Harry opened his eyes with a tired groan, blinking away the fog that obscured his vision. Or at least, that's what he attempted to do. The fog refused to dissipate, his vision refused to clear. He could see very little.

But fog wasn't the only disruption to his senses. He could feel the wind blasting against his face, like a dog sticking its head out of the window. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either, as the air had a bite to it.

Shivering slightly, he heard a noise, muffled, but gaining volume. It sounded like an engine, and not one from those quiet little hybrids his uncle complained about. Poof cars he called them. Harry had no idea what he meant by that, but it likely wasn't anything good.

The noise was coming from his left, so he dared to take a peek. There was a man, dressed in a worn leather jacket, with hair nearly as black as his own blowing violently behind him. His pants were similarly tattered, well worn in a way that bespoke the years he must have had them.

He didn't know who this man was, and yet he did. He can't recall meeting him before, but he recognized him all the same. It was a strange feeling, like trying to remember a word that was on the tip of your tongue, but for the life of you, evades recollection.

Perhaps if he was less exhausted, he could have put a name to the face, but alas, he could not. Maybe it wasn't important, or maybe it was more important than anything else. Either way, there wasn't much he could do at the moment.

But at least he discovered the sound of the noise. It was a motorcycle, loud and proud, the kind his aunt detests, racing through this endless fog. Harry always thought they were cool, a fleeting memory always caused a warm feeling to emerge whenever he heard one. But the memory never stayed long, and over time, faded into something less than a memory, an echo.

The man on the motorcycle never turned to look at him, never acknowledged his presence, almost like he wasn't even there. That did beg the question, where was he? The last thing he remembered was laying down on his cold, hard mattress, closing his eyes, and…

He fell asleep, didn't he? The one thing he didn't want to do, the one thing that caused him more fear than his relatives. Or maybe he was kidnapped, wouldn't that be a pleasant surprise?

Gazing at his surroundings once more, he still couldn't make out much, the fog not having lifted much, if at all. But something was odd about the whole thing, something he didn't feel right. And he wasn't talking about the possibility of being held for ransom. The thought of the Dursley's paying to get him back caused a dry laugh to emerge from his throat. After all, they were far more likely to pay for someone to take him away.

No, that wasn't it. It was something physical, visceral, that he couldn't feel. He just couldn't quite figure it out. It was something he felt every time he got in the car, but what was it?

Oh! The road! That was it, he couldn't feel the road. Gazing over the edge of the side card he was in, he could make out twinkling lights below him. City lights, if he had to guess. At least, that's what it looked like. It's not like he's ever flown before, so he didn't know from experience. It was more like an educated guess.

But if that was the case, he could safely rule out a kidnapping. No, unfortunately, it was most likely a dream. Motorcycles don't fly after all, now do they? No, it was a dream, but so far, it wasn't a bad one, like the ones he's been having lately. It was actually soothing, being so high in the sky. If he lived, maybe he should think about being a pilot.

Resting his head on the cold steel of the sidecar, he watched as the world passed him by below. Slowly, his eyes drooped shut. Even in his dreams, he was tired. It didn't take long, and he was asleep once more, never noticing the driver finally turn to look at him.

If he had, he would have recognized him quite easily.

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A sharp bump roused Harry from his slumber. He once again tried blinking away the fog, but it was even less effective than last time. The fog surrounding him was even thicker than before. He couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. Which wouldn't surprise him normally, as he wasn't wearing his glasses, and without those, he could see about as well as a bat at noon.

Though, come to think of it, he never wore his glasses while dreaming. They were ugly and uncomfortable things, with the prescription being too weak. He could see with them, but only just. So it didn't surprise him that he would dream he could see clearly without them. But with how real these dreams of his were, shouldn't he need them? Or was there something else at play here?

More importantly, he could feel the road now, something he couldn't do last time. This was also the first time he woke up having the same dream. That brought another thought forward, what happens if you fall asleep in your own dream? Do you wake up, or just dream of something different?

