1 Coma

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July 29, 1990, 8:32 AM

*

Pain.

It filled every nook and cranny of my skull, causing me to wake up with a start. My breath hitched in my throat as I became acutely aware of my pulse beating from behind my eyes like a bass drum.

I fumbled for my sheets, forcing myself up with a groan. Light pierced past my eyes, causing me to squint.

'Where the hell am I?'

My heart hammered against my ribs as the severity of the situation hit me like a rushing train. My head swam as I stood to my feet and my eyes sought out the bed I'd rested on.

Spots danced before my eyes as I clutched my head. Something glinted from the edges of my vision and I could barely make out the misty blue runes. I began to hear a satanic sounding chanting that slowly rose to a crescendo.

A large, stygian dragon growled at me, surveying me with cold, predatory eyes that held within them a spark of intelligence.

It roared, releasing a torrent of flames that blinded me before engulfing me whole.

'How long was I playing last night?'

I squeezed my throbbing eyes shut, the chanting fading away. 'A bit too long, it seems.' I pushed the thought away as I peered around myself, noticing my unfamiliar surroundings.

'This isn't my room…'

Ice cold fear rushed through my veins causing me to gasp. I felt it coil its way down my spine as I stumbled, leaning against the wall for support.

I forced myself to take lungfuls of air.

'There we go. Deep breaths. As good old Terry Silver says: a man can't breathe, he can't fight.'

I let out a dry, humourless laugh. 'I can still make jokes in a situation like this, huh. I guess all's not lost.'

Forcing my stray thoughts aside, I set my jaw, forcing myself to look at the situation logically.

"So, what do I kno—!" I choked, my words dying on my lips as a familiar cold sensation began to worm its way into my chest.

'That's not my voice, it's way too high! Oh God, it can't be…'

Fearing the worst, my eyes darted around the room. 'There has to be a mirror somewhere in this god damned room.'

Blinking at the perso— no, child in front of me, I raised a shaking hand, my heart dropping as I brought it to my face.

'This is me? Did I steal this kid's body?'

I swallowed the lump in my throat hesitantly. 'No, no, don't think of it like that.' That was a can of worms I didn't want to open right now. I chose to ignore the thought in favour of looking at my appearance.

I was young, no older than eleven or twelve. I had glossy black hair and dusky brown skin but it was really my eyes that stole my breath. They were a pale, almost translucent blue with flecks of orange scattered between my pupils and sclera. I had— no, he had so much to live for…

'And you entered his body and killed him?' The unbidden thought made me shiver as the hairs on the nape of my neck rose. I clenched my fists, hot tears pricking the sides of my eyes.

'What the fuck?! I didn't ask for any of this! I go to sleep after playing Skyrim and wake up in a child's body, what the hell even happened to the kid?!'

I flinched, whirling around at the sudden opening of the door behind me. In stepped a dumpy old woman. Her cold grey eyes narrowed once she saw me, as if I were no more than a pile of shit on the pavement.

'Lovely, ten seconds in and there's already someone who hates me.'

"With me boy." she snapped. She stalked over and grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me out of the door.

I suppressed a wince. 'Well, she isn't my biggest fan.' I snorted, prompting her to grip my wrist tighter, causing me to hiss.

She led me down multiple hallways and up a set of winding stairs, finally coming to a stop releasing her hold on me once we reached a solid wooden door. "There's someone who wants to see you."

I paused. Our little journey had given me time to process my disorderly thoughts on my all-too-sudden transmigration. Although I felt horrible that I quite possibly murdered a child, moping would get me nowhere and it'd be far better for me to make the most of my life.

And with that, she turned on her heel, walking down the stairs with thundering footfalls. I stretched a tentative hand towards the door handle, pausing once I felt the cold steel beneath my palm.

My mouth dried up, a solemn weight settled in the depths of my stomach. 'What's the worst that could happen, right?' I weighed up my options for a moment before deciding to push open the door.

"Hello there!" said a voice. It was cheerful, as if a bright summer's day was given human form.

I looked around in search of the voice, my eyebrows rising upwards once I found them.

"Greetings, my name is Filius Flitwick. I'm a Professor at Hogwarts, a boarding school for gifted children such as yourself." he said, fixing his glasses upon his face before handing me an envelope.

