Chapter 2
Why won't my eyes open?
I'm awake but I can't seem to move.
I spend a moment trying to take a mental analysis of my seeming limitations...my arms are there, I can feel them but I just can't move them- it's the same with my fingers, my legs, my toes, my face. I am breathing otherwise I wouldn't have this...this semi-consciousness or whatever it is.
Wait, am I breathing? I can't tell…
…am I dead?
Is this death, maybe I'm not breathing so maybe I am dead?
Oh frik frik frik frik, how did I die?
My body has no reaction and I'm painfully aware of this – I feel panicky but there's acceleration of heartbeat…I can even feel if I'm breathing harder or not.
I don't remember anything before waking up – if I'm actually awake - did I fall down the Hogwarts staircase or something?
Was it accidental or did someone do this to me?
Frik frik frik, what if I have to stay here like this until I remember…
…but what if I never remember?!
It must have been accidental, things like murder don't happen in Hogwarts anymore, not si - something's touching me...why is something touching me?
I think someone's hand is on my forehead...
Maybe this is what happens when you don't get into heaven…
I've never been religious, I never made up my mind on whether or not God exists, I was a horrible bitch in primary school and can be mean when I'm pushed and one time I got really, really drunk at a party and flashed my boobs.
Okay, so that's happened twice. Don't judge me, what it's not like you've never got drunk and done something stupid!
Besides it's not my fault, my best friend suggested it...but what if all those things meant I have to spend eternity in this sort of blank consciousness.
All those things though, they don't make me a bad person. I mean I know I've made some mistakes but isn't that part of being human?
Besides I've done good things too, like... well I'm always there for my friends when they need me and I give to charity when I've got enough money spare to do so and...erm...I once brought a homeless guy a Greggs.
My life has been pretty average, I'm nothing remarkable, nothing about me or what I have done can be called amazing or remembered for years to come and I'm okay with that. I was an average, normal teenage girl who had passing crushes, liked shopping, argued with my parents about boundaries, hanging out with my friends and such. I've not been remarkably selfish and nor have I been remarkably selfless, I've been exactly what you'd exact a teenage girl to be- just with less romantic entanglements than most.
Being a witch is enough for me. Magic is enough for me; it's been my release, my outlet, my escape. The time I spent in Hogwarts has been the best I could ever have imagined. To the school as a whole I've contributed nothing spectacular, my grades were average at best, I often forgot to hand in homework and had my fair share of detentions, but Hogwarts and the magical world in general made me exceptional, it let me escape an average world where I was a considered freak so the feeling of being a normal person in a spectacular world was perfect for me. I think the only thing I really regret is never having fallen in love; it's the one thing I've always looked forward to.
What's going on?
Who/whatever's touching me- it must be a someone because they have hands and fingers- is still doing it, but now they're doing something to my arms...lifting them up I think.
Wait, hold on, if I can feel my body then surely that means I still have one...and I feel something so does that mean I'm alive?
I'm confused; I don't know what's going on, can you still have a body when you're dead or am I still alive? I really need to stop asking myself questions, it's not like I'm getting a response or anything.
"Her heart rate's accelerated" A voice near my head said, frightening the crap out of me.
What complete cliché timing.
Sooo, I have a heart rate, does that mean I'm alive? Sod it, I'm just going to assume I'm alive for now, debating with myself is getting boring.
The hands then move to one of my legs, lifting it up causing every nerve in my body to feel as though it's being stabbed.
This time I feel each of my body's responses, my back arches as the pain coursing through the entirety of my body, my fists clutching at the bed clothes and my legs straighten, I can't wrap my mind around the pain, I can feel every part of my body the pain reaches…
I can't think around it- it's the focal point of my body and mind.
I don't pass right out this time, I can feel unconsciousness creep up on me bit by bit but it doesn't numb my senses, it's the opposite, the less conscious I become the higher the pain level becomes- or the more aware of it I become- it's impossible to know which.
It's understandable how people lose their sanity to pain such as this; it eats away at you like some sort of parasite, stripping you of your senses, reducing you to nothing but a bundle of nerves seeking release in any way possible.
As quickly as the pain had come, it stops...no warning, no gradual fading away, it just completely stops leaving nothing but an unnatural numbness that seeps into my mind and lures my already retreating semi-consciousness into a void of nothing-no thinking, no feeling. Just...nothing.
