On a cold and gloomy London night, the sun shone brightly into the apartment window belonging to one Harry James Potter. What the bloody hell is going on around here? Harry thought as he threw back his blankets and left the comfort of his bed to close the shutters.
“Bewitching the sky…” Harry muttered in his state of heavy sleepiness. “What’ll they think of next?”
He now returned to his plush bed, which was complete with overstuffed and infinitely soft pillows, to resume his sleep pattern. He sat and enjoyed the feel of the still warm spot he had previously abandoned. A quick glace at his alarm clock told him it was after three a.m., and Harry groaned audibly. In less than four hours, the young Auror would have to wake and prepare for the hard day of work ahead. This did not make him happy.
Just beside him, on a handcrafted perch made for him personally by an artisan wizard who wished to thank Harry for his bravery in finishing off Lord Voldemort, sat his beloved owl, Hedwig. She had her face nestled down into her mane of thick and beautiful brown feathers, sleeping peacefully.
Wait”Harry rubbed his eyes and looked closely again”Hedwig’s feathers were white. Yes, that’s right. White.
This is ridiculous, Harry thought. I’m going mad. I am absolutely losing my mind. He felt around his nightstand for a small handheld mirror and squinted”only to find out he didn’t need to squint, even without his glasses”to a spot just above his eyebrow. Ok, so the scar is still here… I really need some sleep.
Only, when Harry let himself fall back into the fluffiness of his large pillows, the last thing he found was comfort. His head banged smartly on the solid pillow and resounded with a metallic clang. Anger boiled underneath his fair skin and he punched the stupid pillow as hard as he could; immediately following an identical metallic clang in conjunction with an excruciating yelp of pain, Harry had wished he had controlled his temper.
Altogether giving up, Harry resigned to just lay his head gingerly on the unmoving rock that passed for a pillow. He would will himself to sleep no matter what it took…if he could only ignore how bright the room still was in the middle of the night.
Half an hour and one stiff neck later, the seriously perplexed famous wizard finally conquered his objective. Sleep came, of course, but it wasn’t exactly what one would call pleasant. The oddities and downright insanities of recent events plagued his mind even in his slumber. The result was the most peculiar dream Harry had ever encountered.
He now lived in a world completely unlike the one he had left. House-elves now ran the country”and in fact the entire world, including all the Ministries of Magic”and certain humans were used to be their servants.
Water was never drunk, but instead traded like money. The worst part was that an entire liter could only buy the front half of a book; the rest would have to be bought by trading another liter (unless the buyer possessed particularly honed bargaining skills and a knack for flattery, then he could get the front two-thirds for just one liter).
Coin money as the wizarding world had known it was non-existent, and the only pieces that remained served as small drink coasters or levelers for uneven table legs.
Everything swirled around his head so fast Harry hardly knew what to do to make it stop spinning. The strange part was that it all seemed to make sense to him, in a weird, twisted sort of way. Everything had a purpose, just like it once had: There were people (or creatures, at least) who ruled and made decisions and others who followed them, there was day and night (he hoped…), there was a means to trade goods by, there was good versus evil…
Wait. No, there wasn’t.
Where had all the evil gone? Harry wandered up and down every street he could find, peering into shops and cafés, looking around any dark corner he could find in search of someone who was up to no good. What he found was…nothing. Not one trace of dishonesty or thievery or wickedness. There was not the slightest hint that dark magic even existed at all.
Everyone seemed to be going about their business as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Children were allowed to wander farther from their parents than they had ever been whilst the Death Eaters still threatened their safety, and wives went shopping without the insistence that their husbands accompany them for protection. That was all good and nice but… It was weird.
Nobody tried to steal, lie, or cheat. Muggle gamblers didn’t hide aces in their hats, children told the truth about how the chocolate all over their faces had suddenly appeared there, and Muggle women didn’t clutch their purses tightly while riding on the tube. Even Mundungus Fletcher had no need to be underhanded about anything; he now ran a rather successful magical accident insurance agency, and did so with utmost professional integrity.
“Excuse me?” Harry asked a kind looking street vendor who was selling freshly baked cakes.
“Hello, dear,” the woman greeted cheerfully, “cakes are two and a half liters. They’re homemade, you know,” she added with extra pride.
