Accio Paintbrush

Elias, or rather Harry Potter in this new life, blinked his eyes against the gloom that surrounded him. The walls of the cupboard, grimy and small, pressed in on all sides. His memories, like scattered fragments of a broken mirror, pulsed with the vivid colors of his past life as an artist. The sensation was strange and confusing—he knew he was meant to be here, but he also knew there was something more, something greater waiting for him. 

The air smelled faintly of damp wood and dust. He drew a slow, shallow breath, feeling the weight of his tiny, fragile body. His fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for the corners of his mind where the strange power lingered— The Inventory subspace. It was a world that could store items he couldn't quite touch, but could always access when the need arose.

His other gift was more directly connected to his artistic nature: the ability to bring his drawings to life. But as much as it intrigued him, it was also a double-edged sword. He could only manifest two creations per day, and only objects—no food, no magic. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him of the grim reality that he had no food, no means to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside him.

Elias exhaled, clenching his fists. If only he could paint something that could help him survive. Something that might ease his isolation. He considered his options, but his mind remained clouded with the uncertainty of this new life.

Through the thin walls of the cupboard, he could hear the muffled sounds of the Dursleys moving around in the house, their voices rising in anger. He winced as the familiar cruelty of his aunt and uncle's disdain filtered through the door.

"Just keep your head down," he whispered to himself. "Just keep your head down until you know how to make sense of this."

But that flicker of light, that swirling brushstroke of rebirth, still lingered in his thoughts—reminding him of the artist he once was, of the world he had left behind. Somehow, he would have to blend the two halves of himself. The boy who was Harry Potter, and the man who had been Elias, an artist. Perhaps the answers to his survival, and his ultimate destiny, lay somewhere in between.