follow black twenty-one find shining parents
Age 14 / 1176 words
It had been an accident really. Both the trip to Cairo in the first place -- if one considered messing around with a magic portal an accident -- and being struck by the curse, however intended its casting had been. A bright flash of light and then darkness, sinking down into it like it was the water all around him and then--
And then.
Dennis had never really thought about death, so it's not like he had any expectations, except some vague churchy stuff about heaven but, frankly, he'd never managed to actually listen to an entire sermon from beginning to end, which was why they always took the pew in the back. He liked the singing though. And Colin had a really good singing voice. Which actually had nothing to do with the current situation, so he looked around.
It was black like ... like ... like a very, very, very, very, very black thing. It was so black the black of his robes looked an odd sort of grey, which was weird because he was pretty sure he hadn't been wearing robes before and, anyway, the robes he did have weren't plain black, they had red and gold trim for Gryffindor on them which had appeared as soon as he'd been sorted.
Also, Albus Dumbledore was standing right there.
"Hello," said Dennis.
"Hello," said Albus, eyes twinkling.
"Are we dead, then?" asked Dennis.
"I wouldn't say that," said Albus. He rummaged around in his robe and then pulled out a paper bag. "Jelly baby?"
"I don't like jelly, and don't call me baby," said Dennis, then frowned and scratched his head. "I have no idea why I said that!"
"We're in the arena of sub-subconscious," Albus said, "down in depths of memory and instinct, where all minds are part of a greater, darker whole."
"Oh," said Dennis.
"We call it the Black Road," said Albus.
"'cause it's so black!"
"Pretty much," Albus agreed. "Not really into inventive names back in the day. I had to argue for years before they'd name it Higgins' Old Peculiar and not Beer Made From Wheat And Dog Pee."
"Am I supposed to walk into a light?" asked Dennis. "Or not walk into a light, or something? And what's with the bells?"
"They toll for thee," Albus said.
"Really?" asked Dennis.
"Maybe." Albus shrugged. "It's all a bit ineffable, really. I've never bothered with it, myself. Walk around a bit if you want, your body isn't going anywhere."
"I'm not in my body? Cool! Am I ghost? I bet it's really fun being a ghost! You can walk through walls and float and everything! But you don't get to eat chocolate which I wouldn't like so much because I really like chocolate frogs provided you eat them when they're hopping and not when they've stopped so you get the best flavour and it wouldn't be much fun to watch other people eating them all sweet and hopping like that and not be able to even taste them myself because all I could do was float through them and I don't think you'd get much taste from that although I suppose you'd be able to smell them which would be good except maybe it would make not being able to actually eat them all that worse."
"I see you've taken advantage of losing the need to breathe."
"Huh?"
"Oh." Albus looked vaguely impressed. "You're not exactly a ghost. You're just you. But... displaced. It really is best just not to think about it too hard."
"Okay!" said Dennis. "I'm gonna go see what's up this path!"
He followed it under a sign reading "BLACK 21" which made Dennis think of Roulette wheels and James Bond movies and how Sean Connery was the best and spoke English in a Scottish accent but not as Scottish as McGonnagall who was a cat who could see in the dark which would be great because he was in the dark and he couldn't see anything much. Except a sort of glimmering up ahead, so he went that way.
"Oh," he said.
"Hello, Dennis," said Alice, smiling sheepishly at him and fiddling with her hair.
"Um," said Dennis. "So you're, like, dead, then?"
"Not exactly," said Alice.
"Are you a figment of my imagination, conjured up by the trauma of dying, possibly?" asked Dennis.
"Not exactly," said Alice. "It's all a bit complicated."
"Oh," said Dennis again.
There was an awkward silence.
"Hello, mum," he added. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you, Dennis. And yourself?"
"I think I might be dead," said Dennis, "only I'm not entirely sure."
"Black 21 isn't the road of the dead," Alice said. "It's the road of Between. You're not so much having an out of body experience as in mind one, temporarily plumbing the depths of the global unconscious."
"How do you know all this, mum?" asked Dennis. "I mean, no offence, but you're a Muggle and I think this is a wizarding thing, because Albus Dumbledore was just down the road." Alice flinched slightly at the name of Albus, but Dennis was still talking. "And, anyway, you left me and Colin and Dad when I was really little and no-one ever explained why and you never came back and I think it's a bit unfair to bump into you here when I'm all confused about being dead or not and everything's black in the actual colour sense, not a race sense, and it's kinda starting to creep me out a little because I think I might be stuck here and maybe forever and it's not really the nicest of places to be."
"No," said Alice, "it's not. But it's okay, Dennis. You won't have to stay. They've noticed you're not entirely dead and are doing extraordinary things to bring you back. I only get to see you for a few more seconds." She smiled weakly, tears in her eyes. "Oh, my baby. How you've grown! I wish I'd been there."
"You could have been," Dennis complained. "Why did you leave? Why couldn't you stay? You made Dad sad for ages and ages and ages and Colin is completely convinced you're an angel or something and are just going to come back one day and I have no idea, I barely even remember you at all and-- no, wait! Wait! I wasn't done! I wasn't--"
But Black 21 had been called in and Dennis was rushing, rushing, rushing up the road, up through the waters, up through Albus Dumbledore who smiled and twinkled and faded around him and suddenly there was a light up ahead, shining, round and pale with dark splotches that came together to make eyes and a nose and a face and then.
It was his father, leant against the hospital bed, holding his hand. Slowly smiling.
"Hello, son."
"Hello." Dennis blinked at him. Then he blinked at Colin, who was on the bed with him. Then he blinked at his father again. He cleared his throat. "Why's ev'ryone sleepin' in my bed?"
"Oh, Dennis!"
