Harry James Potter, the Chosen One, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Lived Twice, The Workaholic Wizard of East London, looked down despairingly at his map, then back up at the forbidding looking forest before him filled with dark impenetrable shadows and glowing eyes starring sinisterly out from the odd bush, then looked back down at the cheerful Transylvanian map, the happy little sunshine face, its rays the compass directions of the area staring up at him.
"Bother," he sighed, stuffing the map back into his large back pack messily and with a grumble pushed his way forward down the barest trace of a worn over grown path.
Harry had come to discover that the novelty of hiking in the middle of nowhere was an activity that had quickly lost its allure for a man who was used to magical travel everywhere he went, or at the very least the occasional trolley ride.
What he wouldn't give for a decent broom! Why, if this had been an actual vacation of the nature that his concerned co-workers and best friends had been harassing him to have the past year, he would have packed for the possibility of potential footsore.
What lead to our hero's present grumbling over foot blisters at the mouth of a rather shady looking Forrest in the middle of nowhere?
ooo ooo ooo
It had started out as a simple favor for his old friend Headmaster Longbottom.
Recently the headmaster had sacked the latest incarnation of Defense Against the Dark Arts Proffessor, who had been using the cover of Chaperoning Hogsmede weekends to meet up with buyers for an illegal brand of Love Potions.
During interrogation, the Ex-Professor/Drug Dealer had admitted under Vetriserum that they had been storing a dark artifact in one of the many storage closets at the school. Weary of what it could be, the Headmaster had known immediately who to call.
Harry, who'd been about to clock out after a 26 hour stint chasing dragon smugglers across half of Europe, had just received the request by owl.
Harry sighed, returning his Employee card back into the "On Duty" slot, rolling his eyes when Auror Captain Anthony Goldstien stuck his head out of his office and barked about his costing the department in overtime, blah blah, "take a week off Merlin dammnit! You look horrible!" Yada yada.
Harry had just waved to his aggrieved boss and took the first open Ministry Floo to Hogwarts immediately. After all, the Headmaster was an old friend of his and had asked for him specifically, it wasn't like he couldn't handle this one last small chore.
It was supposed to be a quick in and out containment and retrieval from one of Hogwart's many storage rooms. Nothing more, nothing less. Then he could head home to get some much needed sleep after he filled out those reports he had in backlog of course. he needed everything done before Hermione made good on her increasing threat level to drag him to the closest Spa for a week of...*shutter* relaxation.
Of course, as it will soon turn out, Hermione would never be able to make good on that threat/promise of sea weed wraps, deep tissue massage and Monty Python Bingeing.
No one expects a person who had spent 10 years as part of the Auror Corps and had survived the countless hazards that came with the job, 34 stalkers of varying flavors, 1 failed marriage, 17 blind dates, Godfatherhood, and an enchanted partridge in a pear tree that nearly destroyed British Columbia, to be taken down in such a mundane setting as a closet.
And what fiendish circumstance finally downs our veteran hero in the prime of life?
A lamp.
And not even a nice one! A raunchy fishnet leg lying right in his path as he was searching for the ill-gotten goods, and the great hero of the Wizarding World, perhaps a bit more tired then he would have admitted at the time, is a bit slow on the reflexes in in the vital moment that the tips of his dragonhide boot connects with a ceramic 4-inch stiletto heel and stumbles forward, arms pinwheeling and unable to stay upright. Harry fell arse over biting tea kettle into a full-sized silver framed mirror leaning innocently against a giant pallid bust of Pallas.
Harry expected shattered glass, perhaps a bump on the noggin, maybe even a turned ankle, not to continue falling directly into a vortex into another dimension.
ooo ooo ooo
Harry sighed, running a hand through his greasey hair, longing for the hot shower that would likely still be a long time off.
'How quickly we realize how for granted we take the simple luxuries in our life,' he mused to himself as he strode forward.
Of course, this wasn't the only time that Harry had this thought...
ooo ooo ooo
Harry never liked Rutabaga.
