Somewhere, Harry woke up in white fog. His hands were sliding over the hard and stony ground he was lying on, but he could not remember where he was at. The last thing he knew he saw were the onyx eyes of his beloved Dad-man, and the light that had come from somewhere.
"Daddy?" he called, but it sounded hollow and an echo of "Daddy, addy, ddy, dy, y, y" came back to him. He wasn't cold, but he didn't feel hot either.
"Daddy, where are you?" he called, but not so loud this time. He didn't like the echo. He wasn't really scared, but it did give him the creeps. There was nobody around. Carefully he sat up, but the only thing he could see was the thick white mist. Slowly he got up to his feet. He realized in that moment that he wore no shoes. He was in his pyjamas and he still couldn't see anything. The fog felt cool and watery on his skin and the stones where poking in his naked feet.
'Where should I go?' he was wondering. But actually it didn't matter. Every direction looked the same to him and when he would go forward, maybe in real he would go backwards. And when he would go to his right side, maybe he was going to the left instead?
But he needed to move, he couldn't be standing here forever.
So he moved a couple steps forward, his arms stretched out so he wouldn't run into something since it was impossible to see. He stopped, tried to look around and moved a little more, only to stop again.
Suddenly, he thought he'd seen something in front of him through the mist. It looked scary, but it didn't move. Maybe it was a scarecrow or was it someone waiting for him? With a little heartbeat he moved closer, step by step. When he came closer he realized it was a tree. Not a big tree, but bigger than him. Looking around he still saw nothing but thick mist – and the long black naked branches of the tree.
Somehow he felt relieved, he wasn't alone anymore; even a tree was alive.
He stood under the tree, with his back leaning against its trunk, feeling the bark through his pyjama top. When he looked up into the crown, he saw it branching out. Thick leaves were suddenly growing on branches and twigs, right here, before his eyes.
"Hello tree," he whispered, forcing an unsure smile on his face. It wasn't the tree's fault that he felt lonely.
With a little imagination, he could see a sunbeam breaking through the green leaves. He wished for the sun and for warmth. And he felt tears coming up. He wanted to be with his Daddy, he didn't like this cold and uncomfortable place.
Just when the first tear fell down his cheek, he heard the noise of flapping wings. Looking up into the tree again, he saw a big black bird sitting on the lowest branch, looking at him with interest in deep black eyes.
"Hello bird," he said, trying hard not to cry. Brave, he forced the smile back on his face and looked up at the bird. It looked beautiful with black feathers and a dark green shimmer on them. It lay it's head on the side, a gesture that looked so familiar to him. He could have sworn that the bird pulled up an eyebrow too – if the bird would have had one. But just the first gesture was enough. The tears fell freely now and the little boy glided down the tree into a sitting position, embracing his knees with his arms, laying his small head on them and starting to crying.
"So lonely, so lonely, my poor child." It was as if he felt caressing through the mist of tears. Something soft was gently touching him, stroking over his body like a warm summer breeze. A lovely female voice sounding sweetly in his ears. He felt comforted but when he finally picked up his head, he realised once again that he was alone. He still sat on the ground by the tree and there was still the white fog all around him. He had no idea where this voice had come from and when he turned around to look up into the tree, he saw golden-green leaves on the black branches and shades of sunlight.
The black bird was still sitting on the lowest branch. He knew better, but he could have sworn that the bird was smiling at him.
Swallowing, he tried again. "Hello, bird," he said in a hoarse whisper. His throat felt tight from all the crying.
"Good morning, my dear child." He heard the answer, but saw no movement at all. Did the bird speak to him? A talking bird? Where in the world was he? And how did he get here? And where was his Daddy? The last question must have slipped out of him, because he heard the lovely voice again. Someone answered him.
"You came here by yourself. It is very rare that two or more people of one family come at the same time. It happens occasionally, but the last step you have to walk alone. No, don't be afraid. But tell me, who is your Daddy?"
Sadly smiling, Harry told her of the potions master, who had found him in the graveyard and had taken him home to feed and teach him, who had told him stories, who had been with him always and had loved him – him the freak, that nobody had wanted ever before.
