Harry and I stumbled back as the door creaked open, a putrid smell filling the air. He made a sound like; "Echiah!" while I fell to the sickly looking floor in a painful coughing fit.
The sight inside the door was truly gruesome. A massive troll was laying on the floor, a lump the side of a football sticking out like a giant red ball on it's head. It's club lay ten feet away, from tip to handle, it was bigger than Harry and as wide as both of us.
We skirted around the horrid creature, and I realised what I had before taken to be rough carvings in the stone wall, were actually the lines carved from when the troll had swung it's gianormous club. Gulping, I watched as Harry opened the the next door, wand out should anything attack.
Harry and I burst into the room, preparing to duel. Only there was nothing there.
"What the hell? Are we going to duel a potion?" I asked, stowing away my wand.
"I think this is more troublesome than any type of Dragon, look at this!" Harry shoved a note at me, and startled, I read;
"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right,
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."
"I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure we're doomed," said Harry, staring apprehensively at the nearest bottle.
"It's alright," I said, mostly to my self, "'Neither dwarf or giant holds death in their insides' so we can trust the midgets and big ones."
We moved around the tables, collecting the various short and tall bottles, leaving three bottles left over.
"Seperate poisonous and deadly; check. Now we need to do the sniff test."
Harry was about to ask open his mouth when I popped open the lid of the nearest bottle and lowered my nose to the rim. The toxic scent over-whelmed me and my vision swirled round, bouncing as it did so.
"It isn't poisonous is it?" Harry asked, grabbing my arms to steady me.
I waved him away groggily, and answered him with a question, "Phew! How long was this down here? A century? Narcissa's wine was bad enough and that was only twenty years!"
I stoppered the bottle before I could absorb any more of the Nettle Wine's noxious odour. "Just the wine."
Picking up the next bottle, I gave it to Harry to sniff -I had yet to regain feeling in my nose- and he called out, "No odour!"
"Pass it here!"
I took a sip, and I shuddered as the feeling of swallowing ice-cold water flushed through me. When I realised I wasn't dead, I walked over and put my hands into the purple flames that lead back the way we'd come.
"Ouch!" Cradling my burnt fingers, I passed it to Harry, saying, "Save enough for me! I can already feel the effects wearing off."
But unexpectadly, the bastard gulped the lot down and looked me in the eye. "Rhya, it's too dangerous, I'm going to be facing down Snape in there, maybe even Voldemort! No, I don't care if I shouldn't say the name, stop flinching! What I'm trying to say is; he killed my parents, and if Voldemort gets the stone he's going to come after me too. You're safe, he doesn't know about you. I have to do this alone, Rhya."
I looked curiously after him as he took a breathe and stepped through the black flames. The boy who killed my father cared about my safety, when his own was at stake too. There were two choice options for me now; I could go with him and act to my father's aid. Or I could could go with Harry, act for completly unselfish reasons, such as rescuing humanity, and save the world.
Yeah, life was easier when I was five. I still found, despite the answer seeming obvious, the descion to be hard. My dad, or billions of lives? If I were to choose the latter, I'd be wiped off the family tapestry and declared a Blood-Traitor.
Finally, I convinced my self that I wasn't acting for Harry -Potter- only that it would probably hurt if he were to die too painfully with this bond still intact.
I refilled the potion he had taken and gulped it down, then, jogging slightly, rushed through the flames. At first there was nothingness, and I used that space to make myself invisible, but then thigs started to come into focus, slowly and blurrily. I had feeling in my feet, and I began to see figures.
When I could move, I turned my head to stare at the corner of the room. There, standing unaturally straight, was my twin. I ignored anything and everything else in the room except him, and jogged silently over. I only stopped to mutter a "tough luck for you" to Harry as I passed, before I reached Marcal.
I knew at once that something was wrong. First of all, there was no connection. I couldn't get to his thoughts, read his mind or talk to him. There was only a blank space, dark and entagling. Secondly, his eyes were unfocused, glazed over, whatever, they were unseeing. And thirdly, he was standing up straight! Marcal had often gone off at me over back posture, but always stayed slouched over himself.
Just then, a high pitched voice echoed around the room, and I turned, goosbumps spreading up my arms and legs. Quirrel was there, not Snape, and he was unwrappingis dark purple turban slowly, then, when he turned around, I felt like I was about to throw up.
Every essence of my body screamed at me to run as I looked at the palest of faces, groteque in fury, pain and hate. I gasped as I realised this was my father; I'm part of this monsters blood. I was a hideous monster too. Just through birth, I'd become the spawn of the most evil creature on Earth.
The red eyes with slit pupils roved the room, as if expecting somebody else to pop out. Well it's mad if He thinks I'm showing myself.
"The boy! He has the stone!" The body Quirrel was sharing lumbered towards Harry, wand raised.
"HARRY!" I screamed it unconsiously, and he reached into his pocket, drew out a blood red stone and threw it to me.
It was a perfect shot. The crystal tumbled in a low arc, spinning through the air. And guess what? I missed it.
The Philosophers stone clattered to the floor several feet away, and a few things happened at onece;
I dashed for the stone, stumbling over my robes to move with a haste that I was not capable of, Quirrel flicked his wand and Marcal leapt at me, hands in fists, Harry grapped Quirrel's wrists forcing him away.
Then my twin brother did something I would never had expected. He hit me. It didn't stop with the once though. Mutiple fists beat down upon me and I curled up as emotional and physical pain flooded through me. Two jabs to my face and eye left black spots zooming through my viosion and I started to panic. If I died, it would be over, my attempt to save everyone had doomed us all.
I felt the stone under my curled fingers and my pinky brushed a serated edge of it, a warm feeling spread up my arm and brought a beautiful joy that left me breathless and giggling but once it had consumed my whole body it vanished, leaving me in a hopeless depression, before that too faded and I was left hurt and normal.
As if through a shield of thick steel, I heard a yell of a word that probably meant something, but my injured mind could only process the words themselves; "Harry! HARRY!"
Then my brother's fist hit the side of my head, and there was a flash of white followed by a brilliant black... then it was over. I was gone.
I'm tempted just to leave it now and have this at the ending....
Vote, Comment and Fan, then maybe I'll bother to upload.