The entire station was deserted.
Even the legendary Death who supposedly governed this place between arrival and departure was nowhere to be seen.
Rhys lowered his head.
To his astonishment, his hands were covered in densely packed scales.
When he looked behind himself, he discovered that his legs had vanished as well, replaced by a snake's tail.
He touched his cheek.
Sure enough, scales covered his face too.
So this place displayed the true form of his soul?
A faint understanding rose in Rhys's mind.
It actually made quite a bit of sense.
If he chose to become a ghost now, his appearance would probably be terrifying even by ghostly standards.
He slithered forward a couple of steps and discovered that he adapted surprisingly well to his half-snake body.
If he had not looked down, he might not even have noticed the change.
After wandering aimlessly for a few steps, Rhys fell into thought.
What was he supposed to do next?
Rhys was stumped by the question.
He found a chair and sat down, beginning to think seriously.
There was no experience left behind by predecessors that he could draw on in this realm. He could only explore it himself. The situation Godric had described was far too ancient to serve as any meaningful reference now.
After thinking for a while, Rhys's thoughts gradually began to drift, and for once, his mind emptied completely.
He had no idea how much time passed before the whistle of a train pulled him out of his daze and back to reality.
Rhys saw a train break through the mist in the distance and pull up beside the platform at King's Cross Station.
With a creak, the carriage doors slid open on their own.
A faint intuition surfaced in Rhys's mind.
Driven by that instinct, he boarded the train.
The carriage was completely empty.
Before he could begin exploring, Rhys heard another whistle from the front of the train.
Even after the whistle sounded, the train did not depart immediately. It remained at the platform for another minute with its doors open, as though giving the passengers aboard one last chance to change their minds and get off, or perhaps giving those still on the platform a final opportunity to board.
One minute later, the doors slowly closed.
The train shuddered and began to move.
Rhys went to the door and stared back at King's Cross Station.
As the train accelerated, the station gradually fell behind and disappeared into the thick white mist.
The fog blocked Rhys's vision, and before long, he could no longer see any trace of the station.
Rhys suddenly realised something rather horrifying.
If the form people took upon arriving at the station was the form of their souls, then what about wizards who had created Horcruxes...?
Their souls should be mutilated.
Would they truly be able to board this train?
And if they failed to get onto it within the allotted time, would the train ever return after departing?
So this was the reason wizards who created Horcruxes could not reincarnate.
Rhys felt as though he had gained another piece of valuable knowledge.
Before, he had only known the fact without understanding the reason.
Now he could explain the underlying principle.
As long as a Horcrux was not destroyed, the wizard who created it would not truly die.
But once the Horcruxes were destroyed and they genuinely died, the soul that arrived in the in-between would be incomplete.
Such a soul could not board the train of reincarnation.
It could only remain trapped here and become nourishment for the space between arrival and departure.
By this point, the train had reached full speed.
Rhys walked through the corridor and looked around.
There was no one aboard.
Even the driver's cab at the front of the train was empty.
The train was completely operating on its own.
"So the Muggles' science-fiction fantasies have been realised here."
Rhys muttered to himself, then remembered that clumsy spell Rowena had invented.
He found a seat and sat down, gazing through the window at the endless white world outside.
"In Muggle myths, people either go to heaven or hell after death. Judging by all this white mist, am I heading to heaven?"
Rhys nearly laughed at his own joke.
If someone like him could enter heaven, there was only one possible explanation.
Godric Gryffindor must have opened a shared account for him up there and transferred some of his accumulated virtue to Rhys.
After letting his thoughts wander for a while, Rhys noticed that some of the white mist was beginning to seep into the carriage through the gaps.
Rhys instinctively felt that the mist was probably not a good thing and found himself resisting it.
Sure enough, the moment the mist touched his skin, the scales covering his body began releasing thin wisps of white smoke, as though they were becoming part of the mist itself.
Yet the process caused no pain whatsoever.
On the contrary, it felt almost as refreshing as taking a cool shower in summer.
Rhys: !!!
His first instinct was to expel the mist and completely seal the carriage.
But when he actually tried to act, Rhys discovered that he seemed to have lost the ability to use magic.
'Now I really can sympathise with Voldemort.'
Rhys gave a bitter smile.
For the first time, he understood how Voldemort must have felt whenever Rhys sealed away his ability to use magic.
Fortunately, the scales covering his body were quite sturdy, so the white mist could not do much to him in a short period of time.
'Hm?'
As Rhys watched the white mist eroding his body, he suddenly realised something.
A thousand years ago, the Underworld had existed.
Some of the dead reincarnated, while others fell into the Underworld.
What determined the difference?
Or rather...
Did this train even have a final destination?
The moment that thought occurred to him, Rhys immediately stood up and pulled the carriage window fully open.
White mist poured inside at once, filling the compartment.
Rhys immersed himself completely in the fog and allowed it to erode the scales covering his body.
Worried that there might not be enough time, he even began tearing the scales off himself.
If he had a choice, Rhys would certainly choose reincarnation.
If he fell into the Underworld, there was no telling when he would ever regain his freedom.
Rhys acted decisively.
By the time he felt the train beginning to slow down, he had almost completely merged with the white mist.
His consciousness was also gradually becoming blurred.
'Good thing I was one step ahead.'
That was Rhys's final thought before his consciousness completely faded.
The white mist had already flooded the train, but it did not prevent the train from continuing forward.
Eventually, the train burst out of the fog and entered a new station.
By then, every trace of white mist inside the carriages had vanished.
Unlike King's Cross Station, this new platform had staff.
They simply looked somewhat different from ordinary people.
A conductor wearing a full railway uniform boarded the train.
He stood upright like a human, but had three dog heads.
The conductor carefully patrolled the carriages from end to end.
He did not overlook a single corner.
As he searched, all three heads and six eyes were opened wide, while all three noses twitched constantly.
He was clearly using both sight and smell to ensure that absolutely nothing escaped his notice.
A voice came from outside the train.
"Three-Headed Dog, search carefully. If you miss anyone, neither of us will be able to bear the consequences!"
"I know."
The three-headed dog muttered irritably.
"So much nonsense!"
He had three heads.
How could he possibly miss anyone?
At the same time, within the white mist outside the station, a streak of light flashed past and raced toward the distant world of the living.
____
12 Chaps ahead at Patreon.com/HornyFBI