"Who are you?"
"You're talking to yourself."
oioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioi
"I-I just..." A pause. "I just wanted to help."
Eyes shift. Brows narrow. Tear ducts open.
A breath. Another. And then nothing.
Eyes close. A face relaxes. A body sinks back.
90 DAYS EARLIER
"You're being an idiot. Stop." Two people shuffle past others in their hurry through the quaint village.
"All I said was 'You didn't have to do that!'" The other retorted angrily.
"Fine. And I said you're being an idiot."
"I'm telling you not to do something dangerous and you call me an idiot?"
The leader of the duo stops.
"Everything in life won't be checked for safety or have maintenance done on it every few years."
"I didn't say that!"
"Then what did you say?"
"I said, don't do something dangerous. And what did you do? Something dangerous. Something dangerous that led us to this conversation, which, I remind you, we wouldn't be having."
The follower raises a finger to their chin in fake bemusement.
"Why do you think we're talking about it? Oh wait, right, because a certain someone did it."
"Whatever." They started walking again through the crowded streets. "Get your money's worth while you can. It's not like you get it any other time."
"Wow, petty."
They stopped at a large concession stand. The leader got the attention of the attending wizard and waved him over.
"Excuse me, we'll have one of your Rampaging Rovers please."
"Right away, sir!" The wizard nodded energetically and reached below the counter to grab one.
"That'll be 15 Galleons."
Coins changed hands, and soon a small black and bumpy object was in the pocket of the follower.
"Have a good one."
"Hey, you too!"
They continued down the road.
Rampaging Rovers were seen as a toy; it was much more than that. Like any other thing that was magical, it had secrets. One such secret aided its' user. Aurors knew about them. They were trained to avoid high sounding shrieks like nothing else. They knew, if you heard it, to get out. They knew what followed.
"What are you going to do this time?"
xxx
"Your cat-nap digs into my funding, Stalker."
He gasped and rolled over.
"Ah, you're awake. Good. We can continue as planned, yes?"
"Doing this is hard, Professor. Everything takes a toll."
"What isn't hard? None of us are ever the first to invent or discover anything. What is hard to us isn't hard at all. It's been accomplished before. Besides, it's a glorified nature trail, not the study of atoms. Get up, Stalker."
"Why? What purpose does it serve? So I can find other people and bring them too? So I can repeat the process? So I can go home to desperation?"
"Your problems are not your own. They were issues before they became problems. Your lack of action was the catalyst. Everything has a beginning and an end. Your Porcupine, your Zone, this trip. Nothing is exempt. And nothing is done about this endless cycle. Nothing can be done. And everyone knows this; but they keep on with their meager lives, such as you."
"There is always an outlier."
"Always? That isn't true."
"It is for some."
"We can talk on the way back. For now, I'd like to make more progress. Rambling might be progress for you, but I regret to say it isn't for me."
And they were off. As he led Professor through a wooded area, he failed to notice a thick branch where he was about to step. And he fell. And he fell. Into nothing.
The colors faded. Professor faded. The area faded. The trees faded. The sky faded. Everything to nothing, in a second.
And that was how he woke.
"Bad dream?"
He looked up to see his French friend sitting across from him at a table. Their papers were strewn over it.
"During your little nap, I managed to learn a few things. It would have been easier with someone reading other sections, zough."
"Sorry."
"It's nothing. We all get tired sometimes. Even the great Harry Potter." She grinned.
"Talk to Krum recently?"
Fleur frowned. "No. Not since the last Task. Why?"
"We just need to talk. Boy stuff, you wouldn't understand."
She crossed her arms.
"Hmm, I see. You know, we were taught quite a lot about boy stuff back in France."
Harry shrank in his chair.
"I'll tell you later."
"Fine. But not too long, or I'll give you a lesson zhe French way!" The girl smiled sweetly.
He grimaced.
"Help me with zese notes, please, Harry."
And he did.
She hugged him more often, now. And now, he was beginning to return her hugs more often.
It gave him a lot to think about.
She kept her hair curled and appeared much more brightly around him. He felt the same way with her. When she was around, he was happy. If just a smidgeon more than before, it made a difference. When she was upset over something, he cheered her up and got her mind off of it. And vice versa. They became best friends.
That was the irony of it. Two contestants, pitted against each other, who became thick as thieves.
Just then, a faint voice interrupted his musing.
"Deadly anomalies, dangerous mutants, anarchists and bandits! None of them can stop Duty from its triumphant march towards saving the planet!"
Harry lost the smile he didn't know he had. That reminded him. But of what?
'The Task is coming up, Harry.'
He scoffed.
'I know, Strelok. I'm in the Tournament, after all.'
