"How long has it been since it all happened?" inquired the troubled mind of the young university student.
His eyes gazed at the people before him. Brown eyes blazed dreamy at his surroundings, gleaming in their chestnut intensity, glowing with a cunning and an intelligence only present in his person.
"Too long!" his mind answered, "or was it yesterday?" it inquired again, walking round and gliding by the same thoughts over an over as his eyes observed without observing.
The artificial light licked his hair with the pale, silvery rays, making it blaze with fire. He, unconsciously, ran a hand through the already wild and tame less hair, making each strand point one side or other, like the crests of a flame, flickering calmly in slow motion. Indeed, the air conditioner shook his hair so gently it seemed almost as if his head ignited with the red and orange glow of fire.
The boy sighed, returning his hand to rest by his side numbly. He felt the drops of sweat trickling down his forehead, tickling his pale skin, caressing each cell with their cold fingers. He motioned his hand once again, rubbing the uncomfortable fluid off his brow, and sighing once again. Although the air conditioner was on, and there was not a terrible amount of people present in the wagon, the heat was increasing considerably.
"Maybe I'm getting sick!" thought the boy once again, observing the people around him now with a growing interest.
A medium aged woman was fanning herself insistently with one of those flyers someone gave them at the entrance of the underground, those that ended up scattered at the very same entrance, or piling themselves inside a full dustbin. An old man had his head pinned back, a trail of drool falling almost viscously down the corner of his mouth, his breathing paused signal he was dozing. A young woman was having trouble in controlling a little kid, who seemed to be getting bored by the second and had decided to play races up and down the wagon.
"Interesting!" thought the boy, taking in a deep breath, feeling the hot air filling his lungs with a painful pressure. He gasped and bent down slightly.
Someone stared at him, maybe interested, maybe disdainfully. He heard words about drugs and looked around. Two girls were talking about their glorious weekend. He knew them, they were from his class, yet paid them little, if no attention at all.
"Good for you!" he thought to himself, staring at the two girls with dislike, "Remind me so much of those two gits, Parvati and Lavender" his thoughts concluded, for no more focus would be given to them.
He looked down, at his feet, and felt the vehicle moving. It slithered gently past the station, leaving it behind and penetrating the terrible mouth of darkness. A black veil engulfed them immediately, and all clarity came from the bulbs hanging over their heads. But nobody noticed the terrible, anguishing shadows that lurked behind the weak, feeble glass, observing them, ready to pounce over them in any second. But he did notice, yet, all was lost now. His hands clutched the books so strongly that they bent slightly.
"It's been so long, yeah! It's been so long!" he thought again, bored about his stance in the train, and the monotony of every day's trip, "however the outcome shouldn't have been that! That wasn't the outcome we all expected, it wasn't how things were to turn out!" the boy thought desperately, lowering his head more and shutting his eyes tightly.
He felt humid and warm tears streaming down his cheeks in dense and profuse rivers. He bared his teeth, keeping himself from sobbing, keeping them so firmly closed and pressed that it was painful. His fingers clutched the books once again strongly, his knuckles white from the pressure, his nails digging into the paper with frustration and anger.
Brown eyes opened once again to gaze around, darkness still looming around him, gliding past the windows, chuckling and smirking at him cruelly with coal red eyes and glistening, razor fangs. He could see those terrible features there, in the glass, standing before the rails like a horrible dementor, absorbing his vital delight and his sanity. Returning his attention to the contents of the train, evading the ghost of his past, the young adult observed the people again. Or tried to.
"What?" he inquired himself in the silent voice of his mind, so much like his own, yet so different and wise.
Before it had seemed just that the heat was rising, that summer arrived and the passing hours increased the temperature of the environment. It was a logical solution, wasn't it? A woman fanning herself was a hint to corroborate his thoughts. He was sweating profusely, yet didn't worry much. Now he was convinced that his health had been affected by something, virus, bacteria, yet it was affecting his integrity.
Vision unfocused, blurry. The student could not understand what was happening to him, yet knew he was ill. It was not surprising, the way he had worked and studied so hard for his exams, unlike him, yet he had changed. Everybody had changed. As cruel as the world had been for him, and each hard kick and beat had finally transformed him into the boy he was today.
But now it wasn't the moment to think about his changes, his shadows, and his ghosts. Indeed, he was leaned against the door, trying to focus his vision, blinking continuously. To no avail, for it seemed to be getting worse by the second, more blurry, more unfocused, colours blending and mixing. It seemed as if raindrops were falling over the surface of a lake, the waves distorting the image reflected over it, transforming it into something deformed and shapeless. That was the way he was seeing now.
