The Impatient Man and His Suit

Dark Matter

The next time I opened my eyes, I was met with a completely different scene than before. Sleepiness left me and was replaced by a cold breeze passing through my body. Now a silent, cold air surrounded me in my living room. The fire was dead; the power seemed to have gone out, and the iron cage which kept hot embers from flying out onto my rug was covered in frozen perspiration. Not only was I horrified by this sudden alteration of my flat, but I was becoming increasingly confused. Only a small glimmer of moonlight shone foggily into the room, illuminating me and my armchair. Trying to trace the abnormal draft to a source, I looked to the window across the room. It had iced over so much that the remaining warmth inside tested the glass's ability to hold itself together. It seemed as if even the tiniest breath of warmth could send the whole thing bursting into pieces.

Hastily, I hopped from my seat and went to check if the front door had mysteriously swung open during my rest. Even the tiles in the foyer seemed frozen over as the cold energy rose up into my socks. I reached for the sheer curtains hanging in the windows and quickly pulled my fingers back. The fabric was stiff with frozen moisture. My last attempt at detective work was to throw the front door open. The street was dark and silent. Ice everywhere, frozen into thick layers. It was just as cold inside as it was outside.

Shutting the door, I attempted to make my way upstairs for the phone with the idea to call the electric company. I assumed my landlord misunderstood my request and turned it off earlier that evening. Stopping just halfway up the stairs, I listened as crackling noises echoed from below. The glass composing the living windows made sharp sounds as cracks clearly began forming. Resting my hand on the rod, I stared in amazement as the crackling sound of ice left the living room and made it all the way to the front door. Leaning over the rail, I gawked as one of the windows slowly slid open. The sound of the rusted frame was the only thing heard in that dead silence. 

A pair of long, rotting, bony hands slowly clamped onto the frame. I couldn't move. I could hardly breathe. I just watched in horror as a cloaked figure levitated into my apartment. A dark aura of emptiness surrounded it as it slowly made its way toward me. I could feel my pupils shrinking and a cold sweat piercing my skin. It felt like every single one of my blood cells evaporated, leaving my skin stiff and unmovable. I couldn't see the demon's face or any defining features. The strange texture of the weightless cloak which floated on the creature had no details. No shadows or creases. The moonlight wouldn't even reflect on it. The only thing which seemed real about it was the rotting flesh on its hands, which slowly stretched out again.

I slowly fell back onto the stairs behind me, enraptured by the dark matter created by the creature. I knew it had me. 

All the excitement I had for the following day and the butterflies inflicted by the adventure which I was due to embark on, fell onto my heart all at once and then left just as quickly. I was ecstatic with happiness for a mere moment when it all rotted and fell to my stomach. The dark and depressing spirit of death himself had entered my body. Everything started losing its color, vibrancy, and light. It was almost as if my soul was being sucked from my mouth. I was becoming an empty vessel; a black, textureless void, just like the creature before me. I was gone.

Looking up, I could see a vast stretch of white sky above. I was lying down, no thoughts, no feelings. Gathering my attention, a lanky white fox came scuttling up from behind me, taking cautiously to a white wall at my right. We glanced at each other briefly, then walked together until we came across a white picket fence. Each peak formed upon the shapely poles was perfectly carved and smooth. I ran my fingers along them until I reached for the opening and walked through. Everything behind me faded into white and color started coming back. I felt heavy again as I started walking farther beyond the gate. A white armchair and a set of empty windows came into sight. All three started lighting up with familiar colors, and I knew I was home.

My eyes were becoming incredibly heavy, yet I didn't let them close. I kept them open until all colors in the room had found their place and settled. I closed my eyes for a while, then opened them again. I was lying down on the couch with my hands crossed and laid lightly on my chest. I looked around when I recalled my dream, or what I thought was a dream.

Standing in front of the quivering fire, with a straight back and a slightly bowed head, was Malfoy. A reflection of orange swayed in his glossy eyes and turned into a sparkle of liveliness. He didn't look half as dead as usual. Tearing his sullen eyes from the fire, he looked over to me, then back again.

"Do you not know how to run?" he asked.

I continued to stare at him, remembering not only the freakish event I just experienced but all the things I had learned about him just hours before. I had wiped my hands clean of our acquaintance and now he was there, in the flesh.

"Then again, you probably didn't even think about running. First time I'd ever seen a dementor I nearly fell back on my ass," he smirked.

I turned my head back and looked up at the ceiling. Spots of past damp water stains spread out above us.

"I thought I was dead," I began, my voice giving out into a whisper at the mention of my own death. "What happened? Did it leave me? Did you find me on the stairs..."

"Sure. 'scared it off"

I turned my head back to face him.

"Scared it off?"

"Exactly," he replied, walking about the room.

"What was it?" I asked.

"The darkness, in physical form. It's been around for while, that one. We've been looking all over for it. Funny it should stumble upon you and condemn itself to my hands."

"I don't understand, why did it come here?"

"It was drawn to your pathetic magic. Must've been near and thought it'd be a good idea to drop in and say hello. Prior to you opening your front door, there was a protection spell over your flat. But it lured you out and you yourself shattered it," he finished, pointing a finger toward the foyer.

"I'm such an idiot," I grimaced, covering my face.

"Not this time actually. How could you have known in the first place? Those ministry idiots raided your home, took your stuff, threw the truth at you, then left you to fend for yourself."

I was puzzled by his detailed complaint. He wouldn't have complained for me, unless his nerves had been tested by the Ministry of Magic in the first place, making him sensitive to any mention of the organization.

"Have you got your things ready? It's nearly dawn," he continued, perhaps motivated by a dislike for awkward silences.

"Yes, but I do believe I don't leave till ten. That's what the letter states."

"I'll be there to escort you," he concluded then walked away.

This time around, the pallid villain opted for the door instead of vanishing into thin air. I watched him slam it behind him and then immediately covered my face again. My fortune was clearly working against my desires. I was thankful for yet another rescue from death but discomforted to suffer from his complacent remarks again and when the hour would strike 10A.M I would have to suffer one last time.