Harry potter and his life of bullsh!t

Chapter 28: What're you doin in my house?🥲

NARRATORS POV~

Two men stared at each other in the cool air, they're eyes locked.

"Harry?" Hagrid said gruffly, surprise showing for a moment. "What're ya doin here?"

Harry steps into the house, happily taking in the familiar air and house around his old friend.

—————-

Wind lapped at the walls of the prison, a constant breeze running down the halls that smelled of dust and faint rotting flesh. It was cold, damp, and dark; every corner of the place seemingly hollowed and empty with a sickening stench and presence.

Curled on the stone floor, his messy black hair resting on his shoulders and nearly covering his eyes, Sirius black sat silently.

The metal bars around him seemed to howl with the breeze, condensation flowing along the icy surface.

Sirius had been trapped here for what felt like several lifetimes and yet no time at all, locked away from his rightful life for a crime he didn't commit.

Depression sank into every inch of every prisoners bodies, a numb and painful emotion that lurked in the depths of their hearts.

There was no escape from this place, no way to get out, no good company. Even if you were insane- as most people in this ratchet place are, you could still feel the sorrow, still feel the pure disparity oozing from even themselves.

Every time a dementor would get closer than usual, a cold shiver runs down the spine of anyone near, the cloaked creatures horrific appearance not the problem, but the horrors that followed them instead.

Sirius traced his fingers in idle circles and patterns on the ground, a habit he never thinks about since he got taken here.

His mind was haunted with images about everything, clouded with his own pain and grief- never fully let heal.

Lately the tormentors had been going easy on him, he could tell. He had little idea why, maybe he was just getting used to this, but it felt as if he wasn't as tormented by them as before, as if they didn't despise him nearly as much.

It was strange, but so was he. Maybe he was going crazy, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on, and he didn't know what to think about it.

Though he never dared speak a word of it to even the most insane around him.

—————

Harry sat across from the burly man, a cup of butter beer in his hand and a smile on his face. It was good to talk to him after all this time, to have an actual conversation with him rather than staring from afar.

Booming laughter raked the man, and he seemed to be enjoying the interaction as well, though for different reasons than Harry.

He told the man about his adventures with an old man they were both familiar with, slowly bonding them together again until they held on by strings instead of air.

They talked about their passion for creatures, and anything relating to them.

It felt nostalgic for the ratty anarchist, like childhood music and smells, but much more.

He couldn't help but wonder how long it might take until it stopped feeling this way.

Maybe it never would.

A/N: Been a while my lovely cult of pants. I bid you welcome to a new chapter of your not so favorite fanfic, the words short and sweet but more than the neglect you're used to from me.

Fun fact: male Angler fish literally become the females permanent ballsack when they mate.

Q/N: Do you prefer warms events or fruity scents? I like a healthy mix of both.

Sincerely from the other half of your toxic relationship

-stormy.