standard disclaimers apply (I find it too tiring to think of new snappy sarcastic comebacks every time I do something like this)~
Photographs can move around in the wizarding world, but can they think for themselves? Do they have minds; intellect?
... Souls?
This is the story of an Albus Dumbledore, living within the walls of the photograph he belongs to, and his thoughts...dreams...hopes...
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I remember a bright flash, a glowing red light, and all of a sudden I was. Just like that.
I remember blinking, and when my eyes opened, the first thing I saw was a startled eleven year old boy with crooked glasses, messy black hair, and the queerest scar, shaped like a small lightning bolt. A boy next to him, with flaming red hair and a smudge on his nose, called him Harry, and rather reverently too. This Harry person must be an important boy, I thought. I leaned back, relaxed, and fell! Right through the paper of my photograph. Of course, I didn't know I was a photograph then. I thought I was just small.. A shadow of some sort.
Perhaps, in a sense, I am a shadow. A shadow of one Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a very, very powerful man, so it seemed.
After I fell, I remember the Harry boy exclaiming to his friend-Ron, he called him-that I had disappeared. Of course, I thought, no one can see me outside that rectangular card. That was when I took the opportunity to quickly read the inscription about the one I looked like, and learn something about him.
I sidled back into the card after a time, and smiled reassuringly at the boy, partly to comfort him, obviously so frightened and wary of this new world he was in, and partly to cover up my nervousness as well. Who was I? Or, rather, who was the real me, the one who I supposedly resembled so?
Harry eventually put me up somewhere in his bag, and left me there for quite a while. I seized the opportunity to leave my lonely little square and set out into the world, as well as I could, to learn. Knowledge was important, I deducted, and my desire to quench my thirst for knowledge strengthened me throughout my days. I must know who I was supposed to be; how could the other photographs bear this state of mind?
I knew what I would do. I would travel all over, as far and wide as I could, to visit other wizardly photographs-I knew now, from Harry, that Muggle photographs did not move-and see what they knew...
________________________________________________________________________
I'll finish this another time. In another chapter. W00t..
r/r. flame me for all I care. just gimme a review.
Photographs can move around in the wizarding world, but can they think for themselves? Do they have minds; intellect?
... Souls?
This is the story of an Albus Dumbledore, living within the walls of the photograph he belongs to, and his thoughts...dreams...hopes...
_______________________________________________________________________
I remember a bright flash, a glowing red light, and all of a sudden I was. Just like that.
I remember blinking, and when my eyes opened, the first thing I saw was a startled eleven year old boy with crooked glasses, messy black hair, and the queerest scar, shaped like a small lightning bolt. A boy next to him, with flaming red hair and a smudge on his nose, called him Harry, and rather reverently too. This Harry person must be an important boy, I thought. I leaned back, relaxed, and fell! Right through the paper of my photograph. Of course, I didn't know I was a photograph then. I thought I was just small.. A shadow of some sort.
Perhaps, in a sense, I am a shadow. A shadow of one Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a very, very powerful man, so it seemed.
After I fell, I remember the Harry boy exclaiming to his friend-Ron, he called him-that I had disappeared. Of course, I thought, no one can see me outside that rectangular card. That was when I took the opportunity to quickly read the inscription about the one I looked like, and learn something about him.
I sidled back into the card after a time, and smiled reassuringly at the boy, partly to comfort him, obviously so frightened and wary of this new world he was in, and partly to cover up my nervousness as well. Who was I? Or, rather, who was the real me, the one who I supposedly resembled so?
Harry eventually put me up somewhere in his bag, and left me there for quite a while. I seized the opportunity to leave my lonely little square and set out into the world, as well as I could, to learn. Knowledge was important, I deducted, and my desire to quench my thirst for knowledge strengthened me throughout my days. I must know who I was supposed to be; how could the other photographs bear this state of mind?
I knew what I would do. I would travel all over, as far and wide as I could, to visit other wizardly photographs-I knew now, from Harry, that Muggle photographs did not move-and see what they knew...
________________________________________________________________________
I'll finish this another time. In another chapter. W00t..
r/r. flame me for all I care. just gimme a review.