"C'mon my boy, there's something I'd like to show you. That's it. It's right below the pier here." Great Uncle Algie led his nephew down to the edge of Blackpool pier. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
The boy, no more than five years old, hesitated, stopping at various intervals and even managing to trip over the cuffs of his trousers. He got to his feet again and stood where he was. "Where is it?"
"It's down here," Algie called as he stood at the very end of the pier. "It's fantastic!"
The boy suckled his thumb for a few moments, unsure of what to do. "Gran said I'm not supposed to go near the water."
"Oh, it's not dangerous, lad. I'll be here." Algie beckoned the boy to come closer.
The boy wavered, then slowly walked over to the edge of the pier and looked down. "I don't see anything but wat-"
Algie placed his hand on the boy's back and gave him a firm shove. The boy stared, horrified, as the water rushed ever closer to him. He plunged into the ocean, and his mind drifted away.
When the boy awoke, he expected his Gran to be there. But she wasn't. He felt that he was lying in grass. He stood up and looked around. Tall green grass grew as far as he could see, all the way to the horizon. The boy, scared and tired, sat back down on the grass and began to cry. He sobbed silently, the way he usually cried. It upset his Gran less if he didn't wail.
"What's the matter, little one?" A female voice suddenly asked. "Are you lost?"
The boy choked back a few tears and nodded. The woman kneeling in front of him was no more than a blur to his watery eyes.
"Well, then," the woman said gently. "Let's get you found." She dabbed at the boy's cheeks with a pink handkerchief. As she touched the boy, she gasped slightly. "You're not meant to be here."
The boy sniffled. "I-I-I'm s-s-sorry..."
"Oh, little one. It's not your fault," the woman got to her feet and offered the boy her hand. "I'll take you to where you need to be."
The boy gulped down a sob or two and placed his hand in hers. "Th-thank you." He felt the warmth from the woman's hand, and it comforted him a little. "My name's N-..."
The woman swiftly placed her fingers over the boy's lips. "Don't say your name out loud here, little one."
The boy's eyes, though red from tears, grew wide. "Wh-why?"
"This place lays claim to all living things eventually," the woman answered. "But your time hasn't come yet. Your name is you, and once this place has a hold of it, then it has a hold of you as well."
The boy hesitated. "Where am I?"
The woman looked at the boy. "Well, that's a difficult question to answer. Do you understand what it means to be dead?"
The boy's grasp on the woman's hand grew tighter. "I-I think so. That's when you go to sleep and never wake up."
"That's one way of putting it," the woman said as they walked through the grass. "Let's see if I can explain it to you. Every person has a soul."
The boy nodded. "I know..."
The woman smiled. "Then you're a very clever boy. And when a person dies, the soul leaves the body and travels to this place."
A terrified look came over the boy's eyes. "Does that mean I'M dead?"
"No, little one! I didn't mean it that way. That's why I said you're not meant to be here. This place, it's like a threshold, a barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead. You've still got a foothold on the world of the living, something that binds you there."
"Oh...does that mean, you're dead?"
"Yes, little one. It does."
"I'm sorry," the boy said, looking at his feet.
"It's alright. I have a nice existence here, helping wayward children like you find their way."
The boy looked confused. "Wayward?"
"Wayward. That means lost. You see, when I died, it was because I was protecting my son. A mother's love is the strongest ward against evil, you know. So now my soul is here, protecting other children. I've seen many of your kind here. Children who flow into the threshold when they're not meant to."
"I'm still sorry you died," the boy said.
"But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to help you, little one."
The boy smiled weakly. "Oh. That makes it confusing, doesn't it? Do you miss your son?"
"Yes, I do. But I am happy that he is still alive, even though I'm not." The woman looked at the boy. "Now that I think about it, there's something about your face that's familiar..."
The boy bit his bottom lip. It wasn't every day when a dead person said that they knew you.
"But no matter. Here's the path." She pointed to a narrow dirt road running through the grass. "Follow it to the end. You'll see a river and a stone archway, covered by a veil. You must cross the river to get back to the world of the living. Do not go through the archway. That leads to the land of the dead."
"Cross the river," the boy repeated. Repeating things helped him remember.
"Good. Remember, little one. Like water, life only flows one way. Either living, or dead. But if you're bound here, you can only finish the cycle. Get bound here, and you can only exit through the archway."
The boy nodded slightly, not really understanding, but at least remembering not to say his own name.
"Here's where I take my leave, little one." The woman let go of the boy's hand.
"Please! Don't go! Come with me. So you can see your son."
"I'm afraid things don't work out that way. If I leave, then who will take care of the wayward children?"
The boy frowned. Of course the woman was right. But he still felt bad leaving her here alone. "Oh. Thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome, little one."
"I like your eyes. They're green." The boy stepped onto the path and started to walk away.
He had followed the path for what seemed like hours before he encountered something strange. Two faded shapes sitting at the side of the path. They almost looked like ghosts, but they were less than ghosts. They seemed on the verge of disappearing completely.
"Is someone there?" asked one of the shapes.
The boy stopped walking. "Um...m-m-m-me."
