Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Escape From the White Prison Cell
“Wake up Harry! The whole building is collapsing!” To Harry, the voice had a quality which must make rapists out of priests. Not only did it have the nasally tones of professor Snape on helium, but it also managed to have the uppity “I am better than you” sound often generated by inbred pricks.
“So what you’re trying to say is that this person has a voice that sounds like Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape rolled into one?” Harry paused for a moment as he contemplated the voice’s question.
“Well... Yes. That’s a pretty good description of it.”
“Yes. I quite agree with you. The clowns are getting more colorful each year.” He said out loud in response to the earlier voice, although it came out somewhat garbled due to his sleep jumbled mind.
“I-- what? Oh, nevermind! We have to get out of here! Come on!”
“Alright, alright. Don’t get your wrinkles in a bunch. I’m coming as fast as I can.” Rubbing his eyes, Harry stood up from the bed and instinctively reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Unfortunately, his glasses where on the other side of the bed and he ended up jamming his middle finger into the table.
“Voldemort fucking Merlin’s hairy beard!” A gasp could be heard from the other side of Harry’s bars, but he couldn’t for the life of him tell who it was.
“Priority number one on my to do list-- fix my eyesight.” He said to his mental self.
“What happened to kicking Umbridge’s super fat arse?” Harry scratched his head and thought for a moment.
“Did I say I would do that?”
“Of course you did you dimwit!”
“Hey, I take offense to--”
“Harry!” That was the last straw. Not only did she win the award for world’s ugliest voice, but she also interrupted his private conversation! With a raw burst of magic, he managed to summon his glasses to his hands and slammed them onto his face, the only thing protecting himself from facial damage being the huge amounts of tape that held them together cushioning the impact. Squinting, he was able to recognize the person standing on the opposite side of the bars.
“Hey Hermione. What’s up?” The bushy-haired brunette stomped her foot in an angry fashion and began to yell at him.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s talking about saving you.” Said Harry’s new mental companion.
“I think I’ll call you Hannah.” He replied out loud. Hermione stopped her rant and stared at him incredulously.
“I-- you-- Harry! What do you mean?!” Harry sighed and turned an annoyed glance on her.
“I wasn’t talking to you annoying-voice. I was talking to myself. Now go away.” He made a shooing motion at her and sat back down on the bed, completely oblivious to the sound of an unstable building falling down around him.
“I resent that name.”
“Well too bad. I like it, and it reminds me of my first fuck-buddy.”
“But you’ve never had a fuck-buddy.” Harry’s mouth thinned into a frown.
“Way to spoil a man’s dreams.” There was a pause for a moment while the voice, now dubbed Hannah, collected its thoughts.
“You are indeed a strange one.”
“We. We are indeed a strange one.” Harry was sure if Hannah could roll his eyes he would have.
“Well, technically...”
“Nope. I don’t want to hear it. ‘Technically’ is just a way of saying ‘I don’t have anything useful to say so I’ll just use this word to fill up my stupidity.’ We can’t have that in our mind.”
“That is not what technically means.”
“I HAVE A RIGHT TO USE MY OWN DEFINITIONS FOR-- Ouch! Hey! cut it-- stop throwing rocks at me you shithead!” Yelled Harry, barely avoiding being crushed by a giant boulder.
“Harry... the ceiling is caving in. Nobody’s throwing rocks at you.”
“Oh... Is that bad?” Hannah seemed to think for a moment before coming to a decision.
“It depends. Are you in the mood for getting crushed by a two-ton rock?”
“Not really.”
“Then yes. It’s bad.”
“I see.” Harry paused for a moment before realizing that he had been taught what to do in situations such as these in grade school. Standing up, he quickly ran around the room several times before stopping in the center. He then dropped onto the ground (although not without an exclamation of ‘ouch!’) and began to roll back and forth.
“Not to be a distraction or anything,” interrupted the voice, “but what exactly are you doing?” Harry stopped rolling for a moment to reply.
