The light wrenched open his eyes; the bright, translucent light. The last light he seen was…florescent red. Red, like electric blood. Red, like danger. Red, like death.
The last thing he remembered happening was the boy…the boy, he was in front of him, lying on the floor. Yes, yes they were on the floor together. He grabbed the wand in front of him and cast the red spell. Where was the boy? Was he dead? Did he finally kill him? Why did he not feel the burning in his body anymore, the burning that drove him to obsess over this boy's life, the burning that drove him to…want to kill him?
That damned light! It was the only thing burning him now, his pupils trembling and trying to jump to the back of his sockets. What was this place he was in? He didn't understand. He felt strangely whole, as if he was human. Of course, but he was human, always had been. Just in strange forms of skin and soul and face. But he was so weak right now, not the weak he felt when his felt himself being destroyed bits at a time, more of an emotional, exhausted kind of weakness. He felt a little bit pathetic, actually. The urge to stand was apparent. But he didn't know where his feet were. Nor his wand. Without a wand, he was just…a being. All that said, he was calm and even kind of peaceful. Peacefully weak. Peacefully being.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he felt a little stronger, and he was beginning to recognize. He was remembering. It was Kings Cross station. The place where it all began for him, really. The moment he got on that train, the moment he realised he was…special. Great, even. No longer a freak of nature. No, he felt euphoric the moment he stepped on that first step and into the carriage. He would never forget the old man telling him he was special. That he could do great things with this gift that so many considered an unwanted burden. Muggles could not appreciate magic, because they weren't aware of it. Once, he would laugh hysterically at the thought of sharing his world with such people. Now, he felt unphased about the whole thing, if not slightly remorseful. But not sad.
He wiggled his toes. He discovered a bench to his right side, so he reached out his arm against it to up himself. As he stood, he peered down at himself. He was no longer wearing his black cloak, but he was wearing a white one. It wasn't long and stately like the one he had adorned all those years; it was pleasant on the eye, this one. He couldn't find his feet for the silver mist covering the floor he had not even realised was there when he was lying there, it must have just manifested itself now. But he knew he was barefoot. Looking around, the station was empty. There was nobody there but him and the mist' he wondered if it meant something. Maybe, maybe it was the smoke from the train's chimney. But what train? There was no train. There was the wall, with the sign, "Platform 9 ¾" decorating it, and as his eyes met the sign, he felt what seemed like the remnants of a smile forming on his lips. He truly felt wanted at Hogwarts. Even though he was not the most popular boy, even though, even though he had so much rage in his soul, he was happy there. He was always wanting more, though. More than this, more than acceptance. A point to prove. But his mind would not let him go there, no matter how hard he tried to reminisce the demise of himself. The rise of Vold-
He heard the clock chime. It was twelve o clock, though he didn't know whether it was morning or night. The silver mist started to travel back into the wall, and he was wondering whether he should follow it. He broke into a slight jog at the intensity of his curiosity, gradually getting faster and faster and faster-
The white light manifested into the forefront of his vision again, and he found himself back on the floor. For a moment he felt like passing out, the light was so strong against his weak pupils; amlost painful, infact. He sat there for a while a bit dazed and dumbfounded and he was nothing for a moment. Then the light slowly began to seize and the place took form again. The station, The clock above him. The mist was gone; instead, a new kind of object was in front of him.
It was a woman.
"Hello, Tom. Welcome to redemption."