I vaguely become aware of someone screaming and a second later realise that it's me; I'm the one screaming...my body's reactions haven't yet caught up with the abrupt end of its agony. My screaming cuts off when a hand grabs my jaw firmly and a vile tasting liquid is poured down my throat. Stupid motherfuc- I don't get to finish that thought as I black out again.
...
...
A bright light shines through my lids rousing me, this time I can open my eyes. After the initial few moments my eyes adjust enough to see that I'm lay in a darkened room by myself. White. That's what I'm surrounded by- white ceiling, white walls, white bed sheets.
It not the sterile, white hospital-like room that had awoken me though- at least I think it wasn't...
Was it a part of a dream that I don't remember or was it something else-someone else in here with me?
I listen to see if I can hear the sound of footsteps or someone breathing...
Nothing.
No footsteps, no breathing, no other patients, no nurses, just complete and utter silence.
I don't know where I am but the total silence is deafening and eerie to my eardrums.
Alarm bells go off in my head telling me that I have to get out of my bed and out of this room as soon as possible.
I move my arm, testing my limbs to see if they were in cooperation with my mental facilities and to my relief it doesn't let me down.
I struggle to find balance on my two feet and have to lean on the wall t keep from falling, focusing on the prospect of being out of this room I take a few shaky steps towards the door.
It takes a longer than I like and a couple of stumbles before I reach the door. The longer I'm in the room, the stronger the pull to get out of the room becomes. Putting my hand on the door handle, I twist it half expecting it to be locked but to my relief it opens easily and silently, I shuffle forward, still leaning against the wall until I reach the doorway and slowly poke my head around, preparing myself to quickly pull it back in case of any curses, but no, it's empty here too.
The room I'm in is in the middle of a long, white corridor, the roof is low down and the corridor stretches on further than I can see, it makes me feel as though I'm in the creepier version Alice in Wonderland. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, standing on end and I feel cold, I don't know whether or not the temperature's dropped just now or that I'm only just becoming aware of the frigidness of the air but I don't think about it for long as I get an overpowering feeling that I'm being watched and that I have to move now. My breath catches, moving my head back I take a deep breath and brace myself, I put my weight entirely on my shaky legs and clumsily put one leg out of the door half expecting a severing curse to come hurtling right at it and when it doesn't I follow with my other and look either way. Before I even think about which way to go, the urge I had telling me to get out of that room returns, but this time it tells me to go left. I don't know whether to carry on listening to this urge, I can't tell if it's my instincts telling me what to do or something more sinister...is this how the imperious curse works? Testing, I turn to the right and take a few steps. Nothing happens, the urge to go left doesn't intensify, but it doesn't fade either like it does when I do what it wants. I take another step right, just to see and again, nothing.
Maybe, I'm just being overly paranoid, you do hear of people following their instincts and it saving their lives so maybe that's what this is. Turning back around I walk to the l
eft which is visibly indistinguishable from the right, a little voice in my head notes pointlessly. Anywhere else my footsteps would be quiet, but here in the eerie silence each slight pad of my bare feet echo off the walls of the empty corridor.
A shiver passes through my body, the feeling that I'm being watched hasn't faded away as I keep walking, I turn my head around but there's no one behind me, there are no air vents or windows or keyholes in any doors-or even any other doors for that matter- that someone could be peeping through.
A door slams making me jump in fright and my heart triple it's already too fast pace, whirling around I see the door to the room I was in, the one that I'd left wide open now shut. There's no excuse for it, there were no windows in there and there's none here for a gust of wind to blow through and cause it to shut.
I realise two things, one following straight after the other: first of all, that I don't have my wand, it wasn't in my room and it's not in my pocket like I'd assumed because the hospital gown I realise I'm dressed in has no pockets and no hidey places to put it, and second, just how vulnerable I am; I'm a sitting duck to anyone or anything that comes my way. So basically, I'm screwed. There's nothing I can do but keep walking forwards and pray for freedom, so that's what I do-quickly and fervently.
It's funny how quick people are to turn to God when in a crisis, I note.
