Harry's eyes were shut tight as the pain coursed through his body. He should have known better than to touch a clearly suspicious drawing in a room that made his heebies get the jeebies.

But as soon as the pain started, it also seemed to stop. Opening his eyes, Harry found himself in the exact same spot, only there was something different. The room was brighter, for one thing, and looking down, there was a distinct absence of black sludge.

Instead, he could clearly see what it was hiding. Like they thought, it was a white circle, with intricate details forming a beguiling pattern in the center. Line after line crisscrossed and connected in mind boggling ways.

Harry couldn't make heads or tails of it, having never seen anything like it before, but maybe his companion had. "Hey Six, have you ever-" but that was as far as he got. Turning to where Six was supposed to be, he found nothing but empty air.

Looking around in a panic, he desperately searched for his suddenly missing friend, but to no avail. She was nowhere in sight. However, that didn't mean he was alone. Far from it in fact.

Several kids his age, dirty and afraid, were locked inside the cages that were previously vacant. Most of them had eyes that were empty, devoid of hope or life, like they had given up on living. They were eyes he's seen once or twice in the mirror himself.

But where did they come from? He could have sworn he was alone in this room save for Six. He knew it was dark in here, or at least it used to be, but there was no way they would have missed them. Especially Six. Her eyes were much better than his.

"Hey," Harry said, gingerly approaching the nearest cage, one that held a young girl, even younger than Harry. She was dressed in a torn, periwinkle dress that had bits of grime and dirt caking the hem. Like Harry, she was also barefooted.

She seemed to take no notice of Harry's approach, nor his voice. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem, Harry didn't like to be the center of attention after all, but right now, he wanted some answers. Answers he wouldn't get by being ignored.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Harry asked as he reached the cage. But still, she refused to acknowledge him. Her eyes remained downcast as she sat there, staring at nothing.

Growing frustrated by the lack of response, he grabbed the cage to give it a shake, "Hey!" he shouted. But something strange happened here, and considering the strange things that normally happened around him, that was saying something.

His hand went through the cage bars, like they weren't even there. Taking a step back in surprise, Harry stared at his hands in confusion. Only now did he realize they were transparent.

He moved them in front of his face, back and forth, noticing a slight trail of color as he did so. Like one side of his hand couldn't keep up with the other. He knew his eyes weren't the best, but this was something on a whole new level.

He tried to touch himself, but even then, his hands seemed to go through each other. They shivered and vibrated as he did so, something he could see but not feel. It wasn't that he was numb per say, as everything else felt relatively normal. It was more like it was muted.

Harry tried to touch the cage bars once more, only to be met with the same result. He was thoroughly confused now. Was he dead? Was he a ghost? Guess it wasn't so bad, all things considered, but that doesn't mean he was happy about it.

Far from it, in fact.

But wait, if he really was dead and wandering this forsaken world as a spirit, where was Six? Him being a specter explained a few things, but not everything. It was a good starting theory, but that's all it was at this point.

A theory.

Until he had some more concrete evidence, he would continue under the assumption that he was still alive. And if that was the case, then what is happening to him?

He also tried to call upon his magic, but like the rest of him, it was muted. Like a dull, buzzing sound in the distance, and he was underwater. He wouldn't be able to rely on it. His magic was currently out of reach.

Ok, so he couldn't touch anything, and he couldn't use magic. Could he be trapped in a dream? If he was a normal boy, then maybe that would be a viable deduction. Unfortunately, Harry was anything but normal, and he has always been able to touch things in his dreams before, even if sometimes he wished he wasn't able to.

So that most likely ruled that out as well. But if he wasn't dreaming, then what the heck is going on? What did that circle do to him?

"It'll be alright," said a voice to Harry's left. A voice he didn't recognize. Turning sharply to see who spoke, Harry was greeted to the sight of a boy his own age, with a dark brown jacket and torn, filthy pants. And like him and the girl next to him, he was also not wearing any shoes.