'One wouldn't think that, with the way you've been.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'Nothing. I'm just reminding you, Harry.'
'I'm prepared, Strelok. You know we have a plan.'
'Plans exist to go wrong. Be unpredictable.'
'Hence the plan.'
Their banter went on. As it did, Harry retreived an empty can and a box of matches from his "room" in the cave.
The goblins, in their digging, dug into deposits of oil and gas. The teacher and student factored that in, and adjusted accordingly.
By the time the Task came, Harry would be hot.
And not just hot. On fire.
xxx
It was the day of the Task. The Champions all got time to ready themselves. Harry took his time to make sure his trap was rigged above the stage. He had came hours before everything was finished, putting it in the rafters. Nobody would have seen or sensed it. They would have looked for magic.
He had a string hooked to a pulley in a corner. All he had to do was trip and fall on it, and have his oppponent near the center. Not too hard. If he was seen as defenseless, they would hopefully approach and finish the duel.
First up was Delacour and Diggory.
The referee came up to the stand and raised his wand.
"Duelers, ready?"
His head flicked from Diggory to Delacour. They both nodded, Diggory with some hesitation.
His wand produced a light like a flare, and he brought it down to begin the match.
Their fight didn't last long.
Whatever spells were taught at Beauxbatons were obviously superior to the Hogwarts curriculum.
Cedric sent a Banishing Curse her way, and she quickly reflected it and caught him in a "Locomotor-Mortis!"
And then she Summoned his wand before he could retaliate, and that was that.
The Hogwarts crowd was devastated. The fight was over in seconds. Everyone was hoping for Cedric, apart from Slytherins.
Next up: Krum and Potter.
The two students went to their respective ends of the dueling platform and waited for the signal.
'Really? Juicing yourself?'
'Hey, you want to do this sober, be my guest.'
He had the string taped to his arm, ready to be pulled at a moment's notice.
He had the lighter in the pocket, ready to be used in a moment's notice.
And he had flesh, ready to be scorched at a moment's notice.
The mixing was too easy. Take some oil, some diesel, and a cheap Styrofoam tray or plate. Break it up, mix it in, dump out the excess.
The more oil, the longer the burn. This was the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The word 'Lethal' didn't exist.
The same referee returned to the middle and repeated his actions. Harry and Krum nodded to him. He flicked his wand, and the fight began.
The second it did, Harry brought his arm down.
Thwick!
Splash!
Where the referee stood earlier was now a puddle of liquid.
Harry fell to his knees and pleaded.
"Please, that was it! That was all I had! I don't have a chance! Let me surrender, I'm no threat, Vik! You know me!"
His friend lowered his wand and inched over to him.
"Harry, you know what they want. One of us needs to be out of the game. Surrender isn't an option. I hope you can forgive me one day."
"That makes two of us."
The first puddle was a decoy. A few seconds after it, a delayed second outburst would happen. Harry called it safety; Strelok called it overkill.
It came down and soaked them both.
The putrid smell wafted down to the first few rows of spectators.
In the back of her mind, Hermione Granger knew something was off.
Swish!
"Harry? What are you doing?!" The Bulgarian cries out as the flames spread.
"Warming up." He grinned.
Viktor tries to use spells and repelling charms, even a weak "Aguamenti!", but to no avail.
You're not getting rid of napalm with a few spells, especially if you're in it.
Their groans and later screams filled the small stadium. The referee almost rushed in a few times to declare a draw, but was rebuked as neither had stopped moving. In the case of Viktor, he hadn't let go of his wand.
Old napalm burned for 30 seconds.
Can you guess how long oil makes it burn for?
Too long.
Long enough for the both of them to stop screaming.
Long enough for Viktor Krum to relinquish his wand.
Long enough for Harry Potter to stop moving.
Long enough for the both of them to become black.
The referee sprinted in and ended the duel too late.
The two were both taken off of the platform in blinding speed, Krum slightly faster.
Later, Krum was able to be revived.
Harry? Not yet. For some, it's a victory. For others, it's a defeat. For one, it's the end of their world.
One who wasn't told of what happened during the duel, but who heard the screams and smelt the burned skin. For her Veela ears, it was like she was right next to them.
It was like she died with him.
When he was brought in on a stretcher, she ran over to him. He was partially black in places. He was almost unrecognizable.
What broke her heart was that his wasn't beating.
"Harry?"
He showed no sign of having heard her. Or breathing, for that matter.
"Come back to me, Harry. I need you." She sobbed into his chest.
"I love you!"
She was dragged away by the Nurse a few minutes later for some reason.
xxx
"You've brought many people here."
A voice ventured, bringing him out of his stupor.
