There appears to be issues with iphone/apple users being able to fully enjoy this story as originally imagined, however it's still fun with the small adjustment! Enjoy!

Written for Wizarding World Writers' How Inappropriate! fest:

Winner for Overall Favourite
Runner-Up for Best Prose

Follow the directions, if you don't follow the directions you will probably get lost.
If you get lost there's nobody here to help you.
And you might just end up exactly where you don't want to be...
in a room, and who knows if you'll ever be able to leave.
Ron Weasley POV. We don't bash Ron, we love the guy, but he is put through the wringer.
...the further he goes...
...and he has no idea how far it has been...
... and if he really thinks about it...
....he also doesn’t know how long it has been...
...he begins to feel what he can only describe as…
...an oppressive darkness, curling into his mind, poisoning his thoughts.

Notes:

In response to a prompt by WizardingWorldWriters in the How Inappropriate! - Quill Quest! collection.

Prompt:

Inappropriate Use of Portkeys
This is a story in three parts.
Follow the directions and you will experience them the way they were meant to be experienced!
But if you don't, well that's the risk I guess I took when getting all fancy. <3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Are-you-lost

Ron opens his eyes and he is in...a room

spencer-HHWwq-WV6d5k-unsplash

"Hermione?" He croaks out, his voice like sandpaper.

"Ron? You're awake?!"

Ron's air huffs out as Hermione tackles him with a hug.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what's all this about?" He asks, still folding her into his arms.

"Do you remember what's happened?" She pulls back to look him in the eyes.

"No... I know I've had a rotten nightmare, what's happened though?" His heart begins to pound again... box breaths, he reminds himself.

"I don't know if I should be the one to tell you Ron, last time it didn't go very well," she says biting her lip. "Maybe we should wait for the mediwizard to come?"

"What mediwizard?," Ron asks, although now that he's had a chance to wake, he realizes that he's not in his room at the Burrow, or at the hotel he just came from. He isn't anywhere he recognizes at all...

His heart picks up again.

"Hermione, where am I?"

"Ron, please try to stay calm, please," She gets off the bed and grabs ahold of his hand. "Just breathe, okay?"

"I can't, I can't breathe Hermione. There's something going on!"

Cold sweat once again pushes from his pores sending chills throughout his body.

"I- I don't know where I am!"

Again, again the heavy darkness pounds from his heart and spreads to his body.

"Hermione, the locket, the locket!" He yells.

"Ron, Ron, look at me, look at me!" Hermione pulls his hand towards her body, trying to get his attention.

Ron looks at her, he looks at her really closely, it's her, it has to be her, she knows him, she's holding his hand, this is real, it's real, it's real, it's real!

Hermione curls his fingers open, and slips into his hand...

the locket.

"You'll never leave this place Ron."

Ron chokes out a sob.

He would never leave this place.

He can never leave this place.

This place is not real.

A familiar tug behind his navel...

Ron would cry out in despair but...

...all he can do is let out an endless terrified scream.

Ron's journey home is simple.

Pack his luggage.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Grab the portkey – a muggle flashlight, so he’s been told.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He flicks it off and on just for the novelty of it, muggles are ingenious when you think about it.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It activates at just the right time, as expected, but somehow he ended up in...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

a room

shttefan-B7-XNN9u-NAh8-unsplash

Do you know where you are Ron? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

You're at the beginning. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Ron. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Come closer.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It is a dark room, and Ron tries not to panic, because he should be outside the Burrow, to stay with his parents for the holiday weekend. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

This room is emphatically not the Burrow. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

This room is your resting placeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Ron’s auror training kicks in, he tamps down his panic, and crouches low, making himself as small a target as possible. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He reaches for his wand.

This room will eat you alive Ron.

FUCK!

No wand.

No magic can save you here.

There is no magic that can overcome the darkness.

It isn’t like him to not have his wand. He tries to cast his mind back to the last few minutes, where and when he might have set down his wand… but his memories before he arrived are hazy at best.

To him this situation is beginning to feel vaguely familiar, like he has heard of this happening to another wizard before… a port-key abduction.

We've been waiting for you Ron. Waiting to bring you here. Waiting for you to be ready for this place.

He can’t recall the details, probably from some grisly case at work… but he hopes this is just a ministry mistake, a port-key mishap.

Or were you always in this place?

He can’t see much in the room, but there is some light coming from a hallway in front of him, that’s likely his next move, but first he should take stock of his belongings.

Have you always belonged to this place?

He peers into the darkness for his luggage, but he can’t make it out. He does have the muggle flashlight in his hand, thankfully, and he flicks the light on.

Maybe you were born here.

flashlight

The light is a gift from us, Ron.

His luggage is nowhere to be found.

So we always know where to find you.

Ron feels a chill wash over his body.

We'll always know where to find you.

Something is wrong.

Because you have always been here.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

With no wand, with no belongings, all he can do now is try to find the exit of the house and find help. Provided there are no more surprises in store.

Now come deeper in. Let us embrace you.

Ron stands, takes a deep breath, and walks toward the door which opens to…

a hallway

You'll never escape, Ron.

charlesdeluvio-pc-Zvxr-Ay-Yo-Q-unsplash

The hallway is thin and oppressive, a light by the door shines no further than roughly ten feet ahead before losing strength to the darkness.

When do you think we got to you, Ron?

Ron advances slowly, cautiously, and, if he stopped to think about it (which he doesn’t), nervously.

Was it when you were sleeping last night?

Every five or six steps, Ron casts his light forward, hoping to see the end of the hallway.

Maybe it was last week.

The only thing he sees is more hallway. More darkness.

Or maybe it was when you touched the locket years ago, maybe it was always a port-key.

