I walk down the long stone corridor, alone. There is a plain black door at the end ā“ I know where it leads. Iāve been here before. Though, the last visit was something Iād rather forget.
The Ministry is deserted. No one dares go out to work now; I was able to come in quickly, and with confrontation.
I get to the end of the corridor, the flames of the torches on the rough walls flickering in my jade green eyes. My hand, a pale spider in the dim light, reaches out for the icy metal handle. I turn it slowly, trying not to be heard by any person who may have braved the perils of war to get to work. The door swings open with a quiet creak. I enter.
Almost immediately, the doors spin so fast that they turn into a blurred mass of dark colors and shadow. I wait until the room stops spinning. Then walk forward towards a door. I know which one to pick; I put a lot of research into it.
I open the door and walk into the Hall of Prophecy. Tall, towering shelves house dark green, glistening balls, but Iām not interested in them. I walk past all the rows, shuddering as I go past row ninety-seven. I keep going until I get right to the end of all the rows, where there is a small door in a dark corner, unnoticed by a fleeting glance. I push the door and stride in, gazing around in awe. Deep green glass balls are piled in pyramids that come up to my waist. They are blank and coated in a thick layer of dust. I pick one up from the top of a pyramid; itās surprisingly light and, unlike those in the hall, cold. I brush the dust of until I can see my reflection. I blink in shock.
Iāve changed. Iām no longer the cheeky young boy I would see in the mirrors at Hogwarts. I seem olderā¦ my face is dirty ā“ Iām always on the move and I sleep where ever I can, thereās no time to wash. Stubble is growing badly after not shaving for at least a fortnight, and thereās a nasty cut on my lip. I donāt even remember where I got it. Even in the misty green depths of the sphere, I can see that my face is pale; each cut and bruise standing out clearly.
My eyes are the most drastic change, though. They are no longer the sparkling emeralds I was known for. They are deeperā¦ darker. They donāt glint mischievously any more; they give a piercing glare, that sends shivers even down my spine, let alone a passer-byā¦ not that I see many of them. I generally stay under my invisibility cloak.
I shake my head, I canāt linger in one place too long, and this was meant to be an in out job. I close my eyes and focus, knowing that the words are forming on the prophecy and that the memory is embedding itself within the very centre of the glass.
I feel it go warm and I open my eyes. I grin in satisfaction and take the record back into the vast hall. I look for an empty spot on a shelf and find one on row one-hundred-and-two. I place it on the shelf, smile at the words etched on it, then walk away, happy that I have hope.
Harry Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle
S.T to H.J.P
I leave the Hall of Prophecy, quickly and quietly. Iām back in the spinning room and, once the doors had become still, I move forward to the exit. But the door on the right catches my eye. I think I hear something moving in there, but I canāt be sure.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I shuffle cautiously forward and reach out to the handle of the ebony black door. Itās icy, and gives me goose bumps on the back of my neck. My wand raised high; I open the door and step in.
The door slams shut behind me and I turn, frantically pulling on the handle trying to get back out. Nothing works, not even spells.
I canāt see anything, its pitch black and freezing ā“ my hands are numb already. I walk forward and it hit me. That feeling of utter hopelessness and despair. I sink to my knees and know that itās no use. Even with this new Prophecy, Iāll never win. Iāll never beat him. He will always be there, hunting me, chasing me. Iām going to die, the room is telling me. Thereās no where left to run and hide, thereās no one left to protect me. Dumbledore couldnāt survive, how is a seventeen-year-old wizard going to manage? Thereās no point.
Vaguely, I think about staying in here, in this room, instead of going out and facing the war again. The room has a strange, horrible feeling to it. I feel so trapped ā“ itās so tight and enclosed, and Iām sure that itās the room thatās brought on this sudden spout of depression. I desperately want to get out, but something keeps me there. Something stops my legs from responding, stops me from turning my head back towards the closed door. As I struggle internally to rise and get out of the dark room, I feel panic wash over me in a gigantic tsunami like wave. My breathing quickens, I can feel my pulse race, I canāt stop shaking, though that could be because of the perishing cold.