The embers of a half dead dream slowly began to ignite as I accepted the letter with shaking hands.

*

Mr A. Dovahkiin

Second floor, furthermost room to the right

Blackgate Orphanage

Maidstone, Kent

*

'Of all the stupid, cliché things that could happen!' I sighed in exasperation. Flitwick, mistaking it for relief, began to chuckle. 'Being the Dragonborn is all nice and dandy but I hope to all that I hold dear that this is the Harry Potter world and the Harry Potter world alone…'

My name, however, posed a very serious question. Who brought me to this world and for what purpose?

'Honestly, to go as far as making me the Dragonborn is suspicious to say the least…'

I pondered for a few moments longer before realising that there was nothing I could do.

'Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that I have the same name from my previous life.'

Deciding on a course of action, I schooled my features, turning the letter over, noticing a purple wax seal emblazoned with a coat of arms. On it was a lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle that were surrounding a fancily drawn 'H'.

"Open the letter, Mr Dovahkiin." he said, distracting me from my daydream.

I complied, skimming through the letter absentmindedly.

'Which way do I go with this?' I played with various options before deciding to pretend to be the ignorant orphan. Amidst this, my thoughts returned to the child whose life I stole, even more so now that I found out he was magical.

'I swear that I'll live a life that both you and I can be proud of. I resolved. But for now, there's this…'

I pushed the thought away, deliberating for a moment on how to approach the situation— the clueless orphan would have to do.

"Magic is real?!" I exclaimed, excitement lilting my voice.

'I'm not faking my excitement, just… not being completely honest.'

Flitwick chuckled, twirling his magnificent moustache between his fingers. "Indeed it is, Mr Dovahkiin. Would you like a demonstration?"

I nodded wordlessly, my eyes shining as he took out a long piece of wood— his wand, out of his sleeve.

He hummed, looking around the room, a pensive expression adorning his face. "What to use…"

A moment later, he twirled his wand; a thick, hardback book rising from its shelf and floating over towards me.

My mouth gaped as I prodded the book with my finger, the tome quivering in the air. 'Can he do that indefinitely or is there a limit?' I wondered before I was brought back to reality by Flitwick.

"Will that be sufficient enough for you?" he asked, smiling at my spellbound expression, the book still afloat in front of me.

'Should I ask for more demonstrations?' I swallowed, deciding against it before nodding at hi

m. "Good," he began, stretching his hand up towards me. "Now grab on. We must proceed with haste, Mr Dovahkiin! There is much to do."

I grasped his hand, the world expanding and shrinking around me. I felt a stifling pressure squeezing me from all sides as I held onto what I thought to be Professor Flitwick's hand for dear life.

'It feels like I'm being pushed through a keyhole!'

Suddenly, the hazardous journey came to a stop, my feet slamming onto the cobblestone ground. I took a moment to catch my breath before I felt bile rise up my throat. I retched, falling onto my hands and knees as Flitwick patted my back sympathetically.

"You get used to apparition the more you do it." he said softly.

'It doesn't make this any better.' I thought, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.

Flitwick gazed at me and then the sick on the floor. Wrinkling his nose, he waved his wand, vanishing the pool of vomit as well as the remains of it on my clothes.

'That's one useful spell.'

Once the nausea had ebbed away, I stood up shakily.

Looking up, my breath stopped as I found myself transported back to the 16th century. The Baroque and Elizabethan architecture surrounding me was a clear indication as to where I was.

'It's real. It's actually real!' I failed to suppress the smile that drew itself across my face.

"Welcome, Mr Dovahkiin," said Flitwick, his eyes glimmering. "To Diagon Alley!"

*

oOOOo

*

Getting outfitted wasn't the most pleasant experience, especially once my orphan status came to light. The pitying stares and the none-too-sincere condolences did nothing but increase my irritation.

Though it wasn't enough to hamper my excitement at getting my wand. Once again on the cobblestone streets of the alley, I trailed behind Professor Flitwick, gazing at the stalls and shops selling bizarre contraptions and potions.

"Professor?" I said over the hubbub of the alley.

"Hm?" he turned to me, his eyebrow raised in question.

"What subject do you teach?"