Or were you like Harry, and stayed in the same dream? Was he unique in this regard? Another reason he was a freak, according to his uncle? A second bump broke him from his thoughts.

Gazing up at the driver once more, Harry wasn't shocked that he couldn't see him. But was he… bigger than last time? The silhouette certainly seemed larger. Almost the same size as his uncle. Now that would be a real nightmare.

He tried looking over the edge again, and was surprised that he could still see the twinkling lights. But there was something different about them. He couldn't quite make them out through the dense mist, but something about them made him shiver. Some primal force telling him that something wasn't right.

His gut, as small and emaciated as it was, was usually correct about these things, so Harry learned to listen to it. Except when it was hungry, there was nothing he could do about that, and the constant complaining did nothing to help.

He tore his gaze away from the lights below, which was strange, now that he thought about it. After all, weren't they on the road now, so how could he still see them? Perhaps it was just a dream thing and should be left well enough alone.

For now, it seems the only thing he can do is wait. This was still a more pleasant dream than the ones before it, even with the sense of wrongness now emanating from the ever deepening fog. Everything now depended on where he ended up.

Hopefully somewhere sunny and warm, with lots of food. Wouldn't that be nice? Harry knew he wasn't so lucky, but a boy can dream can't he?

And no, the irony of that thought wasn't lost on the currently dreaming boy.

Time slowly ticked by as nothing seemed to happen. It's true what they say, time moves slower when you're bored out of your mind. Add whatever rules governed dreams, and you lose all sense of when you are or when you'll be.

Which was both a relief and a worry. Like watching a horror movie. You know something bad is going to happen, you just don't know when.

And something did indeed happen eventually. They slowed down. It was abrupt and jarring. One minute they're flying down the road, literally, and the next they're matching a tortoise. And the road became even bumpier, like they turned down a gravel road.

After several minutes of this, they finally stopped. Harry wasn't sure if he should be relieved they made it to wherever they were going, or terrified. So he settled for a healthy mixture of both. A happy medium if you will.

Something else was happening as well. The fog was clearing. Only now did he wonder how the other person managed to drive through it. Did the fog not exist for him? Or was it just another dream thing that didn't need to be explained? Harry was getting sick of those.

As the fog lifted and the area became clear, Harry could make out where he was. He was in a field of some kind, and all around him were hot air balloons. It was a weird place to bring him, hours and hours of driving, only to end up here. Why? What was the reason?

Turning to face the man, Harry was startled to see someone completely different. Someone that was even more familiar to him, someone he'd seen recently, someone who had been following for a long time now.

The Ferryman.

It was a name that came to Harry during one of their encounters. A name that held no particular meaning to the young boy, but one he used all the same. He never saw the creature ferry anyone or anything, and yet…

The Ferryman. That was his name, Harry was sure of it.

The melted man sat upon the bike, looking far too large for it, and far too small at the same time. Kind of like his hat. His face wriggled, like water was trying to escape its fleshy prison. His eyeless eyes stared at him, filled with both longing and disgust. How he could tell was a mystery, one he wasn't keen to unravel.

Harry flung himself from the side car, flopping painfully onto the ground, crawling away from the thing in a panic. There was no more happy medium, the scales having tipped in one direction. He ignored the stinging scrapes he received from the ground, desperate to get away from the thing that haunted his every dream.

He made it to one of the hot air balloons and hid behind it, trying to get his breathing under control. It was proving more difficult than it should, his near hysterics making it a nearly impossible task.

Why was he here? What did he want? It wasn't the first time he had those thoughts, in fact, he had them every time he saw the creature. But he never received any answers. None that weren't said in a riddle at any rate.

Footsteps could be heard approaching, loud and thundering, wet splashes echoing with every step. What was making that particular noise? The ground wasn't wet, there were no puddles, so where was the splashing coming from?

A few short moments later, the footsteps stopped. It made sense, the creature was rather large, and Harry hadn't made it very far. Perhaps he could have made it further, but his lungs couldn't take the pressure. It felt like he had run a marathon just making it as far as he did.

