I can't believe I'm doing this. This is madness. This is insane. This is completely foolish considering my theory is based, not on fact, but on pure hunch alone. I hear a faint whimper behind me and turn to it, putting on my most reassuring smile.

"It's alright Kreacher. Everything is going to be okay," I say softly.

I know he isn't convinced, and know that if he could he'd grab my arm and drag me as far away from this place as he could. But I have ordered him here, so here he will stay.

The knife in my hand feels heavy and ice cold to touch. I place the blade over my palm, take a deep breath, and draw it across my skin. The pain is sharp, but felt like barely more than a pin-prick once you were familiar with the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Yet I still I let out a thin hiss of pain and curse myself after a do. It seems I will always be a wimp. Right until the bitter end.

Blood pools from the wound instantly. I pocket the knife and stare at it for a while. Pure-blood. Blood some would kill for. Blood many people did. For most of my life I had been safe in the knowledge that this blood was my calling card, my safety, my right to say and do as I please. It marked me apart from the rest, as better than the rest. I watch the little puddle of red form and acknowledge the new emotion I now felt towards it. Doubt. It had crept up on me unexpectedly one day, quite out of the blue, but had steadily grown until I could no longer ignore my feelings. At the time I had been swiftly climbing up the ranks, almost as high as the Dark Lord's inner circle, which is almost unheard of for someone so young. Only my cousin Bella had ever bested that claim. I was honoured above others, and had loved every minute of it. However, the closer I got in, the more I found I did not like, nor agree with. At first it had started out as just a bit of fun. An opportunity to be free of the laws of the common man. A chance to explore things I could never hope to explore within the usual confines of society. Then the torturing had starting, and the muggle hunting. As ashamed of it as I am, I must admit I had enjoyed it. The feeling of complete power as you make a muggle, a mudblood, or a squib beg for mercy. Deciding if you could be bothered to give it. It had been bliss for a while. Had been. I knew better now.

Soon though things had started to get more serious, more twisted. There were maiming's. And killings. Some, I had seen, met fates worse than death. Once the initial euphoria of finally having control over something in my life I realised something. I didn't like what was happening, it was wrong, and I wanted no further part in it. Yet even then I had still been too cowardly to admit I was in over my head. In the end it had taken something incredibly minor to make me see sense. The Dark Lord's attempt to murder my house elf had ignited a spark within me that had grown into a fire. It was this fire that drove me forwards now as I place my hand onto the rocks in front of me and let my blood coat their grey surface.

Before long, like Kreacher had described to me, the rocks began to move until an opening big enough for me to go through became visible. I stepped through without hesitation. The water was up ahead, like Kreacher had told him, and the boat was pulled up onto the rocks. I pushed the boat into the water, scooped Kreacher up from where he stood beside me and got in. I rowed us to our destination, trying to ignore the familiar prickle of fear that was starting to bloom inside me.

The boat bumped against the island far too soon and I stepped out uneasily. The podium stood in the middle of the island, towering over them on a pile of boulders. I waited until I felt the familiar brush of Kreacher against my legs and knew he had gotten out of the boat before I started to climb up.

"Master, I is not liking this," Kreacher whispered.

"I know what I'm doing, Kreacher," I said over my shoulder, half hoping my words my make me believe I did as well as my house elf.

I reached the top of the rock pile quick enough and stared down onto the podium. It was all there; the bowl, the shell, and the potion. I suppressed a shudder. Then crouched down, until my eyes were level with Kreachers. His eyes were filled with fear. I lay a gentle hand on his bony shoulder and feel him shaking beneath me. I try another smile, but even I have to admit that this time it felt false.

"Right Kreacher. I have some things I need you to do," I say.

Kreacher nods reluctantly. I can tell that he already has a pretty good idea of what I am going to ask of him, and dreads my words. A small part of me feels bad for what I am about to put him through in forcing him to do this. I know it will break him to do it. But I don't have a choice. It has to be me. I have to do this. So I open my mouth to reel off my pre-prepared speech.

"I need you to make sure I drink the whole potion." Kreacher immediately begins sobbing. I raise my voice a little louder. "No matter how much I want it to stop, not matter how much I beg you to make it stop, I need you to make sure I drink it all." Kreachers sobs turn to open wails. "Then I want you to take the locket, replace it with this and do all that you can to see that the original is destroyed. Don't stop until it is destroyed." I pull out an exact replica from around my neck, containing a note that said what I had done. I force it into Kreacher's hand. Then I take a deep breath and deliver the killing blow. "I want you to leave this place as soon as you have it. Don't wait for me, or try to stop what happens to me afterwards. Just leave and destroy it. That is an order. I'll be as good as dead anyway once the Dark Lord discovers what I have done so you won't be doing me any favours by saving me. Can you do that for me Kreacher?"

