Who:Harry Potter and OPEN to anyone! or works as a narrative! What:internalizing as he often does. When:Tonight. Where:His room. He hasn't left it much since arrival. Warning: TBA but likey none
The night sky was dark with cloud cover and the air was muggy and thick. Harry had barely noticed the uncomfortable weather. He had his television on mute and his knees wrapped up in his arms. His chin rested on his knees as he stared ahead at the television screen. If one had asked what he was watching, even he could not say. He had lost track long ago. He didn't even know what day it was. Ginny had been forcefully Dark Marked in a world where he'd died instead of saved her. He couldn't even imagine. Someone had though. Someone had imagined everything. Harry didn't even want to go into that. His life was a story book. Everything about him was laid out on the internet for the world to see. To say the least he was unnerved. Dark bangs fell into his face as he buried it against his knees and the remote control slipped from his hands to his bare feet. Harry didn't even notice it was gone.
He hadn't eaten much since arrival save for a sandwich outting with Ron and had barely slept. Everything came at him like a whirlwind that took his breath away all at once. His eyes closed half way as he listened to the silence of his room. After years of living with the Dursleys Harry was glad for silence. The downside was it gave him too much time to think. Harry had too many thoughts that headed in a downward motion. His mother was there. Ginny was supposed to help get her settled while he tried to cope with things himself. Was this coping? Adjusting had been frightfully difficult. He wasn't so sure he was doing it correctly. He tried to be social with the muggles, it just wasn't the easiest after everything that had happened in the last year. He was used to a little fame from the wizard world, but nothing like the attention the muggles gave him. It actually worried him more. Made him want to try going out less and less. The more used to his empty apartment he became.
People came back from the dead all the time but Harry didn't know what to say. He'd waited seventeen long years to meet her, and he couldn't figure out how to string the right words together around her. She was right there and he was afraid. He knew Hermiione had a point, that he needed to try to make new memories of her while he had the chance, but there was that little voice in the back of his head that dragged him down again. She could disappear at any given moment, she could reject him as he tried to reject Kansas. Either of those options was too painful for him to bare. What if he let himself get attached and then she slipped away again? How was he supposed to react to that.
Leaning back against his wall he closed his eyes and just tried to relax. Ravenclaw's Diadem was still in the back of his mind as well. He couldn't search for it. It didn't make much sense in a world where it didn't exist., but he just felt so damn restless that he was about to go out of his mind.
His room was dimly lit, his window open. A gentle breeze touched his face but nothing brought him any sort of real comfort. He wanted to see his mother. He'd wanted nothing more in his entire life to have a real family. It felt like he was frozen, he had a chance to be around her and his legs wouldn't cooperate. The weight of the world was burying him.