(a/n: Hi there! I'd like to thank my faithful readers, especially those of you who have left a review, like Destroyerdt and Lily Fish. As usual, a big thanks goeas to my BETA reader IronChefOr, for his great job. I hope chapter 7 will like you...)
Chapter 7. GOOD AND EVIL
That evening after sunset, Remus Lupin arrived at Hermitage castle to escort Harry to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Both traveled by Portkey, as it wasn't possible to apparate there; it was one of the many security measures Dumbledore put in place for the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
The two wizards entered the large kitchen of what in the past had been the House of the Blacks. Mrs. Weasley was busy preparing tea while Mr. Weasley was sitting in front of the fireplace, a worn-out expression on his face. Harry noticed that his hair, which at one time had been hued red like that of his children, was now whiter; he had deep black circles under his eyes, making him look older and more tired than ever before.
"Welcome back. We were waiting for you," Molly greeted them in a whisper.
"Any improvement?" asked Lupin seriously.
"None at all, Remus. At the moment, his condition remains unchanged," Arthur replied with a hint of resignation in his voice.
Molly turned to Harry, smiling slightly. "Are you all right, dear?"
Harry nodded. "How were you able to rescue him? Did you find out Voldemort's hideout?"
Hearing the name, Molly shivered as Arthur coughed nervously. "Harry, it looked like the Death Eaters knew we were coming. They all escaped in time. We just found Mark in there, closed in a small, dirty cell."
Just then, Harry recalled his recurring nightmare. "Was the cell in a... labyrinth... or maze?"
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other puzzled, then Arthur spoke for both of them. "That's true, Harry. Did Remus already tell you about that?"
Harry didn't want to explain further. It was important to him to have confirmation of his suspicions. It meant that his nightmares were reflecting reality. In fact, this was what made them even worse. "I'd like to… I'd like to see Mark now."
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a worried glance; they knew that talking to Mark would be extremely difficult for Harry. This time however, Lupin spoke. "I'll show you to him."
Harry and Remus exited the kitchen, reached the entrance hall, then walked up the stairs. The walls were empty; someone had finally managed to get rid of the horrible painting of Sirius's mother as well as the house-elves' severed heads.
"You've had visions about that, haven't you? I mean about the place were Mark was kept." Lupin asked suddenly. Harry nodded without adding a word.
Arriving on the second floor, they stopped in front of one of the doors. Before entering, Lupin turned to Harry a last time, his entire face gloomy. "You can go in alone, but I need to warn you. Mark is extremely weak. The Spiratus Curse is slowly consuming his lungs. It seems his body isn't strong enough to fight it. Try to keep him from speaking as much as possible. I'll wait for you here in the corridor."
Harry felt a painful bite in his stomach, his uneasiness rising more and more. Entering the room, darkness weighed on his eyes like a veil. The only source of light was a small candle placed on the windowsill, lighting a small canopy bed in a corner of the room.
Harry slowly moved closer. Mark was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. His face was extremely thin and marred by deep scars, still stained with blood. His long red hair was now striped with white, evidence of the pain he had suffered.
Hearing the creaking of the floorboards, Mark suddenly opened his eyes and turned, alarmed. "Who's there?"
Harry didn't reply, but stopped a few steps from the bed in front of the feeble candle light. Mark stared at him for a long moment with his mouth open. "James! I knew it. You've come back to punish me."
This caught Harry unprepared. "I'm not James!" he exclaimed, after a long pause of silence.
"Harry? Is it really you?" A slight smile lit Mark's pale face. "I can't believe you're still alive."
Silence fell again between them. Harry struggled internally, not knowing how to express his thoughts and feelings. Ever since that horrible night in Knockturn Alley, he had wanted to once again speak to him, face to face. He wanted to ask the true reason for his inconceivable betrayal and maybe... let out his disappointment and anger. But now, in front of him, there was just the shadow of a wounded, dying man... someone not to hate, but to have pity on.
Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, not having enough strength to speak.
Mark then broke the icy silence. "I know that you hate me, Harry and I don't blame you for it. I've betrayed your trust. I brought you and your friends right into the hands of the enemy. You were going to be killed!" He suddenly stopped, coughing violently. He then raised a hand to his chest when he was finally able to calm down and spoke again with great difficulty. "I'm a monster. No better than Lucius Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange. If you've come here to enjoy my suffering, I can't blame you. You have every reason to do so."
