Press F5 to Fast-Flamel

Summary:
Harry Potter is yoinked from his home world, and ends up in a video game by accident. BvB duelists, armed cat rebels, fatal bouts of spontaneous nudity, and gaudy pieces of overly-talkative, homicidal, very-nearly-family heirlooms; there's a long list of obstacles he'll need to overcome to make his way home - or at least make it to the end of the next level.

.PF5tFF. .PF5tFF. .PF5tFF.

"Oh, Harry! Stop looking so scandalized," Padma giggled, while a self-playing guitar flew in a slow semicircle around their table. "The restaurant's owner probably thought it would add a bit of atmosphere to have live music, but didn't want to spend enough money to hire real musicians."

Harry scowled at a floating trumpet that was getting too close for his liking, and tried to bat it away with his spoon. "It's not the enchanted instruments I'm objecting to, Padma. I just don't understand why a posh French restaurant would hire a mariachi band, with or without musicians."

When the trumpet dodged his feint, Harry managed to grab hold of it. Dropping the spoon, he snatched his wadded-up napkin off the table, and crammed it into the trumpet. "Ha! Gotcha! But seriously, why would anyone try to mix France and Mexico? They're different continents!"

A waiter stopped by their table, placing a small basket between them. "Some bolillo bread, while you wait for your meal?" They thanked him, then turned back to their discussion as he wandered off to the next table.

Padma smiled and shook her head. "Are you worried that you'll order 'Le Gateau', and end up with 'El Gato'?" She took a sip of her water. "Anyway, you've only got yourself to blame, you know. You were the one who insisted on going to the Faire L'Andouille, said you'd heard all sorts of good things about the place."

Harry kept a wary eye on the muffled flying trumpet, while it retreated to a safe distance away from him so it could sulk. "Clearly, I was misinformed." He recovered his spoon and fussed a little over his utensils, putting them back in order. He paused when he felt eyes upon him. Glancing up, he found Padma watching him with a concerned expression.

"Harry, we've only been on two dates, so far," she said. "But I can tell when you're nervous and trying to distract yourself from it." She leaned closer. Harry did his best to maintain eye contact, despite the sudden increase in cleavage on display. "What's the matter, Harry?" - He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out again. "Padma... You're a wonderful person, and an attractive woman. You're fun, and intelligent, and-"

She held up a hand. "Harry... Are you breaking up with me?"

"Erm... W-well, uh," he stuttered. "That's, I mean... The point is, not to put it in so many words..."

He stopped and winced at her flat stare. "Uh... Y-yes?"

Padma's expression was carefully neutral, unreadable. "Oh."

"I-it's nothing against you, I just don't feel that... That spark, you know?" Harry hastened to add. "I think... I think we'd both be better off, seeing other people."

Padma slumped in her chair. "Oh, thank goodness," she breathed. "I was worried I was the only one, feeling that way."

Harry perked up. "...You do?" His anxious frown was blooming into a hopeful smile.

"Don't get me wrong, you're a sweet and considerate guy," she said, putting her hands on his arm and giving him a comforting squeeze. "And you somehow manage to look both rakishly handsome, and cute in a clueless way, like an overgrown puppy, all at the same time."

"Er," Harry said with an awkward smile. "Thanks, I guess?"

Padma smiled back, leaning her head to one side. "We're just not meant to be together, y'know?"

Harry nodded with great emphasis. "I agree completely. You're pretty amazing, and you deserve to be with someone who can truly appreciate you for how special you are."

"Aww," she cooed. "You're so sweet!"

A large sombrero hat flew up to their table, undulating through the air like a multicolored zigzag-striped manta ray. "Hola, muchachos! You two look like a muy adorable couple! You would like to hear some romantic music, si?" It started to flop one side of its brim up and down in a curling motion, waving the enchanted mariachi instruments back to the table.

Looking her deep in the eyes, Harry smiled and picked up Padma's hands, cradling them in his own. "Padma Patil... I don't love you."

She grinned. "I don't love you, either."

The sombrero stopped ushering the instruments closer, staring at Harry and Padma. "Ehh... You two need time, order meal, get drinks, file divorce papers? Is okay, no problem. We go, we come back later, si?" A hovering accordion was worming its way slowly closer to the table, but was halted with a rude 'blart!' noise when the sombrero swatted it away with its brim.

Harry turned to look at the talking hat. "Out of curiosity, were you actually, uh... Enchanted in Mexico, or...?"

