C
citizenanon
Guest
Ever wonder what it was like to be stretched into a single line of atoms before being compressed into a single point of existence before being forcibly vomited back into reality ten feet above a hard cobblestone alley in the middle of the magical district of England?
Sirius black never wondered it, but he knew what it felt like.
The man groaned to himself as he slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the blindness that always accompanied staring into the sun. His mind raced to figure out what happened. The fight. The Ministry. Bellatrix. The cold hands of death circling his being.
"So this is hell, is it?" Sirius muttered to himself and made to stand. He stumbled a few times before he managed to right himself. "Not such a hot place after all." He stood straight. His body screamed in protest, but he was able to will himself forward. As he neared the end of the alley, the familiar sounds of happy, excited people grew louder and louder. Diagon Alley. It was Diagon Alley, complete, whole, and unbroken.
"You alright, there?" A passerby called out. The man wore a crimson robe. An Auror.
Sirius swallowed roughly, why was he not being arrested?
"Sir, are you alright? You look like you've slept the night away with a bottle of firewhiskey. Might be a good time to head on home and give it a rest." The Auror suggested.
Sirius could only nod. "I'll... I'll do that."
It was surreal. He moved through the alley unnoticed, ignored by everyone. A spare paper, one that had been carelessly thrown away caught his eye and he picked it up carefully from the ground. Had anyone been watching, they would have noted the pale many going a more ghostly white, his eyes widening comically, and the pulse along his neck becoming more pronounced as something he read in the paper caught his attention.
The date of the paper read, "1 September, 1971"
He would have stared at the paper had the scream of pain not brought him out of his deep logic loop. His head jerked up as did his wand as several black cloaked figures appeared in the middle of the alley.
Sirius black never wondered it, but he knew what it felt like.
The man groaned to himself as he slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the blindness that always accompanied staring into the sun. His mind raced to figure out what happened. The fight. The Ministry. Bellatrix. The cold hands of death circling his being.
"So this is hell, is it?" Sirius muttered to himself and made to stand. He stumbled a few times before he managed to right himself. "Not such a hot place after all." He stood straight. His body screamed in protest, but he was able to will himself forward. As he neared the end of the alley, the familiar sounds of happy, excited people grew louder and louder. Diagon Alley. It was Diagon Alley, complete, whole, and unbroken.
"You alright, there?" A passerby called out. The man wore a crimson robe. An Auror.
Sirius swallowed roughly, why was he not being arrested?
"Sir, are you alright? You look like you've slept the night away with a bottle of firewhiskey. Might be a good time to head on home and give it a rest." The Auror suggested.
Sirius could only nod. "I'll... I'll do that."
It was surreal. He moved through the alley unnoticed, ignored by everyone. A spare paper, one that had been carelessly thrown away caught his eye and he picked it up carefully from the ground. Had anyone been watching, they would have noted the pale many going a more ghostly white, his eyes widening comically, and the pulse along his neck becoming more pronounced as something he read in the paper caught his attention.
The date of the paper read, "1 September, 1971"
He would have stared at the paper had the scream of pain not brought him out of his deep logic loop. His head jerked up as did his wand as several black cloaked figures appeared in the middle of the alley.