Harry Potter and The Other's List
The Other twisted from where he lay on the floor. His elbow smacked against the stone floor, sending shooting pains up his arm. But his room was definitely carpeted. He looked around blearily, trying to get a good look at his surroundings but finding the room blurry and out of focus.
This second thunderous sound was accompanied by a flash of pale light. The Other reached out in front of him and snatched up what felt like a pair of large, round glasses. His hands, almost as if possessed with a will of their own, quickly shoved then against a nose much smaller than it should have been. The inside of a dingy hut snapped into focus.
The third boom was accompanied by a tremendous splintering sound. The door of the small shack fell to the floor with a crash. A massive silhouette filled the entire doorway. The Other realized that a deep and angry voice was yelling from somewhere behind him.
"I'm warning you, I'm armed!" The figure in the doorway seemed unimpressed by the angry man's words and stepped through the doorway, pausing only to lift the door easily back into place.
"Don't suppose you could fix a cuppa tea do y'? Only it's been a bit o' a rough journey." Silence filled the shack. The entire scene seemed awfully familiar to The Other; he knew it back to front. But this was impossible. This couldn't be real.
"Budge up yer great lump." The giant man had sidled across the room towards the sofa, where another large form lay. The Other's mind rebelled against what was happening before his very eyes. He must be dreaming, he thought to himself.
"And here's Harry." The man said cheerfully, looking The Other straight in the eye. The Other slowly stood to meet the giant's eye. His arms looked much skinnier than he remembered as he pushed himself to his feet. That was when it stuck him; he was far too short. He looked down to find that not only was he shorter, but looked as if he had somehow lost about ten years of growth.
"Yes you." The giant said kindly, apparently misinterpreting the shock of finding yourself inhabiting the wrong body as surprise that he had been recognized. "Or did y' think I wouldn't recognize that Potter hair of yer's" Potter The word rattled about The Other's head. 'I knew it,' he thought, 'but this can't be happening'
"I…I.." he stammered.
"An' of course yer Mum's eyes," the giant who could be none other than the Hagrid, "but you were jus' a baby when I last saw you."
"There must be some mistake." The Other managed to force out in a voice that was far higher, and possessing a British accent that his years away at college had managed to excise from his own. He clapped a hand to his mouth.
"A mistake?" Hagrid asked with a booming laugh. "Course it's not a mistake. Y' think I couldn't pick James's son out in an instant? Anyway, a very happy birthday to y' Harry. I got som'et for you 'ere." The giant man reached into one of his massive pockets and drew a small card box wrapped in a thin green ribbon. The Other peeked inside to see a cake covered in sloppily applied icing.
"I… thanks." He managed. "Do I… Do I know you?" he asked after a pregnant silence.
"Oh, acourse you won't recognize me. After all, you were just a babe when I last saw you. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Hagrid took The Other's arm and shook it mightily.
"Hogwarts?" The Other almost whispered.
"Yes, Hogwarts. That reminds me, here y' go." He withdrew a large envelope from within the depths of his coat. The Other turned it over in his hands, revealing neat, emerald green ink addressing the letter to Harry Potter.
"This isn't possible." The Other started before being cut off by a harsh bark from the corner of the room. the man who could only be Vernon Dursley stood shaking, the rifle in his hands held out in front of him as if to ward of the massive man.
"He's not going!" the red faced man roared. "I won't pay for some crackpot old fool to teach him magic tricks!" Exactly as The Other expected, Hagrid surged to his feet, brandishing a pink umbrella he had drawn from his overcoat.
"Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me!" Vernon shrank back from the unusually threatening umbrella and almost dropped the rifle. It shook in his hands as he tried to stutter a rebuttal to the huge man's challenge. Finally, The Other spoke up.
"Hagrid, the things on this list, where will I get any of them?" He pulled the school supplies list from the thick packet of parchment. Hagrid's angry face slowly softened as he turned towards dark haired boy. Shortly, his rage seemingly forgotten, he let loose a small chuckle.
"Why, London, o' course. I'll take you there firs' thing tomorrow morning." This upset the Dursleys something awful. But their objections where quashed harshly by Hagrid's booming voice. The Other sank slowly to the floor as the half giant argued with the large mustachioed man and his wife. The fact that they hadn't mentioned Harry being magical seemed to upset him greatly. But then it would, The Other thought, this is just like the books. He remembered reading this very conversation when he was younger. A massive hand closed around his shoulder. He almost jumped out of his skin.
"You alright?" Hagrid was looking down at him, his eyebrows drawn close over his twinkling eyes.
"Yeah, it's just a lot to take in." The Other said truthfully. It wasn't every day you woke up inside a work of fiction.
"Its prob'ly best you get some rest. It'll be a long day tomorrow. Here, you can take my coat. Don't worry if it moves a little, might be a couple a dormice in one o' the pockets." The Other accepted the great overcoat. It did indeed wriggle slightly under his grip. He nodded his head in thanks as Hagrid leaned back into the abused sofa. The Dursleys had retreated back out of the room. The Other crawled under the coat, his head awhirl. 'This can't be real.' Was his first thought, although the more he dwelt on it, the more real his situation felt. The ground below him, the warmth of the coat, it all felt more real than any mere dream he remembered. Although as he thought about it, a sinking feeling gripped him. He couldn't remember ever having dreams. But that couldn't be right, ever since he was a child he had experienced that same recurring nightmare, that one with the… But he couldn't recall what had so frightened him, only that he had torn out of his room and into the arms of his… Aunt? But why would she have comforted him, she wouldn't even have let him out of his cupboard. 'No,' he thought to himself, 'That was Harry, not me, I'm not…' The feeling of losing himself terrified him, filling him with the horrifying sensation of a sucking drain in his mind. Then, suddenly gripped by the singular desire to hold on, he began scrabbling in the pockets of Hagrid's coat. Surely he had to have, yes here it was. The Other pulled a very crumpled but thankfully blank piece of parchment, a broken quill, and a cracked and dry bottle of ink. Even as memories and thoughts fled his mind, he desperately held on to a few scattered bits of information, information he, or he supposed Harry, would need. He began to whisper them under his breath, willing himself to remember as he wet the dried ink with his thumb and began to write. He wrote on even as he forgot why he was writing. At long last he fell into unconsciousness, the quill slipping from his hand while the parchment became clenched in his other fist.