"No one is born evil, but a few mistakes and sadly, the rest falls into place. Alas, this is the world we live in."
-Darrow Starkov
Cold. Everything was so cold. And dark. He could not see a shred of light, not even when he waved his hands in front of his face.
Was he blind?
He closed his eyes in concentration and tried to remember. Every nerve in his body trying to focus on his memory, trying to recall images of the past. There was nothing, nothing but a blank in his memory. In fact, everything was a blank in his memory. What was his name? Blank. Where was he? Blank. How did he get here? Blank. Did he like sushi? Blank.
Strange. He knew what sushi was, but not how it tasted or how it looked. That was how it was for most things he tried to think of. He knew what they were, but couldn't remember anything else about it.
Maybe he had hit his head, gotten a concussion, and then had a temporary block in his memory. That had to be what happened. It had to be, since it was not normal for someone to wake up alone in a pitch-black and cold place with no knowledge of what happened.
Or was it?
Regardless, it would do nothing for him to try to remember any longer. There was clearly something blocking him from his own memories. What he needed was to find out where he was and get out of wherever he was. Then what? Would he find his family? Did they even know he was gone? Or did he even have a family to begin with? He could be an orphan. Maybe he was kidnapped and taken here, but why would his kidnappers take him here.
Unless he was dead.
He pinched himself as hard as he could. He winced, maybe he had been too worried about death and pinched harder than necessary. He would worry about the details of his mysterious past later. Sooner or later, he would require food and water. If he didn't find a way out, he would be dead soon enough.
His hands slide down to explore where he sat, flinching once he felt how cold it was. It certainly felt like ice, but that wouldn't make any sense. Ice was at the very least translucent, it would allow some light to pass although one would not be able to see clearly through it. That was not the case, whatever was surrounding him was opaque, blocking out all sources of light. Furthermore, if he was surrounded by ice, he would have been dead already and the floor did not seem to melt underneath him.
He lowered his hands and felt around again, this time embracing the cold. The surface was smooth until about a few inches to the right where the material became rough and uneven. The texture was familiar to him.
Limestone. Damp limestone to be specific.
Next was a faint crashing sound. He paused and focused on the sound to find that it occurred constantly. Every seven seconds to be exact.
His last clue was the smell. Salty.
If he had to guess, he was somewhere near the coastline facing an ocean or sea. Most likely in the northern hemisphere. Perhaps Scotland, Denmark or Norway.
Now, what was he doing in a cave in northern Europe?
Over the next few hours, or what he believed to be hours since there was no way to tell time except in his head, he explored the cave. At first, he had not been able to move his legs and he had thought he was paralyzed from the bottom half down. Then after a few minutes of being awake, he started to regain feeling in his legs. It was as if they were an old desktop computer that had not been turned on for years. Pushing himself up, he got to his feet, which he noticed were not wearing shoes. He was wobbly at first, but he took it slowly. Step after step and then he was walking perfectly.
It was strange seeing nothing but darkness. People relied on their sight more than any of their other senses. He walked around using his feet to make sure there were no holes or rifts in the ground. Eventually, he walked into a wall, again made of stone. With one hand touching the wall and the other searching in front of him for any obstacles that might knock him down, he walked around until he circled the perimeter of the cave and came back to where he started.
He had managed to mostly map out the cave that he was in. It was oval-like with a small pond of fresh water near what was probably the western wall. There was no entry or exit that he could find. Which meant, he either entered from above or someone bolted the way.
After circling the cave three more times, he determined there was no way to enter through the walls. There was no trace of a locked entrance. He must have been lowered down into this cave, but the strange thing was that there was no entrance in the ceiling either. He hadn't climbed up the walls and checked, but there was nothing that pointed to it. No change in temperature, sound, or echoes wherever he stood. It was like he was sealed in completely. This also meant water and food were the least of his problem. He would need to conserve the amount of air he breathed or he would suffocate. Granted, there was a small area of mosses and ferns so he would at least have a little longer to live.
Mosses and fern... those plants grew near the entrances of caves.
He practically ran towards it. With all his strength, he pushed on the wall.
Nothing. The wall was as if there was never an entrance. It was completely smooth, not even a dent or a crack. It was like the wall was unnatural or artificial. Man-made perhaps
It couldn't be. He was right. Plants required sunlight to live. There was an opening here, but it just vanished like magic.
He continued to push against the wall. When his hands tired, he used his shoulder. When his shoulders bruised, he used his legs.
The thumping against the wall became as constant as the waves.
He was wasting his energy and he knew it, but it was better to be tired than dead.
Even though his will stayed strong, his body had enough. The coldness of the cave started to seep into his bones. He sat down, leaning against the wall for support. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to stop warmth from escaping his bare skin. He tried to create what friction he could, but only felt the weight of his fatigue slowing him down. Soon he could do nothing but sit as he slowly froze to death. The last bit of warmth he would ever feel would be the hot breath coming out of his mouth when he exhaled and even that was beginning to get colder.