"Charms, Mr Dovahkiin." he began. "It's quite the intriguing branch of magic that allows the caster to imbue certain properties onto objects and people"

"It sounds interesting." I supplied, eliciting an appreciative chuckle from the Charms Master.

"Indeed it is, Mr Dovahkiin." he said, stopping in front of a shop. "Now, here's a sum of seven Galleons, enough to buy your wand. I shall leave to procure the rest of your items and will return to take you home."

He handed me the coins, giving me one last nod before walking off in the opposite direction.

'Well, so much for 'children are the future'. I snorted, entering the wand store.

The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Countless narrow boxes containing wands were tucked away in shelves that spanned the width and height of the shop and the whole place had a thin layer of dust coating it.

I sneezed, prompting Ollivander to come up behind me saying, "Pardon you, young man."

I flinched, calming my erratically beating heart as I turned around, my eyes meeting his pale-moon orbs.

"You do this quite often, don't you?" I asked accusingly, my eyes narrowing. "I'm Asim Dovahkiin, nice to meet you…'

"I neither confirm nor deny your allegations," he said in a smooth but wizened voice. "Now, you must be here for your wand, yes? What is your wand arm?"

"I'm right handed if that's what you're asking."

He walked up to me, taking various measurements with his floating tape measures, humming softly. Once he was done, he walked towards his dusty counter, beckoning me to follow him with a single, spindly finger.

I stood before him and that was when several boxes began to rattle on their shelves. Ollivander whirled around, rushing behind the counter with a maniacal cackle.

'Barmy old coot…'

I grinned, walking leisurely towards him. He laid all the excitable boxes before me, spreading his arms out like a ringmaster in a circus.

"Well Mr Dovahkiin," he said, with a smile. "You have made my job significantly easier."

"I aim to please."

He pulled a monocle out of his pocket, lining it up with his right eye as he inspected all of the wands, gasping aloud once he had finished.

"These are all wands that contain Dragon heartstring cores…" he said. "Mr Dovahkiin, close your eyes and stick out your wand arm, moving towards the wand that you are drawn to the most."

I merely nodded my head, closing my eyes and sticking out my hand. My palm tingled as I swept my hand over the counter. I felt the majority of the wands submit themselves to me, completely docile.

'No dragon would bend its knee to another…'

I curled my lip, my arm returning to my side. There were only two wands that put up any sort of fight.

"These two, Mr Ollivander." I said, motioning to the furthermost right boxes.

He silently complied, returning all the wands back to their shelves except the two I had pointed to.

'Let's see what we've got.'

Adjusting his monocle, he inspected the first wand.

"Beech and Dragon heartstring, twelve inches and three-quarters, nice and supple." holding the wand as if it would break at any moment, he passed it to me.

I gripped it firmly, feeling a rush of power.

'There's something missing…'

Pangs of longing rippled from within my chest as I yearned for something to complete the void, a void that the wand couldn't fill. I shook my head, regret welling up from within me as I hesitantly passed the wand back to Ollivander.

"The other one, Mr Ollivander." I said, my voice no more than a whisper.

He nodded in understanding, returning the Beech Wand to its case before inspecting the next.

"Black Walnut and Dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, unyielding." he said, handing me the wand.

The minute my fingers graced the wood, I knew that this was the one. I closed my eyes, feeling complete.

My magic sang as I raised the wand above my head, twirling it in an arc.

Before me stood the same dragon from my earlier hallucination, its scales as dark as the abyss, somehow managing to glimmer eerily. It cocked its regal head to the side, its golden eyes flashing in what I surmised was amusement. A throaty growl rose from the depths of its throat, acrid smoke curling out of its snout.

I felt a grin draw itself across my face, the wand and our bond imprinting itself into my very being.

Opening my eyes, a superlunary blue and orange aura flowed and danced around my body as I became aware of Ollivander's enthusiastic applause.

My gaze seemed to be drawn to the wand. A coiling dragon had been etched down its length, starting halfway down the wand and ending at its pommel.

"Bravo Mr Dovahkiin, bravo!" he said, his moon-coloured eyes flashing with joy.

I nodded, my smile seeming to be permanently fixed onto my face, and fished through my pockets for money.

"How much do I owe you, sir?"

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture before replying. "Seven Galleons please."

