As I lay dying in the dimly lit extensive chamber with towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting a long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place, blood spurted out of my body in torrents, streaming over the marbled floor in this once-spectacular-secret-chamber of my master and his venerable ancestor.
Even though I deem dying for my master as a greatest of all honors, I cannot help mourning my end. It’s awful. As you may see, the poisonous fang of Basilisk, the great green serpent of my master’s venerable ancestor with bright colored yellow eyes that could kill the victim the moment he/she/it looks at it (unfortunately, it managed to kill only one mad Myrtle girl fifty years ago and all other so-called victims of this useless Basilisk are just petrified, much to my master’s dismay), had punctured my heart with its venom making a sizzling hole in the middle of my chest not only slaughtering me but also my master, who writhed in unbearable agony and died by disappearing into mist, which I had to confess with an unendurable torment.
I was overwhelmed when I saw my master screaming out of pain seeing the Potter boy plunging the fang straight into my torso, causing me and my master a great deal of misery. I was always proud of containing and concealing my master’s memory that too for fifty years but when I came to know that I’m one of the seven Horcruxes, in the sixth part of the Harry Potter collection: The Half Blood Prince, (I heard about Horcruxes when I was laying in the Dumbledore’s table in his beautifully illuminated office alongside the Gryffindor Sword and some burned broken stone.
The Head Master pointed out to me and the inglorious stone with his half blackened left hand and told the Potter boy about my master splitting his esteemed soul to attain immortality and stowed in seven peculiar powerful objects) I was hurt. But still I was pleased to know I’m the first Horcrux. But I don’t go boosting about it. You know that.
You may even think I’m less significant comparing the other things that made a Horcrux, as the objects except me are precious on its own, like the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw which is said to be the key of powerful knowledge and wisdom, the Locket of Slytherin household, The Resurrection Stone in the Marvolo Gaunt’s Ring, one of the Deathly Hallows, unknown to my master, who made it a Horcrux due to his lack of knowledge, the Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup and his supposed favorite Nagini, the Snake (which was to die ashamedly by the hands of silly Neville Longbottom at the last chapter of the last part of the Novel), and the seventh Horcrux, that even my master never knew till his death, is the Potter boy himself, but even though I’m not valuable like them I’m so special for my master as not only I’m offered with his soul but also with the memories he admired a lot, which other Horcruxes deprived of.
Now I was left all alone in this chamber to bereave my death myself. The only sound in the chamber is the drip drip of the ink still oozing out of my pierced diary pages. Beside me lying dead is the giant serpent Basilisk whose body coiled, his eyes poked and punctured by the singing phoenix bird Fawkes and killed by the potter boy who drove the Gryffindor Sword to the hilt right into the roof of the serpent’s mouth.
Wait! Wait! I hope you haven’t read the Second part: Harry Potter and the Chamber of the Secrets because the muggle-born Rowling might mislead you by weaving a tale of me having stuffed into the old filthy sock and presented to Mr. Lucius Malfoy just to free the traitor Dobby, an elf, much to my apprehension, which I consider to be a greatest disgrace for a well-regarded pure-blood Horcrux like me.
PS: Excuse me for not telling my master’s name as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
kilk 
Loved your intertextuality. This story proves your scholarly greatness. … Faulkner will get a new dimension from his novel to this Short story if he has been alive now…
LikeLike
Thank you Krishna
LikeLike
As I lay dying is a must-read feast for potterheads. The immense study and fascination of Harry Potter series incepts this plot in author’s mind is evident in the flow of narration. The dying narrator puzzles the reader of his/her/its unknown identity and the dark setting creats gloominess in the mind. After a while, unveiling the narrator, not a person, but a diary, one of the Horcruxes, itself is astonishing. moreover, the reliability on an object is suspended on the go. Nevertheless, ridiculously enjoyable is the ending with the diary (not even a character for the sake of J.K.’s status) abominating Rowling’s writing itself.👌👌
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Khaled ☺️
LikeLike
How about a mini version of Harry Potter series from the other’s perspective? It might take seven perspective change if the writer had chosen seven horcruxes to speak. Keeping in mind, the limitation of the theme, the writer has carefully woven her story through one horcrux, and that too the first horcrux, the Tom riddle’s diary that the master created. The story eventually derives from an already magical and illusion filled book, which in itself a challenge to procure. The fascinating element is the agony of the horcrux, which distinguishes it’s characteristics with the other horcruxes, which puts a question in the Minds of the readers, as why Rowling did not think from this perspective and it also legitimately makes our writer unique. The knowledge of the established series and deriving from its influence has made the theme and plot selection easy for the writing, nonetheless, the narrative sequences should have gobbled a lot of thinking process in the mind of the reader. The reference to rowling’s ambiguity or so to say her misleading the readers, is a dauntless say from the writer, which makes the writing more powerful. The likes of Ramayana and the perspective shift from ram to ravan, has proved the beguilement of the teachings of the epic, similarly this story proves how a slight modification in character perspective might make an entire Rowling story look weak and limping. The writer could have used the theme in a different story frame for higher effects. On the whole, a thorough postmodern tale.
Contest status : highly commended…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you sir… It’s indeed a last minute writing . Will try producing better writings than this sir
LikeLiked by 1 person