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fandomweekly2025-03-31 04:43 pm
yoshishisha) wrote in fandomweekly2025-03-31 04:43 pm
Entry tags:
[#254] Against the Wall (Harry Potter)
Theme Prompt: #254 - Unexpected Success
Title: Against the Wall
Fandom: Harry Potter
Bonus: No
Word Count: 847
Summary: Harry hasn't found his place since he came back wrong. The pull he can feel coming from the other side of that odd wall is helping with that though. Even though he'll never reach it
The wall was comforting somehow, just as much as it was distressing. Harry had been visiting it for ages by now, lured pulled in by the constant pull at the edge of his consciousness. There was something important on that other side, Harry knew, but for once he felt no rush about getting to it.
Another consequence of death, he supposed. He’d obviously come back wrong, both in body and in mind for all that no test could prove it. Harry knew himself though, and knew his mind was changing, for all that he couldn’t stop it from doing so.
And yet, even though the pull should have brought to mind memories of Voldemort and the Horcruxes, it only brought a faint sense of curiosity and wonder.
So Harry walked, on the unequal paved road, bare feet walking over the grooves and leaving no trace, while his bare fingers trailed over the dusty wall without a care. He was heading somewhere, he thought, tilting his head to look further, long hair covering one eye as he felt the edge of his lips quirk in a faint smile. He was heading nowhere.
He couldn’t see anything of course. The path was perfectly lit, an aimless source of light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. But it was curved, path between the two walls like a labyrinth, and one he could only seem to get into and out of through apparition. He didn’t know where he was going, had started to doubt whether he’d simply been walking in circles to no end, with nothing and no one but the feeling of the pull for company.
He stopped, finally pulled out of his peaceful musings by the reality of the sensations under his finger.
He swiped at the dusty wall, feeling the grime under his fingers, the grooves in the wall, the absence of anything in the air. He rubbed his fingers against his thumb, feeling nothing. He looked at the wall, where his fingers should have left a trail, a trace. Nothing.
This place was out of space, out of time, and it filled Harry with a sense of adventure he hadn’t felt since before his death. A little playground, just for him.
He loved it.
The pull didn’t change either, no matter when he came. The nature of it, the strength of it, the awareness of it. Harry had grown so used to its presence that he had also started noticing it when he was outside of that liminal space, back in the regular plane he was born in. It wasn’t a presence in the back of his mind; rather an awareness of a place he could return to. That wall had become his bedrock, his safe place when he found himself lost with the new changes he was living through and needed to know something would remain constant and wouldn’t change around him.
It was another one of these crises of identity that brought him to the wall again. There he could lose himself, knowing that no matter how long he stayed, he would come back to his plane at the right moment. He leaned back against the wall, turning his head this way and that as his hair scraped against the wall. Knowing that his presence was of no importance and that nothing he did would affect this space was relieving him of these unspoken expectations he would always be privy to.
A breath, two. A shout, a sigh. And Harry was up on his feet again, grounding himself with the grime of the wall under his fingers, the dirt and twigs on the pavement grinding on the underside of his feet without catching up in the grooves of it.
Until there was nothing under his fingers.
Harry didn’t look right away, letting his fingers squirm and hover and wiggle over the empty air like the wall would reappear under his hand if he waited. Like it was an illusion, a mistake. Harry felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the perspective of his peace being broken, yet the worry and panic he knew should have been there wouldn’t reach his brain and he felt eerily calm.
He turned on his feet, slowly, aligning his body with his still extended hand to see with his eyes what he’d observed with his fingers.
There was an opening in the wall. Door shaped, person-sized. Like it had been there all along, waiting for him.
Harry had looked for a breach in the wall in the beginning. A way to get to the other side and see what was pulling him in. He’d forgotten about it with time, the wall a goal in itself rather than what could have laid beyond it.
And now that he’d succeeded in finding that opening, he didn’t know what to do with the unexpected success. He thought that for all that his mind remained forcefully calm, what the rest of his was feeling seemed a lot like dread.
