Well, this is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever had. How do I, as Harry Potter, get myself in these situations? It must be some kind of rule. 'The Potter kid MUST be an idiot!' The sun is just beginning to set, and instead of being at Seamus' birthday party, I'm sitting in the entrance room of the old Miller house, writing in this stupid journal. Soon I'll be writing by flashlight, considering I wasn't allowed a wand. Those sadists. They're outside laughing at me, no doubt. The dare said I have to stay here until one minute after midnight, so I'm going to be really bored for the next three and a half hours. Wait… I just heard a noise. I'll be right back.
I stood up, ready to go investigate. I could hear a strange crackling noise, like walking on dried out grass. There also seemed to be an odd whispering coming from the rear of the house. I stepped gingerly across the spongy, rotting wooden floor planks. A strong, cloying scent of lots of flowers invaded my nostrils, and I wrinkled my nose. I took a deep breath through my mouth, tasting the mildew and dust on the air.
I encountered a door at the back of the room, hanging from its top hinge, and gently pushed it open. I gasped. There was a young woman sitting in a rocking chair, picking leaves off of the pile of dried flowers on her lap, and singing softly. She rocked slowly back and forth, and suddenly looked up. Her hair hung in wet, lanky strands around her face, but her face itself was what shocked me. White, empty eyes stared toward me, and a wide, macabre grin invited me to step closer. I instead took a step back, stumbling into the wall.
"Doesn't have to go, does he? No, I'll give him… a daisy! A daisy, I would give him some violets, but they withered all when my father died…" Her voice was gurgling and wet, and she reached out with a rotted hand and offered me a handful of dried sticks. "And there is pansies, that's for thoughts." Horrified, I threw myself backward out of the door, not wanting to turn my back on the woman. Then, just as suddenly as I moved away, she was gone. I stumbled back to the corner in which I had dropped my Muggle supplies, and searched for my plastic lantern. I curled myself into the corner, turning the light up as far as it would go. I didn't move.
Well, that was certainly an adventure. I managed to terrify myself into seeing some sort of vision. No reason to think it was real. After all, I can see into the room, and there isn't even a rocking chair in there, let alone a woman! This place must freak me out more than I was willing to admit. I'm going to positively murder those people who call themselves my friends. But it's almost ten now. Only two more hours to go.
Shoot, my light is getting dim. I hope I brought extra batteries.
I reached once again for my pack and dug through the pockets. I thought I had packed more batteries. The shadows were beginning to creep closer, and I wanted as much protection from the darkness as I could get. My hand came into contact with four cold, hard cylinders. I knew it! I switched out the batteries in the lantern, shuddering in the few moments of darkness. The light came back on twice as bright, and I sighed with relief, sinking back into my 'pillow' fashioned from another pack I had brought. Then, without warning, the lantern went out. I swore, and tried turning the dial back and forth, urging the light to come back on. I reached out, searching for the old batteries and felt something brush across my hands. I squealed like a little girl, and pulled back. It had felt oily and moist, and was oozing slowly over my hand.
The world had gone completely black, and it seemed as though even the stars and moon had gone out. The oily substance moved its way up my arms and legs, a sick sensation filled my stomach. I struggled, trying to wipe the… whatever it was from my limbs, but my movements just caused it to advance faster. I could feel the creeping numbness seeping up my neck and through my hair. I was screaming with all my voice, and as it crawled down my face, I squeezed my eyes shut. Just as the oil began to pour into my mouth, it disappeared completely. I sat up and spat the dirty taste out of my mouth, without even realizing it had gone completely. Cold had invaded my body, and my eyes were still tightly shut. I could see that the lantern had somehow come back on, so I gingerly and reluctantly opened my eyes. Everything looked just as it had before.
I have no idea what just happened. I can only think that I must have fallen asleep and had a nightmare, because it's ten forty-five, and the last time I could see… No, the last time I looked at my watch, it was only five to ten.
No laughing at me when you read this, guys! That was absolutely the worst nightmare I've ever had. Yeah, that's what it was, just a dream. It wasn't real. Can't have been real. Things like that don't exist outside of fairy tales and movies. Do they? Stupid magic. That… greasy shadow. There's nothing in the real world that could completely encase a human being the way that…the way that I dreamed it did. Boy, that was some dream. My hands are still shaking. It was just a dream. I can stick this out. I hear footsteps. Maybe someone heard me, and they're coming to kick me out. It isn't safe in here, after all.
I stayed put and waited for the footsteps to come to me. I wasn't going to say this to my friends, but secretly, I wished that someone would come out and get me. I didn't want to stay the whole time, but I could get through it. I'll just have to keep reminding myself that it was only a dream. I'm not sure quite how to explain the woman yet, but I'm sure it was just a trick of the light. That and the wind… This place could just make me see things that aren't there, that must be it. The footsteps were coming closer. I had my head buried in my arms; I didn't want to look up until I knew who it was.