“I’m sure they’re delicious but I haven’t any mon…water,” Harry corrected himself. “I actually just wanted to ask you”“
The woman patted him on the shoulder like a grandmother would do and interrupted him, “There, there, you look like an honest young man, and a hungry one at that. How about I just give you the cake and accept an agreement that you’ll pay for it later? You look just ravished, and everyone here is pure goodness, anyway, so I may as well trust you,” she smiled.
Harry was beyond confused but suddenly realized that indeed he could eat a bite of cake, now that she mentioned it. “Er, thank you. But I really just wanted to ask why…why the entrance to Knockturn Alley has been boarded up?” he asked, indicating a spot just across the road that had been completely sealed with wood and signs marking it closed forever.
“Goodness! Why ever would you want to go there?”
“Oh, I don’t, I just…wondered…”
“Knockturn Alley has been abandoned for decades, sir! You know that once that Harry Potter chap”rest his soul”put an end to Lord Voldemort and consequently eliminated all the evil left in this world, why there was no reason for Knockturn Alley and all its dark magic affiliation to remain! Everyone knows that,” she beamed.
“Right, right… You’re right. I must have just forgot,” Harry tried to recover. If Harry hadn’t already decided this beforehand, he definitely would have known by now that something really strange was going on. “So, Harry Potter… He’s dead?”
“Oh, yes, he died ages ago. Same as Voldemort. Then after that, everything completely changed.”
Harry was astonished even further by the way this woman threw around Voldemort’s name so easily. He had heard very few people say the name at all, much less with such disregard to the fear his name used to invoke.
After Harry had asked her about this, she told him, “I told you things changed drastically after Voldemort died. That Harry vaporized him into nothingness, and without Voldemort around to keep terrorizing all those poor people, what was left to be afraid of? The name meant nothing from that point forward; it was just a simple reminder of an evil point in history. It’s in all your text books, sonny.”
“You say the world changed after Voldemort died.”
She nodded.
“Changed….how, exactly?” As if Harry even had to ask.
The woman surprised Harry by spreading her arms wide and inhaling deeply, taking in the fresh, inner-city air. “The world became beautiful and perfect, of course! Without evil to corrupt our innately innocent and untainted lives, that’s how everyone remained! It did shift our entire world quite considerably in the process, but don’t you think it was worth it? Gracious, we haven’t even the need for a Magical Law Enforcement Squad or Muggle police officers! Isn’t that fantastic?”
Harry took another sweeping look at all the happy faces around him. They did seem quite content…but something still plagued Harry. Not the least of all was the fact that without the need for a Magical Law Enforcement Squad there would be no Aurors, which meant Harry would be out of a job. The other thing was…well…it just seemed boring, quite frankly. Not to mention a huge waste of his time.
He had spent nearly his entire adolescent phase of life battling the forces of evil; he had even gone so far as to make it his life goal to serve and protect the vast majority of the decent population from the small minority who made it their life goal to terrorize others and basically just be pains in the arse. And after all that”after all he’d worked ceaselessly to pass his N.E.W.T. tests and train extra hard to become an exceptional Auror”he now found out that he was done. Finished. There was no evil, no dark magic left for him to fight anymore. What was the point? His life was a waste, and Harry saw a menacing vision of himself growing old and sitting on a rocking chair on his front porch, yelling at kids who took short cuts across his lawn.
But wait… If there were no evil and no hatefulness, would Harry even be yelling at those kids in the first place? Or would he simply sit there and rock and smile, completely carefree to anything and everything that dared happen to him?
The more Harry pondered the possibility, the more he wanted out. Out, out, out!
This life of perfect goodness was certainly a lovely concept, albeit a strange one, especially being as how it nearly turned the entire world upside down, but Harry came to the conclusion he really didn’t like this new, perfect world all that much.
“So… You like the world this way? Now that there’s no evil in it anymore?” Harry asked, very curious to know.
The woman shrugged but also gave a nod of agreement. “Can’t complain or anything. People are happy, sun’s always shining… It’s monotonously pleasant all year round. It doesn’t rain at all anymore, which incidentally put the umbrella makers out of business, but you can’t win them all, I suppose. They’re happily selling sunglasses now, anyway.”
Harry furrowed his brow in puzzlement. “The sun is always out? How do you sleep?”
