape the bleak and perplexing existence he woke up to every morning and eluded every night when he slipped into his dreams. He did not control his imaginings, but perhaps somewhere in the dark corridors of his mind, something, someone, concocted the most beautiful tales for him to experience. But now, he sat shivering and surfacing from his sleepy haze. The street light across the dreary street from his window suddenly went out, plunging his tiny bedroom into a black inky sea. As his eyes adjusted, Tom looked through his window pane to the street below. Now darker than usual, Tom was startled to see a caped figure approaching the building, his orphanage. The figure moved swiftly, as if hovering slightly above the ground. Tom watched the shadow come closer to the building and stop outside the large wrought iron gate. He lifted his head slowly, stopping so his pale face was exposed. Tom’s heart shuddered as the man looked directly at his window- at him. As quickly as the figure appeared, he vanished. For a quick moment, Tom convinced himself that he had imagined it. Just as he turned away from his window, his eyelids drooping, a gust of cold wind materialized in front of him, accompanied by a blindingly bright light.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Let us go back in time, so to speak, to just minutes before, or rather, 56 years into the future.

Severus Snape paced the length of his office. As he walked, his fingers worked away, turning the center of a golden necklace, a time turner. Severus had been working on his plan for months, and the night was finally here to put it into action. His fingers worked mechanically on the circular necklace. He counted in his head as he went, 58, 59, 60... 490,560. As he turned the necklace for the last time, Severus pulled a vile from the depths of his robe. He took a small sip of its thick golden contents, his body flooding with warmth from his anticipation. Tonight, as the whole of Hogwarts slept, he would go, 56 years, 490, 560 hours, into the past. He would save his beloved Lilly, and countless other innocent wizards and witches. Tonight, he would to kill Tom Riddle.

Tom jumped back in surprise, shivers running through his veins. A man was now standing in his room. His cloaks were midnight black and so was his hair; his pale face was contorted with anger. The man seized Tom by throat, easily lifted the eleven year old. Tom couldn’t breathe, and as the edges of his vision began to blur, he heard the man whisper, “This is for Lilly, for Harry, for everything you have done.” Dazed confusion blanketed Tom’s mind as he looked pleadingly at the man whose hand was now tightening around his neck. As his eyes closed and his lungs tightened, the cruel and lonely world he knew went black and all fell to silence.



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