Chapter 33: Nothing But Fear Itself
His mouth tasted bitter, harsh, soot from Floo Powder; eyes closed to keep it out of his eyes. He coughed, trying to speak but finding it increasingly difficult.
"D… Diagonally…!" He coughed out, desperately hoping that he would pronounce it correctly.
Soon, the fireplace erupted in green flames as he found himself swept away in them, as if he were being sucked down a toilet of flames. As he was swept away by the flames, he coughed from the soot as he tried to hold his breath, afraid to take a breath while surrounded by the green flames. Before he knew it, he found himself spat out of another fireplace, covered in soot and grime. As he was sent flying out of the fireplace, he crashed into something in his new location, nearly toppling a towering pile of junk.
Getting up, he coughed as he tried to wipe soot from his eyes. Soon, he looked around at his location to get a feel for where he was. It was unlike any store he had ever seen in Diagon Alley. It was… darker. Dirtier. Much gloomier and creepier than any wizarding world store he had ever been in.
Dotting the walls and various shelves were sinister looking objects. Jars containing strange, viscous materials that had been used to pickle body parts. Ominous feeling books bound in black leather covers. Even a dried-up severed hand, of all things. The more he looked around, the more unsettled he became. This place was… far from the kind of welcoming place of magic he was used to. It was clearly dark, creepy, even downright evil.
"Why… Why am I here? I said Diagon Alley," he muttered to himself, till he felt a cold shiver up his spine.
Looking around, he found himself drawn to the severed hand. Reaching out, he gently grasped it. As soon as he touched it, he found it gripping tight on his hand and pinning it down. Crying out in shock and fear, he tried desperately to pry his hand free. However, the severed hand had a strong grip. So strong that he could not immediately break it.
Soon, he heard the sound of a bell jingling at the door as someone entered the shop. Scrambling desperately, he managed to pry his hand free and made a mad dash to find somewhere to hide. Running through the shop as stealthily as he could, he eventually came across a strange, ominous-looking cabinet. Seeing nowhere else to hide, he dashed inside and shut the door as quietly as he could, leaving it open just a crack so that he could see out into the room. However, strangely, all he could see was darkness.
Slowly, he opened the door and walked back into the room. To his shock, he now found himself back in the Burrow. Confused, he looked around at his surroundings. However, what confused him more was the lack of hustle and bustle usually seen and heard at the Weasley's home. It was somehow… colder. Sadder. More solemn and melancholy.
Slowly, he walked out into the living room only to find himself outside, on the grounds of Hogwarts. Looking around in confusion, he heard a crash and the groaning sound of metal splintering wood. Looking up in shock, he saw the car of the Weasley household crash into the ominous form of a massive tree. Soon, the trees began to move and slammed into the car. The sound of glass shattering and metal bending and groaning under the barrage of slamming tree branches. He realized that this tree was the Whomping Willow… and that was them having crashed into it.
"This… this isn't right. None of this is right," Harry said to himself, his head swimming as he looked around frantically.
Seeing no other safe way out, he dashed back through the door and into the darkness, slamming the door shut behind him. Panting, he turned to look as a new scene came into view. However, instead of back at the Burrow, he now found himself in a graveyard. Nervously, he began walking through the graveyard as a strong gust of wind swept over him. Looking back, he saw that the door had disappeared, leaving only a gaping void of darkness in its wake. Gulping, he turned and began walking deeper into the graveyard.
Soon, snow began to fall as the graveyard began to grow colder. Carefully, Harry made his way through the densely growing snow. Soon, over the howl of the wind, he began hearing sounds. Human voices, people crying. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as a cold hand of fear gripped his heart. He should stop. He should not keep going. Something… Something was very wrong here…
"Why are you hiding, Potter?" A voice snarled at him, echoing over the howling winds.
With a jolt, Harry turned to look in the direction of the voice. To his shock, he saw an enraged Percy Weasley. His face twisted in a scowl of disapproving hatred. Raising his hand, he pointed in the direction of the crying voices.
"This is your fault, after all. Now face what you've done with your own eyes…" Percy growled at him.
