Hp: The Outcast

Darkness. That was all Jon could see around him. It clung to him, suffocating his thoughts. Fear poisoned his mind, shackling him. He felt powerless against the shadows, as if they were alive--waiting for him, stalking him in the dark. This was the same dream he had been seeing for months, yet tonight it felt different. As if behind the curtain, someone was watching him, like a predator, waiting for the moment to strike.

"You're not strong enough, boy."

The voice came from the depths of the dark, cold and mocking. It echoed through the nightmare as Jon jerked awake, gasping for air. His pulse pounded in his ears. He looked around, disoriented, the silence pressing in on him. The room was quiet, bathed in the faint light of the moon, a pale sliver of comfort in an otherwise oppressive night. His sheets were tangled around his legs, damp with sweat. His breathing was ragged, still trapped in the terror of the dream.

Beside him, Daphne slept peacefully. Her warmth, a comforting presence, grounded him back in reality. The soft rise and fall of her chest reminded him that this, at least, was real. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, feeling its coolness cling to his skin. Despite her presence, though, the darkness still lingered in his chest, gnawing at him.

The silence stretched on. He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with a trembling hand. What was happening to him? Why did the nightmares feel so real, so unshakable? His heart still raced as he glanced around the room--everything was in place. Nothing had changed, but somehow everything felt off.

Jon's mind circled back to something Ted had said: "Your dreams, they might be premonitions, Jon." If Ted was right, then what could he do about someone--or something--he couldn't even see? He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself. He had to stop letting it control him.

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, his mind whirling with thoughts and questions. If there was one thing that plagued him more than the darkness of his nightmares, it was the fear of what might come next.

The daylight brought a sense of safety, a fleeting comfort that Jon clung to. The sun, though it was weak and gray outside, offered him the illusion of normalcy. His thoughts felt clearer in the morning light, but the shadows still followed him, lurking just beyond the edge of his mind. He moved through his morning routine mechanically, not really paying attention to what he was doing--getting dressed, brushing his teeth, heading downstairs. The movements felt automatic, like he was just going through the motions, trying to outrun the storm in his chest.

By the time he reached the dining hall for breakfast, the air had shifted. The usual noise and laughter filled the room, but Jon couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The chatter of his friends felt distant, muffled. He spotted Ted, Daphne, and Tori already at the table, waiting for him, their faces bright and carefree.

"Morning," he mumbled, sliding into the seat beside Ted.

Daphne and Tori exchanged a quick glance. They had both noticed the tension in his posture, the tightness in his expression. Jon had always been quiet, but this was different--this was something that ran deeper than usual.

Ted, ever the optimist, leaned forward, grinning. "So, today marks the start of a lot of new things, huh? The dueling club, Tori's practice with the team…" He turned to Tori, his eyes bright with excitement. "Excited?"

Tori wiped her face dramatically, trying to mask the nerves bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "Yeah, I guess. Though it's a sausage fest," she added with a chuckle, trying to keep the mood light. "But I'll fit right in, I'm sure."

Jon smiled weakly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "They'd be fools if they couldn't see your talents."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze never leaving Jon's face. "When's your practice, Tori? If we finish early, we could come cheer you on."

Tori shook her head, brushing them off with a smile. "You guys don't have to. You'll be exhausted from practice yourselves. Besides, Tracey will be there with me."

Tracey, who had been mostly silent up until this point, snapped her fingers with a grin. "You know I'll be there."

Jon felt a pang of guilt. He knew his friends meant well, but he couldn't bring himself to share what was really bothering him. He wasn't sure they'd understand. How could he explain something so intangible, something that only existed in the dark corners of his mind?

The conversation shifted as they finished their breakfast. Jon stayed quiet, pushing food around his plate, his thoughts swirling. The nightmare still lingered at the edges of his mind, and the weight of it pressed down on him, making it hard to focus on anything else. Ted noticed but said nothing, sensing that Jon needed space.

After breakfast, the group split up for their classes. Jon, Ted, Daphne, and Tori were walking down the hall after Arithmancy when they noticed a large crowd gathered outside one of the classrooms. Curious, Jon gestured toward it.

"What's all this about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Daphne squinted through the throng of students. "Should we check it out?"

Tori glanced at them, then at the clock. "I've got practice, so I'll see you guys later." She waved and slipped off into the crowd, leaving Jon and Daphne to navigate their way through.

Jon looked at Daphne, who shrugged. "Why not?" he said, leading the way.

As they squeezed through the crowd, Jon overheard snippets of an argument between a student and the professor. The student was standing at the front, his voice brimming with passion.

"What about Muggle medicine?" the student asked, his tone almost challenging. "They have cures for nearly everything, and it's available to everyone! Saint Muggo's research on incurable diseases is a huge step forward. We're just getting started compared to them!"

The professor, who Jon hadn't recognized until now, stood across from the student with a calm yet piercing gaze. He was a tall man, with a presence that demanded attention. His thick German accent carried through the room as he responded.

"And what, you think we are the only ones working to cure diseases?" he asked, his voice sharp, but not without a certain magnetic charisma. "Muggles are doing the same. In fact, their advancements in modern medicine have lowered mortality rates dramatically. By 2010, they'll be at five billion in population. And because of their research, they're able to detect diseases earlier, pinpoint causes of hereditary diseases--"

Jon blinked, surprised. "Didn't expect a wizard to know so much about Muggle medicine," he muttered, mostly to himself.

The professor's eyes flicked to him, and he smiled slightly. "What do you think is the greatest power humanity--Muggles and wizards--has ever been granted?" He paused, letting the room fall silent. "Anyone?"

Hermione's hand shot up, eager to answer. "Ingenuity?"

The professor gave her a nod but didn't acknowledge the answer fully. Instead, his gaze shifted to Jon. "You, my boy. What do you think?"

Jon hesitated for a moment. The professor's direct gaze felt almost magnetic, pulling him in. He thought carefully before responding.

"The ability to dream," Jon said quietly, but with conviction. "To go places no one's ever been before. To make the impossible happen."

The professor's smile deepened, and he leaned forward, his tone growing more animated. "Ah, yes. Dreamers. The persistent ones. The ones who, when they set their sights on something, will do anything to achieve it." His voice carried through the room like a spell, drawing in each student's attention. "Muggles have walked on the moon. They peer into distant stars, searching for life on other worlds. They've built entire cities without magic, where none existed before. If we, as wizards, are to compete with them--then we, too, must innovate. We cannot remain static."

He turned to Daphne, his gaze lingering on her. "Miss Greengrass, your father is a key player in this recent surge of innovation. It's true that we don't know who is behind these inventions. We need more men like them. Wizards who are willing to challenge the status quo, who will not apologize for their defiance." He looked around the room, his eyes intense. "Only then will we stand a chance at competing with Muggles--or, perhaps, even surpassing them."

Jon sat in stunned silence, the words sinking in. Could it be true? Was he, too, supposed to be a "dreamer," pushing the boundaries of what was possible? Was his fear, his nightmares, a call to break free from the confines of his own limitations?

The professor's words lingered in the air like a spell, casting a long shadow over him. Daphne caught his eye, and for a moment, she seemed to understand.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the fog of his thoughts.

Jon didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched on for a beat before he shook his head. "I'm not sure."