Lethal Darkness

Lethal Darkness

By Snitch Builder

Chapter One

The Awakening

"Fancy thinking the beast is something you can hunt and kill"

William Golding Lord of the Flies

Darkness. Black, cloying darkness that penetrates the mind and removes the physical body. Harry took off his glasses and wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and peered into the blackness. The tunnel had been sealed for over three hundred years, but after a stupid bet with Malfoy, it was now open. For hours now, he had been crawling slowly down the tunnel and still he could not find the end of it. He looked back. A tiny pinprick of light indicated where the mouth of the tunnel was: a beacon of hope in the blackness.

He felt like such a fool at this point, because he had lost his only source of protection: his wand. He could do with it now, as the Lumos spell would have been ideal. But things happen, and now he continued his slow crawl down the tunnel in complete darkness - unarmed and alone.

For some inexplicable reason, the temperature was slowly rising, and then his hands found something on the floor that was anything other than the dirt he had been feeling. It was like a plastic tube had been welded to the floor, but it was not plastic. It felt ... warm, ridged, as if regular coils had been wrapped around it. He moved his hands further along. More of the plastic was found. Moving his hands from side to side, he found that the plastic covered the walls as well as the floor. It felt slimy, damp, as though it was generating the heat from within itself.

He stumbled slightly as he moved onto the plastic. Then, he sensed something moving in the tunnel just in front of him and he stood up. Something hissed, and moved: a chitinous sound, like Doxey's in a bag. Goose pimples erupted down his neck and down his back as the foul stench of carrion drifted from the darkness. More sweat beaded on his forehead and ran into his eyes, making them sting once more. A realisation hit him with the power of a thunderbolt: he had matches! Trembling, he fumbled beneath his robes and quickly located the small cardboard box that contained the implements that would have the ability to drive away the dark.

Taking a match, he struck it against the rough edge of the box. Sparks jumped, but no flame. He struck again: the sparks illuminating the tunnel for an instant with a yellow flash. Third time - light. The flame brightened, then dimmed slightly as the flame steadied on the wood of the match. Harry moved the flame out in front of him and it lit the corridor before him for a short distance. The dark grey plastic lined the entire tunnel from floor to ceiling. It looked like great loops of intestine had been solidified and stuck to the rock. But it didn't look as though it was composed of anything mixed in a laboratory; it seemed ... secreted! But secreted by what? Another hiss came, and Harry peered into the darkness beyond the match's light. The light glinted off something, and he moved deeper into the tunnel to see what it could be. A sharp pain at the end of his fingers caused him to drop the match and the darkness enveloped him once more. He quickly lit another match as the sound of whatever it was came a little closer; claws could be heard tap, tap, tapping on the secreted material.

The flame erupted from the new match and in the distance, light glinted off something else: teeth - long, needle-sharp teeth at least two metres from the floor. In the feeble light of the match, Harry could see the teeth were owned by something large and black. Its banana-shaped head was huge, smooth, but devoid of eyes. Shining like black glass in the light from the match, it moved towards him, swaying from side to side, swishing a huge ridged tail like a cat about to pounce. Claws on the ends of long arms reached forward. The lips of the thing parted to show the full length of the teeth, and then the mouth opened to reveal another set of teeth behind the first set. The inner teeth then moved out slowly, purposefully, on a long bony rod. Gelatinous drool dropped from its mouth and Harry could smell its carrion breath as it pulled the toothed rod back into its mouth. Suddenly, it lunged at Harry, far too quickly for something so huge. It grabbed him round his waist and the inner teeth exploded from its mouth on the rod to punch through Harry's chest, releasing gouts of blood from his shattered heart and then ...

... Harry woke up and clutched at his sternum. He was having great trouble breathing and he was sweating profusely. He had kicked the bedcovers to the floor, and his pyjamas stuck to his body in a soaking mess. Ron stared at him from his own bed and Harry painfully moved his head to look at him.

