Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter and never will! Hope you all like it!

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Chapter Fourteen- As Darkness Looms

He who wields the light in the dark

Will try and find that lonely spark

But day always has a night

As dark has a light

And the one that tries to survive

Will no sooner be alive

And when the prophecy is beheld

Say goodbye to your precious world

And as I find my long lost love

There will be no white dove

The darkness was intoxicating. It was everywhere. No light shone from before him, from behind or beside him. It was thick, so thick it was hard to breathe. Time was not an option in this desolate place, as there was no day, just an endless, starless night. He was alone, alone, completely alone for the first time in his life. Sure, he was alone before he knew about the whole being a wizard thing, but he still had his relatives. But this, this was scary. Facing Voldemort was easy compared to this. There was dead silence, even his breath was silent, and his voice when spoken made no sound. He knew he was there, he could feel himself standing on solid ground, but the ground, he could not see. His body was invisible in this darkened nightmare.

The last thing he could recall was hearing that song play around in the darkness as he plummeted down from the windy tower and the shocked expressions on his enemies' faces. Was this some sort of plan, plotted against him by Voldemort? He thought within his head, at least I can hear my own thoughts, he said in his mind.

But so far, there had been nothing but the dark to keep him company. He had tried to walk, to find a way out of this night time landscape, but it was difficult. Not knowing where he was going, not seeing his own feet step and not hearing their footfalls was frightening. He was blind, deaf and lost. After a while he sat himself down, feeling the ground underneath him was reassuring, especially after not being able to see it. He ran his fingers over the cold surface, finding no cracks, no marks, just smoothness. It was perfect. The lack of color, noise and practically everything, made this shadowed world, almost `comforting'.

There was nothing to worry him in here, except for his lack of senses. There was no one to harm in here, no one to lead into danger, no one to kill. It made him feel safe, knowing that everyone was living out there somewhere in peace.

The darkness soon grew on him, making him feel extremely tired. He yawned silently and unseen, and lay down upon the cold, smooth surface. He stared ahead of him, not knowing his eyes were closed and he was already asleep. His dreams were dark and blank as well, not letting him see any color. After awaking unknowingly, he began walking again through the dark, slowly at first but getting faster. Soon he was running, running from some unknown assailant hidden in the shadows. Colors began shooting up in front of his eyes, mere hallucinations from the endless black. They were confusing, popping up here and there, startling him.

He never got tired from his running; even after thinking he had run for about three hours, his breath was still calm, his legs were normal, his joints were creakless. He slowed to a walk, getting bored by now. He slept again, not making much difference to the darkened wake, to his dreamless sleep. When he woke, he ran again, faster, and faster, feeling his hair whip back onto his head, but hearing no wind I his ears.

As soon as it happened he jumped back up, startled and with a headache. He had been running for almost all day, none stopping, keeping his calm breath, when he ran into something solid, something `wet'. He pulled himself off the cool, invisible ground, and felt in front of him. He felt a cold wall or barrier in the dark. He pressed his ear to it, hearing faint sounds. His ears buzzed at the small noise after so long without it. He felt over the entire surface of the unseen wall, finding no glitch, no crack, no mark once more. Suddenly there was a blinding light, making Harry clench his eyes shut with pain. Even with his eyes shut, he seen the white piercing light, blearing into his mind. He carefully opened his eyes, finding the light still present, but faintly dimmer. Soon he grew accustomed to it and opened his eyes wide.

There was a thin slit of white light shining from under the unseen wall, seeming to be a door. Harry flopped to his stomach and pressed his head to the floor. He peered into the light, trying to find its source. He gasped at the scene on the other side and quickly scrambled to his feet. He frantically scratched at the black wall, trying to find a means of opening it, to reach the other side. Finally, he found a small latch kind of thing at the bottom, he grasped it and pulled. It turned out to be a large zip, and when pulled, the wall slowly unzipped, showing the scene on the opposite side.

Harry was blinded momentarily by the sudden blare of light, but soon recovered. He stepped out from the exact opposite to what he was seeing. The wall slammed shut behind him, with a slight `zipping' noise being heard. Everything here was white and light. There was a soft tune playing somewhere in the distance, unrecognizable and foreign he stepped forward, finally seeing his body for the first time in what seemed like a century. He wore bright white robes, unknown to him, not having seen them before in his life. They were laced in a silver trimming, with a large symbol sewn on the front. Harry gasped at it and tried to pull it off, recognizing the unmistakable sign of Avlantia.

The tune sounded closer, bringing with it a voice and a figure. Harry's heart beat in his throat, threatening to jump out and bolt for its life. The first figure drew closer, singing beautifully, clothed in the same white dress. It was Abagale. Following close by, clothed in black jeans, shirt, jacket and boots, was Tom Riddle. They stopped in front of him, followed by the music. They smiled happily, with the young Voldemort's, sinister and evil.

“Told you we'll be seeing you, Harry!” said Voldemort, grinning widely, his eyes alight with malice. Harry stepped back, not uttering a word. “Where you going, Harry?” came the silky voice of Avlantia, she glided forward.

“What do you want with me!” shouted Harry, hearing his voice for the first time since entering this strange place. “My, my, you have got a nasty temper,” she began. “I can see why Tom likes you so much. So much that he has to kill you, a pity, since you're such a good looker.”

Harry looked around frantically for any signs of an exit or a way to get away from these psycho's. He wanted to wake up, to get away. But, how? He never had the choice before of waking up, it always just happened. So how could he escape, how could he get away?

