Prologue

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Oh, what a stupid death that turned out to be! I used to think, for some reason, that a stupid death is when a ridiculous coincidence of circumstances occurs. For example, an ordinary housewife, sitting in her flat on the seventh floor, decided to water the flowers on the windowsill and absolutely accidentally pushed the pot right on the head of an unsuspecting passer-by. But my demise was not far from that. No, I died quite honourably: I went to pull the girl out of the river. Except at that moment I didn't think I was a lousy swimmer myself. In the end, the river took one human soul anyway. But at least I saved the girl.

The fact that I am now in a post-mortal, so to speak, state, there is no doubt, if only because I can not imagine in my city such a room. A huge hall flooded with bright, white light. The walls are nowhere to be seen. I would have thought there were none at all, but the ceiling is clearly supported by something.

- Turn it down a bit! - I shouted into the void as the light began to cut into my eyes.

- There's no need to shout like that, young man, I can hear you just fine," the man in front of me replied. He snapped his fingers, and a soft twilight enveloped the space around me. Wiping away the tears that came from the bright light, I was able to scrutinise the stranger, but he was also scrutinising me, and he was in no hurry to speak. He looked, to put it bluntly, ordinary. Black, short-cropped hair, brown eyes, average height. He was dressed in an ordinary grey suit and a white shirt. He looked about forty-five to fifty years old, no more. But the look... The look said that in front of me was obviously not an easy man, and not that he was a man at all. The man, as if reading my thoughts, smirked and said:

- Yes, you're right, I'm not really human. I have many names. You can call me Death, that option should be familiar to you.

- Oh-oh, no luck, no luck," I muttered disappointedly.

- Yeah, that's what everyone says when they hear they're dead," he continued to smirk, looking me in the eye.

- You misunderstand me. That I'm dead, I realised that myself. It's just that in all the books, Death looks either like an old woman with a scythe or a pretty girl," I stretched out and looked at him eloquently from head to toe.

It's a shame I won't have any descendants to tell about the time I made Death stupor.

The man stared at me in surprise for a few seconds, then laughed.

- Oh," he managed to squeeze out a laugh, "it's been a long time since I've had any fun around here. I'm sorry I didn't live up to your expectations.

- It's all right. You'd better tell me how I got the honour of being greeted in person. Or is this how you inspect everyone?

- No, no, no, you're right. Not many people get in here at all," he circled the space around him. - It's kind of like a hallway. Usually souls skip this place without stopping and then move on. Only exceptional individuals stay here.

- So I'm considered an exceptional person here? - I asked in surprise. - I don't think I've done anything so extraordinary in my life.

- Don't underestimate yourself. You sacrificed yourself for another person you don't know! I realise you didn't think of that," he continued quickly, seeing me open my mouth. - But that's just the way it is, and such cases are rare, no matter what you say.

Just like that, in just a few moments, my death had gone from stupid to heroic. But I still couldn't understand what they wanted from me or why they were keeping me here.

- And I'm keeping you here," Death continued, as if nothing had happened, "because I want to offer you a choice. You can go to paradise and rest in peace, - he pointed his hand somewhere behind his back, - or I can send your soul to a new body.

- Is that like a second life? - I asked excitedly. I was already liking the idea. After all, I hadn't lived long enough, and there were so many interesting things I hadn't done. I could always get to heaven.

- Not something like that," he mocked me, "but a second life. Except there are a few pitfalls. The thing is, I don't know exactly where you'll end up. It could be the family of an African tribal shaman, or a medieval knight, or even you yourself from a few years ago! There are an infinite number of realities and you could end up in any one of them.

- I agree, but hopefully it won't be a tree. - Not that I mind, but a hundred years of looking at the same place must get tiresome.

- I can promise you it won't be a tree," the man was still smirking as he looked at me. I guess he's always like that.

- Then let's go! - I couldn't wait to go to my new body. I had no family in my world, so it was surprisingly easy to leave. My friends will be as sad for me as I am for them, but we'll manage.

- I like your enthusiasm! I think I'll keep an eye on you sometimes. Unless, of course, you turn out to be some stray, old cat," he muttered the last one under his breath, and I couldn't hear what he said. - Well, on your way. We'll meet again.

- See you later! - I shouted as the man and the hall around me began to fade away.

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When Death had told me that I could go anywhere, he hadn't made it clear that I might not be a baby. When I agreed to send my soul into a new body, I thought that I would become a newborn baby who would only have to learn all the mysteries of the world. But now I began to fully realise that my dreams were not destined to come true.

When I woke up in my new body, the first thing I did was to listen to my sensations. There was nothing but emptiness inside me. For a moment I thought I had become a tree, which with my luck would not have been surprising, but gradually I began to feel a body, and this body was not a baby that had just come out of the womb. I didn't move or open my eyes - I decided to sort myself out first.

