The first thing to break the silence was a sharp, pained gasp.
Ron Weasley jolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic bird. A wave of dizziness swamped him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden, throbbing ache behind his temples. The last thing he remembered… what was the last thing? The common room? Firelight? The frantic gossip about Sirius Black, the escaped murderer, lurking somewhere in the castle… and then… nothing. A great, black nothing.
He wasn't in his four-poster bed. The smell was all wrong—stale air, dust, and something faintly metallic. The surface beneath him was thin, lumpy, and creaked with his every movement.
He forced his eyes open, and the world swam into a bleary, terrifying focus.
He was in a tiny, box-like room, walls a dull, off-white color stained with patches of damp. A single, naked light bulb hung from a wire in the ceiling, unlit. The only light came from a large, grimy window, through which a forest of towering, alien structures clawed at a pale, smoggy sky. They were impossibly tall, glass and steel monoliths that dwarfed anything in London or even Diagon Alley. This wasn't just not-Hogwarts; this wasn't anywhere he knew.
A frantic movement to his left made him flinch. On the floor, tangled in a heap, was a boy with a pale, pointed face and sleek, dark hair. His Slytherin robes were rumpled, and his grey eyes were wide with a mixture of fury and panic. Ron recognized him vaguely—Theodore Nott. They'd never spoken a word.
"Where is this?" Nott's voice was low and sharp, cutting through the stillness. He wasn't asking Ron; he was demanding answers from the room itself. "What is the meaning of this?"
Before Ron could form a word, a groan came from the other side of the narrow bed. Another boy was pushing himself up from the floor, rubbing his temple. He had a calm, intelligent face, though it was now etched with confusion. His Ravenclaw badge gleamed dully. Anthony Goldstein, Ron thought. He was in a few of his year's classes.
"Easy," Anthony said, his voice steady but strained. "Everyone just… breathe. Panicking won't help." He looked around, his gaze analytical, taking in the peeling paint, the single, sad-looking bed, and the staggering view. "Does anyone… remember how we got here?"
A small, shuddering breath drew Ron's attention to the corner. Curled up on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, was a young girl. She couldn't be older than a first-year. Her long, silvery-blonde hair hid her face, but her small frame trembled under her Slytherin robes. Astoria Greengrass. Ron only knew her because of her older sister, Daphne.
"No," Ron mumbled, his own voice hoarse. "One minute I was in the common room, listening to Dean go on about Black… and then…" He gestured helplessly at the alien cityscape. "This."
Nott was on his feet now, prowling the small space like a caged animal. He tried the room's only door. It was locked, solid and unyielding. He slammed a fist against it, the sound unnaturally loud in the confined space. "Let us out! Is this some kind of joke? My father will—"
"Your father isn't here," Anthony interjected, his calmness beginning to crack at the edges. "Whoever did this, they clearly aren't intimidated by him. Look out there." He pointed to the window. "Have you ever seen buildings like that? Even Muggles don't have architecture like that. This isn't Britain. This might not even be… our world."
The gravity of his words settled over them like a shroud. The four of them—a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, and two Slytherins, strangers bound only by their school robes—huddled in the silence of the room. The familiar comfort of Hogwarts, the known dangers of Sirius Black, even the predictable torment of Malfoy—all of it was gone, replaced by this terrifying, silent unknown.
Ron looked from Nott's controlled fury to Anthony's forced rationality, to the trembling form of the little girl in the corner. His own fear was a cold stone in his gut. His wand was gone. They were trapped. And outside the window, a world of impossible scale and strangeness waited, utterly indifferent to their plight.
The journey into the unknown had begun, not with a bang, but with a locked door and a skyline that promised nothing but more questions.