Author: C. Night

Rating: PG-13

Category: Action/Adventure

Disclaimer: Anything that you, Harry Potter fan that you are, recognize does not belong to me nor do I claim credit for it. So all you lawyers trying to pick a fight with me... put 'em up cuz I didn't do nuttin & my main squeeze Big-D is in da house to defend me! Dudley Dursey puts up fists, looks around at the lawyers surrounding him, turns to C. Night and whispers "you do know that I don't exist right?" C Night gets shocked expression, gasps and turns to face the insulted lawyers. "Well.... er... ya see..."

Note: I think I am pretty clear with it but just incase people get confused:

'...' indicates thinking &

"..." indicates talking.

Title: Getting Out or Dying Trying

Chapter 1: Demented Vision

December 23rd. You'd think that was a normal day. Ok, maybe not exactly normal, I'll give you the fact that it's pretty close to Christmas, Hanukkah, and all that jazz, but other than that. It's normal, right? WRONG.

December 23rd is, in fact, the day Harry Potter will die. Alright well since I am Harry Potter you could just say I'm being very pessimistic, but no I really think I am going to die today.

I try to move again, but I can't. The air around me is getting very, very cold. I feel my lungs, actually it's more like my soul, freeze and as usual the chilling voice of my mother comes to my ears, I hear her more clearly now than I ever have before.

She screams "Not Harry! Please...have mercy... mercy!"

I wish I could tell her that her screams are not needed, that on that fateful October night I would survive, but my mother. My loving mother- she would not.

Suddenly her screams blend into the softly hissing voice of Lord Voldemort. I am back in the graveyard, back in my fourth year.

"Bow to death Harry," his voice commands and even now chills race down my spine. Even more smoothly than the last time the terrible memories seem to shift. Now it is my own voice I hear. My own voice screaming out in denial, "HE-IS-NOT-DEAD! SIRIUS!"

Then for the first time ever in my experience with dementors, they bring a vision to my eyes. I can actually see the black veil wavering in an unseen wind before my eyes. I am overcome with rage. "NO! Damn it I will not let this happen to me. AHHH!"

In some kind of fury I manage to pry my hands from the ropes magically put there to bind them. "Well tough luck it isn't happening today," I snarl aloud.

With my hands now free I am able to reach for my wand in my wrist holster after all as Moody advised me many, many times over this past summer 'the best place to have your wand is where dumb ass'?? At your fingertips.

I flick my wrist under my robes about 6 times before I realize that although Moody's strategy may be great in actual combat, when you are a prisoner having your wand strapped to the inside of your wrist makes it ridiculously easy for your captors to find it... and take it. I am now wand-less.

"Well that's just wonderful," I say under my breath as I untie my feet with my free hands. I fumble with the ties and they knot under my trembling fingers. The dementors (and I know there are a lot because of the effect they are already having on me even from this distance) are getting closer and I am still tied to a damn chair.

Suddenly I realize something, "I am Harry bloody Potter! I just magically blew the ropes off my freakin hands and here I am making knots around my ankles like some kind of bloody summer- camper!"

Focusing my magic on the ropes I practically leap from the chair once the ropes are gone from my ankles. 'Yeah, I'm free but I am still without a wand and about to face a horde of dementors, all of which seem to be focused on me,' I think.

I look around me desperately trying to figure out how to escape the... cell? 'Yes it appears to be a cell' that I am trapped in. There aren't even any windows... just how exactly did I get in here with no windows or doors?

'What the hell did they do throw me in freakin' Azkaban?' I wonder. But then I realize Azkaban would be a lot older than this place. Wherever I am, I notice, has stone floors and walls, but they look fairly clean. I happen to know for a fact that when stones and bricks like the ones on these walls get a few years old they are very hard to clean. I would know that seeing as Aunt Petunia once volunteered me to clean those on the neighbor's home in order to get rid of me for one of Dudley's birthday parties. Trust me, it took me all of that day and then another three to finish.

So these bricks were pretty new, but that led to other questions like who was building rooms with bricks anymore? I mean we have new building materials these days, my neighbor's house was ancient and they had been living in it for years... that's the only reason they still had bricks.

But here... well perhaps this room is a specially made prison cell. Maybe the rest of the building isn't like this... in fact this room may have been magically added just to hold me. That would explain the no doors and windows thing... if they just built the room around me. And...

That also means that if I were to try to blast a hole into the wall (with my magic of course) I wouldn't be met with more bricks but with linoleum, perhaps even wood.

