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Harry blindly stumbled from the rotating stairs leading to Dumbledore's office to Gryffindor tower, still almost shaking with rage and grief. In the dim light of his dormitory room he changed into pajamas and tumbled into bed, wanting only to be left alone. Throwing his glasses onto his nightstand, he stared blindly up into his canopy, ignoring the small sounds of the other boys readying for bed. He lay there, looking blankly upwards, as sound gradually dimmed, and he was left alone with his thoughts, without even Ron's snoring to disturb him. Flinching from the thought of Ron, he was stuck with everything else: the veil, Sirius, the prophecy. My fault, everything. he thought miserably. Forcibly, he tried to shove it all away, block out reality, think of nothing, until slowly, he was able to fall asleep.
Awareness returned with a painful jerk. Harry opened his eyes to a sinister dream world; pinned in place by terror, he watched Sirius fall through the veil again, almost in slow motion as the sheer inevitability of it slowed time to a crawl. Trying to escape, Harry wrenched his eyes from the scene, wanting to be anywhere else but there. With a desperate mental twist, he found himself Elsewhere. A blackened abyss, strangely silent without his mental agonies. Thoughts gentled by the peaceful emptiness, he stood there, breath becoming less ragged, heart slowing, until finally his natural curiosity came to the fore. Wanting to see what his mind had conjured, he turned around in a slow circle, looking around, and finally up, seeing nothing but darkness. Looking more closely at the space around him, he realized that it wasn't a perfect blackness. At the very edge of his vision, there was a flaw, something seeping through a hairline crack in ebony. He walked toward it, drawn by a faint sense of familiarity, until it resolved into a faint line of green light. Slowly, he reached his hand up, the light brightened, until it seemed to reach out and lick his fingers with a cool flame, and suddenly he was engulfed.
Green flames ran over his skin, melted into his body, caressed his bones, reaching into his core, until finally, it seemed to accept him, retreating the way that they had come, leaving him tousled and warmed by what felt a bit like affection, if is was possible for a mind construct to have emotions. Returning to himself, he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) and realized instantly that he wasn't where he had started. Looking out is seemed as though a bubble of thin obsidian, illuminated by some unknown source, surrounded him. Wary now, he moved to retreat, stumbling a bit, and falling into what felt like an ice-cold river, which quickly engulfed him.
Thrashing around, he tried to escape, but as soon as his head went under, he was completely overwhelmed. Scenes swirled through his head, with sensations only partially removed.
: Shivering under a too-thin blanket, the smell of dust choking in the air, wooden slats poking into ribs, and a sense of such utter despair, with rage lurking underneath:
: Calculated indifference covering wary excitement while looking at a Hogwarts letter:
: Joy while standing in the Chamber of Secrets, seeing the basilisk obey for the first time:
:Sharp satisfaction, staring down at the body of his thrice-cursed muggle father:
: The beginnings of smug superiority, holding his first horcrux:
The memories continued, flooding Harry with emotion and sensation, and a soon overwhelming feeling of growing rage, first burning hot, and then slowly banking down into a cold, hard knot, as more and more pieces of soul were separated out, until the only thing left was madness. When he was finally confronted by the spectre of his own parents' death, along with the painful dislocation of fractured soul from body, Harry was able to finally wrench himself free, desperation clawing at him, trying to find any way out, reaching out and out and out, until finally, nerves screaming, he felt himself separate, leaving behind Voldemort's white-hot rage, and a certainty that it had been a fair exchange.