He's not dead yet

Chapter 1: Something Completely Different

Chapter 1: Something Completely Different

He's Not Dead Yet

Hello Dear Readers,

Some of you may know that I have already posted this story; still more of you may remember that I was forced to delete it because of some asshole who threatened to report me for the use of song lyrics. Well, I decided to use the time until now to do some revising of the story and I think I've made it better. I'm going to cut back on the blatant Monty Python scenes which had been a big problem in the original. Anyway, please enjoy the newly revised and reposted version of "He's Not Dead Yet."

I own not that great work known as Harry Potter, nor do I own anything in relation to Monty Python's Flying Circus.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his. Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear.

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

(J.K. Rowling)

"Alright, take a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry opened his eyes. He was now in what looked like a waiting room. The walls were simple but had a few paintings hung upon them; there were some sofas where a few people were sitting patiently, waiting. The voice that had greeted him belonged to a rather tired-looking young man that Harry could've sworn he had seen before. The man was of average height, with short, well-groomed, brown hair and dark, hazel-brown eyes. Harry quickly obeyed what the man had said and sat down.

"If you'll just wait here, Mr. Potter, we'll be with you in a moment," the man continued before ushering another person through the door. "This one's a quick case."

Harry then began to take note of the other people in the room; he recognized them all as people who had been at the battle, including...

"Fred?"

"Hmm?" The red-headed boy looked up from a magazine he was reading and, on seeing Harry, smiled. "Heya, Harry. They got you, too?"

"Sort of."

"Ah, well, that's war, innit? How'd you go?"

"Gave myself up to Voldemort."

"Why the bloody hell would you do that?" Fred looked shocked and appalled.

"Well, I found out that I had a Horcrux in my head and that the only way to defeat Voldemort is for all his Horcruxes to be destroyed. Besides, if I hadn't, he was going to kill everyone."

"Blimey."

"That's exactly what we wish to speak to you about, Mr. Potter," said the man from before. "That 'Horcrux' business should have been dealt with sooner, but that bastard Dumbledore-"