"He is a great wizard. He made me green socks –" for a moment he thought he'd cry again, because the socks where in his room at Spinner's End, with his Kneazle. He had to swallow down hard before he could keep on talking. "- and he has given me my Professor, a black cat, no it's a Kneazle. His mommy had given it to him when he was little. And he gave it on to me. I need to go back to him; he is so alone without me, my Daddy and my Kneazle…" he just couldn't help it; the tears just fell down his cheeks.
"What's your name, darling?" he heard the warm voice ask.
"Harry," he sniffed. "It's Harry Potter. But my Daddy calls me 'Little One.'" Looking up to where the voice came from, he saw the bird sitting. Here he was, speaking to a bird!
"'Little One'…" The voice repeated in a whisper.
After a short silence, where Harry was still thinking of his Daddy, the bird asked: "What's your Daddy's name?"
"Severus…" He suddenly realized that he had no clue to what his Daddy's last name was. He knew how his Daddy looked like, and his house, he knew all kinds of stories about him, but if he would ever get lost, he didn't have enough information to return home, onto his Daddy's lap. He felt despair rise. Was that the reason why he was here, because he got lost?
"And your mother…?" The warm voice interrupted his thoughts.
"My Mommy and Papa died when I was little," he told the bird, no longer thinking of Severus, but of the mean stories uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia had told him. "They got killed in a… in a car crash. Because my Papa was… was… was a… a drunk," he ended in a hoarse whisper.
Now he had the feeling the bird was laughing at him. Confused he looked up to the branch on where the bird was sitting. But the beak was still closed; the only thing that changed were the eyes. They were twinkling madly.
"Darling," she said. Then she spread her wings and with a surprise silent movement landed on his shoulder.
"Are you a raven?" Harry wanted to know. He didn't want to think of his Mommy or his Papa or his Daddy – it hurt too much.
"Yes, I am." He still had the impression as if she would smile. "Follow me, Little one." And with that, she leapt off his shoulder into the air, circling him one time and flew into the white fog onto his left.
First he was too surprised to move – she had called him 'Little One' – just like his Daddy…
"Wait!" he called after her, turning and just be swallowed by the thick mist. He heard her wings flapping over his head and followed the sound step by step.
- . -
Suddenly, he couldn't hear the sound anymore. Immediately he stopped walking, to call after the raven. But this time he didn't even hear an echo, the place around him was silent. It felt like a repeat of when he woke up in this place earlier.
"Raven?" he tried again, in a different direction. He wanted to be brave and not letting the headless despair rise and take over. "Where are you?" There, still in control.
He stepped a little bit to his right, and he felt an odd tingling through his body as if he touched something soft. But not in touching something with his hand; it felt like he got stopped from a cloth, like a curtain, coming from the top somewhere, holding him back from something. It felt familiar. He stood there, silently, listening into the mist around him.
Then he remembered the feeling. It had felt like this when he was with his Severus in Spinner's End. Everytime, he went out of the house and on the street it had felt similar to this sensation.
This funny curtain must be a border. 'What did my Daddy call this? A ward? Am I supposed to walk through?'
Gathering his courage, he stepped one step forward – and another one, feeling the fog around himself like cotton. As if he got held back – it felt like being hugged without wanting to be embraced –
And with force he freed himself from this cotton wall to step into bright sunlight.
Soft green grasses were tickling his feet and legs, and colourful flowers bloomed everywhere. The landscape around him was filled with smooth hills, a summer blue sky, green fields with flowers, some trees, rocks in the middle of the lawn and the singing of birds. Further down the hill he was sure he saw some deer, moving slowly with heads on the ground while eating towards some trees. A humming bumble bee passed him and disappeared into the head of a pink flower. It moved back and forth, as if it wasn't sure if it could keep up with the weight of the insect. Harry had to giggle. It looked just too funny. He was sure the bumble bee was looking at him maybe even shaking its tiny head when it left the flower to move on to the next. 'If the bumble bee would have an eyebrow, would it raise it when it looks at me?' Just the thought made him laugh.
He followed the yellow-black insect with his eyes until he couldn't see it anymore. Still grinning he looked close around, only to realize that there was a rock behind him. 'Now, how can that happen? I came from a wall out of fog. That's odd. Maybe when I touch -' he turned around to touch the rock carefully as if expecting his hand to slip right through – but the wall stayed solid. The warm grey stone felt comfortable under his small hands.
A movement on his left side made him look up, but when he searched the stone, he only could see a small brown salamander with a green stripe in the middle, looking for a good place in the warm sun.
