A Change of Feeling

Nightly Terror

A cool wind blew against his face. His lips went numb, and would no doubt be blue in color. From his breath, part of the vapor condenses into water droplets, so that a cloud was visible in front of him. The cold was so intense that Harry couldn't warm himself up by rubbing over his arms. The cold was impenetrable, too, a no-man's-land made of endless miles of fog and grayness stretched out before his eyes. A sense of unhappiness, grief, and helplessness filled Harry's being.

Harry felt a presence behind him. He felt long, cold fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. The pain was not overpowering, but it was a cutting pain. His skin felt like it had been burned. Only it was not a fire that caused it, but an all-encompassing cold. Harry looked at his shoulders, the wounds were light gray in color and small transparent blisters were visible. Trembling with fear, he turned and saw .. Nothing. He turned paranoid and looked out in all directions to see his attacker.

Harry turned around once more. The face of his attacker made his blood clot. A rotting face, without eyes, nose, mouth, or lips, floated before him. The skin was gray/brown in color, with large rotting patches that sometimes looked red or black. Where the sight was already nauseating, the smell had an even greater effect. The creature lingered in front of him, and although there was no wind, the rotting black robe flapped ominously behind the dementor.

"E-Expecto Pat-tronum," Harry stuttered. He didn't know if it was his fear or the cold that made his teeth chatter.

Nothing happened, not even a silver cloud.

The dementor didn't seem to want anything, he hung motionless in front of Harry. He seemed to watch Harry, like a curious student dissecting an insect. This got Harry even more on his nerves, he didn't know now whether to attack or flee. His body chose for him and stood still like a statue.

"H-h-ha-rrrr-y," came a raw, dead voice. The creature seemed to have spoken, although the lips did not move.

"....Harry Potter... We come for you. We are looking for you. We will find you." said the creature.

Harry took a step back. He felt his heartbeat in his throat. An uncontrollable desire to flee filled his being.

In the meantime, he was taking whole steps backward to create distance between him and the being. But with every step, the creature seemed to draw closer. The rattling sound of the dementor's breath was clearly audible. He himself had stopped breathing, his body seemed to consider it secondary to fleeing.

He took another step back, but stepped wrong and lost his balance. He landed on his butt. He shuffled backward on all fours. In a sitting motion, he kept looking at the creature, which now hovered high above him. The dementor leaned over and grabbed Harry.

"We are always there." said the creature.

-....-

"Harry!" said some voice in the distance.

-....-

"Mate, wake up! It's just a dream...."

Harry kicked his blankets, which were wrapped around his legs. He thrashed around with his arms, without hitting his dementor. He was profoundly sweating, his blankets and mattress felt cold and clammy with moisture.

Harry looked around, startled. After several times dazing into the room, he took the time to recognize the people in his room. At his foot and at the side of his bed were his "old" friends: Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked genuinely distraught and seemed worried about Harry. Her hair was all over the place and even the quills (which wrote animatedly on her T-shirt) didn't write on the parchment. Ron was looking a little sheepish as if he couldn't hold his own.