The alarm didn't ring. It screamed.A banshee-level wail ripped through Domino's apartment, and the man responsible for ignoring it buried his face deeper into the pillow.
"Five more minutes," he muttered.The universe—being the usual uncooperative jerk—answered with a power cut.
The fan stopped. The room fell silent. Then the heat of late summer punched him awake.
Domino groaned, swung his legs off the bed, and squinted at the dead clock. "Perfect. I'm officially late to being underpaid."
He stumbled through his one-room flat, tripping over an empty pizza box, nearly killing himself on a half-broken chair, and catching a glimpse of his reflection in the cracked mirror.Dark circles. Messy hair. Shirt with a coffee stain shaped like Australia.The portrait of corporate survival.
His phone buzzed.[Boss]: You're not here yet, are you?
Domino typed back:[Domino]: In the elevator.Then he stared at the ceiling, sighed, and added, "In the elevator of life, maybe."
He pulled on his faded blazer—the one that made him look slightly less homeless—and dashed out.
Outside, the city was a blur of honking cars, neon ads, and pedestrians walking like their lives depended on beating a countdown only they could see.Domino joined the race, coffee in one hand, bag in the other.
His brain began the daily ritual of regret.He should've studied harder.Should've chased dreams.Should've, at the very least, bought an alarm clock that didn't sound like a dying robot.
But no—he had chosen the safe route: a desk job at Marrow & Co. Logistics, a company so dull it could sedate caffeine.
As he reached the corner café, the smell of burnt espresso gave him a moment of fragile peace.He fished for coins. The barista, a college kid with pink headphones, looked up.
"Late again, Mr. Domino?"
"Punctuality is an illusion," he said, yawning. "Only coffee is real."
She laughed, sliding him a cup that said Dommo in crooked marker. He didn't bother correcting it.
Back on the street, rain began to drizzle. The gray sky reflected perfectly how Domino felt—half asleep, half existing.His office wasn't far, but the crosswalk light flickered red just as he reached it.
He sighed, sipping the bitter brew."I swear, if reincarnation is real, I better come back as someone who actually gets a vacation."
Somewhere in the distance, a horn blared.He looked up.
A truck roared down the slick road, swerving through the intersection.Its headlights flared white.For a heartbeat, the whole world froze—rain suspended mid-air, droplets like glass shards around him.
Then—impact.
No pain. Just light. Endless, blinding light.
And a voice, calm and cold:
"System online. Host successfully terminated."
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The world started with that one sound.Not angels. Not flames. Just… an alarm clock.
"Ughhh," Domino groaned, face buried in something soft. His hand slapped blindly across the nightstand.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Shut up, you bit—" he mumbled, finally smacking something hard enough to make the beeping stop.Silence. Blessed silence.He grinned sleepily. "There we go… peace at las—"
Then something felt wrong.
The blanket was too smooth. The air smelled faintly of flowers and parchment, not motor oil and cold pizza.And—wait—why were his arms… smaller?
Domino blinked, groaning as he sat up.The room wasn't his apartment. It was bright, neat, and very, very British-looking — all polished wood and floating candles.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
He looked down.And froze.
Slender hands.No hair on the arms.A long nightgown.
He grabbed a lock of hair — brown. Wavy."Oh no. No. No no no—"
A mirror stood across the room.Domino stumbled to it, heartbeat pounding.
The reflection stared back at him — brown eyes, intelligent, sharp, familiar from a thousand movie posters and memes.
"Hermione… freaking… Granger!?"
Ding!A blue, glowing screen appeared midair.
[SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE]User successfully teleported into universe: Harry Potter.Host identity: Hermione Jean Granger.Welcome, Domino. Please refrain from panic attacks.
Domino blinked at the floating text.He slapped his cheek.It hurt.
"This is a dream," he whispered. "A dream with terrible fanfiction energy."
The system beeped again.
Mission #1: Attend class. Do not die.Bonus Objective: Pretend to know magic.
"…Oh yeah," Domino muttered. "This is fine. Totally fine."
He turned toward the door, tripped on the nightgown, and faceplanted.Somewhere outside, a voice yelled, "Hermione! We're going to be late!"
Domino groaned. "Oh shut up, you—"
He looked up.The voice was Harry Potter's.