Snape gave his wand a flick and once again, as they had been doing for the
past seven years of Harry's life, instructions for another difficult potion
appeared on the board. Harry set out the needed ingredients for the potion
when his scar gave a throbbing twinge, as it had been doing the entire
summer and the few weeks since term had began. He grasped at it, but, as
fast as the pain had come, it was gone.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked nervously. Ever since their 5th year, Ron had always sounded worried whenever Harry had had an obvious stitch of pain in his scar. "Yes.. yes, I'm fine...just.." Harry muttered for what had felt to be at least the millionth time in these past few weeks. But there was something about the feeling that Harry had inside of him. It did not feel as though he was just having another throb upon his forehead. This feeling was different- it had seemed so much like a reality Harry was about to face, seemed as if the dungeon around him was beginning to lose its importance. It felt as if the reality and meaning of life was finally coming clear.
"He's.. he's.. here." Harry said in a loud, echoing voice that seemed so unlike his own. The dull talk around him faded, as did Harry's clear view of the room. Everything was slowly becoming a blur and Harry couldn't distinguish anything around him. He fell off his stool onto the cold stone floor. The room suddenly went entirely silent; it was the worst silence Harry had ever heard. "What the... Potter, what are you on about?" said a sneering voice that unmistakably belonged to Draco Malfoy.
"Potter?" said the voice of Severus Snape.
"Potter?" he whispered.
But this time, Snape's voice was not nearly as accusing as usual. On the contrary, it was nothing like it had ever been before. It almost sounded as if- yes, there was no other word for it- worried.
"He's here. Voldemort..." Harry bellowed again, no apparent control over what he was saying, yet his mind was panicking. What's going on? What's happening? He wanted to shout. But the thought were confined to his mind.
"Harry?" said Ron's distant voice. It shook with every syllable. "Harry? What are you talking about? I.. you... you
can't be Harry... can you?"
The room went silent for a moment except for a faint whispering in the farther end of the classroom. A high pitched, blood chilling scream met the class's ears. Harry heard several people gasp. Then, Harry abruptly had a freezing feeling rising in his chest. No, not again.. not now... please.. Harry thought. Harry knew who that scream belonged to. "NO!" he shouted. He had his own voice, but the next moment, the frozen feeling was sinking into his lungs and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Another loud, tormented voice screamed louder than Harry had ever heard it before.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now...." cackled Lord Voldemort.
The vision of this horrible scene was flashing thorough Harry's mind. "Not Harry! Please, no, take me, kill me instead-!" Harry regained his breathe and his heart felt as though it was going to rip through his chest. The visions carried on and a blinding green light consumed the outline of his mother. Everything went blank, and a new memory lit up his brain. The snake- like face of Lord Voldemort was drawing nearer towards him. Harry felt, in this memory, as though a huge invisible hand was curving his spine ruthlessly forward, and he heard loud, echoing laughs of circling Death Eaters. The pressure and pain lifted from his back. "And now you face me, like a man... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...." Harry could faintly hear people crying, as though they were miles away. He could feel the heat of people around him, outside of the horrifying memories inside of his head. Trembling, the visions grew clearer in his mind, so he could not focus on anything else. "..prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry... come out and play, then... it will be quick... it might even be
painless... I would not know.. I have never died...." The chilling feeling inside him was quickly replaced by white hot anger . He was shaking with the hate of seven years, ever since he had been unveiled to the truth of his parents' death.
"Harry! HARRY! Stop, Harry, please!" came the pleading voice of Hermione Granger. "Ron! What's happening?" she cried as another horribly memory came zooming into Harry's mind like a freight train. "Come on! You can do better than that!" barked his late godfather.