He reaches out and drags his fingers along the wall to ground himself as he walks further.

A port-key to bring you home.

He needs to ground himself because if he does not his thoughts will run away from him… which would be dangerous in a place like this.

You feel it don't you? That you've been here before?

However, the further he goes...

...and he has no idea how far it has been...

... and if he really thinks about it...

....he also doesn’t know how long it has been...

...he begins to feel what he can only describe as…

...an oppressive darkness, curling into his mind, poisoning his thoughts.

Maybe it was when you left your friends. You thought you left the locket behind... but no, it carried you here.

He’s felt something like it before, an evil threading its tentacles deep into his mind, turning everything around him gray and bleak.

Where your friends can't hurt you. Where they can never leave you behind. Because here they are nothing.

It feels much like the locket which housed a fragment of Voldemort’s cruel soul.

And you are everything... to us

But he hasn’t touched anything like the locket recently, has he?

And the longer you stay... which is much longer than you know.

Unless…

The deeper you join to us.

He rips his hand from the wall.

And you can try as hard as you like, but we're here... in you...

The oppressive feeling abates.

And soon, much sooner than you think... you will never be able to break free from us.

However, while the darkness abates, the fear returns, and…

NEVER.

Ron isn’t sure…

NEVER.

In fact he’s sure he doesn’t hear it…

NEVER.

Laughter.

It’s laughter he’s not hearing.

Suddenly lights from above flicker on.

Enough stalling Ron. Come deeper.

The endless hallway brightens.

Come deeper, Ron.

Run.

COME DEEPER.

Run Ron.

RON.

He runs.

RON.

dark-hallway

Until he reaches…

shttefan-B7-XNN9u-NAh8-unsplash

the room

NO.

YES.

Ron’s heart is pounding.

NO.

YES.

It can’t be, he can’t be back where he started.

We've been here before and we'll be here again...

Bile climbs up his throat, and a cold sweat pushes its way unpleasantly through his pores.

...and again...

NO.

...and again...

Ron raises his hand to shine the flashlight around the room, to see if there’s any possible other way out of this hell hole.

...and again...

It’s no longer in his hands.

...and again...

He lost the flashlight.

...and again...

A frightened whimper slips past his lips.

...and again...

NO.

...and again...

He clamps down on his tongue, if he lets himself make any sound at all, it will devolve into more than just whimpers. He knows this about himself, from the other times, when the ragged screaming cost him his voice for weeks and set him back into…

...yes Ron. Scream for us again...

NO.

...YES. RON..

No thinking either.

...SCREAM FOR US AGAIN...

There must be a way out.

...FOREVER...

He spins around to attempt to head back down the hallway, as much as he’d hate to do it, maybe he passed by a door while he was sprinting by.

...AND EVER...

He turns and turns and turns, and the hallway is nowhere to be found.

...AND EVER...

The feeling of oppression returns tenfold, and Ron cries out.

...AND EVER...

“Stop it! Stop it!”

...AND EVER...

He feels the darkness spread out from his chest, pushing from his heart and flowing outwards into his body.

...AND EVER...

“No! Stop it!”

...AND EVER...

Auror training whispers to him… this is a panic attack. When you feel a panic attack coming, your first step is to take control of your breathing.

...YOUR FIRST BREATH WAS HERE...

Ron sucks in a long breath.

...AND YOUR LAST BREATH WILL BE HERE...

One. Two. Three. Four.

...AND EVERY BREATH YOU WILL BREATHE IN BETWEEN...

Hold. Two. Three. Four.

...WILL BE HERE...

Out. Two. Three. Four.

...BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE...

Hold. Two. Three. Four.

...NEVER...

His heart slows its pounding, but the oppression remains.

...AND ALL THE HEAVINESS YOU FEEL?...

He feels something pulling him down, like the weight of the world is pulling him down.

...IT IS US...

Like a chain around his neck, he is sinking down…

...IT IS OUR JOINING...

He places a hand over his heart, to attempt to ground himself… and that’s when he feels it.

...BECAUSE YOU ARE...

Every hair on his body stands as goosebumps lift on his skin.

...RON...

It can’t be.

...Ron wake up...

They got rid of it.

...Ron it's me...

It can’t be.

...Ron please...

It can’t be.

...It's okay Ron...

His hand curls around a familiar palm-sized shape.

...you destroyed the locket...

He doesn’t need to see it to know what it is.

...you did, with Harry...

He can feel the malevolence emanating from it.

...Ron it's me....

It’s the locket.

...Hermione...

Suddenly Ron feels a familiar hooking behind his navel…

I'm fighting it Hermione, I'm trying!

NO.

It's not a portkey.

It’s a portkey.

Press HERE and start one more time.

(Press the locket to go back to the beginning, then Select All (Ctrl + A), or highlight the spoiler text as you read this time.)

Notes:

If you haven't seen something like this: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" you haven't reached the end of this story, go back and keep trying! hint: if you can't find it check the end of Chapter 2.

Actions

Kudos

Pensieve_Podfics, RavenclawViking, Nusilverwolf, PearlButtons, ChapterReads, IndigoHaze, morgan_magic, liiilyevans, beanclip, EscapeInMyBookshelf, kakumeizenya, SomnophiliaSweetheart, jiexhua, g0lden_g1rl, idreamofdraco, SiobhanHazel, swift_knight, scarchaser, Lexxus, and WizardingWorldWriters as well as 1 guest left kudos on this work!

Archive of Our Own^beta

Actions

Work Header

Are you lost...?

D4nce

Summary:

Notes:

Chapter 1

Notes:

Chapter Text

a room

a hallway

the room

Notes:

Actions

Kudos

Comments

Footer

About the Archive

Contact Us

Development