Far from getting better, it was getting worse. Suddenly several shots of pain raced down his spine, making him gasp hardly, hoarsely. That was when the people, oblivious about the existence of the student, became aware of him. A woman approached him and held out a hand, a worried glance being placed upon him, and a concerned voice fluctuating through the numb veil covering him.
"Are you ok?" inquired the woman staring down at him, almost studying him.
"Stupid question!" thought the boy, "Depends on what you consider being fine!" his thoughts concluded, yet he restrained himself from throwing such words at the unidentified being before him.
"I'm fine! Just need air!" he said in a dry voice, refusing the aiding hand being placed for him.
"Stupid answer, but what am I to say? It's what people say when they don't feel right!" he thought to himself.
The boy walked forward with weak, stumbling and unsteady paces. Suddenly the train's floor had become the nervous and always motioning surface of an oceanic beach. Waves breaking upon the rocks, moving him back and forth, shaking the only solid point on which he could stand. And there, before him, safety, the glossy metal of a dirty bar, the colour of silver. It was his only hope of gaining the frontiers of sanity, of health, and reaching the fresh air that would cure him from the heat stroke he was suffering.
He extended his hand, smiling weakly, reaching the cold metal, caressing it with the tips of his fingers. It was there, standing before him, holding out its palm at him, urging him to go on, to be valiant and move forward. To hold it. He did, he pounced forward, or thought he did for all movement was an enormous amount of effort, and his feeble swaying was like jumping across a cannon. He opened his fingers as wide as he could, plunged forward, threw his hand at the bar, and missed.
Missed, the manly fingers closed around air. The student miscalculated, and all his effort was pointless. He felt his body falling backwards, slow motion. People closed in around him, arms moved forward to take a hold of him. Yet all were too far, or were too doubtful to approach someone who could have some terrible, contagious sickness. However, the young boy fell through the floor, and dived into a terrible darkness.
He was being absorbed, shadows finally encircling him, engulfing his figure, taking a firm grip around the tall and thin body and pulled him further inside, deeper down. He saw the shadows crawling below him, gliding above him, hissing at him from everywhere, slashing threatening and clawing at the atmosphere. The boy, gaining control over his paralyzed and terrified body, spinned and landed on his feet.
He stared around, yet all he saw were shadows and darkness encircling him. His heart was beating furiously, terror filled eyes glistened like red coals in the darkness when he looked further in, finding nothing but the fact that ground and sky were all one.
"Where am I?" he inquired to himself, for nobody would be there to answer, or nobody he considered friendly enough to grant him response over his doubts.
A roar, a growl, a terrible, deep, purr that echoed from the depths of the terrible depths in a threatening way. The boy turned around to encounter a pair of silver eyes, staring at him pleased, delighted. A white spirit appeared from the depths, his sole presence so beautiful and terrifying at once that the shadows retreated and recoiled to demonstrate respect and fear.
"Who are you?" inquired the boy, fearfully, and yet gaining all the courage accumulated in order to release it in something that could bring him answer to his actual problems.
"Me? I'm your worst nightmare!" said the shadow in a terrible, dry hiss, a voice that was so fearfully familiar to the youngster.
It was as if a resort sprang in his mind, auctioning the necessary mechanisms necessary for his survival. His eyes widened with the surprise of the words heard, the impact that this familiar beast with argent eyes pursued him. The boy, gaping with his mouth wide open, maybe attempting to response, or just to silently yell. He turned around, praying for his security, and leapt onto a run that broke his very own boundaries.
Darkness and shadows vanished suddenly, leaving a deserted parade, a harsh environment that blazed red with fire, steamed with boiling heat, and bloomed with hard, razor and sharp rocks that threatened a terrible harm. The parade was of a terrifying beauty, for it was marvellous, with its red and tan rocks, the sky a gleaming fire licking the whole area with a unbearably hot tongue. Yet the boy was not to admire the magnificence of the surroundings, his attention placed on his safety.
The white spirit, with a thunderous roar, had leapt forward interested in capturing the student, and maybe do who knows what to him. The blazing haired boy stole a glance behind, claws razor like knives, curved blades that were nothing but a menace. Fangs long like fingers, sharp like arrows that spoke of pain and suffering. Eyes cold like steel, like ice, in their passiveness sending a message that spoke of no mercy.
The boy knew he could never outrun the spirit, it was obvious, yet he still ran, for there was nothing else he could do. He was conscious of his demise, but was decided not to leave without putting up a fight at least. He didn't realize, however, that the distance was maintained for their speed was similar, and kept in balance, hence the flaming haired student was not to think about absurd probabilities. He simply saw the beast leap, fangs drooling bloodthirsty, claws glistening like sharp swords ready to dive into feeble, soft flesh.
