Chapter 7: But Your Heart's Desire
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**********
Ash lay comatose on the worn, ligneous bed. His eyes fluttered open, the light filtering through the blinds and deciding to pierce its way into his skull.
Sitting up with a yawn, he peered around the room. Dirty clothes were strewn across the floor, filthy boxers hung from the door handle and open boxes of takeout sat atop his desk.
His eyes flickered back to his bed. In fact, it would be more accurate to compare his so-called bed to an animal pen; it sure smelt like one.
If that wasn't enough, the very room seemed to reflect the state of himself, both within and without. It was foul, derelict, and in dire need of a makeover.
The hum of a computer fan resonated in his ears, momentarily distracting him from his daily dose of self-hatred.
Misty fog curled at the bottom of the screen, just beneath the Seal of Akatosh. Blinking away dark blotches from his vision, he cast off his duvet and stepped onto the grimy, wooden floor.
'Dear lord, this place is a mess… as usual.' He winced, taking great care to not step onto or into anything untoward. This meant that he had to traverse stacks of empty boxes, heaps of unwashed clothes and his old, torn textbooks before he could enter the bathroom.
After all of that, Ash stood before the mirror and took in his appearance for what felt like the first time in forever.
His stomach was pudgy, his curly hair matted and despite the twelve hours of sleep, his dark eyes were sunken and puffy.
He would go as far as to say that his defining feature were the dark circles surrounding his eyes. The ones that looked as if they had been branded onto him.
His vision dropped down to the sink, at anything that would allow him to not gaze upon that accursed visage, if only for a few moments.
After a quick shower, he once again returned to the pigsty he called a room. The dead atmosphere was resurrected by the chime of a phone, not that he was surprised. His mother called him at the same time, every day, without fail.
And every day, he would give her the same answers: that he was fine, that he was eating and sleeping well, and that he would come to visit her soon. Empty lies, of course, but they helped to convince her and in turn, himself.
That 'soon' seemed to stretch itself further and further away. Something that felt both near and far. He knew that whilst he was like this, soon would never come.
He had dreamt of what life could be like. When he would go to the gym, attend his lectures, and work at himself until he could stand still and say 'Yup, I'm proud of myself!'
But when it actually came down to proving his worth, showing his mettle, getting the deed done… he cowered.
He would tell himself 'not today' or 'I'll definitely do it tomorrow.' after which he'd immediately boot up his PC and start Skyrim.
A vicious cycle indeed.
And why shouldn't he? At least he was saving Tamriel from Alduin, Harkon, Miraak and so many other imaginary threats that couldn't harm him from behind the screen. He was strong there, a far cry from his pitiful life back in the real world. As much as he would deny that fact, it was true that he enjoyed his role there.
The power, the Thu'um, at his beck and call. The power to shape reality itself.
It was most likely why he was so lethargic when away from his PC… away from Skyrim.
He wasn't alive without it, he certainly didn't feel like it.The worst part was that he was aware of all of this and still continued to play because anything was better than his sorry excuse of an existence.
Rubbing his face, he slogged his way over towards the blinds, taking great care to not slip on some leftover instant ramen. He yanked them open, hissing as the sunlight burnt his eyes.
It was well past midday, that was for sure. Once his vision was restored, he gazed down at the street below him. The tall skyscrapers in the distance were once a pipe dream of his; one that he was disillusioned to very early on in life.
Instead, he now lived on what people knew as the outskirts. It was still a very lively place, teeming with different kinds of people, cultures, and lifestyles but it just wasn't the inner city. The place that everyone and their mothers, especially their mothers, aspired to live.
He lowered his gaze, staring down at the ant-like figures scurrying below him.
Children, parents, workers, the occasional runner; all flitted back and forth— but at least they were outside.
The same couldn't be said about him.
He sighed. It was a defeated sigh, one that he was tired of hearing. It signified his willingness to sit there and take it all. That he let life beat him to his knees and keep him there.
He was too tired to fight but loathed his position regardless. He stared at the street for a moment longer before turning around and walking back towards his desk.
It was an act that he had repeated so many times before. He knew exactly what was going to happen next, but did he care?
The answer to that was more complex than he cared to admit.
*
oOOOo
October 5th, 1990, 8:45 AM, The Great Hall
*
Life, for lack of a better word, sucked at the moment.
Simply going through the motions like a zombie, I lacked any real motivation or effort to do anything. Every waking moment of my life was consumed by the need to do better, be better.