"We're not all the same, Mark," Harry breathed. "I could never take pleasure in someone else's suffering."
"What drove you to come here then?" asked Mark, after eyeing Harry from head to toe.
"I need to understand," replied Harry, moving a bit closer. "Tell me why you joined Voldemort all that time ago. How is it possible that no one was able to stop you?"
Another sudden hit of coughing shook Mark violently. Alarmed, Harry grabbed his shoulders, helping him to lay back on the bed. "Shall I call someone to help you?"
"NO! It's absolutely useless," he whispered once he regained his breath enough to speak. "My time is almost finished and I don't want to waste it, just like I've wasted my entire life. You need answers from me and I'm ready to give them to you."
Harry sat on a nearby chair and stared intensely at Mark, waiting for him to speak.
"I don't remember my parents. They died when I was very young. I spent my childhood in an orphanage, enduring all sorts of mistreatment from my elder mates. You know? I always found curious it that Tom Riddle, the young wizard who would become the dangerous Lord Voldemort, also spent his childhood in an orphanage. When I got to Hogwarts, I had so much resentment inside me that I thought I was going to explode. I felt rebellious, like someone who was misunderstood." Mark stopped, his stare lost in space.
"Even though I was a Gryffindor, I looked at the young Slytherins with admiration. In my eyes, they were so brave, always ready to impose their way on the others. How blind I was at that time. Those who I considered heroes were just stupid brats. The Dark Lord was a true idol to them, an example to follow... the only one able to return the original glory and power to pure blood wizards." Finishing his sentence, Mark brought his hand to his throat, panting.
"Stop! It's too much for you!" Harry exclaimed in alarm.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just need some water."
Harry nodded. He noticed a glass of water on the bed table and promptly handed it to him. Mark drank it all at once, then continued talking. "At sixteen, I decided to leave school. I didn't tell anyone where I was going or why. In my heart, I had only one desire: to show the whole world who I really was and how brave I was."
"And my parents?" Harry asked, becoming more and more shocked with every word. "Why they didn't stop you?"
"The first time I met Lily, I had just arrived at Hogwarts. I was eleven; she was in fifth year. Dumbledore told us that we were related and she took me under her wing, helping me on more than one occasion. Unfortunately, when Lily and James finished their last year and left school, I felt as though I had become an orphan for the second time. Wanting a better life, I left when I was sixteen and found the Death Eaters' hideout.
"Those wizards were strong, crafty, skilled in dark magic. I was completely blinded by their promises. Very quickly I realized the terrible mistake I had made. They had no pity and hated everybody, except themselves. Their only purpose was to follow the foolish orders of the Dark Lord." Mark stopped again and took another gulp of water. By now he was speaking with great difficulty, but Harry knew all too well that no one would've been able to prevent him from continuing.
"During those months, I witnessed unspeakable atrocities against Muggles and half-bloods. But it finally became too much when I learned that they were looking for your parents. Crazy with fear, I ran to Lily and James. That evening, I entered their house, making sure that nobody was following me. I told your parents that they were in extreme danger and that they needed to find a safer place to hide. You were just a few months old, Harry, and they promised to do everything possible to protect you. That was the last time I saw Lily and James."
A few minutes of silence followed. Mark was doing his best to hold back his tears, while Harry was trying to imagine the entire scene, feeling a knot of pain in his throat.
"For sixteen long years I traveled, not staying in the same town for more than one day. I knew that the Dark Lord was going to find me sooner or later... it was just matter of time. I was an outcast, unworthy to live in either in the magical world or in the Muggle world. Unworthy to have friends or even a family. But the desire to return to my beloved England was stronger than my will power and finally, I surrendered.
"I was surprised when Dumbledore came looking for me and more surprised to hear his offer to go back to Hogwarts and replace Lupin there, as a teacher. You know too well the rest of the story... I don't need to add anything more. At the end of my life, the only thing I've been able to prove to the world is that I'm a weak man, unable to endure evil, a traitor of the worst kind." Another violent attack of coughing prevented him from continuing.
Mark was covering his mouth with his hand; Harry saw blood dripping between his fingers. Extremely worried, he stood up and rushed to the door, but Mark insistently called him back. "Harry, please. My end is near, nobody can help me. I just need you to listen to me, one last time."
