Harry Potter dove for cover, barely escaping the gaze of the Security Eye and making it to the relative safety underneath a filthy table. But his actions weren't without consequence, as he went tumbling end over end, until he was abreast the wall, his body upside down.
Six gazed at him with amusement, laughter practically swirling in the recesses of her emotionless gaze. How eyes that appeared so empty could wield such depth was a mystery Harry has yet to unravel. That he could tell her emotion at all was a miracle in and of itself.
"You ok?" she whispered. Harry gave her a thumbs up from his awkward position, as he rolled upright with a low grunt. Six backed away as he did this, and helped him to his feet.
"That could have gone better," he muttered, shaking the cobwebs from his head. And literally from his hair. He was only slightly astounded there were no spiders yet nesting in his unruly mane. But it was only a matter of time, he was sure.
"You made it. That's the important part," Six said, trying to uplift his spirits. Which didn't seem to work, as he leveled his own deadpan stare at her. It was easy for her to say, considering the effortlessness of which she made the journey.
Harry grumbled something she wasn't able to hear, and was once more entertained by his antics. He did make for some beguiling company at times. But as fun as she found his griping, they needed to press onward.
"Come on, time for the next one," she said. Harry sighed but nodded in agreement nonetheless. Hopefully this time he wouldn't make such an utter fool of himself, but his hopes weren't high. But even so, it was far better to be made a fool then to be turned to stone.
One was far more painful than the other.
He watched as Six waited for the exact moment the eye above them turned off. Once it did so, she was off, sprinting with a grace he could scarcely believe. And one he knew he would never match. But as long as he was fast enough to escape those who wished him harm, that would have to do.
Six made it across to the next table, hiding beneath it with ample time to spare. She really did make it look easy. But some of them were but mere mortals who struggled to achieve even a partiality of her swiftness.
But even so, he had no choice but to soldier on. As nice as the underside of this table was, and he was using the word nice with some heavy amount of sarcasm, it was not a place he wished to spend his years in. Or even a few minutes, if he were to be honest.
So he watched as the light above blinked on and off almost lazily in its routine. It felt similar to an overworked employee going about their task with a lethargic energy, satisfied with a paycheck and uncaring for a promotion.
Good for Harry, as if the machine, or mayhaps, creature above held a more excitable disposition, he would likely get caught. Thankfully it held no such desires for excitement and refused to deviate from its entrenched pattern.
Once, twice, three times he watched the light shudder on and off, before, on the fourth turn, he made his move, sprinting for all he was worth towards the safety and comfort of the table.
It was close, but he made it this time without having to perform any acrobatics. He breathed in heavily and deeply, regaining his lost breath. He turned to his companion, who gave him a thumbs up of her own. Harry snorted, and barked a short laugh, appreciating her mocking sense of humor.
"Just one more. Think you can make it?" she challenged. Harry raised an eyebrow at her tone, noting the slight difference from before. It was one he hadn't heard until now. Who knew she had a competitive streak?
Or perhaps it was more for his benefit than it was for hers. That seemed more likely. Hoping to light a fire in him and keep him running ever faster to avoid the consequence of lollygagging.
And to her credit, the notion held some merit. Harry was a bit competitive, though he had very little to compete over at the Dursleys. Food, perhaps, but that was a competition he had no chance of winning.
But he had no objection towards competition itself. Wanting to be the best and striving towards victory was an admirable trait in his opinion, so long as it wasn't taken too far. Cheating was a big no go in his book.
Unless, of course, it aided in his and Six's survival. If that's what it took to keep her from the cloying embrace of death, he would gladly become a cheat that would make any politician proud.
Her safety was the most important thing to him right now.
"Just who do you think you're talking to? I could easily avoid 100 of these things. No problem," Harry said, chest puffed out and full of bluster. Six raised an eyebrow at his bravado, seemingly unimpressed.
"Uh huh. How about you just stick to the one for now," she said while poking him in his inflated ribcage, making him expel all the air he'd gathered and deflating him like a balloon.
She snickered at his put out expression, before turning to the empty hall once more. This was the last hurdle they needed to overcome, at least in this part of the hallway. What the next bend had in store for them was anyone's guess.
It was also the longest distance, noticeably so. She was confident in her own abilities to reach the next promise of safety, but Harry was another matter.
While he wasn't that much slower than her, it might be just enough to get himself entrapped in stone once more. A circumstance she would rather avoid, if at all possible. He really would make for a rather substandard garden gnome.
However, worrying about it would do neither of them any good. It was for the best she simply trust in his abilities, and concentrate on her own crossing, lest she fall victim to the same fate she worried for him.
So she waited for the right moment, when the light went out and the shadows frolicked once more. As soon as she saw their telltale dance, she took off, like a lion chasing its prey.
