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Alaric opened his eyes to the sound of the morning call. Sharp shadows cast by the curtains that framed the window started to fade at the onset of daylight and the warm sunlight slipped through the small gaps in between, streaks of yellow creeping their way toward the wild and unkempt bundle of black.
He turned his body heavily as the light brushed against his eyes. His bed sank under his weight, tempting him with whispers of comfort. Yet he groaned as his mind refused to rest, the draining comfort finally convincing him to untangle himself from the blankets. Rising slowly from his small bed, he waited for the rest of his body to shake away the daze of sleep. A single later, the press of a button silenced the tiresome but effective ringing of the alarm clock by his side.
Stepping into his slippers, Alaric headed to the bathroom for his morning routine, automatically unbuttoning and shedding his pyjamas along the way and depositing the items in the hamper for the house elves to pick up and launder later.
Suddenly, he froze— raven hair dishevelled and body nearly naked as he paused in surprise. His previous thought rang inside his mind, an innocent one he might have otherwise overlooked had it not felt so glaringly wrong.
Since when had house elves become real?
For a moment, he stood frozen alone in the small room, which he somehow knew belonged to him, before he slowly brought a strangely small hand to his face, touching his temple as it throbbed in agony.
A finely made wardrobe stood on his right coated with lacquer in the shade of vibrant purple, the sole piece of furniture atop the beautiful rug he stood upon. A carpet covered most of the room, bearing moving embroideries of dragons soaring around each other in tight spirals.
He strangely recognised everything, yet could not remember why at the same time—that single moment of disorientation soon ended as he felt his fists tighten at his side, eyes wide as a thousand emotions cursed through his mind.
It was a numbing experience more intense than any he had previously felt, as all the strange details started recontextualising themselves. His skin was paler than he remembered, the dark tan that he had previously obtained through several outdoor pursuits replaced by a pale white, and even the feel of his own hands seemed unreal— the rough calluses of his palm that he had grown used to were now replaced by pristine, unblemished skin.
It was the sound of a single respectful knock that tore him from his thoughts, and he froze once again as a squeaky voice called out, "Is Master Alaric all right?"
He slowly glanced towards the door and found himself unable to answer as the room slowly started to spin around him, words suddenly stuck in his throat as he found himself unable to answer.
The thought of venturing out into the unknown alongside the mixture of anticipation and fear in him was so great that it was all he could do to remain standing, anticipation extinguished by the strange situation he had found himself in. The strongest instinct known to man since his creation came bearing down upon him, his head once again ringing with the fading echoes of reminiscent memories he could not recall as something inside of him surged— a force he could neither understand nor name that enveloped his whole body in a comforting embrace.
A tug on his navel accompanied by an unseen force squeezing his body, was all he could remember before he closed his eyes and blacked out.
He once again opened his eyes in a comfortable bed, its soft white cushions tempting him to sink in and lay there for a moment longer, even as whispers of echoing memories rang inside his head. He finally remembered everything.
Alaric winced as he reluctantly rose from the bed despite the tightness of the white sheets that had tucked him in, and glanced downwards at the weight against his chest which held him in place— the thick bandages and plasters which bound almost every part of his body.
Alaric almost lurched, barely suppressing the gasp that threatened to escape him as he averted his eyes to calm his racing mind and glanced down at himself. He was wearing a light green hospital gown that someone must have changed him into while he slept, and had multiple tubes sticking out of each arm.
"You've awakened faster than I expected, dear," A female voice called out as the door to his right opened and a woman adorned in the standard Healer's uniform entered the room, the symbol of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries proudly sewn on her blue robes.
"Why am I here?" He rasped, somehow managing to form words despite his aching throat, even as the woman took out a pointed stick from her sleeve and started waving it all over him with a small frown etched on her face.
A wand, he instinctively understood— accepting the situation that would've shaken the hearts of the stoutest men with surprising ease, the paralysing surprise quickly tempered by the fragmented memories of this world that continued to relentlessly echo inside his mind.
