Ch 18 The Death Chamber
The room was very familiar. Harry knew the feel and smell and sight of it. He knew how to find it and didn't hesitate until he reached the doorway. At the foot of the stone steps was the circular pit and then, there were the steps ascending to the platform with the arch; an entry or exit to some place, no one knew.
The lights came on immediately. Harry was thinking about his sleepless nights, not just the ones he'd been having since they had killed Voldemort, but all the nights combined together. He was thinking of his lost life, the days he could have spent with his parents, days when he could have led a normal life. He was trying as hard as he could to find the rage he had once had and it was gone. Now he stood at the threshold and he looked at the curtain hanging in the doorway. Together he and Snape had found the glass and gold case that held the cup and had brought it to the doorway of the Room.
Moments later, after gathering his courage together, Harry entered, feeling both the drag of his heart and the pull of the archway.
I can throw the cup in and follow it, he thought. I can end my pain right now and step through. Mum and dad and Sirius will be there, maybe others.
Snape stepped in front of him and turned. "I've offered this before. It's time to take it." He held the Gryffindor wand out again.
Harry stared at it and felt himself tremble, afraid to take it, afraid to touch it. "At the bottom of the stairs." He started down the stairs, remembering every moment of the day that he and his friends had barged into the Ministry in his ill-fated rescue mission.
Snape snarled audibly and followed him down the steps. "Potter!"
Harry stopped and looked back halfway down. He remained silent.
"You must open the case and remove the cup. It is best done with this wand. Don't be foolish. Take it now. It is yours." Snape stepped down beside him once again.
Harry turned and started down the steps again. A hand stopped him and turned him once again. It was done gently.
"You are wrong in your beliefs. You are not Slytherin nor are you tainted by Voldemort's soul. Many see you as a hero." Harry curled his lip in his own snarl and Snape hurried on, "Many need a hero so they can hide behind them, trembling from their own fear and lack of courage. They need a hero to do the work for them. Whether you are a hero or not hardly matters at this moment and carries no weight with me. If you think you must do this for anyone else but yourself then you are committing a grave error. The goal is to get the job done, and done quickly; done in any manner possible. It does not mean done in a perfect way. Your passions have always gotten in your way. You find it difficult to view a situation without allowing that emotion to bleed through and it clouds your thinking. In this, Voldemort has won a victory." His voice was almost pleading in its sincerity.
He continued, " The connection you have with him devours you even now." Snape sighed and continued warily, "However, few would understand...as I do...the thoughts one can have..." Snape stopped, unable to continue for a moment as he waded into unknown territory. "I think that one can be seduced...betrayed by such false feelings. Voldemort had that ability ... to replace a person's personality with his own."
Harry waited for a heartbeat and said very quietly, "Time is a luxury, Professor Snape, perhaps you should get to the point."
"What is inside of you now is not your true self, your thoughts are not your own, but only ghosts of his. I understand what that means... the darkness and depression." Snape stuttered momentarily and then finished, "Only when the cup is destroyed will you regain your true self."
"I thought that's why we were here," Harry shot back immediately. "I thought that's exactly what we are doing except we're standing here on this step and time is going by and the longer I stand here the greater the chance we'll be discovered..."
"That is not the issue and you know it," Snape snapped. "You are thinking about stepping through with it. That is committing suicide. You're afraid he can still win. You're afraid you're not strong enough to throw the cup through without sacrificing yourself, without going with it."
Harry turned and hurried down the rest of the stairs, with the gold case floating before him. He was about to start up the other side. His foot was raised and suddenly it was if a huge weight was bearing down on him. He broke into a sweat and his heart raced. What? he questioned silently. What is this?
He hadn't really counted on there being anything but his own reservations to stop him from flying up those steps and throwing the cup through.
Just as he raised his foot to take the second step he heard the voices above them. He turned his head slowly feeling as if his body was made of stone.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted out.
There, on the topmost tier, was Arthur and Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Ginny Weasley. Harry turned once again and started up the stairs towards the opening and the veil that swayed tantalizing towards him. Sweat beaded and ran down his face. He concentrated on moving his feet and keeping his wand steady as he climbed. A voice in his head began a pounding chant...stop...stop...stop! The voice was familiar.
Snape followed him. Harry could see out of the corner of his eye how easy it was for the man to climb the stairs and he felt a weight dragging at his own feet that was so strong he wondered if the flesh would be torn from his body.
"Take the wand. It will ease the way," Snape whispered.
