57 Fate

In a cold, dark world in a separate dimension from Earth, far away but existing so closely, laid an infant, sleeping so soundly yet, to people in close contact with it, they would realize that the infant was not breathing nor did it have a heartbeat.

From the greyish tint on the infant's skin, it was obvious that it had been dead for quite some time already. Even traces of frost had started to appear on its body from being exposed to the cold for so long without any trace of heat nearby but, curiously, the infant's fingers moved subtly every once in awhile, as if the infant was merely dreaming in its sleep.

Suddenly, red dewdrops began to form on the ceiling of the cave the infant slept in, slowly growing until it finally couldn't resist the pull of gravity anymore and fell right onto the infant's cheek. Then, from the first drop that fell, others began to form and fall as well.

Two drops, three drops, five drops, ten drops falling onto the infant's cheek, streaming down into the infant's slightly parted mouth.

After the first drop went into the infant's mouth, the infant began to stir, licking its lips as if to get another taste of the sweet, coppery flavor that lingered on it's lips.

As more of that thick, rusty liquid fell on the infant's mouth, the infant began to look more energetic. The frost that covered parts of its body began to thaw and the greyish tint on its skin began to slowly fade, revealing a healthier tone.

When the liquid stopped falling from the ceiling, the infant whined in complaint, greedy for more and, just then, its eyes flew open, revealing orbs of glistening crimson, a brighter red than the color of the liquid that had fallen from the ceiling and yet, it looked a hundred times more ominous.

Despite the frightening eyes of the infant, it actually had facial features that were too soft to hate and, with a smile so pure, the infant giggled innocently, unaware that its awakening would spell eternal sleep for many. Perhaps, if it knew, it would choose to never wake up at all.

But, unfortunately, that isn't what fate had decreed. In fact, none of this was.

This was all, a twist in fate.

And it's a bad twist.

...

As more days passed, the infant began to grow in a crazy speed. From its previous malnourished look, it now grew healthier and bigger. It no longer looked like a newborn and, instead, it now looked to be a few months old, nearly like a year old.

The more red liquid it ingested, the bigger and stronger it grew. Despite only a few days passing, it actually already had enough strength to begin learning how to crawl.

Curiously, the infant would always head to a certain direction in the cave whenever it crawled, babbling happily as if trying to converse with an invisible person and raising its arms with a happy smile when it reached its destination, as if asking to be picked up.

Other than its ghastly pale skin and red eyes as well as its choice of food, the infant looked and acted no different from other infants.

It cried when it felt lonely or hungry, laughed when it was happy, was constantly curious about its surroundings, and was in constant need of attention.

The infant grew bigger, day by day, hour by hour, the progress was so fast that it was visible to the naked eye, and soon, the infant had grown to be a toddler.

With the same innocent smile on the toddler's face, it babbled incoherent words, trying to form its first words as it wobbled its way towards the same corner that it had been heading to for days, trying its hardest to walk without falling over and smiling triumphantly when it succeeded.

It's arms stretched out towards the invisible person on the corner and it babbled in excitement. "Ca...."

The toddler was trying to speak once again, its shaky voice echoing in the empty cave. "Cas... Casimah..."

"Casimir!" The child's innocent giggling filled the cave.

...

"Casimir! Casimir! Wake up!" Theodore shook Casimir awake, confused about how their normally light sleeper friend was suddenly sleeping so deeply. "Wake up! We'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon."

"Mmh..." Casimir groaned sleepily but opened his eyes, looking around him in confusion and realized that he was in the train and not inside the cold cave. "... Thanks."

Beside him, sat Theodore who was looking at him with a complicated expression. For some reason, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Probably off making trouble with Crabbe and Goyle.

Theodore studied Casimir's haggard appearance and thought deeply. He has such dark circles underneath his eyes. Maybe he didn't get any sleep...

As for Casimir, he just smiled wryly to himself. I've been getting similar dreams these past few days. Always about the small bun in the cave.

He caressed the dark crimson, almost black mark at the back of his neck which appeared after he had made the connection with the scythe. This is your doing isn't it?

Don't worry. You're not alone anymore.

I'm here now, Fate.