The knot in his stomach pulled tighter, the cold hand gripping his heart, making it harder to breathe. Turning, he looked and saw something that made his heart leap into his throat. Standing at three graves were the crying forms of the Weasley family. Or, at least, most of them. Harry realized that his best friend Ron and the one girl of the siblings Ginny were missing…
"Ron. Ron, are you okay? Ginny, Ron! Please, you have to help me!" Harry pleaded, his hands getting clammy with sweat, and his heart pounding in his chest.
"They cannot help you, Harry Potter…" a familiar voice echoed from his left.
Turning, he looked in shock to see the diminutive form of a familiar House-elf. He turned white as a sheet as he saw the look in Dobby's eyes. Cold, disappointed. Accusing, even.
"Harry Potter should have listened to Dobby. Harry Potter should have stayed away! Now it is too late…!" Dobby insisted, frustration and anger ringing in the little elf's voice.
Walking up, Harry drifted silently through the crying Weasley's. With every step, he felt his legs grow heavier. As if they were suddenly made of lead. Finally, the graves came into view. And the names on the headstones filled him with fear.
"Harry James Potter" was carved into the left one.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley" was carved into the middle one.
And, finally, carved into the one on the right was "Ronald Bilius Weasley" ...
Harry stood there in horror, his hands trembling before turning to look back at Dobby. "What… What is this? Dobby, what is going on?!" he demanded, taking an aggressive step towards the House-elf.
"The consequences of not listening to Dobby… Harry Potter…!" Dobby hissed as he began changing shape.
Soon, in Dobby's place, there was a dark-skinned Severus Snape that slowly morphed into a towering, dark green serpent. Its glinting scales were almost black in color. Hissing loudly, the snake struck as Harry cried out in terror…
Potter's eyes opened in a terror-fueled flash as he was forced to wake up. Sweat clung to his skin and pajamas as he felt his heart race like a jackhammer in his chest. Swiftly, he patted himself down, checking that everything was still where it should be. A sigh loosed from his lips as he put his face into his hands.
"That… It was a dream. Just a bad dream. Get it together, Potter…" He muttered to himself.
Soon, Harry fell back onto his mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to grip him again. However, by the time the first light of morning began to creep into his room, sleep had still eluded him. And it never returned to him.
Later that Morning: Dining Hall
"So, then I heard that McGonagall and Snape's rivalry goes way back. To their school years." Ron said at the dining table, as he waved his fork about as he talked with a bit of egg still attached.
"That's ridiculous, Ron. Professor Snape isn't even the same age as Professor McGonagall." Hermione replied incredulously.
"Are you sure? Because another theory is that Snape is a vampire going back to the 1500's. And I heard from a Ravenclaw that Professor McGonagall was teaching in the 30's." Ron continued, raising an eyebrow at his friend's assertion.
"I think that was her mum." Seamus replied, raising an eyebrow.
"That was her mum?!" Ron asked.
"Ron. That would imply that she has developed a magical form of de-aging that goes against all Ministry regulations. Don't be daft." Ginny sternly huffed, rolling her eyes at her brother's antics.
As the others drew themselves into a deeper conversation, Harry sat there next to Ron, barely eating his food. When he did, it was slow and robotic. His eyes were glazed over with deep purple rings under them. Hermione noticed this change in her friend as Ron and Seamus began to argue about which professor had the bigger hat. Clearing her throat, she then tried to get the boys' attention.
"Harry? Are you okay?" Hermione asked.
"Uh-huh…" Harry answered blankly, not even shifting slightly to look at her.
"Mate? You okay? You look like you haven't slept in a fortnight." Ron said, a look of deep concern on his face.
"Uh-huh…"
"Harry. Don't lie." Hermione sternly ordered.
"Uh-huh…"
Before anyone else could attempt to ask Harry about anything else, the Weasley twins walked past. Fred, seeing Harry in such a state, grabbed a hold of George's shoulder to stop him. Then Fred walked up behind Harry and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Hey, Potter!" Fred chipperly said.
"Yeah-huh?" Harry groggily replied.
"Do you think Ginny is cute?"