It's also funny the things you'll think of - you'd think the only thing I'd be focused on is escape, but there seems to be a part of my brain that is in denial over the severity of this situation and is determined to make light of it. It's not helping, and if it's not helping me then it's not needed right now and needs to shut up. Blocking each and all thoughts of anything but getting out of here, I focus on moving forward and continue walking.
And walking.
And walking.
This corridor doesn't seem to have an end, there have been a few bends, left and right turns with what I think are my instincts telling me which way to go and I've passed a fair few doors that I've had no urges to go through, but no end. I've lost track of how long I've been walking, whether it's been around 10 minutes or an hour I couldn't say, but my legs are in agony.
I keep getting shooting pains through my chest and right arm and have gotten a few dizzy spells that made me have to stop until it had passed enough to keep walking. Whatever happened to me must have been bad, my injuries have been patched up and they still hurt like a bitch.
I'm so thirsty, my throat feels parched and dry.
No sooner do I notice my thirst than I turn round a bend in the corridor and there, on the left is a water dispenser and a single plastic cup. This is not a coincidence, maybe this place works like the Room of Requirement is said to.
Feeling excitement bubble up in my chest, I think of an exit in my head...nothing happens. Maybe I need to keep walking for it to appear, so that's what I do, but nope, nada. No doors, no big sign leading me to the exit, nothing.
Feeling bitter, I consider ignoring the water dispenser but I'm dehydrated and I don't think passing out here would be all that much of a good idea. With a sigh I turn around and go to the blasted thing, after several cups of hastily drank water, I carry on walking yet again.
Stop. I'd been walking for another indefinite amount of time when this instinct surges through me with shocking strength so abruptly my legs catch up before my brain and the rest of my body do, leaving me in a slightly confused and very painful heap on the floor.
My legs give out twice before I manage to get back to my feet, but when I do I don't know what to do next. Go through the door.
I don't see a door, what doo-oh.
On my right is a door that I'm pretty sure wasn't there a minute ago. The door itself is perfectly normal, an oak door that opens into the room it leads to, with an average sized gold door handle.
Something inside is practically screaming at me to go through it, so that's what I do.
Opening the door I'm faced with an empty closet sized room-again, white- that has a door identical to the one I just went through on the left hand side, go through this door as well.
This one's not as easy to open, I tug on the handle to no avail. The urge to go through the door gets stronger and without thinking I slam my body and all of my weight behind it into the door which swings open.
Lying on the floor, panting with pain throbbing through me I come to my senses, I don't know what came over me to body slam the door. I just knew I had to get through it, but why? I have to lean on the wall again to get back up, an ache in my left shoulder tells me that I've injured it further, I can move it, so maybe it's just dislocated or something.
Ignoring the new addition to my injuries, I take stock of where I am- this room is slightly bigger than the previous one but again, is completely void of anything. The brightness of everything being completely white is giving me a migraine. The door I've just come through slams shut beside me, this time I saw that there was no one there on the other side closing it, whoever it is who's doing this must be doing so with magic.
Right next to that door, the one I've just come through is another, go through it, it's the last one. I've done everything my instincts have told me to up until this point but for some reason the prospect of going through this door scares the crap out of me. How on earth could I possibly know that this is the last door I'll have to go through? This door is identical to the rest - perfectly unassuming by all standards so I can't explain why I don't want to go though it into the next room.
Go. Go through it now. You have to. I don't have to, I can stay right here and I will stay right here. Go through it. Now. Go through it or I will kill you. What?!
Go through that next door or die, it's up to you. I think it's safe to say that whatever's telling me to go through the door is not my instincts.
I don't know what to do, I should never have even gotten out of the bed, I co- I'll go back!
As soon as I put my hand on the other door handle it doesn't move at all, instead it burns red hot and I get thrown back against the wall.
What the fuck was that?!
What's going on?
Winded, but not injured I manage to get back up. I stand for a moment contemplating the situation, I don't want to go through that door, but it seems like the only other alternative is to stay in this room-before I can come to any sort of conclusion or decision I notice a bright orange flickering in my peripheral vision.
The entire wall on the opposite side of the doors is on fire.