I can feel tears well up in my eyes, but I wonāt let them fall ā“ I like to think that Iām stronger than that, even though I know perfectly well that Iām not. I desperately strain my eyes, trying to see anything, any bead of light, but I might as well be wearing a blindfold.
And then, I hear it again. The noise I thought I heard back in the spinning room (It seems so long ago now!). A quiet rustling, like a whisper, or the wind through leaves of a tree. Itās coming from my leftā¦
āW-whoās there?ā I ask to the black emptiness, my teeth chattering. Iām shivering violently now, and my face feels like cold steel. The room is silent for a moment, then I hear it again.
āHell-lo? Whoās t-there?ā I can definitely feel fear and panic now ā“ I should never have come in this room! Why do I always have to meddle!? This was supposed to be an in-out job, not an exploration of the Department of Mysteries!
Thereās still the rustling noise, but itās becoming louder, like itās moving towards meā¦
āWhoās there?ā I cry out frantically, my eyes darting about, even thought I can see nothing. Suddenly, a pale hand reaches out from the darkness and grabs my shoulder.
I yell and fall backwards, still feeling bitter cold hands grabbing me. I scramble up and head for the door, which, miraculously, opens, causing a burst of welcome light to meet my eyes. I hurry out of the room, and turn when Iād get out; making sure nothing is following me. The room is still black. I step forward to shut the door, but it swings closed with a dull thunk.
Iām so eager to get out of the Department of Mysteries, that I donāt really pay attention to which door I go through next. I step through it, expecting to find myself in the long stone corridor, only to discover that Iām actuallyā¦ on the ceiling.
āWhat in Merlins nameā¦?ā I mutter, holding my head, as though worried it will fall off. Whatās weird is that the blood doesnāt rush to my head, nor do I fall. Will I fall if I move my feet, though? High above my head is a room, with a similar layout to the Wizengamot Court ā“ rows of benches, a dock, some scary looking chairsā¦ and a door. I decide to aim for that one, because Iāve heard that exiting through the door you came doesnāt always work in the Department of Mysteriesā¦
Iām still nervous about moving my feet, though. In my heart, I know that I wonāt fall, because I would have done so already, but itās not natural to walk upside down, as my brain keeps screaming at me. Shaking badly, with my eyes screwed shut; I take the plunge and raise my right foot slowly, placing it hesitantly in front of me. I open my eyes. Iām still on the ceiling, only one step closer to the door.
I steadily creep my way across the room, still scared stiff at the thought of falling upwards to the hard benches on the floor. After a while, I find myself at the wall, the next door some ten foot above my head. I chew on my lip, frowning. I look around, and then decide what to do. I place my trainer clad foot on the room border and push myself up, desperately clinging to smooth, white walls. I edge along the wooden border until Iām directly under some benches. Then, I jump, my hands clawing the air, reaching out, trying to grab a bench. I manage it. Iām now doing an awkward handstand over a bench, yet being pulled up towards the ceiling.
I sort ofā¦ swing, from bench to bench, climbing nearer and nearer to the floor and the next door, like Iām on monkey bars. I finally reach it and stretch my hand out towards the handle. Itās not easy. Iām now holding onto the bench with only one hand, whilst the other desperately fumbles with the iron door handle. I can feel my hand beginning to lose itās grip with the bench, I know full well that if I let go, I will plummet back down to the ceiling, forcing me to go through the entire thing again. Finally, my hand manages to turn the heavy iron handle It emits a high pitched screech, it obviously hasnāt been used in a long timeā¦ that canāt be good. Still, Iām not making my way across that room again; Iāll just have to find a different route to the spinning room. The door swings open and I hoist myself into the next room, feeling very satisfied.
The room Iāve just entered is plain. Thereās nothing in it. T has four grey stone walls, and a dusty stone floor. I shut the door behind me, still worrying about the things that were grabbing hold of me.
To my horror, the moment I shut the door, it changes into a rough stone wall. I hear a quiet rumbling sound, but I pay no attention to it ā“ Iām still desperately trying to find the door. I give up and spin round, hoping thereās another door somewhere else.
