Set Fire to Rain

A scream ripped out somewhere. It echoed off of the walls ,reverberating everywhere. It was a blood curdling, hair raising scream that I never wanted to pass beyond my ear drums again. Everything fell silent. Then the scream again. My mind was spinning in circles, millions of thoughts, images and incoherent bits of information speeding past me. I tried to get a grip on reality but could barely get past the haze of my own mind. Something was constantly nagging at me- like a rock being thrown against my brain over and over. Something was trying to climb the mountain of haze.
Slowly my thread of thoughts began aligning in front of me, and I began to come too. Sense by sense, my body began to awaken. First was sound, and all I could hear was ragged breathing coming from somewhere near me, like a wild dog that had just been chased down by hunters. Then smell. I nearly retched at the rancid smell of wherever I was. It smell like death and human excrement. Feeling was the next thing to come to me and I immediately wished it hadn’t. I felt like there was molten lava in my veins, like there was venom in my throat. I could then taste the blood in my mouth, and came to the conclusion that it had been me screaming. Yes. There was a room, dark and freezing somewhere I didn’t know. There was nothing in it, nothing but the chains that I hung from by my wrists. My blood crusted, pus infested wrists. They didn’t hurt so much as the lava running through me.
I couldn’t lift my head. I was far to weak for that, so instead I opened my eyes and glanced up. A woman stood in front of me. She had long, never ending black hair, and she was dressed in black. Her face was pale as the moon, and distorted by some kind of madness that I was slowly beginning to feel myself. Half of her face was paralyzed, always frowning. She could have been beautiful if she didn’t walk with a limp, and if she didn’t have half a moving face.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked me, in sharp, but slurred speech. I ignored her, closing my eyes and trying to fall back into the darkness where I was safe. “Do you know who I am?” she demanded louder. From the tone in her voice I could tell she was on the verge of hurting me again.
“Piss off,” I said in a cracked voice, coughing and spitting my own blood on the floor. I yelled as a blade of fire came down across my back.
“You will answer my questions, you little bitch. Do you know who I am?”
I looked at her. “No.”
She didn’t seem surprised. “Of course you wouldn’t. You didn’t bother to look at me the night you tortured me, or the night you killed my love. Or the night you murdered my son.”
It struck me then. “Hmph,” I muttered. “Those curses I used on you should have left you nothing but a vegetable. Guess I was wrong.”
I knew that I should speak to a captor that way, but the beast I had kept so long at bay in school was pacing back and forth, pulling on the leash. It was ready to be free. The blackness in my heart was beginning to drown the small light that had just recently been placed there. The anger that had ebbed for but a small time began to swell with pride.
“They almost did, you little git. But my beloved son- the son you murdered- he saved me. Which is why I will avenge him, just like I promised. You’re going to be sorry you murdered him.”
I laugh then, sending myself into a fit of coughs. The laugh sounded manic and I felt the beast break free. “Lady, I would kill your son a hundred times again, each a different way. He was weak and stupid. Do you know how he died? He died from the very creature he brought to life. He killed himself. And you’re no better.”
Pain ripped through my body but I just found myself laughing at it. It didn’t hurt anymore. I was a death eater. I could go through this unscathed. I had learned to die a long time ago. It was my job.
The woman seemed enraged that I was laughing now and trying everything she could thing of to gain more screams from me, but all she got were useless taunts. I could see the crazed look in her eyes and I knew that I really had screwed her up. I didn’t care.
She left me after countless hours of trying to break me. I hung there by my bleeding wrists, by my bruised and bloody body. I probably looked like a rotting corpse but I didn’t care. I needed to get out of these chains and finish doing something I should have a long time ago. I should have just killed the witch along with the rest of her family. Voldemort did always say to never leave loose ends. I had no idea how I could have ever doubted him.
I didn’t know how long it was until I faded into sleep or just passed out, but I did eventually, and faded into darkness thinking of different ways to escape the grasp of a mad woman.
*
Harry

Something was wrong. That much I knew. My scar burned like the fires of Hell, causing me to sit erect in my bed, covered in sweat. I was trying to think of what I had been dreaming of, but I was almost sure I hadn’t been dreaming at all. I glanced at the clock and noticed that I had only been asleep for ten minutes before my scar burned. That was unordinary, even for me.
Ron was snoring sound asleep in the bed next to me. slipping my glasses on, I grabbed my wand and the map. I muttered, “lumos” and instantly flipped to the Slytherin common rooms. Draco was in his dorm, not moving. Clearly he wasn’t doing anything, and neither was- I paused. Reagan’s name wasn’t on the map in the dungeons. Flipping through the map, I searched for her name, becoming increasingly alarmed that it was nowhere to be seen. Slipping on shoes, I knew I needed to check the room of requirement.
It felt like it took forever to get there, when really it had only taken me a few minutes to reach the right place. The wall began to shape and sift into the room of requirement when I paced back and forth in front of it. Taking a nervous breath, I walked into the room. it was filled with clutter and things that countless wizards had left behind or hid.
“Reagan!” I called loudly, hearing the echo reverberate off the walls. Silent was the only answer. I suddenly got a feeling in my stomach that I did not like at all. Something wasn’t right. I quickly walked through the mazes of junk, turning my head left and right.
That’s when it happen.
A fit of pain came over me in the middle of the room, hitting me in square in the chest, knocking me off my feet as if someone had hit me with expelliarmus. Fire and stinging racked through my body out of my scar, and I was blinded by pain. But it wasn’t my own pain- I could feel it through my connection with Reagan. That much I knew. I felt something else to, something I only felt when my connection with Voldemort was at it’s peak. It was the raw, black anger that felt untamed and bestial, the anger that exploded in me like bombs. I wanted to kill. I didn’t know who or what, I just knew that I wanted to kill something in that moment.
And then it was gone as quick as it came. It left me breathless and lying on the floor staring up at the tall ceiling. Something was very wrong with Reagan, I knew that much. The urge to kill wasn’t my own, and neither was the rage. It came bursting from my forehead and into me like when visions of Voldemort came to me. I didn’t know where she was, or what was happening, but I knew I had to do something in that moment.