Harry knew he'd fallen asleep in his laboratory. The lab had a particular scent to it that still lingered faintly in his nostrils. But the room he was currently in was wide and open, with some matching furniture and a stiff, high-backed chair that he was waking up in. The chair had no cushion, and was too short for his legs to rest comfortably, and both were screaming with pins-and-needles numbness. In one hand, he gripped his staff, and in the other was Bob's skull.
The wizard scowled. "Hell's bells," he muttered. "What the hell happened this time?"
He heard someone swear at the same time, and jumped to his feet, staff at the ready, bracing himself for a fight.
That was the intent, at least. His mostly numb legs gave out on him and Harry toppled to the floor, dropping his staff to catch himself and curling his other arm protectively around the skull. His feet hit some kind of side table on the way, knocking it over with a crash.