(Warning: Sensitive Theme)


Over the Edge


Completely overrun by terror, Harry turned tail, dropping his broomstick in the process and threw himself through the portrait hole. In his haste he tripped over something and slid across the floor on his stomach. The wand tightly gripped in his hand was long forgotten, the thought to defend himself, to fight back didn't even occur to him. A little part of him was disgusted with himself. Could anyone blame him though?

The throbbing in his forehead suddenly spiked again as his head crashed into something causing him to almost blackout. Blinded by the pain Harry tried to feel his way around, trying to push himself off the floor so that he could get away and put as much distance as possible between himself and Voldemort. However, something was definitely out of place. It didn't seem he was in the corridor in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. The floor felt different, and so did the smell in the air. Where am I?

He was in for another rude shock as the fog before his eyes began to clear. He furiously blinked his eyes and shook himself, even pinching himself for good measure. Alas! There was no change… He was back in his dormitory!

The dryness in his throat almost choked him as Harry began to hyperventilate, full blown panic finally taking a hold of him. His mind froze over, unable to cope with the improbability of the situation. A high pitched ringing in his ears shook his insides as his body began to spasm, curling into a fetal position. He was losing it. A small part of his mind which was still frantically fighting to recover control, did the first thing that came to it.

"Stupefy!" Harry whispered through clenched teeth, pointing his wand on himself. His mind went blank for a brief moment but he didn't completely lose consciousness, probably due to a poorly cast stunning charm. He was floating in and out as his body began to grow lax while his painful gasps eased into steady rise and fall of his chest. He slowly opened his eyes as he stared at what could only be the underside of a bed.

He tried to clear his head, putting his rusty Occlumency skills to use, pushing away what was not making sense to him. Everything has an explanation… Everything will become clear soon… He kept on repeating those words in his head. Feeling a state of calm return to him, he rolled back on to his stomach and raised himself on his elbows. He turned around his body to face away from the wall and looked around the dorm from under the bed. He noticed the drapes and realized that he was actually under his own bed.

He heard the door knob turn as he was about to drag himself out from under his bed. He quickly rolled to his side and aimed his wand at the door from under the bed, sweat sliding down his temple. He gritted his teeth as he tried to keep his fear at bay. Voldemort was still in play. He was hunting Harry down.

Please be locked. Please be locked. Harry mentally prayed but he knew that a mere locked door wasn't going to stop the Dark Lord. The door clicked and began to open. Harry stopped breathing and the seconds began to drag on forever. His wand arm was beginning to shake violently as he tried to make out the outline of his archenemy standing in the dark doorway. He ignored the sudden pain in his shoulder and swallowed back his cry of agony. A horrifying wail echoed into the room, chilling Harry to his very bone. However, the door closed shut after just opening a crack. What...?

Harry just stared at the door for what could have been an eternity but it had only been a few seconds. The stillness stretched on interrupted as the unbearable silence returned with a vengeance.

I am right here. Just kill me and get this farce over with! Harry mentally screamed. This morbid game, the way in which Voldemort was toying with Harry was getting unbearable for him, his mental state once again going under. He stood up and with foolish boldness threw open the door. "Come and get me!" He challenged at the top of his voice. Not finding anyone, he ran downstairs, as if rushing to his own death. The fireplace was lit and the moonlight poured into the common room but there was no sign of his nemesis. Where are you hiding? The prey became the predator, it seemed.

With a false sense of courage Harry pushed open the portrait hole, half expecting to see the inside of his dormitory again. However, he was in the corridor just the way he remembered. That being said, it was unnaturally dark and the ends of corridors were completed shrouded in black, as if ready to swallow anyone into the dark void who dare approach it.

Harry started moving forward, trying to put all of his strength into his steps as he forced his way through the dark haze that was pushing him back. His breaths were beginning to grow ragged as an unexplained sense of dread began to creep under his skin. With each step the terror began to amplify and it grew so overwhelmingly that Harry's feet froze to a complete stop. Uncontrolled panic began to crush him in its grasp, every part of him screaming to run back and return to the safe confines of the common room. His resolve finally overpowered, he gave in to his primal instinct to flee for his life. He bolted for the common room with such ferocity as if his very life depended on it and flew through the portrait hole like a terrified mouse and shut it behind him. His chest was heaving rapidly as he desperately fought for his sanity.

What was it that just happened behind this door? What was that ominous feeling? What was that overpowering force that was stopping him to leave this prison? He stared at his legs, which were still shaking uncontrollably. Was this Voldemort's doing? Was his death not the Dark Lord's goal? Was he trying to drive him insane? Was he planning to control him after weakening his mind as he did at that time-

A sudden memory almost blasted him off his feet. He began to recall the events that had transpired at the Department of Mysteries. He remembered how he fell into a trap set by Voldemort and how he became the reason behind the death of his godfather.

