The Poet

: narrated mostly by Harry Potter :
: Authored by just a bit potty :

: key :
((text))flashback
textthoughts
textcounter-thoughts

Chapter V - Melt down, time is too late

warning: prepare to be confused and possibly devastated...

Pre-story notes and warnings: THIS DOES GET PRETTY WEIRD AND TWISTED AS THE CHAPTER GOES ON!
Now... I know, I know, it's taken aaaaages for me to get this out, and I'm sorry! I'm not even sure when the next one will be out... to make up for it (a little) this chapter is pretty long... though you'll probably hate me for the ending anyway. Heh heh. Review responses are at the bottom this time.

To my reviewers: I'm really sorry, but this chapter I can only offer a broad (and heartfelt) thankyou to all of you that reviewed! If you asked a question in your review that you really wanted answered, please do ask again, or email me XD I just let it get too out of hand this time, too many reviews to go through at this time of night reply to xx I thought I'd just get this chapter out ASAP rather than prolong it's release by re-reading all my reviews and replying ; so, yeah, please if you have a question you left in your reviews that I didn't answer this time around, please feel free to ask again or email.

And now on to the next chapter...

In the last chapter...

"It's been two weeks, now! Before that you'd being doing fine, hadn't you? At least you would still smile..."

... "I... have to go see... someone."

Ron only stands there, a solemn statue, as I slowly walk away.

"Look at me, Potter..."

Inside my mind, I feel a constant pressure... pulsing against my consciousness. Pushing, pushing... trying to escape. Trying to invade. A whimper chokes past my aching throat. Please stop... please...Ahh!

I struggle so hard... I try... I try... but... I...

I fall...

"Don't you dare shut me out boy, you'll regret it... OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

Bang. Bang. Bang. BANG!

The boy cries. "Somebody... PLEASE! Help me!"

A scream.

He can't stop screaming.

I walk.

Left foot, right foot, left...

I don't stop. Even when the floor melts beneath me, I walk. Don't stop walking.

The walls pulse and breathe around me, sucking me deeper. Soaring higher and higher above me. Their framed faces whisper, murmur, all point and stare with empty eyes. It's not real... nothing's...real...

Don't stop walking... Left foot, right foot, left...

My hands swing slowly, skeletal pendulums. The icy fingers brush against my robes. The rough material is harsh against the soft flesh, but I can't stop...

I walk because I don't know... I don't know where I am. What I'm doing here.

I'm Harry... right? Harry... something... I'm not even sure anymore...

I feel like more than just more than just the castle is watching me. There are eyes... Eyes that never leave me, never blink or look away. Eyes inside my head... inside but still watching. Most haunting are anguished golden eyes, sparkling with translucent tears. Most devastating are pale blue eyes, swallowed by ghostly mist. Most painful are fathomless green, wide and screaming in silent fear. Most intense are glistening silver eyes, burning brightly into me...

Most frightening of all are eyes the color of blood; laughing, evil eyes...

I want to be afraid of those eyes... I feel like I should be... Those eyes mean death...

Is death really so scary?

I don't know... I don't know anymore, and that's what's so confusing. My whole head is a grey area, swallowed by fathomless pits of darkness...

Isolated voices tear at me from all directions. I don't know which to follow, but still, they all beckon me toward them. Tendrils of sound wrapping around my hands and feet, pulling me apart, like I'm a criminal to be drawn and quartered. A desperate cry is wrenched from my throat, but my own tongue, thick and dry inside my mouth, strangles the pathetic sound.

I toss my head in one direction, and the voices boom louder. Helpless, I can only stare into my own darkness, and suddenly I'm not here anymore...

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay. 1

(( I'm in a room. Grime licks at the walls, making them slimy and cold to touch. The light is strangled by an all-encompassing darkness. The air is damp and heavy, so thick it feels as if I'm wading through water as I slowly step forward. I wonder, as my boots make no sound on the stone floor. It feels as though they should...

But then my eyes are inevitably drawn to a huddled mass at my feet. It trembles and jerks, its body twitching violently like its limbs were being tugged in all opposite directions. The thing looks so pitiful... wretchedly pale, the kind of sickly white you only see from the deathly ill, like marble stretched over bone. So thin and delicate, a wisp of a creature, its face all obscured by a thick tumble of stringy black hair. I feel... sad... staring at this pitiful sight. Yes... sad. There is nothing else to feel.