Like each time before, she easily escaped the jaws of death, the increased distance proving no challenge for her quickness of foot. Turning back to see her friend, she saw him standing there, alone, staring at the perceived vastness of no man's land with trepidation. For all his bluster and bravado, he knew his limitations well.
But there was no other path but forward. Hesitation would only invite the very same death he was hoping to avoid. He knew it, she knew it, and anyone who wished to survive in this place must adhere to this simple truth.
The way back led to nothing but defeat and isolation. Once experienced, such encounters were not easily brushed aside, leading to a morose contemplation of failure. When one ruminates on such failing, they are then more likely to be repeated. And thus, that fear of failure ceases to be a fear, and instead, becomes one's own reality.
The fear of failure is what ironically, leads to the failure you fear.
And one failure is all it takes in some cases, and the fear becomes a permanent staple of the mind. Six has seen it before, and nearly fell into that deceptively alluring trap. Thankfully, her desire to survive and escape the nightmare realm she had been tricked into calling home, snapped her out of her own self destructive behavior.
She could only hope her friend would be able to do the same. That hesitation on his face as the eye above constantly promised death, over and over again in a haunting mockery, is more likely to be his cause of demise than any physical failings on his part.
However, her own fears of losing the one bright spot in her otherwise pallid existence faded away into the shadows surrounding her, where they belong. It was not some miracle of thought that released them, but by the simple meeting of the eyes.
Hers and Harrys.
As his eyes met her own, a courage of his own blossomed in his bosom, using his own anxieties as nutrients. Someday it would grow into a mighty oak, but for now it was merely a sapling.
And that was enough.
Fear would hold him back no more. The doubts that whispered in his ears, casting aspersions on his bravery, were silenced. Not forever, perhaps, but at least for the moment, they were a distraction no more.
So when the light shined no more upon the wretched, filth stained land, Harry darted out from the filth stained underbelly of the table. His vision narrowed to a tunnel as he stared unflinchingly at his goal.
It was not the next table that he sought to reach, that was a mere consequence of his true intent. The purpose he ran was much greater than, at least in his mind, a temporary feeling of security.
For his entire attention was centered not on the dark haven the underside of the table promised, but on the person who stood ensconced in its shadows. Six, and remaining with his friend, was his true motivation. Nothing was of greater import than that.
Fear of failure made heavy his feet, and taking even that first step felt more laborious a task than any chore demanded by his relatives. But the greater fear of solitude removed the self imposed weight his mind fabricated.
But it was more than courage his fear inspired. Unknowingly, he called upon the mystical power dwelling deep within the mystery of his soul, using it to empower his legs and hastening his return to his companion.
However, even with so great an advantage, its utility would fall short of his goal. He was simply too exhausted, mentally and physically, to make proper use of it. He wouldn't make it. Even if he was moving faster than ever before, it still wasn't enough.
Something Six noticed as well. It was clear to her experienced eyes that Harry had called upon his power again. A relief when she noticed, but that comfort proved itself a false companion. Even with his quickened pace, she knew his goal lay out of reach.
Stolen novel; please report.
It wasn't that he was going too slow, as he was likely faster than she was during her own run. No, the true problem converged on two points.
The first was his start time. Six herself was out of the gate roughly 0.10 seconds after the light blinked off, her greater reaction time allowing her to move at a moment's notice. Harry, however, wasn't so adept at adapting to change in circumstance. Better than most, but at 0.40 seconds, it was a significant delay from her own time of departure.
Next was his rate of acceleration. Six was very good at getting to top speed very quickly. A trait she picked up surviving in the Nowhere. Harry, while again, better than most, was more attuned to the task of escaping much slower foes.
Namely his cousin and his gang. Harry didn't need to be the fastest guy around, only faster than them. So he learned to conserve his energy to ensure continued avoidance. He trained himself for a much lengthier distance than his current sprint demanded.
A worthy endeavor, considering the trouble he faced, but it proved to be a hindrance for his current task. He would fall just shy of his destination, close enough Six would likely be able to reach out her hand and touch him.
Her eyes widened at the thought. If that was the case, then maybe, just maybe there is something she could do. Six might not have the same magic as her friend, but that didn't mean she was helpless.
Far from it.
It also did not preclude her from rendering him aid either. If in fact he did arrive within suitable distance, then perhaps she could ensure he did not become a statue.
Because she was awfully tired of seeing him do so. The first time, on accident and nearly fatal. The second, an experiment that offered more questions than answers. She would like to avoid a third instance, as much as she could.
He was likely to receive some amount of petrification, she would not be able to prevent it entirely, but so long as he survived the encounter, she would call that an acceptable amount of injury.
Her plan was simple, as all good plans should be. The more complicated a plan is, the more points of failure it has as well. Though, she supposed a plan with so few steps only had to run afoul a detriment but one time.