Seriously, what's with the no shoes thing? Was it a collective fashion choice everyone seemed to make? Or was there something wrong with the world itself that it couldn't provide them with shoes?

Did someone or something out there, watching them, have a thing for feet? The Ferryman maybe? The Eyes? Or something else entirely? Harry didn't know, but he was determined to find a nice pair of shoes, just to spite them.

"You can see me?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with hope. But alas, the boy wasn't speaking to him. No, he was talking to the girl next to him. Of course he was, why would he pay any attention to poor, lonely Harry.

He missed Six already.

The girl in the cage didn't acknowledge him, her eyes remaining downcast and empty. The boy in the cage next to her frowned at the lack of response, his hand reaching out, trying to touch her, likely to reassure her of his words.

"Rose…" he said, his hand barely grazing her arm. This action seemed to get a response, although barely. She turned her dull, lifeless eyes towards the other boy, regarding him for a moment, before returning to stare hopelessly at the ground.

The boy next to her frowned, "Hey, come on. It will be ok, I promise."

Harry winced at those words, recognizing them for the empty hope it was. Promises like that weren't able to be kept at the best of times, but especially here, in this place, they were particularly cruel.

"How can you say that? You know we're going to die," she said, her voice harsh and dry, like she hadn't had anything to drink in days. Come to think of it, neither had Harry. If he managed to escape this place, wherever it was, he would need to find something to quench his parched throat.

Maybe a nice cup of tea, he was British after all.

"I refuse to give up hope. Someone will save us, you'll see," the boy said. For a second, Harry thought she would actually come around, a small spark of something akin to life flashing in her eyes. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone, nothing more than a trick of the light.

As inspirational as it may have seemed, holding on to hope no matter what, a part of Harry grew slightly irritated at the boy. Sure, Harry himself was hopeful that he and Six would escape, but there was a time and place for such things.

Would hope get him out of that cage?

Not likely.

Would hope fill their stomachs or quench their thirst?

Absolutely not.

Hope was all well and good as a motivator to keep you going, to push through hard times, but right now what they needed was action. Waiting for some miraculous savior was just plain stupid. That was no way to survive.

But maybe Harry was being too harsh. After all, they were trapped in cages, and perhaps they had tried to escape, but failed. Maybe, all they had left was hope.

Harry was like that once. He hoped beyond hope that someone would save him from his torment at his relatives, but no one ever did. He tried to tell teachers and even the police, but they refused to listen. His uncle spun them a tale of a troubled youth making up stories for attention.

And it worked every time.

Harry learned the hard way that no one was going to just come and save you. If that's what you wanted, you'd be waiting an awful long time. Long enough for someone with ulterior motives to come along and offer you a choice.

A choice that wasn't really a choice at all. Suffer here or suffer there, but either way, you still suffer.

He even tried to run away once, but he didn't get very far. Turns out, people were very suspicious about a small, dirty child wandering the streets in clothes far too big for himself. Harry was certain that the people who reported him to the police wanted what was best for him, worried about the too skinny youth out in the elements and just didn't know what hell they were subjecting him to.

Returning home after that was another lesson entirely. Ranked easily in the top three worst beatings of his life. He didn't try again. That was the day Hary learned not to hope, because it always led to disappointment.

But after meeting Six, that tiny ember he thought thoroughly snuffed out started to kindle again. Part of him relished in the feeling, one that seemed to warm his chest and strengthen his resolve, but another part, the one met with disappointment after disappointment, rebelled against the feeling.

Perhaps that was why he was truly so upset with the kid in the cage. He held onto something Harry had abandoned long ago. Because he wasn't strong enough to do so.

The girl, Rose, didn't answer the other kid, and just kept staring at the ground. He looked like he was about to say something else, but the sound of the door opening distracted him.

Looking toward the entrance, Harry was met with a familiar sight. It was the girl from the garden, standing there with the light from the hallway illuminating her form.

