A Final Nightmare

Harry sat by the common room fireplace and consumed its flames, evil fought to break free, fought the goodness energy of his sole. His memories weakened under the weight of the lord's dark magic. He was almost helpless against Voldemort's attack....almost. And then the attack stopped, as mysteriously as it had begun. It was stronger now then ever. The ones before were weaker, less powerful. He knew that the next would be even stronger. He had never told anyone what was happening to him, he was afraid they would fear him like they had done in his second year at Hogwarts when the balisk had attacked the school. It was past three a.m. now, the last time it had happened he was in his potions class. The pains came, so did the dizziness, Herminone noticed something, she gave him a look of confusion or something like that, he wasn't sure what expression he had seen on her face. The first time Voldemort made these attacks on Harry's mind, he was a forth year, now he was 15, a fifth year. He barley noticed it that last time; It felt like a cold wind seeping through his body, chilling his insides. But it took only a quarter of a minute, now it took almost three. When the attacks came, he felt urges, some that he couldn't understand. But the ones that he did recognized were clear, he new them, felt them, to kill to destroy, to hate. He had felt these around his Aunt Marge; it was as if every time that woman entered the room he felt another one of those attacks. She drove him, as Voldemort did, she didn't killed his parents like he did, but she did give off a sense, an evil very much alike his, Voldemort's. Then he heard them, footsteps. Harry turned to see a boy not much younger then himself, tall, Asian but strange.......Strange? Was that how one could describe the boy? Well surly he wasn't normal. Harry didn't suspect him though, he suspected many people, he didn't trust. This boy was different; he never spoke, at least not to Harry. As far as he knew, the boy hadn't spoke to anyone since his sudden presence in Hogwarts. He came two months after school had started, and was immediately placed in Griffindor, as a first year. He had heard from Herminone, who took all the classes available to advanced students, that the boy was taking them as well, and not only that, but he was at the top in most of them, a first year, getting better grades then Herminone? She had a fit. The boy's eyes were tragic; they expressed more emotion than Harry ever believed was inside one human being. No one knew where he came from, maybe his parents had been killed as well, maybe that was why he seemed as if he was in an emotional agony all the time. As Harry watched the boy now, for several seconds before he spoke, he noticed his eyes where sad but also, they showed understanding mixed with fear and a touch of courage, only a bit of sadness about them. "White? White Sou? Harry spoke in a cracking, quite voice to the boy standing ten feet away. The boy didn't speak, still those eyes, that same exact expression, it never changed. It seemed as if Harry had never spoken, maybe he had imagined it, confused by his own voice. But he had heard him, he had to have, Harry's voice was weak from the attack, but he was as demanding as always. "Your eyes show that as of the dark lord himself, cold and merciless, your blood has been frozen by his touch, the touch of darkness. The memories of the goodness in your life fade away until your sole is dark like his is. You have a sense of your surroundings, a sharper vision of life. But you feel hate, hopelessness, despair, you want to kill, destroy the ones around you the ones you love along with the ones you hate. After time you become Voldemort himself, he has no face, he is not one man, he is all that is untrue and unjust in this world and you will become him. Your own hate will condemn you to the dark side." Then White smiled not a happy smile, but a sad understanding one, almost forgiving.... Almost. And than the boy tourned and ran, away from the fireplace, away from the chair on which Harry was sitting, and away from Harry. He had spoken to him; he hadn't spoken in thousands of years. He only spoke to himself, deep down beneath his heart in another world, one in which his life had not been cursed. He was happy there, his mind was anyway. He had mixed with another mind, understood it acknowledged it and analyzed, and it almost gave him a sense of hope, that he was not alone.... Almost. More to come soon =0 Back to Stories Back to Fan Fiction