All four walls are moving in towards the centre. I feel fear rise from the pit of my stomach as I desperately try and push back against the walls, but theyāre still coming.
So, was this how I was meant to die? Crushed between stone? What about the Prophecy? I wasnāt meant to die now! Why did the Department of Mysteries even have a room like this?
āTo keep nosy little boys, like you, out of it.ā I turn my head so fast I swear I hear it click. Where the door had just been, is a little girl.
She looks about four, with dark blonde hair tied back into a French plait. She is wearing a red dress, and snowy white tights.
āWho are you?ā I ask in alarm.
āYouāre not doing it right, Harry; you have to find out what the walls want.ā
āWhat do you mean what the walls want? Theyāre walls for- how did you know my-?ā
āEverything here wants something ā“ I know what they want!ā She adds in a sing-song voice.
āThen why donāt you just tell me?ā I yell at her hysterically; the walls are only four meters apart now, and still closing in.
āYou have to do it yourself,ā she says, smiling happily. She skips away from me back through the wall where the door had been. She just goes straight through it, she didnāt do anything. Could it work like the barrier between platforms nine and ten? I run towards it with my eyes clamped shut. Instead of going straight through, however, I just run straight into the wall with a painful thunk. I think I may have broken my nose.
The walls are barely three meters apart now.
āWhat do you want!?ā I scream at them frantically. Do they want blood? Is it like the entrance way to that cave Dumbledore and I went to? I lift a hand to my nose, which is bleeding quite badly and wipe some of the blood on my hands. I then smear it on one of the walls, which is still moving towards me.
Thereās a quiet rumbling, and then, they stop. I grin with glee as another door appears, on the opposite side of the room. I quickly heal my nose, and then walk towards it, hoping that this time; it will lead back to the spinning room.
I stride through the door; I think Iām probably getting a bit cocky. The image of the girl still haunts my mind, but I decide to cast it aside and turn to other, more important matters. Like, getting out of here.
In the middle of the room, is a large, squashy leather armchair. It looks so comfortable and invitingā¦ I chew on my lip nervously. The next door is just ahead, but my feet are aching so badlyā¦ if the chairās not meant to be sat on, then why is it here? A little nagging voice in my head tells me not to be stupid, the door could disappear when I sit on the chair, like it did in the last room, but I ignore it, stubbornly. I sit on the chair lightly and, when the door remains the same, breathe a sigh of relief as I sink back and close my eyes. It feels so goodā¦ all panic and fear just seems to leave meā¦ it is so peacefulā¦ I could sit here foreverā¦
Somewhere in the back of my mind I tell myself to get up, and carry on ā“ I have to get out of here before the Ministry realises some one has broken in. Butā¦ maybe a couple of minutes longer. I open my eyes and look at my watch, realising with horror that half an hour has passed since I sat down. Surely it canāt have been that long! Itās been, what, two minutes? Maybe my watch is broken. My feet donāt ache anymore, but I still feel the need to rest for a bit. I canāt have been sitting here that long, my watch is definitely fast.
Whatās the rush, anyway? There are hardly any workers aroundā¦ they wonāt realise that Iām here. I grin, lazily, thinking about long-gone memoryās, most involving the Burrow. I glance back at my watch and laugh when I see how broken it is. It says that Iāve been here three hours.
āHarry!ā a sing-song voice calls. Itās the little girl again standing right in front of me.
āWho are you?ā I ask again, but she doesnāt answer me.
āYou going to be here forever unless you move!ā she giggles, playing with the hem of her red dress.
āCouple more minutes. Iāll be up soon,ā I reply, sleepily. My eyelids are beginning to become heavy, like theyāve got weights tied to them. It would be so nice just to have a small napā¦ just a little kipā¦
āNo, silly!ā She cries, still laughing, āyouāve been here for hours! Get up, there are Ministry people coming!ā This makes my drooping eyelids snap open. If the Ministry finds meā¦ I have a thousand Galleon price on my headā¦ plus, the Weasleyās would kill meā¦ but it is very comfortable in this chairā¦
I know I have to get up, though. I watch as the little girl skips through the next door, without opening it. I groan heavily. My arms feeling like lead, I push my self out of the chair. The moment Iāve taken two steps away from it, all the fear, panic and adrenaline comes rushing back and I realise that the chair must have been enchanted. I feel very foolish and gullible. I shuffle out of the room, feeling rather guilty.
