Chapter 1
Harry sat on the train. He listened to the wheels skim silently over the metal tracks and the rattling sound of the rest of the train's old and beaten body. He looked out the window. The dry landscape rushed by. The grass was brown. The houses were black as though they had been burnt in a recent fire. The sky was grey. A storm was coming. The air Harry breathed into his lungs was hot and dry, as though sucking the moisture out of his body and leaving him flat and empty. Beside him, Ginny massaged her clitoris. Averting his eyes, Harry looked at the floor. It was grimy with dirt and filth and the remains of dead cockroaches. Ginny moaned but Harry ignored her. The train sped on.
Harry could see no people. Everywhere was deserted. As they passed a larger village, Harry wondered who had lived there. Had they liked it? What had happened to them? But there was no use wondering what had happened to them. Harry knew the answer to that. It was the same thing that had happened to him. Everyone was on the run.
They passed as station but the train didn't stop. Harry felt hollow. A slight feeling of nausea encroached on his stomach. He decided not to look out the window but instead stare straight ahead. The walls of the train were once white. The paint had peeled. They weren't white anymore.
Harry heard a whimper from a nearby seat. He looked over to find who it had come from. It was Uncle Vernon. Alone. Harry rose from his seat. Slowly he walked over towards his uncle. Vernon whimpered again. His face was large but not pink as it had used to be. His skin was a sallow sickly grey. His entire body was wet. It was sweat. Repulsed and intrigued, Harry peered closer. Vernon had his eyes closed.
Harry returned to his seat. The motion of the train rocked him back and forth, as if lulling him into a primordial sleep. Harry slept. He did not know for how long. He opened his eyes. The train was groaning to a halt. They had arrived.