It's as though the flames were waiting for me to notice them before they start to advance on me because seconds after I'd noticed them they were creeping towards me, devouring the floor, the walls and the ceiling around me. This wasn't natural, fire's supposed to be wild but this, this is controlled...it's forcing me to the door and locking in around me leaving with two options: burn to death, or go through the stupid fucking door.
The fire inches closer and closer to me by the second, I can feel the scorching heat of the flames though the smoke that's engulfing me and choking me. I can't move. I'm petrified, the room's too hot and the fire's too close to me...I should have gone through the door, anything's better than being charred, my breathing accelerates until I start sobbing hysterically which turns into hysterical chocking when the smoke and ashes go down my airways. I want to go through the door but I can't bring myself to turn away from the inferno, I'm scared that if I look away, when I look back they'll be right in front of me.
Black dots impair my vision and I know that I have to get a grip of myself or I will die. I don't know what's waiting for me behind that door but even if it's something terrible and I die then at least I'll know I tried. Taking one last look at the fire, it was just feet away from me at this point, I was burning just from the proximity- I steel myself and turn around, using my hands to feel around the wall trying to figure out where the door is.
The room spins around me, the combination of the smoke, the heat and my previously injured head is too much, I feel so dizzy.
I don't want to die, I can feel the fire closing in on me from behind. It's not even on me yet and it's already scalding my skin.
My hand brushes something hard, reaching back for it I grab a hold, not caring about the searing heat of it and push it down...it opens, I've found the door!
Not waiting a fraction of a second, I hurl my ass through that door, tripping on something on my way.
Lying face down, the now familiar sound of a door slamming shut sounds yet again...and I don't think I've ever appreciated it more. The more space between me and that fire, the better.
It feels like an eternity before I stop coughing and retching, I'm pretty sure I've thrown up on myself but I really don't care because I'm alive. I'd take vomit covered over charred to ashes any day!
The's a putrid smell in the air that I put down to the fire.
It's only when I go to open my eyes I realise that they're already open and the room I'm in is completely pitch black. I can't hear the fire either anymore...am I still in the room that the door led to? I must be, where else could I be?! Someone must be playing a game of some sort...this momentarily annoys me more than it frightens me, does this sick twat think we're in Saw?
I don't have any compulsions at the present moment, only a hacking cough that makes me sound like a 90-something year old chain smoker.
The smell is so foul it makes my dry and itchy eyes water. I still feel nauseous but I'm alive, I tell myself yet again and I'll put up with any smell and queasiness for that simple reason.
Get up.
I spoke too soon. Fear overrides my irritation and I stumblingly get to my aching feet, tripping over once because of something my legs are entangled with.
As soon as I'm up right, the lights turn back on dimly, it takes a long while for my eyes to get enough moisture in them and adjust from seeing nothing but shapeless blurs with black spots overriding them to being able to make out the lines on the linoleum flooring.
Look. A new compulsion orders me. Fearing the repercussions that'd come if I don't, I scan the room and am confronted with the most vile sight.
I try to take a few deep breaths but I can't keep it back, my stomach contracts and retches continuously, tears pour down my face as I fall to my knees. It's not the fire that's giving off the putrid odour, it's dead bodies.
There's so many of them. Dozens, heartlessly piled in several heaps throughout the room as though they're worth nothing more than cattle.
Look at them.
"I can't!" I yell hoarsely, "p-please, I c-c-ca-can't!"
Look at them.
Sobbing hard I can't help it, the urge overpowers my revulsion and I can't stop my head from turning and my eyes moving to the first heap of bodies in the furthest corner.
Get closer, look at their faces.
"Oh God, oh God, I-I don't want t-to. P-p-plea"
Do it, you have to do it. Now, or else.
Getting up off my knees I walk over to the corner, the already poignant stink becomes even stronger, knowing that the smell in my nostril is the stench of rotting flesh makes me stomach contract and I throw up again.
Getting a hold of myself, I walk to the point where I'm the furthest away but can still see the poor people's faces.
...
...
No.
No.
It's wrong.
It's fake, it has to be.
Seeing the thing you're most frightened of would be one thing, but this is so beyond that…it's not something you would even be able to bring yourself to think of to be afraid of it.
I want to move away but I can't, my legs move me close to the heap so that I can see their faces more clearly. My thoughts are frozen but my mind registers each and every face in the pile.
And the next one.