Suddenly, Lupin entered the room. Without noticing that Harry was standing by the door, he strode over to the bed and helped Mark lay down. "Everything will be fine," Lupin tried to reassure him, even though his eyes were deeply worried.
"Thank you my friend, but it's too late." Mark smiled slightly, then turned to Harry, who was now standing by the bed in shocked silence.
"Harry, listen to my last words. There is but a thin line between good and evil. A wrong move and you risk falling into a deep abyss, from which it is almost impossible to escape."
"That's enough Mark. Harry understands. You don't need to go on." Lupin's efforts were useless. Mark stretched out a hand and with his last bit of strength he grabbed Harry's shirt, looking at the boy with crazed eyes.
"Good and evil are both present in our souls… the most important thing is to make the right choice… Harry, make sure to always be faithful to your ideals and not to surrender to the evil, even if you think that it would be the easiest way. Do not follow my steps. Do not throw your life away."
Now, completely exhausted, Mark fell heavily back on the pillow, closing his eyes. Crazy with fear, Harry grabbed his arms and shook him insistently. "Mark! MARK! Please talk to me."
Mark Evans slowly opened the eyes, and with an extreme effort, he spoke his last words. "For-give-me-Harry."
"Of course I forgive you," whispered Harry. He was still tightly holding Mark's arms. He felt his warm tears falling down his cheeks. "I forgive you..."
Hearing those words whispered with emotion, Mark, smiling, closed his eyes and left forever. Out the window, the light of sunrise was announcing a new day.
***O***
In the days that followed, Harry remained shut away in his room. He only wanted to be in solitude. Mark's death, and his last words, had touched him deeply, branding another scar on his young heart. Once again, he'd witnessed the death of a friend, caused by Lord Voldemort.
Lupin and Mrs. Weasley tried several times to talk to him, without success. Stubbornly, Harry spent hours huddled in a corner of his room, his stare lost in space, unable to cry or react in any other way. In his mind, a seemingly unending torrent of questions hammered away at him, demanding an appropriate reply. Why has my way always been signed by death? Why do I always feel like a prisoner without escape? Wouldn't it be better to just run away, far from everything and everybody, just like Mark did years ago?
Confusion and fear were predominant in his heart: a terrible fear of the future, of what was going to happen soon... his destined confrontation with his mortal enemy, Lord Voldemort.
That evening, Harry stood by the window, looking at the soft light of the sunset which was filtering in the room. Sadly, he turned to the tray with his dinner, which Mrs. Weasley had brought him hours ago. His stomach was in knots and he was unable to eat anything.
With a deep sigh, he turned again to watch the sunset. The sun had already disappeared behind the buildings; the sky was beginning to take the coloring of black ink. With unending tiredness, he covered his face with his hands, hoping that when he opened his eyes again, he would find that it was just another one of his horrible nightmare and nothing real.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Someone knocked at the door. Thinking that it was Mrs. Weasley collecting the tray, he didn't move from the window.
"Harry? It's me, Hermione. May I come in?"
Hearing her voice, it was as though Harry was able to breath again, surfacing after a prolonged skin-dive.
Without waiting for an answer, Hermione slowly opened the door. The light of the corridor spilled into the dark room. They stared each other for a moment, remaining in silence. It was as if time and space had ceased to exist. Then, without saying a word, Hermione ran to him, hugging him tightly in her arms. Harry felt his love for her swelling, filling the emptiness in his soul. He hid his face in her soft hair and closed his eyes, finally feeling safe at last.
***O***
Harry and Hermione returned to Hermitage castle that very evening. They asked several times to speak to Dumbledore, however Lupin and Mr. Weasley replied categorically every time. It seemed that the Headmaster was traveling outside of England at the time, on a top secret mission for the Order.
Hermione also tried to explain that there was something odd in Magnus Erudio's behavior. Lupin, however, replied that they all trusted the warlock and that she, Harry, and Ron had nothing to fear.
Once at the castle, Harry and Hermione found Ron waiting for them in their bedroom. Although he was curious to know the details of what had happened at Grimmauld Place, he chose to keep his questions to himself, not wanting to add to his friend's stress any more. That evening, nobody mentioned Mark Evans.
The following morning, a potions lesson was planned. Hermione arrived at the boys' bedroom very early, but remained still in front of the door for a few minutes. She too was sorry about Mark's death, but she was more concerned about Harry's behavior. It appeared as though he wasn't able to open his heart to her. Every question she asked, he always replied with monosyllables.
