I'm still not exactly sure what I did. It happened so many years ago that I can't remember anymore. All I know is that it was bad enough to get me landed here. And I don't even know where 'here' is. Or if I exist. If any of this exists. One thing I do know, though, is that I'm going to be stuck here for as long as I can endure without coming apart.
The place is nice enough. The entire building is painted white, and the walls are mildly cool to the touch. There are four main rooms here: the classroom, where we learn how to do our jobs; the library, where we read old stories we once knew to keep us entertained; the dorms, where we stay at nights if we don't have any calls; and the landing room. The landing room is where we are sent off to do our jobs.
We are DreamWalkers.
Part of our job is to send troubled people dreams with messages in them, letting them know which decision to make, or how to do this or that, or something else that will guide them on their way to success. The other part is a bit more difficult. If a person dies from an unnatural cause before the time they were meant to die, we must save them in time.
When a person chokes on, say, an olive, their air is constricted and they pass out from lack of oxygen. They stay alive for about 20 to 15 minutes, and when that time is up, they're gone. And it's our job to save them.
When a call comes in, we have to go to the landing room to receive our mission cards. They're like little tickets. On them there are two lines of writing. One line is your name, and the other line is the word 'incomplete' in gold letters. It looks like this:
Name
Incomplete
It changes to 'complete' once you've finished your mission. When you get your mission card, the person, or I guess DreamWalker, handing them tells you whether you got a "Dream mission" or a Death mission", depending on the mission you've been assigned.
Then you're sent.
Being sent is like apparating, only not as uncomfortable. You don't have to worry about people seeing you, because we DreamWalkers are invisible to mortals.
Well, most of them are.
To each other, though, we look just like regular people, but we're enveloped in blue light. Tiny spheres of power sort of hover around us, and when we're in the landing room, leaving, they come up to you and make your blue aura stronger. It's a bit unnerving, actually.
When you pay off your dues, you can supposedly go back to living in the mortal world. But I don't think that's ever happened. We've all been here so long none of us remember why it was we were sent here. Anyways, it's said that if you ever do return to being a mortal, you are seen by everyone in your DreamWalker state for about a minute before you return to mortal form.
But otherwise you were invisible.
Everyone was.
I was.
At least, for a while.
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Harry looked around the flat. It was pretty messy. He flinched, in spite of himself. It wasn't unnatural for him to see an unclean house. After all, this was where he lived. No, what made him upset was something else.
After the whole 'graduating from Hogwarts' thing, life had eventually settled from being hard-to-walk-outside-without-being-mobbed-for-photos to semi-normal-life-with-a-few-crazily-obsessed-fans. So all in all, it was pretty good.
Just one thing bothered him.
Harry was sad. Way sad. The saddest he'd ever been.
Probably the only person he'd ever been able to establish what you could call a normal relationship with, aside from Ron and Hermione, had died.
He walked into his room, sad and wine sodden, collapsed onto his bed, and began to cry.
Why the fuck did he have to die? I mean, sure he was an arrogant blonde git to me in school, but he's different now. Well, at least he was. Stupid muggle cars. I hate them I hate them I hate them-
And he fell asleep to the steady mantra of his fury.