"It was accidental magic, a botched apparition at that," The healer answered, misunderstanding his question as she finally placed her wand back in its rightful place and nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Using such magic inside a warded location is dangerous even for adult wizards in controlled environments, it's surprising that you somehow managed to teleport away almost all of yourself."
Well, that explained why he was in a hospital but the fact gave him more questions than he originally had, a myriad of thoughts that would have almost overwhelmed him once again if not for the woman speaking up once again.
"Fortunately, your internal organs remained mostly intact, and the rest of the damage was nothing we couldn't fix in a day or two." The woman rummaged through her pockets for a moment before taking out two corked vials which were clearly far too large for her pockets, and shoving them into his hands, "Now, be a good boy and gobble them up properly,"
Alaric looked at the two in his hands, frowning in distaste when he saw the sickly green liquid inside which released a strange odour even through the sealed glass. He understood that they were most probably potions meant to heal his broken body, but a small part of him that refused to understand logic could not help but make a face at the thought of consuming something so distasteful.
It was only when the woman raised a brow at his hesitation that he finally raised one of the vials and drank its contents in a single go, the taste of petrol and cabbage almost making him retch as the dense potion slowly flowed down his throat.
"Your grandfather is waiting downstairs. The poor old man was beside himself with worry," The woman nodded when he had finished doing the same to the second one, taking back the vials and waving her wand over him once again before she stood up once again, "He should be done with the paperwork in a moment or two, so he'll be here soon."
Alaric remembered his manners and thanked the woman as she went outside, probably to check the other patients, leaving him alone in the plain white room thatreminded him of hospitals he had seen before with nothing but questions and his imagination alone to answer them.
For minutes, he just lay there— staring up at the roof above as he tried to collect his jumbled thoughts, not that he could have done anything else even if he had wanted to. He did not even have enough strength to stand on his own, let alone move and walk outside.
He did not even bother trying to delude himself with pretences of this being nothing but a dream, for as ludicrous as the situation may have appeared, everything felt all too real for it to be one. He took pride in being a logical person even under the most illogical of circumstances, so he did not try to make up excuses to deny reality.
So as absurd as it was, he forced himself to face the obvious truth— not that he could have done anything else otherwise, the memories burning at the back of his head would not let him do so.
He had been reborn. Awakened his previous memories, to be more precise— into a new world at that, one that was supposed to be just fiction and fantasy.
Alaric tried hard not to think about what this might mean. He had been a happy man before his eventual death, having done everything he had ever set out to do. It had ended before he could complete all his dreams but that did not mean he had to repeat everything again. This was another chance that he was fortunate enough to receive and he wanted to do something else with this second life, something more.
What would be the point otherwise?
But his thoughts about the future were unceremoniously shoved into the back of his mind when the door to his room opened once again, revealing an old man dressed in meticulously pristine robes whose purple eyes softened when they landed upon him. He recognised the older man, a reminiscent fondness he could not put into words surging through his very being at the sight of the older man whose messy greying locks so closely resembled his own. The loud beats of his heart somehow calmed down, instinctively knowing that everything would be fine now that this man was here.
"Bouts of uncontrolled magic can be frightening, and I imagine having one as violent as yours must not be pleasant," The older man stated, the concern in his eyes all too apparent as he walked up to his bedside and reached out to gently to brush a hand through his dishevelled raven locks. "I hope that the nurses here have not given you much trouble. Are you alright now, Alaric?"
"Not completely, but the healer here says that I would soon be," He slowly answered, unable to control the small grin that broke across his face at the sight of his grandfather.
The warm emotions surging through his heart were not completely foreign to him— they had been a constant companion during rare occasions in his previous world when he laughed alongside his father or embraced his mother, breaking the chains of uncertainty that had clouded his mind before.
"They say that you can be released before this evening," The older man finally spoke, raising his eyebrows suggestively, "I wager nothing would cheer you up more than a chocolate pudding to celebrate your first bout of magic. I think that your grandmother has truly outdone herself this time."
Alaric could not help it, a wide grin broke across his bandaged face even as excitement welled up inside of him.
It's been a long time since I've read the original books, so forgive me if I make any mistakes. This is my first OC story and my first Harry Potter fanfiction.
Thanks for reading.