Hermione sighed deeply, then raised her hand to knock on the door; it opened suddenly, revealing an extremely sleepy Ron.
"Merlin's beard, Ron! You scared me!"
"Shhhh! Harry's still sleeping," Ron said, rubbing his eyes. "He kept moaning the whole night. I think he finally fell asleep at sunrise. I didn't sleep well either… Uaaaahhh!" he added, ending the sentence with a resounding yawn.
Hermione rose on her tiptoes and peered inside the dark room. "May I go in for a second?" she asked in a whisper; Ron nodded.
Once inside, she slowly moved to Harry's bed and stared at him apprehensively. The soft morning light filtered in through the windows, revealing his extremely pale and thin face. His dark hair, a bit longer than usual, lay disheveled on the white pillow. His regular breath gave an idea of how deeply he was sleeping.
"Do you think we should wake him up?" whispered Ron.
"I don't think so. I'll leave him a note," Hermione replied. She went over to the desk and started searching for a quill and a piece of parchment. She hurriedly wrote a few lines, then slipped the note inside the Advanced Potions book and put it on Harry's bed table, putting his glasses on top of it. Before leaving, she moved closer and sweetly caressed his cheek with her fingers.
"We should go now," Ron whispered nervously. Hermione nodded, leaving her boyfriend unwillingly.
After the two of them left the room and it was possible to hear their footsteps at the bottom of the corridor, Harry opened his eyes and turned his stare to the ceiling. He had pretended to be asleep; he didn't have any intention of joining Ron and Hermione for the lesson. Tiredly, he stretched a hand out to take his glasses. He pulled Hermione's note out of the book and read it.
Good morning Harry. We wanted to let you sleep a bit more today, hoping that you'll join us for lunch. In the meantime, why don't you start with Snape's essay on the most poisonous potions? Love Hermione."
Letting out a puff of breath in annoyance, Harry sat up on the bed and picked up the large Potions text. He then pointed his wand at the nearby candelabrum. "Incendio!" The candles lit.
The chapter about the most poisonous plants started on page 520. Although Harry didn't' really want to study, he tried, all the same, to follow Hermione's suggestion and began to read.
The use of poisonous plants became a common practice in the Middle Ages. It's known that in 1034, Sir Mathias De Bubberon prepared an infusion of Amanita phalloides and tested it on his wife Lady Anya. After having carefully taken note of the effects of the poison, he promptly gave her the antitoxic made with extract of Silybum marianum. Inexplicably, Lady Anya decided to leave her husband afterwards, but that is another story.
With a grimace of disgust, Harry closed the book and threw it against the wardrobe. In that moment, he didn't at all care how many poisonous potions Sir Mathias De Bubberon had experimented with. Actually, he even didn't care about starting Snape's essay. The only thing he wanted to do was to spend the whole day lying on his bed and not see another living soul. But then he realized that Hermione was expecting him to do his homework; the thought of disappointing her became unbearable.
Harry slowly got out of bed and moved to collect the book from the floor. He had just bent down when his attention was caught by a twinkling under the bed. Pushed by his curiosity, he crouched down further and suddenly realized that it was the colored wrapping paper of his birthday presents. With all that had happened, he had completely forgotten that he had turned seventeen just a few days earlier.
Harry took the presents out from under the bed and sat on the floor, looking at them one at a time. He opened Mrs. Weasley's cake covered with chocolate icing; he took a bite of one of the slices. He unwrapped a small brown box, in which he found a white, furry ferret tail, with a small iron ring attached to it. He looked at the present for a while, wondering the use of it. He then read the card.
Happy birthday, Harry! If you've already opened Lupin's present, then you already know why you'll need my present. If you haven't opened it yet, well… you should go and open Lupin's present right now, so you'll understand. Hagrid.
Even more curious, Harry looked for Lupin's present and opened it quickly. He was surprised to see that it was a type of silver key, with an half-moon shape. There was a card with it.
Dear Harry. Since you've become of age, I'm sure that you'll appreciate this present. It's Sirius's motorbike. Keep the key safe, until the start of term... Best wishes, Remus Lupin.
Harry smiled, feeling deeply honored. He stuck his index finger through the key ring and spun the key around his finger. Harry felt as though it meant that Lupin, as well as Dumbledore and the other adults who loved him, finally trusted him. This thought was of great comfort. He held the key tightly in his hand, then hid it in his pocket.