“They taught me-- I mean us-- what to do in a situation like this in muggle grade school, remember?”
“Ahh... I can’t say that I do.”
“It’s called ‘stop, drop, and roll’.” Hannah snickered for a moment before replying.
“That’s what you’re supposed to do during a fire you imbecile, not during an avalanche of rocks bigger than Dudley.”
“Oh.” He stood up and fluffed his hair clear of the dirt which it had accumulated on the floor.
“Meh. I say we go north.” Harry said after taking a quick look at his quickly crumbling surroundings; annoying-voice had apparently given up on him.
“That would lead us into a wall.”
“Right you are, Hannah. Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“I didn’t-- and I really would rather not be called Hannah.”
“I don’t particularly care what you would rather not do and be or see or whatever. This is my mind, so I can do anything I want with whomever I want.”
“You make less sense than I do on my worst days.” Harry shook his head and walked out of his no longer intact prison. He emerged in a surprisingly brightly lit hallway with a dead end to his left and a staircase to his right.
“Well that makes it easier. I absolutely hate having to chose which direction to go.”
“As do I.”
“Shut up Hannah. Nobody asked you your opinion.” Harry ignored the moody response and continued through the wandering hallways of his prison, ignoring the occasional rumble and avalanche of rocks. Every once in a while he would come upon a doorway which he would attempt to open, but all of them were locked.
“I think I’ll invent a time machine someday.”
“Why so?”
“So I can kill the stupid fucker who made locks.”
“That seems like it would be a waste of a time machine.”
“Maybe, but we can’t all do useful things with whatever we invent. After all, genii are only born once every century, and apparently Dumbledore was the last one to make the cut.”
“Which means absolutely nothing. Dumbledore is over a century old.”
“A minor technicality.”
“But you said-- oh forget it.” After several more minutes of walking, Harry came upon a man laying face down in a pool of red liquid.
“Oh look, Hannah! He’s drinking cool-aid!” When Hannah replied, it was with a more sombre tone of voice than Harry had ever heard from him.
“That’s not cool-aid Harry. That’s blood.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a moment before Harry reached down to the man and patted him down, eventually finding the object he was looking for; a wand. Giving it a wave and satisfied with the resulting sparks, Harry continued down the passageway and stopped at the first door he came to.
“Alohomora.” He muttered and tapped the door. When nothing happened he frowned.
“Shoulda’ figured that wouldn’t work.” He said before drawing back.
“Incendio!” White hot flames burst out of the tip of his wand before colliding with the door and turning it into ashes while leaving the already cracking stone charred and melted.
“Damn! That was hot!”
“You’re calling fire... hot?” Harry paused and shook his head.
“Not like that you stupid perv.” What met him when he stepped through the door might have shocked him in his Hogwarts years, but now it was no more odd than seeing a woman with brightly colored hair at a rock concert.
“An interesting analogy.”
“It is, isn’t it. Came up with it all by myself.” In front of him, men and women lay strewn about the hall, some at odd angles and with broken necks, and others burned or stabbed in gruesome ways that would have made a stone-hearted murderer faint.
“Well this is a bloody mess.” Harry smiled before continuing on, clearing any bodies in his way with a quick swipe of his wand. “I feel like a fuckin’ janitor.” He said after several minutes, stopping his work for a moment to rest against the wall.
“I think we’re almost at the end.”
“Oh?”
“I can see daylight up ahead.” Harry nodded and then continued silently for several more minutes. When he finally reached the source of the light, he rolled his eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Who puts a fucking window in a place like this? Bombarda!” The window and part of the wall exploded outwards and revealed another scene of battle, although this time with live and fighting people, all of whom turned towards the source of the explosion. There was silence for a moment before a dangerous voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Harry Potter.”