Title: Against the Wall
Fandom: Harry Potter
Bonus: No
Word Count: 847
Summary: Harry hasn't found his place since he came back wrong. The pull he can feel coming from the other side of that odd wall is helping with that though. Even though he'll never reach it
The wall was comforting somehow, just as much as it was distressing. Harry had been visiting it for ages by now, lured pulled in by the constant pull at the edge of his consciousness. There was something important on that other side, Harry knew, but for once he felt no rush about getting to it.
Another consequence of death, he supposed. He’d obviously come back wrong, both in body and in mind for all that no test could prove it. Harry knew himself though, and knew his mind was changing, for all that he couldn’t stop it from doing so.
And yet, even though the pull should have brought to mind memories of Voldemort and the Horcruxes, it only brought a faint sense of curiosity and wonder.
So Harry walked, on the unequal paved road, bare feet walking over the grooves and leaving no trace, while his bare fingers trailed over the dusty wall without a care. He was heading somewhere, he thought, tilting his head to look further, long hair covering one eye as he felt the edge of his lips quirk in a faint smile. He was heading nowhere.
He couldn’t see anything of course. The path was perfectly lit, an aimless source of light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. But it was curved, path between the two walls like a labyrinth, and one he could only seem to get into and out of through apparition. He didn’t know where he was going, had started to doubt whether he’d simply been walking in circles to no end, with nothing and no one but the feeling of the pull for company.
He stopped, finally pulled out of his peaceful musings by the reality of the sensations under his finger.
He swiped at the dusty wall, feeling the grime under his fingers, the grooves in the wall, the absence of anything in the air. He rubbed his fingers against his thumb, feeling nothing. He looked at the wall, where his fingers should have left a trail, a trace. Nothing.
This place was out of space, out of time, and it filled Harry with a sense of adventure he hadn’t felt since before his death. A little playground, just for him.
He loved it.
The pull didn’t change either, no matter when he came. The nature of it, the strength of it, the awareness of it. Harry had grown so used to its presence that he had also started noticing it when he was outside of that liminal space, back in the regular plane he was born in. It wasn’t a presence in the back of his mind; rather an awareness of a place he could return to. That wall had become his bedrock, his safe place when he found himself lost with the new changes he was living through and needed to know something would remain constant and wouldn’t change around him.
It was another one of these crises of identity that brought him to the wall again. There he could lose himself, knowing that no matter how long he stayed, he would come back to his plane at the right moment. He leaned back against the wall, turning his head this way and that as his hair scraped against the wall. Knowing that his presence was of no importance and that nothing he did would affect this space was relieving him of these unspoken expectations he would always be privy to.
A breath, two. A shout, a sigh. And Harry was up on his feet again, grounding himself with the grime of the wall under his fingers, the dirt and twigs on the pavement grinding on the underside of his feet without catching up in the grooves of it.
Until there was nothing under his fingers.
Harry didn’t look right away, letting his fingers squirm and hover and wiggle over the empty air like the wall would reappear under his hand if he waited. Like it was an illusion, a mistake. Harry felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the perspective of his peace being broken, yet the worry and panic he knew should have been there wouldn’t reach his brain and he felt eerily calm.
He turned on his feet, slowly, aligning his body with his still extended hand to see with his eyes what he’d observed with his fingers.
There was an opening in the wall. Door shaped, person-sized. Like it had been there all along, waiting for him.
Harry had looked for a breach in the wall in the beginning. A way to get to the other side and see what was pulling him in. He’d forgotten about it with time, the wall a goal in itself rather than what could have laid beyond it.
And now that he’d succeeded in finding that opening, he didn’t know what to do with the unexpected success. He thought that for all that his mind remained forcefully calm, what the rest of his was feeling seemed a lot like dread.
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He will! Into a stealth crossover if I figure out how to work this story right
Le mar. 1 avr. 2025 à 05:28, badly_knitted - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> a écrit :
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