In that moment, and as if the events had not been strange enough, a dragon emerged from the ground. It appeared as if the beast was leaping out of a very muddy pond, for the ground didn't break, it splashed like drops of hot, fluid iron. The boy cringed and held to the flaming brown mane of the dragon as it flew upwards from under his feet. His grip on the magnificent creature was titanic, hope bringing in a breeze of freshness to his pained lungs. The white spirit simply observed him from below, not frustrated, not angry, simply smirking with patience.
The beast was enormous, beautiful like no other creature he had ever seen before, of a bright, copper colour, velvet scales. It had a fine head, similar to a dog's face, yet with very intelligent, deep brown eyes. Like everything in this terrifying world, this saviour reminded him of someone he knew well, he knew and appreciated.
His hopes were to be vanished way too soon as he saw the dragon gaining heights, approaching a ceiling of darkness and shadows, the same sky he had fallen in through. He tugged hard at the dragon's hard, rough hair, pulling simply to gain her attention.
"No, stop! Don't go through there!" The boy screamed fearfully, staring at the shadows, at the darkness with crazed eyes filled with terror. He knew he didn't want another encounter with the ghosts of his past.
But to no avail, for the beast was either oblivious of his existence, or ignoring his pleading words. She approached the darkness, opened the teeth full mouth, and emerged into the depths of that dense, and enormous night. The boy screamed, yelling with all his might for nothing better to do. He covered his head with his arms, protectively yet hopelessly, letting loose from the beast and pressing with his legs in order of not falling. He turned his head to the right, yet always focused his gaze, sided, onto the darkness that was swallowing his saviour.
And his eyes snapped open abruptly, as well as his lung took in a large gulp of air. The student felt as if he had not been breathing for a few seconds, and his lungs ached lightly, as well as his head, which was sore. His gaze was still slightly unfocused, yet now it regained normality, now observing a gleam of light far into the distance, and the sillouettes of various people. Indeed, he was surrounded by a great amount of curious men and women, of all ages.
"He is breathing!" said a triumphant man, one which's face was still undefined for the boy.
"Yeah, but what is he?" said the voice of a woman.
"I'm not sure, he looks human but…!" said another voice into the tide of people that bent before him.
"What? What are they talking about?" the boy inquired himself, realizing from the suave swaying of the floor that he was still on the train.
"Hey, cool disguise, where is the party?" said another voice, from a young man, finishing with a laugh.
"Mommy, san I touch him?" said the little child that had been nervously running up and down the wagon.
"Touch me?" the boy thought alarmed, tensing his muscles and attempting to stand and leap away from the strange likes of this young child.
"Don't go near it!" shrieked the young mother, alarmed, and pulling the child away from the closeness of the young student.
"I'm not an it! What's going on?" thought the boy once again, staring confusedly around.
"Hey, what's happening? Why are you all staring at me as if you have never seen something like me before?" snapped the boy, now visibly annoyed at the events occurring around him.
"He talks!" several people announced utterly admired at such fact.
"Of course I talk, what where you expecting?" snapped the boy standing up, his body was feeling slightly numb, and he felt as if ants were running down his skin, hence he was feeling fine now.
Suddenly, the people around him recoiled alarmed. They pointed at him without any sort of shame, or education, and seemed as interested as fearful. How could they fear him tho? He was nothing but a boy with books who was travelling towards his faculty, ready to do the very few last exams before summer vacations.
"What…what's going on?" he muttered now startled and frightened.
"Isn't that Ron?" muttered one of the girls from his class.
"Yeah, I think so, but what happened to him?" inquired the other girl.
"Lisa, Fawn, what is happening?" Ron inquired helplessly, staring at the two girls with a saddening look praying to know the way of things.
Aside from helping him, the two girls shrieked, and ran to the other side of the train. Murmurss, whispers, thoughts and various, disdainful insults surrounded the poor boy, making him walk backwards until his back was pressed against the train's cold glass. Suddenly he seemed to realize something, why people where so startled, so frightened. Ron turned rapidly, his hand seeking the precious item that was to acompain him through eternity, for it meant his life.
Ron had thought that maybe the revelation of his want might have induced this people into fear. It was logical, after the events of three years ago, that people would fear wizards over all things. But something so rapid like a glimpse on the window, a stray gaze that ran past the cold glass, yet saw enough to catch his attention. Ron might have thought that the fact of him being a wizard had frightened these people, but how close and far from the truth. Whatever he expected, he surely would never have imagined this would be possible, and that it would happen to him.
To Be Continued…
AN: Just something I came across, I guess, my mind is crazy however. Anyways, try to guess what is happening to Ron, I'd like to see what you people think about it. What is the thing that makes people fear him? Who are the mysterious creatures in his vision? Why of everything? Obviously, it will all be revealed at the end of the story, which won't be too long, so keep reading please.