HP :Pokemon In Horgwart

The moment he stirred awake, Magnus felt like he had been sleeping for decades.

Everything in his body felt rigid, and just shifting sideways seemed to require more effort than was normal.

Then when the memories of what had happened before he passed out hit him, he realized there should be nothing normal about it.

With immense effort, he managed to force his eyelids open but regretted it instantly.

A blinding pain flashed through his head as an intense light hit him full on the face.

He groaned as his hands shot up to reinforce the already shut eyes.

"Fuck," he cursed painfully.

Why the hell did it feel like he had been blind his whole life? Like he was only opening his eyes for the first time?

And where was he in the first place?

Certainly not a hospital… which is where he expected to be after his last incident.

Well, there was the afterlife, or wherever people went when they died.

But he wasn't dead, was he?

He couldn't be.

Pain.

Pain meant life. So, somehow, he was still breathing.

But not in a hospital… He would have recognized that sterile smell.

He could smell something strange but certainly not the smell of an hospital

Despite his eyes being shut, Magnus could tell there was someone else in the room. Maybe more than one; he couldn't say exactly how many, but his instincts told him he was being watched.

Slowly, he forced his eyes open and peered through the crack of his fingers.

The pain flashed through his head as he glimpsed the light, but it wasn't as bad as the first time. Gradually, he removed his hands and waited for his eyes to get used to the light.

He was in a room, alright… a strange room where everything seemed to belong to the 1900s. The design of the window… the weird charts…

There was, however, no one else inside. Yet he could still feel he was being watched.

The sensation was so strong that he felt like the watcher's eyes were prickling his flesh.

His eyes suddenly rose toward the dull door as if hoping to catch the watcher unprepared, but there was no one there.

Right above the door was a portrait of a weird-looking man with sharp eyes and a long silver beard. He was dressed in a black pointed hat and even more weirdly shimmering robes that seemed to sway within the picture.

 Magnus decided it must be his eyes playing tricks on him. Maybe they were still not accustomed to the dazzling light seeping from the broad windows.

He slowly sat up and pushed himself off the bed. His joints let out a sick crack as if they were not used to supporting his weight.

Magnus' focus was still on the picture. It reminded him of Harry Potter.

People dressed like this, didn't they? Could he somehow have been rescued by someone who was a Harry Potter fanatic?

It wasn't until his eyes fell on the words written on the door that he realized just how weird things were getting.

Even with his dim vision, the words clearly shone as if they had a light of their own:

ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES – CRITICAL AILMENT WARD

Magnus felt his thoughts swirling with confusion as sudden awareness dawned on him.

This… this was just too much, even for a die-hard fan. I mean, who the hell labels their room like a hospital ward?

There were hundreds of fun names to choose from. It could be Hogwarts, Quidditch, Shrieking Sharks, Hogsmeade… the list was endless.

"Hello… anyone there?" he called finally, feeling tired of trying to figure things out. He could just ask.

But, call as he might, there was no answer.

"What if…" Magnus' thoughts began to fill with even weirder suggestions.

St. Mungo's? But… but that couldn't be possible.

Despite feeling very much awake, he wondered if even that wasn't part of a dream. I mean, he could be dreaming of waking up while inside of a dream—a dream within another dream.

Of course, he knew St. Mungo's. Who the hell didn't? It didn't matter whether you were a fan, which he was. The franchise was so big that one was bound to have come across something about it from one place or the other.

The trouble was… what was he doing here? The place was nothing but a fictional magical hospital in Harry Potter.

Suddenly, that feeling of someone glaring at him returned, and almost as if his eyes knew the source, they automatically rose back to the framed portrait right above the words he had been mulling over.

His already thundering heart almost stopped.

Magnus could have sworn that the posture the man in the portrait held was not similar to what he had seen less than a minute ago.

And… and he could have also sworn that the man had…

"Did he just blink?"

What the hell… was this some well-thought-out prank, or…

"Of course I blinked, boy. What do you take me for, a statue?"

Magnus let out a shocked scream as he staggered back until he fell onto the bed. His bulging eyes never left the portrait as he watched the robed man ogling him in distaste.

"What in the name of Merlin is wrong with you, kid? You look like you've been kissed by a Dementor."

Magnus felt his thoughts shuffling and turning within his mind in a chaotic mix.

Nothing was making sense.

I mean, St. Mungo's, enchanted ceilings, robed portraits of a talking man… the evidence was all clear. But he… he would rather believe he was hallucinating instead of facing the logic.

It couldn't be. He simply couldn't be within the Harry Potter world.

The man inside the portrait was now stroking his beard, wordlessly glaring at Magnus thoughtfully.

"Where… where am I?"

The question, though spoken aloud, was more a monologue meant for himself. But the dude in the portrait seemed to think it was addressed to him.

His previously hostile—or rather disapproving—look morphed into some sort of empathy.

"Aah… I see. It certainly makes sense. Poor child. Must have touched his brain...Poor chap, no wonder he looks so out of place. He must have blown his sense away. Poor bloke."

Magnus sat there, his body rigidly frozen, as he listened to a talking portrait diagnose him.

Not much of what was said made sense, but at least the guy had one thing right: he was certainly losing his mind.

Was this how madness felt?

"Certainly, certainly," the man rumbled on in his sing-song voice. "The symptoms definitely resemble those of serious accidental magic."

He was now looking at Magnus as if expecting him to blow himself into pieces any second now.

The staring game went on for close to a minute, with neither of them willing to look away from the other.

When nothing interesting seemed to happen, the man let out a frustrated sigh.

"I suppose ogling and blank stares are part of the symptoms," the man said, clearly failing to mask his disappointment.

It was like he had been wishing—almost hoping—that Magnus would suddenly start blubbering senseless stuff, if only to cement his diagnosis.

"Oh, my beard… Yes, I should certainly alert the healer in charge that you are awake. Though she will hardly believe it… it's been a whole…" He broke off, seemingly trying to recall something. "Yes… it should be a month since they brought him unconscious."

The guy turned, then stopped and gave Magnus another scrutinizing look before he began to walk away from the damn portrait.

Magnus would have recoiled further were it not for the fact that he was now right on the other end of the bed with his back pressed against the wall. Instead, he watched helplessly, mouth agape, as the man grew tinier and tinier before completely disappearing from the framed portrait.

"What the actual hell!"