“Wake up Harry! The whole building is collapsing!” To Harry, the voice had a quality which must make rapists out of priests. Not only did it have the nasally tones of professor Snape on helium, but it also managed to have the uppity “I am better than you” sound often generated by inbred pricks.
“So what you
“So what you’re trying to say is that this person has a voice that sounds like Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape rolled into one?” Harry paused for a moment as he contemplated the voice’s question.
“Well... Yes. That’s a pretty good description of it.”
“Yes. I quite agree with you. The clowns are getting more colorful each year.” He said out loud in response to the earlier voice, although it came out somewhat garbled due to his sleep jumbled mind.
“I-- what? Oh, nevermind! We have to get out of here! Come on!”
“Alright, alright. Don’t get your wrinkles in a bunch. I’m coming as fast as I can.” Rubbing his eyes, Harry stood up from the bed and instinctively reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Unfortunately, his glasses where on the other side of the bed and he ended up jamming his middle finger into the table.
“Voldemort fucking Merlin’s hairy beard!” A gasp could be heard from the other side of Harry’s bars, but he couldn’t for the life of him tell who it was.
“Priority number one on my to do list-- fix my eyesight.” He said to his mental self.
“What happened to kicking Umbridge’s super fat arse?” Harry scratched his head and thought for a moment.
“Did I say I would do that?”
“Of course you did you dimwit!”
“Hey, I take offense to--”
“Harry!” That was the last straw. Not only did she win the award for world’s ugliest voice, but she also interrupted his private conversation! With a raw burst of magic, he managed to summon his glasses to his hands and slammed them onto his face, the only thing protecting himself from facial damage being the huge amounts of tape that held them together cushioning the impact. Squinting, he was able to recognize the person standing on the opposite side of the bars.
“Hey Hermione. What’s up?” The bushy-haired brunette stomped her foot in an angry fashion and began to yell at him.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s talking about saving you.” Said Harry’s new mental companion.
“I think I’ll call you Hannah.” He replied out loud. Hermione stopped her rant and stared at him incredulously.
“I-- you-- Harry! What do you mean?!” Harry sighed and turned an annoyed glance on her.
“I wasn’t talking to you annoying-voice. I was talking to myself. Now go away.” He made a shooing motion at her and sat back down on the bed, completely oblivious to the sound of an unstable building falling down around him.
“I resent that name.”
“Well too bad. I like it, and it reminds me of my first fuck-buddy.”
“But you’ve never had a fuck-buddy.” Harry’s mouth thinned into a frown.
“Way to spoil a man’s dreams.” There was a pause for a moment while the voice, now dubbed Hannah, collected its thoughts.
“You are indeed a strange one.”
“We. We are indeed a strange one.” Harry was sure if Hannah could roll his eyes he would have.
“Well, technically...”
“Nope. I don’t want to hear it. ‘Technically’ is just a way of saying ‘I don’t have anything useful to say so I’ll just use this word to fill up my stupidity.’ We can’t have that in our mind.”
“That is not what technically means.”
“I HAVE A RIGHT TO USE MY OWN DEFINITIONS FOR-- Ouch! Hey! cut it-- stop throwing rocks at me you shithead!” Yelled Harry, barely avoiding being crushed by a giant boulder.
“Harry... the ceiling is caving in. Nobody’s throwing rocks at you.”
“Oh... Is that bad?” Hannah seemed to think for a moment before coming to a decision.
“It depends. Are you in the mood for getting crushed by a two-ton rock?”
“Not really.”
“Then yes. It’s bad.”
“I see.” Harry paused for a moment before realizing that he had been taught what to do in situations such as these in grade school. Standing up, he quickly ran around the room several times before stopping in the center. He then dropped onto the ground (although not without an exclamation of ‘ouch!’) and began to roll back and forth.
“Not to be a distraction or anything,” interrupted the voice, “but what exactly are you doing?” Harry stopped rolling for a moment to reply.
“They taught me-- I mean us-- what to do in a situation like this in muggle grade school, remember?”
