The Great War ⏤ Harry Potter

01 | dog days

There is only darkness. It stretches out infinitely like a lonely stretch of a highway. Everything is black; the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The room is lifeless, devoid of any colour except the one associated with death. It is cold, dreadfully so, as if the room has never experienced even a second of warmth in its life.

The room only has one thing in it; a black door, on the opposite side. It is quite a peculiar door ⏤ it is a door without handles, a sign that something strange dwells in this room, living amongst these walls. The single door responds to a verbal command in a tone that is colder than the room itself. The voice is pure ice with a permanent chill coating each word.

The door is opened, revealing more darkness. It doesn't end, this abyss of darkness they've entered. It only grows as they venture further along for whatever it is they are here for.

The scene changes. They stand in a circular room, this time not clouded by darkness. Candles hang on the black walls, blue flames reflecting blue light all across the room. The flames shift in the still air, creating an underwater effect on the marble walls. The walls shimmer, adding to the otherworldly experience. It is unnatural, whatever this place is. Twelve doors stand in the circular room, all without handles. They are illuminated by a sickly blue glow from the candles, shimmering like the walls. Humming can be heard on the other side of the doors, almost like a siren call beckoning them to step closer.

The doors get closer and then ⏤ nothing.

☀︎☀︎☀︎

Sweat slides down Magdalena's back, a combination of the heat wave waging war across the country currently and at what she saw last night. Magdalena Valor finds herself sitting across from Professor Dumbledore, tucked into the wooden chairs at the Valor's dining table in Somerset. The Headmaster is silent as he lets Magdalena speak, revealing nothing in those clear eyes hidden behind his glasses.

"That's all I saw," Magdalena finishes, running a hand down her arm. Her skin is sticky, a sheen of sweat coating her arm from the oppressive heat outside. All the windows in the house have been pulled open in a vain attempt to let a breeze in but to no avail. Condensation runs down the cup of the homemade slushy Magdalena's mother had made for them. The ice has melted the drink into flavoured liquid and although it will be cold, it wasn't what Magdalena had in mind when she first took it out of the freezer.

"This is wonderful," Professor Dumbledore comments as though Magdalena hadn't spoken, finishing the last of his Cream Soda slushy. "You must pass on my compliments to your mother."

Magdalena wraps a hand around her own cup of lime cordial slushie, almost sighing in relief as the cold drink makes contact with her sweaty, warm palm. The chill of the drink is biting but she doesn't remove her hand. A chill runs from her face to her toes as she takes a sip through her straw. The lime cordial hitting her tongue is sweet and for a second she can forget about what she saw last night.

Not that she is able to make much of what she saw. It was only a black room and then another black room that had twelve doors with no handles in it. It left her uneasy, but any time she has a vision she feels uneasy afterwards. It is difficult trying to pretend you're normal when you keep experiencing the very thing that makes you not normal.

"We both know we aren't here to talk about your mother's treats," Professor Dumbledore says. Despite the heat wave the country is experiencing, the Headmaster is wearing fashionable maroon robes, decorated with stars. Just the sight makes Magdalena break out in another sweat. She is only wearing a tank top with spaghetti straps, too overheated to wear anything else, and she feels that is too much.