Chapter Text
Cold air bit into his lungs as he took his first new breath. He quickly sat up, scooted back against the wall and let his eyes dart around the dimly lit room. Every fibre of his body prepared for the attack. The enemy was hiding, ready to spring upon him. His hand flew to his hip to grab his wand, but found nothing. Frenzied, he stared into the room, bracing himself for the blow.
No blow came.
The quick, shallow gasps agitating his chest got calmer. No one was there. He kept staring into the empty room. Grey light squeezed through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. His hand was still on his hip. Something was wrong. He looked down, and all he could see was pallid skin stretched over the outlines of bones. A curtain of lank, black hair framed the field of his vision. He hugged his knees into his chest, nervously looking around. Who had undressed him and taken his wand? Could they be waiting somewhere close by, ready to strike the moment he tried to get up?
He let his forehead sink onto his knees and pricked his ears. The wooden walls of the shack faintly creaked in the wind. This shack... it has a name. He had been here before. Wait, were those... footsteps? A quiet rustling, now it was gone. There, again... No, a mouse. He took a deep breath and exhaled, shivering. Now that he had convinced himself that there was no imminent danger, the cold became impossible to ignore. There was a bed not too far away. On its discolored mattress lay some ragged, moth-eaten blankets. Could he dare to move or should he try listening again, to make absolutely sure? But his teeth would not stop clattering. If someone wanted to hurt me, they would have done so by now.
He stretched his legs and gingerly got to his feet. Walking seemed difficult, as if he had only learned how to do it recently. When he got to the bed, he touched one of the blankets, closing his long fingers around one of its folds. His pulse quickened and he felt the urge to leap away from the bed, but resisted it. With a deep, steadying breath, he ripped the blanket away. A rusty spring that poked through the sunken mattress gave a little twang that sent adrenaline rushing through him. Nothing else happened. He exhaled. Slowly and stiffly, he wound the rag around himself. There was another one still on the bed. His fear had subsided, but he repeated the yanking operation, just to be sure. The blankets brought little relief. They were so clammy and moth-eaten that they would not keep a freezing death away for long.
He could have conjured a magical fire if he had his wand. But, wandless as he was, he would need to find another way to warm up. His best bet was to get out of this shack and search for someone who could help him. Maybe they could even shed some light on what had happened to him. Or help him recall who he was. He took a few cautious steps toward a crooked door when he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He whirled around, searching for the source. What he found was his own, indistinct reflection in the shards of a dusty mirror. He stared at the blurry outline of his body until his heart beat at normal speed again. He did not approach the mirror further. He was afraid of what he might see.
His toes were now so cold they had stopped hurting. He needed to get out fast. Beside the door, daylight shone through the cracks of a boarded-up window. Beyond the door lay freedom. He grasped the handle and pulled. The door gave a little way in its flimsy frame but didn't open. He tried pushing, with the same result - he was trapped. He studied the door. Around its edge, rusty nails fixed it to its frame - it had been sealed from the inside. However, the whole thing seemed so old and decayed, it might budge if he pulled hard enough. Leaning forward, he closed both hands around the handle. He tore at it, throwing himself back with all his might. The rags he had wound around himself slipped to the floor. The door creaked and cracked, but didn't open. He tried again. More cracking. Once more he pulled, but to no avail. "Come on". He gritted his teeth, tightened his grip around the handle and adjusted his stance, pushing his naked feet into the floor and pulled.
With an almighty wrench, the door crashed open, sending him stumbling backwards. But no light streamed in. There were only more boards. Someone really tried to make sure no one got in. Or out. He sat down on the floor, propping himself up on his hands and started kicking at the boards maniacally. A few splinters found their way into his flesh, but he didn't stop before he had managed to kick out the lower three boards. He flopped onto his stomach and pulled himself forward.
He cowered before the decrepit shack, naked and freezing, not knowing where he was or where he could go. Reaching into the opening he had made, he retrieved the blankets. After he had wrapped them around himself once more, he took in his current situation.
A bare meadow under a leaden sky. Icy wind tore at the branches of a few leafless trees. He turned his head further and his heart leaped – there were cottages in the distance, thin ribbons of smoke rising from their chimneys. He took a step from the broken board he stood on, setting his foot on a ground strewn with wet leaves. He started toward the cottages at a trot. After walking for a short while, he realized a cobblestone road leading into the village.
He chose to walk parallel to the road instead of on it. As he saw the outlines of the first houses' roof shingles, a raindrop hit the crown of his head. Another one splashed onto the bridge of his nose, and several on his chest and shoulders. Within seconds, a downpour of fat, ice-cold drops had enveloped him. They pierced his flesh and constricted his chest like an iron band. He started to run, gasping for air. His numb toes caught on something sticking out of the ground and he fell flat onto his front. There was too much pain in his body to still register whether the fall had hurt. He scrambled to his feet, leaving one soaked blanket in the dirt. Their only use now was to keep his decency.
He finally arrived at the village, half mad with cold and pain and desperation. Stumbling into a path off the main road, he saw a sign dangling over a door. An inn! He just managed to bang his fist against the thick wood as he slumped awkwardly against the door. It opened and he fell inside.