It's then I become aware of another nearby. For some reason, my heart clenches painfully as I stare at the black-clad form, fallen to his knees. This one, too, shudders. His face I can see. Framed by slick sable locks, this face has the pallid air of one deprived from sunlight. His nose is large, aquiline. His mouth a jagged gash, pressed together so tightly his thin lips turn as white as his skin. But those eyes... endless pits of shadow, the lightless color of his irises swims in glittering moisture. There can only way to describe the world of emotion those eyes reveal: devastation... horror... It's nearly destroying to witness this man crumble before the convulsing form of that horrid, skinny creature. It's...

...heart breaking...

Then the creature stops its trembling, and lies deathly still. For a moment, I believe it really has passed on, and feel almost... relieved. But then its body hurls upright, emaciated arms outstretched as if warding off approaching danger. Its eyes meet those of the cowed man; I gasp as I see them. A startling green, a vortex of strangely vibrant color with barely pinpricks for pupils. It's then I realize, that this isn't a creature... it's a boy. A small, frightened boy.

My chest aches. He seems so familiar...

My eyes gaze upon them both in a kind of numb fascination. The man seems to have no words, his lips quaver silently. The boy's, too. Until... finally...

"No..."

The boy... his voice is chilled with terror, as if he'd just seen the most terrifying thing anyone could think of. As if he'd just seen the gaping maw of death threatening to swallow him whole, and had barely escaped with his life.

"No...!" he says again, a hoarse, urgent whisper.

It seems to snap the man from his trance, but all he utters is, "Mr. Potter..." in the kind of numb way that people do when they aren't sure if something is real or not.

"No!" this time his voice is louder, though no less brittle. He scuttles backwards with all the strength he can muster. "You didn't see! You saw nothing!" I feel his anger, his desperation, thundering in my chest as if it was my own.

The man is still horrified. Dimly he reaches for his wand, and I feel scared for the poor boy.

"NO! YOU SAW NOTHING! Forget...! Forget! FORGET!" with that last scream blue magic bolts from the shivering boy, and the man has no time to protect himself. It washes over his body like an angry tidal wave, and then fades to nothing but a memory. The man is left in a heap on the floor, his sallow skin stark against the murky stone, his hair an oleaginous fan beneath his head.

I just... wanted... him... to forget...

The boy screams again, his emerald eyes scrunched tightly against the world, and before I know it I have my eyes closed to. I feel hands grab my hair and pull, clutching it in an iron grip, and realize they're my hands.

"FORGET, FORGET, FORGET!"

Stop it—

"FORGET!"

I SAID STOP!))

And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care. 2

My eyes snap open. Cold nips at my skin, lingering from that nightmare... The boy and that man. I want to feel sad for them. The boy, for the obvious pain he was in. The man, for the devastation he so plainly felt. Before, I clearly remember being sad, worried, scared, as I watched them. So little but so much happened to them in that short time. But it's as if... it doesn't touch me anymore. Already the emotion has fled, and I feel nothing. Perhaps they weren't even real.

The walls are sliding by slowly, unevenly, and I realize that I'm the reason the walls are moving. They're not moving, it's me that's moving now. Walking slowly forward, with an uneasy gait.

Those voices again, I hear them biting at my heels. But when I turn, I see nothing, only the pitch black swallowing the path I had just trodden. No matter... I don't plan on going back that way.

I don't plan on going anywhere.

But I do end up somewhere.

My head swivels left, and I'm face with two intricate doors, a giant's doors, that stretch way up to the misty ceiling. My knees are suddenly weighted with lead, and I slide slowly to the floor. Yes... I don't need to walk anymore. I will just sit here for a while. I'm too tired to keep walking. Instead I gaze quietly at the great doors before me. I can still hear the voices... they are closing in on me, but I can't move anymore. I just want to sit here...

I don't need to keep going. I'll just rest a little while... Just a... little while...

(( I blink in surprise. I'm in a strange place again. But this time, it's not a dank dungeon. It's a room glowing with a healthy warmth from the fireplace. Bright, jovial colors trounce the walls and furniture, reds and golds, splashed with blue, green and even silver. I'm sure I didn't mean to come here... I just wanted to rest. All the same, here is where I am.

At first I think I'm alone. My eyes meander around the room. It seems like this is a happy, romantic place. Christmas-like decorations adorn almost every corner of the room. Tinsel draped across the fireplace, ribbons of red and green trussing up any dim corner or object. Holly and mistletoe dangle randomly from the ceiling. More impressive are the airborne candles, gently floating around the room. Those, too, have silver, red and green ribbons tied about their middles.

