You’re feeling blue now
I think you bit off more than you could chew
And now it’s time to make a choice
When all I want to hear is your voice...
Chapter Two: Confused Despondency
Harry’s eyes fluttered open only to be greeted by sunlight flooding in through the window to his left. He lay there, on the softly carpeted floor, staring up at the ceiling trying to place his surroundings. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t.
What he did know was that he had been in the Room of Requirement the night before, but now? He had no clue. He furrowed his brow and sat up from the carpeted floor and looked around. The room was blue like the shade of the sky around midday and posters of Puddlemere’s Quidditch team lined the wall. These posters dated back from the early 1970’s to the present.
He looked at the bed that was made perfectly due probably to the fact that he hadn’t slept on it at all during the night. The sheets were of a blue checked print and the pillowcases were white except for the blue checked print around their boarder. He rubbed his forehead slightly in frustration as he turned to look at a small desk that was very mod accompanied with a chair to match. On the desk and on the bookshelf to its left were books of mostly Defense and Quidditch stuff with the occasional Transfiguration book on Animagi thrown into the mix. There was a muggle stereo system hooked to the wall that was definitely hung up with magic and no doubt had to be run on magic if this was indeed a wizarding house. He smiled despite himself as he thought of Hermione and her endless rants about how they should read “Hogwarts a History.”
He sighed to himself and turned to the window with white trim on his left and started to walk towards it. He looked outside to see the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. He noticed instantly the Quidditch Pitch in the background and a small forest in the distance. Had he known where he was he would have been thrilled to find all of these things in this room and outside. But he wasn’t. He furrowed his brow once more and began to think as hard as he could about the previous night. His mind switched instantly to the empty room with the tattered green wallpaper, then to the mirror and Sirius. Harry frowned at the beautiful sight that lay before him without really seeing it and he suddenly hated the happy decor that surrounded him.
He fought back the tears that had plagued him since the end of last term and cursed himself for it. He hated crying, yet, that seemed to be the only thing he was able to do anymore. He sighed and walked over to the bed and let himself fall backwards on it in despair. The room of requirement gets someone what they need. Harry thought. Well, what he needed was Sirius. This room was full of Quidditch, not to mention on a Quidditch team he knew nothing about having only ever been to one real Quidditch Game; the World Cup. So why would the room change to Quidditch?
It wouldn’t, he found himself thinking. He laid there for a very long time staring up at the white ceiling that had little stars stuck up on it. He sighed, lost in thought, and then he heard it. A low bark-like laughter filtered through the door up to his ears coming from somewhere outside the room. He sat bolt upright and wiped away whatever tears remained from his stained cheeks. He stared at the door, not daring to move, in disbelief until he heard it again. Before he really even knew what he was doing he found himself on his feet reaching for the doorknob. He turned it slowly until it opened with a soft click. He looked out into the hallway only to find that it wasn’t Hogwarts. He let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. He stood there and looked down the hall and noticed instantly that the walls were white and had paintings hanging every so often all the way down it and the floor was a dark hardwood. He followed it a short way until he reached the staircase that was hooked to a loft that over looked the living room below it.
Harry didn’t know what to believe as he heard the laughter again, this time it was mingled with other voices he couldn’t place. He started to climb down the staircase as a thought occurred to him, this was probably Malfoy’s doing. A clever way for the albino rat faced boy to get back at him for getting his father put in Azkaban. He suddenly felt his stomach turn to rock as he made his way to the bottom of the staircase and heard Sirius’ voice carry over to his ears. He heard another man talk in return and he felt his stomach churn out of its rocklike state. It was followed by even more laughter and when it met Harry’s ears he felt them turn red with anger. This was a cruel joke even for Malfoy. Why would someone do this to him? Didn’t they already know that he had enough to deal with? Or was it just too much to resist taunting him with the death of the one person he ever really cared about?
Despite himself he found himself walking towards the door that he knew held the voices, or more wisely, whoever was making the voices. He bit his lip slightly as even more laughter followed this time carrying a female voice. He stared at the door he’d lead himself to and felt a combination of hatred, curiosity, and hope. He wanted this room to hold Sirius. He wanted to open it and see who the other people were. Yet, at the same time his logical half, which he blamed entirely on Hermione, was screaming that it was a trick.
He took a deep intake of breath and reached for the handle. He could hear what they were saying now but at the same time he couldn’t. It was more like tones, or singing, only it wasn’t. Perhaps, it was because of the growing hope in his heart and the building up to the inevitable let down which would lead to him having to pound whoever was really behind the door, playing this trick on him, was hiding. He knew deep in his wounded heart that he still didn’t want to find Malfoy with that infamous smirk of his, gleaming content, so instead he stood there for a while prolonging the moment just listening to the tone of Sirius’ voice, just simply wanting to hear it. If he could have had nothing more he would be happy again. Finally, he sighed after one more round of laughter filtered through the door he pushed it open ready to smash Malfoy’s face into the stone floor.