Harry took a step back in fear. That was the same girl that nearly killed him in his dream, and would have had he not woken up the moment she lunged at him. He wasn't sure if she would be able to see him at the moment, but he didn't want to take the risk.

But that wasn't all. Standing behind her was another figure, dressed in a rumpled black suit, hunched over until his face was nearly between his knees, with a golden shackle binding his hands behind his back.

He was pale, unnaturally so, with a balding head holding a few strands of precious hair, and liver spots dotted every inch of his scalp. His face, something that Harry could barely see, was stretched into a forced smile, reaching almost literally to his ears. Beady black eyes stared at everything besides his mistress with disdain.

This must be The Butler that Six mentioned. He certainly seemed to fit the part.

The pair of them walked into the room, and Harry found himself trying to press himself against the wall, trying not to be seen. It was also this time that Harry realized that The Butler wasn't standing at all, he was floating.

That's right, Six mentioned he had psychic powers didn't she? But he didn't remember her saying he could float above the ground. Or did she? He couldn't remember. But if he was The Butler, then the little girl next to him had to be The Pretender, right? He suspected as much, but wasn't sure until now.

He would double check with Six later, if there was a later, just to be absolutely sure. But seeing The Butler defer to her in reverence gave him a pretty clear indication of who she was.

The pair stopped in front of the circle in the center of the room, and that's when Harry noticed The Pretender was carrying a book in her left hand. How had he not seen that before? Was he that afraid? He needed to get a grip, missing details like that could spell his doom.

The Pretender took the book and opened it, casually skimming the pages until she landed on the right one. Her face morphed into a twisted facsimile of a smile, causing Harry to shiver.

And he wasn't the only one. The Hopeful Kid also shivered in fear, though he tried not to show it. The girl, Rose, barely acknowledged The Pretender's presence, giving her a brief glance before returning her gaze to the bottom of the cage.

The Pretender looked at The Butler and shouted something in a language Harry wasn't sure was a language. More like it was intended to sound like she was speaking, but lacked the actual ability to do so.

Either way, The Butler seemed to understand as it began to float towards the cages. The children he appeared next to tried to crawl away from him as fast and as far as they could, which wasn't very far, considering they were in cages.

The Butler inspected each and every cage, one by one, looking at the prisoners trapped inside. What he was looking for, Harry had no idea, but he eventually seemed to find it.

The Hopeful Kid.

He stared at The Butler with defiance, trying to show the monster he wasn't afraid. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the exact trait The Butler needed. His face split into an even more monstrous smile, showing crooked and broken teeth, black as tar. The Butler's eye seemed to light up with an eerie glow, as the cage was gripped by an invisible force, and the door wrenched open.

The Hopeful Kid panicked, as he too was gripped by that same power. "Let me go!" he screamed, clinging to the cage bars for all he was worth. The Butler's expression never changed as he ripped the Hopeful Kid from the cage. He was just too powerful for the strength of one child alone to overcome.

Harry wanted to say something, do something, but what? He couldn't interact with anything, and he couldn't feel his magic either. The only thing he could do was the one thing he didn't want to do.

Watch.

He could always look away, but he felt that would be a disservice to whatever was about to happen. He owed it, not only to himself to learn all he could, but also to the victims of this horrible place.

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So he watched, with growing anger and revulsion, as The Hopeful Kid was forced into the center of the intricate circle. And he wasn't the only one. Every kid, even Rose, watched what was about to happen with apprehension. They didn't know what the monster masquerading as one of them had planned, but they knew it wasn't anything good.

The Pretender watched as the wriggling child was forced against the floor, The Butler holding him firm with his telekinetic powers. After inspecting the child for herself, she seemed to find what she was looking for as well. She looked at the book in her hand, eyes alight with devilish delight as she read the words.

"W-what do you want with me?" asked The Hopeful Kid. But his question would go unanswered, as The Pretender began to chant something in her made up language. Soon, the circle below them began to glow an ominous crimson, and sparks of energy shot off in every direction.

