Chapter Nine: Requiem for a Dream
"And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again…" - William Wordsworth, "Tintern Abbey"
I have fallen well and truly asleep, a peaceful darkness descending on me. I don't know how long I've been floating in this darkness when I see a flash of light across my closed eyes. I squeeze them tighter, intent on returning to the deep night. But the light won't let me. It flashes again, and suddenly I'm in a forest. It's must be in the very early morning, because I can detect the lightening of the dark sky just over the treetops. Some part of me knows that this is a dream, and a little voice whispers somewhere in my subconscious, 'I thought Snape said this would be a dreamless sleep…" Before I get a chance to ponder the mistake he must have made while brewing the potion, a rustling in the bushes to my right cause me to turn. A short woman with a round face and long chestnut hair pulled back into a messy bun come running towards me.
"Arrow!" She cries, brown eyes wide in fear, "They're here! There's just too many of them! We have to find Spark and the others, and get the hell away!" She clutches at my hand, trying to pull me out of the clearing.
I speak in a voice that's mine, but isn't. "Calm down, Jakura. Tell me, where are they?" Before she can answer, there's another rustling, from which emerges a tall man in a black robes. I can't see his face, it's masked, and in the back of my mind I think one word: Dementor. But it isn't a dementor, and the person who's me in this dream knows that.
My dream self holds my wand out, ready to cast the first curse that came to mind, but before I can, the man utters one shrill word, "Expelliarmus!" My and Jakura's wands are ripped from our hands, and we watch helplessly as the man in black catches them easily. He laughs harshly, and I can only imagine what his face must look like under that mask, twisting in cruel mirth. Suddenly, we are surrounded by what must be about fifty people, all garbed in robes and masks, and all I can hear is the voice in my mind screaming, 'Death Eaters!' Jakura and I stand back to back, covering each other as best we can.
The Death Eaters watch us laughing with the same manner as the tall Death Eater. Without warning, they fall silent, and one section of their ranks split, and another man walks into the clearing. He is not masked, and I can see his face as clearly as if it were the middle of the afternoon. His eyes are an icy blue, set in a coldly handsome face, his jet-black hair slicked back carefully. A snake is wrapped around his shoulders, hissing at us balefully. Immediately I know who it is, without a doubt.
"Voldemort." My dream self whispers. Jakura goes still, I can feel her muscles freezing against my back, but we both stay where we are. Only I have the full view of the Dark Lord, and he smiles at me. "Well, well. What do we have here?" his voice is almost unnaturally high, and he raises one of his hands to stroke the head of the snake perched on his shoulders. I nearly shudder at the sight of his hands, with long, delicate fingers, that stretch up with careful movement. He never takes his eyes off me. "What would two people like you be doing walking around the forest at this ungodly hour? It's quite dangerous here…you never know what you might run into." The Death Eaters give a short laugh, and Voldemort continues to smile his pitiless smile.
He steps forward a little more until he's nearly nose-to-nose with me. I recoil slightly, but am not able to go far because of Jakura against my back.
"You wouldn't happen to be trying to capture me, would you?" Voldemort murmurs dangerously, "That is something I wouldn't recommend anyone doing. Especially a Muggle-lover like you and a Mudblood like the one we've got here."
Before I can react, he's reached over and grabbed Jakura by the hair, pulling her away from me so that she's by his side. His snake hisses indignantly before sliding off his master's shoulder and slithering off into the forest.
I make a small sound in the back of my throat and lunge forward, but Voldemort halts me by pointing his wand at her throat. "Ah, I wouldn't suggest you try anything funny, my poor, misguided friend. I can easily kill your Mudblood friend here; it just takes one tiny word and a flick of my wrist and you'll be attending her funeral."
I stop moving, but look at him with pure contempt and hatred. He pulls Jakura's head back none-too gently, so that she's looking up at him. "Well, what would you suggest, Mudblood? I could kill you and let your partner live, or I could kill your friend and let you go free. Which should I do?"
Jakura stares at him, her face twisted in disgust. "Whichever I choose, you'll just kill both of us anyway."
Voldemort laughs coldly, the laughter never reaching those azure blue eyes. "That may be, but I would like to know which you would prefer? Your life or your friend's, it's up to you."
Jakura closes her eyes, then opens them and looks the Dark Lord full in the face without a single trace of fear. "Kill me. Let Arrow live."
"No!" My dream self screams, "Jakura, I'm not worth it! Take my life instead, Voldemort. Let her go, and take me in her place."
Voldemort laughs again, throwing Jakura roughly to the ground, and I rush to her side, shielding her with my body. "You noble-minded fools! You all are so willing to give your lives for one another; it makes me feel ill. However, let's just say your pleading has touched this heart of mine," here he pauses, dramatically holding a hand over his chest, where his heart supposedly exists, before continuing, "And I have decided not to kill one of you. I have created a plan, which will leave one of you alive. Lucius, give me their wands."
The tall Death Eater who first found us walks over and hands the Dark Lord our wands. I watch furiously as Voldemort holds out his wand, pointing it lazily at me.
"Now you, go to that side of the circle." He commands, and I feel like a giant hand lifts me by my neck and drops me twenty feet away from where Jakura stands. I stand still, fearfully waiting for what will happen next.
Voldemort is standing in between the two of us, holding my wand pointed at Jakura, her wand pointed at me. "I have now chosen which one of you will live, and which one will die. Are there any words you want to share before you depart from this life?" I look desperately at Jakura.
"Arrow…" She whispers, and I murmur, "Jakura." If either of us were about to say something, it was cut off by Voldemort screaming, "Stupefy! Avada Kedavra!" I see a flash of white and then green light, and my world is plunged into darkness once again.