To put it plainly, she would reach out her hand, grab his own, and pull him to safety. The plan involved some risk on her part. Though only a part of her hand would be visible to the eye, it would still be enough to suffer its effects.
Should that occur while gripping her companion and being unable to muster enough force to drag him to safety, she may find her hand welded permanently to his own.
So, no pressure.
Meeting her friend's gaze, she could tell he realized the same truth as her. That he would be unable to make it in time. But she could also see a determination there, an unyielding will to survive.
That was all she needed to see. Spurned on by his fortitude, Six didn't give a second thought as she held her hand out for him to grab, the other clinging to a table leg, both to aid her stability, and to help when she needed to pull him to safety.
She didn't say a word, but the message in her resplendent, ruby eyes made it clear her intentions. She was not about to give up, and neither should he.
Seeing this gave Harry the motivation to castaway the growing fatigue and inspired a sudden burst of speed. Reaching out a hand in the very moment the light of damnation shone down upon him, he could see both his arm and hers hardening into rock.
But even so, he refused to surrender into that quiet night. As did Six. He could feel his hand grab onto hers, though only just barely. The petrification being a strange combination of agony and numbness.
But even though he couldn't feel her hand, not with his sense of touch anyway, it did not deprive him of a more esoteric sensation. It was a connection that could scarcely be explained by physical means. He could neither see nor feel his hand in hers, and yet, he knew this to be the truth.
Six, however, was able to see the connection in the physical sense, as her eyes had not yet been blinded by the visage of stone. Her hand and his, clasped together and unable to move, fully petrified.
But that was ok. She expected this to happen, and braced herself for the experience. Even so, the feeling of ants crawling all over her hand and arm, however brief, was still rather unpleasant. It almost made her glad for the insensate feeling that came after.
Now, with their hands firmly stuck together, she had but one thing left to do, and that was reel him in. Thankfully, he hadn't come to a full stop, doggedly continuing forward, so she was able to use his own momentum to aid in her endeavor.
Using all of her might, she yanked her arm backwards while pushing against the table leg with the other, bringing him with her into the safety of the shadows.
What she did not account for was the fact that her hand and his were stuck together. It wasn't that she didn't know they would be, she just didn't expect that when she flung him under the table, she would be flung with him.
Harry hit the ground first, bits and pieces of rock chipping off of him. It was not the most pleasant of experiences, but the feeling of pain let him know he was alive at the very least, so he would not begrudge the sensation too much.
If that had been the end of it, he would have been happy to lay there in his agony until it faded away, just as he did before. But alas, the world had other ideas. Six, his dear friend and ally, fell right on top of him, shattering whatever remained of the petrification.
"Oof!" he grunted, as the air was stricken from his lungs. He looked down, forcing his neck to move through the agony, and saw a mop of black hair nearly as unruly as his own. But that visage didn't last long, and was soon replaced with the concerned, red eyes of his companion.
"You're not dead, are you?" she asked. Her bedside manner was atrocious, and yet, Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped his lips, no matter how much pain the action brought.
"I don't think so. What about you? Still alive?" he asked, a bit of playfulness in his tone. It was marred a bit by pain and exhaustion, as his breathing was more than a bit ragged.
Her eyes sagged in relief as she laid her head back down on his chest. "I'm starting to think you enjoy making me worry," she said, closing her eyes. She could hear the constant drumming of his heart, beating rapidly.
Did all hearts sound like this? She's never heard one before, besides her own when she was in imminent danger, but that always carried with it the feeling of fear and anxiety. Nothing like the soothing melody she was listening to now.
The sound of it easing the throbbing pain in her right arm. She found it difficult to believe he was experiencing the same ache, only through his whole body.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to worry you… again," he apologized morosely. Six merely hummed in response, being lulled into contentment by the rhythm pounding in his chest. She could feel her own heartbeat slow with his, as two separate songs came together to form a harmonious discord. Each beat in time with the other.
It was strange how comfortable she felt, laying there basically on top of him. But she couldn't find the strength within her to move. Not yet at least. The exhaustion in her body held by the day's events seemed to fade with each encore his heart echoed.
Several minutes passed, and the pain in her arm ebbed into a dull ache. If such was the case for her, then he was likely experiencing a similar phenomenon. Which meant, as much as she disliked the notion, it was time to continue on.
Groaning with displeasure, Six used her good hand to prop herself up. It wasn't that she couldn't use her other hand should she have wished it, but it was currently occupied with a more important task.
And that was holding Harry's hand. She was a bit surprised to find herself still clinging onto it, the stone holding them together having long since dissolved. Something you wouldn't know by how tightly they continued to hold.
"So, you ready to move on?" she asked, looking down into the sparkling emerald eyes of her companion. He blew hot air from his mouth, his expression turning petulant as he turned away from her, "Do we have to?"
