Chapter 21 - Heavy is the head that falls with the weight of a thousand thoughts

"They used to call you the man with no name."

"These days, they got a name for just about everything," The spirit said, finally turning to face him. "It doesn't matter what they call ya."

"It's the deeds that make the man."

He felt the words hit him like a bullet, piercing through him and shifting something inside. Still, the man walked away.

"But my deeds just made things worse!" He could not keep the desperation out of his voice. The sadness. The shame. "My friends believed in me, but, they need some kind of hero."

"Then be a hero."

Another bullet, another shift. Things were going blurry, less detailed. The man and his alabaster chariot were the only clear things.

"Oh, oh no, you-you don't understand!" Incredulity and hesitation and fear made his tongue stutter over the words. "I'm not even supposed to be here!"

"That's right. You came a long way just to find something that isn't out here."

A third bullet, almost physical. He staggered back, feeling the weight settle in his chest as his wide eyes took in the spirit for what felt like the first time since the conversation started.

"You came a long way just to find something that isn't out here."

"Don't you see?" The towering man said, mouth barely moving to let his rough voice through. A sudden shift of his eyes, something new catching their attention. "It's not about you, it's about them."

Every fiber of his being fought against the truth in the man's words, fear driving his denial of what he knew had to be done.

"But I can't go back." Disbelief tingled the words as he watched with wide, wavering eyes as the spirit ignored him after stating what seemed like a simple fact from his perspective.

"Don't know that you got a choice, son."

One last bullet, guided by the man's harsh eyes, straight to his head. He staggered and blinked tears out of his eyes.

Nothing was clear in his vision anymore. Everything was distorted, and the spirit, the only thing clear, did not tower over him anymore. But the man wasn't looking at him.

He was looking at me.

His eyes pierced through my soul, looking at each and every scattered fragment all at once.. One of his fingers came up to the dirty acrylic separating us, using the dirt as his canvas, and framing me in a square

"No man can walk out on his own story."

Nathan jumped awake, choking on a scream and his tears. The man's shade haunted him, blurry shadows in the room seeming to glare fiercely at him

He rushed to the bathroom, his head dunking ritual helping to calm his nerves. Even through the fear of seeing the man behind him, Nathan still couldn't resist the pull of his reflection in the dirty mirror. It was the same as always, ragged and exhausted. The last of his nerves drained away.

Nathan watched the window as he changed, the cloudless blue sky painting the room in vivid light through the glass. His mind wandered back to his first visit to his friend, when he had joked about the good weather to hang out.

Without sparing a second thought to the decision he had come up with on the spot, Nathan grabbed his things, wrapping Hermione's scarf loosely around his shoulder, and stepped out of his room, intent on visiting his friend.

In no time he was outside the pub, outside the shimmering barrier that seemed to be the only protection against it being found. A shiver passed through him as he stepped into the already busy London streets.

His mind wandered just like his own feet, traveling to the days he had spent with his friends.

Time spent visiting Neville, talking about weird plants and tending to his garden. Time divided between prancing after elusive creatures with Luna, and watching the tears in her eyes be cleared by a ghost as the summer rain harmonized with his guitar.

Time used to give back to Harry what was stolen from him. Teaching him how to ride a bike around a lush park. Making fun of a horrible movie on an empty session. Forcing him to eat different types of food to see his reaction, and to make sure he ate enough.

Nathan shook himself off his train of thought as he descended down the stairs into the subway, taking the money out of his pockets to buy a ticket. Even if the knight bus was faster, as Harry had made sure he knew first hand, he would prefer to use it as little as possible.

Nausea swirled in his stomach as he stepped into the train, the memory of the horrible ride enough to make him queasy.

The sweaty smell from the packed train only made it all worse.

Nathan couldn't help the hatred he had for this street.

Houses lined up perfectly, each a carbon copy of the other, from one point of the street to the next. They were small and tidy, and seemed to create a wall that trapped him between one side and the other. It was even more stifling than the terrifyingly tall buildings of the city.

A break in the pattern appeared, giving way to an expanse of short yellowish grass. He could see people moving in the far distance, where a playground seemed to be situated.

