The Glass Vanished and so did my Sanity
His vision burned bright for one split second. Then darkness. Heavy breathing filled the silence, his own laboured breaths echoing in his ears. He remained still, afraid to move, keeping his eyes closed. He lay on something vaguely soft, not overly so, but enough to cushion his entire body.
Harry opened his eyes. The darkness remained, shadows painted over every surface of the room. Harry swallowed apprehensively, reaching up his hand to feel along his side, then stopped. His hand…
Oh, Merlin, his hand was small, as in tiny, as in NOT AN ADULT'S HAND! This could not be happening, was this a spell gone wrong? Where was Ginny? Last thing he remembered was falling asleep in their bed, with his very very adult hands, thank you very much. Oh, Hermione was going to kill him. Not to mention Ginny if he found him missing. This was obviously not his bedroom; it was too cramped, although the darkness made it hard to see. Thoughts racing, he reached up, searching for something familiar, a light switch, ANYTHING.
Click. Light illuminated the room, blinding him briefly. Harry froze.
Above his prone body was a very familiar ceiling, belonging to a very familiar room. Well, cupboard to be exact. His cupboard under the stairs, which he'd last seen when he was 11 years old. Oh, Merlin, no. This could not be happening, noooo, nope, definitely not. He was dreaming, obviously, because there could not possibly be ANY OTHER EXPANATION! RIGHT?
"Up! Get up! Now!"
And that was definitely not Aunt Petunia because he hadn't seen Aunt Petunia for years now, and this is all a dream, and not real and, la la la. LA LA LA LA.
The mysterious person who was not Aunt Petunia banged on the door again. "Up!" This must be a dream.
Harry sat up, pulling a well-worn shirt towards him. It was worn, oversized, and would obviously not fit an 11-year-old Harry. If this was a dream, then surely, he could will it to his size. Harry tried to will the shirt to become smaller. The shirt did not comply.
"Are you up yet?" not!Aunt Petunia had retuned. Well, if she would continue to bother him, then Harry would just have to play along. For now.
Harry ignored her and continued getting dressed, consumed with racing thoughts of confusion. Fading footsteps indicated that she had left, heading to where the kitchen would be, if he really was at Number 4 Privet Drive. Which he wasn't, because that was not possible, and extremely inconvenient.
Harry eased the door open, peeking out into the hallway. It was just as he remembered. He crept to the kitchen mildly, no, majorly creeped out. He stood in the door way for probably a beat too long – long enough for Uncle Vernon to take notice. No, not!Uncle Vernon. "Well, where's my breakfast, boy!" not!Unlce Vernon bellowed, sitting round the kitchen table, filled with obnoxiously coloured presents. Was it Dudley's birthday? Urgh.
Harry stepped forward into the kitchen, moving into the familiar steps of preparing breakfast, just as he used to do. He moved in a trance, absently putting bacon onto plates, and setting them on the already full table.
Not!Dudley strode into the room, excitement clear on his face. Harry personally thought he looked crazed, for an 11-year-old. He zoned out again, sitting at the table and absently eating his bacon. He always was a good cook; Ginny seemed to think so.
It was only when the bell rang that Harry snapped back to attention. In walked a rat faced boy, whose name Harry didn't care to remember. This was Dudley's birthday, so… they were going to the zoo. If this was a dream, then maybe Harry could avoid the hassle of the snake fiasco this time. Then again it was kinda funny; Merlin knew that Harry needed cheering up right now.
After a very uncomfortable ride to the zoo, sandwiched between his not!cousin and said not!cousin's friend. The adults were complaining about hooligans or whatever.
At the zoo itself, Harry had managed to get himself a lemon ice lolly, much to the not!Dursley's chagrin – which tasted very nice, by the way, probably thanks to Dumbledore's constant obsession with Sherbet Lemons, to which Harry himself had taken a liking to. Then, it was reptile time. Hopefully this should be interesting.
"It's not moving." Harry's not!cousin was complaining, before moving along to the next enclosure and leaving Harry all alone. Finally.
"This isn't real," Harry started, "I mean, it couldn't possible be real, because its already happened."
The snake started at him, as if it was listening – which it was, but only Harry knew that. Thanks, Tom.
"Do you every get bored? Y'know having to be stared at all day? I'd be bored, and I know what its like to be stared at. Boy Who Lived and all that Chosen One stuff – not fun."
The snake lifted his head, but before it could do anything (like speak, for example) Dudley's rat faced friend let out a shout. Harry rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming.
"LOOK DUDLEY, ITS MOVING!" The rat faced friend (probably a smaller and thinner version of Wormtail, now that Harry thought about it) exclaimed. Harry manoeuvred out of the way, avoiding Dudley's elbows.
"MUM, DAD, LOOK ITS –" Dudley cut himself off, falling forward face first into the enclosure itself. The glass was gone, like last time, but this was new. Well, Harry mused, he did not expect that. The snake slithered out, sliding past Harry with a smirk (could snakes smirk?). "Thankss." Harry smiled cheerfully, not surprised by this in the slightest.
Aunt Petunia screamed – Dudley was stuck inside the exhibit, soaking wet and sobbing pitifully. Harry felt only slightly bad, but well, it was kind of funny. Obviously, Harry would be blamed, locked in the cupboard with no meals, but overall, it was a good day.
It took about an hour to get Dudley out, wrap him in a towel and for the staff to apologise profusely. Everyone was treated with tea, much to Harry delight.
Back in the car, Dudley finally pointed fingers. "Harry was talking to it – and it was moving!" Uncle Vernon gave him the evil eyes in the mirror. Harry just smiled sheepishly.
Just as he predicted, he was locked in the cupboard when they arrived back home. Harry expected no less from. It was then he realised that he had begun calling the Dursleys their actual names in his head. Could this be real? It certainly feels real. Well if it was real, then maybe Harry could do it all again, just better this time.
Before he fell asleep, he noticed a note, taped to the wall beside his bed. As far as he could remember, this was not there last time around. Harry peeled it off and unfolded it.
See you at Hogwarts. Good Luck.
Harry paused. It was real. And someone else was here too.