Raising an eyebrow at his whining, Six straddled his waist, poking him in the chest with her good hand. "Do you really want to stay here?" she asked, a hint of condescension on her lips as she gestured around them with her head.
He winced and rubbed the area, the pain more coming from the remnants of his petrification than any real harm done by Six. He knew she was right, of course, but that didn't mean he wanted to move. As gross and filthy as the floor was, it felt leagues better than the eye's glare.
"No…" he acquiesced, returning his gaze to her own. Six nodded in satisfaction before standing. She looked at him expectantly and Harry knew he had no choice but to stand as well. The red eyed girl helped him to his feet, Harry stumbling slightly due to the stiffness in his legs.
"Woah," he said, as Six assured he wouldn't return to the floor prematurely, holding him upright. "You good?" she asked, as his legs shook from the sudden strain he placed on them.
"Yeah my legs are just a bit stiff. Give me a minute," he responded. She nodded, and the pair of them stared at the path ahead. The light from the eye only touched a small portion of the corner leading to the next segment of the hall, so there should be no problems getting past it.
Unless, of course, a certain clumsy person, who shall remain nameless, tripped and fell. But what were the odds of that happening?
After exactly one minute passed, Six gave him another look. One that asked if he was ready to go yet. Shaking each of his legs, Harry felt strong enough to journey forth. Giving her one of his thumbs up, the two of them prepared to leave.
The light blinked off, and the two of them made it round the corner, hands still clinging to each other. Both of them felt some measure of excitement as they finally left that wretched hall, only to freeze in disbelief.
There was another eye.
"Oh come on!" Harry griped. He was really starting to hate those things, and was sure he would end up with some sort of PTSD if he kept encountering them. He felt Six squeeze his hand in comfort, though it did little to abate his frustration.
"Let's just get this over with…" he sighed. Could this day get any worse? That was probably not a question he should ask, lest the universe deign to answer in a way most obstructive.
Unlike the eye behind them, this one operated in a way more akin to the others Six has experienced. It was on, it stayed on, and it swiveled back and forth, hoping to catch anything living unawares.
Most of the hall was similar to the rest, with three tables on one side of the room, and an upturned one on the other side. They wouldn't be using that one for cover, that's for certain.
Unsurprisingly, there were also piles of sand scattered around the area, the remnants of those who were not so lucky as to avoid the ever watchful eye. Six idly wondered if there was a way to obfuscate the eye's vision by covering with something like paint.
Something for another time, as they currently lacked any ability to test that theory. And even if they did, Six was done with experiments for one day. Hopefully. Best to just do what she knows works, avoid the light at all costs.
The pair observed the light for a bit to discern its pattern. It seemed like it kept its gaze to one spot for approximately 4 seconds before moving on. Plenty of time to move between the tables.
Then again, Six had the same thought about the previous eye as well, and that almost ended in tragedy. But thinking such negative thoughts would only hinder her. Best to stay positive. Or as positive as one could get in this place.
"Ready?" she asked, giving her friend one last look. He returned it with a look of confidence, his false bravado returning with a vengeance. "Of course."
Good enough.
Waiting for the light to reach the furthest point, Six darted under the first table, Harry following close behind. She was then forced to wait as the light traveled to the center, then to the table they were under, and finally back to the center. As it moved away from the center, she once again charged ahead, making it to the second table with relative ease.
Harry decided to wait for another rotation, but when he too made his run, he did so without issue. Both now in the center, the final sprint should be easy, but knowing the danger of complacency, Six treated it no differently than the others.
Once the light shifted to the first table, Six shot off, reaching safety with time to spare. Once more waiting his turn, Harry did the same, doing his best to ignore his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
But his nervousness proved unfounded, as the pair of them avoided death once more and reached the final bend of the hallway. It led them all around, basically going in a loop, a wall being the only thing that prevented the circle from completing.
"See, that was easy," Six stated glibly, as Harry leveled a glare at her. Of course she would say that, she was the textbook definition of the word quick.
Choosing to ignore her look of superiority, Harry surveyed the final stretch of hallway. Thankfully, there was no eye this time, only a long corridor leading to a dead end. A few paintings were hung up of people and things Harry hoped to never meet. There was only one table along this path at the very end, with shattered glass resting on top of it.
But there was one point of interest, and that would be the door, one with an eye looking down on them like nearly every one they've seen until now, The Pretender's being the odd one out.
"What are the chances it's locked?" Harry asked, as he and Six stared up at the door. She shrugged her shoulders in response, "Only one way to find out," she said, moving towards the door and made ready to toss him at the handle.
Harry nodded at that, moving towards his friend and gently placing his foot in her hands. He felt a bit guilty about how dirty it was, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Six boosted him up and Harry grabbed the handle which, to his relief, was not locked. The door slid open, revealing the next room of their journey.
Time to see what all that security was about.