Little seer

Chapter 29

He'd been wrong to assume that it could not get worse. Harry realised that now. The feeling that they were trying to send him a message had returned as soon as he had entered this new room.

Did they have a whole series of rooms prepared until the point where he would just be inclined to agree with them?

First there had been the white room. In the short time it had taken for him to be escorted from point A to point B, Weasley senior had explained that the room was supposed to help the healing process along. Harry had commented that while it might hurry the whole thing up, spending too much time in there would make even the most patient person lose their sanity. Then he had moved on to voice his wonder of how long Dumbledore might have spent in there for him to turn out like he had. He had surprised a laugh out of Tonks, though she had quickly pretended that it had only been a cough.

But the symbolic of those rooms removed any humour he had felt effectively. The previous room had been meant to send him the message that he was now among the good guys, after all, white was supposed to be a clean colour, something to strive after to achieve.

Were they not aware of how easy the white shade could be tainted by something else, say red or black?

If Voldemort followed the same kind of belief, he should have his followers hand out cookies in Diagon Alley to convince people to continually support him. That was a rather tempting thought, perhaps he should suggest it the next time he saw Voldemort. Already, he could see it happen. Death Eaters wandering up and down Diagon Alley, Bellatrix holding children at wandpoint and ordering them to grab a cookie from her basket to show their support to the Dark Lord, unless they wanted a taste of her Cruciatus.

The thought made him snort in amusement before he schooled his features back into indifference, unless eventual observers thought that he approved of the room, which could not be any further from the truth.

Not moving from his spot in front of the closed door, Harry's eyes wandered around, taking in the sight of his new setting, unsure if this was just as bad, or worse, than the white room had been.

Whoever had furnished this place had been given free reign, and needed to get their head checked, along with the one whom had decided to bestow them with this task.

He hadn't moved his feet in the past five minutes since he had been let inside, his body tense and ready to run at the first sign of something happening, though he didn't know where he could go in such a matter. The only door in the room was behind him, and he had heard it be locked the moment it closed.

Everything in here was decorated in a mix of red and gold, making Harry want to claw his eyes out, though he knew that it was too late. The memory of the sight was already etched into his mind. The only thing which stood out was the old grandfather watch standing in a corner to his far left, which Harry was glad to see was a normal watch rather than the ones wizards tended to favour. Knowing the time was better than knowing the state of people he probably couldn't care any less about.

The whole room was yelling to him; look at us, we are Gryffindors, the good guys, you want to join us.

The thought was making him feel positively sick.

The walls were painted in a deep red shade, just a few shades short of looking like actual blood. The floor was covered by a worn down carpet, also in red, and the ceiling was made of dark red wood.

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath of air, trying to reign in his nausea and not embarrass himself by vomiting. At this point he doubted that anything but stomach acid would come up, but he could do without the nasty taste in his mouth which would be there afterwards.