Everlasting Night

It was dark. A deep, thick, suffocating darkness that Harry thought was slowly killing him. It pushed and pulled at him, an insane pressure on the back of his eyelids, and it wrapped itself around him and squeezed the air from his lungs.

Then he opened his eyes.

It was still dark. Harry tried to scream, but found it muffled not only by the pressure of the darkness but of something on his face. He struggled to rise, to pull at whatever was on his face, but found himself bound. The darkness continued to torment him, coming at him from all sides, seeping into every space in his being. Voldemort had him. He would die in this darkness, bound and gagged, unable to see his foe. He heard footsteps coming closer as the darkness continued to pour in.

"He's awake."

Pure terror flooded Hary. He could feel a presence looming over him, and he thrashed like an animal, unable to see, unable to feel the bands cut into his flesh. He screamed again. He didn't want to die this way, alone, in the dark. A hand was moving painstakingly through the air. Harry couldn't see it, but he could feel every molecule, every electron, being pushed aside by it. When the hand touched his face, Harry contorted, trying to bite.

"Calm down, boy!" The voice that spoke to him was not that of Voldemort, but Harry was still on guard. Had he been a dog, he would have been standing there, trembling with a mixture of anger and fear, teeth bared, hackles raised. "No one is going to hurt you, son. You're in a hopsital and I'm about to remove the bandages on your face. Hold still."

Harry relaxed a bit, but he was still nervous, edgy. "What hospital?"

"Saint Mungo's." The voice answered. It was a pleasant enough voice, male, but old. It was a voice like a cigar on a Sunday evening. Calming, distinct, but dated.

Harry sighed then, feeling as though an incredible weight had been lifted. He wouldn't have to worry about making up some silly excuse for anything, and he could finally get some information. There was something on his mind that was plaguing him, something hazy but very important, that he knew.

"Now, I'm just pulling up a stool. Then I'll get the special knife out and I'll begin. I've done this many times, you don't need to worry about a thing. Just relax and remain still. Close you eyes, too. I don't want to get any thing in them."

There was a scraping noise as the man did as he said. Harry felt his presence once again, this time to the right side of his body. Hands reached up and turned Harry's face to the right, and there was another, softing, scraping noise as the man picked up his instrument.

"How did I get here?" Harry asked the man as he felt the layers being cut away.

"You were brought here by a man named Weasley. Percy Weasley." The man reached up and pulled the first layer off his face and placed it on the bed.

"Where is he?"

"I'm not allowed to say. His mother will be coming shortly though, and she'll probably tell you. She was here all the time in the beginning. Everyone was. Then September rolled around and-"

"September?" The second layer was cut through and the hand reached up again. "How long have I been here?"

"Five months, I'd reckon, and a few days." Harry was glad the man had already cut through the layer, because at that sentence, he jumped.

"Five months?!"

"Calm down!" The hands steadied him. "You might not have woken up at all. In fact, it's probably best that it's been five months, because if it had only been a few days, then this place would be coated from floor to ceiling in flowers and reporters. Your last bouquet just died yesterday. The nurses couldn't be bothered to water them. They've got more important things to do." The man was cutting faster now, and the layers were being peeled off as if Harry were an onion.

"Five months." Harry repeated quietly. "That means I missed my birthday My 18th birthday."

The man patted him on the shoulder. "As soon as you're out of here, I'm sure your friends will throw a lovely combination 'birthday' and 'welcome home' party. Don't worry so much. Besides, I've nearly got the last layer off. There." The bandage slid off of Harry's face, and he felt the air. He sucked in a deep breath.

And opened his eyes.