Was he in that bad of shape? He could easily outrun his cousin and his friends when they hunted him through the neighborhood. If he didn't, if they caught him, he would be used as their personal punching bag, something he knew from first hand experience.

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He knew he wasn't the healthiest person. Normal people weren't skin and bones like he was, starved like a beaten dog. The more weight he lost, the harder it was to do anything, but even so, he never got this out of breath. No, this was something else. The question is, what?

Was it the world itself, this nightmare land, or was it the thing that stalked him through said lands, The Ferryman? Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. He was exhausted, out of breath, and terrified. That was reality. That was the situation.

Harry turned to look around the balloon, trying to spot his hunter, but saw nothing. Just an endless fog, twinkling starlight, and the motorcycle that brought him here. Perhaps he should have felt relief that he couldn't see The Ferryman, and part of him in fact did, as the creature was creepy and terrifying in a way he didn't understand. But the other part, the rational part, was more afraid that he didn't know where he was.

He heard him approach, heard the footsteps get closer and closer, sounding like a t-rex, only to find said monster missing. Where did he go? And how did he go? Harry didn't hear him leave, or were the footsteps something else entirely? Was there something else stalking him through the fog?

He really hoped that wasn't the case. One monster was more than enough. Two would just be overkill.

Turning around, Harry's breath froze in his chest, a scream trapped in his throat. In front of him, standing completely still, was the very monster he had been looking for. It was like a bad horror movie, and he fell for it.

Harry tried to make a noise, tried to move, but he could do neither. He could only stare at the thing, as it stared right back. What was that old saying?

If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares into you?

Something like that. Harry felt the description apt for what he was looking at, and what was looking back at him. The abyss. There was no other way to put it.

After a few tense moments, at least to Harry, of nothing happening, the Ferryman opened his mouth. The movement should have been normal, but it was anything but. It was only a single movement, yet it seemed like thousands. It was disorienting to watch, and more disorienting to hear.

"Choose."

That was the only thing it said, the entire reason it had to move its face a thousand times at once. It's voice was just like that as well, a thousand in one, rough and deep. The voice was so distracting, Harry didn't hear what he said.

"W-what?"

That was all he managed to stammer out. He cursed the fear in his voice, but there was little he could do about it. The fear was etched into his very being by this creature's mere presence. He could no more turn it off than he could turn off the sun.

"Choose the dream… Plunge yourself into the deep… Or stay awake and sleep…"

What did that mean? Stay awake and sleep? How did that work? What did he want him to choose exactly?

Looking around him, at the field and the numerous hot air balloons, he wondered if that's what he meant. Was he supposed to ride one of them? Only one way to find out.

"You want me to pick one of these hot air balloons?"

Harry was proud of himself for not stuttering that time. Perhaps it was the confusion of the situation, or maybe it was because The Ferryman had done nothing to him.

The creature nodded his head, or at least that's what it looked like to Harry. Everything The Ferryman does, and everything about where he was, was a contradiction. It made perfect sense, and no sense at all.

"Unknown paths… Take flight to swim… And dream again…"

Harry almost groaned at the vague answer. The only reason he didn't is that he wasn't sure how the monster would take it. At this point, Harry was sure it was doing it on purpose just to mess with him.

Seriously, how hard would it be to just tell him straight out? "Yes Mr. Potter, I would like you to choose one of my fabulous balloons and go on a grand adventure!" Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

Let's see… Unknown paths means that he hasn't been there before, or that no one has. At the very least, it was different. Take flight to swim again? Well, flying and swimming are similar, yet opposite. High and low maybe?

We'll come back to that one.

The last part, dream again… Those horrible dreams he's been having, he means to send him there. To another dream, another nightmare. Why would he choose that?

"Can't I just go home?"

The Ferryman tilted his head in confusion, but its voice was more amused than anything. Like it knew something that Harry didn't. Something about Harry himself that Harry hadn't realized.

