It was not through a sudden death or a divine encounter that I found myself in another world. A world that was only supposed to exist in stories and the imagination of an active and wistful mind. Anyone familiar with the concept of magic will naturally find themselves drawn towards it. I am not talking about sleight of hand or stage magic. I am referring to the possibility of changing the very fabric of reality.
As children, we all wished we could fly, we wanted to be extraordinary and perform great feats of magic. I spent my childhood days as any other child did, running around performing great acts of magic aided by my mind. My active imagination helped me play out scenarios in my mind, scenarios that would never have been possible for me to bring out of the confines of my dreams and hope, but now I have the chance to be magical.
Why do I think this, you say? What makes me think I am in another world entirely? It's because I am a child right now, even though I clearly remember being twenty-five years old.
I didn't come to this realization like many fanfics I have read; there isn't a sudden influx of memory of my previous life being shoved into my brain. Instead, it is like I am living two lives at once. It feels like I can toggle between my two lives. Imagine this, you are dreaming, and in your dream, you are living a completely new and separate life. In the dream, you live your life as normal, but the people you meet and know are different, your lifestyle is different, and your actions are different. When you wake up to reality, you don't all the sudden remember that you are living a life that is different from your dreams. Instead, it feels like the reality was always there, no matter the life you lived in a dream, no matter an abrupt ending or a subtle awakening.
It's the same for me; I feel like I lived two different lives, but they were simultaneous rather than completely separate.
It feels like I have always lived this life, but I have also always lived another life where I am twenty-five years old, much like dreaming a dream.
As I lie down on my bed and look up at my ceiling, admiring the small, glowing balls of phosphorescent material hanging on threads.
I can't help but reflect again.
"Woah they really do look like glowing stars."
My room has an awesome layout; there is a full-size bed that I am lying on right now. The nightstand has a lamp and some small toys scattered on its surface. The room is painted blue, and the main attraction, of course, is the ceiling, where you can see planets and some small figurines and toys hanging.
There is a low desk which is perfect for a small child to study on, and a bookshelf to the left of it, my personal favorite. The bookshelf is filled with children's books, you know, the ones with pop-up pictures and huge font words. I do like to read.
As I think all of this, a yawn escapes me, and I slowly drift off to sleep, a growing child needs his sleep after all.
"Henry….Henry, wake up, sweetheart."
A gentle voice of a woman coaxes me awake from my sleep. I open my eyes to a beautiful woman. She doesn't look to be more than thirty years old; in fact, she could easily pass off as someone in the mid to early twenties.
She has light brown wavy hair in a high ponytail and luminous blue eyes. She has a soft, gentle voice with an almost airy, elegant tone, one you only hear in old movies.
"Good morning Henry, it's time for breakfast. Are you hungry?" she asks in an indulging tone.
"Good morning, mommy," I nod and reply to her in my still sleepy state.
I am soon lifted off my bed, and she is holding my small frame against her, so my head rests on her shoulder.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Hmmn" I nod against her shoulder, trying to go back to sleep.
As I close my eyes, I can feel us moving out of my room and making a left to the stairs, which lead down to the kitchen.
I am now fully awake as I am set down in a high chair in front of a man who is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up from his daily newspaper.
"Good morning, my boy," he says, giving a smile and saying in a tone that all adults default to when speaking to a baby.
"Good morning, daddy," I respond as I flash all my baby teeth at the man.
I shift my attention to my mother, and I once again see the reason I am so thankful to be living this life.
There she is, in all her glory, cups floating around her, scones stacking themselves on a plate. Even after seeing it so many times, I can't help but stare.
A wand is held in her hand, and she is waving it around, left to right and high to low. A flick and the eggs flip themselves, another flick and the milk bottle opens, and the milk inside flies into the glass. A twirling motion toward where I am sitting, and the glass full of milk lifts itself from the kitchen counter and levitates to the dinner table, right in front of me.
It's a show put on display, or at least it would be in my previous life. In this life, she is just making breakfast.
"Hahaha," I hear a big reverberating laugh, so I turn my attention to my father, the source.
"Amazing isn't it, little man?" he questions, obviously noticing me staring.
I nod frantically, "Yes, yes, it is!" I respond like rapid gunfire.
The man chuckles and goes back to reading his newspaper. Since he has all my attention, I really look at the man. He looks young, too young. I am still surprised that someone this young has a kid.
He sports black hair, but not pitch-black; it is a light shade that flows to the nape of his neck. It's curled, much like my mother's hair. A clean-shaven face that highlights his youthfulness perfectly. He looks like he couldn't be much older than twenty-five.
"Oh, looks like DMLE budget will increase again, Bagnold is really taking a hard stance to clean up the Death Eaters," he comments, setting down his newspaper so he could turn to the second page, and lifts the paper to continue reading. The topic breaks me out of my monologue.
I look down and follow his line of sight, and am greeted by a moving picture of our Minister of Magic, the top reads "Daily Prophet". I hear my mother respond, but I tune it out in favor of staring at the front page with a moving picture.
That's right, a moving picture, but it's not on a TV screen or a phone, or any other electronic device it's supposed to be on. Instead, it is on a thin piece of paper. It is an affirmation that I now live in Wizarding Britain, in the magical world of Harry Potter.