As soon as I fully realised that I had become another person, who probably lived in another country, in another time, and everything was different from what it was for me, the sensations of the surrounding world began to come to me. The first sensation that came to me was the cold. It came on suddenly and abruptly, as if I had just been on the beach and had already dived headfirst into an ice-hole. Immediately after the cold came a headache, which was still very slight, but a vague premonition told me that I would suffer from it. I didn't feel the presence of a second soul. Perhaps it was impossible to feel such a thing, but I felt as if no one was here, and the place had been prepared for me in advance. It was a strange sensation - my body reacted quickly to my brain's commands, but it still felt a bit foreign. Hopefully, it would pass soon.

There was absolute silence, and I dared to open one eye. Above me were the vague outlines of the ceiling, which had once been white, but had been washed for the last time a long time ago. I couldn't get a better look, apparently I had terrible eyesight now, and there wasn't much light in the room.

Turning my head, I stared at the wall. A plain stone wall that didn't have wallpaper or even paint on it. Looking the other way, I saw the same thing, except that there was something like a passageway between the bed and the other wall. I liked the situation less and less with each passing moment. Sitting up abruptly on the bed, and ignoring the shooting pain in my head, which clearly didn't like my tossing about, I looked around. Yeah, that's what I thought - a cell! A regular prison cell! No, of course, I've never been in one myself, but literature and television give a pretty good idea of what an average cell looks like. Except that there were usually bars, and I had a door, a strange kind of door, as if it were an interior door. Otherwise, it looked exactly like this. A room about three by four metres, a bed that looked more like a bench, a barred window under the ceiling, and a door. There was no toilet, or any semblance of one. Judging by the smell, my newfound body was doing just fine without one.

Standing up on my feet and swaying slightly, I examined myself. Yeah, something had to be done about my eyesight. I don't know whether my glasses had been taken away from me or whether my eyesight had already deteriorated here, but I could see nothing. But even that was enough for me to realise that I looked extremely lousy. Something that had once been a jumper hung down to my knees. I immediately threw the trousers away as far as possible, as the odour emanating from them was enough to ruin a small town. They did not fly far, of course, for the opposite wall was three metres away, but I could breathe a little easier. There were no shoes of any kind, but the dirt on their feet was a nice relief from the cold stone floor.

- Why is there a door like that? - I asked quietly, I don't know from whom. Probably from the moon, which illuminated my space through the window. I did not pay any attention to the fact that my native language was difficult.

As I approached the door, I pushed on the handle and it clicked quietly. Yes, the door was unlocked. I don't know if Death helped me or if that was the plan. We'll figure it out later, but for now I had to look around and try to leave this dodgy place.

There was a draught in the corridor, which was not much different from a cell. Either it was winter outside or I was somewhere in the far north. The strange torches along the wall gave no definite answer to that question. Despite the wind, they burned evenly and did not smoke at all. Still, I can't imagine such a place in the north, more like a medieval castle with strange technologies.

The corridor went both ways, and I decided that I could always go left, so I went right. Literally five metres away in the wall was the same door as the one to my cell. Trying to open it, I was surprised to find that the door yielded easily. Apparently, they'd been saving money on locks. When I looked inside, I saw a man wearing the same clothes I was wearing. He was sitting on the bed with his back to the entrance, staring out the window without moving.

- Hey," I whispered to him, but got no response. - "Hey!" I called a little louder, but got the same reaction. - Are you asleep? - I poked him lightly in the shoulder, looked at his face and froze. That's when I got scared. No, he didn't have long worms on his face, or anything equally disgusting, but at that moment I realised that he wasn't a man at all, just a shell. The moonlight shining in the window made clear the meaningless stare, the open mouth, and the thin trickle of saliva slowly dripping down his chin and onto the bed. What horrified me the most was that my body had apparently looked exactly the same until I'd been in it.

As I walked back out into the corridor, I shook my head, trying to push the image down into the back of my mind, or I'd start dreaming about it, and I didn't want to have nightmares. Now, besides getting out of here, I really wanted to find out what the hell was going on. What kind of hotel for lost souls?

The next few doors I encountered as I walked down the corridor led me to the exact same cells. The bodies in them didn't look much different from each other, except for their postures. The cold gradually overcame me. The rags that covered my body from neck to knees did not keep me warm, and the mud on my feet was no help. The icy wind took every opportunity to attack my gaunt body, and combined with what I was seeing, I was beginning to seriously wish I had agreed to paradise.

