Ch. 30: The Sole Survivor
[The countdown commences: Five, Four, Three, Two, One...]
A mental countdown to his imminent return echoed in Jon's mind. He was primed for the unknown, uncertain of what he could retrieve from this realm, or in what form it might manifest.
He kept Igris and the phoenix close, along with an assortment of magical wands, galleons, and various magical paraphernalia. The majority of these items were stowed in Niffler's magical pocket.
[Zero!]
As these words materialized, the world seemed to freeze. The ethereal, luminous door reappeared in his mind. As it slowly swung open, Jon's consciousness was drawn towards it.
...
In a modest rental house on Cranberry Street, Brooklyn, an eleven-year-old girl with brown hair sat, engrossed in cartoons on the television.
Her pale skin and distinctive facial features mirrored Jon's. Her face was smooth, devoid of freckles, and her intelligent eyes added a spark to her delicate features. She was Jon's cousin.
Tom and Jerry played on the screen. Despite her age-appropriate fondness for such cartoons, she had seen this episode multiple times, leading to a sense of ennui.
She switched channels, landing on a football game, then a news channel. Just as she was about to change the channel again, the news content caught her attention. She leaned forward, her focus now entirely on the television.
"Rescue efforts are underway as some carriages continue to burn. Casualties remain undetermined. We believe the incident on Metro Line 7 was a result of a terrorist attack..."
The news left her feeling uneasy. She moved to the refrigerator in the living room, where a schedule was posted. One entry read: "Jon took the No. 7 subway for his interview today."
Feeling faint, she steadied herself against the refrigerator door, her breath coming in short gasps.
The sound of a key turning in the lock was followed by hurried footsteps. A woman in her twenties, her face etched with panic, rushed in. She was the girl's elder sister.
Upon seeing her sister leaning against the refrigerator, she rushed over, wiping away her tears. "Ayla!" she said, "Let's go! Let's go see Jon."
A black van awaited them downstairs. Once inside, she directed her sister to the back seat, where a young man with curly blond hair sat.
After fastening her seat belt, she said to the man, "Let's go!"
...
Jon slowly opened his eyes, finding himself on a sterile hospital bed, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectants.
He sat up slowly, noticing a severely injured man on a nearby bed. Doctors bustled around him, their faces grim.
One of the doctors, noticing Jon awake, approached him. "I'm Dr. Brown, and this is Central Hospital. You've been involved in a serious terrorist attack."
As he spoke, he shone a small flashlight in Jon's face. Jon flinched, but the doctor instructed him to stay still.
After the examination, the doctor asked, "How do you feel now?"
Jon replied, "It feels... like a dream!"
"A dream?" the doctor asked, his tone serious.
"No, I mean... I'm fine!" Jon quickly corrected himself. In truth, his recent journey to the world of Harry Potter did feel like a dream.
He noticed that none of his magical belongings, including the magical creatures like the dragon, the Niffler, the Swooping Evil, and the phoenix, had returned with him.
"Could it be that items and creatures from Harry Potter's universe can't be brought back?" Jon pondered. Despite this, he wasn't entirely disheartened. He still retained the power of the ghost rider and some knowledge of magic.
The doctor, satisfied with Jon's response, began to ask a series of questions.
"Do you have a headache, nausea, palpitations, or any other symptoms?" he asked.
"No!" Jon replied truthfully, then added, "Well, maybe a little."
"Do you feel any pain in your body?" the doctor continued.
"Yes, my arms and chest are aching!" Jon lied, wanting to make his story believable. It would be implausible for an ordinary person to survive a train explosion without a single injury.
The doctor noted down his responses, then asked, "Where were you in the carriage?"
Jon thought for a moment, then replied, "The very front row in the first carriage of the train."
"Left or right?" the doctor probed further.
"Left!" Jon lied again. He had been on the right, near the bomb. It would be impossible for him to survive unscathed in that position.
"Did you have any family members traveling with you?" the doctor asked.
Jon shook his head. "No, I was traveling alone to an interview."
The doctor fell silent, looking at Jon with a strange expression. "The subway you were on suffered a terrorist attack. The explosion occurred in your carriage, and you... are the only surviving passenger in that carriage!" he said quietly.
He pointed to the patient on the nearby bed. "That man was in the carriage behind your carriage. He has a fractured skull, multiple compound fractures, and severe burns. Plus, he was the only surviving passenger in his carriage."
Jon swallowed hard, realizing how insignificant his lies were in the face of this reality. He was the only survivor in his carriage, and he was unscathed. This was highly suspicious.
He wondered if he would attract the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. due to this. In his memory, Nick Fury, the current director of S.H.I.E.L.D., should already be preparing for the Avengers plan.
"No, this was just an accident. It shouldn't alarm S.H.I.E.L.D. Their focus should be on Iron Man and Hulk now!" Jon reassured himself.
After his conversation with the doctor, Jon stepped out of the emergency room. The hospital corridor was crowded, and as Jon emerged, all eyes turned to him.
These were the relatives of the victims, their faces falling as they realized Jon was not their loved one.
"Jon!"
Hearing his name, Jon turned to see a young man and woman in their twenties, and a teenage girl. They were his cousin Annie, her boyfriend Chris, and his cousin Ayla, who lived with him in New York.
They were Jon's only family.
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