Author's Note: I know. It's weird. I'm weird. :)
--
It burns.
The pain in his veins is scaldingly hot; it burns and burns all throrough, and now he knows how one would feel if someone replaced their blood with molten magma.
He cannot think, for the pain is too great. There's only one thought in his mind, chanting over and over and over until it's the only sentence he had ever spoken. Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop...
His throat is hoarse from screaming. He had lost his voice a long, long time ago; it feels like centuries now. His body is nothing but a distant memory, and in this new world, filled with red and soaring blindness, the pain is the only constancy.
Nothing else matters anymore.
In the beginning, he tries to think of happy things. He tries to think about Ron and Hermione, about Ginny and his adopted family, the Weasleys. He remembers his best Quidditch matches and the short time spent with Sirius.
But then the realization dawns on him - pain is the only force now. No happy memories will stop it, no remembered laughter ease it away.
His mind is numb now, shouting out in pain long after his throat had given up.
The chanting changes now. Let me go let me go let me die already...
Because nothing can put an end to the pain but death. Only death can defy the laws of living, of pain, of burning.
When, at last, the world goes black and the boy loses all traces of consciousness, even his mind is not shouting anymore and the chanting had fallen silent.
--
Harry Potter wakes up screaming in his own bed, sweat running down his forehead and soft pillows comforting his body.
He does not notice the small trickle of blood from the vein on his neck, or the red eyes watching him viciously from the corner of the room.
