Last night I was asked to read a two-minute "fan fiction" piece. Here it is:
Early that day the weather turned and the snow was melting into dirty water. Streaks of it ran down from the giant ogre-high window that faced the back of Hogwarts. Centaurs slushed by on the street outside, where it was getting dark. But it was getting dark on the inside too.
Voldemort was in the bedroom pushing dark robes into a suitcase when Harry came to the door.
I’m glad you’re leaving! I’m glad you’re leaving! Harry said. Do you hear?
Voldemort kept on putting his things into the suitcase.
Son of a bitch! I’m so glad you’re leaving! Harry began to cry. You can’t even look me in the face, can you?
Then Harry noticed the dementor’s picture on the bed and picked it up.
Voldemort looked at him and Harry wiped his eyes and stared at Voldemort before turning and going back to the defense against the dark arts classroom.
Bring that back, Voldemort said.
Just get your wand and get out, Harry said.
Voldemort did not answer. He fastened the suitcase, put on his cloak, looked around the room before turning off the light with an expellius lampus spell. Then he went out to the great hall.
Harry stood in the doorway of the little kitchen, holding the dementor.
I want the dementor, Voldemort said.
Are you crazy?
No, but I want the dementor. I’ll get someone to come for its things.
You’re not touching this dementor, Harry said. The dementor had begun to cry and Harry uncovered the tattered robes from around its head.
Oh, oh, Harry said, looking at the dementor.
Voldemort moved toward him.
For Dumbeldore’s sake! Harry said. Harry took a step back into the kitchen.
I want the dementor.
Get out of here!
Harry turned and tried to hold the dementor over in a corner behind the cauldron.
But Voldemort came up. He reached across the cauldren and tightened his hands on the dementor.
Let go of him, he said.
Get away, get away! Harry cried.
The dementor was pale-faced and screaming. In the scuffle they knocked down a flying broom that hung behind the cauldren. Voldemort crowded Harry into the wall then, trying to break his grip. He held onto the dementor and pushed with all his weight.
Let go of him, he said.
Don’t, Harry said. You’re hurting the dementor, Harry said.
I’m not hurting the dementor, Voldemort said.
The kitchen window gave no light. In the near dark Voldemort worked on Harry’s fisted fingers with one hand and with the other hand he gripped the screaming dementor up under an arm near the shoulder.
Harry felt his fingers being forced open. Harry felt the dementor going from him.
No! Harry screamed just as his hands came loose.
Harry would have it, this dementor. Harry grabbed for the dementor’s other arm. Harry caught the dementor around the boney wrist and leaned back.
But Voldemort would not let go. Voldemort felt the dementor slipping out of his hands and he pulled back very hard.
In this manner, the second wizarding war was decided.