• Neville got into his small beat up car, he sighed, knowing that this was all he could afford. Neville never showed much promise at Hogwarts. He barely scraped by in his O.W.L.S, the only company that would take him was a plant store that his grandma’s friend owned. He did have one shining star though, Hermione. She made his meager life worthwhile. The thought of her distracted him from his crummy one room apartment. Neville’s TV currently sat on top of his refrigerator, which was within reach of the shower. The refrigerator sported ABC magnets, which Neville liked to arrange into words. Today, the refrigerator said, “You’re the best Neville.” He knew it was a lie, but tried to keep his outlook positive. This day, he would need much more than a kind word to keep him sane.
    Hermione had been going to Ron’s house everyday for the past week. Ron and Hermione had been collaborating on a new spell, so powerful, it would make them both rich. Neville supported this because he knew Hermione’s spell was his one shot at having some extra galleons. Today, Neville was going to surprise Hermione with some flowers from his workplace. The plant store was going out of business, so Neville would soon be out of a job. As he approached Ron’s house, a strange feeling passed over Neville. He shook it off and opened the door to Ron’s pad. He stepped in to the luxurious suite. He stepped into the living room. No one. He walked through the kitchen, nothing except an open bottle of champagne was on the counter. When he opened the door, it took him several seconds to comprehend what lie before him. On a large, rotating heart shaped bed, Ron and Hermione were making love. Ron babbled out an apology, and Hermione looked shocked. “You, you, you Mudblood!” shouted Neville. The look on his face can only be characterized as distraught. For a moment, nothing was said in the room. A rose petal drifted from Neville’s flowers and floated to the floor, not far from Hermione’s bare foot. For the first time in his life, Neville acted. He grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her out the door and to his car. Ron tagged along, trying unsuccessfully to pry Hermione from Neville’s hands. Neville opened the door to his car, still holding Hermione’s hair. He started his car, but Hermione freed herself from his grasp. She ran down the street, still bare. Neville pressed on the accelerator. She saw the car coming and jumped to the side, but unluckily for her, she dove into a parked car and bounced back into the street, getting her hair caught in Neville’s wheel. Neville continued driving, slapping Hermione’s body against the pavement in a circular motion as if it were a Barbie doll. Ron ran after Neville’s car, crying and screaming Hermione’s name. Neville looked in his rearview mirror and saw the bare clad Ron. He braked hard, and Hermione briefly ceased flapping. Neville threw the car in reverse and hit Ron as fast as the small car would go. Several neighbors were standing on their porches in horror. Neville stopped his car and opened the trunk. The vein on his head was visible from a distance. Neville felt hatred in his veins. How long had this been going on, he wondered. He pulled the rusty crowbar out of his old highway safety kit and approached the blubbering Ron. Ron’s ribcage was purple and obviously broken. Ron begged, “Neville, please, we’ve always been pals. Don’t kill me, Harry was in on it too.” These words angered Neville, “Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife!” His eyes shade changed into a murky red. He raised the crowbar and brought it down on Ron’s forehead with a sickening Crack! Blood and bits of bone splattered everywhere, there was on blood streak that spurted across his eye, but Neville did not blink. He kept on beating the face until the hole in Ron’s head grew, the accumulation on Neville’s face became mostly brain. After the hole had been beaten through to the pavement, Neville stood up. He heard a siren. Quickly, he walked over to Hermione’s skinned, battered body, and beat her head loose from the wheel. He sped off, now knowing that Harry Potter was also involved with Hermione. He cast disillusionment spell on his car, and drove to Harry’s house.
    “Hey mate,” Harry greeted Neville at a distance from his perch on his lawnmower. As Neville came closer to Harry’s front lawn, Harry noticed the blood caked on Neville’s face. “What’s going on Neville? What happened?” Neville twitched. His pace slackened as he approached Harry, he knew what had happened. Somehow, Neville had found out about the passionate affair that Harry and Hermione had been sharing for the past two years. Neville began to circle Harry’s lawnmower. Neville quietly raised his dingy wand towards Harry and cast a stunning spell at Harry’s face. The result was a purplish welt on Neville’s face. The spell had gone awry. He had mispronounced the incantation. Harry laughed, “Is that all you can do Neville. I always knew you were a loser. Hermione said you could not skillfully handle your wand.” Neville dropped his wand. From his robe, he pulled out the rusty crowbar. In one swoop, he knocked Harry off the lawnmower. As he dragged Harry to the car, a deep, cold laugh came from Neville. He considered his future, and reasoned that revenge was better.