'Strange.' Shaking his head in wonder he walked a little down the hill. He had no idea where he should go. To his own surprise he felt no hunger or thirst. He was not either hot or cold, nor did he miss anything – beside his Daddy of course or the raven.
But the warmth of the summer sun made him sleepy, and when he came to the next group of small trees, he curled himself under them, in between roots, to take a nap.
- . -
Harry knew he was dreaming, as he saw pictures in his head as reading a book.
He saw how his Daddy laid him on a table, which was covered with a fluffy, soft sunny-yellow blanket. He could see the candles all around himself. What was odd, was that he could see himself as two. He could see himself as Harry on the table, but he also could see himself as someone who was watching everything.
When he saw how gentle the potions master had laid his body on the blanket, he felt his tears rise. Oh how he missed his Daddy. He wanted him to be here with him, or he Harry, be with Severus now.
"Daddy, oh my Daddy," he sobbed.
He couldn't look at all these nice flowers; he only had his eyes on his Severus, his Dad-man.
Severus looked pale and sad while sitting on a stone bench on the wall by Harry's feet, under the window. If he would lean forward and stretch his hand out, he could touch the small feet. His eyes looked dull as if he were in great pain. Harry wanted to climb on his lap and hug him close to himself – care for his Daddy.
He saw Madame Hooch briefly but heard her saying quietly: "Elderberry. It's not a good flying wood, but it is the door from the living to the dead. It will protect the little guy and heal whatever needs healing... it's the door from the living to the dead… it's the door from the living to the dead… it's the door from the living to the dead…"
Suddenly he saw Severus trembling and hurriedly leave the room. Did he just see a tear rolling down his Daddy's cheek? Was his Daddy crying?
The next thing he heared was the Medi-witch talking to an old man. Harry couldn't picture who it was, but the grandfather type of person looked familiar.
"He got poisoned. He was already sick when Severus found him. It must have been a slow working poison…" A poison? How would he get access to a poison? That's silly. Harry felt almost like laughing. How would she get on that idea?
He almost missed her next words. "…have no idea what those muggles all did to him. What I could fix, I fixed." Yeah, she did. He touched his eyes, smiling. "They had tortured the little boy, Albus. If he didn't die from a poison, he would have died by their treatment. How could you have left him there? He was so sweet…" Oh, this man was the one, who had left him there, at the Dursley's? He then realized Poppy was crying too, and he also saw the unbelievable look in the old wizards face. 'Idiot.' Harry thought pretty passionately and felt a despairing giggle rise.
Oh, he wanted his daddy close to him; feel his embrace and his voice, calling him sweetly 'Little One'… "Daddy –" Everything went black around him, but he didn't feel fear. He felt the warmth of love his Daddy and the medi-witch had had for him.
But why couldn't his Daddy be with him?
"Where are you, Daddy?"
Even if he did not see Severus, he could feel his despair.
"Daddy?" But he got no answer.
"Daddy?" he tried again, a little louder.
And wrapped in all this love, he finally screamed: "Daddy?"
- . -
As if turning a page, Harry saw his Daddy while he was outside looking at the lake. He was leaning on a tree, his arms around his body, his elbow supported by one hand, resting his chin in his other hand.
It had snowed and the white landscape reminded them of a fairy tale. If one didn't know the area, one had to guess what was placed under the hills of snow. Harry felt amazed with it. He saw the old man - Albus? - walking toward his Daddy.
Harry could see that Severus was far away with his thoughts, being occupied somewhere else. Did he not feel the cold? The little boy only had eyes for his Daddy and missed completely that the old wizard was talking to Severus.
"Yes?" He heard Severus answer and came back into the picture.
"I was looking for you." 'Urgh,' he thought and grinned. He tried to stretch the arm out, to touch his Daddy, but his hand went right through as if the picture in front of him wasn't real. Sadly, he pulled his hand back and before he would cry he followed the speaking again.
"Severus, I need you to brew a special potion for me," the old wizard just said.
'What's a special potion?' Harry was wondering why there was such an odd pronouncing on the word special.
"What potion do you have in mind?
"For the greater good there are some who we need to help move on to the next great adventure silently and undetected."
'Move on to where?' But before Harry could feel too confused, he heard his Daddy give a joyless chuckle:"A poison then. Who are you planning to kill?"
