Harry moved down the twisted hallways at a furious pace, too enraged to go back to his dorm and study like a good little Gryffendor. His hand throbbed with every heartbeat, making him constantly aware of the words carved into his skin. It felt like a brand, another scar that made him different and forced him apart from the other students.
Does this one make me insane too? he thought venomously.
He rounded another bend, blind to the cheery sunlight pouring in through the castle windows. He was almost angry at the sun for daring to shine when he was in such a black mood. It felt like it should be midnight, or that the sky should be bruised purple with the boiling clouds of a storm. The furious teenager had finally walked off enough nervous energy and came to a stop in a hall of windows that was curiously devoid of statue or painting. He was grateful for that. He didn't want to listen to enchanted art whisper about him while he was trying to relax and calm down. He got enough of that during regular classes.
Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that his parents had stayed behind as ghosts, like Nearly-Headless Nick. It was a selfish wish, and he didn't think that given the actual opportunity he would pull his parents back from their well-earned afterlife, but it was one he often entertained when he needed to spin out a fantasy to relax in. Oddly, he never tried to pretend they hadn't died at all. Maybe because that was just too unreal.
His heart beat slowed from its furious pumping, and his burning sleep starved eyes slipped closed. Nowadays he only felt truly calm when he was completely alone. Umbridge, the ministry's blind denial when they could actually do something, Dumbledore's avoidance… they all made for serious fuels to his anger and he could barely stand being around his friends when he felt like a ticking time bomb. He knew they were good friends, especially when sticking by him was poor for their health or their grades, and probably even their emotional wellbeing. He didn't want to be angry all the time, but then, anger was easier to lose himself in than the crushing despair and betrayal he felt all the time. Or the nervous energy of wanting to do something.
A small pessimistic side of him sometimes just whispered that he should give up. It told him it would be so much easier to break than to keep holding onto everything around him. After all, then they'd all get exactly what they deserved when Voldemort finally decided to show himself.
But he couldn't think like that. Death was not an answer for him. He laughed dryly. With his luck he'd come back a ghost and be exactly where he started, only having to deal with accusing stares and yet more loneliness and depression.
Harry opened his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose. He stared down at the green rolling lawns below him and the tiny specks of people bundled up and romping near the lake during the short Indian summer. It felt weird seeing happiness when the world felt like it was going to shite. But at least seeing it provided proof that it didn't revolve around him. Apparently anger made him rather self-absorbed. He could make excuses, and they might even be good ones, but at that moment he was incredibly aware that he needed to get his emotions under control and stop raging at things he couldn't change.
He didn't want to though. He wanted to rage and whine and act like any other teenager on the planet. He was only fifteen for crying out loud! But that was only another excuse. His childhood had died that night in the graveyard, right along with Cedric. There was no more time to waste. He had to do something. Anything. But what was there?
Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by a chill breeze blowing passed him, signifying the arrival of a ghost. He turned, half interested, half annoyed, and spotted an apparition he had never seen before. It was an oddly shifting, thing with round white eyes and a jagged smile. It appeared almost two dimensional as it glided through the halls, searching. It body was full of buzzing insane movements - black swirls. Behind the thing there walked a small white haired child with one sleeve empty, barely casting a shadow.
The child had the same round, white eyes surrounded by darkness, but looked lost. It was a strangely sad sight. Harry watched the kid cry out silently, over and over again, blind to the world as he brought cold and sadness to it.
Harry was drawn to the ghosts (what else could they possibly be? Surely nothing dangerous would be in the school without professor Dumbledore knowing, right?) and soon found himself following them down the halls and past strangely frozen and silent paintings. Dimly, as if from an entirely different world, he could hear the haunting melody of piano music. Music had never moved him to tears before, but this half heard tune was nearly enough to set him choking on the grief in it.
The taller ghost with jagged smile passed through a wall abruptly, and the small child stopped before it, for the first time aware of the world around him. He looked back at Harry with an expectant look on his simple face before pacing three times before the place the other ghost had vanished. A door suddenly appeared, melting into reality, shifting stones. And the small boy nodded before slipping through it.
Harry jolted in surprise and darted forward, expecting the door to vanish right along with the ghost's. Instead he found himself in a gigantic, pale room that was so blindingly white it took several minutes for his eyes to adjust. The windows in the room were tall and looked out on a white city like what one might expect find near the sea, and inside there was a mirror (inside of which the ghost with the jagged smile stood) a couch, and a grand piano, also white.