“Harry, oh, Harry?” he snapped his head up and stared at Abagale. “Thank goodness, I thought we'd lost you for a second. We have come to you today, to talk with you about a particular prophecy; I believe you know which one.” His heart beat in his chest, pounding into his ribs, making his feel extremely sick. “Yes, with the look on your face, we believe you do know what we're talking about. Tom has informed me of last year, when he tried to take his prophecy, but once more, you defied him. And now, he needs to get it back. No matter what. So Harry, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”

“I'll never tell you the prophecy, you will have to kill me before I utter one word of it!” he spat, his voice sounding braver than he felt. Tom smiled.

“That can be arranged!” he said happily, stepping forward and linking arms with Abagale. She smiled also, and drew his arm closer. “Yes, that would be the easy way. We kill you, and see what happens, so you can not defy us again, or you can tell us, which would be the hard way, as you would most likely tell us something wrong and you may escape. So I think we should go with the first way, what do you think, Tommy?” Harry almost choked on the pet name given to Voldemort.

They stepped closer, but stopped again, and looked around, for some unknown thing. Then Harry heard it, a soft calling of a name, his name. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The two enemies of his looked at him, disappointed looks on their faces. “Oh, well, looks like your being woken up. But until next time your eyes close and you stumble into the world of dreams, have fun!” said Avlantia sighing. Voldemort spoke.

“Occlumency will not keep us out, Potter. You can't always stay awake.” He was falling, falling through the darkness once more. This time specs of white were falling with him. Suddenly he splashed into freezing cold water; it engulfed him, chilling him to the bone. He was drowning. When all was lost, there was a blinding light as his eyes opened.

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“Harry, Harry,” said a soft voice from above him. A hand was being run through his hair, and one across his cheek. A billowing curtain of brown curls fell about him, as the face of Hermione slowly came into focus, then out. There was hushed voices from somewhere in the room and shuffling footsteps. Glasses were placed on his face, letting the world come into focus.

Hermione was sitting on the bed which he was lying on. Her eyes were red and puffy, with tear streaks running down her cheeks. She smiled happily, and leaned in and hugged him, sniffing. Ron was sitting in a chair on the other side of his bed, his face pale. He grinned thankfully. His eyes held a certain terror and pain. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, her own face set in a stern expression, holding a tray full of many goblets of potions. She placed her hand on his forehead, and then checked his temperature.

“Mr. Potter, can't you stay a whole year here, without taking a trip to the hospital wing!” Harry smiled slightly, feeling his head throb painfully. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Don't speak Harry,” Hermione murmured her eyes full of unshed tears. Later on, after taking many potions and having a small meal, Professor Dumbledore came in. Harry tried to sit up, but the headmaster shook his head.

“Try not to move, Harry,” he said, taking Ron's seat. His two best friends were forced out of the infirmary by Madam Pomfrey, saying he needed rest, as did they. He slumped back down in his bed, looking intently at the old man.

He took a deep breath. “You have been asleep for almost a week,” Harry gasped soundlessly. “When you did not awake, Mr. Weasley sent someone to me immediately, and you were taken here. We have attempted many times to awaken you, using potions and spells, but none succeeded. Almost everyone gave up hope of you ever awaking, but Hermione stayed by your side always. She never left for food or classes. She repeatedly said your name and talked to you, wishing for you to wake up, and today you have.” Harry nodded, and then pointed to his mouth. The headmaster's face looked grave; his eyes were sad and held no sign of his trademark twinkle.

“It seems, as you slept, a spell was put on you or you have taken a potion. It has taking your voice, rendering you mute.” He closed his eyes, wishing what he was hearing wasn't true, hoping that he was still dreaming. He reopened his eyes, and pleaded it wasn't true, that he had heard things. But it wasn't.

“I'm truly sorry, Harry. We will try everything we can to help you, to get your voice back. But until then, please try to rest. If you want, you may go to classes and meals, but if not, you're welcome to stay here or somewhere else. When you recover your voice, you may tell us what appeared in your sleep. Did Voldemort appear in your dreams?” Dumbledore asked, and frowned when Harry nodded and mimed, “He wasn't alone.”

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`Why isn't it working?” huffed Harry angrily inside his mind, after the third time at attempting to empty his thoughts into the silver and black pensive before him. The headmaster, professor McGonagall and Professor Snape shook their heads, expressions of helplessness written on their faces. All that showed up in the swirling white mist, was blackness, no matter how long they watched, the white room never played before them.

“It seems that whatever took Harry's voice, has taken the ability for those memories to playback. We will just have to wait and see what unfolds.”

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Harry yelled with all his might at the parchment before him. He had tried to write what had occurred in his head, but every time he tried, something else was written instead. He had begun to write `Voldemort' and the word `Harry' was written, he had attempted to write `Avlantia and `Abagale' but both times, `Hermione' was written instead. The word `prophecy' was written as `story'. He angrily screwed the parchment up and tossed it into the roaring flames of the fire. He also had no ability to perform magic with a wand, not able to speak aloud. So he had to use soul magic, pretending to use his wand.

`This is so frustrating!' he thought miserably, flinging an extra piece of paper into the fire using soul magic. Hermione had gone to bed and Ron was off somewhere with someone. He felt so alone. He hadn't slept since waking up from that week long dream with Voldemort and Avlantia, and he wasn't planning on sleeping any time soon. But Tom Riddle was right, he couldn't stay awake forever.