Heaving his breath, harry laid flat on the ground as the elves surrounded him.
He felt his insides turned inside out during the apparation.
"not doing that anytime soon," harry thought back to his whole day," matter of fact, not doing anything that I did today,"
"who thought it would be a good idea to go into the most infamous place in magical Brittan, with out a FUCKIN' WAND." Harry said the last part as he hit his head lightly.
Getting to his feet, he saw the elves looking at there surroundings in curiosity.
Harry took a deep breath only to clamp on his nose with hand.
"damn, gotta do something about them."
He looked over the elves to the Dursleys, still laying dead on the side.
The experience might seem like he had been out for days, but in reality it had not even been half day, since he left the Dursleys house.
"they are still out flat, looks like the sleep spell tom used on the matron of his orphanage is working just fine."
Harry then looked at the elves and addressed, "look I would really like to know you all, but now I am just so tired," he slumbed his shoulder's exhaustion, "why don't you tie those people at the back and… you know what, get me any newspapers you can find in Diagon alley,"
"here's the money…" Reaching to his bag, harry came to the horrifying realization. "… fuck."
Clutching his head down harry then howled, "ahhhh…"
The elves scattered in confusion, one even muttering, "he is mad,"
After pounding the floor on his knees, harry weekly got up and said to the elves, just to get any newspaper they find lying around.
He didn't want to send his elves to knocturn alley, even if not for the danger that would pose, but the sheer possibility of his money still being there were less to none.
Harry grumbled about the unfairness of his situation—transmigrating only to suffer daily, often heading to bed immediately and spending most of his time in recovery.
And so he fell right into the embrace of morphias soon as his head touched the pillow.
-
Harry's breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted through the dark, gloomy alleys. Shadows flitted around him, dark cloaks swirling in the cold night air. The figures chasing him seemed to multiply with every step he took. First, there were four, then six, nine, and finally a dozen, all shrouded in darkness, their faces hidden beneath their hoods.
"Aahh…" Harry's scream echoed through the narrow passageways, a cry of sheer terror. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter with each passing second. His legs burned, but he dared not slow down, knowing that to stop would mean certain doom.
In his mind, Harry envisioned the blackness behind him—a void devoid of any light, like an endless abyss waiting to swallow him whole. It felt alive, a malevolent force creeping ever closer, threatening to consume him.
Desperation clawed at his mind, and his thoughts became frantic. As he ran, the darkness seemed to shift, forming new horrors. He imagined a jagged split across the path ahead, a massive chasm that appeared to tear the very fabric of the earth. Sharp spikes jutted out from the edges, gleaming like the fangs of a monstrous beast.
The ground trembled beneath his feet as he neared the chasm, and Harry could feel the air grow colder, more oppressive. The spikes seemed to move, closing in on him, ready to snap shut and trap him in their deadly embrace. Each spike glistened ominously, reflecting the faint light from the moon above, creating an eerie, almost hypnotic effect.
The alleys twisted and turned, the walls closing in on him, their surfaces slick with grime and dripping water. The distant sound of his pursuers' footsteps echoed ominously, growing louder with each passing moment. The chasm loomed ahead, and he knew he had to make a choice.
With a surge of determination, harry snarled as he pushed himself harder, his eyes hardening, locked on the narrow path that seemed to wind precariously along the edge of the abyss.
Just as he reached the edge, the ground gave way, and Harry felt himself falling, tumbling into the darkness below. The spikes seemed to close in around him. Just when he thought this was the end, a giant figure in dark robes appeared out of the shadows and clutched him in its grasp. The figure's grip was icy, and Harry could feel the cold seeping into his bones.
At that moment, the fear reached its peak, and Harry jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart still pounding from the nightmare.
"Damn, that was one heck of a nightmare," Harry said as he massaged his head.
Still groggy and disoriented, he stumbled out of his room. His footsteps were heavy, and his mind was foggy with the remnants of sleep. In his tired state, he barely registered the muffled screams or the frantic calls of the Dursleys, their voices faint through the walls. They had been locked away and starved for two days now, but Harry, in his daze, paid them no mind.
"Well, not like they will die," he muttered to himself as he walked down the dimly lit hallway.
As he ventured further into the house, Harry realized something was amiss. The air felt different, heavy with an unusual scent. He turned a corner and stopped abruptly. The sight before him made his eyes widen in surprise.
Harry realized that he had made an error.
The house was filled with stacks of newspapers. They were everywhere, piled high in various towers that reached up to the ceiling. The elves had been busy, filling the whole room and a large part of the house with countless copies. The papers were stacked in haphazard columns, creating a maze of printed news.
Harry sighed deeply. "Great, just what I needed," he muttered.
-
AN:
Yo sorry, my uncle is standing in an election, so was busy with that.
I will try to mass release some chapter this week.