The Snake and the Emerald Apple

The Goblet of Fire

Harry sat in the darkness on the cold, damp ground. He heard water dripping, an irritating sound that he couldn't filter out now that he was alone. Instead, he continued to hear the repetitive drip, the hollow echo seemed even more insignificant in the immense void he now found himself in. He welcomed the silence, however, it was a pleasant change from the chaos of the previous night's big party.

When Harry closed his eyes, he could still hear the screams and panicked voices, getting louder and louder just to keep drowning out each other. He grimaced at the thought of those frightened faces that had appeared on hearing the Prophecy.

Harry snorted, "Cowards," he thought disdainfully.

They were all spineless scaredy-cats who panicked at the slightest sign of danger. Even Hermione, who had always spoken negatively about Professor Trelawney, had turned white. Ron had stopped eating and had a similar reaction to the one he had at the Halloween party their freshman year; apparently, a prophecy was similar to a dangerous mountain troll.

The reactions of the professors, as the Headmasters present, were most disappointing to him. Karkarov had immediately stood up and refused to set foot in Hogwarts as long as the support beam was still in place. Even Snape, who always kept his expressions perfectly neutral, had been arguing with furious gestures with Dumbledore—who, in turn, seemed perfectly at ease, as if there had just been a shocking break from the feast. Anyway, that same man had thought it wise to place a Cerberus behind a door that could be opened with a simple 'Alohomora'; perhaps the old man wasn't that sane anymore.

Harry focused again on the drip, on the emptiness it represented. There was no strange, self-fulfilling, prophecy here- no screaming students, or hot-headed adults, here was just darkness and Harry.

Through the lashes of his eyes, he peered across the room, taking in the various shapes of shadows and objects. He was about to sink completely flat to the ground when he saw a faint flicker of light.

Sitting upright, he opened his eyes. After a few blinks, he realized it wasn't a figment of his imagination, but a light that seemed to come from fire. Curious, he got up and walked towards the light. His wet pants, wet from sitting on the damp floor, rubbed uncomfortably against his thighs. The steps of his feet could be heard on the damp stone floor, making extra noise in the quiet environment.

Harry turned the corner and could feel the warmth of the fire against his skin. He immediately saw that the fire was controlled, a nicely built hearth kept the crackling fire in check. His gaze was drawn to a bed in front of the hearth, bathed in the flickering orange glow of the fire.

He saw a figure lying on top of the bed. The person was not lying quietly, no, he was writhing and moaning as if he were being subjected to a Crucio. As Harry came closer he realizes that the sounds were not of pain, no, these were sounds of lust; sounds Harry had never heard before, but instinctively knew they belonged to a violent wet dream. He felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn't avert his gaze. He looked with fascination at the writhing figure, now half-naked on the bed.

He recognized the boy on the bed with a start, his low moan sounding horny in the empty space. Harry took another step closer and saw that he was looking at himself, lying on his bed in Riddle Manor. He stared at the abstract image he made himself, he saw how his black hair stuck to his forehead, red blushes had appeared on his cheeks, and how his lips gleamed from the wetting of his tongue. He watched as his chest heaved feverishly and his body tensed further.

A small scream escaped his throat when he suddenly saw two pale, spider-like hands curling on his chest. One of those hands with abnormally long fingers wrapped around Harry's throat, effectively smothering the sleeping figure with sustained pressure. Harry wanted him to wake up, to hold back those dangerous hands, but this didn't happen. The sleeping body seemed to enjoy the sluggish actions, spurring to a higher ecstasy.