A/N : This will be a short story , probably upto 5 chapters. I always wanted to explore this concept. I believe our life is a dream too. We are in a dream of an universal conscience.
Doctor Patrick was having an excellent start to the day. It was the crack of dawn. The air smelled wonderful and most importantly the coffee on his table was just right. As he took a sip and closed his eyes to enjoy the taste, a distant approaching ambulance broke his concentration. Here we go, he sighed. Being the emergency doctor was no fun. He quickly made his way towards the casualty ward and saw his staff bringing in two people on stretchers. One was a young man with unruly black hair and the other..here patrick stilled. He was an Albino, but most grotesque was his flattened snake like nose. Someone was saying, "...found them near the edge of the Black woods. Completely knocked out..Luckily someone saw them..Harry Potter theme party gone wrong I would say..eh!"
And yes. It was true. They did look like Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. It was almost as if someone glanced in JK Rowling's mind and manifested them into reality. Patrick was surprised at the remarkable cosmetic surgery done on the Voldemort look alike. The skin had been stripped off melanin , the nose cartilage was removed and the nostrils had been made into slits. It seemed a dangerous and highly illegal surgery. Patrick was sure, the man's pupils would be snake like as well.
The boy looked normal, a little on the under nourished side with the famous scar and hair. The scar was the only abnormal part of him. Again a cosmetic procedure, Patrick mused.
He was still contemplating whether they would find more such people , when one of the interns guffawed loudly. He was holding two wooden sticks.
The first thing he noticed, or rather felt was that it was warm. He was lying on a bed. There was a tiny prickly pain on the back of his hand. Constant beeps, near his right was the only sound. Almost immediately, memories after memories came rushing..He remembered Voldemort, he remembered the fatal green light rushing at him. His chest felt cold. Slowly he opened his eyes. A soft white ceiling stared at him. Idly he looked around. He seemed to be in a Muggle hospital. An IV was attached to his hand. His cloak was replaced with a hospital gown. So this was Death. He felt oddly detached as he took in the surrounding. Death was strange he thought. He still had his body and thoughts.
Slowly as his mind aligned, he considered the possibility that maybe, he was NOT dead. This felt too real. Maybe he had unconsciously apparated in some Muggle area and was picked up by someone. Now that his heart had caught up, fear descended. If he was here, then surely others would have.. no he could not think that way..He must escape. He must find out the situation and act cautiously..
There was another patient beside his bed , separated by a curtain. The person seemed to be unconscious too. Soon a nurse came and with slight hesitation, changed the person's clothes as well.
A few minutes passed and he was left alone with his thoughts..
"Hello Potter.." a voice quietly spoke and Harry could not believe it. Voldemort was lying on the bed beside him calmly staring at the ceiling.