Post by Harry James Potter on Sept 18, 2011 9:22:53 GMT -5
[/font][/size]last week found me living for nothing but deadlines,HARRY JAMES POTTER
" There's so many wars we fought,
There's so many things we're not,
But with what we have,
I promise you that,
We're marching on,
(We're marching on)
(We're marching on).''
with my dead beat sky but, this town doesn't look the same tonight
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these dreams started singing to me out of nowhere,
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and in all my life i don't know that i ever felt so alive,
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here we are now with the falling sky,
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[/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]and the rain, we're awakening.
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rp sample;;Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock. The sound of a resonating clock ticked throughout the large empty room. Darkness surrounded the vast sea of empty pews that stretched all the way to the front of what seemed to be an immense cathedral. The ceilings rose deep into the darkness, making it almost impossible to see how far they extended. It seemed that the whole building was made of stone, from the walls to the floor, much like the castle of Hogwarts. However unlike the busy halls of the castle, the only movement in the room came from the flicker of shadows across the walls which seemed to be coming from the few candles that lit the entire building. It was eerie to say the least.
The room seemed to be almost completely empty, except for a boy setting in the farthest pew. His jet black hair made it nearly impossible to spot him amongst the dark shadows in the back of the room. Sitting with his elbows propped on his knees, Harry Potter stared blankly towards the front pews. Something inside him didn’t feel right, like he was imposing on something personal. But, how could he be? There was no one there to be imposing on.
Sitting back against the pew, he looked around the dark room once again, but still he found nothing. Then, suddenly, something near the front of the room caught his eye. Atop the altar steps stood what seemed to be a casket made of beautiful oak. A funeral? the boy thought to himself, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn’t know of any recent deaths that he might be attending. And why wasn’t anyone else there? Leaning forward, he placed his arms over the back of the pew in front of him, and squinted to get a better look at the front of the church. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but still the odd feeling of anxiety remained.
Sliding out of the end of the empty pew, Harry remained standing in the middle of the aisle contemplating on his next move. Obviously it was not his place to be here, but the coffin seemed to be calling to him; begging him to step forward. Resisting, the boy turned his back to the front of the church and placed his hand on the door handle that led to the streets outside. However, before he was able to turn the brass knob, the candles around the room flickered violently before shutting out completely as a strong blast of wind whipped around the room.
Holding his breath, Harry turned to peer into the complete darkness that had now engulfed the entire cathedral. The door behind him was now lost in the shadows and fear was quick to grip his insides as he searched for a way out. A flicker appeared around the front of the altar as a row of candles came to life. Standing stalk still, the boy could feel an overwhelming urge to lift the casket lid and peer inside. The room seemed to grow cold around him, and his breath materialized into puffs of white before his eyes.
Slowly, he shuffled his feet down the red carpeted aisle, feeling his anxiety grow as he passed each row of long disserted pews. Taking each step up to the altar as cautiously as possible, Harry stopped in front of the gleaming wood. Upon closer inspection, he could see that this was indeed a high quality casket, one that would be owned by someone rich enough to buy the finer things in life. Running his hand along the smooth edges of the lid its coldness reflected the temperature of the room, and he watched as the reflection of the flames above danced across the glossy surface. It seemed as if the coffin itself was a blaze, as the fires of the candles burned brighter.
Swallowing back his fear, Harry looped his fingers under the coffin’s lid and slowly pushed it open. What he found inside confused him at first, causing him to stare down in wonder. A pile of ash was all that lie within the padded bed, raked into a nice neat pile. However, something seemed to be shifting between the black layers, causing them to shake back and forth. Leaning in for a better look, the boy saw a slight smoke rising out of the pile, gaining more mass as the ash swirled within it. That's when Harry realized where he had seen such things before.
Suppressing a scream, Harry stumbled backwards off of the frozen altar, landing flat on his back and bouncing his head off the hard ice covered cobblestone floor. Closing his eyes in pain, he heard an echoing bang as if coming from far off. Blinking the fuzziness from his vision, Harry tried to stumble to his feet, but quickly slipped back to his knees. The room tilted violently as he tried desperately to right his vision. He could see that the coffin had returned to its original closed state, and thought perhaps that he had merely imagined the black mass rising from the ashes.
