The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from thinking about my past
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i'm never alone
And it's always there to support me
-Daniel
"Harry..." a voice whispers silently in the night. Harry can't see where it's coming from, but the venom dripping from every whispered word makes him shiver and look around frantically in the darkness. "Come here..."
He reluctantly takes a step forward, the voice pulling him away from his safety, into the shadows.
"I am here, I will always be here..." The voice taunts him, and Harry turns around, his breath picking up.
"You can never get rid of me" it hisses.
Harry whimpers in the darkness, and crumbles on his knees, slowly sliding down and pulling his legs to his chest, hugging them with his arms and hiding his head in between his hands. He can't bear this anymore, please, he says, his voice weak and thin in the darkness "Please just leave."
A cold laugh echoes around Harry, who shivers. His closed eyes open to their own accord, and trembling, he raises his head, somehow already sensing what he was going to see.
But he is met with more darkness.
Suddenly, a pair of red eyes open in front of him, and Harry jumps back, startled and afraid. He is shivering but not from the cold enveloping him, no, but because of the realisation that he is never going to escape. He wasn't ever going to be free from this. Never.
The voice laughs along to his thoughts, the sound reverberating in the darkness as faces start appearing around Harry, who whimpers and burrows his head further into his arms. "I'm sorry-" he starts, his voice bearing all of his desperation, but the voice merely laughs, soon joined by multiple voices mocking Harry.
"Sorry doesn't cut it." A harsh voice says from in front of him, and it's different from the biting and hissing voice, and Harry feels like he should know it. "Look at me when I talk to you." The voice commands harry, and he opens his eyes as if there was a force controlling him. He whimpers, no he doesn't want to look, he doesn't want to see who it is in front of him. He doesn't need a reminder of all the things he had caused in the war. But his head tilts upwards, until it meets with a familiar face, almost lost in the gloom of the infinite room.
But Harry recognises the man standing in front of him, as well as the hordes of people standing beside him, shoulders touching and looking at Harry with a mix of anger, disappointment, and mere disgust. He moans, distressed, as the figures move closer to him, as if marching, hordes of mindless people guided by instinct and hatred.
"You failed us all, Harry." Fred says, on the right side of his uncle. His face is half burnt off, and Harry doesn't want to look at the destruction he had caused, so he looks to the other side.