She gave a hearty guffaw at the suggestion that she ever slept. “No need for it; no one here gets tired. This world is perfect, remember?” Then the woman eyed him suspiciously. “You haven’t, by any chance, escaped from the mental ward, have you?”
If I have, I should probably be getting back real soon, Harry thought. I’m starting to think I belong there.
“Er, no,” he answered sheepishly.
Harry finished his cake as the woman continued to explain how easy and predictable life this new world had evolved into, and he fought hard to retain his interest. Nothing was unique anymore. There were no surprises; there was no danger, no need to wonder or imagine what the next day would hold (or rather, what the next twenty-four hours would hold, since there technically was no night and day anymore), and certainly no motivation to take any interest in the future at all. “Today’s” forecast was the same as “tomorrow’s” and same as the next “day’s” and the next…
He couldn’t handle all of this.
Harry tossed in his bed, feeling his pillow return to its fluffy comfort. Sunlight still beat in through the slits in his window shutters, though it didn’t seem quite as bright as it had at three a.m. His eyes adjusted and he looked at the clock: a quarter until seven. Damn, Harry thought.
And then he realized where he was and took in his surroundings. Yes, his bed had taken on its original, inviting softness, and Hedwig”well, Hedwig must have gone out hunting through the open window in the kitchen, but he was sure that wherever she was her feathers must be their natural snowy white. The sun was still out as it was hours earlier, but at least this time it made sense.
What a horrible, horrible dream, thought Harry. He admitted that life without worry and danger did seem to have its decided perks, but at the same time…it’s the kind of constant, serene calm that would drive a man mad if he was subjected to it long enough. Harry needed adventure, excitement, and the thrill of the unknown. There was no way he could live in a world completely void of any and all wrongdoing. His life’s purpose being already achieved, Harry would end up rotting away, bored out of his skull.
But things were better now, much better in fact, because he was awake.
An hour later, Ron Weasley showed up at Harry’s apartment just like he always did every weekday morning so the old friends could travel to work together. Ron knocked out of courtesy and the relieved Harry rushed to the door. However, he hesitated briefly with his hand on the knob.
“Ron?”
“Who else would it be?” asked his friend.
Harry smiled to himself but still talked through the door. “Just checking. Something weird happened last night. I must still be feeling the affects.”
“Come on, mate, open the door.”
“First I want to ask you something. What does your pillow feel like?”
“Harry, are you feeling well? Maybe I should just go on to work and tell them you’re taking the day off…” Ron offered.
“No, no, I’m fine.” He thought he heard Hedwig fluttering in the other room, back from her early morning hunting trip, and was very curious to see how her feathers had held up. However, before he would allow Ron entrance and go check on Hedwig, Harry had another question. “Er, this is going to sound silly, but Voldemort’s dead, right?”
“Yes, Harry, you killed him in our seventh year at Hogwarts. You must be losing your memory, I swear. Now hurry and let me in. I want to grab some breakfast before we head out,” Ron said.
“One more thing”what color is your hair?”
“Ok, let me in. You must have an outrageous fever or something. You’re completely nutters. After fourteen years of friendship you ought to know what color my hair is.”
That’s right; Harry had known Ron for fourteen years. Most of all, Ron didn’t think Harry Potter was dead like that woman on the street did. He knew the truth about Harry. Harry was alive. Harry was an Auror. Harry was real; it’s the dream that wasn’t.
He felt better already, but hurried off to find Hedwig just the same. When he returned to the kitchen and found a single brown feather on the countertop next to his sink, Harry began to worry. This can’t be happening, he thought. Ron said it’s ok. He knows I’m alive, he knows pillows are soft and his hair is still red. Nothing has changed. We’re Aurors, and we fight evil because there is still evil to be fought. I’m not mad, he coached himself.
But as he left the kitchen, Harry had a slight urge to take a few liters of water to repay the nice lady who had given him cake. He quickly dismissed the thought and squashed it like a flobberworm.
By now Ron had entered Harry’s apartment on his own and took the time while Harry was in the kitchen to look about for signs of anything unusual. After finding nothing, he stood there in the middle of the room, scratching his head. I don’t know what’s got into him. My hair’s brown, same as it’s always been.
Fin.