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"Easter was when Hope in person surprised the whole world by coming forward from the future into the present."
― N.T. Wright
"Wishing you all a very Happy and Blessed Easter that is just as bright and joyful as the spring time air around you. Love you all!"
Harry felt the gold snakes come alive again and draw away from his wrists. He instantly jumped up from the throne and put as much distance between it and himself. He looked around the courtroom but he knew that Lord Voldemort had vanished. Something about his last statement had made Harry uncomfortable. He hurried out of the courtroom and made his way through the winding corridors. He was afraid. He was a little more than afraid. He still doubted if Voldemort was human. He certainly wasn't a ghost. A thousand possibilities ran through Harry's mind and he wondered which one was correct. He realized that he was hopelessly lost and had no idea where he was.
After minutes of walking, he reached a huge hall. Harry stepped in and realized that this must have been the dining hall Lord Voldemort had been talking about. Harry glanced around. It had once been an impressive dining-hall but years of neglect had taken its toll. The table was long and solid wood, surrounded by straight backed wooden chairs. The once crisp golden wallpaper was torn in places. On the walls were gilded mirrors but the frames were dusty and the light that shone off them showed years of flecks of dirt and cobwebs that had never been polished off. The floor at first glance appeared to be mud, but it was made of large terracotta flagstones covered in years of grime. Above the table hung an old wrought iron candelabra with several black-wicked candles in it burnt to stumps.
Harry felt the impulse to clean the castle himself. It would certainly keep him busy and he could most certainly use the distraction. Harry wondered where could get some water and cleaning supplies from. He would most certainly need a lot of water. Harry dismissed the idea. It wasn't possible to clean this castle singlehandedly.
Harry found a clock on the wall but realized that it wasn't working. Harry drew back one of the chairs, leaned back in it and closed his eyes. He wasn't taking his chances. He knew that he would get lost and he had no idea how to get back here if that happened. On top of everything he had no idea what the time was. He decided to wait it out here.
Time flowed like cement. Sitting there with nothing to stare at but a wall with torn gold wallpaper was excruciatingly dull and there was no telling when it would be seven. It was so pointless too. Harry had never been idle. His aunt had always had something for him to do. His day passed cooking, cleaning and performing other mundane everyday tasks. This was different. He began to drift into an unpleasant daydream or was it a paranoid fantasy? It was so hard to tell and he didn't care. It helped to pass the time and he wasn't one for entertaining himself with optimism.
Harry woke up and inhaled sharply. He looked around and his jaw dropped open. The scene was quite unbelievable, shocking really. Harry's mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the images it was being sent by his eyes. He closed his eyes and looked away, then opened them and looked back to see if he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming. He pinched himself and gasped. He was definitely awake and this was real.
The dining-room was exquisite. The walls were covered with a shimmering gold paper and in the middle of the ceiling above the wooden table was a candelabra. Down the centre of the table was a runner with Celtic design woven in gold, silver and green into the fabric itself. He looked closely and realized that small snakes constituted the pattern. The polished silver cutlery was heavy to the hand and shone brightly. At each place stood a tall empty wine glass and there were beautifully folded napkins to match the runner. All that was missing was the food and the guests.
Harry closed his mouth as he got over the shock. How long had he been asleep? Was he still at the same place? Harry rose to his feet and looked around. It was definitely the same room. But how had it been restored so quickly? There was definitely something sinister at work here.
Harry hadn't been terrified before but now…now he was beginning to realize how afraid he actually was. His chest had grown tight, restricting his air supply and labouring his breathing. Harry opened his lips but he was certain that no sound would come out. He wouldn't be able to scream. Harry felt the fear rob him of his senses. He could feel his muscles contract and his eyes widen. Harry thought he saw movement in the corner of his eye. He could feel that heavy gaze on him again. Harry shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Even though the dining room was fully restored and bright with candlelight. Harry felt the shadow of something extremely dark and evil enveloping him.
His head lolled back and stared groggily at the candelabra. He had no idea what was happening to him but at the moment he had no control over himself. The shadow seemed to caress him slowly, softly. Was it Lord Voldemort? Harry tried to speak but no sound came out. He closed his eyes and felt fingers brush against his cheek. The touch was human but Harry's fear didn't subside. The air was thick with the dense, malicious aura and it was suffocating him. He became increasingly aware of the fact that he had stopped breathing altogether and was dying.
Lord Voldemort stood behind the chair. He felt extremely satisfied now that he had gotten the boy to be afraid. Although, earlier, he had been amused to know that the boy hadn't been terrified. But it had bothered him. And he wasn't fond of things that bothered him so he had decided to set it straight and that's exactly what he had done.
He realized that the boy had stopped breathing. He shook his head, a malicious grin crossed his features. The boy wouldn't be very amusing if he was dead. He pulled away his fingers, reigned in his aura and uttered an order in a soft yet stern voice,
"Breathe."
Harry's body complied instantly and he instantly drew in long, shuddering breaths. His lungs trying to get in as much air as they possibly could. He breathed as if no air would ever be enough, as if he were a drowning victim suddenly brought up from the depths. He fell from the chair and landed on the floor with a dull thud. Harry was on his knees, hands on the floor. His head was bowed and he was stabilizing. That smooth, silky voice made him flinch and tremble,
"Are you afraid now, Harry?"
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