Ég hef lengi verið að lesa ‘fanfica’ á netinu og mig langaði að prófa að spreyta mig á þessu. Þetta er eiginlega bara svona ‘preview’ af fyrsta kaflanum af sögunni sem ég er að byrja á að skrifa. Kaflinn sjálfur á að vera miklu lengri, en ég vildi fá álit ykkar hérna inná Huga áður en ég held mikið lengra áfram.

En já… sagan byrjar þegar Harry er nýbúinn að drepa ‘the Basilisk’ og Tom Riddle. Þetta er eiginlega áður en Fawkes ætti að koma að lækna hann og bjarga deginum, en hann er þarna engu síður. Hann hefur einfaldlega ekki getað komist að Harry til að lækna hann útaf ónefndri ástæðu. En já, bara enjoy og endilega segið mér hvað ykkur finnst og ef þið viljið leiðrétta málfræði eða koma með hugmyndir þá bara betra:D

Poisonous Changes
He fell to his knees, the poison draining what little strength he had left. This is it he thought. Soon the poison would finish its course through his body and he would leave this world forever, beginning his journey on to ‚the next great adventure‘ as Dumbledore had once called it.
It seemed almost surreal, just a few hours ago he had been sitting beside Hermione‘s petrified body in the hospital wing – just sitting there, thinking, waiting for something miraculous to happen. And it had! Finding that paper in Hermione’s hand had been the last clue he needed to find the Chamber.
And so off he went, with Ron in tow, to go get Lockhart of all people to help them rescue Ron’s sister. How could I have been so stupid? Harry thought miserably. After everything he had witnessed about his character, he should have found someone better to help them, instead of confronting that good for nothing, lying bastard that was Gilderoy Lockhart. Well, he could blame whoever he liked once he got out of this chamber oh wait, I forgot, I’m dying.
It was getting harder to breathe every second, his vision was getting darker by the minute, and why wasn’t Ginny waking up already! Through his somewhat incoherent thoughts he had managed to conclude that once he got rid of the memory spectre of Tom Riddle, Ginny would wake up and everything would be alright. Things, while maybe a little different, would go back to the way they were before; Quidditch, classes, and other trivial things that almost seemed like another life right now.
But things weren’t alright. The deadly poison of the Basilisk was certainly living up to its name, destroying his very DNA and leaving him nothing but an unidentified husk, when, or rather if he was found. I wonder if the Chamber sealed itself after I entered. Harry thought somewhat curiously. But then it won’t matter anyway, I will be dead and off on some foolish quest to save the day in the afterlife. Harry laughed bitterly, though it soon turned to a coughing fit and an excruciating pain assaulted his senses. He fell onto his side, pain accompanying each sharp intake of his breath. Right. He thought. No more laughing. Who laughs when they are about to die anyway?
Ginny still wasn’t moving. She was pale, so very pale. All life had abandoned her face, but she looked peaceful. It was almost as if she was merely sleeping, what with the way her hair surrounded her gaunt features and her relaxed posture on the ground. And if he concentrated hard enough he could see how her chest would rise in a steady rhythm, following her breathing.
But there was no slow rising of her chest, no soundless breathing and her face was still white as if she were already dead. But she couldn’t be dead, no, that’s just not the way things were supposed happen. He had saved her, killed Voldemort and he only had to wait a little longer. Just a little…You know that isn’t true. His cold voice of logic told him. She is dead and there is nothing you can do about it.
Could it be? Could she really be dead? Had his killing of Voldemort killed her as well? Had Voldemort been the only thing keeping her alive? Maybe they had been living some sort of a symbiotic relationship and he killing the symbiot had killed the host as well. Snap out of it! Oh great, his inner logic was back.
Any further musings were cut short when the venom reached his brain. Ignoring the pain to his lungs, his inhuman cry tore through the silence of the chamber, reverberating back and forth, making any living animal close by cower from fear.
It was like having magma running through his veins, hot knifes stabbing into his head as it was slowly compressed by a bulldozer.
Nothing mattered any more. There were no thoughts, no emotions, only the pain.
The pain was so great that if he were capable of thought he would have lost the ability instantly. It lasted for an eternity, and only a second, at the same time.
His magic reacted.
Pushing against the invasion to his most vital system, his magic sundered outwards, crushing the statues, incinerating Ginny’s body as if it were nothing but a mere fly on the wall, and finally reaching the wards protecting the chamber.
Boom!
The castle shook. Debris began raining down from the ceiling, only to vanish upon contact with his wild magic. But the venom was strong. It had come from one of the deadliest of magical creatures, centuries old and protector of Slytherin’s fabled chamber – the Basilisk.
Therefore, unfortunately for Harry, the venom gained a foothold in his body, making it so that if the venom was expelled – he would die. His magic could only retreat and minimize its losses, forming a protective dome around his mind, allowing nothing to enter or leave, be it magical, physical or telepathic .
Normally, someone who had come in contact with the Basilisk venom would have been long dead. However, Harry’s magic was just a tad bit more powerful and complex than your average wizard’s. His powerful magic, the remnants of his mother’s protection and his unnatural link to death all played its part in making him capable of resisting the venom’s lethality. But the venom of such an old creature could not be halted indefinitely.
As the venom renewed its attack on his shielded mind, Harry could no longer resist and his last defences were breached.
Darkness claimed him.