"You wish to return to the known?"

That brought Harry up short. Return to the known? Did he mean the Dursley's? That was the place he called home, he supposed, even if it was anything but. It was a house he lived in, but it wasn't really a home. At least, not to Harry.

Did that make him homeless? Not technically, he supposed, but not as far off as he would like. The real question was, did he want to return there?

If he did, what would happen? Well, he knew that. He would be tossed in his cupboard, starved, beaten, and worked like a dog. Actually, the dog would have it better. The Dursley's seemed to like Aunt Marge's mutts more than him. She called them purebred, but Harry had his doubts.

That was the known. Did he want to return to that?

No… No he didn't. But that didn't mean he wanted to go wherever these balloons would take him either. He remembered the places he went to, the horrors that awaited him in those places.

The Leecher…

Giant man-eating plants…

All the things that looked human but weren't…

Was that somewhere he wanted to go? Not really, but was it better than the Dursley's? He knew what awaited him back home, pain and death, with no escape. But what about the unknown? What awaited him there?

He didn't know, and that was the point. Oh he could make a guess, that it wouldn't be pretty, but at the same time, he would be free. Free from his cupboard under the stairs, that was too hot and too cold. Free from the endless chores that he could never do right and was constantly punished for.

Free from the Dursleys, who never wanted him anyway. Even if the place he went to killed him, at least he would be free. It was a nice thought, a nice dream. But that was the problem, this was only a dream, and all dreams have to end eventually.

"No, I don't want to go back, but what choice do I have? I'll wake up soon enough."

"No place to return… Nowhere to go… Wake up to dream…"

There he goes again, mysterious and vague. But Harry seemed to understand. This was more than a dream, which he suspected for a while. He could still remember all the injuries he woke up with after dreaming about them. He just thought it was more of his freakishness that his uncle complained about. But what if it wasn't? Could this be his chance? His chance to escape that horrible place? It was almost too good to be true.

"So, if I get on one of these balloons, I'll be free? But where do they go?"

The creature smiled, and if Harry wasn't so distracted by the balloons and his new sense of freedom, he might have seen it. He might have realized he had fallen into a trap.

The stars above twinkled madly, and a new light shone down on the clearing he was in, illuminating each and every hot air balloon in sight. And many that weren't. It was almost endless, the choices he had.

"Freedom in a cage… An endless ocean… Deep and narrow…"

That gave Harry pause for a moment. Freedom in a cage? What does that mean? It didn't sound like freedom. Or maybe it meant that he couldn't go back, he would be in that world forever.

His thoughts were all jumbled and foggy. Kind of like the fog that littered his surroundings. Or at least, it used to. The world around him seemed clear, with nothing obscuring his sight.

Where did it go? Did it disappear when he decided he wanted to stay? He couldn't think, every thought coming and going, never staying very long. Not long enough to ponder too deeply anyway.

Whatever, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was moving forward. Away from the Dursley's, away from the known. It was time to embrace something new. Something unknown. As if to agree, the stars above shone even brighter.

Gazing out at the field, he took notice of his choices. Too many to see properly, but he had a feeling. Something tugging him in a certain direction. And Harry always followed his gut.

He walked past clown shaped balloons, which made him shiver, dragon shaped balloons, which made him wonder, and even a toilet shaped one. That one just confused him. There was every kind of balloon you could imagine, and a fair few you couldn't. Shapes and images from the mind of something that wasn't human.

Something like The Ferryman, who hounded him even now. But even though he was always right behind Harry, he never made a sound. It was like he was a ghost, haunting Harry's every step.

He did his best to ignore that thought, and continued to follow his gut. And the further they went, the more excited the world felt. Like he was going deeper and deeper into a playground made just for him, and the maker was watching him play.

He did his best to ignore that thought too.

As he passed more and more balloons, the lights went out one by one, leaving a dark abyss behind him. Every balloon ignored was another light gone. It wouldn't be long before every light was extinguished. Harry only hoped he found what he was looking for before that happened.