Suddenly I am overcome with a vision of my mother- her brilliant green eyes wide with terror, red hair ablaze and messily strewn across her face, her mouth open in a silent scream.

I want to cry at the sight. I find myself gasping and with a start realize that I have fallen to the floor. What kind of dementors were these with the power to bring visions of my mother's dead body to my mind. Visions of a dead body which I hadn't even seen in real life... or at least don't remember seeing.

Quite abruptly I decide that I do not want to stick around to examine these dementors. Even though they can't really reach me to suck out my soul seeing as there is no way into this room... but still. So, I focus all of my magic on the ceiling above me. After about a minute of raw magic focused at one spot I realize several things. First, my analysis of the age of the bricks around me can easily be disregarded because of one thing- magic. Who knows how long these bricks are seeing as they can easily be cleaned with a well placed grime removal spell or a good 'Scourgify'.

Thinking of that spell reminds me of my father and although over the past few months I have come to realize that you have to take the good and the bad sides of people you look up to, thoughts of his treatment of Snape still get me mad.

Thoroughly distracted from my current situation, I feel myself getting angry yet again over my father's actions. Who was he to treat Snape that way? Enemy or not seeing my father treat Snape just about as well as Lucius Malfoy treated Dobby will forever infuriate me.

These thoughts in mind I slam the palm of my hand into the wall next to me.

"OW!" I cry out in pain and I feel my eyes stinging as I clutch my throbbing hand to my chest.

Absorbed in my pain I am nearly shocked out of my skin when I hear a soft voice moan, "Ow!" back in my direction.

Alarmed I rise of my position on the cold floor and turn to the wall I had just slammed my hand into. Shockingly, I find that in my rage I had created a rather large hole in the wall. Sending a silent bit of thanks to my dad for being a big enough prick to inspire the rage it took to make that hole in me I step closer to the hole and thus closer to the mystery voice.

"Hello," I whisper and to my astonishment the sound that comes out of my mouth is a low and throaty hiss.

It seems that although I did not consciously know I was addressing a snake somewhere in my subconscious I knew to address the creature in its own tongue. "Come out my friend," I whisper to the snake as I feel the dementors draw ever nearer. "Please come out for I swear that no harm shall come to thee whilst I am near."

Over time and through some very informative experiments I have discovered that addressing a snake in both very quiet tones and an older version of speech (or at least a more broken form of speech) was more effective in getting them to work with you... or have them take you as their master. 'If only that would work with Voldemort' I chuckle as an image of myself quoting Shakespeare at a swooning Voldemort comes to mind.

I can feel the dementors stop in their approach, most likely due to my chuckling so I continue conjuring images of Voldemort and myself speaking in Elizabethan terms to laugh at.

Laughter, it seems, is familiar to the snake I am trying to get to approach me for the beautiful beast peeks its head out from the hole at me. The snake is unlike any other I have seen. Jet black with greenish eyes with a some red and silver scales on its under side the snake reminds me of myself. If the color of the scales had anything to do with it anyway...

"Hello my friend," I say in casual tones to the creature as it slowly slides out of the holes. "Does this place belong to you?"

In my dealings with snakes I have also learned that they consider themselves the rulers of whatever dwelling they habitually stayed in. To them humans were simply some beasts they allowed to reside in their home.

The snake rose as if to strike me but then responded, "I? Tis not I. Master Neolik. Estine, master? Not master, no. Estine endeavored to be master but... no not Estine. Estine not fit... no -"

I was fiercely reminded of Dobby in the manner of this snake. Which in itself was very odd. Snakes, or the ones I had dealt with, were usually fairly submissive but definitely not overly so. But then there was something about this snake... this Estine as he called himself. Something that screamed out to me, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

Once again I was struck with a vision this time of a grave stone being shone on by the moon. The light eerily highlighted the name TOM RIDDLE and I couldn't repress the shuddered which racked through my body.

As soon as I regained control of my eyesight I noticed that Estine the snake had stopped rambling as he had been throughout all of my thinking. Instead the snake had its white-ish green eyes focused on me.

"Human not well." Estine hissed slowly. "Stay away from unwell. Must stay away..."

"No wait!" I cried out at the snake which was turning away from me and facing back toward the hole through which it had come.

In a flash the snake had turned its head back and faced me. Once I had its attention I pleaded with the snake for help.

"Estine please, please help me get out of here. How did you get here? Are there pipes?" I asked the snake desperately.

I knew that the snake couldn't have just crawled though a brick wall, and who would know this place better than a creature that lived in its walls.