I handed him the coins before walking over to the chair in the corner of the room and taking a seat.

*

oOOOo

*

With my new enrollment out of the way for the moment, I finally had time to face the elephant in the room.

Back at the orphanage, I was laying on the bed, staring vacantly at the teal-coloured roof. I cracked a sad smile, sitting up and looking back at the picture hanging from the wall. It showed me or rather, Asim, smiling happily with his arm around a smaller kid. I knew that I had no control over my sudden shunting into this body. 'Doesn't make me feel any less shitty though…'

I wiped a few stray tears from my face, lightly slapping my cheeks. 'It won't do to mope around like this anymore. I'll do something with this new life, even if it's only to atone.'

Leaning over the side of the bed, I picked up a book from atop the stack placed on the floor. It was titled 'Magical Theory', something that I found myself in sore need of. I didn't have the advantage of living in a wizarding household and I doubted that contrived theories derived from the many fanfics that I had read would be of any help to me.

Alongside outlining a set of unbreakable laws such as 'Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration', the book likened Magic to a form of energy that wizards channelled to perform Spells. Wand movements served as physical foci for wizards whilst incantations served as mental foci, a kind of intent stopgap.

'Wait, isn't this completely backwards?'

It would make far more sense for intent to be taught first rather than giving students a crutch for the majority of their school life. Most students go through their education without ever truly grasping the importance of intent. Case in point, Non-verbal Casting, something that's only introduced in the Sixth Year.

This would be far too late since it's nigh-impossible for someone to grasp the complexity of letting intent act as the focus for a spell when they had been relying on incantations and wand movement for so long that mental associations had already been made between incantations, wand movements and the spell that comes to fruition as a result of the two.

Pausing, I scoured the room for some kind of book to write my notes in, finding a notebook hidden within my wardrobe. The dusted coating of its cover wormed its way up my nostrils, bringing forth a mighty sneeze.

I began to write out anything of note that I found in my textbooks, from magical laws to questions that popped up whilst I was reading, one of which being if we acted as a conduit for magic, why was it so hard to cast magic wandlessly?

I reached the end of the book, shifting on the hard wooden chair. I winced. 'Damn, can't they get more comfortable chairs around here?'

My stomach growled, urging me to look for something to eat. 'I wonder if I know where the dining hall is?'

Leaving the confines of my room, I manoeuvred through the many halls of the orphanage, propelled by a sense of deja vu and weird urges that prompted me to turn at different corners, traverse flights of stairs until finally, I reached what I presumed to be the dining hall.

Unease filtered up my toes, my heart rate slowly rising. I swallowed the lump gathering in my throat before planting an uncertain foot forwards. 'What am I nervous for? There's food there, no?'

Soon enough, I found out the reason why. The minute I stepped foot into the dining hall, countless pairs of scornful eyes and judging whispers fixed themselves upon me.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bothered but my need for food far outweighed any sense of discomfort towards my current situation. Luckily, I managed to finish my meal in relative peace leaving the dining hall. That was the last of my neurotic episode, my perturbation slowly fading away until I was calm once more.

Returning to my room, I placed my books atop the shelf in my wardrobe. Grinning, I placed my hands on my hips, satisfied. All that was left was to place my wand atop the stack of books before showering and going to sleep.

'But before that…'

I removed the cover of the box, tentatively placing it onto the table and bringing a shaking hand towards the wand in question. I grasped the hilt of the wand, a wave of pure euphoria coursing up my arm as my magic sang upon reuniting with it. I bit my lip, shuddering before relinquishing my hold on the wand, dropping it into the box.

'Fucking hell, if just grasping it is that addicting, I reckon I should stay away from until it's time for school.'

And with that, I removed my garments and put on a bathrobe, stopping to marvel at the hilarity of the situation. An orphanage in Kent had far better living conditions than my crummy council flat in London. 'I mean come on! What kind of orphanage gives its children bathrobes?!'

I returned from my shower, finding my pyjamas atop my pillow. Crawling under the bed sheets, I leaned over and extinguished the bedside lamp, removing any and all lingering light from the room.

Sleep's alluring call summoned me. Stifling a yawn, my heavy-lidded eyes slowly came to a close and I was left wondering what the coming month had in store for me.

**********

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