Harry had won the battle, Voldemort was defeated, but when Hermione and Ron searched for Harry’s body, they found all that remained was his scar.
Harry and Hermione stood silently at Ron Weasly’s headstone. “I’ll miss an awful lot about about the old boy,” said Harry, holding back a single tear. “What I’ll miss the most, I think, is his car.”
I’m tired of this mutherfucking lightning bolt on my mutherfucking scar.
Harry sits bolt upright in bed and smacks his forehead against the underside of the Dursley’s stairs. “Dammit,” he thought, “I’m never gonna lose this scar…”
“Thank heavens you were able to defeat Voldemort,” Ginny said with relief, taking Harry into her arms.
“Yeah,” said Harry, kissing her as she’d never been kissed before. He smiled. “Now let’s get out of here. I feel like taking a long trip somewhere far away from Hogwarts. We’ve waited long enough for our honeymoon, haven’t we?”
“I know just the place,” his young bride said, warmly returning his smile as she pulled out a tourist brochure for Madagascar.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermoine said, “we could have had such a damned good time together.”
Ahead was a wizard in uniform directing traffic. He raised his wand.The car slowed suddenly pressing Hermoine against Harry.
“Yes,” Harry said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”
“I mean except for your scar.”
Even though Voldemort was now powerless to hurt them, the remaining Members of the Order could not find it in themselves to rejoice.
Finally Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes on her apron, and heavily pushed herself away from the table. “Harry would have wanted us to be happy and feast” she said tearfully and opened the icebox. “Is it too late to thaw this ham?”
Hermoine: What was the name of that frakin raider that Starbuck helped Kat kill?
Harry: Scar.
Harry determined that his reduced circumstances would not get him down. The trash can was roomy, and after a bit of cleaning it no longer stank. It would be home to him, and the new green fur that Voldemort had cursed him with was at least cosy and insulating. To mark his new life, he resolved to reinvent himself utterly. “Henceforth,” Harry said to himself, a trifle grouchily, “I shall be known as Oscar.”
“… and I would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids and your scar.”
Harry plopped down on the sofa with a cold brew in one hand and the remote control in the other. TVLand was showing a marathon of The Odd Couple. Despite his foul mood, Harry couldn’t help but laugh as Tony Randall shook his head and said, “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar.”
Harry and Ginny’s honeymoon in the U.S. finally allowed them to rest.
“I’m glad you’ve found something other than Quidditch to obsess about, Harry!”
“I didn’t think i’d like American sports, but I am enjoying this Nascar”.
As his nemesis loomed above him, Harry’s defiant last words rang out: “You aren’t scary. You don’t scare me one bit. It takes more than this to scar…”
Voldemort was defeated, but greater evils awaited him. Knowing he could not expose his friends to more danger, Harry stowed away aboard a train.
“Is he in a Pullman car?” asked Ron.
“No,” replied Hermione, “He’s in a boxcar.”
I think you just won the thread.
The man placed his hand on Harry’s forehead. “In the name of Isbala, I punish you, alchemist.”
“Wait!” shouted Ron. “He’s a wizard, not an alchemist.”
“Meh.”
“Just who are you, anyway,” asked Harry trying not to tremble.
“At one point this body had a name given to it by Isbala, but I am no longer worthy of it. Some call me…”
Suddenly they were all crushed by a zepplin.
“That’s the second one this week, Edward.”
“Quiet, old man.”
Sadly, all that remained between Harry’s legs was a deep, puckered scar.
Bobby “Harry” Ewing awoke from his dream of being a English schoolboy wizard and went into the shower as part of his morning toilet routine. Emerging he saw his wife Pam* over his shoulder in the mirror. He looked but couldn’t see upon his forehed any trace of a scar.
- Odd she had large teeth and a bushy head of unruly hair.
Ron and Hermoine stood embracing at the crest of the hill. The wind swept through their hair as they sadly looked over the smoldering ruins of Hogwart’s.
Ron sighed. “It is over. It is time to return to the Muggles.”
With a slight smile, he raised his hand and traced in the empty space before them
the Sign of the Scar.
With the death of Voldemort, Harry had lost the powers transferred to him as a baby by the Dark Lord’s failed attempt to kill him. He could no longer talk to snakes, and he could no longer cast many of the spells that came so easily to him at Hogwarts.
With some regret, he turned his back on the wizarding world and returned to live among the Muggles. He still lives among us today, taking the very same subways and buses and walking the same streets we do. You may even recognize him, a stranger no different from you or I, except for the telltale lightning-bolt shaped scar.
…with that, Voldemort uttered a growled incantation and gestured with gnarled fingers toward the herbaceous border, turning small innocuous invertebrates into fierce and mighty predatory beasts. Harry dodged the snapping jaws of a centipede only to be trapped beneath the slime-laden, sticky foot of a snail, grown to the size of a house by the dark lord’s wicked charm.
Crushed and pinned beneath the massive gastropod, Harry looked pleadingly at his terror-frozen companions. As the life and breath was pressed out of him forever he cried out one last time; “Help, Ron! I’m being squashed by a massive escar…”