While he was particularly afraid of the dark, that didn't mean he wanted to be trapped in it. Especially not with The Ferryman behind him.

After what seemed like hours of walking, he finally stopped. In front of him was a giant, yellow balloon. It was extraordinarily plain compared to many of the ones he passed, looking like someone made it out of a raincoat, and yet it called to him. Like the sirens calling to Odysseus.

The world around him seemed to shudder in excitement. The lights were all out at this point, leaving only the yellow hot air balloon illuminated. One lonely patch of color in an otherwise bleak and shadowy world.

Maybe that's why it called to him.

Even The Ferryman seemed to smile at his choice. Maybe… It was hard to tell with his elongated, melted face. But the upturned corners seemed to suggest such a thing at any rate. It wasn't particularly nice to look at, but he seemed thrilled all the same.

Was there something special about the balloon he chose? Just where would this thing take him that had The Ferryman so excited? Harry doubted it would be anywhere good. His wish for a beach in the tropics was unlikely to be granted. If only The Ferryman was a genie.

"The choice has been made… The path has been set… Now it is time… Sink into the deep… Wake up to the new dream… Let fear be your guide…"

Harry didn't have time to ponder the thing's words, as he was picked up by said thing and placed into his chosen vessel. That was an experience Harry never wanted to repeat. His hands were cold and wet, slimy, slippery, leathery, and all manner of things unpleasant rolled into one. His flesh constantly shifted like the tide. A feeling that was uncomfortable to say the least.

Harry would be just fine if that never happened again. It was even worse than being picked up by The Leecher, and that thing nearly popped him like a pimple.

The Ferryman began to untangle the ropes tethering the balloon to the ground. Slowly, Harry began to ascend, inch by inch and foot by foot, he climbed higher and higher into the unknown.

Looking down, he could still see the twinkling stars, through the transparent floor, winking goodbye at him. Only, they weren't stars. Without the fog obscuring them, he could see them for what they really were.

Eyes.

Millions of eyes, all staring at him. They were above him as well, watching eagerly as he flew away. Just what were those things? What had he agreed to? It wasn't like there was a contract, there was no fine print to be read. A verbal agreement, one that he didn't understand, but agreed to all the same.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the things so eager to look at him. He'd stared into the abyss long enough for one day, though it seemed like the abyss wasn't done with him just yet. Even with his eyes shut tight, he could feel their gaze on him. The hairs on the back of his neck couldn't stand any straighter if they wanted to.

Had he made a mistake? It was true he didn't want to return to the Dursley's, but was this any better? It was too late now. He made his bed and it was time to lie in it. Regrets could come later, if he had the time.

On the bright side, no more Harry hunting, no more cupboard, no more chores, and no more Dursley's. He may come to regret his choice, he may have made a poor decision in haste, but at least he could take some measure of comfort in that silver lining.

It was all he had to cling to.

Daring to open his eyes, Harry found himself quite high up at this point. So high The Ferryman looked like an ant, but he could still hear him clearly, as if he was right next to him.

"Sink… Sink… Into the deep… Sleep… Sleep… Into the Nowhere…"

With that being said, Harry's eyes began to droop once more. How many times would he fall asleep in his own dream? Hopefully this would be the last.

The fog was back, and thicker than ever, occurring all but the path forward. Harry looked through bleary eyes at where he was being taken. Straight toward a blinking eye, bigger than the rest.

Though he felt panicked at the thought of heading straight for a massive eyeball, he could do nothing about the tiredness of his own eyes. As much as he tried to keep them open, he couldn't. Eventually, they closed once more, and sleep claimed him once again.

The Ferryman below watched as the boy drifted further and further away, satisfied that his job was complete. Strange, that the boy would choose that particular vessel, drawn to it by a force neither he nor the world around him understood.

He would watch that one very closely. Oh yes, very closely. He let out a deep laugh, as he left the area, ready to ferry another soul into the Nowhere. His job was never complete.