There are soft, inviting sofas. A low-set table filled to the brim with candies and chocolates, rich cakes, freshly baked bread and hot, steaming tea. Beneath my feet, the deep red carpet is so thick my feet disappear into it. I notice that no paintings adorn the walls, and for some reason that seems odd to me. I really believe I am alone here... and I don't think it's such a bad place for someone to be alone in.

But then I hear something. A grunt.

My eyes search, and find... a bed. And the two people entwined atop it. Their bare skin glows seductively in the ambience set by the candles and the quiet fire in the hearth. Both are very nearly naked, grasping at each other desperately... but No. One seems to be pushing the other away, his slender hands grasping at the bigger boy's shoulders in an attempt to force him off. But it seems the boy with such pale, corn-silk hair has no intention of heeding the dark-haired boy's efforts; his kisses only grown more fervent, sloppily trailing over his companion's face and neck. The path of saliva left behind glistens wetly in the light.

Finally, the boy with the dark hair speaks, and opens familiar green eyes to stare at the one above him, "Stop it, Draco! I said I don't want to."

"Come on, love, don't deny me anymore. Just let me—"

A cry escapes the smaller boy as... Draco... That name sounds so familiar... as Draco unceremoniously shoves a hand down his already loosened pants. He shakes his head in denial and still tries to shove Draco away. "Please! I said no!"

"And I said yes!"

My breath caught in my throat. I want to rush over there and stop him from what I know he will do. I can smell the liquor on his breath from hear, with each vulgar grunt. But I do nothing, only stand, rooted to where I am.

Even as Draco's attentions gain more ferocity, literally ripping down the dark-haired boy's pants. I can't even turn away. I want to stop this so much. But I...can't. It will happen... I can't do anything...

I ... couldn't... do anything... when he...

The portrait door bangs open with a yelp from its guardian, and a redheaded tornado flies in. At first it seems she doesn't notice the pair on the bed, and begins talking immediately.

"I know I said I was leaving with Ron for Christmas, and I still am, I just couldn't wait any longer! I need to tell you, H—"

Her words are squashed into silence as she finally sees the two boys. I wonder... why doesn't she see me? Don't I exist?

Draco curses. The other boy's head is turned away, yet I can still see the tears of shame staining his pristine cheeks. I stare into his defeated expression, almost overwhelmed. He looks so heart broken, so crushed that this Draco would do this to him. I don't think he even realizes that the fiery young woman has just entered.

In fact, I didn't even realize she was speaking again...

"...could you! I thought we..." Her blue eyes flood with moisture, betrayal.

The boy's breath hitches. "...Ginny..?"

In that moment, I see a small piece of that boy wither... and die...))

"...just found him like that, sitting in front of the doors, staring at nothing."

"You don't know how long he's been like this, then?"

"No, I have no idea, Madame Pomfrey."

I'm awake. I just realized that. Those are real voices I'm hearing, not the phantoms that chased me through the halls. Those did seem real though...

"Harry?"

"You see? Nothing. I tried for fifteen minutes. It's like he's not even there."

"I understand, Mr. Weasley. Thank you for bringing him to me."

"Do you... have any idea what's wrong with him?"

"My guess is, the shock has finally caught up with him. It must have been awful, witnessing something like that... he seemed so fine when he came back. It must have just finally hit him. Poor boy..."

"Well... I better go tell Hermione that he's here. Can we come back later?"

"Yes, I think that would be good. Perhaps it might help bring him out of it. Until then... I'm afraid there's not much we can do."

The voices leave me, chased by soft footfalls. Who were they talking about? Is it me? My eyes slide open — funny, but I hadn't even realized they'd been shut.

It's just you and me now.

Yes... I'm all alone. Maybe now I can rest. Before those voices come back... I'll just close my eyes, and...

(( Again, I find myself in a strange place. Another room, this one washed with reds and gold. It's oddly circular, with five poster beds; all of them seem to be occupied, with their wispy curtains drawn back to let the moonlight wash over their slumbering bodies. But there's one bed with its curtains drawn tightly shut. It glows from inside, and I can see the silhouette of a hunched over body. Rocking back and forth, slowly. Curious, I venture forward, cringing as something crunches beneath my feet. My eyes fall to land on the piece of paper I'd just stepped on. Small, messy script is written jaggedly across the page. It's only a small parchment, just enough for what's on it.

I bend down, shifting my foot back so I can pick it up. I bring the paper closer to my eyes, squinting as I read its contents...

