"Boy— you better be up, or else!"
The voice thundered through the thin walls of the cupboard.
Harry's eyes snapped open, heart pounding. The memory of the blocky world lingered — the colors, the sound of breaking stone, the cool weight of iron in his hand. It had all felt so real. Too real.
He blinked at the darkness above him. The wooden boards of the cupboard were the same as ever, and the smell of dust and mildew hung thick in the air.
But something was off. His body felt. . . off, almost like it did in the blocky world — though subtler, harder to define.
But as he was pondering this the cupboard door swung open with a creak. Vernon's shadow loomed large in the doorway.
"Get up. Your aunt wants breakfast ready before Dudley's awake."
Harry moved automatically. Years of routine dulled his reactions, but beneath that dullness was a building emotion.
One he always felt when seeing the Dursleys but had always been suppressed, and for a fleeting second, when he blinked, he swore he saw the faint outline of a menu tab flicker before his eyes.
He froze for a split second. Then it vanished.
Harry rubbed his eyes and quickly forced himself to stand. Taking to much time would only bring pain he knew that all too well.
In the kitchen, the smell of frying bacon filled the air.
Petunia hovered nearby, one arm on her hip the other on a frying pan with bacon inside, watching him like a hawk. Harry reached for a plate — and there it was again.
A faint shimmer. A pixelated outline of the plate in his hand. His breath caught.
The plate slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
Harry mentally cursed himself for the slip up
Petunia still holding the hot pan with the bacon shrieked.
"You clumsy little—"
Harry turned, startled, but before he could react, something hot and painful hit him.
A slightly dazed feeling formed in his mind though as he thought about it, it felt a lot less painful and dizzying than the previous time.
His mind was buzzing and he quickly saw another strike incoming, however something shifted. The world seemed to slow.
The faint flicker of light returned — the translucent inventory box, the faint outline of iron, glowing softly in the air before him.
He didn't remember choosing it. It was simply there.
A metallic and squelching sound, the faint ring of steel against air — and then silence.
When his senses caught up, Harry was standing in the middle of the kitchen, trembling.
The item bar faintly glowing at the bottom of his vision, leaving only his ragged breathing and the faint sizzle of bacon that fell from the pan.
His hands shook. His mind was blank. He didn't understand what had just happened — only that everything had changed.
Then Vernon's voice boomed from the hall, louder and angrier than ever before. The sight that met him froze Harry where he stood.
Vernon's rage was pure, unthinking. He charged forward — and realizing that if he did not do something fast, his life would most probably end right here.
He didn't remember how it happened. Only that a moment later, he was outside — barefoot, heart pounding, the morning air cold against his face.
The house behind him was silent. Too silent.
Harry stumbled down the street, his breath shallow, his mind spinning. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even care. All he know was everything has changed and he had to find a place to hide and calm down, he would need to in order to be able think properly.
He swallowed hard, mind clouded with uncertainty, he did not look back, as he ran a new thought entered his mind one that made his very soul lit ablaze.
For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was truly free, even if he had no idea where exactly he was going. Such a thing did not matter to him all, because he knew that he was finally free.
As Harry ran from the house he never noticed the faint sound of the blood wards tied to the house and residents shatter.