Pain.
He was aware of little else but that. His very blood burned as it rushed through his veins, running around in a panic, trying to save him, to make him feel alive. He laid on the floor, arm pierced by cruel bone, next to him lay the slain basilisk, a pool of black blood forming around him, flowing freely from the head of his beaten foe.
A small pile of ashes shifted nearby, and from it a mournful cry came. Another form stirred nearby, and soon joined in the laments.
He could see nothing but a blur of shifting colour, hear nothing but a symphony of cacophonies, sounds both real and imagined, remembered and new.
A blur of red shifted in an out of focus as the world darkened around him. He knew everything was about to end, and so he closed his eyes and breathed deep, the pain had not gone, but it was not bothering anymore.
Harry had never thought about death before this moment. Not really, but as he drew that one last breath, he thought there was nothing so sweet as that lungful of musty, damp air, and something deep inside him rebelled against the notion of extinction.
His world faded to black and he breathed out. There was nothing he could do.
Red.
Out of the blackness a cloud of red came, and it took form. He could not see much more than the suggestion of a man, staring down at him.
'Is there not?'
He was confused. His head spun, he could not tell up from down, nor he could tell where his body began and where it ended.
'Is there really nothing you could do?'
The voice sounded like nothing he could describe, beautiful and enticing beyond measure, it sounded like cloudy days and the swish of a speeding broom, like the deep hum of the great hall in the morning, like the rays of sun playing on the curtains of his bed.
'From where I am from, Harry, there is a few things you could do. I would just need a promise from you, do you agree?'
The feeling that came from the voice was overwhelming, and so, with the thought
of a life lost he thought a single word.
'Yes'
And his eyes opened
Harry lived.
His life changed little after his near death experience. He could remember little of that day other than the voice, and even then, he did not remember the words, only the feeling, and the flash of red.
He couldn't help but panic every time he cached a glimpse of Ginny's hair by surprise. Good thing Ron's colouring was lighter.
Apart from that feeling of dread at that particular shade, and the weird horses he could now see pulling Hogwarts carriages, there where little reminders of that day. The scar where the fang of the Basilisk had pierced his arm was very slight, and most of the time he did not noticed it.
Hermione seemed to think that it looked like a scourge, for some reason.
It was October the 30th, and Harry was freezing. The only part of him that was not utterly cold was his right arm. Maybe it was some lingering effect from the poison that had nearly boiled him inside out, but his arm was always warm.
The foreign delegations where supposed to be arriving at any moment, and the sooner the better, as far as he was concerned. Almost prophetically, Durmstrang made a very Davy Jones appearance, and a few minutes later the -Over the top, If you asked him- carriage that carried Beauxbatons delegation landed.
He felt no cold anymore, but only a pleasant warmth. The excitement seemed to be contagious to that degree. The doors opened.
Blue.
A sea spilled from inside, silk shimmering under torchlight. his skin started to heat even more. He started to sweat. From the sea a pearl rose and his veins burned with such strength that he must be about to steam. He was paralyzed at the feeling, remembering memories that did not exist anymore.
He caught a glance of indescribable eyes and his blood bursted into fiery song.
The excited chatter of the crowd was indistinguishable, barely a bee's hum, but with each step of the stranger a loose word reached his ears.
'...Remember...'
Noise, voices mixing. A whisper.
'...You said...'
Drops of water hit the floor as the snow melted
'...a promise...'
The neighing of hungry and tired horses
'...price...'
Water lapping in the distance
'...life...'
The crackle of fire
'...love...'
"Such a cold place," said the lips below blue eyes.