Buzzing assaulted his ears, Nathan blinking harshly to get rid of the sand dancing in his eyes. He opened them once more to see ghosts about, frozen and looking in the same directions as him, not one of them sparing him a glance.

He fled with hurried steps, restlessness stirring within him as he reached his friends house. The disconnected feet were in the same place as always as he went to the back yard, immediately scaling the wall.

Harry wasn't in his room. The uneasy feeling grew as he dropped down, circling back to the front door to knock with hands he knew were beginning to shake. An unpleasant man opened the door, a scowl on his face. It did not stop Nathan from talking.

"Is Harry home?" He asked, forgoing politeness.

The man's frown somehow seemed to deepen, his face going a sickening shade of red. "I already told you freaks not to bother us!" He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "I already have to deal with enough with the boy forced under my roof!"

Nathan had already started walking away, the distant sound of the door slamming shut spurring him into a jog. His head swiveled as he went, his unease surging into panic even as he tried to keep himself calm. It didn't work because he had no idea why he was so anxious.

His feet took him back to the clearing, the ghosts still lingering, still looking in the same direction. Slowly, one by one, they turned their gazes to him. Nathan took a trembling breath, forcing himself to acknowledge the spirits around him, going where they told him to go.

"That's hell you're walking into."

Nathan stopped, every part of him frozen to stone; all except his despairing brain. Panic weakened its hold, and he turned on his heel. The ghosts all looked at him with familiarity.

"No man can walk out on his own story."

He didn't freeze, but he did feel like something was holding him back. His eyes closed in fear as he took a shuddering breath. He turned back once more, eyes still shut, and walked where he had to go. Only when the infernal ringing stop did he dare open his eyes again.

Nathan gazed at the sky as storm clouds seemed to gather out of nowhere, the air slowly losing its summer warmth. His walk turned to a jog that turned to a run, his stomach seeming to plummet into a void.

A group of teens stood around a swing, most laughing obnoxiously, one confused, another with realization slowly dawning on his face.

White noise flared once more and Nathan lost his step, falling to his knees.

Running with desperation. Frigid cold and lifelessness. Death personified coming to him.

His vision cleared. His hands held his head in a futile effort to stop the splitting headache. He was indescribably cold, felt even through the numbness permeating his whole body. Whispers flew to his ears with the biting wind, incoherent and maddening.

The visceral pulse of fear exploded him into action, Nathan jumping to unsteady feet and rushing to his still motionless friend.

"Harry!"

The boy in question turned to him, surprise and horror on his face. "Nate! It's-."

"Dementors, I know! We gotta book it now!" He shouted as he ran to Harry, pulling him along with his cousin. He only let go when he was sure they were keeping pace.

An overpass appeared ahead. They entered to take shelter from the freezing rain that had started falling. They only stopped running when he was halfway inside, hoping this was enough to hide them.

Nathan's body shook, his legs spasming violently. He could not feel his extremities anymore, lost to the cold. It was a struggle to keep his eyes opened as he gasped heavily for breath. And even then, it never felt like it was enough. The whispers in his ear continued incessantly.

"What's wrong? Talk to me!" Harry was beside him, looking at his hunched over form with worry.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was a noose tied around his neck, slowly tightening. The whispers grew louder and more chaotic.

The cold seemed to worsen in an instant, the darkness at the entrance growing larger. Harry pulled out his wand and stood straighter while his cousin ran away.

Nathan watched it all in slow motion. He could only see a great shadow approaching. Complete numbness overcame him. The whispers became shouts, incoherent and strident and telling him to move move MOVE!

The shadow came closer. He was rooted to the floor.

Even closer. His chest burned.

Closer still. The ringing in his ears morphed into countless voices screaming in panic.

He watched it all with a strange detachedness, looking through a window as the shadow took shape. It looks like death.

It loomed over him. His lungs stopped working. Feels like I'm drowning.

The creature raised its hand, winter seeming to be summoned by the gesture.

"I wanted them… to have a proper death."

"It hurts so much!"

"Why are you crying?"

"I didn't expect you to save me…"

"Nathan."

"Nathan."

"NATHAN!"

Strength left him as he fell limp to the hard floor. The last thing his rational mind acknowledged was the horrifying being, not even close enough to touch him.