By now the elf was rocking back and forth, all qualms about dignity forgotten.

"Can you do that for me?" I repeat earnestly, needing his assurance.

Eventually he manages a slight jerk with his head, which I take to be a nod. I sigh sadly. "I am sorry for this," I whisper.

Then I'm up and standing next to the podium, with the shell in my hand ready to plunge into the liquid. It felt weird to be about to do this. To betray the man I had hero worshiped since childhood. It was strange how the world works sometimes. I cast one last wistful look round, knowing that these will probably be the last sane moments I ever experience. Before I lose my nerve I drop the shell into the liquid and drain it in one gulp.

I feel the effect immediately. It was like drinking ash. It coated my mouth, drying it, and made me gag. The next cupful is like sand and scrapes the back of my throat. Then it's tiny shards of glass that cut my insides as it goes down. Ice that fills me to the core. The fifth is molten fire that burns through the ice, yet never melts it. At six my whole body spasms, my muscle clench together so I double over in pain. Each mouthful adds a new layer of pain. I lose count after ten. At some point my arms stop working and my vision starts to blur. Yet still the potion keeps coming. I want it to stop. I beg for it to stop. I can't remember where I am. More potion. I want to go home. I need to or I'll die. Still more potion. I know someone is with me but I can't remember who and I can't see their face. More and more potion. The someone keeps giving me the potion. I hate them. I try to hit them. Doesn't work. My head hurts. Chest hurts. Everything hurts.

Potion. Potion. Potion.

I want to die.

Then it stops. Blink. It's over. I'm glad. Happy. But thirsty. Very very thirsty. Water. Must have water. Need water. Must find water. See water. Lots and lots of water. Must drink. Will make it better. Stumble over. Step. Step. Step. Fall. Crawl. Bend. Drink. Gulp. Swallow.

The water is nice. The nicest thing I've ever tasted. I start to feel better. The fog in brain lifts a little. I can see better, but I still can't remember where I am. Or what I'm doing here. I start to lift my head away from the surface to see where I am.

Then a pair of clammy hands grab my head and pull. Just before my head plunges back into the water I see its face. It is pale, its skin stretched tightly over its bones, it eyes cloudy white. And it's dead. Very, very dead.

Inferi.

My face hits the water again and I start to struggle, but I'm weak from the potion, not a strong as I usually am. My knees scrape against the rocks and my hands frantically try to find purchase but it's no use. I can't grab hold. I'm not strong enough. And slowly but surely I start to slip into the water.

More hands grab me. They're on top of me now. In the distance I can hear Kreacher shrieking. Kreacher! No! Suddenly I remember everything. He should have left by now. I didn't want him to see this. I try to yell to him, to order him away, but all I get is a mouthful of sea water. I'm fully submerged. I'm starting to sink. I'm drowning.

I try desperately to prize the hands off me but there are hundreds of them now, covering almost every inch of my body. I'm falling fast. My chest starts burning, begging me to breathe, but I know that as soon as I give in to it I'll be gone. I know I should just do it, to stop prolonging the inevitable. This is what I wanted after all, but even at the end I am still the same coward as always. I don't want to die.

I have heard it said that drowning is a peaceful way to die. Whoever said that was a fool. This is not peaceful. This is horrific. No light. Cold. And it hurts. A lot.

Despite myself I do what I am terrified of doing. I can't help it. My lungs are screaming at me for oxygen. I can't hold on anymore. I try to breathe. My lungs expand desperately and fill with water. It is the beginning of the end.

Finally.

Down. Down. Down. I can't see anything. I'm heavy. I'm tired. The hands that hold me don't feel cold anymore. They feel warm. Just like an embrace. I'm ready to join them.

Until a distant burst of bright red light shines down through the gloom above me. I try to life my head but I don't have the strength. My surroundings get brighter, the light gets closer. The hands holding me tighten. Then they are gone.

Suddenly I am being pulled up. Water gushes past me. It's like an invisible rope is wrapped around my chest and dragging me up.

I break free of the water and crash into the rocks. I gasp, then cough up what feels like a ton of water. Then I throw up. Breathe some more. Then throw up again. My vision starts to fade.

The last thing I hear before I give in to oblivion is the sound of a familiar voice yelling.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!"