It could have been the fact that it was the only vegetable Dudley consented to eat, which made it his chore to cook growing up, his Aunt desperate for that glimmer of healthy for her Duddykins to make it to 30 without a heart attack.
Though it could have been because the accursed vegetables had been a key ingredient in a new potion that had caused a string of murderous flying cows that had taken over a small dairy town in Wales, the events of which sent him to the hospital for a solid week of recovery.
Whatever the reason, he hated the taste, the texture, the way they looked.
And of course, it was a Rutabaga field that Harry would found himself in, stark naked and completely confused as to how he had gotten where he was.
He'd been forced to use Rutabaga leaves to cover his bits, and actually...eat one when a few days of no food overcame his personal revulsion.
During this brief dark period in his life, Harry quickly came to the conclusion that not only had he tripped into a magic mirror that apparently had a come as you are policy, birthday suit variety, but also had transported him to another dimension.
Harry had become rather in tune with his magic, and the magic around him over the years. There is a certain...flavor to it, and the flavor of the magic in this new world was decidedly different. He couldn't say how it was different, just that it was.
The second clue was his attempt to summon the cloths from a scarecrow near by a frowning farmer from his hidden position in the vegetables, and had accidentally summoned not only the scarecrow, but the farmer, his tractor, and half a barn.
Luckily the farmer had survived, but had obviously not been happy, and gave Harry a good chase for a solid mile before he got tired and stomped back home.
After that, Harry had tried a few more of the skimpy repertoire of wandless spells that he had known. All of which had ended in a disaster that had inadvertently terrorized nearby muggles.
Harry, after stealing the first bits of cloths he could off the line of a turnip farmer, he had ended up wandering for the next few weeks from one small village to the next, staying long enough to pick up what information he could from the odd English speaker in the area, do a few odd jobs to earn him a meal or two, a bit of supplies, the occasional roof over his head.
After nearly a month of wandering around the country he would learn was named Transylvania, he found himself in a small city at the base of the Carpathian mountains. he had stumbled into a bar, looking for work, desperately hungry as his luck had not been good in that department for the past few days, and that is where his luck seemed to turn for the better. A kindly tavern Queen had noticed his gaunt features and penniless pockets, and had swooped him up, offering him food, shelter and a bit of money if he covered for Bloody Mary, who needed to see her dying mother.
After learning the basics of tucking, walking in heels, make-up application, and other essentials in a quick crash course, The Countess was left to entertain and titillate the rowdy crowds.
When Bloody Mary returned, she'd been so pleased with how The Countess had handled everything, that she'd handed him a slightly larger then agreed upon wad of cash, an actual map, and directed him northwest of the Dark Forrest just past the mountains, which would take him to a small town that was said to have a youth hostel with jobs perfect for the traveling backpacking vagabond.
ooo ooo ooo
Harry snorted, he was certainly no youngster! That ship had sailed ages ago, even if his body perhaps was left at port. it was a constant source of consternation for him that he was always carded anytime he went into the muggle world with his co-workers.
it wasn't even that he looked underage, more that early-twenties youthfulness that could be a teenager masquerading as someone older. It was a headache that he refused to deal with or even think about, even as the whispers around his lack of wrinkles and the latest witch weekly rumor that he was addicted to de-aging potions began to circulate the fickle public. He had stopped caring and just let people believe what they want to believe. Once he had his first grey hair they'd eventually leave off.
Harry soon become lost, and now he was wondering if maybe he should double back and take his chances on the main road a half day's trek back, maybe display a little leg and get a ride at the next town, maybe try his chances there?
Harry sighed, with his luck, the driver might be some mass murderer of innocent hitchhikers for all he knew, and with his magic on the fritz he wasn't exactly keen to depend on the potential kindness of strangers who would likely find their bits scattered from Transylvania to Timbucktoo (if this Universe had one that is).
Harry meandered through the forest, unbothered by the presence of numerous ghosts haunting the trees, nor the occasional red eyed creatures, giant toads, man-eating snakes, or spiders the size of his head that spun "Beware!" and "Turn Back Now!" in their webs.