Suddenly the corridor came to a new door, very different from the previous ones. It was massive, double-leafed, and completely black. It looked imposing in the uneven torchlight. I was almost certain that behind it was the throne room of some Sauron, but no, opening it carefully, I wasn't even surprised that it wasn't locked, and then I looked inside. Behind the door was an ordinary office. Apparently, the owner of the office had decided that the shells left in the cells would not walk the corridors, so he didn't lock the office, but for nothing.

Inside, directly opposite the entrance, there was a large window, along the walls were shelves with some folders, and in front of the window stood a table and a couple of chairs. On the table, oh wonder, there were glasses! I immediately put them on and looked around again. I can't say it was much better, I could still see just as badly. It was clear that my body's vision was much worse than the one who had left the glasses here, but at least now I didn't have to squint and get close to objects.

I noticed a movement to my right, turned round sharply, and froze. There was a scarecrow standing opposite me, wearing exactly the same clothes as all the other shells. I took a step towards him, and he repeated my movement. Then it finally hit me. A mirror. A regular fucking mirror. And this scarecrow is none other than myself? Yeah. What a sight! Tangled dirty hair hanging down to my shoulders, a face covered with dirt and overgrown with some irregular stubble, all my appearance showed that I've been here for ten years at least. The former jumper hung like a sack, covering a completely bony torso, and with my eyesight I could not yet fully appreciate the magnitude of the tragedy!

But here I noticed something that made me forget all my previous experiences and seriously question my adequacy. If it hadn't been for the glasses, I wouldn't have noticed, but now, looking closer, I saw him. It was so small, so inconspicuous, hidden under my hair and a layer of dirt.... It was a scar! Not just any scar, but the most famous scar in the world! The lightning bolt scar! And it was right in the middle of my forehead.

I stood there for a few minutes, staring at the mirror, and then I couldn't help but swear out loud, not caring if anyone heard me.

- No, it's probably just a coincidence, it's not like it happened in the books," I said, oddly, convincing myself out loud. - I'd read a couple of fanfics, and the plot was very different from the original..... You think I'm in a fanfic? Don't talk rubbish! - or maybe he wasn't.

Finally, after arguing with myself and swearing at myself, Death, the girl I went to save in the river, and a couple of other people I didn't know, I soberly assessed the depth of the arse I had willingly plunged into. Immediately I had a bad feeling about where I was. Indeed, judging from the books I had read, it could only be one place. Quickly going to the window, I looked around and went to swear at everyone for the second time. That's right - the surroundings consist solely of water. It looked like I was somewhere in the upper levels of Azkaban. And these, I'm not afraid of the word, are the people who were kissed by the dementor. The Dementors themselves are a few levels down, at least I hope so, since there's really nothing for them to feed on, but I can still feel their presence.

All right, stop! Two reasonable questions arise at once: firstly, how do I know how the presence of dementors is felt, and secondly, did Potter get kissed by a dementor!?

The question, "What the fuck is going on here!" - was growing in my head to the size of some small planet, but there were no answers.

- That's it, Mr Potter, pull yourself together and get to work on this pile," I'd had a knack for adapting quickly to unusual situations since I was a kid, because if I froze and tried to understand what was going on, it wouldn't get any easier. So I pulled myself together, dismissed the thoughts that were unnecessary at the moment, and looked around carefully for any answers. On the wall there was a duty schedule, according to which the day shift would start at seven in the morning. Looking at the clock on the desk, I realised that I had another six hours to sort everything out and get the hell out of here. The question of how I was going to get off the island I tactfully left to future me.

Opening a small wardrobe in the corner of the office, I found some clothes and, more interestingly, a safe. It was decided to start with the clothes. Pulling off the rag I proudly called a jumper, I examined my ribs, which were covered by a thin layer of skin, then looked at my left arm with some hope, but there was no miracle. The scar from the basilisk's fang was there. I couldn't remember Potter's other distinguishing features, but what I found was enough. I decided to wear whatever I could find. It was probably even colder outside, I'd rather spray than freeze. Unfortunately, I had to put it all on my dirty body, but it was better than nothing. All the clothes were too big for me, what a surprise. After looking in the mirror at my new look, which was little better than the old one, as it contained trousers and boots four sizes bigger and a bright orange shirt, I put a decent warm robe on top. I decided it was warm, since it was the first robe I'd ever seen in my life. All in all, it turned out pretty good, and the cold started to recede.

It was time for the safe. Knowing the local attitude to locks, I was sure that the key to it lay somewhere nearby. After about ten seconds of searching, the key was found in a desk drawer. Inside the safe were two folders that looked no different from the ones on the shelves, a thick stack of newspapers, and a pile of brushwood that, on closer inspection, turned out to be a bunch of magic wands. Considering that I had never encountered any mention of being in the magical world up to that point, it was the final, decisive argument for accepting such an obvious and yet so complex truth: I am Harry Potter.