The light above them flickered, faster and faster, until it eventually burst, catching on fire. But instead of normal flames, these ones glowed an ethereal blue, casting the room in a ghostly light, intermixed with the bloody red of the circle below.

A violent wind appeared from nowhere, dust and debris spinning around the room in a vortex. Harry held his arm in front of him, trying to keep the filth from his eyes, being only partially successful.

"W-what are you? Ahh!" screamed The Hopeful Kid, his agony echoing across the room. Harry watched with impotent rage, unable to do anything but observe. His fists clenched tight as he lamented his own helplessness.

"Stop! Please! It hurts! It hurts!" he continued to scream. Rose, who has thus far been mostly apathetic, cried with deep mournful tears streaming down her face, matching the tears of The Hopeful Kid. Harry saw her mouth move up and down, but no words came out. None that he could hear, at least.

The light from the circle reached a crescendo, blinding Harry and the other kids. Soon, there was nothing but silence, deafening in its quietness. Tentatively, Harry peeked out from behind his own arm.

And he wished he hadn't. Where there used to be a kid, there was now a pile of meat, with bits of bone sticking out sporadically. Hair seemed to grow in patches all around the lumpy flesh. Blood seeped out onto the ground, coating it with the life giving liquid.

Harry held his hand to his mouth to keep his dinner safely inside. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did barf, but he didn't want to find out. Puking was bad enough under normal circumstances, he couldn't imagine it would be any better here.

Probably worse, knowing his luck.

But the other kids weren't so lucky, as most of them lost their lunches. Or whatever meal they had in their stomach. Harry's face scrunched up in disgust at the sound of their retching, not that he could blame them for it.

One who didn't throw up, just so happened to be Rose. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared at the thing that used to be a human being. Her face morphed into a visage of pure horror as her breathing became increasingly erratic.

"Brother…" he heard her whisper. Now it was Harry's turn for his eyes to widen. That was her brother? She was forced to watch her own brother be used in whatever sick experiment this was.

That was… Awful, terrible, inhumane, and so much more. Harry didn't think there was enough time in the day to describe the emotions he felt at the revelation.

The Pretender felt none of these emotions, and neither did The Butler. She threw the book on the ground and began shouting what Harry could only assure were curse words. If he didn't know better, he would assume she was a sailor.

It seems like whatever she was trying to accomplish here didn't turn out the way she planned. Guess creating a useless lump of flesh wasn't what she wanted after all.

Her tantrum didn't last too long, thankfully, as she ran out of breath, huffing and puffing in anger. With one last, frustrated huff, she turned on her heel and left the room. The Butler floated there for a few seconds, watching her leave, before using his powers to grab the book and followed after. The door slammed shut behind him as he left, casting the room into darkness.

The room was once more silent, save for the sobbing of the children still locked away inside. Harry wished he could do something, but there was nothing he could do but wonder why he was here in the first place. Wasn't it over? What more could there be?

He wished he hadn't asked that, as a new noise entered the room. No… not new. It was familiar, one he heard not even an hour ago. The sound of something taking n desperate breaths of air, wheezing in agony as it did so.

Harry looked around in fear, as did the other kids. All except for Rose, who just kept staring at the pile of meat that was her brother.

Hang on… The sound… It was coming from…

Harry's eyes bolted towards the center of the room, locked onto the gruesome sight in front of him. Or he would, if he could see anything. But with the door closed and the light shattered above, he couldn't see much more than darkness.

But that didn't stop him from hearing it. The fact that he couldn't actually see the thing only compounded the fear. And this time, there was no Six to ward off the terror. He was alone, with the ghosts of kids who couldn't see him.

Or did that make him the ghost?

One by one, the rest of the kids seemed to figure out where the noise was coming from as well. Staring into the darkness, trying to find the thing responsible for making that horrible, desperate sound.

Was he… still alive? He was breathing, if you could call it that, so he must be alive in some capacity, right? The thought made Harry shiver in revulsion.