"Uh-huh…"
"You're welcome, little sis!" Fred chuckled before scampering off.
"THEY'LL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY, FRED!!" Ginny roared with her face as red as her hair.
Hermoine sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "I don't know if Harry should go to class today. Is he even going to be able to pay attention?" She asked.
"... Who are you and what have you done with Hermoine Granger?" Ron asked in wide-eyed disbelief.
"Well, what do you suggest we do then, Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Simple. We show them just how tough a Gryffindor truly is! Isn't that right, mate!?" Ron firmly asserted before firmly smacking Harry on the back.
As soon as Ron did that, Harry fell over and fell face first into his breakfast porridge. The porridge bubbled as Harry let out gurgling snores into it. Everyone looked in disbelief at the sight.
"Is… Is somebody going to pull his face out of the porridge before he drowns…?" Dean asked in concern.
Moving quickly, Ron and Hermione lifted Harry's face out of the bowl before beginning to clean him up. "I, perhaps, may see your point…" Ron said as he grabbed a napkin to wipe Harry's face off.
Later That Day: Potions Class
A loud yawn slipped through Harry's lips that quickly echoed through the Potions Classroom. Rubbing his eyes with his uniform robe's sleeve, before shaking his head a bit to wake himself up. Between breakfast and now, his classes had gone by in a blur. Some of them he was awake for, some he slept through. In the back of his mind, he knew that all his friends were worried about him, but he could not bring himself to burden them with his troubles. It was his fault that he woke up early this morning because of a nightmare and his fault he could not get back to sleep. So, he would have to tough it out.
The sound of the classroom door slamming open made him jump a bit in fright. Turning his head, he saw Professor Snape storm in with a particularly nasty scowl painted on his face. Behind him from the hallway came a frigid blast of air that nipped at everyone's clothes. Harry gulped nervously as Snape scanned the room.
'Alright, Potter. Focus and don't give him any reason to do anything to you,' He thought, steeling himself against what was likely to come.
"Today you will all be quizzed on how to brew a Strength Potion that you learned how to do last year. Your time starts… now," Professor Snape said coldly, his voice biting into them as viciously as the draft that came in from the door.
'Strength Potion. Got it. I can do this.' Harry thought, before rushing over to get the supplies.
Despite Harry's best efforts to do as well as he could, his body's lack of sleep made that exceedingly difficult. He began fumbling and dropping ingredients all around the cauldron. Twice, he failed the fire-starting charm. He even nearly dropped his notes into the boiling cauldron at one point. By the time he finally got the potion bubbling away, he was exhausted. Panting heavily and having to wipe sweat from his brow, he leaned a bit on the cauldron stand to catch his breath. That was until he heard Professor Snape's voice.
"Potter. Focus. You're endangering the rest of the class with your incompetence." Snape's voice coldly told him.
Slowly Harry turned to look at him and shuffled back up to a slightly hunched stance. "Oh. Sorry, Professor. You… you look paler than usual," he replied, blinking several times slowly.
Snape's eyes widened in shock before he settled into a glare. "Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. Now do try to remain focused…" He began to say before a loud explosion rang out, both startling them, enough to wake Harry up a little more.
"Not again…!" Seamus's voice rang out in despair.
"Make that ten points from Gryffindor." Snape snarled. "Now clean up your mess, Mr. Finnigan."
"He wasn't this bad last month…" Seamus grumbled as he beat the soot off himself.
"You weren't this bad last month," Dean replied, rolling his eyes at his partner's failure.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" Snape called out from across the room.
Even Later That Day: Defense Against the Dark Arts
Harry tried desperately to keep his eyes open. Which was hard to do, considering that they were in "Professor" Lockhart's class now. The overstuffed peacock git was currently rambling on about one of his various "achievements" and putting almost everyone with any sense to sleep while doing so.
"Mr. Potter? Is everything all right?" Lockheart called out, a rare hint of concern leaking through his voice.
"Can you please make this lesson a little less… you? I'm trying my best to stay awake and you're not making it easy…" Harry groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes.