    Harry woke up. It was completely dark. After a few seconds, pain flooded through Harry’s body, stemming from his private area and his feet. In agony, he felt for his wand. He realized that he was bare. He felt his private area, the source of the most of his agony. He felt a small stick where his genitalia would be. He realized that someone, probably Neville, had castrated and cruelly sewn Harry’s wand to his genitalia. Harry began to panic. He was obviously in a closed box, possibly locked or underground. He began to scream and claw at the box. As he writhed around, he felt a strange sensation in his feet. He paused and wiggled his toes. Horrified, Harry screamed loudly and tried to sit up, his head smacked the top of the box. He realized that his toes had been cut off. Furthermore; his ankles had been slit, leaving him with no foot function. He soon realized the air was getting thin. As he lay naked, bleeding from several holes, he tried to use magic. He reached down to his 13.5 inch wand and realized that Neville had snapped it down to a mere stub. He tried to cast the Lumos spell, instantly the box was lit, he was in a long octagonal box. It looked like he was in a coffin. The light also revealed his bloody, dirty skin, and his surrogate wand. As the atmosphere in the box became inhospitable, Harry drifted off, feeling a slight pain on his forehead.
    When he finally came back into conciseness, sunlight beamed down on him. He feebly raised his head out of the now open box that he predicted rightly to be a pine coffin. He sat up and looked around at a field in the English countryside, complete with wild flowers and sheep grazing in the distance. His box was lying in the very center of the field. He tried to get his bearings. About 200 feet from his box, he saw a dirty white trailer. As he watched, the trailer door opened, revealing Neville. Neville saw that Harry was still alive, and ran toward the coffin. Harry felt adrenaline running through his veins. He knew what he had to do. He raised himself up, and tried to jump out of the small pine coffin. Instead of a nice hop, Harry collapsed in pain. Harry had forgotten that his ankles were slit and the flesh would open up if he attempted to walk. As Harry stared up at the morning blue sky, Neville’s face appeared above his. Neville looked at Harry, and simply said, “You’re pathetic.” Neville ripped the small stubby wand off of Harry and stuffed the stick in Harry’s mouth. “God help you Harry,” said Neville. With that, he raised his right foot, and brought the heel of his foot on Harry’s eye. The glass from Harry’s glasses went straight to Harry’s brain, killing him instantly. Neville stood and stared at the sheep in the distance. A gentle breeze rustled through the field. Neville’s eyes had sunken deep into his skull. The bright sun glinted off his blue eyes in the coldest of ways.
    The next morning, Neville awoke in the dingy trailer. He made himself a light breakfast, and had his morning tea. He took a shower and put on his old stained leather apron. He opened the screen door and walked into the shade of a nearby tree. Under it stood a sawhorse, and next to the sawhorse was a trunk full of dead bodies. With a deep sigh, he pulled a disfigured body from the box. He placed Hermione’s body in position and began sawing. The work was slow because his saw was dull. He sighed again. As the chunks piled higher, Neville’s eyes swelled with tears. His only consolation was that life would soon be over. He gathered up the chunks, and placed them back in the bloody trunk. As he was placing the chunks in the box, the small wand fell out of Harry’s mouth and bounced off Neville’s knee. Neville looked at the grubby stick and paused. Suddenly, a smile broke out on his face and he chuckled.
    As the summer sun set over England, Neville’s small car reached the top of the bridge. The bridge was not especially large, but accommodated with much traffic. It formed a conservative arch over a quiet river. Neville parked his car horizontally in the middle of the road. Today, traffic was really backed up, so cars instantly began honking, disturbing the silence of the scene. Neville opened the trunk of his car and pulled out the box, and dragged it to the edge of the bridge. He muttered something in French, and pushed the box over the edge, sending it hurdling into the river. The lid opened when the box landed because he forgot to lock the trunk. The body parts started to drift. He cared not, and laughed at the minor triviality. He walked back to his car and pulled out a container of kerosene. Chuckling to himself, he drenched himself with the golden fluid and staggered to his front seat, casting the used bottle aside. He sat down in the driver’s seat and leaned over to the glove compartment. He pulled out the lighter, and laughed again at the fact that he had never smoked. Hermione had told him not to. The smell of kerosene was thick. He got out of his car and climbed on top. He screamed to the innocent bystanders “good bye world!” and lit himself on fire. The flame soared up 10 feet. Motorists half got out of their cars and watched in awe. Neville stumbled off his car, screaming. He finally had felt reality with the immense pain, and attempted to douse himself in the river. As his face melted off, Neville approached the edge. With a mighty effort, he tumbled off the bridge and splashed among his former friends’ limbs. Neville lie face down in the water.
    In the immediate aftermath of the incident, hundreds of wand light vigils were held throughout the wizard community. When the Vernon family heard about Harry’s death, the whole family cried, including Dudley. At the Ministry of Magic, the scene was of chaos, with hundreds of wizards scrambling about trying to understand what had happened and erase memories. The event had been called a “national tragedy” by the British prime minister. Apart from the mourning and chaos, a small pine box lay open, gaping up at the sky. It bore stains of the worst nature. Under the tree in the distance lay a bloody sawhorse, a saw, and a cigar cutter. The horror had departed the scene, leaving only the cold inanimate objects of terror. The trailer door stood open, flapping in the wind.