He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot. 2

At that moment, I hear a sharp tear, and glance up in time to see another shy scrap fall from behind those mysteriously closed curtains. It trembles on the still air, fluttering to the floor with barely a whisper. Almost like a treasure trail, leading me forward. Drawn in, I can't help but stumble closer, sinking to my knees. With the other parchment crumpled in my hand, I reach out and pick it up. This, too, has small, scribbled phrases marring its surface...

Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Caterpillar and Fly
Feed on the Mystery. 2

Finally, I raise my eyes to the bed before me. With a trembling hand, I push back the curtains, peering over the edge of the mattress.

Inside is a boy. I want to think it's the same boy as before, on the bed with that Draco. But he seems too thin, brittle like an autumn leaf. Then I think perhaps it's the boy in the dungeons, but he seems too... alive to be that helpless creature.

No, this boy... he is surrounded by a sea of pale yellow paper, stained by thousands of inked words. Not even a patch of bedcover is exposed, it's only him and the parchment. Scribbling frenetically on any available paper, his bright green eyes are glazed and empty as all his thoughts escape through his bent quill.

Those eyes... they are the same as the other boys'. All three were such a vivacious green. It must be the same boy. But who is he?

My hand reaches out before I can stop it. It wavers in the air briefly, before brushing against the boy's shoulder. It's hard and bony beneath his flimsy pajamas.

Almost instantly, he stills. The quill slips from his fingertips. For a long while, he simply sits and does nothing. Then slowly... slowly... his head swivels toward me and I'm trapped in a venomous green void. A thrill of fear tingles down my spine. I whimper, and amazingly find tears obscuring my vision. "No..." I whisper.

I try to pull away, but a surprisingly strong hand wraps around mine. A choked scream bursts from my lips, as I'm suddenly jerked forward, my knees leave the floor and I'm sprawled over the bed, the sharp edges of paper biting into my skin. More tears spill from my eyes. I don't know what's happening... before he never noticed me, why now did he—

"You don't know any more, do you Harry?"

I shake my head mutely, burying my face into my arms. His body drapes across mine, hands worming down my sides and up again. I trill in horror, sobbing. My tears leak onto the paper beneath me and smear the words.

"It's all over, Harry! It's too late! Why do you even try! Just let them go—you don't need those memories... it's just you and me now, Harry. Just you and me... you don't need anyone else but yourself..."

Rough lips nip at my neck and shoulders. I want him to stop... I try so hard to make my body move, but all I can do is weep into the shallow refuge my folded arms provide.

"You shouldn't keep trying to remember these things, Harry... don't you see how much pain it causes you?"

Like a rag-doll, my body is brusquely rolled over, and I'm all of a sudden staring up into familiar luminous green. They loom closer, wide and bright and I can see nothing but those eyes.

"You don't even understand anymore, do you Harry...? Nobody knows but me, and you've locked me away in here forever." Soft fingers graze my cheek with mock tenderness. "You're not even yourself anymore, Harry... only I know who you are. You don't need anyone else, Harry... you only need me..."

Those eyes, so full of pain, anguish, anger... they are the last things I see before my lips are claimed in an uncaring kiss...

Maybe he's right... maybe I don't need anyone else...

All I have is myself...))

And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade. 2

"Harry... you're awake!" a quiet voice cracks brokenly to my left. I shift my gaze to find its owner, and see a wild brush of chestnut hair. Then it lifts, and I see a pretty face smiling at my sadly, with silvery trails kissing down her soft cheeks. "I can't believe it, Harry... you're finally awake."

My fingers twitch as I try to raise them. I have the urge to touch her unruly hair, to brush the stray tendrils from her face.

"You've just been lying here for days, staring at nothing. Madame Pomfrey is in a meeting with the Headmaster about you — they were about to send you away, Harry!"

Her face crumples in torment, and then she launches herself at me, flinging her arms over me in a desperate embrace. Her heartbroken sobs soak my neck and shoulder. Dully, I run my hands over the spill of dark hair covering my chest. It's silky and thick.

After a while, she slowly lifts herself off me, wiping helplessly at her shimmering eyes. "I'm so glad you're awake, Harry."

"You are pretty," I say, and smile up at her. "You have nice hair."

Her eyes once again flood with tears, but she determinedly brushes them away. "Th-thankyou, Harry... I... I better go tell Ron you're awake. He's sleeping now, finally. He sat at your side all day and all night for two days. I made him get some sleep, but he made me promise to wake him as soon as you... came back to us."

As she speaks, she's already rising from her chair, brushing off her robes. Before I have a chance to say anything more, she's already rushing out of the room, staring at me over her shoulder all the while.

