Hey there! This is a new fanfiction I'm working on. I hope you guys will enjoy, and please let me know what you think in the reviews. 3 This is unbeta'd but if anyone with knowledge of Supernatural and Harry Potter wish to Beta this for me, just let me know! This first chapter is short, but the rest are longer.
When Dean Winchester woke up, he knew straight away that something was very wrong. It wasn't the fact that his bed felt like it had gotten thinner and made of cement, or the fact that he couldn't feel the impression of his gun though his not-there pillow.
No, it was the dull headache in the back of his head and the feeling as if his entire body had gone through a dryer and had shrunk down several sizes. Very, very slowly Dean opened his eyes and saw… nothing.
Everything was black, and blurry if that made any sense. Slowly, Dean started to sit up, suddenly surprised when his head made contact with the top of whatever it was that he was being held it. Holding in a few curses, Dean rubbed his forehead.
He reached out as far as his arms could go, which for some reason (probably to do with the shrinking feeling) wasn't very far at all. However, he managed to find something that seemed to substitute as a bed-side table.
There was something sitting on it that felt small, circular and smooth, except for what felt like rough tape around the middle. Dean frowned – that wasn't glasses, was it? He moved on from them, and found something else sitting there. A flash-light!
He grabbed it, trying his best to ignore how big it felt in his hand, and then turned it on. Finally, he could see what kind of freak had him captive and where he was.
However, what he saw was something else entirely. Dean's eyes widened a fraction, "The hell?" he muttered, making his eyes widen even further. His voice was squeaky, high pitch and overall young. Dean shook his head, looking down at his hands now in the light of the flash light.
They were tiny.
He was tiny and locked in what appeared to be a broom closet.
"What the hell?" he repeated, quietly.
He very slowly slid off of the bed – or a poor excuse at one – and stood on his tiny legs. Damn, he thought looking down at himself, he was a kid! Oh great - this was perfect.
Dean shone the torch at the cupboard door, carefully making his way to it. He grabbed the fuzzy handle and tried it. Much as he suspected, it was locked. Well, if there was one thing Dean was certain of (and in this situation that was lacking) was that kid or not, he could pick any lock.
It didn't take too long for him to find a loose nail in the tiny cupboard, and quickly started working on the lock.
It unlocked. He held his breath as the door slowly opened, and annoyingly giving a squeak. Once he could see out there, Dean realised that those glasses were in fact for him. Which made zero sense - he never needed glasses as a kid. Maybe what ever did this made him need glasses? What would the point be?
Either way, Dean grabbed the glasses, shoving them onto his face and was immediately greated by clear vision. Clearer, anyway, no where near what Dean was used to.
The glasses were heavy on his face, and felt like they were going to fall off at any second. He could not wait to stick a bullet into the thing that did this.
He slowly exited the cupboard that he saw was located under the stairs? What kind of holding place was this? If he was being held captive then why wasn't there any guards or something? What the hell was going on?
Dean quickly got his answer, passing a china cabinet.
He looked into it, trying to work out why he was locked up in a perfectly normal if not borderline-creepy-normal house, and was who surprised at who he saw. Ok, he knew something was up with him since he was small and his voice higher. It didn't take a genius to work out he was a kid again.
So it wasn't that much of a shock to see a 10 year old kid staring back - however, the fact that the kid was super skinny, with bright green eyes and raven black hair? That called for surprise.
Dean had never seen that kid before, yet somehow he was him?
Suddenly, there was a squeak of a lose floor board on the staircase, and footsteps. A surge of panic surged into Dean, along with the though, gotta get back in the cupboard before they see me out.
Dean practically moved on auto pilot, rushing back to the cupboard, and shutting and re-locking the small door behind him before the footsteps made it halfway down the staircase. It only took a moment longer than it should have for Dean to realise what the hell just happened.
"Did I just run back to a cupboard I was locked in when I heard someone coming?" he muttered to himself, "And I was panicked?"
The empty cupboard held no answers.