A Short Story

by Benjamin Crum

The doorbell rang.
"I'll get" said Harry as he rose slowly from his arm chair.

A fire crackled and danced on the hearth. A Bach concerto floated wistfully in the air from some unknown recess upstairs. It was one of those crisp early-winter days when you don't want to roll out of bed.

A short, stout man was on the doorstep. "G'day" he said in a quick, yet kind sort of way. "Might I 'ave an moment of your time?"

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. Oh how he wished he could simply vanish at times like these. Or better yet, how he wished he could make others vanish, make them just go away.

"Sorry" he said, trying to think of a really good excuse, "I, uh, that is..." Nothing came to mind. Perhaps it was the cold air on his face mixed with the warm, beckoning fire at his back, Harry could think of nothing to say.

"It'll take but an moment" the man reassured. Harry hadn't noticed the man inching his way closer and closer. The man was nearly standing on Harry's slippered feet. In times past Harry would have been on his guard. In his quick-witted youth he would have been able to sense, to smell the very grave danger he was in. He would have reacted in a flash, perhaps even a blinding flash. But now, middle aged and lazy, his mind was preoccupied with the life of routines, chores, work, and mortgage payments. Where once he thought of his next great adventure, now he only thought of his next TV-dinner or the next season of Lost.

Harry fell to the floor. He hadn't even had time to hear the shot. It all happened so fast and as he looked down on himself, seeing the short man step over him, he thought "so this is it, this is the end of my tale... this is the end of Mr. Harry Potter?" His eyes closed, and all was dark, cold and dark.



I have never read more than one chapter of a Harry Potter book. I thought, though, that you fans may want some closure. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.