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They had heard about the famous, seven book series. You'd have to live under a rock to not have, and with that, the spoilers were just as famous. However, they never truly got into it, just knew the general premise and major characters. You know, an abused orphan chosen one, a noseless bad guy, an old mentor. The standard stuff.
Even then, any normal person could realize something was wrong when they wake up looking at the underside of stairs.
The world was blurry, dark and grey. The few shadows that were cast, were from what appeared to.. be a grate on the wall? No, a door? The glow coming from it was dim, as though it came from a kitchen stove light. Where were they?
Sitting upright, they felt noticeably smaller, not only in height but also weight. Their arms―which were hard to make out in the darkened room (?) ―were so much thinner, almost to the bone. Pulling their gaze away, they tried looking around the space but everything was just so blurry. Instead, they padded their hands around the surfaces, feeling a rough mattress under them and a… what was that?
They drew both their hands to the material, a quilted blanket? It was fraying at the ends and seemed to have holes throughout it as well. Odd. They kept feeling around, up the walls, down the ceiling, trying to find anything. Because surely there had to be a light switch or a tug-light here? Although, the search was fruitless. Only gaining spider-webs on their fingers, and the small spider that wove the webs was quickly swatted off their arm when it crawled up.
Though that did nothing to deter them from trying to find a light source.
Rather quickly into the inspection of the wall behind them, their hands were stopped by a small shelf. It had sharp, plastic figures on it, and many boxes. Dust layered over all surfaces of the shelf and items except the figures, bringing them up to their eyes helped clear the blur slightly. They were toy soldiers, like the ones in Toy Story. Why were those the only things touched in this room? They were recently moved at the very least because of the lack of dust covering them. They let out a frustrated sigh, as they continued exploring the space.
This was one weird dream. Because it had to be, if not because they don’t live under stairs . Then from the body they were in. Clearly, not theirs and it wasn’t uncommon to dream as other people.
Their attention was brought back by their fingers gliding across a smooth surface, no dust so it wasn’t the bottom of the shelf. They curled their hand around it, finding the object to be… Glasses?
Hastily shoving them on their face, the world instantly cleared up. The glasses weren’t by any means good, the middle was taped together messily, almost as if a child did it. But they couldn’t help the sigh of relief, being able to properly see was greatly taken for granted.
Now, they could see the pull-cord right next to where the glasses were laying. Yanking on it caused the room to light up with a flicker, then it continued to flicker. So, a new light bulb might be needed, they’ll let whoever owns this place know.
Once they find them of course.
They push on the door, it’s locked. Oh, god, what if this is actually a nightmare and they were kidnapped or something? They smoosh their face against the door, looking through the crack of it. They can vaguely see a bolt lock, and they draw back, looking up and down the small space. Eventually they found a thin yet strong enough box lid, and ripped it off the rest of the box. Sliding it into the seam of the door, they carefully lifted it. Putting just the right amount of pressure caused the bolt lock to go up, it must’ve been old because there should be no way that worked. They guided the bolt across, and the door swung open.
Quickly, they hid the box lid under the mattress, they didn’t know if they would be caught and wanted a way out just in case.
Crawling out of the cabinet, they looked around the dim hallway. It was a simple, english house, with white intricate walls and decorations that looked like they were from the 90s. The light was coming from a glass door next to the cupboard, they carefully took the handle and opened it. It led into a kitchen, the light was from the stove. They didn’t really know what to do now. Most of the time their dreams would lead them along, not just drop them in. Maybe that’s just how lucid dreams are.
They felt their stomach growl more than they heard it, and decided that was a good place to start. After fumbling around the kitchen for a moment they were able to find vegetable oil, some bread, butter and cheese. A grilled cheese should be nice. As they cooked, it got lighter out, seeping in through the curtained windows. They faintly hummed under their breath as the motions came to them like second nature, the unsettled, guarded feeling fading with the shadows.
That is, until a hand caught their shoulder, digging the sharp nails into their flesh. They flinched immediately at contact but flinched again and more violently at the pain, causing the hot oil in the pan to splash across the side on the floor next to the figure holding their shoulder hostage. Tilting their head up they see a pale, blonde woman above them. Her icy blue eyes glaring daggers into them, despite not knowing them at all, she had a face you couldn’t forget meeting.
When the oil splattered on the wooden floor, she yelped, retracting her hand from their shoulder only leaving a throbbing pain behind. She turned back to them with an even angrier expression.
“Harry Potter! How are you out of your cupboard?! And how dare you almost burn me!”
She continued going on a tangent on how horrible they were, but they were more caught up on the name she called them. Harry Potter . That was a fictional character. This was a dream, so they supposed it could be true? They flickered their eyes across the room, landing on a mirror on a wooden shelf holding antiques.
Reflected on it was the rest of the room, including the woman and where they stood, a young boy. He had a mop of messy black hair that couldn’t possibly have ever seen a brush, along with the brightest green eyes ever. He wore the glasses they picked up from the cupboard, with the tape holding them together. He also looked exactly like the actor who played Harry Potter in the movie series when he was younger.
What was his name? D… Dennis? Danny? ..Daniel! Daniel something.
They shakily lifted their hand, ignoring the berating of the woman. Watching intently as the boy in the mirror moved with their own movements, brushing the messy locks of black hair aside, they saw… A lightning bolt scar. They let out an unsteady breath, but quickly sucked one back in when their wrist was clamped around.
Snapping their eyes back to the blonde woman, who was scowling at them. Although her expression was complex, not just of anger. She wretched their hand away from their forehead, “Listen to me when I speak to you, boy.” She hissed out at them.
This was really a weird dream.