'Another nightmare?' Ron asked cautiously.

Harry's scar burned fiercely and it felt as though the thing in his nightmare was bursting from it. The blood pounded round in his head like a steam train as he fought to find the right words to say.

'Y-yes,' Harry stuttered as this was all he could manage.

'Why wont you tell us what they are?' Ron enquired.

Harry looked at his friend and smiled weakly at him. The last thing he needed now was to make himself look a fool for being worried about a silly dream.

''Cos they're nothing,' Harry lied. 'A dodgy prawn ball, that's all.'

'But they have been going on now for a month,' Ron said angrily. 'Every bloody night it's the same: you start by arguing with Malfoy, then you mutter stupid things about losing your wand while kicking out, making your bedclothes fall on the floor. And then, you scream out loud, waking us all up.'

Harry looked at the other people in the dormitory, who by now were all sitting up and looking sternly at him through bloodshot eyes.

'If this goes on for much longer,' Seamus spat, 'I'm going to ask for you to be locked in a cupboard somewhere.'

Harry shuddered as he remembered how for the first eleven years of his life, he lived in a cupboard under the stairs in his uncle's house.

'Okay,' Harry whispered nervously, 'I'll go and see Madam Pomfrey in the morning. Perhaps she will have something for me.'

'I have something for you,' Seamus muttered, as he got back beneath his covers. 'A wand up yer fundament, that'll give you something to think about.'

The morning burst open in a torrent of rain, rattling up the windowpane as though to smash it wide open. Harry had not gone back to sleep, but had gone down to the common room to sit on the sofa in front of the dead fire. Lavender was the first to come down from the girls' dormitory and she screwed her face up at the smell of stale sweat from Harry.

'You had another nightmare?' she asked as she sat in an armchair opposite him.

'Yes,' he replied glumly and pulled his knees in tighter to his chest.

'You know you ought to go and get them seen to. Ron is really looking ill through lack of sleep. I mean, he didn't even want to stay up with me last night like we used to.'

'But what can they do for me? There is nothing that can be done about the dreams. It's not my fault I have a problem digesting my food.'

'But I think they go deeper than that. I know you've tried different things, but I think you should confront the dreams. You know the whole school looks up to you, especially when it comes to your dreams. Look at the last six years, and each time you have had nightmares, they have come true, in one way or another. Why wont you tell anyone about them? Talking about them might bring on the solution. Trust me.'

Harry looked at the girl, who smiled back at him. He knew he stank at the moment, and he needed a bath, but Lavender was speaking sense. She got up and made her way to the portrait hole and Harry watched her with disinterest as she disappeared through it.

With great effort, he got up and made his way to the boys' bathroom. Choosing a bath on the far side of the room, he ran the water, and got in. He lay in the hot soapy water and let his head go partially beneath the surface. As the water rushed into his ears, it deadened the sounds around him, making it seem he was alone in his own private universe. The vaulted ceiling above him danced with shadows from the everlasting torches hanging from the walls in their wrought iron brackets. Harry closed his eyes, and Lavender came into his mind. She was standing in front of him, smiling sweetly as she held her arms open wide as though to invite him to embrace her. She was a pretty girl, with her long slender legs and trim waist, but she was Ron's girl. However, this didn't stop him from thinking of her in that way.

The thought excited a part of his body a little, but then the image of her changed. Her face contorted in pain and she fell over backwards. She writhed around on the ground, grabbing at her chest, and kicking wildly. She tore open her blouse, exposing her breasts, but something else was there: a bulge appeared from behind her ribcage, then subsided a little as the girl gave a primeval scream that ripped through his very soul. She clutched at her chest, and then the bulge came back, but bigger this time. Through the stretching skin of the girl, something was trying to get out. Lavender screamed as the thing burst from her body; a thick snake, slick with blood and gore, with a huge mouth, but no eyes, as big as Harry's arm erupted from the dying girl. It uncoiled itself from her wrecked chest and screamed at Harry with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth...