“Ahh... I can’t say that I do.”
“It’s called ‘stop, drop, and roll’.” Hannah snickered for a moment before replying.
“That’s what you’re supposed to do during a fire you imbecile, not during an avalanche of rocks bigger than Dudley.”
“Oh.” He stood up and fluffed his hair clear of the dirt which it had accumulated on the floor.
“Meh. I say we go north.” Harry said after taking a quick look at his quickly crumbling surroundings; annoying-voice had apparently given up on him.
“That would lead us into a wall.”
“Right you are, Hannah. Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“I didn’t-- and I really would rather not be called Hannah.”
“I don’t particularly care what you would rather not do and be or see or whatever. This is my mind, so I can do anything I want with whomever I want.”
“You make less sense than I do on my worst days.” Harry shook his head and walked out of his no longer intact prison. He emerged in a surprisingly brightly lit hallway with a dead end to his left and a staircase to his right.
“Well that makes it easier. I absolutely hate having to chose which direction to go.”
“As do I.”
“Shut up Hannah. Nobody asked you your opinion.” Harry ignored the moody response and continued through the wandering hallways of his prison, ignoring the occasional rumble and avalanche of rocks. Every once in a while he would come upon a doorway which he would attempt to open, but all of them were locked.
“I think I’ll invent a time machine someday.”
“Why so?”
“So I can kill the stupid fucker who made locks.”
“That seems like it would be a waste of a time machine.”
“Maybe, but we can’t all do useful things with whatever we invent. After all, genii are only born once every century, and apparently Dumbledore was the last one to make the cut.”
“Which means absolutely nothing. Dumbledore is over a century old.”
“A minor technicality.”
“But you said-- oh forget it.” After several more minutes of walking, Harry came upon a man laying face down in a pool of red liquid.
“Oh look, Hannah! He’s drinking cool-aid!” When Hannah replied, it was with a more sombre tone of voice than Harry had ever heard from him.
“That’s not cool-aid Harry. That’s blood.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a moment before Harry reached down to the man and patted him down, eventually finding the object he was looking for; a wand. Giving it a wave and satisfied with the resulting sparks, Harry continued down the passageway and stopped at the first door he came to.
“Alohomora.” He muttered and tapped the door. When nothing happened he frowned.
“Shoulda’ figured that wouldn’t work.” He said before drawing back.
“Incendio!” White hot flames burst out of the tip of his wand before colliding with the door and turning it into ashes while leaving the already cracking stone charred and melted.
“Damn! That was hot!”
“You’re calling fire... hot?” Harry paused and shook his head.
“Not like that you stupid perv.” What met him when he stepped through the door might have shocked him in his Hogwarts years, but now it was no more odd than seeing a woman with brightly colored hair at a rock concert.
“An interesting analogy.”
“It is, isn’t it. Came up with it all by myself.” In front of him, men and women lay strewn about the hall, some at odd angles and with broken necks, and others burned or stabbed in gruesome ways that would have made a stone-hearted murderer faint.
“Well this is a bloody mess.” Harry smiled before continuing on, clearing any bodies in his way with a quick swipe of his wand. “I feel like a fuckin’ janitor.” He said after several minutes, stopping his work for a moment to rest against the wall.
“I think we’re almost at the end.”
“Oh?”
“I can see daylight up ahead.” Harry nodded and then continued silently for several more minutes. When he finally reached the source of the light, he rolled his eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Who puts a fucking window in a place like this? Bombarda!” The window and part of the wall exploded outwards and revealed another scene of battle, although this time with live and fighting people, all of whom turned towards the source of the explosion. There was silence for a moment before a dangerous voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Harry Potter.”
“Wake up Harry! The whole building is collapsing!” To Harry, the voice had a quality which must make rapists out of priests. Not only did it have the nasally tones of professor Snape on helium, but it also managed to have the uppity “I am better than you” sound often generated by inbred pricks.
“So what you
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