I go through the door and find myself in the room with the veil. I blink. That must mean the exit is near, mustnāt it? But, thereās something weird about itā¦
Iām not indoors. The sky is a glorious orange sunset, with pale pink clouds floating lazily by. Iām in an eerie sort of amphitheatreā¦ almost like a gladiator ringā¦ itās crumbling, and the detail on it has faded ā“ weathered away. Around the edge are dark shadows, whispering softly. Instinctively, I clutch the leather pouch around my neck; the pouch I know contains a lock of Ginnyās hair. It gives me comfort when I need it most.
The sandy floor is covered in burnt wood and old weaponry. Broken wands lie around as well. I feel my self shivering. One of the shadows steps forward slightly, but remains a shadow.
Donāt worry, Harry. The whispering voice is familiarā¦ Iāve heard it before; a long time ago. Itās a womanā¦
āHow do I get out?ā I ask hesitantly. The voice sounds so friendly, kind and caring, that I canāt help but trust it.
Go through the veil, the voice echoes in my head; itās creepy, but oddly comforting at the same time. It will lead you back to the Ministry. Unless you want to stay. Please donātā¦ itās not your time to come here. Go through the veil. Itās not your time. We know that. We will protect you.
āWhere am I?ā
Go through, Harry. Go through now.
āI canāt ā“ itāll kill me!ā
Trust me. Go through ā“ no harm will come of you. Ignore your fear. Ignore my fear? What the hell did that mean? I walked forward to the veil, and as I did so, a cloaked and hooded man stumbled out from behind it. There was no mistaking those evil red eyes. It was Voldemort. I went deathly pale and drew out my wand, my hand shaking violently. Voldemort advanced, stretching out a long, pale hand. He didnāt have a wand, but he was still dangerous. I dropped my wand out of fear, and slipped on a piece of burnt, blackened wood.
Ignore him, Harry! Heās not there! Ignore him? Iād be dead within seconds. I heard a familiar, beautiful song from above and behind me. I whipped my head around to see Fawkes soaring towards me, a scroll clutched in his claws.
Catch it Harry, then run! Run straight through!ā Fawkes dropped the scroll, and it fell towards me at an angle. I could see Voldemort reaching towards it as well, but there was an unusual look in his pitiless eyesā¦ was it fear? Determined, I reached out for it too, still lying on the ground, but stretching out for it nonetheless.
The warm parchment fell into my calloused hand and, without looking back, I raced through the veil.
I burst through the veil and run towards the door, refusing to look back in case Voldemort is after me. In my heart, I know that he wasnāt, that the woman was right, it was just my fear. But when adrenaline and panic floods through you like that, you canāt help but run. The parchment is still in my hand, and is pleasantly warm, like itās been sitting in the sun for hours. I clutch it tightly, not quite knowing why I think itās so important.
I burst through the door, but itās not the spinning room. I realise that Iām floating above my body. Did Voldemort kill me? Am I a ghost? No, I can see my body down below me. My eyes are shut, and my head hangs onto my chest, limp, but Iām standing. Iām obviously in some sort of out of body experience.
Iām sure that there was a spell for thisā¦ I learnt it in Charms in fourth yearā¦ what was it? I frown in confusion and frustration. I feel that I might as well try and get back down to my body, but thereās some sort of barrier in the way. I canāt get within two foot of it. Now I really need that spell. I hear a quiet giggling to my left, and there, sure enough, is the little girl, floating along lazily, though thereās no sign of her body.
āOpen your letter, then! Your daddy spent ages writing that when you were little; I watched him!ā My mind has gone blank with shockā¦ could she really meanā¦? Iām still holding the parchment in my handā¦ but in my hand thatās attached to the body still on the ground.