He was used to the Forbidden Forrest of home, which had its own fair share of magical dangers, so he barely blinked at the gloomy doom.
It was long into night fall by the time that he stumbled across signs of human civilization in the form of an old large graveyard. Unfortunately, it was heavily populated by what looked like inferi, even if they didn't particularly act like them. Harry didn't hold out much hope that there was anyone living nearby, but at least was heartened by the first visible presence of the supernatural that the forest had given him so far.
It was perhaps this that had him lingering long enough to notice that a group of them, all dressed in identical uniforms of dusty burgundy outfits with pill hats, and all of whom seemed to be shuffling in a singular direction through the trees.
Harry figured, what the hell? And followed swiftly behind the shambling hoard.
It was roughly an hour later, Harry slipped into what appeared to be some sort of underground passage that opened up onto a well paved trail that lead to a long draw bridge of an impressive well-lit castle.
Harry noticed that both himself and the Inferi were not alone either as there appeared to be a small line of hearses, a mail truck, and lines of…. beings? with suitcases in hand looking eager, as they crowded the wide stone road.
Harry swallowed as he recognized a few of the creatures chatting animatedly with each other, such as the hags zooming around on magical brooms (Harry eyed them enviously), walking skeletons that were taking selfies by a leaping parade of Piranha coming from the moat below, zooming stoic gargoyles in a Hawaiian shirts wings beating lazily as they glided to the front of the line with ease, furry gremlins of varying colors, one of which ate the suitcase of a Fishmen arguing with humanoid plant on the benefits of onions, flying brains, living mummies, and creatures he had no idea about all excitedly heading in the direction of a tall vast castle that rose above them in glowing splendor, the iron spiked gate they funneled through proclaiming.
"Welcome To Hotel Transylvania."
Taking advantage of the cover that the hoard had given him, Harry slipped away unseen into the nearby shadows of some neglected statue where he clambered a top a nearby bust of a snarling wolf in a pompadour that was half hidden by a gloomy weeping willow, and decided to wait out the crowd out of sight and think.
This was the first time that he had seen actual evidence of magical beings other then himself and the recent supernatural creatures in the forest. Certainly, he had heard the stories of vampires, Frankenstein's monster, Zombies (which he supposed was these inferi-like fellows), Wolfmen, etc. in his travels from the locals and tourists, but he was uncertain if they'd had any merit of truth until now.
You never can tell when it comes to muggle stories after all, The Sword in the Stone still made him laugh his head off.
Harry took the time to observe and listen in on the chatter of passing monsters, and soon discerned that he had stumbled upon some sort of Monster exclusive Hotel where they went for vacation away from the vile presence of monstrous humans.
Whatever the reason, he had to admit that there was certainly a draw towards stepping inside a magic castle, even if it was the magic inherent to the manager and the guests, not so much wizardry, and be around other magical beings again, maybe even help himself to one of those brooms (Harry again eyed the airborne hags covetously).
The only drawback to this was the possibility of revealing himself to magical beings who he knew nothing about. Added incentive to this, was the overheard general sentiment that many of the monsters where escaping the press of human civilizations.
A few off-color comments and cracks about humans here and there clued Harry that this particular group was not exactly open to a human in their midst, whether he was a faulty dimension hopping wizard or not, he was still technically grade A Homosapien.
Harry also surmised that magical creatures and beings here, unlike some from home, were home grown from birth or created from other magical means. Harry eyed the family of wolf people, a pregnant Wolfwoman, a ravenous hoard of puppy children, and a blood shot eyed Wolfman in a generic white collar stepping out of a hearse. The werewolves, if you could even call them that really in this dimension were certainly different, being a more permanent anthropomorphic canines.
Eventually the crowd began to thin and Harry knew that he would need to decide what to do soon.
