BEAUTIFUL DISASTERS ｢DRARRY｣

PART 1

Harry Potter wasn't one to believe in magic or miracles. He believed in fate. In his opinion, fate controlled everything. He believed that his entire life had been pre-designed by some unknown deity. Sometimes, strange and unexplained things happen to him, but he knew better than to think that it's magic. No, it's all fate. Every moment is part of something much bigger.

And so, when Harry opened his eyes and found himself in an unknown location surrounded by unknown people, he refused to believe that it was magic that brought him there. There was no such thing as magic. He must have been fated to appear at the feet of someone tall and blond.

He was in what seemed to be a classroom, judging by the amount of desks and the many children sitting by them. They were all wearing some sort of uniforms with different coloured ties; some had green, and some had blue. It smelt oddly of rain and parchment. The man directly in front of him stood stiff, which was probably more from shock than good posture.

Not even a few seconds passed before an object that resembled a fancy stick was held to his face. "Who are you and what is your purpose?" The voice came from the man, who Harry assumed was the teacher. It was sharp and sturdy, but wasn't very deep. Harry felt like he should feel intimidated, but he wasn't. It was hard to feel scared when someone was pointing a stick at you.

"Harry. Harry Potter," he answered, deciding to pick himself up off of the ground and dust off his jeans. He looked to the teacher, who was still pointing that absurd stick at him.

"What is your purpose, boy?" The man asked again.

Harry thought for a moment. Before he closed his eyes, he had been back at the orphanage. He remembered they had just ate this disgusting and rather watery soup for dinner. After that, he had gone to his room to read a bit. And after that... nothing.

"I'm really not quite sure, Sir," he answered finally. The class behind him was dead silent, and Harry nearly forgot that they were there.

The teacher stared at him for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to the students. "Class dismissed," he said, and Harry didn't need to look behind to know that they were all leaving in a rush, judging by the squeaking of chair legs against the hard floor.

Soon, the students have left, and they were the only two left in the room.

"You will follow me without a word. If you try anything, I'll have you paralyzed before you can say butterbeer," the teacher threatened, and Harry raised an eyebrow at the word butterbeer. What on earth was that?

He was rather roughly shoved forward, and he reluctantly yet curiously followed the teacher through the many hallways of what seemed to be a school. Students watching the whole ordeal stood gaping at the two adult men rushing through the corridors.

Harry, after not even a minute of walking, realized that he was certainly in a strange place. The staircases moved as if they had mind of their own, and the portraits were somehow alive. This was all incredibly strange, but what drew Harry's attention the most was the teacher walking beside him with long and confident strides.

He looked rather young, most likely around Harry's age, but certainly older than him. His blond hair was short and left to hang over his forehead freely; Harry thought that he ought to slick it back. His eyes were sharp and grey and somehow seemed threatening. The teacher seemed stiff and calculating in general, his eyes flitting all around his surroundings. Harry wondered how long it would take him to realize that Harry was completely harmless and couldn't hurt him even if he tried.

Nonetheless, they soon reached a large statue, and the teacher stopped walking, as did Harry. "Albus," the teacher spoke, and before Harry could ask what he meant, the statue began to spin and stairs soon emerged. "Up you go," the teacher said, his voice still stiff and unyielding, and Harry walked up the stairs. By the creaking, he could tell the teacher was following him.