I float around the ceiling and explore the walls, my head pounding. If I can just get that spell, I can read a letter from my Dadā¦
I donāt know what Iām looking for ā“ a clue, maybe? Do blank walls within labyrinths usually tell someone how to get out?
Iām so frustrated now. I want nothing better than to sit and read that letter. Was that where I was in the veil? The land of the dead? Merlin, I hope not.
Isnāt heaven meant to be fields and fields of lush green grass, beyond sparkling oceans and pure white shores? Isnāt it meant to be the most wonderful and peaceful place, where you can rest? Thatās what your told, when someone dies. That theyāve gone there.
Something clicks in my mind. In the most wonderful feeling of ecstasy, the spell comes to be in a glorious wave of inspiration. I non-verbally cast the charm, and fall to the earth with a slump.
I walk over to my zombie-like body and, rather un-sure, I step into it and open my eyes. My hand shaking, I unroll the parchment. I know immediately that itās my dadās handwriting, even though Iāve never seen it before. Itās exactly like my own.
To my dear son,
Iām writing this while you are asleep in the hospital wing after Voldemortās resurrection. One day, maybe youāll get this letter ā“ and it wonāt be when your dead, it will be in your hour of uttermost need.
Your mother and I can slip between the two worlds, letting us watch over you, constantly. Thereās always one of us at your side, most of the time the two of us.
Itās hard, sometimes; watching you without being able to comfort you, or hold you. But we are so proud of what youāve achieved already, at fourteen, and we know the perils you must face in later life. Know that we are there every step of the way, to guide you, even if you canāt hear our voices.
You have an amazing ability to love, and I may sound like Dumbledore ā“ I know youāve heard all this before, but it was that which saved you on that Halloween night, and it will be that which saves you time and time again.
Most of all, we love you. And we miss you every single second of every single day. Thereās not one moment that passes by without me regretting trusting Pettigrew. There also not one moment that passes with out me feeling amazed at how strong you can be.
Youāre still a child, Harry. Donāt forget it. Donāt make the typical Potter mistake of casting aside the ones you love. We never cast you aside, and we know that, were we still with you, you would never have cast us aside.
Live life to the full. Die old and surrounded by your family in your bed. War is not for children, but I know your part in it. But, donāt let it control your life.
Until we meet,
Dad.
My eyes watering uncontrollably, I fold up the parchment and slip it into the leather pouch around my neck. Comforted by the thought that Iām not alone here, I move on towards the next door. I open it, and Iām immediately soaked.
I seem to have stepped into a deep clear pool of water, which stretches to each wall, with no ledge to walk on. Opposite me is the next, plain black door, except this one has a large, silver lock on. Next to the door is a rusty looking keg hanging on a wonky, and equally rusty, nail. I look down through the water. About six foot underneath me is another key, lying innocently on the pale, submerged, cobblestones. There are none on the other walls, but as I look up towards the ceiling, I see another key hanging on a thin rope. Itās about ten foot above me. I know immediately that itās going to be that one.
I take out my wand from my back pocket (Moody would kill me if he was here) and try to summon it. Nothing happens. I try levitating it of the hook it hangs on, but thatās a no go as well.
āAccio!ā Again nothing happens. I let out a growl of frustration ā“ how on earth am I meant to get it? I fruitlessly search the walls and the pool floor for any sign of a lift, ladder stairs or even a pulley of some sort, but it just seems to be a plain roomā¦ filled with water. Iām not a strong swimmer. I wonāt last long treading water. Soon Iāll get tired and thenā¦
āOh, come on!ā I yell at no one in particular ā“ maybe at the room? Or at the Department? Probably at myself. āIāve made it this far, whatās the point in letting me get stuck here?! Give me the ruddy key!ā I think this was what the room was waiting for. The rope seems to unravel slightly, so that the key is only hanging by a thread. It swings slowly, the remaining thread twisting around.
āPlease?ā I try. That does it. The key plummets from the ceiling and lands in the clear water with a plop. I dive down quickly and catch it before it hits the bottom. I swim to the door and stand on the tiny ledge, just big enough for one person to stand on, to unlock the door. It swings open, and I move forward to the next room, rather pleased with myself.