On the flipside, I had been constantly berating myself. I was never up to scratch and the fact that I could never become what I had seen unsettled me in ways that I couldn't fathom.
It was like a demon constantly on my shoulder, reminding me of everything that I would never be.
Sitting at my usual position in the Great Hall, I stared at a clear spot on the table, my eyes half glazed over. Katie's wittering fell upon deaf ears but I still managed to find it within myself to nod when appropriate.
A few days had passed and I still hadn't recovered from my most recent discovery. It showed me things about myself that I had repressed.
No, it would be more apt to say that I had willingly ignored them, pushed them so far down that I'd forgotten about them. Things that completely threw me out of sync.
I stirred the cereal within the thin metal bowl. Much like the some of the castle, it was aged and dented yet still functional. Every once in a while, I would shovel a spoonful into my mouth, but by the time I had gathered enough mental capacity to begin eating, the cereal was already soggy.
Just another thing to go wrong, I thought morosely.
My week had been one negative experience piled onto the next, all of it stemming from the moment I peered into that godforsaken mirror in a moment of hubris.
Looking at it for a few minutes would have been fine, but no, my pathetic self decided to sit there and stare at it.
I thought that just because I was in a new body, that my problems had magically disappeared but it had just proved to me that I was still the same weak-willed coward that I had always been.
The only good thing to come from that mirror was the fact that it provided me with another word of power, though it wasn't one I was ecstatic for.
'Faas… fear, huh?'
I hadn't used the shout yet, nor did I plan to. If my feelings gave me even an inkling of what it did, then the first word was more than enough.
For a moment, I wondered what all three words would do. 'Break a person's mind?'
Despite my aversion to the word, not even for a moment was I ungrateful for it. It would be useful for crowd control amongst other things.
Staring at my cereal, I thought of the past few days or more specifically, my run-in with the Mirror of Erised. The fear I felt was immense. It engulfed my thoughts, prevented me from thinking of anything but that accursed mirror.
But even then; the fear was in the moment, it was transitory. It was far less harmful than the self-loathing, self-depreciative and self destructive thoughts that ran through my mind in the days afterwards.
That realisation felt like bile rising up my throat.
As if someone had shoved their hand within the recesses of my sternum and held my still-beating heart within the palm of their hand. To make matters worse, someone somewhere probably did.
It most definitely explained how my soul migrated bodies. Though for all I knew, I could have died in my sleep.
Was it Akatosh? Hermaeus Mora, or maybe Sheogorath?
The former would make sense, so would Hermaeus Mora but since I lacked the presence of cheese in my life, I assumed that it would be safe to rule out Sheogorath.
A moment later, my thoughts flitted to a being so vile, his name caused my face to morph in disgust. But I didn't discount that it could be someone like… Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of Domination and Schemes.
An involuntary shiver slithered down my spine. My forearms prickled, no doubt due to the emergence of goosebumps. I hastily extended my sleeves and tightened my robe to ward off the sudden chill.
It didn't help much.
What if my entire life here, the bonds that I would forge, the power I planned on accumulating, all of it, was ripped away from me in a sick plot to crush my very being.
I stood up, slowly making my way around the table and out of the hall. Following the rest of my year mates towards our next lesson, I trailed behind Katie.
I absentmindedly put one foot in front of the next, hoping that with each step, my worries would be left far behind me.
Alas, as the coming days would show, that was unfortunately not meant to be.
'I really need to blow off some steam…' I thought, biting the inside of my cheek.
*
oOOOo
Seventh Floor, Room of Requirement, 4:15 PM
*
Today wasn't good.
I spent the majority of my time in lessons in my own head. At least I'm far enough ahead for it to not matter but I had no doubt in my mind that my Professors noticed.
Not to mention the fact that I had a backlog of essays and miscellaneous tasks. Earlier on in the week, I had begun writing them but would give up halfway and since then, I hadn't been able to summon the motivation to continue.
'You've changed, huh?' I thought mockingly. A derisive chuckle escaped my mouth, making me feel all the more useless.
Inhaling sharply through my nose, I stood up, knocking the chair to the floor with a clatter. I cast off my robe and stormed towards the dummy area of the room.
Flicking my wrist, my wand shot into my hand. It was hot to touch, almost scalding.
"Verdimillious Tria!" I growled, slashing my wand forwards.
There was an audible crack as three intertwined, verdant sparks flashed towards the dummy ahead of me, scorching the bullseye with a sizzle.