With another gush of cold, piercing wind, the candles around the altar flickered and died, casting him back into the pitch black solitude. A noise to his left caused him to swing his head abruptly in that direction, bringing on another dizzy spell that left his head reeling. That's when a hand grabbed the back of his hair and pulled his head roughly backwards, so that he was facing the ceiling. Letting out a small cry, the boy tried desperately to move his arms, but found them uselessly locked as his side. An all too familiar voice sounded behind him, and he could feel the hot breath on his ear as it spoke. "You thought you could defeat me so easily? it whispered with a small laugh. Harry struggled against the figure's grasp, but the grip on his hair only tightened. A point of wand ran across his throat, sending chills down the boy's spine as the maniacal laughter sounded once more.
“Believe me boy, there will be no magical escapes this time,” The sentence ended with a snarl as the hand shoved Harry forward towards the steps. Spinning onto his back, the boys stared up into the red gleaming eyes that he thought he would never have to see again. Diving for his wand, Harry pulled it from his boot only to have it whisked across the room; clattering to a stop near an angelic statue. All of his hopes seemed to dwindle.
There was that laughter again, reverberating off every wall making it seem like there were thousands of people laughing in chorus at his despair. As Voldemort circled closer, Harry felt his heart beat quicken like the pace of a drum as he tried to scramble backwards. However, he froze when the point of Voldemort’s wand turned on him. “This will be no quick death. I want to hear you beg for mercy,” he hissed raising his wand high above his head. “Cruc-“ Shutting his eyes tight, Harry waited for the pain to come.
Awaking with a start, Harry sat straight up in bed looking around the fuzzy room. For a minute he thought he was still inside the church and that Voldemort was hiding somewhere beyond his impaired vision. However, reaching a hand to his face he noticed that his glasses were missing and was quick to seize for them on the bed side table. Sometimes he forgot just how blind he really was.
Slowing his breathing, he was able to see clearly now and realized he was still in bed in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. Casting a glance out the foggy window, he was unable to tell what time it was due to the black clouds that were now producing heavy bouts of rain and lightning. Sweat was dripping down his thin face, and onto the mess of bed sheets below. His hair was matted to his forehead and produced every which way atop his head. Throughout his nightmare, the sheets had become entangled around his arms, shedding light on why he hadn’t been able to move them in his dream.
Untangling himself, the boy climbed from his bed, stripping himself of the soaked night shirt along the way, and went to rest against the windowsill. This had been one of the many nights he had awoken from a nightmare with such a scare. However, this one had been different from all the rest. Almost too real for his taste. Whatever the case may be, he didn’t like it.
Another wave of nausea came over him, and he leaned his forehead against the cold, rain stained glass, watching the people pass far below in Diagon Alley. Figuring it was sometime after eight in the morning, Harry contemplated going to see the Weasleys that afternoon. After all they had been quite upset when he told them he was moving off for a while. However, he had explained that he needed some time on his own to sort out his own life. They all understood, but Mrs. Weasley still found it hard to let him go.
A clap of thunder sounded overhead, and Harry could feel the windows shaking against its force. Biting his lower lip, he weighed his options and decided that a trip to the Burrow might make him feel a little more at ease. After all, what else was he suppose to do on a rainy day like this one.
Making up his mind, the boy made to head across the room to the open cupboard to find some clothes when a sudden knock at the door stopped him in his tracks. Wondering who would be visiting him so early, Harry made his way to the door instead. Standing with his hand on the cold knob, he wondered whether or not it was safe to open his door. Shaking his head, he knew he was being ridiculous and swung the door open wide. Surprised to see who was standing on the other side, Harry was quick to hide his bare chest behind the door.
credits
[/center] [/blockquote]this app was created by donni [saressa of caution 2.0] & mae [dutchessdavi of caution 2.0]; please do not steal without crediting. lyrics used belong to their respected owners, switchfoot, and the characters are belong to their respected owners as well. thank you :]