The hating humans was a check in the "Nope" colum. He wasn't keen on accidentally turning the entire area into a 50 ft crater in self defense, nor was he suicidal enough to avoid defending himself to spare lives while he was torn apart, if anyone was the type to do so of course.
Then again, someone here might have information on how he could get home, which was a definite check mark in the "go for it" column. This was likely the highest concentration of magical in the entire world of this dimension. He had no idea if their were even any magical humans to begin with, this was as best as any a place to start looking.
'Besides, its not like this is your first time utilizing a reckless plan to save your skin,' Harry mentally reminded himself, which he reluctantly had to agree, which just added another tick in the "go for it."
Weighing the pros and cons on the matter of sneaking in to the monster hotel seemed to be tipped in favor of going for it. Harry smirked as he slunk down the statue, and here Hermione had always complained that he never weighed his decisions.
'Alright, so sneaking in it is,' Harry hummed mentally, 'that means I need a disguise," silently mourning the lack of invisibility cloak.
Harry bit his lip, trying to think of the best way to do that.
Harry paced in the shadows behind the statue, but the only thing he could think of might not be the best idea, if it would even work in the first place.
During his last year at Hogwarts after the war, he'd taken the time to learn the Animagus transformation, both as an homage to the Mauraders, and the more practical necessity of a handy disguise to escape the attention of the Wzarding World, which, in the final year before his accident, had verged passed cult territory and into nearly accredited religion.
It was a constant source of embarrassment for him, and a headache he tried to not think about and avoid, much in the same way that he didn't think about his lack of wrinkles.
Anyway, the matter at hand. He had completed his Animagus training of course, and fortunately for him, it was an unassuming creature common enough that even here it was likely to be overlooked.
The drawback was that with access to magic as it was, this could either not work or he might potentially blow himself up in the attempt.
Harry cringed at the thought. Still, it was his only chance to get home, and he didn't think that he could come up with something believable enough to fool this clientele.
Besides, perhaps this wouldn't be to bad, after all Animagus transformations were a magic worked on the self, not on the environment, its possible that the magic here might be more receptive to a more natural self influence then trying to impose his will on others or the environment. He vaguely remembered something about the magic of self transfiguration being different then external magic or something.
Harry rubbed his chin, then decided that he didn't have much to lose, nor any choice if he wanted to get his arse back home so he'd give it a shot.
Harry made sure to retreat far enough from the castle that he wouldn't potentially kill people if things went pear shaped, sat down in the rotting leaves, and very carefully reached inwards towards his own magical core and began to tentatively call his Animagus form.
The world filled with that hazy warm golden mist that overcame a wizard briefly during transformation, and briefly, in the whip quick shift from human to animal, he could sense his body reworking itself into a new shape. This was a normal part of the transformation and felt a flare of elation that something, finally, was going magically his way.
When awareness returned, he looked down at himself and found a groan leaving his lips as he realized the view was still the same as his human one. In fact, he was still decidedly bipedal, though his normally chestnut brown skin was currently hairier then normal, displaying a pelt of short black fur.
Harry dug around until he pulled out his stolen compact and opened it to eye his reflection in the small mirror.
Harry groaned again, smacking the back of his head against a headstone when he saw the large scruffy ears sticking up from where his original human ears used to be, the elongated canines of his teeth, and the large equally scruffy tail sticking out of his backside, Harry flushed, sans pants, which had disappeared with his transformation.
"Merlin's balls! if the Chosen One's ever caught sight of me, i would never escape the erotic doujinshis in my inbox," Harry frowned sourly at his tail, "and half it would be entirely Malfoy."
Alright, so not precisely what he had been going for, and the fact that he couldn't seem to change back when he'd tried to return to his human form, but he felt alright, and he supposed he looked sufficiently non-human enough to pass for one of the various flavors of magical beings that he was reasonably sure he could wing it.
Harry paused only long enough to adjust his only other pair of pants (also stolen) for his tail and slipping them on before holding his head high and slipped into the next influx of vacationers, and ambling along as if he belonged all the way up and through the golden rotating glass doors.