I was reading a fanfiction, in which Snape vanished something from a cauldron. And it set me to thinking: where does it all go? And then, of course, I had an image of the junk yard from the Labyrinth, and I had to write it. It took me all of five minutes, so it's not exactly a masterpiece, but I like it nonetheless. Enjoy.
Wizards vanish things all the time. It's a simple spell: evanesco. They do it with the ease that Muggles toss a wrapper in the trash as they walk by. They don't think of where the things are banished to. It is a place, if it can be called that, that has been theorized by Muggle physicists, has been debated and decried.
It's a place that really shouldn't exist, made for things that people don't want to exist anymore.
The entire area, which stretches on further than one can see or walk, is a mess. Hundreds of millions of litres of potions gone wrong, dripping slowly off of battered furniture. There's an astrolabe there, a few dozen wands. Crystal balls and homework assignments, the parchment stained blue or green or purple or some combination of all the colours from the potions. It smells. Potions aren't designed to taste good, and they don't smell good either.
It's just a junk heap, the trash pile of the Wizarding world.
And in the midst of it, a boy. Black hair, clouded emerald eyes. A scar peaking out of his fringe.
He sits in the midst of the garbage, of the discarded broomsticks and mirrors and a rusting motorcycle. This is his place. He sits upon a two legged chair like a king, surveying his realm. A serpent encircles his arm, hissing. The boy hisses back.
This is the place for those who are unwanted. For the things that no longer serve a purpose. The garbage, the trash, the things that aren't worth keeping any longer.
And, for the first time in his life, Harry Potter feels at home.