Here is the revised first chapter. It's shorter than the old one, but there are still additions and subtractions. Don't get me wrong, the old chapter is not lost. I will share the rest after rewriting and editing.
29 June 1942
I open my eyes with a terrible headache, as if someone had stuck an axe in the centre of my forehead and left it there. I've had this feeling before, so I know exactly what happens next. As I drag myself out of bed with difficulty, I start to get everything out of my stomach on the edge of the bed. God I hate being hungover. I've never been this bad before, though. I can't remember what I did last night. I hope it was worth it. The next thing I realised was that I wasn't in my own room. I was in a much older room with much older furniture. When my eyes fell on a mirror on the other side of the room, I froze in shock. The person I saw in the mirror was not me. Although I guess I should have been able to tell that by my beard. While I was trying to figure out what had happened, someone decided to bring a new axe and new memories to my head. As the pain exceeded the limits of what I could bear, the darkness embraced me with great happiness and I fainted. The only bad thing about it was that I fell face down directly on my own vomit.
1 July 1942
I woke up with a familiar headache brought on by a hangover and hunger pangs rising from my stomach. I don't know what happened last night, but I'll never drink that much again. As I stood up with difficulty from a pile of dried vomit, I caught my eye on the mirror in front of me again and remembered everything that happened yesterday. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I'm not in my body and the bad news doesn't end there. Now you might say, what could be worse than not being in your own body. Being in the body of a fictional character in a simple fictional world. Literally in the body of Rubeus Hagrid from Harry Potter. How do I know that? It's just a bunch of memories swirling around in my head. The memories of Rubeus Hagrid are as clear as if I had lived them myself. When I stop and think for a moment, I realise how I got here, at least in part. After Hagrid lost his father to an illness earlier this summer, he found his father's secret stash of ale and mead. These drinks probably contained magical ingredients that had been put there to strengthen their effects. So Hagrid began to drink out of grief. until he ended up in a magical alcohol coma that killed him. How I managed to reincarnate remains a mystery.
With another hunger pang and roar rising from my stomach, instead of pondering the mysteries of reincarnation, I decided to take care of my basic needs first, and yes, roar: I refuse to call it grunting.
After a quick shower to wash the vomit off me, I went back to the bedroom and saw myself in the mirror once more. God, I knew Hagrid was big, but I didn't realise how big he was. Even though he was only 12 or 13 years old, he was about 165 cm to 175 cm. And he had a beard like he was at least in his twenties, not a kid. NBA scouts would drool over him.
With another roar rising from my stomach, I decided to go to the kitchen without lingering any longer. When I got to the kitchen, the sight waiting for me was horrible. I am not a fan of hygiene and cleanliness, but this place was extremely bad. There were half-eaten food waste and piles of dirty dishes everywhere. I won't go into too much detail, but it was obvious that Hagrid hadn't bothered to clean up after his father's death. I took a deep breath, took out Hagrid's wand and was about to cast a cleaning spell that I remembered from my memories when I stopped. As far as I remember, in the Harry Potter world, young wizards were forbidden to use magic at home and the ministry supervised young wizards with a method called trace, but then I remembered that Hagrid had used magic more than once since his father's death and I tried to cast a cleaning spell. Unfortunately, nothing happened. With the hunger and headache intensifying, I didn't think much about it and started looking for something to eat. Everything else was the problem of the future Alex.
8 July 1942
A week had passed since I woke up in my new body, and it was only after the meal that I realised the cause of the terrible hunger. For almost two days I lay unconscious in a pile of vomit, no wonder I was so hungry, hunger dominated all my thoughts.
Of course, many things had happened in the time that had passed since then. Firstly, I hadn't lost my magic. That thought scared me to death. It was like a nightmare to be thrown into the middle of a world of magic and miracles and left without magic. Fortunately, after hours of working with Hagrid's old wand, or Hagrid's father's old wand, I had created an uncontrolled burst of magic out of anger and frustration. Breaking the coffee table in the living room in half. Poor coffee table, your sacrifice will be remembered. From this incident it was easy to understand that I had not lost my magic, it was just that both wands no longer recognised me as their master. Thanks to my knowledge of Harry Potter, I knew that this could happen, and I also knew that young wizards would find it difficult to do magic with wands that were not theirs. So I knew what I had to do. Get a new wand.
Another good news was that I had an innate magical ability. Innate magical ability was a magical ability that a magician or witch developed at birth. For example, Nymphadora Tonks had the metamorphamus ability. The metamorphmagus ability allowed a person to change their physical appearance as they wished.
My ability allowed me to communicate with animals and plants. It allowed me to form a kind of telepathic and empathic bond with them and feel their emotions. I could tell if the animals were angry or if the plants needed watering. I know from Hagrid's memories that he had this ability, but it was weaker. It only worked on magical animals. No wonder Hagrid was so good with magical animals. After all, he even managed to train an acromantula. By the way, the egg of the acromantula in question was in my bedroom. Apparently the egg was his father's last gift to Hagrid. No wonder Aragog was so dear to him.
Anyway, I'm on my way to Diagon Alley to buy my new wand.
As I walked to the door to leave the house, I instinctively stopped in the doorway. I'd hardly been out last week, except to take out the rubbish. The kitchen and the house had turned into a complete rubbish house. I could have sworn it was the representation of hell on earth for any hygiene freak.
Only this time it was different. The door was a threshold. A threshold between Alexander Taylor and Rubeus Hagrid. When I stepped through the door I was Rubeus Hagrid, not Alexander Taylor, and the realisation of that stopped me in my tracks for a moment. It may sound ridiculous to some, but it was real. For the first time I would meet other people not as Alex. I was going to meet other people as Rubeus. Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly took my first step outside. The next steps seemed easier.
So I crossed the garden and stopped just outside the gate. I took out my wand and waved it gently. I didn't know what to expect. I hadn't found any Floo powder at home and I didn't know how to travel by apparition. There was only one option left, to get to London. Thank God my worries were unfounded and the knight bus appeared in front of me in a few seconds.
The double-decker bus was just there. 'Knight Bus' was written in gold letters on the windscreen. Then a ticket agent in a purple uniform came out of the bus and started to speak loudly.
'Welcome to the Knight Bus, the emergency transport for stranded witches and wizards. Reach out the hand holding your wand, hop on the bus and we'll take you wherever you want to go.'
Rubeus nodded his head in understanding and boarded the bus.
'Where are you travelling to?' asked the ticket agent.
'London, leaky Cauldron.'
'Eight sickles.'
I nodded and handed him 8 sickles and went to the back and took a seat. Almost as soon as I was seated the bus moved off and after 20 of the shakiest 20 minutes I've ever experienced in my life, I got off the bus as the ticket agent wished me a good day. I had to catch my breath on the side of the road for a few minutes and push everything moving from my stomach to my throat back into place to get out. Merlin, the wizards and witches who built this bus were definitely missing a few boards. Who in their right mind would create such a means of transport.
After recovering myself, I walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. When I entered, I quickly glanced around and it was exactly as I remembered.
When the barman Edmure Abbot saw him, he waved and greeted him.
'Hello, Hagrid. I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your father. If you need any help, don't forget to let me know.'
'Hello, Mr Abbot. I'm trying to get over it, I had some business on the street today. That's why I came.' I replied to his greeting.
'Bon voyage and happy shopping, Hagrid,' he said, then went back to his work in the pub.