She seemed like a really nice girl... her hair was soft.

I'm alone again now.

Not completely alone, Harry... you've still got me.

I shudder minutely, but nod all the same. Yes, I've still got him. I know who he is now, he's the boy.

I don't feel like lying here anymore. I wonder if anyone would miss me if I went for a walk? The girl might, but I forget what she was saying... I think she left to find somebody. She might not be back for a while. I think I have time for just a quick walk.

A rush of dizziness swirls around my head as I slowly rise. As I slowly swing my feet over the edge of the bed, I glance down. My clothes are all white, soft and cottony. For the first time, I take notice of my surroundings, too. There are lots of beds in here, each with neat tables right next to them. It looks very cozy, but at the same time feel kind of sterile. I'm not sure I like this room that much. My feet touch the floor.

There we go... I'm on my feet now. It's a little funny, because the floor wobbles as I walk towards the door, but after a minute or two I get used to it. All the same, I have to stare at my feet to make sure they are doing the right thing.

When I look up again, an unfamiliar hall greets me. Smaller corridors branch of from this one, which seems to be heading towards a slender staircase that curls around like a shell towards the next floor. I decide to just keep walking forward, falling to my knees as I reach the stairs. One by one, I crawl up the stairs. It's almost like an adventure.

I feel insubstantial, like I don't even exist. Like if I'm not careful, I'll simply fall through these stairs. Like I could put my hand against a wall, and have it fall through. It's a giddy, disorienting feeling. Like I'm made of nothing but my thoughts. An empty ghost.

Once more I raise my eyes, breaking from my thoughts, as I feel a soft breeze tickle my ear. It's so cool and tender; I keep climbing, urged by the zephyr. Then I see blue, pale and cold. It's the sky, I realize, as I reach the top of the stairs and crawl out onto a small, circular platform, fenced by a low stone wall. It must be one of this castle's highest towers.

The breeze picks up again, lifting under my arms until I can't help but stand. It kisses my face like a gentle lover, caressing my cheeks, my lips. Before me the blue sky stretches on endlessly, laced with the softest white clouds. I feel like I could fly. I want to fly. It would be a great adventure. I don't think... I don't think it would be too bad if I stepped off. Just to see if I really can fly. I think the wind would pick me up, and carry me off into those wispy clouds. I like that idea.

I feel strangely dizzy, though, so I'm careful as I walk closer to the edge. It's a little tricky, but I manage to crawl up onto the thick lip of stone that runs around the edge of the platform. I pull my legs around, until my feet are pressed against the stone, ready to push of at any moment. The wind whistles approvingly, wrapping around my arms.

I think.. I think I can do it...

"HARRY!"

I turn, shyly, and peek over my shoulder. It's that boy with the pale hair, his face twisted in fear. I can see his just his face, as he's trying to climb the stairs as fast as possible. I offer him a smile, holding out my hand to him. He looks so sad; I really don't think he meant to hurt the green-eyed boy.

He's too slow, though. I don't have time to wait.

A laugh breaks free of my lips, and I curl my fingers at him.

Smiling still, I spread my arms wide, close my eyes... and push off the edge.

To be continued...

NOTES:

1. This first poem is Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Lee Frost.

2. This second poem is from Human Abstract by William Blake. It's missing the first and last stanzas.

3. In case you didn't understand: Yes, the green-eyed boy in Harry's 'visions' IS Harry. They are sort of 'flashbacks' to certain events that have been blotted from Harry's memory. The last one is, too, except this time he interferes with his 'memory'... I have an explanation for what is happening, and if needed I will explain further in the next chapter, but I'd like to see what all of YOU think is actually happening in that last 'vision'.

TIME FOR A VOTE, PEOPLE: After this, it will be a jump back into the past, to fill in some of the gaps and mysteries. The question is: Whose POV will it be in the upcoming chapter(s)? Hermione's, Ron's, or Draco's?

Keep in mind, whoever you pick, will determine which mysteries are solved first, for instance, if you pick Hermione or Ron, things like what happened during the times Harry would 'black out' and suddenly find himself somewhere else, or exactly why everyone has just left Harry be, thinking he's just mourning. If you choose Draco, it will be more along the lines of what happened between them, were they in a relationship, what happened the night Draco got drunk... etc... Both POV's WILL be written, it's just a matter of which is written first/which mysteries are brought into light first. It's up to you guys!

PLEASE REVIEW, YA? Don't make me ransom this fic AGAIN lol I am sho evil.