Estine lifted himself back up and once again looked into my eyes. "Fear" the snake hissed slowly. "Bringers of fear approach. Human must listen. Estine come from flanking room. Wide room with high & long look but no- goers. Human must crush wall and get to flanking room. The bringers of fear cannot enter the room with look but no-goers."

I was thoroughly confused by some of the snake's language but I understood enough that I knew I had to get into the next room. But how?

Remembering the way I had created the hole I began to focus on all of the memories I had which inspired great anger in me. Standing, I faced the wall with the hole on it and placed my still-aching palm out facing the hole. I then shifted my body so that my stomach and torso were facing the wall perpendicular to the one with the hole and my feet were set on the ground one a good deal in front of the other. My right palm facing the hole and my left bent at the elbow so my hand was near my left ear, I closed my eyes and concentrated on anger.

I could feel something warm developing in my left hand and once I felt I had it in my control I threw it at the wall with the hole in it. That was with my eyes still closed... cuz to be honest I was kinda afraid to look at whatever the hell it was I just made in my hand.

Slightly frightened by the loud noise created, I jumped and slowly opened my eyes. The hole is bigger... but not nearly large enough for me to fit through.

Estine seems very happy about my progress and he hisses happily from his spot in the corner. With a jolt I realize that I actually heard Estine hissing and not speaking so I turn to him.

As he slithers in joyous circles on the floor I realize that Estine is probably making noises that for humans would be the equivalent of "Yay! or Whoopee!". After all these are not really words but just sounds to express joy and I can practically feel Estine's happiness radiating off him.

Looking back at the hole I am not nearly as happy as Estine, it's not large enough and I am starting to get tired. Wand-less magic isn't exactly the easiest thing to keep up and I had been hurling... Merlin knows how much of my magic at a wall for a little while now.

I decided that instead of thinking randomly angry thoughts at the wall I should focus on one. But the problem was though I had been plenty angry during my 16 years of life I really didn't have one particularly furious memory. Except for that time in 3rd year with Sirius but that just seems sort of ridiculous now... and there was a whole bunch of times last year... but those just make me sad looking back.

Then I remember one time I was more angry than I had ever been in my life. It had been last year. We had been in Dumbledore's office getting ready to go to 12 Grimmauld Place to wait for news on Mr. Weasley's condition in the hospital when I had simply looked at Dumbledore and grew furious- but wait! That was Voldemort's anger. Voldemort's fury at Dumbledore. Not my own... but who's to say I can't use it.

So I turned and got into my 'Anger Throwing' position as I began to refer to it in my mind. Legs in a line one pretty far out in front of the other, one palm out in front facing the wall with the ever growing hole (more to keep my balance than anything) and the other bent at the elbow with the palm near my ear. And then I focused.

I remembered the portkey I had been about to take that day in Dumbledore's office. I remembered looking at that blackened kettle as Dumbledore counted to three slowly. I remembered getting the urge to look up at him just to see if he would continue with his stupid and cruel game of not looking at me. And I remembered when our eyes met.

Fury, anger, intense boiling rage, hatred, vile man, disgusting terrible power which must be crushed... CRUSHED! CURSE HIM! DIE! DIE!

Suddenly I realized I was on the floor. Some where in between throwing all of my magic and all of my energy at that wall and somewhere lost in the memory of that day when I was caught in such a raging force of hatred I had collapsed.

My eyes were closed and I felt something cold on my left hand which felt as though an inferno was blazing upon it. I sighed aloud at the cool touch, and opened my eyes.

Estine. Beautiful snake that he was had slid over and very gently curled himself around my hand.

"Master is finished. Flanking room open. Master must go to room. Bringers of fear very very close," Estine hissed at me.

As I struggled to my feet I wondered when I had become 'Master' instead of 'Human' but just brushed it aside. Estine was right after all. The dementors- the bringers of fear that is- were dangerously close. It was all I could do to keep my eyes focused on what was in front of me instead of letting them drift to the visions of terror lingering on the sides of my mind.

It was time to get out of this damned cell...

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Author (C. Night) Notes: Ok well this was originally going to be a nice little one shot thing but somehow Estine got more long winded than I thought he would and Harry seemed to want to discuss his muggle next door neighbors and their choice of brick over linoleum. And I also got sorta tired lol. Let me know if you want me to continue by reviewing please. I have a pretty good idea of where I am going and this "one shot" could get to be a good couple of chapters if you want to read it so let me know. And if you were looking for Dumbledore he will be in this but not for a while yet... after all Harry still has to get out of the damned box.

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