Sitting at the piano there was an old man covered in bandages, playing the tune from earlier, almost absently. One of his hands was black and scaly with claw like fingers and a glowing green crucifix on its back.
Harry stood frozen, watching the old man play and feeling as if he was interrupting something sacred then entire time. He finally managed to move back towards the door, but accidently collided with it instead of slipping quietly through like he'd intended. The old man turned to reveal a surprisingly young, scarred face (he's not an old man at all!) and then Harry was back outside the room and the door was fading swiftly from view.
Harry stayed where he'd fallen for several long minutes, clutching at his heart before realizing exactly where he stood.
Was that the Room of Requirement?
Harry knew what he needed to do, quite suddenly, but he felt very sure he wouldn't be following any more ghosts.
Hermione frowned. Having finally spotted the Ghost her best friend had been going on about. She wasn't remotely sure there was a good idea. It had looked… well, like a nightmare. And for some reason made her think of dementors.
"Harry…" she tried very hard not to sound like the bossy know it all she'd left behind in first year, and wasn't entirely sure she succeeded. "I really don't think this is a good idea. I mean…"
The black haired boy frowned right back at her, eyes starting to sharpen with that all too familiar anger that he'd seemed to run on since the first moment she saw him. Then he turned back to the door that the music was coming from. Hermione had to admit, the music was… attractive. It made her feel like a metal slug just barely on the tipping point of being forced to connect with a magnet. She didn't like how it resonated…
"I agree – "
Both Harry and Hermione stared at Ron. His ears immediately went red, and his expression surly. "What? It didn't look like any ghost I've ever seen, and unlike you lot, I grew up in the wizarding world!"
Hermione's hands came up in a placating gesture. "No, no, it's fine Ron, really…"
"Well I'm going," he interrupted.
"We should at least tell someone, Harry!" Hermione all but shouted in exasperation. Her flyaway hair even appeared to bush out a little more, like one of your standard animal defenses.
"Hermione, the professors can't even get rid of Binns, I doubt they could get rid of a more powerful or self-aware ghost if they wanted too."
She looked to Ron irritably, as if to say 'don't encourage him!'
"Right, and Dumbledore seems to think I'm evil or crazy like all the rest of him, and Umbridge is just going to make this whole situation worse. And we won't have a room to practice in. So you both can stay here, but I'm going."
Before she could get a single word in edgewise, Harry had broken free of their little group, and pushed the door open, nearly vanishing into the light.
Several very unladylike words popped into her head, and nearly came out her mouth. Ron said one of them for her instead, and the two chased after him.
Once inside, Hermione came to an abrupt stop – enough so that Ron nearly ran into her. He was still growing and mostly limbs so his coordination was more than slightly off. The room was nothing like what she'd expected. She felt… oddly relaxed and sleepy just being inside. She noted that Harry had come to a stop at one of the high narrow windows, and was peering out with a confused expression.
Curious as always, Hermione went to see what he was looking at, then felt her eyebrows raise practically into her hair.
"There's a whole city out there!"
"What?" Ron crowded in behind her, unaware of the door closing and vanishing behind them.
"Yeah… but look everything just – ends after a while."
"Well the Room has to have some limitations," Hermione mused. "I wonder if all those buildings out there even really exist? I mean, they could be an illusion… or maybe they don't exist until we're close to them?"
Ron was looking at her with something like horrified fascination, while Harry just seemed fascinated.
"Why don't we test it out?"
Hermione gave Harry a look, aware of what he was doing, and that he knew she knew. It was tempting… after all, what if there was a library? What was this room/city even for? Her insatiable desire to learn seemed intent on crushing what there was of her good sense.
"Well… so long as we're careful," she temporized.
Harry grinned, and Ron laughed. It could be incredibly exciting. Time away from the castle, and Umbridge, searching out adventure. And, she had to admit, it didn't seem likely that they'd have to run or fight for their lives in here.
How wrong she'd prove to be.
The door they hadn't been through opened before any of them could say a word, and an inhuman shriek had them all spinning, wands in hand, spells half formed.
Authors Note
Well, I know this isn't exactly new content, but I keep seeing interest in this story, so I'm editing when I can, and hopefully updating soon. Not much changes until past the first break.