This was what Harry had been dreading. Two years had passed since Harry had experienced contact with his godfather, and now he was re-living his last moments with him. But this time, it all appeared in slow motion, and it felt as if the last of Harry's happiness was being drawn out of him.... "No!" yelled Harry, but no sound escaped his lips. He tried to make his mind's-self move from the place in the Department of Mysteries, to stop Bellatrix Lestrange from doing what Harry had been dreading. Stop her! Stop her! He tried to yell again. Harry then saw a bright red spell escape Bellatrix's wand and soar the few feet between her and Sirius. The spell hit Sirius square in the chest. He fell over stiff, with wide eyes and a light smile still on his face. "NOOO!" Ron's deep voice distantly shouted. But before Harry could react to the ending of this memory, another began to replace it. This time, however, no scene was portrayed, only voices. "CRUCIO!" shrieked the unfortunately familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. More tortured screams and moans echoed through the now hot, damp dungeon, though the horrible sounds did not come from Harry's fellow classmates or potions master. "Now, have you learned your lesson, Longbottom?" she asked in her falsely sweet voice. No! It can't be! No... no... Harry thought, but was interrupted. "Mum?" asked a voice from the past. Not since his 5th year had Harry heard that voice. Since the night of Sirius' death, Neville Longbottom had become quite the opposite of the boy he had arrived at Hogwarts as- a short, round faced, nervous, forgetful boy. Since that very night, he emerged from the Department of Mysteries, however, Neville had become nothing short of a hero.
Today, Neville stood tall and proud. The round boyish face had gone, and had been replaced by a strong, courageous, more grown up expression. The only thing that remained of the young face was the dark, deep, honest eyes. "Mum? Dad?" Neville slowly whispered in his fifteen year old voice. The room slid back into focus. Harry rolled over onto his back, and immediately felt Ron helping him sit up. Harry's hands automatically reached around the floor for his glasses. As his hands found them, so did another's. Harry looked up, and met the eyes of Severus Snape. "Here you go, Harry." He said in that quiet unlikely voice. Harry put on his glasses slowly. One lens was cracked, but Harry could still see a room full of pale, slightly wet faces encircling him. Over in the opposite corner of the dungeon, Harry saw Pansy Parkinson wipe a tear away from her face.
"What.. what happened?" asked Hermione quietly. She too wiped a tear from her eye.
"Shhh. It's okay. It's..." Ron whispered.
He pulled Hermione closer towards him, but Harry clearly noticed that Ron, too, was shaking.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked nervously. Ever since their 5th year, Ron had always sounded worried whenever Harry had had an obvious stitch of pain in his scar. "Yes.. yes, I'm fine...just.." Harry muttered for what had felt to be at least the millionth time in these past few weeks. But there was something about the feeling that Harry had inside of him. It did not feel as though he was just having another throb upon his forehead. This feeling was different- it had seemed so much like a reality Harry was about to face, seemed as if the dungeon around him was beginning to lose its importance. It felt as if the reality and meaning of life was finally coming clear.
"He's.. he's.. here." Harry said in a loud, echoing voice that seemed so unlike his own. The dull talk around him faded, as did Harry's clear view of the room. Everything was slowly becoming a blur and Harry couldn't distinguish anything around him. He fell off his stool onto the cold stone floor. The room suddenly went entirely silent; it was the worst silence Harry had ever heard. "What the... Potter, what are you on about?" said a sneering voice that unmistakably belonged to Draco Malfoy.
"Potter?" said the voice of Severus Snape.
"Potter?" he whispered.
But this time, Snape's voice was not nearly as accusing as usual. On the contrary, it was nothing like it had ever been before. It almost sounded as if- yes, there was no other word for it- worried.
"He's here. Voldemort..." Harry bellowed again, no apparent control over what he was saying, yet his mind was panicking. What's going on? What's happening? He wanted to shout. But the thought were confined to his mind.
"Harry?" said Ron's distant voice. It shook with every syllable. "Harry? What are you talking about? I.. you... you
can't be Harry... can you?"
The room went silent for a moment except for a faint whispering in the farther end of the classroom. A high pitched, blood chilling scream met the class's ears. Harry heard several people gasp. Then, Harry abruptly had a freezing feeling rising in his chest. No, not again.. not now... please.. Harry thought. Harry knew who that scream belonged to. "NO!" he shouted. He had his own voice, but the next moment, the frozen feeling was sinking into his lungs and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Another loud, tormented voice screamed louder than Harry had ever heard it before.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now...." cackled Lord Voldemort.
