WHAT IS HELL
*****
Harry was in what looked to be a graveyard. Tombstones littered the area as far as the eye could see. It was a very depressing place, but it seemed as if something was there.
Harry could feel its presence: his hair was standing on end and he felt a wrenching feeling in his gut. He could hear something, the snap of a twig, the flutter of wings, the rustling of leaves. It was getting closer. It was very close. It gave Harry another feeling: fear. It was starting to swell inside him, traveling along every cell in his body. He knew it was right behind him, but he could not summon the courage to turn around. He could feel its breath on the back of his neck, could sense its hand reaching out to get him…
The hand gripped him, digging its talons into his flesh. Harry could feel his blood running along down his skin. The flesh in contact with the hand began to burn, sending the smell of smoke and burnt flesh.
The hand forced Harry to turn around. It took all of Harry's courage not to scream. Facing him was a large, demonic-like figure. Flames spouted from out of its black flesh, giving it a menacing look. The horns on the creature were large and sharp, well over a foot long. The eyes were burning with a fiery menace, maniacal and intimidating. Six-inch long talons jutted out from the creature's hands and feet, looking sharper than a scalpel.
A low, loud rumbling came from the demon's mouth, shaking its surroundings, "So you are the one who drank from the goblet. It will be great fun torturing you."
Before Harry even had a chance to say anything, the demon's claws ripped away the flesh from his arm, causing him to scream out in pain. The claws then tore off his left arm completely, causing Harry to nearly faint from the pain. He fell to his knees, arm bleeding, eyes watering, and mouth screaming.
The ground around him began to shake, and great crevices appeared, spewing forth great flames that encompassed Harry, burning away his body. More demons arose from these crevices, wanting to join the fun of tormenting a fresh new victim. The all began tearing into Harry, ripping him to pieces. He was soon left a pile of bleeding, torn body parts. But soon, his body put itself back together, only to be ripped apart again. He had never felt such pain before.
His screams become more distant, more erratic. He slowly began to stop moving as a new darkness surrounded him. He slowly began to drift away, falling endlessly, through nothingness. But in his dark surroundings, Harry could see a light. As the light moved closer, Harry could see that it was in the shape of a person: a woman, no doubt. Harry could not see her face, but could hear her voice, whispering, "Come back to me."
*****
Harry's eyes bolted open. He sat up and looked around. His body ached, and he still felt nauseous. Desperate to keep whatever contents in his stomach in their rightful place, Harry closed his eyes to stop the dizziness creeping up on him.
After sitting for a few minutes on the bathroom floor, Harry stood up. His whole body was trembling, and his knees felt as if they would buckle under his weight at any second.
Finally able to walk, Harry made his way through the bathroom door to his room. There he grabbed some clothes, and took them into the bathroom with him. He turned on the shower, undressed, and got in. The warmth of the water began to soothe his aching muscles, leaving him feeling refreshed.
Fifteen minutes later, the shower was turned off. Harry exited, and wrapped a towel he found in a cabinet under the sink around him. As he looked in the mirror, he saw markings that made him wince. His upper body was covered in ugly bruises, some turning to a disgusting yellow-green color. There were also five, circular shaped wounds, and as Harry remembered how he got them, the pain came flooding back. His hands clutched at the injuries, hopelessly trying to ease the tenderness.
Discovering that he could do nothing to stop the pain, Harry changed into his new clothes. He then exited the bathroom, and left to go downstairs.
Upon entering the kitchen, an aroma of freshly cooked bacon and eggs attacked his sense of smell. His stomach grumbled quite loudly, considering he had not eaten for a very long time.
The cacophony made by his stomach was what made the three Grangers notice that he had entered the kitchen. Mr. Granger looked up from the newspaper he was currently reading, Mrs. Granger stopped scrambling some eggs in the skillet, and Hermione stopped eating and turned to face him.
"Hi Harry," she said awkwardly.
"Hey," Harry said nonchalantly.
"Are you feeling well this morning Harry? You look awfully pale," Mrs. Granger said concernedly as she resumed her food preparation.
"I'm fine," Harry lied, finding an interesting spot on the kitchen tile so he would not have to look any of the Grangers in the eye. They all looked skeptical at this comment, but made no further inquiries.
"Well, why don't you take a seat? I'll have your breakfast done in a few minutes," Mrs. Granger said kindly.
Harry sat down at the table and looked at the two people currently residing there. Mr. Granger had recommenced reading the paper, and Hermione was eating her food, though still watching Harry out of the corner of her eye.
When Harry's breakfast was placed before him, the scent and amount of the delicious food made him nauseous and his appetite was lost. He just couldn't eat that much anymore. He decided that taking a few bites would be best, and ate as much as could, which was not a large amount.
"How come you're not eating your breakfast Harry? Do you not like bacon and eggs?" Mrs. Granger queried.
"No, it's not that. I'm just not used to getting this amount of food at the Dursleys." All of the Grangers frowned at this comment.