Fred and George's present was a flat, rectangular box wrapped in multi-colored paper. Inside the box, he found a bag made of black dragon leather with a card hanging from it.
Our best wishes to you Harry. Do you remember when Dumbledore asked us to create something special for the Order? Well, we're proud to inform you that we made it. In this bag you'll find prototypes of our newest inventions against dark magic. Happy Birthday and… have fun! Fred & George.
PS: Just a reminder. To open the bag, you need to make a certain promise...
Harry thought about their last words, and then understood. He pointed his wand at the bag and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good!"
Suddenly, the lock unlatched and the bag opened, revealing its precious contents: a large variety of magical devices, worthy of the most daring secret agent.
Each device was labeled with its name and use. On a little round box was written, "Invisibility Gummy: Eat one and you'll disappear for more than a half an hour." There was a watch called "Foe-glass Watch: Useful cross between a Muggle watch and one of the best foe-glasses ever invented in the magical world." There was even an improved version of Fred and George's Extendable Ears, able to break Imperturbable Charms. These complemented perfectly their brand new "Extendable Eyes."
But Harry's attention was drawn to a small aerosol can labeled "Mystery Revealer: A simple spray on doors or walls, and any secrets behind will be secret no more. Duration is rated at a maximum of five minutes per spray." Reading the label, a crazy idea came to Harry's mind.
Why not use it to reveal Magnus Erudio's secrets? he asked himself, becoming more and more intrigued the longer he thought about it. Wasting no time, he stood up and got dressed. He put on a pair of worn-out jeans and a black T-shirt, then rushed out of the room with the can in his pocket.
It's still early. I'm sure Erudio is busy with Ron and Hermione now, he thought, running downstairs. Once he reached the main entrance, he looked around warily to be sure that nobody was following him. He then headed to the restricted west wing of the castle, where Erudio's rooms were.
He slowly went upstairs and made it to the deserted corridor on the second floor. Everything was dark and quiet. Harry cautiously walked until he reached an heavy wooden door, with golden handles. He again looked around before taking out his wand to try to open the lock.
"ALOHOMORA!" he whispered. For a couple of seconds the door shone with a blue light, but nothing else happened.
Harry tried the spell again, without success. The door must have been protected by a strong Imperturbable or locking charm. Wanting to go further, he took the Mystery Revealer out of his pocket and gave the door a good spray. The door began to shimmer with a rippling effect, as if it was made of gelatin. Finally, it disappeared, revealing the inside of the dark room.
"Wow!" exclaimed Harry. Hesitant, he stretched out a hand toward the door, but realized that it wasn't possible to go beyond it. The spray had only made the door transparent. The effect would have lasted for nearly five minutes.
Nervously, he lit his wand and pointed it inside, revealing a small canopy bed in a corner, several shelves on the walls full of books, and a large desk covered with pieces of parchment.
"Damn it!" he exclaimed in anger. "All useless!"
Harry was about to give up when little Wizzy materialized at his side with a resounding "POP!" making Harry jump in place from surprise.
"May I help you, Harry Potter sir?" asked the elf with his ringing voice.
"H-how did you know that I was here?" asked Harry, again looking warily around him.
"I didn't know it, in fact. I just came to clean my Master's room and I found you."
"Well I… actually, I don't…" stammered Harry, trying to find a good excuse.
"Harry Potter don't need to justify his actions to me. For sure, Harry Potter is acting in my Master's good interests, that's why I won't say a word to any living soul."
"T-thanks Wizzy," said Harry, sighing in relief.
"Please, this way." The elf stretched out his hand toward the lock. Suddenly, the door opened.
Harry slowly moved inside, while Wizzy stood watch by the door. With little time, Harry moved directly to the desk, lighting it with his wand. He looked through the mess of parchment and open books which lay upon it.
His attention was caught by a large, dark-colored book, labeled with two sets of initials: "HJP / LJP." Frowning, he skimmed through it, soon realizing that it was collection of virtually every article ever written about himself, taken from the Daily Prophet. Many of them dated back to the time of the Triwizard Tournament, three years ago. Many others were from his fifth year in school, when he was portrayed as a liar looking for notoriety. Other more recent articles pictured him as an hero.