"And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again…" - William Wordsworth, "Tintern Abbey"
I have fallen well and truly asleep, a peaceful darkness descending on me. I don't know how long I've been floating in this darkness when I see a flash of light across my closed eyes. I squeeze them tighter, intent on returning to the deep night. But the light won't let me. It flashes again, and suddenly I'm in a forest. It's must be in the very early morning, because I can detect the lightening of the dark sky just over the treetops. Some part of me knows that this is a dream, and a little voice whispers somewhere in my subconscious, 'I thought Snape said this would be a dreamless sleep…" Before I get a chance to ponder the mistake he must have made while brewing the potion, a rustling in the bushes to my right cause me to turn. A short woman with a round face and long chestnut hair pulled back into a messy bun come running towards me.
"Arrow!" She cries, brown eyes wide in fear, "They're here! There's just too many of them! We have to find Spark and the others, and get the hell away!" She clutches at my hand, trying to pull me out of the clearing.
I speak in a voice that's mine, but isn't. "Calm down, Jakura. Tell me, where are they?" Before she can answer, there's another rustling, from which emerges a tall man in a black robes. I can't see his face, it's masked, and in the back of my mind I think one word: Dementor. But it isn't a dementor, and the person who's me in this dream knows that.
My dream self holds my wand out, ready to cast the first curse that came to mind, but before I can, the man utters one shrill word, "Expelliarmus!" My and Jakura's wands are ripped from our hands, and we watch helplessly as the man in black catches them easily. He laughs harshly, and I can only imagine what his face must look like under that mask, twisting in cruel mirth. Suddenly, we are surrounded by what must be about fifty people, all garbed in robes and masks, and all I can hear is the voice in my mind screaming, 'Death Eaters!' Jakura and I stand back to back, covering each other as best we can.
The Death Eaters watch us laughing with the same manner as the tall Death Eater. Without warning, they fall silent, and one section of their ranks split, and another man walks into the clearing. He is not masked, and I can see his face as clearly as if it were the middle of the afternoon. His eyes are an icy blue, set in a coldly handsome face, his jet-black hair slicked back carefully. A snake is wrapped around his shoulders, hissing at us balefully. Immediately I know who it is, without a doubt.
"Voldemort." My dream self whispers. Jakura goes still, I can feel her muscles freezing against my back, but we both stay where we are. Only I have the full view of the Dark Lord, and he smiles at me. "Well, well. What do we have here?" his voice is almost unnaturally high, and he raises one of his hands to stroke the head of the snake perched on his shoulders. I nearly shudder at the sight of his hands, with long, delicate fingers, that stretch up with careful movement. He never takes his eyes off me. "What would two people like you be doing walking around the forest at this ungodly hour? It's quite dangerous here…you never know what you might run into." The Death Eaters give a short laugh, and Voldemort continues to smile his pitiless smile.
He steps forward a little more until he's nearly nose-to-nose with me. I recoil slightly, but am not able to go far because of Jakura against my back.
"You wouldn't happen to be trying to capture me, would you?" Voldemort murmurs dangerously, "That is something I wouldn't recommend anyone doing. Especially a Muggle-lover like you and a Mudblood like the one we've got here."
Before I can react, he's reached over and grabbed Jakura by the hair, pulling her away from me so that she's by his side. His snake hisses indignantly before sliding off his master's shoulder and slithering off into the forest.
I make a small sound in the back of my throat and lunge forward, but Voldemort halts me by pointing his wand at her throat. "Ah, I wouldn't suggest you try anything funny, my poor, misguided friend. I can easily kill your Mudblood friend here; it just takes one tiny word and a flick of my wrist and you'll be attending her funeral."
I stop moving, but look at him with pure contempt and hatred. He pulls Jakura's head back none-too gently, so that she's looking up at him. "Well, what would you suggest, Mudblood? I could kill you and let your partner live, or I could kill your friend and let you go free. Which should I do?"
Jakura stares at him, her face twisted in disgust. "Whichever I choose, you'll just kill both of us anyway."
Voldemort laughs coldly, the laughter never reaching those azure blue eyes. "That may be, but I would like to know which you would prefer? Your life or your friend's, it's up to you."
Jakura closes her eyes, then opens them and looks the Dark Lord full in the face without a single trace of fear. "Kill me. Let Arrow live."
"No!" My dream self screams, "Jakura, I'm not worth it! Take my life instead, Voldemort. Let her go, and take me in her place."
Voldemort laughs again, throwing Jakura roughly to the ground, and I rush to her side, shielding her with my body. "You noble-minded fools! You all are so willing to give your lives for one another; it makes me feel ill. However, let's just say your pleading has touched this heart of mine," here he pauses, dramatically holding a hand over his chest, where his heart supposedly exists, before continuing, "And I have decided not to kill one of you. I have created a plan, which will leave one of you alive. Lucius, give me their wands."
The tall Death Eater who first found us walks over and hands the Dark Lord our wands. I watch furiously as Voldemort holds out his wand, pointing it lazily at me.
"Now you, go to that side of the circle." He commands, and I feel like a giant hand lifts me by my neck and drops me twenty feet away from where Jakura stands. I stand still, fearfully waiting for what will happen next.
Voldemort is standing in between the two of us, holding my wand pointed at Jakura, her wand pointed at me. "I have now chosen which one of you will live, and which one will die. Are there any words you want to share before you depart from this life?" I look desperately at Jakura.
"Arrow…" She whispers, and I murmur, "Jakura." If either of us were about to say something, it was cut off by Voldemort screaming, "Stupefy! Avada Kedavra!" I see a flash of white and then green light, and my world is plunged into darkness once again.