Harry sat bolt upright in the water, choking after some of it had gotten into his mouth. He felt sick and depressed. At least he was alone at the moment, so when the tears started, he didn't have to hide them. Life was so unfair! Why was it up to him to carry this burden? The latest dream was nothing to do with an undigested prawn ball, lodged somewhere in his stomach, as he was hungry and wanted breakfast. So what were the dreams all about? To stifle his cries, he shoved the bath sponge into his mouth and wept bitterly. He was becoming a wreck, and it was not what he had wanted. Not what he wanted at all. He couldn't cope any longer and wished his life would come to an end.

The other students had already finished breakfast when Harry entered the Great Hall. He glanced quickly round the room of chattering students and was relieved to see Lavender sitting in her usual place next to Ron so he made his way stiffly across to them. When he sat down, Lavender smiled sweetly at him, and Ron gave her a nudge. Her smile made Harry go cold suddenly as it was the same smile he had seen in his dream in the bath. To be certain, he looked down and stared at Lavender's chest, but he could see no bumps apart from the one's that should be there. Ron took offence at this and prodded Harry with his fork.

'Oi, perv,' he snapped.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Ron. 'Sorry. I wasn't ... I mean ... I don't ...'

Harry just sighed and got up.

'You not having any breakfast again?' Hermione asked with a concerned tone to her voice.

'N-no,' Harry replied. 'I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey. See if she can help me sleep.'

'I'll come with you,' Parvati piped up.

'No, thanks, but I can manage on my own,' Harry said quietly.

'But I think you could do with the support,' she said as she stood up. 'You look a mess, and I won't take no for an answer.'

Harry sighed deeply and Parvati took his hand gently. He had always had a soft spot for the darker skinned girl, and feeling her soft hand in his, made him feel a little stronger.

They sat in Madam Pomfrey's office and she began to ask him questions about the dreams. He was very reluctant to speak of them at first, but eventually, they were coaxed out of him by the gentle pleadings from Parvati.

When he had finished, Madam Pomfrey had gone very pale, and Parvati had her hand over her mouth as a tear ran down her cheek.

'No wonder you haven't been sleeping,' Madam Pomfrey announced. 'I don't know if we have anything strong enough to knock you out long enough, so I think we need a little more help. Stay here, both of you while I fetch Professor Dumbledore.'

She got up and bustled out the room, slamming the door behind her. Parvati sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

'Do you think they can help?' Harry asked.

'I hope so,' Parvati replied quietly. 'If I were having dreams like that, I think I would have gone mad by now.'

Harry had to agree, but was he made of stronger stuff than "normal" people? Lets face it, since when was Harry normal, even when compared to the rest of the Wizarding world. Why was he able to face Voldemort, and sleep, but then a silly dream keeps him awake?

On one wall of the office, a tall mirror hung. Harry stood up and looked at himself in it. What presented itself was not the fine figure of a seventeen year old youth, but an old man, with skin as white as a newly laundered sheet, black rings surrounded sunken eyes, and his hair had never looked so untidy and greasy.

Madam Pomfrey returned, closely followed by Dumbledore. Harry turned in their direction and smiled when the old wizard put his hands on Harry's shoulders.

'Now Harry,' he said slowly, 'Madam Pomfrey tells me you have been having some quite nasty dreams.'

'Y-yes, Professor,' Harry replied timidly.

'Well, I know you don't want to tell them again, but I think I should take a look at them directly.'

'How do you propose to do that?'

'When you fall asleep, I can join you in your dream. Maybe there is some detail you are missing out on that could lead us to an explanation as to what is causing them.'

'Do you think it could work? I have tried all sorts of potions and stuff that Hermione has been kindly brewing up for me, but nothing seems to work.'

Because the dreams were becoming more powerful, Harry felt that he would never close his eyes again. But seeing his reflection for the first time in a month, he realised how ill he had become, so anything was worth a try.

