Chapter 19 “ Motivation
It was just past midnight. He wasn’t sure of the exact time, but he knew it didn’t matter. The house was dead silent. Not even the sound of breathing penetrated his ears. He kicked his feet out of bed and put on a robe. It was a crisp, cool night, with not a single star in the sky, and no moon. He found his socks, which he slipped on his ice cold feet, and put on his glasses. The freezing metal frame sent a shiver down his spine as he placed it against the side of his head. Without making a sound, he opened the door and left the room.
Harry slowly descended the creaky wooden stairs of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The maroon carpet running down the stairs with him prevented most of the noise that would have him caught. He slid his hand along the dusty banister and removed it with disgust. He arrived at the main floor landing and automatically turned to his left. He was walking steadily down the pitch-black hall. Behind a blood-red velvet curtain was a heavy stone door, which he pushed determinedly open.
He found himself in a room darker than the hall he had just left. He shut the door and illuminated his wand tip. When he did, he was startled to find bodies covering the floor. He knew that none of them had a pulse. They were everywhere. He tried to maneuver through the rows of corpses to an unknown destination, but he found that there was no way out. Arms obscured his path, and he was having trouble not looking into their cold, lifeless eyes. His heart rate quickened.
A golden light erupted suddenly “ blindingly “ from a spot way in the distance, and the scene’s horror was revealed. The room was massive, spreading for miles and miles, a sea of dead bodies, never-ending, unmerciful. He tried to move towards the light’s source but was drowning. He used the corpses as a ladder and started to climb to the top. He gave them unreturned pleading looks as if to say, “I’m sorry.”
Tears were streaming down his pale face now. His heavy robe was dripping with exasperated sweat and the blood of others.
“It’s not mine!” he cried, wiping the tears viciously from his lonely eyes. “It’s not my fault!”
The light was dimming with every slip of his foot. He was becoming increasingly anxious, and he wanted more than anything to get out “ alive. He wished it were over; he wished he had never left his room. His breathing became shallow and rapid, and the impure air was gradually filling his screaming lungs, which outwardly protested the deed. He gripped, grabbed, scratched and pulled his way towards the surface, from where he would find the light, but the darkness was swallowing him up. He was so close, he knew, but why wasn’t the mysterious light any nearer? Was this some horrid mind game he had to face to reach a glorious goal?
His foot slipped, and he tumbled into the mass of human flesh and bones. His chest tightened, and the tears choked his shallow breath.
“Leave me alone!” he whispered desperately as the bodies jostled him on his way down to an unknown abyss.
He gave up all hope. It was too hard, and it wasn’t his battle. His own tired body slipped unceremoniously through the others. It was exhausted. The struggle had drained him of all energy. What was the point of this death trap? The bodies continued to pour and tumble on top of him. There was no escape. The light in the distance was extinguished.
Harry lay there, propped up by the bloody and disfigured limbs of the innocent victims. He had no idea why he knew they were innocent, but he knew it was true.
He sighed. The silence was deafening.
He thought that he should just return home and let this continue. It wasn’t his problem. Who made him a part of it?
Just as he thought this, Harry thought he saw a familiar face. It was a few corpses up, and he tried to find his way up to it. His heart stopped and his body froze in unpleasant recognition. He looked around pointedly, and there… there was the other. Without much searching, he found the third and final corpse of the Watvey family. No tears came. Blood matted the little girl’s pigtails, and it was smeared all over her pale and dreary pink dress, but no tears came, only a burning desire to do something.
The golden light burst through the cracks in the dense sea, and the pile no longer seemed insurmountable. His path began to clear, and the source of the light “ the hope “ seemed so much closer.
His path was clear. He ran. Miles and miles continued, but he ran. He stumbled and fell to the ground several times but jumped back to his feet and continued on his way. No one ever said it would be easy. He knew it had to be done, and if it were not, the sea of bodies would swallow him up again. The image of the Watvey family shone in his mind. He hadn’t known them, but they were the push off the cliff that he needed to fly.
There it was! It wasn’t too far! He pushed his wailing legs towards sweet victory, sweet peace. The end was near. What it would bring, he didn’t know. The light was coming from a covered object sitting on a carved wood table. He couldn’t tell what it was under the delicate glass. He had to shield his eyes from the glorious warmth and brightness. One hundred meters away… Seventy… Fifty…Twenty… It was a cup. Helga Hufflepuff’s fine china, hand-painted cup. He didn’t stop running. He couldn’t.
Then he awoke. Dripping in sweat and grinning, Harry awoke - wrapped tightly in the sheets of his Grimmauld Place bed - filled with determination and motivation.
Harry Potter and the Seventh Search by snufflesismyidol
Chapter Notes: Chapter 19 will be a bit confusing until the end, but I hope you all like it. Chapter 20 is still in the writing process, so bear with me, because it won't be posted for a while.