And the next one.
Because I know them. I know each and every face of the people heaped on top of each other's dead bodies as though they're nothing of significance. I note each of their identities as I pass them and by the end I realise they have everyone. Everyone I love, everyone I care about or once cared about is dead.
My friends.
My parents.
My brothers.
My best friend.
My grandparents.
My neighbours.
My aunts and uncles.
My classmates.
My cousins.
Children who played on my street.
People who I'd played on my street with when I was a child.
My second and third cousins.
People I'm related to without knowing how.
Even my old primary school teachers.
All of them. Dead. The one thing they had in common –other than being dead-? Me.
This is your fault.
How can it not be when I'm the only one left?
So...why are my tears fading and emotions receding?
Standing still, I try to find some emotion- anger, tears, grief, the feeling of guilt instead of a numb acceptance of it...anything, but it's futile.
I feel nothing.
There's one pile left which is separate from the others, walking over I examine them closely, not even registering the smell anymore.
There's a red haired girl here, she looks rather like...but what's Ginny Weasley got to do with me? She was two years ahead of me.
She looks a bit different, her hair colour seems a bit too bright too but maybe that's just because she's dead and the lack of blood running in her veins brings out the redness a bit more. The male underneath her, he had black/brown hair...they got Harry Potter too.
I wonder vaguely where his glasses are, he looks different without them-his eyes especially look duller...or is that too just because he's dead? There are three guys here I don't know, a plump one, one that looks as though he put up a fight before he died and one who's death and equally banged up face does absolutely nothing to take away his good looks. He looks like the protagonist of a tragic war story, I note.
A part of my mind register that my reaction isn't normal. My entire family is dead, my friends are dead, people I only know now as acquaintances are dead, people I've looked up to are dead and a few strangers I've never met are dead.
I should feel something. Anything.
Do I want to though? I just went through it, everyone I give a shit about is dead, and why would I want to face the sort of grief that comes alongside that? Maybe it would be better if I stayed like this, it's more practical.
Unless I die too of course. I can't bring myself to even care about what will happen to me, if I live, fine and if I die, that's fine too... life would be boring without everyone in it anyway.
Not knowing what to do with myself next I walk back over to the wall. I sit down, leaning my back and scraping it against the white bricks as I go down. I wonder what I tripped over before.
Casting my eyes over in the direction of the door I notice yet another body.
All I can see from here is that the body belongs to an unfortunate dark haired male. I think for a moment that it may be Tom but I remember seeing him next to Jamie in the second pile of people.
With a morbid sense of curiosity I turn his body around and study his face, after several seconds spent casting my mind back I come to the conclusion that I don't know this boy.
Well not boy, but I can't say man either...I'd say he was somewhere in between, maybe around my age give or take a few years so for the sake of the sentence let's say guy. I don't know this guy either.
He had a fairly good looking face and dark brown/black hair.
Looking into his open, blank eyes I note that his eyes were somewhere between blue and green, I couldn't say they were one more than the other, his eye colour was smack bang in the middle of the two. Brushing his hair out of eyes I realise that I'd probably have had a crush on him if I was ever to knew him. I feel a pang somewhere deep down for this bo-guy, I don't know why he's separate from the rest but I don't think he should be alone, even if it is in death so I sit next to him, with his body on my right hand side and my back against the wall.
A lock of hair has fallen into his eyes and I can't help but brush it away.
I think for a while about what his name could be, but none of the normal boys names suits him, John, Ben, Tom, Daniel, Aaron, Dylan, Dominic, James, Niall, Matthew, Liam, Brian...none of them suited him. I think he'd have a name that's not unique but isn't common either, something sort of polished. I don't know what makes me think that, I'm probably just trying to keep my mind occupied.
Oh well, how about Richard? Hmm, Rich...mm no. It doesn't sound completely right. My eyes wonder subconsciously while I think and focus on the piles. It seems as though all their eyes are focused on me in a glare of accusation, it makes me feel nervous.
Looking back at the guy I notice that his eyes are focused on me too in the same expression. I look away from him but it doesn't help, I know their eyes are still me and not just any eyes, among those staring at me with blank, accusing dead eyes are my mother and father, my best friend who I'd considered better than a sister, my confidants.
