A/N: This is the first part of the last story! It's been two years, but I'm going to start posting it. Hopefully people will read. Enjoy!
There are muggle television screens in the air. They have no body, no plastic. Screens without dimensions, they flicker and they blink. One shows a boy; a man; a man-boy. A man-boy, running running running into woods and across fields and into air and into nothing. Running running running. And there's no life anywhere but his life, but it's draining and becoming like the fields and air he runs through. Desolate. Forgotten.
There's another screen and the man-boy in it shields his face and guards his mind but it's hopeless. It's coming and it's spiraling through and down and into him. And his black hair is matted and he's lost proper vision and his eyes no longer see in front of him, because all he sees is nothing. Nothing, nothing. And guilt.
And it's not my guilt. It's not my guilt and not my fault and Merlin everything is closing in on me. It's not my guilt, the people don't scream for fear of me, not me. Not me. It's not my guilt. It's not my guilt. It's not my fault. It's not my guilt.
And he stuffs his ears with dirt and grass and anything that will block them but he still hears the screaming and the terror and the blood. The blood, the blood that became rivers and pools that day, so many swam through and they fell asleep in them because of one spell. And they wouldn't wake up.
Wake up, wake up, wake up up up up, wake up. No, don't fall asleep, don't fall, no sleep, sleep, don't sleep, don't fall. Please, please, please. It's wrong, this is wrong, it never should have happened. I tried, I tried, I thought I won. I thought I made it right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry. Don't fall asleep. It's not my guilt. It's his, and he's swimming with you and you are all sleeping. No. No. Don't sleep, I can't sleep. No, no.
There are screens filled with pools. Screens that scream with the noise and the horror. Millions of screens stacked upon millions of screens, all with pools. All with the pools the man-boy fears, dreads, watches them fall into. And they're all there, lying in the pools, the rivers, the waterfalls and he's running. Running, running.
One screen is invisible. It seems invisible, because it only shows the world the man-boy sees, the one that's ever changing. It's colors and there's no horizon and no vertical point and it's all moving, waves of malleable world that shift and twist around to become everything. But everything is only the color and the screens. And the shrieks and things in the screens.
He knows, for certain, that there's one screen somewhere, somehow, that's of the man-boy before he became a man-boy, before the shrill cries. And he was only a boy, and there was water on his back and in his eyes. And in his eyes he could see, could feel another boy, another boy he touched and felt and –
"You're mine."
Maybe there are other screens before that one, that one that's different, and the man-boy is certain there are others… He just doesn't remember.
But he does remember that the world hasn't been color for forever, that it was but then it wasn't, and it was fading, disappearing, over-powered by the screaming. But the color suddenly bled in again, after so long, and he doesn't know why. But he does know that new screens came with the color, new screens, and he doesn't know how they got there, how they keep appearing in larger numbers, but he knows that they do.
White screens. Screens of white. And glass. Where in the world, where am I?
With the color he's positive there came a numbing, a chilling, a comfortable sense that was familiar but not. It was different from his forever in monotone. And when the color came and the numbing there, he would have jumped and whooped with excitement, but he couldn't move, he can't move. He can't move his eyes from the screens, but if he could he would look down and he's convinced there wouldn't be a body there if he tried finding one. And he can't move nor see his hands, so he's sure that they're not there either. But he sees his hands, body, him in the screens, the ones he can't look away from, so he never looks down.
A new screen appears. With the color it comes, and he can see, see so clearly. Eyes. He can see eyes the color of the monotone his world once was, and the man-boy can only stare. And the world stops, and the colors don't move, and the chilling numb comes back with those eyes. Things are tinted, tinting, tainting, tainted green. The man-boy gawks. And there is no screaming.
No screaming. Gone. Screaming gone. Those, those eyes, everything's green but those eyes…
And then the screen disappears.
No, no, no no no. Screaming. Screaming. No, no screaming, it was gone, gone. It shouldn't be back. It was gone. The eyes made it go away. Those eyes, I know those eyes. They make everything go away. No, stop, stop. Stop screaming, I can't. I can't do anything. Can't help, heal, can't do anything. Stop, stop. I told you, told you stop. Told you it's not my guilt, not mine. Please stop. Stop, please, please stop.
The screens don't not blink. The screaming never stops.
New ones appear, new screens, but they only flicker and there's nothing in them but words. Words. And they shut off the screaming and resound, round around and round. There's no understanding, no use understanding, but it continues and the words stop the screaming when they're there.
And the eyes; the eyes belong to that voice, the man-boy knows, but he doesn't know how he knows. But there's only the voice and there are no eyes, and eventually the voice fades and the screaming comes back.
There are bed straps in the screen. A new screen. And the screaming gets louder and louder. The bed straps fall, away, and then there's a hallway and the hallway moves toward and away and then there's someone, someone, a someone with eyes. And the screaming, it's awakening everything and the screens with the pools are flooding the others, ruining, spoiling them all.
But those eyes. They're not monotone, but muddy. They're not monotone, but they could be, they are, but they're not. And the screaming continues but the world stops moving, and the eyes are in the man-boys arms.
I don't understand, why, why is the world stopped but the screaming not. Why, why? Eyes, those eyes aren't right but they are and I don't understand, don't understand at all. They should fit, should be right, but they aren't, they don't belong, but they have to. I don't know, why, why, why don't I know?
The pools begin to invade the screen, staining it, but the man-boy holds onto the eyes and he won't let go, never let go.
Why, tell me why you don't fit? Why, why isn't there the voice, why aren't the screams stopped? Why do you not fit but do? Why, tell me, why, why, make me understand. Don't leave me, no, don't leave me, make me understand.
Green, the screen turns green. The eyes fall closed and then are gone. And the world moves and the colors with it and there's a rage and betrayal that joins the screaming and they shriek together, entwined. And everything's moving, moving, swirling, twisting, molding –
Everything is too quick, moving too quick. Too many screens, I don't know what's going on, I'm lost, gone, lost and I don't know where I am. I've never known, never known, but now I know I don't know –
And then it stops.
There's a deathly silence, and the screams fall into the pools with those who won't wake up, and the colors are stopped and the eyes… The eyes are right and monotone and get closer and closer. And there's a hand and the eyes are open and they stare, only ever stare, and they're closer and closer and nothing moves, sounds, breathes, only feels and it feels like there should be water spraying onto his back and–
"Mine."
There's a new screen, a flickering screen, with only words, but he can't hear them, because there's another screen, and there's a woman, a bottle of pent up energy and she's red and dark and raging and he unstops her and she's falling, falling, falling and draining pouring emptying…
And the screen turns green.
The colors, the world, the everything turns green.
And there's that screen, the one before with only words, and he can't understand, but the man-boy tries, tries…
But there's a screen, a red screen, a new screen, and the man-boy is there. With him is a man, a red man. And the man-boy tries to remember where he's seen the red man before. With them is a woman, the bottle woman, but there's no red, no dark, no raging. Now in her base is a light, a gold light, and it grows and grows and swells and it tickles the man-boy's eyes.
And he laughs. And there's no screaming, no sound but laughing, good laughing, but there are screens and screens and new screens and it's all moving so fast, too fast, and, and –
There are muggle television screens in the air. They have no body, no plastic. Screens without dimensions, they flicker and they blink. One shows a boy; a man; a man-boy. And he's listening to something he can't understand, shouldn't understand, that he didn't understand before, not until his world turned green, and what he hears now will echo and forever keep the screaming stopped.
"Harry…Harry…Harry…"
And he knows that voice. It belongs to the eyes, the ones that stop everything and remind him of showers. But he doesn't recall whose they are.