Chapter Text
Before he knew about the Upside Down, Will would spend hours in the forests around his house. He can recall hazy memories of being young and wandering among familiar maple and oak trees with his brother, pretending they were on a quest to find some grand treasure. They'd spend hours exploring before heading home. Jonathan would wrestle him out of mud-covered boots, while he'd excitedly show his mother whatever pretty acorn or colorful leaf they'd found in the woods that day. She would smile at him, often the only time she'd smile that day, and place it on the table; it would be gone by the time his father came home.
After the spring, his father left, and they built the fort. He'd instead spend his days filling it with art and comics, then blankets when fall came around, to keep out the chill. Instead of his brother, he'd go with his friends. Exploring the various forest paths and backwater roads on their bikes, naming them after places in their favorite fantasy books like they were travelers exploring a new world.
Before he knew about the Upside Down, Will used to love living next to the forest; he loved its colors in the fall, when looking out the window felt like watching a moving painting. There was comfort in how effortlessly he could hide in its vastness; the forest, and later the fort, was a home to him as much as his house was.
After…
When he destroyed Castle Byers in a burst of emotion in the pouring rain, it was the first time he set foot in a forest alone since he was dragged into the Upside Down three years ago.
It's almost funny how the fear that haunted him for years and kept him compulsively checking his surroundings was so easily dismissed when he was distracted enough.
It wasn't until they were packing away their lives into boxes that he came across it, 'it' being a small shoebox full of brittle acorns and half-crumbled leaves. There were some photos of him and Jonathan in the forest that he kept, but the rest were tipped outside. A couple of acorns dropped out first, then the remaining pieces of leaf and dust floated away on the wind.
It should feel symbolic, leaving old memories behind as they move on to someplace new, but Will was too tired to care. He dumped the empty box in one of the many garbage bags in the house and got back to packing.
They're moving on, whether he's ready or not.
𓂃✍︎
Dear Hermoine
I'm sorry
Sorry I haven't been able to write recently. Sirius has been keeping us busy cleaning up the house. Though it's not as bad as our old place, between it and muggle school, it's still taking up most of the day.
School is fine, some new kids arrived halfway through term, otherwise it's been very dull. I don't miss constantly being in danger, but at least the subjects at Hogwarts were interesting; this feels like a six-hour History of Magic lesson, undead teacher and all. Why can't I be there with you? Is this really the safest option?
You'll be pleased to hear that I'm still keeping up with my education. I've got really good at disguising books so I can read them in class. Sirius has been helping with the more practical stuff; he's hoping to convert the cellar into a potions room so we don't have to keep using the hob.
Living with Sirius has been unexpectedly nice, after what happened at he's doing a lot better now that he's out of Grimmauld Place. He seems to actually like spending time with me, and when I come home from school, he always looks happy to see me. It's nice to live with someone who doesn't actively hate my presence.
How are you? How are the NEWT classes coming along? I hope you aren't making Ron studying too hard. Don't strain yourself.
How is Ginny? Can she still play Quidditch?
How are Luna and Neville? Are they out of the hospital yet?
Has Ron woken up yet?
"Shit," he mutters, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. Breathing slowly, Harry wills the shaking in his hands to subside. He feels something soft brush his arm and quickly yanks the letter out of reach of his snowy owl's beak.
"No, Hedwig, we're not sending this one either," Harry murmurs when she blinks at him with wide amber eyes. Stroking her feather consolingly, he rereads the letter, stopping when his trembling hand turns the words into meaningless lines.
Sighing, he folds the letter and slides it into the drawer with the rest of his failed attempts.