Harry Potter + Alice in Wonderland?
Nov. 4th, 2011 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indiana_jSo, I really don't know where this is going ...
For an insane asylum - for that, really, is what the Janus Thickey Ward is - it is surprisingly quiet, even when one is walking the halls that separate the permanent residents from one another. Perhaps a few subtle Muffliato's have been sprinkled around after the evening visitation hours had ended but there's something more. It's not the quiet of the War, those hours spent trying not to be noticed by Voldemort supports, but more like ... they're all simply waiting for something.
The Healers certainly never notice the silence (or more like the significance of it; some of their patients are more easily excitable than others, so they are not going to question their good fortune) but, more importantly, they never even notice the stranger in their midst.
There are, however, a number of reasons they <i>should</i> notice him and pay him the strictest of attention.
For starters, the first offense is that this is his first time here and he has not signed in with the Welcome Witch. She would be very put out indeed if she were to actually notice him - all guests, especially those for any in the Janus Thickey Ward, must sign in.
Even worse, visiting hours were over ages ago.
But yet, here he is, standing still in the middle of a fairly busy hallway, listening to the patients listen to the silence.
The second issue with him is that he resembles a wizard as much as a muggle normally does. No robe hang over his shoulders and he has never even been inside a wand shop before. There is no magic to speak of in him and yet.
And yet there is a kind of wildness to his person that is somehow like and yet unlike any magic any wizard or witch has ever seen. This makes him unique.
And potentially dangerous.
The third issue is the greatest, however, and renders the first two merely annoyances.
He's not supposed to exist.
*
The mystery man walks down the corridor with his hands in his pockets and the dwindling number of Medi-Witches react to him only by subconsciously twitching out of his way to avoid a collision they're not even aware of.
Sometimes, when his mind grows bored with his pace and skims ahead, he loses concentration and sinks - just slightly - into in floor. Sometimes even as far as up to his ankles. He never gets stuck and will eventually ghost his way back to where his feet should properly be but he doesn't seem as worried about the issues as others might be.
He pauses at every door he passes to peer at the shimmering name plates on the front of them. Pause, read, move on. There are more empty rooms than full ones in this ward but it is fuller than it was; even ten years on, the effects from the war still ripple and stretch across all facets of life.
(There's a brief stop at the door so he can give Lockhart a once over after he sticks his head through both the physical door and the magical ward that layer over it. Lockhart gazes back and, for a moment, his gaze is sharp and alert but this quickly gives way to the general confusion he lives under. He waves and the mystery man pretends to doff his hat in return.)
He finally stills near the end of the hall where the last two room quietly reside. Standing between them, he crouches and holds his left hand out and close to the floor.
A small white mouse almost instantly squeezes out from under the door to his right. Across the floor and up into the palm of his hand, where it, of all things, sits up quite like a small dog.
He rises from his crouch and allows the little creature to scurry up his arm until it settles on his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" he asks after a moment. There is no actual response from the mouse but he nods to something in his head. "I believe you, old friend, but I think I shall see for myself. Hold on tight and keep away from the hat - I would hate to have to tell your mother, again, of the death of one of her children."
With the mouse clutching at his coat, he walks into the room to the right much like he had done with Lockhart's - just ducks his head and he's in. Simple as that.
It is three in the morning but the woman in the room is awake. She's trying to tear up the bedding but she's awake.
He doesn't say anything for a while and seems content to stay there and watch. This woman is nothing like the woman he knew and despite having prepared himself, he's still disappointed.
"Wherever have you gone, Alice?" he asks but Alice Longbottom pays him not a second of her attention. "You're so very badly needed, you see, for everything has gone wrong. If you cannot answer our riddles, then who will?"
His head tilts towards his smaller companion who apparently has a lot to say on the matter.
"You want me to seek out who?" He frowns and considers. "She's no Alice ... but perhaps we need a Not Alice this time."
Before he leaves, he stands behind Alice and leans over to whisper "Wonderland is only a dream away, darling Alice. Find us if you can."