I stared at the thin trail of smoke wafting off of the dummy impassively. That would be enough to harm your run-of-the-mill, ordinary wizard but a trained person?
I felt a trickle of anxiety in my chest.
Despite my willingness to leave it all behind me, the unease from the morning had persisted. 'But how many times have you been willing to change? It's not that simple'
My lips curled upwards in a snarl. I was changing, I had to change. If not, what was coming would shred me to pieces and scatter my remains into the wind.
I gripped my wand tighter, the etched wood coarse and rough against my palm. Gasping for air, I gritted my teeth and answered my fears the only way I knew how.
"Incendio!"
In the small gap it took for my intent to take physical form, I didn't care about anything other than ridding myself of the inexplicable worries that ailed me. My heart thundered in my chest at the very notion that I could fail.
The magic pooled within me and in that moment, I felt untouchable. I closed my eyes, focusing it towards my wand.
It travelled up my toes and spread across my body. The hairs on my forearms and nape stood on end, my skin tingling at the sensation.
My fear, the future, the Mirror— I just wanted all of it gone. And in that regard, my magic was just as enthusiastic as I.
It answered my summons in the form of a great torrent of scorching fire. It dyed my vision orange, causing my armpits to grow damp and my brow to itch at the heat. It burnt the ground on its way towards the dummies, devouring anything and everything that had the misfortune of being in its destructive path.
If there was one thing I knew, it was that it would not be stopped.
The dummies stood no chance in the face of my emotions given form and were soon no more than pyre for their own funerals. I stared at the dancing flame, enthralled at what I'd just witnessed.
That was power. It was unstoppable, immutable, inevitable.
'But Voldemort is stronger… Dumbledore is stronger… just what am I in the face of that…?'
I froze in my tracks, a fragile expression marring my otherwise tranquil face. If I could do this, then monsters like those two could do so much more.
I sagged to the floor with a soft thud.
If I were to be honest, it was due to a mix of exhaustion and the realisation of my current place in the world.
Within my chest, the familiar spark ignited once more in a futile bid to resurrect my dampened spirits. This time, it was extinguished without any conscious effort on my part.
My place in the world was below someone as pathetic as Voldemort, who named himself and his followers after his fears. As indecisive as Dumbledore, who was so fixated on the ideal that he let people suffer and die for not meeting it.
I stood up shakily, my hands on my knees and my wand still on the floor. I licked my chapped lips and swallowed, irritating my sore throat.
That was the most painful thing of all. I knew the ins and outs of both of their characters. What made them tick, what they loved and feared, what made them, them.
But my knowledge was irrelevant. They were completely free to wreak havoc across the land in their glorified chess match, the rest of us and our lives be damned.
It was fucking infuriating.
Looking to the side, I noticed the walls of the room were tinged in a melancholy blue— the room was… worried for me.
"I-I'm fine." I croaked, bending down to pick up my wand. Walking over to the table, I draped my robe over myself before grabbing my bag. "See you tomorrow room…"
Twirling my wrist, I softly muttered the incantation for the Silencing Charm before bringing my wand to the top of my head.
"Occultare." I muttered.
I stood still, waiting for the usual sensation to pass before opening my eyes. I gave the room one last cursory, if not dissatisfied, look before stepping out into the corridor.
The door shut with a soft click behind me and I watched it melt into the wall. It was pulled backwards and faded from my sight, being replaced with the all-too-familiar stone walls of the castle.
Staring at the space where the door had been, I began walking towards the common room, wanting nothing more than to crash on my bed and not wake up.
"But tomorrow will be better…" I murmured weakly.
The empty promise did little to help me as I dragged myself down the corridor.
*
oOOOo
October 7th, 1990, 2:27 PM, Sixth Floor
*
I strode down a narrow passage, completely unbothered by the icy winds that were howling outside and rattling the castle's windows. They were glazed over thanks to the cold, but even that couldn't hide the sway of the trees in the face of Boreas' wrath.
A shuddering breath escaped my lips. It fogged in front of my face and tickled the tip of my nose. For all its mind-numbing power, the chill of the British winter could not take the load off of my shoulders; the veritable mountain against my back, threatening to crush me under its weight.
In some respect, I hoped that it did. At least then I would be free of the gnawing anxiety.
Shaking my head with a scoff, I wrapped my arms around myself and stared out of the window.