"Not as many as I would like."
"That's not the point. Why did they come here? What did they want?"
The voice interrogated.
"Happiness, I guess."
"Yes, but what kind of happiness?"
"People don't like to talk about their innermost feelings. And it's neither yours nor mine business."
"In any case, you've been lucky. I haven't seen one happy man in my life."
He opened his eyes and glanced over.
"Me neither. They return from the Room and I lead them back, and we never see each other again. It's not that wishes come true immediately."
"Have you ever wished to use this Room yourself?"
"I'm fine as I am."
The black dog that had been following them approaches him as he lay, slumped in a riverbed. It curls up behind him, and there they lay.
The voice continues.
"Professor, listen. Speaking of this purchased inspiration, let's imagine that I enter this Room and return to our God-forsaken town a genius. A man writes because he's tormented, because he doubts. He needs to constantly prove to himself and the others that he's worth something."
Writer pauses and takes in a shallow breath.
"And if for sure I'm a genius? Why write then? What the hell for? Well, I must say, we exist for..."
"Will you be so kind and leave me alone?" Professor interrupts.
"Let me get a wink, I haven't slept all night. Keep your complexes to yourself."
Writer keeps on, ignoring the other man.
"In any case, all this technology of yours, all those blast furnaces, wheels, and other bullshit are only designed in order to work less and eat more. They are all just crutches. Artificial limbs. And mankind exists to create works of art. Unlike all other human activites, this one is unselfish. Great illusions! Images of the absolute truth. Are you listening to me, Professor?" Writer halts his monologue.
"What unselfishness are you talking about?" Professor responds. "People still die of hunger. Have you fallen from the moon?"
"And they are supposed to be our brainy aristocracy! You are not even capable of thinking in abstractions."
"Are you going to teach me about the meaning of the life? And how to think?"
"It's useless. You might be a professor, but an ignorant one."
"I used to only bring one passenger with m to the Room," Stalker interjects.
"I couldn't for the life of me understand why, but now I think I do."
The water near them was dirty. It was lined with trash and filled with garbage. A scrap of a page hung just underneath the surface. Moss grew around the water. Frogs croaked and leaves shook with the wind. Trees moaned and branches gasped.
An old chandelier acted as a wind chime. Shards of glass fell from the old and broken windows.
"You ask why I never use the Room? So I never become as miserable as either of you."
He laid his head back on the layer of cold moss.
"I don't understand anymore. Whether it is an incapacity to or misinformation, I'm not sure."
"Whatever it is, it eludes me."
"Say someone goes on a journey. He leaves his family and friends behind. He leaves for a long time. He likes where he is. But, if he doesn't go back now, he won't be able to later. If he returns, he'll have the worst pain imaginable. Where he is now isn't stressful or tiring. It's paradise. What does he do?"
"Why should he leave? He's in paradise."
"If he returns, he will have his friends and family to help him with his pain. If he stays, he'll never see them again, which is pain in itself. If he returns, he'll be stressed and tired. That's better than not. No pressure makes a man soft."
"What if he wants to stay in paradise before going back?"
"Nothing says he can't. He just has to leave before he misses the opportunity."
With that, Stalker got up.
xxx
"Why are you so idiotic?"
The oh-so-familiar voice questioned.
He was in an all-white area.
He was, until the colors started to change.
"Oh, so 22 isn't 5? Damn, I thought I had that," He quipped.
"This is an interesting form of torture."
"What makes you zink zis is torture?"
"I'm dead," Harry smiled. "What better way to get at me than to have my brain talk to itself with its only love interest?"
Fleur was inwardly shocked.
"I'm not zhe empty zing you call a brain. I'm Fleur!" She said, mildly affronted.
"You can't prove that," His soft voice answered. "Just let me die. The real world was bad enough. I don't need this, too."
He turned away from her.
"Well, like it or not, I need you!" She ran up and linked her arms around his stomach in a backwards hug.
"Why?"
"Why?" She mimicked amusedly.
"Because you're Harry. My Harry. Zat's all Zat matters. I don't want to live without you. I'm not sure I can." She confessed heatedly.
"If you're real-"
Slap! "Ow!"
"Okay, fine. You're real. How?"
"Magic."
Harry's face grew a mile long.
"When you tell me what you needed Krum for, I'll tell you!" Fleur said enthusiastically.
"I can live with that."
"Urgh! So insufferable. I'm leaving now. And when I do, you do. Understand?
And Harry?"
"Yes?"
"It was nice to hear your voice again."
She didn't wait for a reply.
And then he was alone. The warm glow inside him began to wane.
"Yeah, but..."
Everything became white again.
"How do I get back?"