Thomas Cloverleigh Echos of the Past (Harry Potter Fanfiction)

The Past

"Thomas, why did it have to be you?" Professor Barlow stood before Thomas. Gone was his fun strike blue hair, kilt and robe. Instead, he stood in black. A heavy, cold black that hung around him. Like a ghost in a girl's lavatory, but with a darkness that no ghost at Hogwarts would have as their own.

His face looked pinched, it looked like to Thomas, that he was in a great deal of pain. Shadows begged his eyes. Aging him, changing him. Into what Thomas couldn't begin to guess. No, Thomas's hand shook as he pulled his hand back. Willing, yet unwilling, to believe, but ready to take his wand if needed too. Maybe, Thomas hoped — he was reading these all wrong.

Thomas looked around and strung up in the air. Was an image so horrible. Thomas's mouth opened, but not even a voiceless scream could escape from his throat. A dozen students. Hung like fish drying on unseen racks. Face twisted in different expressions — all of them were more wretched than next. Thomas looked on, placing a hand to his lips, to stop the acid from spilling from his mouth. Tasting his lunch on his tongue.

A clear image of each person. Made it impossible to deny that they were the missing student. Only a thin white outline. Shimmering, fading, dying... Made them even visible. Thomas glanced away, shaking, his breaths coming out in pants. Kept his mind from falling into a tunnel of panic. Unwilling to run away, Thomas looked again into the faces of the students he didn't know. Looking for the one he did.

Thomas looked at the three long rows. Both boys and girls, hung without reason. Some screamed without voices, mouths open, noses scrunched into their eyes. Others, were strung arms out, with their heads down, passed out, a small blessing Thomas imagined.

The ones on the bottom row. Looked much worse than the others. Their heads tilted back, eyes blank and unseeing. A white fog seeping out of their open lips. With a smell, a smell so vile. Thomas could only compare it to the unseen, horror hanging over them all. Death. It smelled of death. In that death he saw nothing, but a backdrop of a green still pond.

Like the poets wrote about, it appeared to Thomas that this room must have been a huge temple room. With pillars and carved serpents. There is a massive statue of a man, a wizard with his hand outstretched. Thomas felt very little hope in this place, but he had to try. Fighting back his fear. Thomas turned and looked at Professor Barlow once more.

"Please tell me Professor," Thomas asked, he looked him straight in the eyes. "Please say you're here to help them." Thomas looked to the man who had shown him kindness. Who had taught him how to fly on a broom without fear? That had offered his tea, and advice. Surly, that colourful man, despite his new black robes. Could it not be bad?

"Thomas," Professor Barlow's eyes shook. His mouth quivered, but remained closed. When he turned away. Thomas had his answer. With a swirl of his robe, Thomas also says to girls. One was clearly Daniel's sister, and the other one was...

"Pipa!" Thomas called out. Grateful that she looked better than the rest. Her boy was more viable. More defined. From where he stood, Thomas could see a little mouse. Sitting on her chest. Feet moving towards her on instinct. Professor Barlow turned back around. Wand pointed at Thomas's face.

"Why did you have to come here?" Professor Barlow asked him. Thomas took a step back and took his wand out of his holster. Shaking like a leaf, he kept it at his side, unable to lift it and point it at his Professor. "Why?!" Sparks flew out the end of his wand.

"I had to save Pipa..." Thomas winced at the white sparkles sparking off.

"Why are you here at Hogwarts!" Professor Barlow yelled at Thomas. He could see tears budding on his lashes. "Why do you have to remind me of her?!" The tears started to fall, glitter pale green in the light of the room.