Harry opened his eyes into a weird white world. His mind felt sluggish and stretched, as if reality had turned to glue. Garbled noises moved around him, beyond a veil. Something was uttered very close to him. Harry was aware of it. He didn't try to move. He didn't have a very clear idea of who he was.

Nor did it matter. Shadows rolled from him as he drifted upwards, into the light.

The clarity shocked him. He had been a vague being; suddenly, as if by a snap of bone, he was Harry Potter. A grey life stretched in front of and behind him as if rolled out like a carpet – but it was more like a road. A single road into the void. Nothingness let go of him.

Harry groaned.

The sound rasped from his dry throat and flashes of pain bloomed in his brain. Each action brought him further from the comforting oblivion. He could make out the words in the sounds around him now, thought they were still round and unfamiliar.

"Oh God…"

He couldn't think who the voice might belong to. He was a nobody. Everybody he loved was dead.

No. That wasn't right. Harry Potter was dead.

No, again. Harry Potter was very much alive. The boy he had been was dead. That tenacious spark was gone.

Greyness filled his head, but the words intruded.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

They had a strange tone, something that made the part of himself that still remembered twinge with feeling. Who was this person? Who disturbed his dreams?

While he asked the questions, he knew they weren't sincere. Harry Potter couldn't feel curiosity. He was dead on the inside. Maybe he was dead on the outside as well. Maybe he wouldn't mind. But it certainly seemed like a strange heaven.

Author's Note:

AARGH!


I know! That was only 304 words! Not even a chapter! I'll call it an interlude, because I need to talk to you. Just a reminder – I have not abandoned this story. I don't want to abandon it. I was having a lot of fun with it before November began, and hopefully will have a lot of fun afterwards too.

But I come before you to tell you that you, in all probability, will not get another chapter before the end of November. It sucks, seriously sucks, I know, but I'll do my best to get another one out before the end. I can't promise anything. I thought I could do everything – work, school, two heavy-duty sets of writing chores – but I can't. NaNoWriMo has to take precedence because, frankly, this can wait and November won't. I wish it was different. I'll try to use my Sundays productively.

Currently, I'm at 15,697 words. Pitiful for the eighth of November. I was ahead by quite a good cushion, but I squandered it on emotional crises. If you don't hate me too much, wish me luck? As it is – good luck to any of my dear readers doing NaNo!