As he starts to dissolve, Hatter kisses her gently on the cheek.
For an insane asylum - for that, really, is what the Janus Thickey Ward is - it is surprisingly quiet, even when one is walking the halls that separate the permanent residents from one another. Perhaps a few subtle Muffliato's have been sprinkled around after the evening visitation hours had ended but there's something more. It's not the quiet of the War, those hours spent trying not to be noticed by Voldemort supports, but more like ... they're all simply waiting for something.
The Healers certainly never notice the silence (or more like the significance of it; some of their patients are more easily excitable than others, so they are not going to question their good fortune) but, more importantly, they never even notice the stranger in their midst.
There are, however, a number of reasons they <i>should</i> notice him and pay him the strictest of attention.
For starters, the first offense is that this is his first time here and he has not signed in with the Welcome Witch. She would be very put out indeed if she were to actually notice him - all guests, especially those for any in the Janus Thickey Ward, must sign in.
Even worse, visiting hours were over ages ago.
But yet, here he is, standing still in the middle of a fairly busy hallway, listening to the patients listen to the silence.
The second issue with him is that he resembles a wizard as much as a muggle normally does. No robe hang over his shoulders and he has never even been inside a wand shop before. There is no magic to speak of in him and yet.
And yet there is a kind of wildness to his person that is somehow like and yet unlike any magic any wizard or witch has ever seen. This makes him unique.
And potentially dangerous.
The third issue is the greatest, however, and renders the first two merely annoyances.
He's not supposed to exist.
*
The mystery man walks down the corridor with his hands in his pockets and the dwindling number of Medi-Witches react to him only by subconsciously twitching out of his way to avoid a collision they're not even aware of.
Sometimes, when his mind grows bored with his pace and skims ahead, he loses concentration and sinks - just slightly - into in floor. Sometimes even as far as up to his ankles. He never gets stuck and will eventually ghost his way back to where his feet should properly be but he doesn't seem as worried about the issues as others might be.
He pauses at every door he passes to peer at the shimmering name plates on the front of them. Pause, read, move on. There are more empty rooms than full ones in this ward but it is fuller than it was; even ten years on, the effects from the war still ripple and stretch across all facets of life.
(There's a brief stop at the door so he can give Lockhart a once over after he sticks his head through both the physical door and the magical ward that layer over it. Lockhart gazes back and, for a moment, his gaze is sharp and alert but this quickly gives way to the general confusion he lives under. He waves and the mystery man pretends to doff his hat in return.)
He finally stills near the end of the hall where the last two room quietly reside. Standing between them, he crouches and holds his left hand out and close to the floor.
A small white mouse almost instantly squeezes out from under the door to his right. Across the floor and up into the palm of his hand, where it, of all things, sits up quite like a small dog.
He rises from his crouch and allows the little creature to scurry up his arm until it settles on his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" he asks after a moment. There is no actual response from the mouse but he nods to something in his head. "I believe you, old friend, but I think I shall see for myself. Hold on tight and keep away from the hat - I would hate to have to tell your mother, again, of the death of one of her children."
With the mouse clutching at his coat, he walks into the room to the right much like he had done with Lockhart's - just ducks his head and he's in. Simple as that.
It is three in the morning but the woman in the room is awake. She's trying to tear up the bedding but she's awake.
He doesn't say anything for a while and seems content to stay there and watch. This woman is nothing like the woman he knew and despite having prepared himself, he's still disappointed.
"Wherever have you gone, Alice?" he asks but Alice Longbottom pays him not a second of her attention. "You're so very badly needed, you see, for everything has gone wrong. If you cannot answer our riddles, then who will?"
His head tilts towards his smaller companion who apparently has a lot to say on the matter.
"You want me to seek out who?" He frowns and considers. "She's no Alice ... but perhaps we need a Not Alice this time."
Before he leaves, he stands behind Alice and leans over to whisper "Wonderland is only a dream away, darling Alice. Find us if you can."
As he starts to dissolve, Hatter kisses her gently on the cheek.