I feel something like bile rise in my throat and I push it back, refusing to be weak, but it won't be denied. Leaning over, I prepare myself to throw up yet again but it's not vomit that comes out, it's a cry that's followed closely by a loud, broken wail.
I wonder numbly if that noise is coming from me and it's only the gaps in between the hysterical breakdown where I have to heave to catch some oxygen that I realise it is me the noise is coming from.
The part of my brain that's aware of what's going on and isn't numbed is getting stronger and stronger, everyone I love is dead and I'm suddenly very much aware of that.
Dead because of me. My eyes close and my breath catches, I don't want it to come back. Let it stop. Let my life stop. Let this pain stop. I can't handle a lifetime of this pain and guilt,
I can't handle the knowledge that I'm alone and for whatever reason it's entirely my fault.
I feel someone's hands on my shoulders shaking me.
"Please kill me" I think "Let me die with them, please let me die. I don't want to live. Please, please, please."
They're shouting something at me, I think there may be more than one voice. They're hands move from my shoulders to my face, slapping my cheeks sharply, over and over again.
Ignoring them, I look at the poor guy next to me's face,
"I-I'm s-so sor-ry." I tell him, "I d-d-did-'nt mean fo-for you t-t-o d-d-ie, any o-o-f yo-u. It-it's m-my fault, I'm s-so so s-or-ry. I don't de-deser-ve to l-li-ve."
My parents are dead. My parents are dead. They're dead.What am I supposed to do without them?
Hands grip me by the arms and shake me roughly. I don't want to see them, I clench my eyes closed and keep them that way, I don't want the last thing I see to be the face of the bastard that killed my parents and this guy and everyone I loved.
I want to die.
I want them to kill me because what's the use of living when everyone I love is dead? There isn't one but being confronted with the faces of people responsible sends a white hot feeling rushing through my body.
I don't realise what I'm doing until after I've finished screaming, I don't notice that my arms are flying, attacking my assailant with my fists.
It's not enough.
They deserve more...worse.
The arms let go of me and a bright white light illuminates the room and forces me to open my eyes. When I do, I see I'm not in that room anymore...blinking in shock I realise that I'm back in the white room I started off in, but I'm not alone. I'm surrounded by what look like Healers watching me warily while they come towards me with potions. I hit out at the one nearest to me,
"You bastards!" I hiss as I attack and fight against the hands trying to restrain me.
"Hold her down." One of them mutters.
"I hope you're held down while I fucking kill you, you filthy bitch!"
I'm filled with the urge to strangle every ounce of life out of her scrawny little neck and my hands reach out to do exactly that but are interceded by a man who wraps his arms around me, trapping my arms beside me.
"Do it now." He barks at someone.
One of his lapdogs leaps forward at his orders with a needle in his hand and comes towards my neck; I snap my teeth at him when he gets near me causing him to stumble back.
Apparently they were done playing nice, one of the other lapdogs, grabbed me and pushed me face down on the bed, pulling my arms behind my back. As much as I struggled I couldn't free them so I lashed out with my legs as well while I thrashed, trying to get him off me. Like fuck was I going without giving them hell.
"Hold her damn legs down for God's sake!" He sounded pissed off I thought with grim satisfaction. Good.
"Now, inject her." The man in charge ordered.
"Kill me." I ground out. Everyone ignored me which pissed me off further, I thrash even more causing my dislocated shoulder to damage itself even more but ignoring the pain I don't stop.
"Just fucking kill me."
I feel the needle against my neck just as the door opened, my eyes swivel in that direction and stood there are three people.
I watch as the old man with a long beard ordered everyone to stop and let go of me, but by that point the needle's already injected whatever it held into my system and the couple he was with, both almost elderly started yelling at the men who had been holding me down.
I barely noticed anything beyond the old man with the long beard. I don't notice the needle still penetrating my skin and I don't notice the almost elderly couple shouting about morals and procedures and I don't notice the haziness that is swiftly overpowering my consciousness. What I notice is my headmaster. Not my current one, but the one who's death caused my current one to take his place. Albus Dumbledore, the man who was hit by the killing curse and thrown off of the astronomy tower in my 3rd year is alive.
"Well shit." I think I mumble as my consciousness fades away into a relieving nothingness.