Letting out a final, defeated sigh, I began to wander down the hall. A nondescript rug had been rolled across the floor, extending itself further than my eyes could see and far longer than I could bother to look.
Today, being Sunday, was my day off so that I could recoup and centre myself for the next week. As a result, I had far more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. After minutes of weighing up the pros and cons, I decided to wander around and traverse the many halls, arches, gateways and hidden corners of the castle— or at least the ones that I could find.
Choosing to spend too much time on my craft would hinder instead of help me, no matter how much of a good decision it may seem at the time.
At the very least, my break served to take my mind off the troubles and travails that I had found itself afflicted with and that, to me, was enough.
Over the course of the last month, I had found that Katie began to spend more time with Angelina and Alicia, leaving me alone for the most part. Not that it was a bad thing and if I were to be frank, it was going to happen eventually.
Despite enjoying my newfound youth, mentally, I was anything but. The longer she was around me, the more she would realise that I was different, distanced, strange.
It was a shame, really. For all her immaturity, I did enjoy her company, but it did not detract from my life all too much. I would see her in lessons and at meal times anyways.
And with that final thought, I continued my aimless trek.
The further down the corridor I went, the narrower it became until eventually, I found myself before a door without a knob nor keyhole. In its place was a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
I approached it curiously. Once I was in arm's distance, it sparked to life, its beak stretching comically before it cried out.
"You are no Eagle, little Lion," it proclaimed.
The eagle's voice was boisterous, loud, but not lacking in intelligence. Its voice carried undertones of wisdom, as if it knew things that I did not.
That was most probably true, I thought.
"I'm here out of curiosity, Eagle," I replied. "You can't fault me for that now, can you?"
There was a moment of silence, I could almost hear the gears whirring in its head.
"...I suppose not." conceded the eagle after a few moments of deliberation. "But to satisfy my own directives, here is a riddle!"
My back straightened at the unexpected remark. I wasn't a Ravenclaw, but then again, I didn't have to be one in order to answer a riddle.
"Are you ready, lad?" it asked, to which I nodded. The eagle cleared its throat, for reasons unknown to me, before leaping into the riddle. "I'm part of the bird that's not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean yet remain dry. What am I?"
'Something that can swim in the ocean… that's part of a bird yet not in the sky…'
I stood still for a moment, holding my chin in thought. One moment turned into a few, those turned into a minute and soon, I had been pondering for a full five.
"Do you give in, little Lion?" crooned the eagle triumphantly.
My frown deepened whilst I tried to wrap my mind around the statement. Eventually, I muttered out an answer. "...a sh…ow…"
"What was that?"
"I said a shadow." My head rose upwards as a fleeting smile broke out across my face. "The answer to the riddle is a shadow. A shadow is the only part of a bird that isn't in the sky."
"...correct." huffed the knocker, seemingly annoyed. "And although you are not part of the Ravenclaw House, I must let you in as per my instructions. Welcome, young Gryffindor, to the Ravenclaw Common Room!"
The door swung inwards, allowing me to peer into a bronze and blue coloured room. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars. Across the room were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and at the end of my vision stood a tall, white marble statue of none other than Rowena Ravenclaw.
Its inhabitants were chatting away happily, probably assuming that I was yet another Ravenclaw returning to the bird nest.
And I wouldn't let them think any other way.
Spinning on the balls of my feet, I stalked down the corridor towards the moving staircase, the eagle's cries falling on deaf ears.
'Next floor, the sixth.'
.
**********
They say that the greatest struggles are often ones within.
Now, I can already anticipate the comments referring to Asim as a pussy or something of the sort. I said in the synopsis that the story was going to be realistic. In fact, right there in the synopsis you are told that Asim is a procrastinator. Though he is trying to better himself, that much is true.
For those of you who are dissatisfied, I have a question. How easy is it to change? We all desire it. To make something of ourselves. But when it comes down to it, tell me, how easy is it to change?
It's far easier said than done. I have yet another question by the way.
Do you feel that you have a better grasp on Asim as a character? Do you feel that you understand him? Not necessarily like him or respect him but understand him. I feel that I'm doing a sub-par job of conveying feelings through this story, I don't know why lol.
Anyways, that's all for this week! If you'd like to become part of a community, get to know me more—who wouldn't, right? I'm freaking amazing— then join the Discord Server. The code to it is written down below.
discord . gg / UBDJrXEZGv
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Ashtar29 Don't forget to comment and leave me a Power Stone. That's always appreciated! ;)
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