Disclaimer: not even in my dreams

Chapter Eleven: Monster

It was bright outside with a warm breeze. A perfect day for flying, a day so perfect, Harry was willing to believe that the day was actually made for flying. He soared high above the school, feeling the sensation of happiness that one can only get by flying on a broomstick.

However, soon the sky filled with clouds, threatening rain. Thunder sounded, and a razor sharp wind blew Harry out of the sky, and back into the ground in an unfamiliar area.

Looking around, Harry noticed that trees were all around him, leading him to believe he landed in a clearing of some kind of forest. The weather still blazing, Harry struggled to get to his feet, only to topple back around as the result of another strong push from the wind.

From his place on the ground, Harry could make out a figure, and it was amazing that he could hear through the raging storm, but Harry heard the words perfectly.

"Harry? Why'd you do this to me?" The figured cried out, and the rain began to increase. Harry strained his eyes to see through the natural force of wind and rain, but still the figured remained just that, a figure.

"Why did you do this to me?" It repeated, and then repeated the same words again and again. Each time, with a little more emotion, a little more conviction, until finally the figure sounded angry, ready to kill. Harry began to feel frightened as the figure moved closer.

Harry's fears were confirmed when the figure was close enough to become a person. It was Neville Longbottom. He looked exactly the same as he did that same fateful night in the Chamber.

"You betrayed me Harry," said Neville accusingly, pointing a finger like a child. "You tortured me, and then lied about it!"

"Shut up," Harry said harshly, as if someone were around to hear. "I only did it to save you! I had no choice in the matter. He was going to kill you, then everyone else. You should be on your knees thanking me!"

Neville smiled a smile which didn't fit his personality. It was unnatural on his face, and it gave Harry the creeps.

"Now who does that remind us of?" Neville taunted, "Too much time spent with Tom Riddle has rubbed off on you. You're almost jus like him, and soon you will be."

"No," Harry said, "you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong," Neville continued, Harry's anger rising with every passing second Neville spoke. "In the last three months you have learned the Dark Arts well. You know spells no one should have ever invented, and you like it."

"Shut up," said Harry in a low warning voice.

"You're smart enough to know Dumbledore would have protected your family! And if you waited just a little while longer, he would have found us, and Tom would be in hiding right now." Neville paused, "You like the Dark Arts, and something inside you craves it."

"I said shut up!" Harry reached for his wand to attack but it wasn't there.

"You lost it during your fall," said Neville, "like you should have lost your life. You're better off dead to this world now. You're just like Riddle."

Then Neville got out his own wand, and pointed it at Harry, who felt as if he was falling again.

This time Harry landed on the hard wood floor of the boy's dormitory, with the blanket wrapped around his body in a weird way. He was sweating, and was just beginning to realize, it had just been a dream.

Harry rubbed his reddened eyes, and checked the clock. It was eleven. He was late. Normal students didn't have to worry about being late on Saturdays, but Harry had lessons with Riddle every Saturday. He took his time getting ready. After the night, he just had, Riddle could wait whether he liked it or not.

After doing all the things he needed in the slowest pace possible, Harry made his way to the library to meet Riddle in the same slow pace. When he got there, Riddle was sitting at the last table, his head in the books, like every Saturday.

He looked up, and smiled when seeing Harry, who thought this behavior was strange. Shouldn't he be angry right now? Harry had come thirty minutes late, and Riddle wasn't known for patience.

"Hello, Harry," said Riddle, "what are you doing here?"

"It's Saturday," Harry said, coldly. "Why do you think I'm here?"

For a moment, Riddle looked confused. Harry briefly wondered if he had turned more into a psychopath than he already was.

"Oh, that," Riddle said, "I've bee meaning to tell you, I've decided that forcing you to join me wasn't such a great plan." Harry glared at Riddle like he was stupid. It took him three months to figure that out? Riddle continued, "You can do whatever you like."

Riddle focused back on his book, flipping the page. Harry remained where he was, staring at him, perplexed, until Riddle felt the stare, and looked back up at Harry.

"What kind of trick is this?" Harry demanded.

"It's no trick," Riddle assured him, "I already had you. Why would I need to manipulate you any further?"

Harry thought about this, and it made sense, but he wasn't ready to trust Riddle's motives yet.

"What about my family?"

"I will not harm your family," said Riddle, annoyed. "I told you, you're free of this. You should leave before I change my mind."

However, Harry did not leave just yet. For some reason he could not get himself to believe what Riddle was saying was true. Just minutes ago, he was bound to the Dark Arts forever, his whole life planned, but had he really been set free from all that? Did Riddle really hold the power there?

Harry convinced himself that Riddle did, for if he couldn't that meant Harry wasn't really free after all. He finally managed to turn his back on Riddle when he called out his name.

"There is one thing," Riddle started, "that I need assistance with. This is optional for you. I won't make you. You'd be doing me a favor."

Harry stopped and turned back around, intrigued. "What kind of favor?"

"It will be dangerous."

Harry glanced at the door. It was wide open, he could leave if he wanted to, but he found himself desiring to help Riddle this one last time. He had no idea why he was doing, or what he was doing, but he walked back over to Riddle, and sat down.

"What's the mission?"


Author's Note: Well, there you go. And now I will sleep. Oh, and this chapter was inspired by a song named Monster by Skillet. It's an awesome new song. Check it out!