But that noise was the same he heard last night. There was no mistaking it. The sound was sure to haunt him for the rest of his days, and now, knowing it was an innocent kid forced into that form by the failed experiment of a monster?

It made it so much worse. Not to mention the fact that they likely killed it as well. They weren't trying to, but well… things happen. It made Harry feel guilty about the whole thing.

But that wouldn't help them; not him, not Six, and certainly not The Hopeful Kid. He wouldn't allow the gnawing guilt to consume him. He couldn't. There was far too much for him to do, mourning and regretting every life he couldn't save would only lead to despair.

It was easy to tell himself that. Convincing himself it was the truth was another matter entirely. Logic and reason don't always get along with emotions after all.

As Harry continued to stare in the direction of The Hopeful Kid, something strange happened. A faint light shone down from somewhere, illuminating the pitch black. He could faintly make out the form of The Hopeful Kid, his bulbous, boneless form rising up and down in tandem with the sound of its breathing.

Looking around, Harry couldn't figure out where the light was coming from. There were no other lights in the room, and the one that was, was thoroughly destroyed. It was like it was coming from Nowhere.

Was it just him? Did it have something to do with the fact that he was in a dream of some kind? That was the only explanation he could think of. Lights don't just appear out of thin air.

Do they?

He couldn't rule out the possibility of it being the world itself wanting him to see the tragedy in front of him. It seemed to get its jollies on the pain and suffering of others, so it was definitely possible. Heck, it could even be The Ferryman himself for all he knew.

If that was the case, then there was something else it wanted him to see. An anxious feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. What else could there be? What else could he possibly be shown?

Harry sought the answers by looking around the room, but there was nothing else he could spot. Nothing but cages, several of them occupied.

And that's when it hit him, like a bolt of lightning. They were occupied, but Harry remembered something different. When he and Six entered the room, it was completely devoid of life. Every cage was empty, save for blood.

"No…" Harry whispered, anxiety turning into dread. If the cages were empty then, but not now, that means something had to have happened to them, right?

Was he…? Could he be… in the past? Was Harry seeing the events leading to the creation of the monster? The more he thought about it, the more sense it started to make.

He was in the past. Guess he wasn't dead after all.

Figuring that out didn't help him much, unfortunately. He still had no idea how to return, unless he needed to see whatever happened here to the end. Which, considering the cages were empty when he entered the room, was something he didn't really want to do.

He could take an educated guess as to what happened to the rest of them.

"Brother, say something. Please," begged Rose. Harry looked at her, only to find she had crawled to the front of the cage, gripping the bars tightly. Tears still cascaded down her face as she called out to her brother.

"Be quiet! Don't wake that thing up!" whisper-shouted another kid. Harry could only shake his head in disbelief. The kid was way louder than Rose. If anyone was going to wake it up, it was him.

"He's not a thing! That's my brother!" Rose shouted angrily.

"I don't care! Just keep your voice down!" the other kid shouted back. He wasn't even trying to be quiet at this point. Harry couldn't help but think it was a good thing Six wasn't here. The shouting would probably give her an aneurism.

Rose didn't respond with words, but her choking sobs could be heard quite clearly. Her entire body shook, wracked by an agonizing despair. Harry looked away, not being able to stomach the sheer sadness of it.

His gaze fell on the fleshy remains of The Hopeful Kid, and Harry's breathing nearly stopped. Its eyes, previously closed, were wide open, looking around the room in a manic frenzy. It was impossible to tell where its face was, even with its eyes fully open. Everything just sort of… blobbed together.

But as Rose's sobs continued, its eyes focused more and more on her, making Harry's skin crawl. He may have been her brother before, but now he was just a monster. As much as Harry hoped there was some semblance of The Hopeful Kid remaining, he wouldn't bet on it.

Hope was a fleeting thing after all, to be discarded for something far more useful, the ability to survive. And considering he already had some experience with the monster he would become…

This could only end badly.