I shuffle into the next room, still soaked through. I canāt be bothered to cast a drying spell though; I just want to get out of here.
I seem to be in a stone enclosure of some sort. Thereās something silvery chained in front of the next door. I realise that itās my Patronus, a large, proud stag. Only, it looks more aggressive than it usually is. Itās pounding its hooves and snorting viciously. The stag bows its head and waves itās antlers at me, stabbing and slicing the air before it.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, chewing my lip, trying to think how Iām meant to get past it without being gored by its antlers. As I do, my foot nudges something heavy and cold which clinks quietly. I glance down, and see another chain.
āSo,ā I say to myself, āIāve got to duel it, so that it becomes attached to this chain, instead of that one?ā Rather pleased at how quickly I figured it out, I step forward and, with a quick blasting spell, I release the stag from the chain. It charges right at me, its hooves clattering against the hard stone, its piercing eyes flashing with anger.
I jump to the side and shoot a stunner at it. But the stream of red life simply passes through and the stag turns sharply towards me again.
This continues for quite some time; I try nearly every spell I can think of, but none make a difference.
Then, it comes to me. Fight fire with fire, isnāt that the saying? I smile and raise my wand.
āExpecto Patronum!ā Another stag bursts from my wand tip and springs immediately into action, locking antlers with the attacking stag. I seize the moment and grab the trailing chain of the original stag. I hold it together with the chain by the door I fist came through, and cast reparo over it. The two chains join together, and Iām able to go through the next door.
I step forward into the next room. The next door is opposite ā“ I must be near the end now!
A ghostly music begins to play. I wrinkle my nose in distaste; it sounds like an old, classical sort of piece. I feel my feet begin to move. I look down and, with horror, I realise that Iām no longer wearing my dark black trainers (after the nose-stamping incident, I donāt really like bright colors. I prefer to slink in and out of the shadows), but some shiny black dancing shoes. My feet move of their own accord, I seem to be waltzing across the room.
I can dance in a normal situation, but I feel especially stupid now. Iām flopping about from side to side, trying to keep my balance, whilst trying to keep control of my legs. Itās not working.
I can feel a blush creeping up my neck onto my cheeks, even though no oneās there to see me. Right? Wrong. I hear a high-pitched giggle from my left. I turn my head, still trying to control my feet, and see the young ghostly girl practically rolling about on the floor, clutching her stomach. Iām sure itās not that funny.
āYou look so funny!ā she howls, glee written all over her face.
āHa ha,ā I say sarcastically, getting very irritated now, ājust tell me how to stop it!ā She rolls her electric blue eyes, as if itās the most obvious thing in the world.
āJust take off the shoes, silly!ā I feel my face burn as I take off the shoes, with some difficulty and step out of them. They continue to waltz across the room, and Iām left standing here feeling incredibly stupid, back in my dark trainers.
I walk into the next room. The tall walls are dark and shimmer, like mirrors. I frown, and step towards one to investigate. In it, I see my family, just like I did in the mirror of Erised. I see my parents and loads of people I donāt know, but are obviously grandparents and such, and also old, dead friends. Sirius is there, and Dumbledore. And many old classmates.
Theyāre all smiling at me, joyously. They run forward, straight through the glass and embrace me in many hugs and kisses and claps on the back.
āHarry!ā
āItās good to see you mate!ā
āWeāve missed you so much!ā
I can feel tears rolling down my cheeks, but I canāt help grinning. Theyāre here; theyāre really here! I see Sirius eagerly approach me.
āAlright, mate? Howās everyone?ā Before I can answer, I can feel my mumās hand on my shoulder.
āOh, baby, Iāve missed you! Youāve no idea!ā I feel so overwhelmed, and strangely numb. This scene passes for a good few minutes, before I notice something odd. I canāt hold up a conversation with any of them. Once Iāve said a couple of sentences, another loved one interrupts. None of them seem quite right, either. Theyāre personalities and looks are the same as I always remember, but thereās somethingā¦ off. Thereās no depth to their charactersā¦
āI haveā¦ I have to go.ā It tears me up to say it, but itās true ā“ if I donāt go now, someone could realise that Iām here.