'Kill? Kill – by meaning dead?' The child tried to understand. Somebody was supposed to die…
"I'm sorry, but I don't think that is something I can tell you." Harry felt a shiver running down his spine.
Oh, yeah, right, so Albus was his name…
"My boy, the times are getting harder. We need to be ready, even if it looks sunny outside now. But dark times will come and we must be prepared. The war will not wait on us to have the right weapons… you know that, don't you?"
'A war? There was a war going on? Is that why he died?' Harry still felt confused, even more now than before. He saw his Daddy turning back to look at the lake once more and he could also see the way he was standing looking strained.
"Severus? Where are you…?"
"I have a potion to brew," the potions master answered the unfinished question and without a look back moved towards the castle, leaving Harry looking behind.
- . -
A little boy, as little as he was himself, was sneaking up to the open door and looked inside, towards him.
With a surprised look the strange boy looked at the flowers which were on dead Harry's sides, weird ones, in all colours.
Poppy sat by his side, to guard his little soul, and Harry felt very thankful towards her. The other wizard, Harry didn't know. He looked nice though, and funny. He must have been smaller than he was himself. How could such an old man be smaller than an eight-year old child?
Harry felt the giggle rise again in his throat.
But who was that boy?
Was the boy waiting for someone?
Harry watched him closer. He had dark hair and brown eyes. He must be his age as he was about his size too. He followed the other boy as he moved back into the hallway. Watching him, he also felt very surprised, when their eyes fell on a cat that suddenly appeared around the corner.
"Oh," the strange boy said, "Hello Kitty, or are you a Kneazle?"
'A Kneazle – like my Professor…?'
The cat just stood there as if it would be frozen. Both boy's were watching it as close as the cat was watching the other boy. Neither moving a bit. Would the cat be aware of him, Harry?
Then, suddenly the cat went with a long "Miouuu" in Harry's direction and jumped around the corner, back from where it came from.
Even before the other boy could turn to the painting, they heard voices and two women came down the stairs. Both ladies were giving the strange boy a so irresolute smile that Harry had to laugh.
Saying good-bye right there, one of the women went toward Harry's room. The other one laid her hand on the boys shoulder and walked him out the entrance door.
Harry smiled. He liked the other boy.
- . -
On the next morning, the headmaster was sitting on the guardian chair next to Harry's dead body, when Severus came in. Harry had sat on the stone bench, watching Albus sleep in the guardian chair. Just before his Daddy came in, Albus had awakened.
"Good morning, Severus." The Headmaster said. "How are you today, my boy?"
Harry thought that was funny. 'Why does Albus call my Daddy 'my boy'? Is he my grandfather? But why doesn't Daddy call him Dad or so?'
But his Daddy was just growling at the other wizard, while reaching into his pocket and taking out a vile with a very, very dark almost black looking red liquid in it. Swirling the liquid around once to set the potion in motion, giving the liquid a metallic glitter which made it look poisonous. He dropped the vial into Albus outstretched hand, who kept smiling at him.
'Wow, what an odd colour…'
"You know, there is hope in this world. You must never give up hope." With these words, the older wizard placed the small vial in his own pocket and got up from the chair. "Excuse me a moment." He left the room without waiting for an answer from the Potions Professor.
Severus first stood there doing nothing. Harry was glad, that the old man had left. Finally, after waiting so long, he was alone with his Daddy. He wished he could just cuddle up with him…
The room was still fairly dark; the sun had not yet risen. The nine candles around dead Harry were still burning and gave the room a cosy impression. Looking finally at the body on the table, Severus was looking at the flowers. There were many more flowers now than there had been on the previous night.
'Are those flowers special, Daddy?'
Severus used the time to check them a little more closely.
'They must be. Can you get me back home to you, Daddy?'
Severus sat himself on the chair that Albus had just abandoned.
"Good morning, Harry."
Standing up from the bench, the little boy walked over to stand next to his Daddy and his body.
After looking around carefully, his Daddy whispered: "Good morning Harry Snape." And he smiled a sad smile at the little boy in front of him, caressing his lifeless arm.
Harry's face lit up with a smile. Harry Snape – he was his Daddy's son!
Complete happy, he replied: 'Good Morning, Daddy.'
He wanted to lean on his Daddy, hug him – but he knew he would fall through. So he was just standing next to him, admiring his closeness, without him knowing he was there.
