Harry Potter and the Dovahkiin

"Ughhh."

My head felt like a brick, and my heart was auditioning for a rock band. Maybe—just maybe—it was time to cut back on the caffeine.

As I forced my eyes open, I found myself staring at a ceiling that was most definitely not mine. Wooden beams, old and weathered, stretched above me. The last time I saw something like this was at our ancestral home when we visited Grandma—except this place looked even older. Like, 'it probably creaks ominously for dramatic effect' old.

"Where the hell am I?" I muttered, glancing around the damp attic. The air was thick with the scent of moss and rotting wood, and the floor was littered with all sorts of junk.

'Did a storm hit this place or what?' I thought, eyeing the gaping hole in the thatched roof and the attic window that looked one strong breeze away from giving up entirely.

"Let's hope that wasn't my doing," I muttered, forcing a chuckle.

"Ben, what the hell are you doing up there? Trying to blow the house up already?" called a woman from below. Her voice rang with familiarity, yet I was certain I'd never heard it before.

I hesitated. Should I even answer? How does she know my name?

"Benedict! Are you alright? I'm coming up! And you better not be playing with your wand!" she shouted, her footsteps thundering up the stairs.

"Playing with my wand?" I thought, then grimaced. Does she think I'm—? Oh, for God's sake. I let out a dry chuckle. "If my little wand could do this much damage, I'd be in a very different line of work."

"Good lord, what in Merlin's name did you do?"

The moment I met her wide, beautiful brown eyes—eyes that perfectly matched her wild curls and her utterly shocked expression—I knew exactly who she was.

"Mum?"

Dorothea Brown. My mother.

And I was Benedict Brown.

But… how?

My memories told me this was real. This house, this attic, her. But if this was real… what about my other life? Was that just a dream?

Her voice snapped me back. "What happened to you? Why are you staring into oblivion? And—" her eyes swept over me "what happened to your clothes?"

I blinked down at myself. My shirt was barely holding together, and one of my trouser legs had completely vanished. Somehow, I looked even worse than the room.

"I don't know," I muttered, shaking my head. "I blacked out, and this is how I woke up. I don't remember a thing."

That wasn't entirely true. I did remember something—but not from this life. And that was the problem.

"Oh dear lord, let me have a look at you." She pulled a wand from her sleeve—an actual, honest-to-God wand—and before I could react, she flicked it at me, murmuring something under her breath.

A soft glow passed over my body.

"Oh. Oh, hell. This is real."

"Everything seems to be in order with you," she said, studying me. "Your clothes, on the other hand-"

She flicked her wand again, and my tattered clothes stitched themselves back together—well, mostly. My trousers were still missing a leg, and my shirt had a rather indecent hole in the chest.

She frowned. "Blimey, these are beyond saving. Let me fix the roof before it collapses on us—Reparo."

With a few graceful flicks of her wand, the cracked beams sealed, the broken thatch wove itself together, and the entire attic transformed from possible death trap to mostly functional room.

"WOAH."

I wasn't sure if I'd said that or just thought it really loudly.

"You are in big trouble, young man. What did we tell you? No wand-waving without supervision."

"But Mum! I don't even have my wand with me—it's in my room!"

'It's crazy how I know that.'

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! You mean to tell me you did this without a wand?"

"I didn't do it! It was already like this when I woke up. And now my head's splitting, so please, can I just lie down before I keel over?"

'Oh, heavens. Just let me get through this so I can figure out what the hell is going on.'

Mum sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was reconsidering all her life choices. "Fine, go lie down. But you are cleaning this up later—this is still your mess."

"I will, I promise."

"And we'll talk about this when your father gets home."

"Ugh, alright."

I trudged down the rickety attic stairs, through the dimly lit hallway with its peeling wallpaper and warped wooden floors. The whole place had the feel of an old wizarding house—lived-in, full of history, and stubbornly refusing to collapse despite its condition.

My room wasn't much better. The wallpaper was torn in places, but what remained was elegant—gold-etched trees and birds curling across a deep brown background. The furniture, though scuffed, was solid and well-crafted, the kind that had been in the family for generations.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me, and sat on the edge of my bed. The mattress creaked under my weight, but I barely noticed. My gaze had already locked onto the bedside table.

There, resting on top of it, was a wand.

'There's no doubt about it now.'

"This is obviously the world of..."

To be continued...