Hi, this is a story that a muse inspired me to write. Hope you like it!

Sorry, about "Pseudomortis Part 7" but I've got some people reading it over now and I hope to get it back soon! I really want to get it finished! Thanks for putting up with me and the overwhelming homework I've been getting!

Please R&R!

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Counterpart

Prologue

By KZerina

Quidditch practice had just ended, and the others were waiting for him outside. Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter, having been elected captain before the Quidditch season had started, dueled the one Bludger that had been released for the mini game of scrimmage the team had played. Finally, he called the challenging orb to him with the Summoning Charm, stuffing it into the crate that already housed the Quaffle, the other Bludger, and the tiny golden Snitch.

The black-haired boy, thoroughly exhausted from practice and wrestling the most brutal thing in the most popular wizarding sport, except maybe a match between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses, tightly latched the supply box. He picked up one of his most prized possessions, the Firebolt he had received from his godfather, Sirius Black who was in hiding somewhere on the seven continents of the world. He slung the broomstick carefully over his shoulder and crossed the pitch with the box containing the four balls floating beside him.

About halfway to the exit, Harry heard soft footsteps in the grass behind him. He whipped around and saw nothing. He turned about slowly and vigilantly walked toward the door again. The near-silent steps returned, but this time, when Harry reeled around to look behind him, wand at the ready, his head met a hard, heavy object that he hit so fast he couldn't identify it. He fell forward onto the ground, mostly unconscious.

"That was too easy!" exclaimed a voice that sounded much like Harry's.

A silver-gilded hand removed Harry's wand from his grip. Harry tried to hold it tighter, but his body wouldn't respond; he couldn't hold on to it. Wormtail had his wand, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Give it to me, you insipient fool," came Harry's voice again.

Harry tried to look around, but he couldn't keep his drooping eyes open long enough to see anything to help him assess the mystifying situation.

"You'll have fun where your going, Potter," taunted his voice, acidly.

His wand was pushed into his neck at the base of his skull. Whatever it was that had his wand and voice was going to kill him, and he wasn't even allowed to go down in a duel.

"Stupefy!" the voice whispered unexpectedly.

Harry fell fully unconscious in an instant.

"Put him in," growled Harry's voice, motioning to a bag. "Quickly, you brainless jester! I don't even know why he keeps you around."

Wormtail stretched a canvas sack over Harry's head and struggled to insert the rest of his body. When success finally came to him, he slumped over his large parcel.

"Get out of here, clueless buffoon, before the others come and find you here," the mimicker commanded, irritably.

Wormtail fumbled around in his pocket for something. When he pulled it out and grabbed the top of the cumbersome bundle that was Harry, he disappeared from view with the old bottle cap portkey.

The fake Harry laughed a low, cold laugh, smirking villainously as he went took the Quidditch supplies up to the castle.

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So, did you like it? Hate it? Constructive criticism is welcomed; flames will be taken on a camping trip and used for cooking. Thanks for reading! Please review!

Thanks,

KZerina