.
"I'm gonna get you, freak!"
Harry lowered his head and ran as fast as he could. Dudley and his gang were right behind him, and Dudley's threats sounded scarier than usual. And Harry would be the one in trouble if they caught him. He had to get away.
Get away, get away, get away! Please, someone help me!
It felt as though someone woke up and took notice, or maybe they were already awake and they took notice. Harry grabbed hold of the vision of an enormous hand, brown like wood, extending towards him, and—
And he was gone.
Harry looked around and stood up very slowly.
He was in a dark, dingy room of some kind. There was a mirror on the wall, and it showed him, his eyes wide with surprise and his mouth a little open. Because Aunt Petunia would have had something to say about it, Harry made an automatic effort to flatten his hair.
Then he looked around and his mouth dropped open further.
He was in a bedroom. One that sprawled so far he had trouble seeing the other wall through his broken and dirty glasses.
But right in front of him was a bed. It had dark green sheets on it and pillows that were so white Harry didn't want to touch them. He looked around, worried that the person who the bedroom belonged to would come in and yell at him for doing freaky things.