Harry Potter. Harry wishes he died on Halloween, and this becomes true. Ginevra Weasley is an rather lonely and quite child, but an strange boy apears one day.
Harry stared at the picture, it was the one with him and Siruis. "God", he muttered.
He heard an knock on the door. "Boy, make our breakfest", Aunt Petunua yelled. Harry sighed and got up, leaveing his picture on the bed.
He went down and made them their breakfest. "Hurry up or you will wish you weren't born", Vernon growled as he continued to read the newspaper.
"I wish i wasn't born", Harry muttered. No one heard him.
It was night, and he was sent to the bedroom with a loaf of bread. He eat it, and continued to stare at him and Siruis. He felt an tear in his eye.
Harry went to sleap, and something happened. In the night sky, an shooting star was seen.
James Potter and his wife Lily were laughing in delight as Siruis told them an story of what happened to him and his date.
"Oh goodness, look at the time", Lily pointed at the watch. "I guess we better get back", Lily got up and James moaned.
"See you later Padfoot", James waved. "You too Prongs".
James and Lily apparated, and weren't prepared at the sight of what they saw.
Their cottage was in ruins, and Lily screamed. She ran, and James chased after her. "Not Harry", she kept screaming.
Lily ran into the nursery, and puked. There, on the cot, was Harry Potter, dead. However, there was an scar shaped like an lightening bolt on his forehead.
The room was in ruins, but Lily didn't care. She picked up Harry, and begged James to bring him back to life.