He knew that time was passing. It was difficult to tell in the strangling darkness, but Daniel could feel it moving. The fading pain was his only indicator that time was flowing.
When Daniel had first been first been banished to this hellish blackness, the intense agony he felt was unbearable. It had been all over his body, writhing into his skin, burning like liquid fire through his veins with every frantic heartbeat. The pain had burst into his brain unexpectedly, and the soundless scream that burst from his burning lungs followed him into unconsciousness.
After Daniel again awoke, or assumed he was awake since the world beyond his eyelids was just as shadowed, the pain was slightly subdued. Each heartbeat racked Daniel's body with pain, and his eyes felt like they were going to burst. His headache had mellowed to a powerful throbbing that felt blinding, but only if he could see in the first place. Daniel attempted to move, which proved to be a big mistake. The agony slammed into him, made worse by the brief respite he had. Blissful unconsciousness freshly claimed him.
As time elapsed, the pain slowly subsided. If it subsided in centuries or mere seconds, Daniel could not say, but he was grateful for each breath that became easier, if he was breathing. Besides the constant misery, Daniel's body felt numb, as though suffering a form of paralysis. The inky darkness still bothered him, and occasionally he would tremble as he stared at the dark, empty world. However, the trembling would import painful afflictions, and eventually it would heighten until Daniel could no longer tolerate it. So, Daniel learned to cope with the darkness.
Ultimately the sharp paroxysms became dull aches, just noticeable if focused upon. Soon after this calm, Daniel saw…something. It was visibly lighter than his timeless, lightless purgatory, and immediately Daniel struggled towards it. Ignoring the sharp stab of pain, he rushed towards the now visible light. A low thrumming roar shook the darkness, and burning agony laced up his legs. Giving out a cry of desperation, Daniel lunged towards the light with all of his strength, clawing with limbs weighed down by slick, slimy tendrils to get to his single source of hope.
Unexpectedly, a green light burst from the small pinprick of light, forcing Daniel to shield himself from the burning glare. He couldn't escape it, and the tendrils of his once dark world wrapped around him in what felt like an attempt to tear his body apart. A scream wrenched itself from Daniel's hoarse throat, the realization that he could hear it making him jolt. The green light was expanding, and when it finally engulfed Daniel's surroundings he realized something; his nightmarish world was screaming too.
Harry Potter bolted up in his bed with a scream formed in his throat. His heart beat frantically in his chest, and his gasping breaths did little to soothe its fluttering. The agony had felt so real… In fact, the scar on his forehead felt inflamed. The terror he had experienced seemed to rake at his fragile mind. But… they hadn't been his emotions or his mind. He had experienced it, but he would never react with such cowardice, and Harry had no fear of the dark.
Yet, that terror and agony was too tangible for comfort. Harry shivered and pulled the red blankets closer to his head. The room felt darker and lonelier. That man in his dream… no, nightmare, had little recollection of his life. The poor fellow did something to himself to forget his past life. That action had left the man alone, and in a harsh, desolate world full of gruesome horrors and cruelty. It was no life to step into.
Harry gathered himself and tossed the light blanket away from his body. It crumpled into an ungainly red heap at the foot of the mattress. Harry felt a strange anxiousness. Pausing in his shuffling attempts to get out of bed, Harry took a moment to put on his glasses and get his bearings as the room came into focus. Ron was snoring softly, his face nearly smothered by the pillow he clung to. Dean, Seamus and Neville were also sleeping soundly, so none of them had felt the disturbance. "Well," Harry thought, "it's not like they could have shared my dream."
Glancing out the window, Harry saw that dawn was a while away. Perhaps he could sneak into the library for some answers. Just as he was about to get out of bed, a shiver went through his entire body, hair rising on the back of his neck. A noise broke the relative quiet, one that stood starkly against the peaceful silence of the sleepy room. It was harsh, like air blowing rapidly through a small space. Harry realized it was someone breathing in short gasps, as though struggling to breathe. A slight whimper started to accompany it, and the increasing pitch sent another chill down Harry's spine.
Gathering his courage, Harry whipped around, gasping in shock at what he saw. A man stood near the edge of his bed, looking deathly ill. His gaunt face was a peculiar light-blue hue, and his green eyes were sunk into the thin, pale flesh that covered his skull, the eye sockets engulfing the emerald eyes in dark holes. The man's body was hidden beneath a long, baggy brown coat laced down the center, but he seemed to be quite thin.
"Is this man Sirius Black? Has he finally come to finish the job he botched years ago?" Harry thought. A rush of anger burst through Harry's veins, and he made to launch himself at the man who murdered his parents and poor Peter Pettigrew.
The man jumped back from Harry's bed with a startled cry, startling Harry as well. Harry stared at the man's eyes as they twitched about in a mad terror. Frightened, Harry scrambled for his wand, the man staggering away from him, arms flailing about in a pacifying manner. Feeling the familiar holly wood beneath his fingers, Harry lifted his wand and yelled, "Lumos!"
A white glow immediately illuminated. The strange man gasped but became still, staring intensely at the glowing wand, his breathing steading and his expression relaxing. "No, is this was Sirius Black, he would've killed me then and there." Still wary, Harry moved off the bed and onto the floor, watching as the man's eyes followed the light, his body swaying ever-so-slightly towards the wand.
Although the man had calmed down considerably, there was something… off about him that Harry couldn't place. As Harry moved closer to Ron's bed to wake him, he realized with a jolt that the man was transparent. This man was a ghost.
Still scared, but now curious, Harry looked the man in the eyes once more. The ghost did not seem to notice Harry, transfixed by the light Harry held. "I wonder if this ghost can think properly," Harry thought pensively. Worried, Harry decided that he had to get the man's attention first.
"Who are you?" Harry asked slowly.
Harry's voice shocked the man, and he flung himself backwards, breathing hitching again in panic. Harry just managed to catch the ghost's eye before he fled. The ghost yelped when he passed through the door, loudly enough to stir the other inhabitants of the room, but then the noise and the ghost were gone.
Ron rose slightly from his bed, all messy ginger hair and bleary eyes. He muttered, "Keep it down, Harry, and would you kindly turn off that bloody light?"
Harry extinguished his wand, and Ron gratefully thumped his head back down, easily resuming his slumber. Harry made his way back to his own bed, puzzled and to some extent nervous. Was this the omen Professor Trelawney read in his tea leaves? If death dd follow him, a ghost would fit the description perfectly.