Hugs made everything better.
It had been an accident really. Both the trip to Cairo in the first place -- if one considered messing around with a magic portal an accident -- and being struck by the curse, however intended its casting had been. A bright flash of light and then darkness, sinking down into it like it was the water all around him and then--
And then.
Dennis had never really thought about death, so it's not like he had any expectations, except some vague churchy stuff about heaven but, frankly, he'd never managed to actually listen to an entire sermon from beginning to end, which was why they always took the pew in the back. He liked the singing though. And Colin had a really good singing voice. Which actually had nothing to do with the current situation, so he looked around.
It was black like ... like ... like a very, very, very, very, very black thing. It was so black the black of his robes looked an odd sort of grey, which was weird because he was pretty sure he hadn't been wearing robes before and, anyway, the robes he did have weren't plain black, they had red and gold trim for Gryffindor on them which had appeared as soon as he'd been sorted.
Also, Albus Dumbledore was standing right there.
"Hello," said Dennis.
"Hello," said Albus, eyes twinkling.
"Are we dead, then?" asked Dennis.
"I wouldn't say that," said Albus. He rummaged around in his robe and then pulled out a paper bag. "Jelly baby?"
"I don't like jelly, and don't call me baby," said Dennis, then frowned and scratched his head. "I have no idea why I said that!"
"We're in the arena of sub-subconscious," Albus said, "down in depths of memory and instinct, where all minds are part of a greater, darker whole."
"Oh," said Dennis.
"We call it the Black Road," said Albus.
"'cause it's so black!"
"Pretty much," Albus agreed. "Not really into inventive names back in the day. I had to argue for years before they'd name it Higgins' Old Peculiar and not Beer Made From Wheat And Dog Pee."
"Am I supposed to walk into a light?" asked Dennis. "Or not walk into a light, or something? And what's with the bells?"
"They toll for thee," Albus said.
"Really?" asked Dennis.
"Maybe." Albus shrugged. "It's all a bit ineffable, really. I've never bothered with it, myself. Walk around a bit if you want, your body isn't going anywhere."
"I'm not in my body? Cool! Am I ghost? I bet it's really fun being a ghost! You can walk through walls and float and everything! But you don't get to eat chocolate which I wouldn't like so much because I really like chocolate frogs provided you eat them when they're hopping and not when they've stopped so you get the best flavour and it wouldn't be much fun to watch other people eating them all sweet and hopping like that and not be able to even taste them myself because all I could do was float through them and I don't think you'd get much taste from that although I suppose you'd be able to smell them which would be good except maybe it would make not being able to actually eat them all that worse."
"I see you've taken advantage of losing the need to breathe."
"Huh?"
"Oh." Albus looked vaguely impressed. "You're not exactly a ghost. You're just you. But... displaced. It really is best just not to think about it too hard."
"Okay!" said Dennis. "I'm gonna go see what's up this path!"
He followed it under a sign reading "BLACK 21" which made Dennis think of Roulette wheels and James Bond movies and how Sean Connery was the best and spoke English in a Scottish accent but not as Scottish as McGonnagall who was a cat who could see in the dark which would be great because he was in the dark and he couldn't see anything much. Except a sort of glimmering up ahead, so he went that way.
"Oh," he said.
"Hello, Dennis," said Alice, smiling sheepishly at him and fiddling with her hair.
"Um," said Dennis. "So you're, like, dead, then?"
"Not exactly," said Alice.
"Are you a figment of my imagination, conjured up by the trauma of dying, possibly?" asked Dennis.
"Not exactly," said Alice. "It's all a bit complicated."
"Oh," said Dennis again.
There was an awkward silence.
"Hello, mum," he added. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you, Dennis. And yourself?"
"I think I might be dead," said Dennis, "only I'm not entirely sure."
"Black 21 isn't the road of the dead," Alice said. "It's the road of Between. You're not so much having an out of body experience as in mind one, temporarily plumbing the depths of the global unconscious."
"How do you know all this, mum?" asked Dennis. "I mean, no offence, but you're a Muggle and I think this is a wizarding thing, because Albus Dumbledore was just down the road." Alice flinched slightly at the name of Albus, but Dennis was still talking. "And, anyway, you left me and Colin and Dad when I was really little and no-one ever explained why and you never came back and I think it's a bit unfair to bump into you here when I'm all confused about being dead or not and everything's black in the actual colour sense, not a race sense, and it's kinda starting to creep me out a little because I think I might be stuck here and maybe forever and it's not really the nicest of places to be."
"No," said Alice, "it's not. But it's okay, Dennis. You won't have to stay. They've noticed you're not entirely dead and are doing extraordinary things to bring you back. I only get to see you for a few more seconds." She smiled weakly, tears in her eyes. "Oh, my baby. How you've grown! I wish I'd been there."
"You could have been," Dennis complained. "Why did you leave? Why couldn't you stay? You made Dad sad for ages and ages and ages and Colin is completely convinced you're an angel or something and are just going to come back one day and I have no idea, I barely even remember you at all and-- no, wait! Wait! I wasn't done! I wasn't--"
But Black 21 had been called in and Dennis was rushing, rushing, rushing up the road, up through the waters, up through Albus Dumbledore who smiled and twinkled and faded around him and suddenly there was a light up ahead, shining, round and pale with dark splotches that came together to make eyes and a nose and a face and then.
It was his father, leant against the hospital bed, holding his hand. Slowly smiling.
"Hello, son."
"Hello." Dennis blinked at him. Then he blinked at Colin, who was on the bed with him. Then he blinked at his father again. He cleared his throat. "Why's ev'ryone sleepin' in my bed?"
"Oh, Dennis!"
Hugs made everything better.