Find the silence that ensued uncomfortable, Harry made to retreat back to his room. "Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Granger, it was delicious."
He slowly made his way back up to his room, and lie down on the bed. Instantly, memories began plaguing his mind. It was like someone had flipped a switch; they were instantly turned on as soon as his eyes were closed.
Memories: he had so many of them. Lots of them were happy, but loads of them were filled with pain and misery.
Sirius was falling through a tattered, black veil. His face was still full of laughter, but a new expression had emerged: shock. He fell gracefully through the veil, never to return-
Harry was shaken from reminiscing his memories at a knock on his door. "Harry?" It was Hermione. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," Harry replied sorrowfully, the sadness he had experienced from the memories not having left. The door opened, and Hermione entered the bedroom timidly, as though she was breaching a wall that was not meant to be crossed.
"Harry? Can I talk to you?" she asked nervously.
"About what?" Harry answered, his face blank as he stared at the ceiling.
"About Sirius," she answered quietly. She knew Harry did not want to talk about Sirius, but he had to if he wanted to get better.
"What is there to talk about?" Harry replied, the guilt forming a lump in his throat.
"The fact that you need to get over his death," she responded desperately.
"And why should I," said Harry darkly. His face showed no emotion, but his eyes showed different. They betrayed his feeling of guilt and despair: the fact that he felt truly and utterly alone.
"If you want to get better than you must talk," Hermione responded again, her voice slightly more confident than before. "Sirius would want you to be happy, you know that."
"I don't deserve happiness. Not after what I did," Harry said emptily.
"Why must you feel that you need to punish yourself?" Hermione said slightly louder as her frustration grew.
"Because it is how I was raised. I am no more than a piece of filth. They all say I am," Harry finished softly.
"Wait, who is they?" she questioned.
"Everyone," Harry answered flatly.
"Everyone?" Hermione asked confused.
"Yes, everyone," Harry said, "The Dursleys, Voldemort, Sirius, my parents, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, Dumbledore, you."
"I never insulted you!" Hermione said, looking affronted.
"In my sleep you do. Every night I am plagued by nightmares; nightmares in which everyone hates me, insults me, hurts me. I can't escape…" Harry finished off sadly.
"Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said apologetically.
"There's no need to be sorry. God knows I deserve it," Harry answered dismally.
"But why do you deserve it?" Hermione inquired.
"Because I am an idiot!" Harry shouted as he sat up from his place on his bed, "I chose to go to the ministry, to put you all in danger! I chose to go with my `saving people thing'! I chose not to listen to you tell me it was a trap! I chose to go recklessly, not considering the consequences of my actions! And you know what happened? The person I loved most in this world was taken from me, all because of my careless choices!
"But now I am alone, and it is all my fault. Why should I be happy when Sirius is not? Why should I be loved when Sirius cannot be? Why should I be alive if Sirius is not?"
Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She forcefully grabbed Harry in a tight hug, trying to console him. The only thing that happened, however, was that Harry let out a small gasp of pain.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking worried.
"It's nothing," he lied.
"Harry James Potter! Don't lie to me! I can tell if you're lying to me, you know," Hermione scolded.
"It's nothing," he repeated.
"Please, Harry, tell me. What's bothering you?" she asked frantically.
"Nothing, now please, just leave me alone, I want to sleep," Harry asked, the bags under his eyes giving off how tired he actually was.
"Fine, but please, tomorrow, tell me what's the matter, okay?" she pleaded.
"When I'm ready to talk, you're the first person I'll come to," Harry responded. This seemed to satisfy her, and she left the room quietly, not making any noise as she closed the door.
Harry, without changing, lay back down on his bed, and let darkness take him.
*****
Harry awoke a few hours later, his sleep having done nothing to rejuvenate him. He had been tortured through the mind, as the Dark Lord told him. Image after image of people he loved were dead or dying, in the most horrifying ways possible. Then he too, would be tortured, so that he was unable to help them, making the guilt for not rescuing them build up.
Harry got out of bed, his legs felt like jelly after what he had just witnessed in his nightmares. Stumbling slightly as he made his way over to his trunk, Harry pulled out a new shirt to change into. Just after he took his shirt off however, someone opened the door.
"Oh, sorry Harry, I was just checking to see if you were awake-" she cut herself off and her eyes widened when she got a look at Harry's bare chest. She saw the bruises and the five, round holes.
She screamed.
The scream drove her parents running into Harry's room.
"What's wrong?" her father asked. They turned and looked at Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger's jaws dropped.
"Oh my lord…" Mrs. Granger gasped.
*****
A/N: Yes, I do realize I am completely changing how this story used to be, but there is a point to it, so don't hurt me just yet! I know this is confusing and all but please bare with me; I'm trying to edit this story and make it work out. Okay?
The Dark Sorceror (Yes, and I do know it's spelled wrong)
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