Disclaimer: blood, mentions/actions of suicide, dark descriptions/themes, trauma
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We both wake, in lonely beds
· ━━━━ · ✣ · ━━━━ ·
AUGUST 10TH, 1998
Darkness surrounded her. She was back at Hogwarts, the familiar hallways eerier than she remembered. The place she once called home frightened her as her feet manually shuffled forward. They moved at a steady pace, not slowing or speeding.
Just moving.
All of the portraits were empty; the murals had been clawed out with deep tears into the papers. Blood dripped onto the ground from the paintings, the droplets louder than they should've been.
The redness increased as she progressed down the corridor, stained handprints against the walls. Horrific messages were written with the blood, scrawled over the floors, walls, and ceilings. She couldn't make out the words, but it was a gut feeling that they were not light.
It was silent, not a soul could be heard. Even her footsteps seemed muted as they made contact with the floor, each step feeling like knives digging in the underside of her foot.
Every movement felt stiff, burdened. The air around her was extremely thin, unable to take in. Yet, she kept moving.
There were no windows in the locations they should've been in. Instead, the stone walls stared back at her challengingly, scarlet from the blood that painted onto its surface.
No fire lit from the torches, they hung there lifelessly as if to show a foreshadow. The absence of the typical warm light made the halls seem uninhabited for decades; the soot that danced below her feet was another reasoning for this.
She finally reached the end of the corridor, greeted with a set of staircases. This seemed wrong. Each elevated step was more spectrally than the first, disappearing into the advancing shadows. Her knee bent, her foot placed on the higher platform.
Her other knee bent, her other foot placed on the next highest platform. This process repeated itself for an endless amount of time, the ascending stairs curving around a large pole that was fixed into the middle.
The murkiness of her surroundings seemed to intensify as she gained more height, the air quality weakening from up above.
Her nose caught the copper scent of blood, which overtook the usual oxygen. She didn't want to see what was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, yet her knees curved, feet placing on the higher notches.
Her hands were located onto the railings besides, expecting to feel the smooth, cool metal against her palms. It was rough and patchy however, she could tell it was wood because of the splinters that filled her skin, leaving behind trails of red stains as she passed.