The vision of this horrible scene was flashing thorough Harry's mind. "Not Harry! Please, no, take me, kill me instead-!" Harry regained his breathe and his heart felt as though it was going to rip through his chest. The visions carried on and a blinding green light consumed the outline of his mother. Everything went blank, and a new memory lit up his brain. The snake- like face of Lord Voldemort was drawing nearer towards him. Harry felt, in this memory, as though a huge invisible hand was curving his spine ruthlessly forward, and he heard loud, echoing laughs of circling Death Eaters. The pressure and pain lifted from his back. "And now you face me, like a man... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...." Harry could faintly hear people crying, as though they were miles away. He could feel the heat of people around him, outside of the horrifying memories inside of his head. Trembling, the visions grew clearer in his mind, so he could not focus on anything else. "..prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry... come out and play, then... it will be quick... it might even be
painless... I would not know.. I have never died...." The chilling feeling inside him was quickly replaced by white hot anger . He was shaking with the hate of seven years, ever since he had been unveiled to the truth of his parents' death.
"Harry! HARRY! Stop, Harry, please!" came the pleading voice of Hermione Granger. "Ron! What's happening?" she cried as another horribly memory came zooming into Harry's mind like a freight train. "Come on! You can do better than that!" barked his late godfather.
This was what Harry had been dreading. Two years had passed since Harry had experienced contact with his godfather, and now he was re-living his last moments with him. But this time, it all appeared in slow motion, and it felt as if the last of Harry's happiness was being drawn out of him.... "No!" yelled Harry, but no sound escaped his lips. He tried to make his mind's-self move from the place in the Department of Mysteries, to stop Bellatrix Lestrange from doing what Harry had been dreading. Stop her! Stop her! He tried to yell again. Harry then saw a bright red spell escape Bellatrix's wand and soar the few feet between her and Sirius. The spell hit Sirius square in the chest. He fell over stiff, with wide eyes and a light smile still on his face. "NOOO!" Ron's deep voice distantly shouted. But before Harry could react to the ending of this memory, another began to replace it. This time, however, no scene was portrayed, only voices. "CRUCIO!" shrieked the unfortunately familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. More tortured screams and moans echoed through the now hot, damp dungeon, though the horrible sounds did not come from Harry's fellow classmates or potions master. "Now, have you learned your lesson, Longbottom?" she asked in her falsely sweet voice. No! It can't be! No... no... Harry thought, but was interrupted. "Mum?" asked a voice from the past. Not since his 5th year had Harry heard that voice. Since the night of Sirius' death, Neville Longbottom had become quite the opposite of the boy he had arrived at Hogwarts as- a short, round faced, nervous, forgetful boy. Since that very night, he emerged from the Department of Mysteries, however, Neville had become nothing short of a hero.
Today, Neville stood tall and proud. The round boyish face had gone, and had been replaced by a strong, courageous, more grown up expression. The only thing that remained of the young face was the dark, deep, honest eyes. "Mum? Dad?" Neville slowly whispered in his fifteen year old voice. The room slid back into focus. Harry rolled over onto his back, and immediately felt Ron helping him sit up. Harry's hands automatically reached around the floor for his glasses. As his hands found them, so did another's. Harry looked up, and met the eyes of Severus Snape. "Here you go, Harry." He said in that quiet unlikely voice. Harry put on his glasses slowly. One lens was cracked, but Harry could still see a room full of pale, slightly wet faces encircling him. Over in the opposite corner of the dungeon, Harry saw Pansy Parkinson wipe a tear away from her face.
"What.. what happened?" asked Hermione quietly. She too wiped a tear from her eye.
"Shhh. It's okay. It's..." Ron whispered.
He pulled Hermione closer towards him, but Harry clearly noticed that Ron, too, was shaking.