He could not even say he lived a good life because he did not even know about his life. Death would bring an end to all this. It would end the cold, the hunger, the exhaustion. He just had to give in and close his eyes. There would be no pain or suffering. Just darkness, a void. It was pointless, but a part of his refused to give up. He might not have remembered his life before, but he wished to continue living.
He clenched his fists and screamed one last time in frustration. It echoed around the cave, slowly dying out like he was. He released his fists and that was when it happened. A miracle, an impossibility, a phenomenon. No matter what you called it, it happened.
A small flame danced in his palm.
Naturally, fire was not something that was associated with safety. He had to resist any urges to snuff out the fire and constantly reminded himself that it did not burn him.
It did not hurt at all.
He stopped caring how it was possible and simply melted in relief. He could have been hallucinating, but he simply did not care anymore.
It was a small fire, but somehow it was enough to warm him up. It was like the flames were engulfing his body all while staying only in his palm.
Aside from the warmth, the fire also provided light. Light for him to see his pale hand and the hypnotizing sway of the fire. He walked around the cave once more, hoping that sight would allow him to escape. Perhaps he had used up all his luck with this mystical flame in his hand. The cave was exactly how he imagined it in his head.
Once again he reached what should have been the entrance. He would survive for at least another day. And with that thought in his mind, he allowed himself to catch a few minutes of sleep. Minutes which of course turned to hours.
When he woke up, the flame had extinguished itself and he spent what must have been the daytime in darkness.
He had worried about how the cold would affect him when the sun outside would set once more, allowing the night to rule supreme.
However, that night as he huddled in coldness, the flame came back like a loyal friend. And in the next morning, the flame left like a forbidden lover.
That was how he spent the next few days. Eventually, he managed to change his internal clock so he slept during the day and explored the cave when the flame was present to illuminate his surroundings.
He had found a large rock during one of nights and began to draw ticks on the wall for each day that he spent in the cave. He might as well have kept a record if he was going to die.
The rest of the time he spent hacking away at the supposed entrance, breaking a few rocks in his attempt.
On the seventeenth night, he sat against the wall in his usual spot staring at the flame. He had thought of a few theories of how it was possible, but there were holes in all of them.
Maybe he was in a dream and that was why. He was in a very life-like dream where he could conjure fire, but if this was true then why did his dream work like the real world. Why would gravity exist in a dream, and if he could conjure fire, why couldn't he have just punched a hole in the wall?
The next theory was that this was an emergency protocol that his brain initiated. His brain was tricking his body into believing that there was a fire in his palm. This way he would not freeze to death. But even if his imagination was strong enough to trick his body, it would not matter because it would not change anything in reality. If anything he would just have gone insane and believed he was warm while his body froze to death.
His third hypothesis was just that. He was dead. This was some sort of afterlife or test to see if he deserved to be reborn or something. The problem with this one was that it could not have been true. He was pretty sure if he plunged a rock into his heart, he would actually die and what type of afterlife allowed you to die. Also, he didn't particularly believe in the afterlife.
The last theory he thought of was perhaps the most insane but logical. Magic. He was very much alive, not dreaming and in fact in the real world. Maybe he was some type of angel or creature that could control fire. Maybe he was a wizard. It didn't matter what he was. The point was that it was magic that allowed him to live. It was magic that allowed this flame to be in his hand without burning him alive or requiring fuel.
The seventeenth night was the one that he remembered the most, not because he had come to the conclusion of four theories. He remembered it mostly because it was the day escape came in the form of three men. Three strange men who were his saviours nonetheless.
The wall of the cave blasted apart and he supposed he should have been glad that it was not the part of the cave wall he was leaning against.
"Harry?" one of them asked. He could see none of their features since the light from outside the cave came from behind them. He could only see three silhouettes one of which approached him. "Harry?" the man asked again, this time with more strain in his voice.
He made no reply. Was he Harry? Was he the person these three men were looking for?
The man continued to walk up to him. He tried to raise the flame in his hand to see the man's face, but the flame had extinguished itself.
"It's him. I do believe it is Mr. Harry Potter."
"Quickly, we need to take him to St. Mungo's. Who knows what he went through."
The man grabbed him and before he could make any protests, something happened. It was like he was on a roller coaster without a seatbelt on. He was being pulled one moment then compressed the next. He felt nauseous. His vision became distorted. The walls of the cave changed into the starry sky and then buildings? He couldn't take it anymore. Even death would be less painful. His vision faded and then he went unconscious.
Ah, what better way to end the first chapter of a new fanfiction by using a cliché. I simply cannot think of a better way, well I can... but by the time you have read up to here, it's already too late to change it. Oh well. Maybe next time. Maybe not. We will just have to find out.
Anyways, this is a new fanfiction that I've been thinking about for a while and decided to give it a try cause why not.
Until next time.
-Pyrrhical