Harry skimmed through the pages, becoming increasingly surprised and puzzled. What was the meaning of all the interest that Erudio had with him?
Suddenly, the desk jolted; Harry moved away, surprised. There probably was a boggart hidden in one of the drawers. Not placing much importance on it, he frantically kept searching for other information among the sheets of parchment. The desk jolted a second and third time, more violently.
At this point, Harry decided it was time to leave. That stupid boggart's making too much noise! He stepped away from the desk and started to head to the door when the desk jolted a last time. The drawer opened itself, allowing a thick gray cloud of fog to roll out. Expecting to face a dementor, Harry prepared himself to cast a Patronus charm. What he saw when he turned around left him speechless.
In front of him wasn't a dementor, but an exact copy of himself. The boggart had taken Harry's form. Now, the two wizards were looking at each other in disbelief, both with their wand lit and held in their right hand.
Harry didn't have time to understand what was going on; his double pointed his wand against him and cast a spell with a voice full of hate "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Right as the ray of green light was about to hit him, Harry promptly jumped to the side, avoiding it. Still bewildered, he rolled on his back and found refuge under the canopy bed. During those few, feverish seconds, he felt his heart beating furiously as he tried to find an explanation. It's just a boggart, a stupid boggart! he kept repeating to himself.
In the meantime, his double was slowly moving toward him with wand raised. Harry was ready and as soon as he heard it coming, he stood up and attacked it, "RIDDIKULUS!"
At Harry's words, a beam of light rushed from his wand and caught the boggart square in the chest. Unexpectedly, the spell didn't have any effect and the creature was still there, ready to cast another spell, "AVADA KEDA…"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" shouted Harry promptly and the boggart's wand flew out of it's hand. Then, with all his strength, Harry threw himself on it and immobilized it on the floor, holding its arms across its chest.
"RIDDIKULUS! RIDDIKULUS!" With his free hand, Harry tried several times to cast the spell, without any effect. Not only did the creature not disappear, but it was staring at him with an evil sneer plastered on its face.
"Who are you? What do you want?" shouted Harry, his voice full of anger. The reply came quickly. Suddenly, the boggart's eyes changed color, from bright green to blood red, with a thin pupil like that of a snake.
Shocked, Harry felt his strength leaving him and was unable to maintain his restraint. The boggart released itself, pushed him aside and stood up. Harry remained on the floor, looking at the creature in disbelief. "It's not possible..."
Slowly, but inexorably, the boggart transformed again and in a few seconds it became the exact copy of Lord Voldemort. Its cadaverous pale face and long, skeleton-like fingers emerged from its cloak sleeves, a demonic look in its eyes. The boggart summoned its wand and pointed it directly at Harry, who shouted "You're not real. YOU-ARE-NOT-REAL!"
He gathered all of his courage and stood up, tightened his grip on the wand in his right hand, and desperately tried once more to cast the spell. "RIDDIKULUS!" A ray of golden light hit the boggart directly in the heart and finally, it disappeared in a silvery cloud of fog.
Still disoriented, Harry reached the door staggering, and found Wizzy there, looking at him with eyes wide open. Without saying a word, Harry ran away as fast as he could. He descended the stairs and then exited the main gate. Not knowing where he was going, he only wanted to be as far away as possible from that place, and from everybody.
Harry ran and ran, driven by the force of his desperation; he could feeling his legs trembling. When he wasn't able to take another step, he fell on the grass, exhausted and upset. His face red and forehead sweaty, he lay there for a while, staring at the gray sky above him, trying to regain his breath. "I'll never be like HIM! I'll never become his slave! NEVER!"
"You are my equal, Harry Potter." Suddenly, a cold and evil voice entered his mind with insistence. "Come with me or lose all the ones you love."
Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands to his head, trying to cast out that horrible voice. He then felt his anger rising inside him, and felt the need to react to all that was happening to him. He stood up and shouted with all his strength against the wind. "I'll never be yours. Can you hear me? NEVER, NEVER!"
Harry took a big stone from the ground and threw it away, as far as he could, feeling his heart beating violently in his chest. Then, he looked around, realizing that he was completely alone in the middle of the wide open prairie. Tired and disheartened, he felt warm tears falling down his face. "I'll never be like you," he whispered, feeling a knot in his throat. "I'll never surrender to you."
On the horizon, large gray clouds announced a storm.
7
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