Disclaimer: All things Related to Harry Potter is owned and copyrighted by
JK Rowling and no money is being made off this "spinoff," only pure
enjoyment.
Safe in his house on Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry Potter dreamed of a room engulfed in fire. To Harry, safety was an illusion for even in his dreams he was haunted by a dark wizard who killed his parents and caused everlasting pain. When Harry thought he was safe, guarded by his teachers and peers, in tournaments or even Quidditch games, he was often in grave danger.
Now, he was running. Faster and faster he ran for someone was screaming in pain. He had to find this person, this girl, in one of the four identical doors in the vast room. The room seemed to be forged of fire but as Harry ran toward one of the doors, through hundreds of flames, he was not burned nor scarred. Instead, he was dripping in sweat, which had no affect on the growing fire. Aching for water, he pored over his thoughts, trying to find out who Voldemort was hurting. No matter who it was, they would die if he couldn't save them and it would be his fault. Everything Voldemort did, everyone he tortured and killed was Harry's fault.
Realizing who was in that room, Harry urged himself forward. Although he was finally nearing the door, the screaming was growing faint; the girl had a little longer to live. Now, he was at the door, turning the knob, and screaming in pain. The doorknob was burning into his hand, but he had to keep going.
"CHOOOO!!"
Safe in his house on Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry Potter dreamed of a room engulfed in fire. To Harry, safety was an illusion for even in his dreams he was haunted by a dark wizard who killed his parents and caused everlasting pain. When Harry thought he was safe, guarded by his teachers and peers, in tournaments or even Quidditch games, he was often in grave danger.
Now, he was running. Faster and faster he ran for someone was screaming in pain. He had to find this person, this girl, in one of the four identical doors in the vast room. The room seemed to be forged of fire but as Harry ran toward one of the doors, through hundreds of flames, he was not burned nor scarred. Instead, he was dripping in sweat, which had no affect on the growing fire. Aching for water, he pored over his thoughts, trying to find out who Voldemort was hurting. No matter who it was, they would die if he couldn't save them and it would be his fault. Everything Voldemort did, everyone he tortured and killed was Harry's fault.
Realizing who was in that room, Harry urged himself forward. Although he was finally nearing the door, the screaming was growing faint; the girl had a little longer to live. Now, he was at the door, turning the knob, and screaming in pain. The doorknob was burning into his hand, but he had to keep going.
"CHOOOO!!"