It started to get lighter outside when a woman came in. Severus rose immediately to give over the guardian chair.
'No, don't leave yet. It's too soon… Please stay with me. Daddy…'
Smiling at his Daddy, the other teacher took the chair and Severus left the little room.
- . -
Sitting on the stone bench again, he looked up when he saw the almost invisible figure hiding in the shadows.
'Oh, there is Sir Frederick. How nice of him to come and see me. I wonder if he can see me.' But when he stood and moved closer to the ghost, he realized that even Sir Frederick could nor feel or see him.
Before he could be sad about that he got distracted by seeing the other boy again, that he had seen the day before. He came into his room, together with the professor and the older lady. The women sat down and were talking silently, while Harry watched the other boy.
He placed himself on the edge of the visitor's chair, next to Harry's dead body. The brown haired boy looked uncomfortable in these black clothes he was wearing.
The boy seemed sad and Harry wished he could do something to cheer the strange boy up. He knew they would have been good friends, if they had met earlier.
"Will you say hello to my mummy and daddy for me?" the boy whispered into Harry's direction while wringing his hands.
'Why? Can't you do that yourself?' Harry felt taken aback. Why would this strange boy ask something like that of him?
"They have left this world, you know – this morning." The boy looked away, down at his feet, which were clothed in black leather shoes, hiding a sob.
"Not that I miss them much – I haven't known them, but they were still my mummy and daddy…" A tear found its way down his cheek. And another one. And then he was sitting there crying silently. Slowly, he moved forward and laid his head on the soft yellow blanket, next to Harry's arm.
'I'm sorry, little boy, I'm sorry.' Harry also felt tears tickle in his eyes. Oh, how he just wished he could hold this boy, be there for him, be his friend.
The strange boy calmed soon, pushing his arms under his chin and looked up at the still form of the dead boy.
Harry also calmed down, feeling suddenly so close to this boy. He felt an odd pull in his heart, as the living boy was staring into the dead face. Harry moved closer, on the other side across from the boy and leaned over his dead body and look into the boy's face, to be real close to him. With extreme gentleness, the strange boy caressed dead Harry's hands with his fingers. He looked as if he'd be far away.
'Are you with me? Are we playing catch? Will we sit in the green room and play, like my mommy and daddy did when they were little? Are we watching the purple martin fly? Will we race boats in the stream?' Just the thought of sharing this all with this little boy made him laugh happily.
Suddenly, he felt like as if the boy was here with him, where he was. It was just a second, like a flash, he saw the other boy looking at him. At him, not dead Harry, him.
He could see the boy leaning in, closer to the still form.
'Here, I'm here!' But the boy didn't look again.
Instead, the other boy was looking at his chest. 'Why is he staring at my chest?' Harry wondered.
When the boy reached over to look under dead Harry's shirt they both discover a round, sun shaped amulet on the dead body. The green stone, which was placed in the middle, gave out a mysterious dull green glow.
'My Daddy's amulet – it's glowing.' Surprised, Harry looked down on himself, only to discover that the stone was glowing too. But it didn't give him a bad feeling. Actually it was more the opposite. He felt safe.
The other boy let go of Harry and jumped off the chair. "Gran." He didn't take his sight off of the dead boy. But when he received no answer from his grandmother or the Professor, he slowly turned his gaze to look away from the dead body, towards the grown ups.
They were still sitting on the stone bench; Minerva had her arm around the older lady while they were talking.
"Gran?" Neville called out, but he only got a stern look from Minerva, for interrupting. "But there is something glowing on Harry's chest. It's a green light…"
'My amulet is glowing…'
"Neville," the lady named Gran interrupted. "Please, not now."
'Hello, my amulet is glowing...! What does that mean?'
"Neville. Please." Gran spoke with a whiney voice. The other boy's mouth snapped closed.
'Neville. Nice to meet you.'
"Yes." Sir Frederick! Yes, he would know what it means, wouldn't he? Where did he come from? Sir Frederick was so close to Harry, he could almost touch him. But Sir Frederick did not see him.
"Yes?" Neville repeated with a surprised voice and looked around as to see where this voice had come from.