"A child," the other shape moaned. "We can't bother a child."
"We've got to," the first shape said. "There's no other choice. We're lost, child. We have no idea where we are. Can you please tell us what this place is? Our eyesight had faded along with our bodies. We can't see where we are."
The boy tried hard to remember what the woman said. "The thresh...the threshold between worlds."
"D'you hear that, my dear?" the first shape said. "We're at the threshold."
"We've died, Frank. We've died!" moaned the second faded shape.
"No, not as long as we don't enter the archway, Alice."
The boy stepped back in shock. Frank and Alice were the names of HIS parents. But they weren't dead. Gran said they were mad. Their minds had gone. But now the boy knew where their minds had gone TO.
"Child, could you help us?" the shape called Frank asked. "We need to cross the river. We need to get back."
The boy nodded vigorously. "Y-y-yes. I'll help you. The path's...the path is straight. It's not hard to follow. But...I'll help you..."
He reached out for the hands of the two shapes, gaping at how cold they felt. He then tugged them forward, and they walked in silence for a long while. The boy finally caught sight of the river and the archway. On the near side of the river was a small rowboat. "We're almost there... I see a boat we can use."
"I wonder how Neville is now? I wonder if he'll know who we are?" the shade called Alice asked.
The boy tensed, grasping even tighter on their hands.
"Mum said that she'll take care of him no matter what, so he'll be fine," Frank answered. "Thank you, child, for helping us. Would it be alright to ask you your name?"
The boy automatically opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again. What had the woman said? Don't say your own name, or you will be stuck in this place forever, and your only exit will be the archway. "Um...I've forgotten..."
"It's alright, child," the Frank-shape said.
"At least we could let the child know ours. My name is Alice."
"NO!" the boy screamed, letting go of the shapes. He stumbled to the ground and began to cry.
"What's wrong, child?"
"...stuck...here...said...your...name...stuck...here...stuck..." The boy repeated the same words over and over, his eyes brimming with tears.
"We're stuck here?" the Alice-shape asked.
"Oh, Merlin's beard. I'd forgotten." the Frank-shape answered. "If one says their name in this place, they're bound to it. You won't be able to cross the river."
"Frank, go with the child. I'll stay here."
"I won't leave you alone in this place!" the Frank-shape said. "If you must stay here, I'm staying with you."
"But the child, Frank. He's so...so sad..." The Alice-shape stuck her hands out, feeling for the boy. "Where are you, child? Ah-hah. Found you." She rummaged through her ghostly robes and removed something from one of her pockets. "Don't be sad. I've got a sweet for you."
The boy sat up, staring at the faded woman, and for the first time paying attention to her face. His Gran was right. He DID look like her. "What...sort...of sweet...?" he managed to choke out.
The Alice-shape smiled, her unseeing eyes staring off into space. "It's gum. I'm sorry it's not chocolate." She held up the pack of gum, as ghostly and faded as she was, and the boy gently took it from her. "There, now, that's Drooble's gum. The best there is."
The boy sniffed back a few tears, staring at the gum in his pudgy hand. "Thank...thank you..." he said, pocketing the pack.
"Now, child, you must go across the river." The Frank-shape said. "Get in the boat."
"But what about you?" asked the boy, his eyes still red from crying.
"I suppose we'll have to stay here." The Frank-shape held the Alice-shape in a tight hug. "Until we can figure out a way to get back to the land of the living."
The boy got in the boat, and it immediately began to speed across the river. He felt suddenly sleepy, and had to lay himself down in the boat.
"NEVILLE!"
"G-G-Gran?" The boy snapped awake at the sound of a familiar voice. He was lying in a muggle hospital bed.
"Thank Merlin! Thank Merlin!" Gran exclaimed. "You can be sure I gave your great uncle a stern talking to. Imagine knocking you off Blackpool pier. And for what? To scare the magic out of you! Your uncle is an idiotic dolt. Makes me wonder how your grandfather's related to him..."
As Gran went on one of her familiar rantings, the boy slipped his hand into his pockets. He sighed unhappily. The gum had gone.
"Oh, look, Neville. Your Mum has something for you." the nurse said.
The boy stared at the thing in his mum's hand. It was a gum wrapper.
"Take it now, dear. You can always throw it away later," whispered his Gran.
The boy took the gum wrapper and pocketed it. "Thanks, Mum." She remembered, the boy thought. She actually remembered. That meant that she was still there, somewhere inside that tortured body, a piece of his mother was still there!
His mum, wild eyes still lolling, grimaced at him in what might have been a disturbing parody of a smile.
"Gran, how long will it be until I get to Hogwarts?" The boy was holding his grandmother's hand as they headed for the nearest chimney connected to the Floo Network. His short legs had to work extra hard to keep up with her.
"Not for quite a few years yet, I'm afraid," his grandmother answered. "And that's only if you're magic enough. It's the best wizarding school in the world, you know. Why are you so eager to go now?"
"Maybe," the boy said, "If I study hard enough, I can find out a way to bring Mum and Dad back." He slipped his hand into his pocket, making sure the gum wrapper was still there. Because if she still remembers, the boy thought, then I will too.