"Hey, are you alright there?" It was a man's voice, deep and soothing, and he spoke with an America accent. I raised my head to look at him. He was about my age, and utterly gorgeous. Deep brown eyes gazed down at me from behind a fringe of wavy blond hair. I instantly took the strong hand he had offered to help me stand up.
"I… fine, I just… Who are you?" I stammered, still shivering. He removed his jacket, a heavy black winter coat, and placed it gently over my shoulders. I tried to stutter out my thanks, but he shushed me.
"My name is Leareth. Odd, I know. My parents were rather inventive. I was passing by, and I heard you crying out. I thought you might need help." He was staring into my eyes as he spoke, and we both sat down on the floor, never breaking eye contact.
Something wasn't right… Why would an American teenager be wandering around Ireland at almost eleven at night? I struggled to think of a reason… wait, what reason? What was I thinking? What... I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that had overrun my mind. It suddenly struck my how exhausted I was. I leaned into Leareth, intending to nestle into his arms and fall asleep, but he held me up to look at him. I stared uncomprehendingly into his chocolate eyes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, something was screaming to get away from him, that he was bad, but I ignored it. Those strong arms were so comforting… My eyelids were drooping, but Leareth held my head up, forcing me to look at him. Something strange flashed through his eyes, and his face contorted and began to melt. I was startled by the change, but I just wanted to sleep.
"Are you okay, Leareth?" I reached up, attempting to hold his face together with my weighted hands. "Something is wrong with your skin." I muttered sleepily. He spoke in soothing tones.
"It's okay Harry, just let it happen. Nothing is wrong, everything is perfectly normal." At his words the buzzing in the back of my head got louder. "He's LYING, don't listen! Get away! Look at him; you know that isn't right, run from him!" I groaned, struggling to make sense of the words cutting through the fog. "Run! Just don't look at him! You have to listen, get out of here!" I dropped my eyes, cutting off the connection between my eyes and his. The flesh had almost completely melted off his face, revealing a rotted corpse. He spoke to me again, this time in a gravelly, harsh voice.
"What's wrong, Harry? Don't be scared, its okay, I promise." My eyes widened as a single thought fled across my mind. "I never told him my name!" I could taste the decomposed flesh on his breath, and I wrenched myself from his grip just as he lowered the decaying lips to mine. He let out a cruel cackle, and exploded into thin air. I lay still on the floor where I had fallen backwards. Tears leaked down my cheeks, and my breathing was erratic. The scent of decay lingered in the air, and I was choking on it. I glanced at my watch. Almost midnight, close enough. I was through with this place. I shakily gathered my things, setting the lantern on top of the backpack in my arms. I swallowed, moving slowly toward the door. I wanted to be out of there as quickly as possibly, but my legs wouldn't comply. After what seemed like a panic-filled eternity, I made it to the door. But as I reached for the doorknob, it simply wasn't there anymore. Terror filled my body, and I kicked the door. I dropped everything, and began attacking the door with a ferociousness I hadn't realized I possessed. I kicked and punched at the door, but it was sealed tight. I let out a feral howl, scratching my fingernails down the wooden surface, ignoring the intense pain from shards of wood imbedding themselves under my nails and in my hands.
"Open up! Help! Let me out!" I continued to shriek at the unrelenting door. I was struck by an idea. The window! I threw myself brutally at the dirty glass pane, but it wasn't giving. I punched the glass. Blood poured down my knuckles, but I ignored it, screaming nonsense in my anger and fear. The wind whistled through the trees, and the house creaked loudly, as if chastising me for my actions against it. The house itself seemed to create a wind within it. I felt like I was in the middle of a tornado. My hair slapped into my face, and I whipped around to face the center of the house, but my view was blocked. It was huge. Too big to have gotten inside the house through any physical means. The wind suddenly stopped, and everything went silent. I continued to scream, but it's as if my voice was taken from me.
In front of me was a seething gray mass of some unholy union of animal and man and something utterly otherworldly. It had the head of a wolf, only enlarged and sickly out of proportion. Its flesh was alternately slimy skin and matted fur. It had arms like a man, but long and spindly. Its legs bent back like an animal, but its whole body was surrounded but some sort of smoky essence. I would have been reminded of a werewolf, but this creature instilled a reaction in me that even Greyback had never… I picked up a broken plank of wood and hurled it at the creature, but it passed right through what I would call the chest. I heard the wood hit the other side of the house, sounding empty and unthreatening in the silence. I felt sick, but there was nothing I could do. I ran towards the creature, my arms flung out to either side of me. I felt myself hit the smoky wall, and everything went black.
I woke up twelve hours later in the hospital. Bandages covered my arms up to the elbow, and my head felt heavy. I wanted to throw up. Hermione rushed to my side.
"Hermione? What happened?" I whispered groggily.
"We found you on the lawn outside Hogwarts this morning, torn to bits. We've had to Apparate in all kinds of Muggle machinery, you won't heal by magic. What happened to you in the Miller house?" I began shaking at the memory. I heard a loud beeping noise, and a Madam Pomfrey rushed in. She stuck a needle in my arm just as my body began convulsing. My body calmed, and I began to float. I closed my eyes, and slept.