Neville jumped backwards a little, the ghost must have scared him. The ghostly creature held up one hand as to stop Neville from shouting or running, facing him and smiled. "Oh, don't be afraid," his smile grew wider and his ghostly eyes were sparkling. "You have noticed the green light, have you?" The small man pulled his hand back down, nodding to himself. "Yes, you have."
Nodding, Harry replied to the question. 'Yes, I have. And it feels good.'
"Why… why is it…?"
"Glowing?" The ghost ended the unfinished question.
'Yeah, why is it?'
Neville nodded again and stopped abruptly. The ghost leaned closely to the boy as if he had to hide the secret, which he was going to give on to Neville now. Harry drew closer to hear it too.
"That's because Harry is still alive," he whispered, Neville had to lean closer so as not to miss a word.
'I am?' Harry felt stunned.
"Alive!" Neville repeated, hearing his surprise in his voice.
"Shhhh," the ghost held up his hands. "Not so loud. They-" he made a circling gesture with his hand
"-believe he's dead already. But he could be saved."
Harry leaned closer – 'Saved – I could come back?'
"Saved?" Neville was shaking his head. "How?"
The ghost picked himself up again to stand straight. "Come with me outside, I'll tell you," he whispered.
'Outside? How far outside are you talking? I don't know if I can leave my room very far…' Harry started to feel uncomfortable for some strange reason.
"But…" Neville looked into the direction of the two women. But he didn't need to worry. The older lady's were still talking silently, not paying any attention to the little boy.
"OK." The small boy got up from the chair and walked out the door silently for not disturbing the two women, followed closely by the ghostly figure.
'No,' but Harry had the strong urge to follow too.
- . -
Outside Sir Frederick took over the lead into a dark alcove almost across Harry's room, a little to the left.
Harry was relieved that it wasn't too far away.
Neville sat himself on the stony corner piece that was built into the wall, looking at the ghost expectant, while Harry was leaning on the wall next to Neville, crossing his arms.
Leaning closer to Neville again, the ghost was telling him the story how he had met Harry and through an accident, he died. Almost, anyway. "But you could save him," the ghost finished his story.
'An accident? I died from an accident? What accident? I don't remember having one.' Harry felt confused. Something here was not right.
"How could I save someone? I'm not a good wizard." Neville sounded as getting depressed. Harry could understand him very well.
Sir Frederick nodded seriously. "But you don't have to be a great wizard for this. There is a flower. If young Harry has one leaf in his mouth, he will come back to life. You just need to get the flower and give it to him."
'Really? But I thought – my Daddy has the flower.'
The other boy looked at the ghost in awe. "I?"
"Yes," the ghost nodded in confidence. "You."
Harry was watching them.
"But how? I'm not a pupil of this school, I don't know my way around, and where would I find this flower? Does it grow in the greenhouses?"
Sir Frederick hat to suppress a laugh. "No. No greenhouse. A teacher found it and took it away. You need to get it back and save Harry's life. But this must stay a secret until you have given him the leaf. Just think, you tell everyone and then you can't find the flower. And the professor who took the flower is bad, he wants Harry dead."
That scared Harry. Who wanted him dead? 'But my Daddy has the flower… and he didn't find it – I told him where it was…'
"But then… this is dangerous. What if this professor finds me?"
'What professor? Daddy? My Daddy?'
Tipping his head onto one side, the ghost nodded at Neville. "I don't think he'll discover you, if you are careful. Surely, I could find someone else to help Harry." Stepping out a little of the alcove and looking down the hallway, he added, "Just think how proud your grandmother would be if you succeed…"
"All right, I'll do it. Just tell me where I have to go."
Something was wrong here. Harry could feel it now. Sir Frederick had said his Daddy would want him dead – but that wasn't true, he knew that. His Daddy loved him, he wanted Harry back. Sir Frederick was mistaken. He was… he was… was lieing to Neville.
Tears were spilling down his cheeks now. With a shocked cry he woke up, stumbling onto his feet in between the many roots of the group of trees in the middle of the green fields where he had been napping. The landscape around him was filled with smooth hills, a summer blue sky, and green fields with flowers blooming everywhere, some trees, rocks in the middle of the lawn and the singing of birds. Further down the hill he was sure he saw some deer, moving slowly with heads on the ground while eating, towards some trees on this beautiful warm summer day.
Hasn't he seen this just before he had fallen asleep?
Looking up, he was staring into small, star shaped, white blossoms of the Elderberry trees around him.