Chapter 8: The Wanderer
An inclement snow storm was outside the large wooden inn of the monastery. An old man sat in the corner, moaning in suffering and saw horrific demonic visions of his memory or dreams.
What the man saw was not for mortal eyes—he saw a flaming band of dark skeleton warriors with a dark figure in a cloak behind the flames, laughing its demonic sound…
The old wizened man finally woke from his many nightmares and saw the dark figure appear from the doorway. The snow was still falling behind him as a gush of cold air swept through the room.
The mumbling of the bar stopped, as all men cast their eyes upon the dark wanderer.
He walked in barely able to carry the weight of his sword. Could this be the great hero that saved the realm? The dilapidated dark figure? The cloaked man dragged his sword along as the other men in the room returned to their discourses.
Suddenly, the dark figure violently stuck his great sword into the wooden floor. Again, all eyes cast upon him. The wandered shook uncontrollably, as if he was trying to contain a demonic force inside him.
The men around the room laughed at this sight, but lo! The great hero lost his battle from within!
The flames in the room turned into hellish imps that jumped out of the urns and lit the inn ablaze. An aperture opened from the center as flames and condemned souls escaped from their hellish home.
Skeletons jumped out of the pit.
The men in the room screamed. Some tried to fight with their swords. But they were too weak, the skeletons stabbed them fiercely with inhuman speeds into the heart of the brave men.
Some men tried to run, but the damned souls penetrated their cowardly heart and flew right through. These men screamed in pain as their heart had just been vaporized inside them, fell to the ground on their knees and burned with the evil flames.
The wanderer at this time tried to contain these demons, and alas he did. But not without consequences. The inn was ablaze and all but the old wrinkled men survived.
The old man, without money, without family followed the wanderer soullessly out into the freezing storm as the oscillating shadows of the lamp above whimpered in pain…
"Harry! Harry!" Hermione shook Harry as his eyes slowly opened.
"Ahhh!!!!" Harry yelled.
"What is it Harry!" Hermione asked holding him to her bosom.
"The skeletons! The evil spirits! Hell!!! AHHHH!!!!!!!" Harry yelled again.
"Shhh, it's okay Harry," Hermione whispered stroking Harry's yet black hair.
When Harry calmed down he asked, "What time is it?"
"It's about nine PM, you said you were doing your homework, but when I walked in here, your eyes were closed and your whole body was trembling."
"Damn, it was so scary Hermione, it was scarier than anything I ever saw, even Volde.."
"Shh, don't talk Harry, just relax, we'll be at Hogwarts tomorrow and everything will be all right."
Indeed, tomorrow was the first day of school and Harry and Hermione had to take the train to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, the schoolmaster Dumbledoor was the most powerful wizard in the world, so they had nothing to fear—or so they thought.
Hermione just fell asleep stroking Harry's hair and holding him in his arms…