The rest of the kids didn't seem to notice it yet, too enthralled by the exchange of the jerk and Rose. "Will you stop crying already! You're getting on my nerves!" the jerk growled. Harry hasn't wanted to punch somebody this bad since Dudley. The girl just lost her brother, cut her some slack!

But at the same time, he could understand the jerk's position as well. There was a monster-like thing in the room, gasping for air. He'd want everyone to be quiet too, but he wouldn't be so insensitive about it. That was likely to make her cry even more!

And that would make it more likely to draw the thing's attention and put everyone in danger. Though it seems like the jerk cared less about that, and just didn't like the sound of her crying, so Harry still wanted to punch him.

"Come on man, you don't have to be such a jerk," said another kid, making Harry nod along. His point exactly!

"What!? You can't tell me you want to listen to her wailing?" Jerko the jerk asked. The other kid didn't respond, which seemed to be all the confirmation needed.

"That's what I thought," the jerk said, smugly. The other kid tried to deny it, but it was half hearted at best. He wasn't so mean about it, but he didn't actually want to listen to her either.

People suffered and died all the time here, there was no use crying about it. Not like it would bring them back.

As the arguing went on, Harry kept an eye on the blob formerly known as The Hopeful Kid. Its eyes, previously spinning and looking at everything it could, finally stopped and rested on Rose. This time, they didn't look away.

That was either a good thing, or a very bad thing. There didn't seem to be any sort of in between in this place.

She finally seemed to settle down, her cries tuning into pitiful whimpers. The blob of flesh continued to stare at her, and Harry thought he could see confusion in its eyes. Perhaps there was a chance it remembered her after all, and nothing bad was going to happen.

It was right when Harry was having those thoughts, that the real tragedy started to unfold.

"Finally. I thought she'd never shut up. Now let's find a way out of here before we end up like that loser," said the jerk. That seemed to light a fire in Rose, as she stared at him with angry, tear stained eyes.

"Shut up! Don't talk about my brother like that!"

As Rose yelled at him, something seemed to change in the blob's eyes. Confusion gave way to anger, and the whole atmosphere of the room changed. But it seemed like Harry was the only one who noticed.

"Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it huh? Cry some more? Hahaha," the jerk laughed at her. Rose sniffed at that, as more tears threatened to fall down her face, no matter her desperation to prevent them from doing so.

That seemed to be the catalyst that triggered the blob. The final, vengeful act of a brother seeking to destroy the one who made its sister cry, as the last vestige of his soul disappeared.

The blob raised itself up, turning to face the one who was making its sister cry. The whole room grew silent as this happened, watching with bated breath to see what it would do.

The jerk backed up as he stared into the hateful eye of the monster, hitting the back of the cage. Flesh began to ripple and bubble as the blob rose to its full height. Then it stopped, and the world became still.

Without warning, a tendril shot out from the lump of flesh, rocketing towards the jerk. He fell to his rear as the tendril reached the cage, passing through the bars without issue. It enveloped the boy's foot, and began to drag him towards the front.

"No! Stop! Somebody, help!" he screamed, but there was nothing they could do. Everyone was trapped in their own cage, forced to watch the horrible event happening in front of their eyes. And the one person who wasn't in a cage was as impotent as the rest, unable to interact with the world at all.

The jerk grabbed at the bars, trying to halt his advance, but it did very little. The monster was simply too strong. Nothing he, or anyone else could do to stop what was about to happen.

As the boy reached the front, his legs were dragged through the bars, his torso getting stuck between them. For a moment, Harry thought that would be it, that the monstrosity would give up when it couldn't pull the boy through the bars.

But he was wrong. He severely underestimated the barbarism of the former human. It continued to pull, even as the jerk screamed in sheer, utter agony. Slowly, inch by inch, he was forced through.

Harry nearly retched as he listened to the sound of bones breaking and organs being turned to mush, but his current body prevented him from doing so. Blood poured out of the boy's mouth, eyes, nose and ears. It came out everywhere, in amounts Harry couldn't fathom.