Sirius… A tear rolled down Harry's cheek. The guilt was threatening to crush him under it's weight. He still didn't know whether his friends who he had dragged along with him were okay or not. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to them. He had to find out…

Harry also had a faint memory of what happened right at the end when Voldemort tried to take over his mind. But he failed, didn't he? A horrible thought entered his mind. What if-what if Voldemort was still in head, trying to cripple him, waiting for the moment when he was at his weakest and then pounce on him from where he was least expecting. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced of his deductions. He had to escape his clutches. He had to find a way to escape from this realm where he had no control. He had to force Voldemort out from his mind. The question was how?

Out of nowhere his Firebolt materialized right before his feet. He frowned as he stared at it. Didn't he drop it here when he had tried to flee earlier? Why did it just suddenly appear? Was this another one of Voldemort's traps? Or was it a sign? Was this the part of his mind which was still in his control, trying to resist, trying to fight back? He didn't know but he just couldn't ignore it. He picked up the broomstick and glanced towards the large open window.

Was his means of escape through that window? Was he supposed to fly, far from this place, far from the reaches of Voldemort?

It was worth giving a try.

And so he set flight for no destination in particular, just somewhere far away from where he currently was. He readied himself as the distance began to grow between himself and the school. And then it came. First was the slight uneasiness that slowly began to wash over him, followed by the growing discomfort and then… an utter sense of doom…

Harry fought hard, willing every fibre of his body to push on but he was failing miserably. He was losing the battle sooner than he had in the corridor. His body refused to cooperate anymore as his mind helplessly roared to regain control. The feeling was akin to him intentionally drowning himself while his body involuntarily struggled, trying to stay afloat. His broom began to vibrate uncontrollably and slowed down. As if with a mind of its own, the Firebolt swerved around and began to fly straight back to his dormitory.

His defeated mind could only watch as a mere spectator as he was thrown back into his prison. He got off his broomstick as he landed in his dormitory and stared blankly at the closed door. Voldemort was winning. He was already losing his mind. The pain in his forehead wasn't really helping matters.

There was no escape, at least nothing that he could think of. He began to move aimlessly, completely lost. His sanity was slowing withering away…

He was in the common room before he even realized it. His blank gaze captured the flickering flames of the fireplace. He was feeling extremely cold so he moved closer to the only source of warmth and sat in the sofa opposite the hearth, dropping the Firebolt on the floor. The fireplace immediately extinguished and the whole common room was swallowed in darkness. There was no reprieve for him...

His eyes spotted a stack of parchments on the table before him which he hadn't noticed earlier. Something was written on it but it was too dark to make out the words.

"Lumos" With mild curiosity, he leaned forward and read those sinister words. He wished he hadn't...

'Kill Yourself'

What was more disturbing was the fact that he recognized the narrow and loopy handwriting immediately. It was Dumbledore's without a doubt. Another sick joke on Voldemort's part, he was sure of. He sank back into the sofa and closed his eyes.

Was this the final nail in Harry's coffin? Was he so desperate to escape this nightmare that he would surrender himself? Was he completely driven into the corner that killing himself was the only solution left with him? Would he actually die? Isn't all of this happening in his head? He no longer knew anything anymore...

As if on cue, the large window opened on its own behind him, followed by a gust of cold icy wind ruffling his already untidy hair and cut into his skin. Harry gave a cold dry laugh. He finally realized what that horrific incident that happened earlier meant. It was a hint for Harry. It was an indication of what was to come. It was Voldemort's cruel way to remind Harry what he had to do escape this torment. It was almost as if he was daring Harry to do the irreversible deed. Or maybe it was the final ploy to push Harry over the edge. Literally...

Harry stood up slowly and walked up to the window. He tried to look down to see how far high it was but the small ledge again came in the way.

I want to be free. No matter what the cost. The world be damned. Dark thoughts had him completely in its clutches. The sound of reason inside him began to choke and fade away, suffocated by the malevolence that enshrouded him.

He raised himself onto the window sill, his dead eyes staring at the cold earth that was impatiently waiting to swallow him. It seemed so far below. He was inches away from meeting his end.

His cold body gave one last tremble as the last of the rebellion inside him was finally smothered. He raised his head and looked at the vast expanse before him and then closed his eyes. His heart pounded ferociously, trying to get in as many beats as it could before it would cease to move. He began to lean forward, swallowing in his last few breaths.

And then he was flying.

And then… nothingness…