āOh, no, son, stay a bit longer,ā says my Dad, grinning broadly. I so desperately want to stay, but I really do have to goā¦ soon. I can stay a bit longer, thoughā¦
āI donāt knowā¦ Iām in a lot of danger hereā¦ā I say. Dean Thomas, who died only a couple of weeks ago, laughs.
āDonāt be thick, mate!ā
āCome on, Harry, stay a bit longer.ā I blink at Dumbledoreās words. Heād never say that. Suddenly, it dawns on me, and everything makes perfect sense.
āDad,ā I say, my voice breaking slightly, āthank you for that letter.ā He makes no acknowledgement of what Iāve said, but starts gushing about how much heās missed me. My thoughts have just been verified. Theyāre not real. Dumbledore would never allow me to be in danger, and my Dad would have said something about the letter. Theyāre just dreams, memories, wishes.
āIām sorryā¦ I have to go,ā I mutter reluctantly, tears cascading down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
āHarry! You canāt leave us again!ā
āYou canāt just forget about us!ā Looking down at the floor, my hands shaking, my heart feeling like its being ripped in two, I walk away from them all.
I enter the next room, wiping the salty droplets from my eyes. Itās bare except for three doors, including the one I just came through. Between the other two doors, thereās the small, ghostly girl thatās been following me around.
āThis is the last room,ā she says. Sheās not smiling.
āWhich way is the way out?ā I ask, huskily, my throat still raw from crying.
āYou need to think about why youāre here first.ā I look at her in confusion.
āIām here because I stupidly went to explore another room.ā She shakes her head.
āNo youāre not. Youāre here because I called you.ā I frown.
āWho are you?ā She smiles, but itās a sad smile.
āIām what could have been, if Peter hadnāt told Voldemort.ā
āWhat?ā Iām really confused now, my head hurts. She giggles. It echoes eerily around the room.
āMummy always wanted a big family! But thatās not important. This was a test. This isnāt really the Department of Mysteries; itās all been in your head. In fact, this entire journey has only taken you ten seconds.ā The little girl seems to be growing up, she looks about ten now.
āHow dāyou mean? Why? What the hell is going on?ā I ask frantically; this is seriously creeping me out.
āThat Prophecy you just recorded said that youād only be able to defeat him āonce there is no doubt upon the strength of your mind and spiritā , so thatās what we done, we made sure that there was no doubt in your mind.ā She looks nearly fourteen now, and everything is beginning to make sense. āIf you still have doubt, go through the door on my left. But I wonāt be able to help you anymore. If you have confidence in yourself, then you can leave through the door on my right. But hurry, I donāt have much time left. Once Iām adult, youāll be trapped.ā
I guess Iād better hurry ā“ she looks sixteen. I think Iām ready. I think I can go on. Now that I know that my loved ones are right behind me. I nod, and move towards the door on the right. The girl smiles. I open the door.
Through it, thereās a black abyss, and a strong wind seems to be trying to pull me through the door, howling violently around my ears.
āI canāt walk through that!ā I roar above the unnatural gale. The girl laughs, her voice soft, yet loud, as if itās simply been magnified.
āYouāll have to jump ā“ youāve got a strong enough mind, havenāt you? Go on, big brother, jump!ā Before I even register what sheās said, I feel her icy hand on my back, pushing me into the howling black.
My eyes snap open. Iām standing in the room with the spinning doors. Iām panting heavily. I glance at my watch. The second hand has only moved ten seconds. I clutch at the leather pouch around my neck, and hear the crinkle of parchment.
āSo, it wasnāt a dream,ā I say to myself. Iām shaking, and I know that Iām deathly pale. I let out a long, slow exhalation of air. Then grin, and stride through the exit, back to the world above.
A Labyrinth of the Mind by dumbledorefluertwins
Chapter Notes: Thank you to my beta! Reviews would be lovely, even if they're horrible!