Harry shook his head. It took every ounce of strength he could muster to do it. He raised his foot and placed it on the next step. The voices behind him, now at the foot of the dais were incoherent and mumbled. He couldn't make out the words. His full concentration was on the next step.
"Harry, you cannot destroy me. We are twins. We are alike, no parents, no home," the wheedling voice penetrated his brain. "You cannot kill half of yourself. We understand each other like no one else. If we survive no one can harm us any longer."
Harry closed his eyes and felt the next step with the sole of his foot and pulled himself upwards.
"We don't need friends, we have no friends. They can't be trusted. They abandon us, lie to us, deceive us." Memories flooded him. Memories of Ron's anger when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, Cho's abandonment, and worst of all; Dumbledore's secrets. For the first time in months he recalled childhood memories of living with the Dursleys. His heart began to ache from the pain he felt of their neglect and abuse.
Tears began to fall along with the sweat. He shrugged off his cloak, holding the wand in one hand and then the other; stepping out of it and dropping it to the steps and still Snape took each stair with him.
Harry was aware the others had tried to join them on the stairs and were being repelled by some force. What was foremost in his mind when he opened his eyes was the arch. He could see the crumbling stone in minute detail and the black curtain moving towards him, beckoning.
The case floated in front of him. It was almost at the topmost step and he was only a step behind. He groaned with the agony of his efforts.
"His thoughts are not your thoughts," Snape hissed. "Fight him! Resist him!"
Harry tucked his head down and moved like an ox straining against the yoke. His muscles grew taut with the movement and he finally placed his foot on the step nearest the top. He could hear the people below shouting. He could hear them through his own kind of veil and yet couldn't make out the words.
"Potter, don't let him win," Snape said, leaning into him to speak into his ear. "Take the wand from my hand when you reach the top. Take it!"
Harry stood at the top directly in front of the curtain. This time he could hear distinct voices coming from behind the veil. Harry! Come to us. We are here.
"Don't be fooled by the voices. The father of lies calls to you. Don't trust what you hear." The deep voice spoke calmly to him and Harry turned slightly and then rolled his head as if to stretch the muscles in his neck. "Take the wand!"Snape hissed.
He felt his hand pried open and the wand forced into it. The gold and glass case that had held the cup had disappeared and the cup was now sitting on the stone floor before the curtain. When the wand touched his hand, he was able, for the first time, since beginning his ascent, to take a full and deep breath. The air was cold, if slightly stale.
"Take the cup in your hand and don't hesitate," Snape coached. "Throw it in."
A voice, sweet and low swirled around him as he reached for the goblet. "Harry, you face death but it is not your time to die."
He looked up, his hand suspended over the cup. The curtain moved and for a brief moment he thought he saw a figure.
His fingers wrapped around the cup and suddenly his head was filled with raw, searing energy; A force of darkness and evil and coldness shot through him and turned him cold. He screamed in agony and lifted the cup, fighting the flood of images and thoughts that ravaged his brain. "I CAN'T!" he wailed. "I'm not strong enough!"
Moments turned into eternity as he stood facing the archway with the cup in his hand. He felt the touch of the hands on his back even as the thoughts of the seventh soul that resided inside the cup thundered through his brain. Harry's only thoughts were: Snape is going to push me through the archway. He's going to kill me!
Hermione raised her hands to her face. She was screaming and crying at the same time. She turned away just as she saw Snape place his hands on Harry's shoulders.
Ron was shouting and turning as red as his hair. He was wild with fear and throwing himself at the invisible wall that stood between himself and the stairs. The wall was effectively bouncing him back.
Remus was standing stunned, still looking upwards, wand pointed but useless against the force enclosing the area. He was tight-lipped. It was clear to all that the moment he had the chance the first spell he would use would be to kill Snape.
Molly Weasley was crying and holding onto Arthur who stood with his arms around her.
Ginny sat on one of the stone benches, alone and weeping silently.
Neville seemed to be the only one who stood watching with any composure. His brow was rippled in a frown and he appeared to be concentrating. His hands were folded before him as if he were waiting.
"Harry, do it now! Throw it in," Snape crooned softly, standing behind him, instead of pushing, he was pulling him close in an embrace.
Harry pitched the cup towards the curtain which was only a footstep away. It left his hand and with it flashes of energy emanated from it as it sailed forward through the curtain and finally vanished.
Harry collapsed; two hands gently lowering him to the floor.