Did the human body always have so much blood? He couldn't help the morbid thought as it crossed his mind. As much as Harry didn't like the kid, this was a fate he wouldn't wish on anybody. The pain must have been unimaginable.

"Please stop! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he begged, but it would fall on deaf ears. The bars reached his chest, and with a final, gurgling scream, he finally passed away. Part of Harry was glad, not because he was dead, but because he was no longer in pain. The screams of the dying kid would likely haunt Harry for the rest of his life.

Seems like he would be haunted by many things before his journey was through.

The monster of flesh pulled the new corpse out of the cage towards him, the body slamming into it with a wet splat. The sound made Harry cringe. But that wasn't the only thing that happened.

The body slowly merged with the greater blob, being enveloped by the flesh and becoming one with it. It seemed to grow bigger afterward; the mass being absorbed into its being.

The sight made Harry's eyes widen. He had been wondering how the monster was able to shake the dresser so much with how small it was, and that answered his question. It merged with other kids, adding their flesh to its own.

Not that he was particularly happy about figuring that out. Honestly, he could have gone his whole life without knowing and would have been just fine with that.

Several of the kids who remained retched, adding to the pile they created earlier. Not that Harry could blame them, as he wanted to do the same, but his ghostly figure prevented him from doing so, forcing him to feel the sensation of wanting to throw up without the relief of doing so.

It was very uncomfortable.

The only one who didn't seem to feel the need was Rose, who watched the whole thing in denial. There was no way her brother would do something like that, no matter how mean the person might have been.

"Brother… What did they do to you?"

She received no answer, not that she expected to. There was only one person who could, and she wasn't even a person at all. If she asked The Pretender, she was likely to meet her end.

No, not likely. It was guaranteed.

Eventually, the blob stopped growing, having fully assimilated the other boy into its being. Harry could swear the creature looked a bit more human than it did before, but it was hard to tell in the dim light.

It then turned its gaze toward the rest of the prisoners, and Harry had a sinking feeling he knew what was about to happen. He hoped he would be proven wrong, damn near prayed for it even, but if there was a God, he was unlikely to answer any prayers.

This was the Devil's domain, and God wasn't welcome here.

Harry would unfortunately be proven correct, as one by one, the children suffered the same gruesome fate as the one before them. Squeezed through cage bars too small for them to fit, turning their insides into pulp, it added them into its mass.

Rose begged and pleaded with the thing that used to be her family to stop, but no matter what she said, it refused to listen. It was no longer her brother. She fell to her knees in despair, hands gripping the metal bars tightly as she closed her eyes, refusing to watch any longer.

But she could still hear them.

Harry had never wanted to throw up so bad in his life, but was unable to do so. All he could do was dry heave, as tears flowed down his face. He begged for the creature to stop as well, but his voice was even less successful than Rose's, considering he couldn't be heard at all.

After who knows how long, the screams finally stopped. Harry stopped heaving as well, taking massive gulps of air. If there was one thing he learned from this, it was don't touch weird drawings.

Looking up, Harry saw every cage that had a child in it was now empty, save for one.

Rose.

She was staring at the scene in front of her with blank, empty eyes. It was like the first time he saw her. She had given up. Her brother dying caused a spark of life to enter her, but that had been snuffed out by the cruelty of the world.

Deep, agonized breaths drew Harry's attention back towards the monster, who stood nearly three times the height it started at. It now more resembled the beast Harry knew, even if he only caught the barest glimpse of it before.

But no matter how much he stared, it refused to come into focus. He could only make out the outline of the fiend, its whole body blurry and obscured by darkness. The light that shone before was starting to dim, more and more.

The last thing Harry saw was the tendril of the monster reaching for Rose's cage. "Somebody… help," she pleaded, barely above a whisper.

But Harry heard her, and took off at a sprint, not being able to ignore her cry for help, no matter how soft it was. He knew he couldn't do anything, but he was still determined to try.

"Rose!" he called out, reaching for her, but the world faded into total darkness.