First Person: [Why does a watch that doesn't tell time have all of these buttons? The least someone could have done on that boring train ride was show him what he was supposed to do with it.
Since no answer seems to be forthcoming, he does what any normal person would do in this situation: push all of them to see what happens.]
Do something.
[The watch doesn't respond. Inanimate objects rarely do. However, now the audio function has been enabled, and anyone can hear him muttering to himself as he tries to figure this out.
Finally, he pushes the button to turn on the video function, and his own image shows up on the tiny screen. Now this is familiar. He had a communication device similar to this, at home.]
Hello? Is anyone there?
Third Person: How odd, Harry first thought, that this journey should be taking place aboard a train. He liked trains. He associated them with new beginnings, for the most part.
The last time he had been in a train station, however, he had been dead and had the option of going on or going back. Back had been the only choice, then. He'd had unfinished business and people who were counting on him; but now, he was not being presented with options. The train was taking him to some undisclosed location, and the strangest thing was he didn't even remember getting on board.
Was he dead, after all? He didn't really think that was the case. He had definitely survived that killing curse, to see his destiny through to the end. And what an end it had been---just as it had began, really. Voldemort's own curse rebounding, doing him in for a second time. But this time for good.
Harry rubbed absently at the scar on his forehead. It wasn't that he felt anything there. He most definitely did not, and that was the weird part. He had grown used to the twinges and the occasional searing pain. Now it was just a scar, as lifeless as the being that had put it there. These were things that he was sure of, and it irked him just a bit that he now had no idea of what was going on.
After several failed attempts at forcing his way off the train, he begrudgingly resigned himself to this passage. Perhaps there would be answers upon his arrival.
[CANON] Harry Potter || Harry Potter || no reserve || 3 of 3
Since no answer seems to be forthcoming, he does what any normal person would do in this situation: push all of them to see what happens.]
Do something.
[The watch doesn't respond. Inanimate objects rarely do. However, now the audio function has been enabled, and anyone can hear him muttering to himself as he tries to figure this out.
Finally, he pushes the button to turn on the video function, and his own image shows up on the tiny screen. Now this is familiar. He had a communication device similar to this, at home.]
Hello? Is anyone there?
Third Person: How odd, Harry first thought, that this journey should be taking place aboard a train. He liked trains. He associated them with new beginnings, for the most part.
The last time he had been in a train station, however, he had been dead and had the option of going on or going back. Back had been the only choice, then. He'd had unfinished business and people who were counting on him; but now, he was not being presented with options. The train was taking him to some undisclosed location, and the strangest thing was he didn't even remember getting on board.
Was he dead, after all? He didn't really think that was the case. He had definitely survived that killing curse, to see his destiny through to the end. And what an end it had been---just as it had began, really. Voldemort's own curse rebounding, doing him in for a second time. But this time for good.
Harry rubbed absently at the scar on his forehead. It wasn't that he felt anything there. He most definitely did not, and that was the weird part. He had grown used to the twinges and the occasional searing pain. Now it was just a scar, as lifeless as the being that had put it there. These were things that he was sure of, and it irked him just a bit that he now had no idea of what was going on.
After several failed attempts at forcing his way off the train, he begrudgingly resigned himself to this passage. Perhaps there would be answers upon his arrival.