The Boy Who Ought To Be Dead - H.P

II - The Boy Who Lived

"As the dead rise to live, the live sink to die, the currents are deep and raging inside."
- Lou Reed

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[Friday 10]

Taken from chapter LI, book one:
-Within the casket six-feet under the ground, laid a breathtakingly selfless boy who's emerald green eyes slowly fluttered open.-

His head pounded viciously and his vision swam dramatically. Breathing felt more difficult than it should, and he found it hard to move his limbs.

"Ugh," Harry groaned. He tried to sit up, but only ended up hitting his head.

"What the fuck?" He asked himself. The pain from knocking his head woke him up a little bit.

He managed to open his eyes fully now, but he noticed that all he could see was darkness.

"What the fuck?" He repeated, not recalling where he was.

He tried to move comfortably, only to realise that he was in some sort of box.

"What..." he whispered, not knowing what was happening.

Fully awake now, he took in his surroundings. His conclusion was that he was trapped in a small space.

"Where the fuck am I?" He questioned, "I could be in one of two places right now, I could be stuck in a box at Malfoy manor, or I could be buried alive."

Of course he didn't know he was, in fact, buried alive, it was merely a joke to keep him sane.

He groaned as he tried to move a little bit, "okay next question: why am I here?"

"Well, either death eaters or Voldy no-nose put me here, or I am dead." Harry replied to himself, "I don't know which one sounds more believable."

Harry felt around the box he was in. Just then, he felt a long stick next to his leg.

"If this is my wand, I am the luckiest person alive." He spoke before he saw the object he was touching.

He lifted it up, and it was indeed his wand.

"Oh my, thank Merlin!" Harry shouted in joy.

He positioned his wand to the lid of the box, "bombarda!"

The lid blasted open and flung all the dirt above it away. It skipped Harry's notice how foreign his wand felt in his hand.

Harry sat up in the box, feeling victorious, "take that, Tom."

He proceeded to stand, ignoring his body's complaints. He was eager to get out of the box. His claustrophobia was close to acting up.

"Now how am I supposed to get out?" He asked himself stupidly.

"Incarcerous!" He shouted, summoning ropes. It was his only hope. This time, he noticed how foreign the wand felt in his hands. He chose not to acknowledge it, however.

"Ha, it worked!" He sounded proud of himself.

He threw the rope up to the surface and casted a spell that made the rope stick the the floor.