As soon as Harry finished rubbing his eyes, he saw Professor Lockhart's eyebrows furrow with indignation at him. "And pray tell, what would you recommend instead, Mr. Potter?" He asked, tapping his wand like a riding crop against the palm of his hand.
Harry simply shrugged tiredly. "Learning a defense spell? Taking on a dark magical creature? Literally anything other than listening to you ramble on like a pompous peacock…?" He groaned in exhaustion.
The whole room fell silent as the Professor fully turned to look at him. His eyes locked on him like a wolf hunting a deer. Slowly, Lockhart took a deep breath before exhaling.
"Very well, Potter. You can come down here and help me demonstrate a technique I used against a rampaging Golem." He replied coldly; his gaze never once looked away from him as he spoke.
Harry yawned tiredly. "Thank you, Professor… Anything is better than sitting here the entire class period…" He tiredly responded.
Slowly getting up from his chair, Harry walked over to the Professor for the demonstration. Without a word, the Professor pointed to a spot on the floor that he wanted him to stand on. With a small shrug, he shuffled over to the spot. It was then that he noticed Lockhart fashion a wicked grin across his lips. He felt a cold shiver go up his spine and wondered if he made a mistake.
"Now then. When confronted with a rampaging brute, or a mouthing off scallywag, the first step is to restrain them. Observe. Petrificus Totalus!!" The Professor explained, before moving his wand up, across, and ending with a half crescent swish.
A small white spray of magic was soon released from the end of the Professor's wand and swiftly covered him as soon as it made contact. Instantly Harry felt his body lock up and forcibly stand straight. Before he could even attempt to resist, he felt an invisible force began to constrict him like a large snake. He gritted his teeth in pain as he tried his best to endure it.
"Then, once you have restrained your target, you knock them over. Flipendo!!" He said, waving his wand in a S shape before making a checkmark.
As instantly as Harry had felt himself restrained, he was launched off his feet. Before he could even react further, the previous charm wore off and fell flat on his back. Fighting through the pain of hitting the hard floor, he saw Professor Lockhart with a satisfied smile before addressing him.
"Now then. That will be a month's detention for you, Mr. Potter. Return to your seat." Lockhart said curtly before walking over to his desk.
"Yes, Professor…" Harry groaned as he got back up and slunk off to his seat tiredly.
"Now then. For your assignment, you all will be given an essay!"
Groans rippled through the class as Lockhart gave them all the assignment with a flick of his wand. Absent-mindedly Harry grabbed the parchment and looked at it. He scowled at the requirements, wanting it on how fearless the Professor was on his adventures. He sat there staring at it blankly, both from how tired he was and from how done with the day he was. If he was not careful, he was going to snap his pen in half. Maybe that was for the better so he could go to the medical wing instead of having to put up with this nonsense.
That Evening
With classes finally over, Harry stood in a quiet corridor overlooking the school grounds. The cool autumn wind nipped at his clothes and made his cheeks go red from exposure. Even when they started to sting, he did not move. He was at least away from everyone, the hustle and bustle. Below him he watched as other students went about their evening, many just hanging out with friends and having an enjoyable time. Many he saw laughing at something someone said, and part of him felt in some way they were laughing at him. No doubt what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts had become public knowledge.
He shifted his view from looking at other students to the fading light of the day. The cooling orange light clashing with the encroaching darkness. It felt calm if a bit foreboding.
'As long as I don't have another nightmare, I'll be fine,' He thought to himself as he watched the sun set. 'Last October I didn't get any nightmares. I wonder why that's happening now?'
His heart then skipped a beat. October. Everything that went wrong last year started happening in October. In that moment, his heart and mind began to race. No. It cannot happen again. Why did it have to be him? Hadn't he gone through enough? Maybe all of this was a dream that he had yet to wake up from?
'Pull yourself together Harry! It's not going to be like that this year! You'll make sure of it!' He thought to himself, shaking his head to physically reinforce that assertion.
It was then that he remembered something. Ginny mentioned something about writing down his bad dreams. Something about how they would not be rattling about in his mind. He reached into his pack and pulled out the black notebook. Staring at it for what felt like forever.
"It's about time I put you to use for something,"