"Now it's time to take this to the next stage," Voldemort whispered to himself, the corners of his lips curled into a sinister grin as he revelled in the chaos he had orchestrated.
Was it morning or night? How much time has passed? Hours or days?
Without any light source, Harry has lost all notion of time, having stayed in the dark room for who knew how long. Every breath was painful and suffocating.
Harry was questioning himself. Was silence always so loud?
The brain was such a painful companion when alone. All it did was make matters worse.
His mind became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Guilt, despair, and self-blame waged war within him.
Time went on.
He found himself drifting into sleep. Alas, those were the worst moments as the nightmares began.
He kept reviving the memory of asking Cedric to grab the Triwizard Cup, and in the next instance, Cedric was dead. Harry would jolt awake in sweat.
As said, the brain was such a miserable machine when one's life was so chaotic.
Today's nightmare was something much more haunting.
It did not end with Cedric's death as the nightmare persisted. The scene shifted from the graveyard to Hogwarts. But instead of the joyful surroundings, it was no different from the graveyard Harry was just in. The school was full of dead bodies. Ron was on the ground, his face frozen in a silent scream. Harry could not bear to look and turned his gaze. But next, he saw Hermione, with no sign of life in her eyes.
There were not just students. His godfather, Sirius Black, lay motionless, his face covered in blood.
Suddenly, Harry saw movement.
To his horror, they all began to move standing upright with their heads down.
Harry wanted to run, but found himself trapped.
Abruptly, they all lifted their heads and stared directly at Harry with their bloody eyes.
In unison, they spoke. "Are you satisfied, Harry. Killing all of us."
All of them took a step and shouted.
"MURDERER"
Another step.
"MURDERER"
It repeated, and now Harry was faced with a wave of dead bodies. He had nowhere to run. It was Ron who jumped on him first, causing him to fall on the ground. There was no rest, as the crowd engulfed him. It was suffocating, and slowly the light was going out.
"NOOOOOOOOO!O" Harry could not hold it any longer and screamed. Harry's tortured sleep was shattered on the spot by his own screams.
His throat felt dry, gasping for air. His body was drenched in cold sweat.
Sadly, his misery was not yet done.
He was no longer alone in the room. The lifeless form of Cedric Diggory was there.
Harry felt his chest tighten. How was this possible?
No. No.
I'm still in a dream. I have to wake up. Harry bit his lip, his teeth digging into the flesh, causing blood to form. This much pain should have been enough to bring him back to reality, but the body remains. He closed his eyes tightly, desperately wishing for the vision to go away. But when he opened them again, the haunting reality remained.
Desperation took over.
"GO AWAY. Arghhhhhh." Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. "You are dead. I saw you die. You should not be here."
Slowly, his shouts diminished and turned into sobs.
All of a sudden, Harry heard another voice. "Why, Harry?"
When he dared to open his eyes, Cedric was no longer on the ground but instead stood just a few meters away with his bloody face. "Why, Harry?" He repeated. "Why did you take me to the graveyard? Why did you have to kill me?"
"I didn't mean for this to happen," Harry cried. Whatever this was, a nightmare, reality, or pure imagination, Harry did not know. All he knew was that the Cedric in front of him felt real.
"I didn't want you to die, Cedric. It was never supposed to end like this. I never intended for you to get hurt. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing," he confessed.
Harry watched as Cedric's face contorted, "The right thing? Bringing me to my death was the right thing?"
Cedric's eyes bore into Harry's. From Cedric's face, blood seemed to erupt from the wound, turning his face more deadly.
"I was not meant to touch the cup, Harry." Cedric's voice grew louder and louder. "But you brought me to a place of death. Why?"
"YOU ARE A KILLER, HARRY."
"KILLER" "MURDERER"
"KILLER" "MURDERER"
"KILLER" "MURDERER"
...
..
.
Harry could not take it anymore. "Yes, I killed you. I'm the one who brought you to your death. Please... just stop."
Something finally gave way, and Harry broke.
In the next room, Lord Voldemort wore a triumphant smile. The boy was finally broken. For days, he kept Harry in the dark room. Isolation and hunger were real catalysts in opening one's mind to the cruelty of violent imagination.
Voldemort had just conjured a fake Cedric to traumatize Harry, and his plan was successful. "Now it's time to take this to the next stage," Voldemort whispered to himself, the corners of his lips curled into a sinister grin.
Two agonizing days later, Harry was a broken shell, just a body living, waiting for death. The door creaked open, revealing the dim light of the outside world. After days of deprivation, the sudden influx of light pierced through Harry's weakened eyes, causing him to squint and shield his gaze.
Lord Voldemort, in his dark green robes, stepped into the chamber and admired the scenery. Harry, disoriented and weakened by the relentless torment, raised his head with pain to look at the dark Lord.
"Only three days in captivity, and this is your state," Voldemort mused.
"What would you do if you ever find yourself inside Azkaban?" The dark Lord's question did not have any effect on the fragile Harry.
Voldemort waved his hand, and the rocky chair, which had been Harry's prison, began to move.
"Wormtail, prepare some food and drink for our guest. I don't want wizards to question my hospitality later on," said Lord Voldemort as Harry was finally taken out of this room.