"Oh, no, senor," said the sombrero, shaking its hat. "I'm from Somerset, but the wizard who stitch me together, he think I should have ridiculous stupido stereotype accent." It flipped around in midair, turning its opening towards them. "Tip for the band, before I go?"

Harry sighed and dug a few coins out from his pocket, tossing them in the hat.

Miraculously - or magically - the coins did not tumble out when the sombrero spun back around, right side up. "Muchos gracias! Enjoy your meal!"

Once the sombrero had flown off to harass the other diners, pushing the instruments ahead of itself with its wide brim, Harry turned back to Padma.

Whatever he was about to say was lost, as a whirling vortex of purplish-green energy sprang into existence in front of the far wall, over a table that was filled with dancing flower decorations.

"Damn," Harry muttered, drawing his wand. "Looks like this date was about to be cut short, anyway."

Wand likewise in hand, Padma eyed the churning miasma of mystical power. "Maybe it's just part of the restaurant's planned entertainment?"

Around the room, waiters and assorted flying enchanted artifacts could be heard joining the frightened diners in cries of: "Help!", and "What in Merlin's name is that?!", and "Ay, caramba! That thing is definitely not part of the planned entertainment, gringos! This is loco!"

A strong wind started whistling through the restaurant, towards the luminous rift in reality. The marigolds, who'd just switched from a waltz to a foxtrot, began screaming as best their cute little flowery voices allowed, when they were lifted into the air by the suction from the sinkhole in the space-time continuum above them. Seconds later, they vanished into the vortex.

"Sorry, I should probably deal with this," Harry said over his shoulder, looking away from Padma as he hurried to flick Sticking Charms at the other restaurant-goers, keeping them in their seats and gluing their chairs to the floor, stopping people from being sucked towards the glowing rift.

"Just because crazy things happening at Hogwarts usually centered on you, doesn't mean that this has anything to do with you," Padma called out, raising her voice over the noise of screaming wizards and witches, and the ominous droning warble of the vortex. She waved her wand in a figure-eight motion, catching a table with an Accio charm when it soared past and sent it back away from the shining rift. Sticking the table to a wall and using it as a barricade, she cast a string of Summoning Charms with deft and practiced ease, plucking people out of the chaotic mess of airborne restaurant detritus flying past, and scooped them behind the table into nominal safety.

Over the rising din, a chorus of voices rang out from the heart of the rift in reality. "Harry Potter... Harry Potter... Harry Harry Harry Potter... Ïa ftaghn... Bring us Harry Harry Potter," they chanted.

"Alright, this is probably about you," Padma groused.

"Don't worry, Padma," Harry shouted, his body dangling nearly horizontally in the howling winds, hanging on with one hand to their Sticking-Charmed table, that was valiantly staying attached to the floor. "Next time, I'm sure you'll get to have a zany adventure that almost gets you killed! Just focus on saving the bystanders for now, alright?"

"Aw, you say the nicest things, Harry!" Padma hollered, putting up a Protego to shield herself, three shell-shocked looking restaurant-goers, and a wide-eyed maître d', from the flying cutlery and ballistic furniture.

"Even if we're not dating any longer, I hope we can still be friiieeends...!" Harry cried out, just as his fingers slipped and he started soaring towards the vortex.

"Of course we can!" Padma screamed after him. "Call me when you get back!"

Harry vanished into the rift.

Within a heartbeat, the vortex had crumpled in on itself, and disappeared. Without the pull of the rift, the wind immediately died down, random bric-a-brac clattering to the floor.

Then, silence, almost deafening in contrast to the earlier chaos.

Padma looked around at the devastation and clutter that littered the restaurant. She caught sight of a waiter she'd saved, who was shakily getting to his feet. Waving at him until she got his attention, she mustered a strained smile. "Cheque, please?"

.PF5tFF. .PF5tFF. .PF5tFF.

This fic came together from several ideas, most of them for a Harry's-life-is-a-video-game story. I wanted to avoid the traditional beginning for such fics, where Harry dies and gets reborn at the start screen. One alternative option was to begin the story in a restaurant, and have Harry ask for a menu, which would trigger an in-game menu. Then I remembered that I already had an idea for an intro to a dimension-hopping story which took place in a restaurant, that I hadn't used yet, and here we are.

(Incidentally, Fast-Fawkes would also have worked as a title, but it sounds a little too rude for the tone of this story.)