Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Forgive any typographical errors and point them out for rectification.
Prologue: Waking Up
A shrill noise could be heard in the distance. It was not unlike the sound made by a teapot when the water has boiled and the steam is straining to get out. The noise was faint but there was an ominous feeling about it.
Out in the woods, a solitary figure was walking alone beneath the starlit sky. The crescent moon very faintly lit up the way in front of him. This boy- or was it a man- had a mop of jet black hair and two green eyes behind his round spectacles.
Those eyes that usually were as sharp as emeralds had lost their shine and now all that remained were two murky orbs fading behind the glasses. He was walking without any sense of purpose, without any destination. To anyone who set eyes on the fellow, his walk was one of defeat, one of surrender. His walk was that of a man who had just lost everything.
As if to bring him out of this walk of shame, the tree trunks ahead of him began to transform. Each tree transforming to someone he knew– friends, teachers, acquaintances, family. He couldn't see them distinctly in the moonlight but their voices cut sharply through the still night air as each of them spoke to him one after the other.
"Hey man, wake up! You're gonna miss breakfast.''
"Today, we shall move on to transfiguring teacups.''
"Dude, look at that ass!''
"I could kill for some more of that treacle tart.''
The shrill noise that had been ringing in his ears suddenly picked up. Leaves nearby began to rustle, disturbing the air. But still the torrent of voices kept on coming.
"There is a prophecy.''
"Without your father's money, who are you?''
"Curious! Very curious!''
"I'll take the firebolt.''
"Your mudblood mother begged for her life.''
The noise was now so loud it was threatening to explode his eardrums. In the distance, a strong wind began to blow. A few branches snapped. But amidst all this the voices were still kept on coming.
"A seeker's only concern is the snitch.''
"You are my treadstone to immortality.''
"You will beg me to take you, Weasley.''
"You are a Marauder and we all are so proud of you.''
As the ringing reached its crescendo, chaos reigned all around. Trees groaned against the howling wind and many were uprooted. Leaves and branches flew around. The storm drowned all other sounds. The voices disappeared but not before he heard the last two words,
"Mischief Managed.''
before his consciousness faded away.
His eyes flew open and his senses started coming back. He was lying on a bed drenched in cold sweat. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about. Leaving that for the moment he looked around to see where he was. His vision was blurry and he couldn't make out the shapes around him.
However, he was sure of one thing. It was neither his dorm room nor his home. It –
But before he could think about anything else, he suddenly remembered what had happened. What he had said, what he had lost.
An ocean of guilt and desperation washed over him. All the air went out of him at once, he felt as though all his surroundings were being compressed around him. He felt the full weight of his actions. Wishing that he was dead, Harry Potter screamed in anguish and cried his way into darkness.
Once again, Harry Potter woke up in a bed he didn't recognise. He did not immediately open his eyes. His senses started materializing like bubbles surfacing in a deep ocean. But it wasn't as fast and sharp as usual. He was feeling groggy and could feel sleep pulling him into her outstretched arms once again. But this time he resisted.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The brightness was blinding. He blinked twice but still everything remained out of focus. He slowly remembered something about his glasses and tried to reach out to where the bedside stand would be. But strangely something tugged at his wrist and prevented him from reaching out.
From somewhere to the side of his head, a device began pinging at regular intervals.
Resigning himself to the lack of his glasses, he resorted to his other faculties and let them take control.
His touch told him that he was in a bed- not posh but comfortable. He sniffed twice with his nostrils trying to discern any familiar smells. The air was pretty sterile but he got a few different smells. He knew most but couldn't place them. Like everything else around him, his brain was a little foggy.
From somewhere to his front, he heard the sound of a door opening. He saw the door open and someone enter. It was like seeing through a translucent membrane. For the brief instant that the door was open, a multitude of sounds rushed into the room together. Harry felt as though someone was blowing a foghorn in his ear. But then the door closed and it all stopped.
He saw the woman come towards him. Somewhere he felt a little scared. She stopped at his side. He felt the cold touch of his glasses as the woman placed them on his face.
Harry blinked twice and everything started coming into focus. He was in a room where everything was white.
The ceiling, the walls, the door, the floor, the bed and the bedsheet- all white. Next his gaze went on to the person hovering beside him. It was a woman clad in white robes. She had a kind face and dark hair with flecks of grey in it.
She opened her mouth and spoke in a kind voice,"How are you feeling?''
Harry thought a little and then said," Confused.''
The woman put a hand to his shoulder. Her touch was soft yet reassuring.
"It's alright.'' She smiled at him. "It's just the sedatives. They make you feel all groggy. They are not out of your system yet. Give them a few more hours. Maybe you should get some more sleep. Next time you wake things will be clearer.''
He wanted to tell her what he thought of "some more sleep'' but as soon as he heard the words sleep, his eyelids got heavy and once again he felt himself being dragged into unconsciousness.
His head dropped to one side and he fell asleep again. But not before he had seen his hand.
His hand.
His hand lying beside him.
His hand lying beside him handcuffed to the edge of the bed.
Harry Potter: Identity
