An icy, horrible felling sweeps through you in a shiver. It crawls
up
your spine and you don't know if you are having a nightmare, or
reliving
the most terrible moments of your life.
Echoes and sights from the past pound your senses, and you question
whether
or not you will ever see the happy times again.
"YOU'LL DO IT IF I HAVE TO BEAT IT OUT OF YOU."
"He's five years old, Lucius."
"Shut your mouth, woman."
He turn around, his fist still raised, and let it fall hard
across
her cheek. The small boy shuddered violently.
"DON'T HURT MUM!" his high voice yelled with out the command
that
he wanted to convey.
"You dare take a tone with me? YOU DARE TO RAISE YOUR VOICE TO
ME,
YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FOOL?"
He again shrank into the corner. His father lifted him by the
collar,
pinning him eye-level against the wall. He felt himself being shaken
hard.
"You're going to be worthless. Absolutely meaningless. A
disgrace."
Hot tears pricked at his eyes. Terror was overtaking every ounce
of
courage in his body.
Gotta get down. Gotta get down. Gotta get down. The thought over
and
over to himself.
The voices grow softer. The cold ebbs away, but the unsettled
happiness
still hovers like a dark cloud. Then the warmth that has returned
fades
away again. Sheets of ice cold rain pour down on you, not numbing
the
frozen feeling as you are left to walk at the end of a stream of
students.
"CRUCIO!"
"NOW, LONGBOTTOM, WHAT DO YOU KNOW?" a young voice screamed
impatiently.
"I-am--not going--to be--V-Voldemort's p--puppet."
"CRUCIO!"
Screams. Cold, pain filled screams.
You hear, but don't understand them. Your father is suffering,
but
you can't understand why. You begin to wail, almost feeling a lost
pain
of your own. Then he stops, but it's not any better.
You hear screaming again. Your mother is screaming. And crying.
Her
screams grow more and more weak ... and more sick. You can hear her
becoming
more and more ill.
"Crucio."
Screams of the most horrible pain imaginable. From your cradle,
you
cry wordlessly for help. The only word you've learned is
"Daddy."
And finally you get inside. Your thoughts are haunting you with
every
step and every sound of every voice.
Again, the misery of the rain brings a horrible, miserable cold.
The
same feelings that break your sweet and trusting nature return. You
shake
uncontrollably recalling the most terrible moment of your
life.
"What am I going to do now? I'm going to be expelled. I can't
remember.
Oh... I have to tell them."
The boy gave her a twisted smile, "Don't worry. Just let it
out."
"What am I going to do. I've got to get out. I have to tell… I
have
to tell Ron…"
She was exhausted and terrified. She felt so weak and so
terrible
that she could hardly sit up anymore.
"TOM, LET ME OUT! YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO! I need to…I…
help—tell…"
she had sunken to the ground, her strength fading rapidly.
All that was left were the twisting images of her mind as the
energy
drained from her.
The shimmering silver form is hardly visible in the pouring rain,
but
you see the blur drive away the dark hooded forms. And you wait for
the
warmth to return.