Dumbledore arranged for Harry to use a side room in the Hospital Wing and when he lay down beneath the stiff sheets after getting dressed in pyjamas, he felt safe and warm. Parvati had been given permission to have the day off lessons to sit with him throughout the experiment, and now she sat on a chair next to his bed, holding his hand. Dumbledore entered the room and he took off his robe to reveal his nightgown, which was dark blue with silver planets and stars printed across it.

'Sorry, Miss Patil, I do hope you are not offended by my night attire,' he said.

Parvati giggled a little and shook her head. Dumbledore got in the bed next to Harry's and held out his hand.

'Take my hand, Harry,' he said slowly, and Harry took the old wizards hand. 'Now, you must sleep. When you start to dream, I will be able to enter it and observe for myself.'

Harry was very tired and he turned to look at Parvati. Her smiling face was like a sweet vision, and he wanted to stare at her all day. But his eyes were telling him a different story and they forced themselves closed. He caught a last glimpse of her face, which seemed to get further and further away, with a sickly grey fog covering it. The noises from the ward echoed round and round as if blown around in the wind. The wind got stronger, howling into a gale, blowing Harry to and fro, trying to knock him off his feet.

In front of him, a hole in a tall wall that had been blasted out with a powerful wand-arrow, opened up into a dark recess. He looked around as he remembered Dumbledore should be with him, but there was no sign. He pocketed the six galleons he had just collected from Malfoy, and hoping Dumbledore would be in the tunnel, he crawled through the jagged hole in the bricks. Dirt stuck to his fingers and the wind from outside eddied in the tunnel, pricking at his face.

The crawling began, and he reached for his wand to light the darkness ahead, but as usual, it was not in the waistband of his trousers where it normally is. Crawling, crawling. An hour. Two hours. Who knows? The darkness gripped him, trying to pull his eyes from their very sockets. His hands could not be seen, making him feel as though he was invisible.

He reached the plastic secretion on the floor. Heard the hiss from the monster that would kill him. He didn't want to see it! He pinched himself, made his arm bleed. The matches! Where are the matches! He fumbled around inside his robes, found the box. He struck the match and on the third attempt, the light shone into the darkness. Another idea hit him. He ran the flame over the back of his other hand, feeling the pain of burning flesh. Wake up! Wake up, damn you, he thought. The hiss came again, but this time it was mixed with a voice; a female voice, soft and gentle, calling to him from somewhere above. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he spun round and could see nothing. The monster's hiss came again, and something powerful raked his back and he felt the flesh peel away from his bones...

He snapped bolt upright, holding his chest, feeling blood run down his back, but then realised it was just the sweat. Madam Pomfrey stood at the end of his bed with wide, frightened eyes. Parvati was still clinging to his sweaty hand and she was crying; tears ran down her face, staining her white blouse. Dumbledore suddenly sat upright and shook his head.

Harry's head hurt worse than ever. It felt like there was too much blood in his head for his brain to contain it. His pyjamas had glued themselves to him like a second skin, and he felt sick. He brushed the hair from his forehead that was sticking irritably to the sweat.

'I saw the monster,' Dumbledore said slowly. 'And I know where in the castle the doorway is.'

'But, why do I know about it?' Harry gasped. 'I've never seen the doorway, or read about it. I read Hogwarts: a History years ago - I got sick of Hermione going on about it - but I can't recall ever seeing it mentioned where a black monster hid in a dark tunnel.'

'I don't know,' Dumbledore replied. 'I think we should investigate it as soon as possible.'

Harry didn't like the idea of this very much. 'Are you kidding! What ever is in that tunnel is very powerful. It has been grabbing me every night now for a month, and what I feel could tear you in half with a simple twitch.'

'But what if there is nothing, and we put your ghosts to bed? Would that not be a better idea?'

Harry wanted to go along with this idea, but under no circumstances was he going in the tunnel alone. He would rather not go in at all, but perhaps there could be a grain of sense in the plan.