Harry peered at Draco from behind the bookshelf in the library. Time to find out what that nasty Slytherin's up to, he thought maliciously. He could see the blonde boy twirling his wand in the air and muttering. The book he was reading had the Alchemist's Star on the cover, and Harry briefly wondered how Draco had gotten access to the Forbidden section. He'd probably bribed someone. The Slytherin's back was facing him, and Harry was going to have to creep closer to be able to see what knowledge the book contained. Harry tiptoed closer to him, and stepped on a roll of parchment. He didn't have time to curse himself; mainly because Draco did it for him. Upon hearing the crumple of the paper, he had whirled around and sent a blast of lightning straight at Potter. The Gryffndor took the blow straight in the chest. Harry saw the world spin in circles around him, and he blacked out.
When he came to, Harry was lying on a bed. The evening events came rushing to his head. The hospital wing? No, he corrected himself, this was nothing like the place he had unluckily visited so many times before; the walls were made of dark stone, and there were no windows. The beds here (there were roughly ten of them) had distasteful green and black bedding, and the rug on the floor shared the odd colors. What is this place? Harry thought. He sat up and turned his head to the snoring masses in the other beds. There's no way I slept through that, Harry thought, bewildered. He couldn't see the faces in the beds, so he stood up. He looked down at his clothes. It was the same school uniform he'd been wearing last night, except for one thing: It's was a Slytherin's uniform. Green and silver tie, emerald piping on his robes, the slytherin coat of arms embedded on the sweater, the whole package. What kind of sick joke is this? Harry fumed silently.
Without thinking, he put and hand on his head to shovel through his messy hair, and his mouth fell open as he realized it wasn't there. For half a second, he thought whatever jinx Malfoy had put on him had made him go bald, until he felt his fingers graze a soft, downy surface. He sighed in relief. His hair did feel a bit greasy, though, as if it had been slicked back. Harry took a deep breath. I'm sure this is all just a dream, he assured himself. He forced himself to walk around the room, trying to find an exit (although, he wasn't looking very hard). He put his finger to the bridge of his nose, and realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, either. Maybe he accidentally healed me instead of cursing me, he smirked. He went back over to the bed, maybe to search for a key or other. All of a sudden, Harry caught a reflection of platinum blond hair off a mirror on the nightstand to the right of the mattress. He looked behind him, wary of someone watching him paw through the comforter. Seeing no one, he cautiously peered over the mirror.
The face that stared back at him made him jump back in shock, and he hit the floor with a loud thud.
The face that had returned his gaze was Draco Malfoy's.