Chapter 1: Oh, fuck!

Waking up and being eleven years old again is a pretty amazing experience. But if you remember everything that happened, you also know that you have another adolescence before you. It is sometimes said to be the best age of all, and from a certain, hormone-chocked point of view that might even be true. Since I had counted the ripe number of thirty and something years when I had gone to bed, waking up in a body formed like a plank, and after a search for pubic hair which came up with the amazing number of zero, I was really pissed. And so the first words I spoken in this story were:

"Oh, fuck!" And I meant it. No, really, not only did I wake up in a place completely foreign to me, I was also not myself, not one bit. At least, not one bit that had not aged at least 15 years in the meantime. Fuck, indeed.

I stared at the wooden ceiling wondering where I was and why. Well, at least, I was still a girl. Thank heaven for little favours. I got up staring down a hopelessly old-fashioned floor-length sleeping gown made from linen. My bare feet connected with a rug and my eyes wandered around a small room. It looked like something from the Middle Ages. Oh God, don't let this be The Lord Of The Rings. Nazgul were a dream, but only if they stayed imaginary.

I went over to the mirror and found white porcelain basin and hot water in a jug before it. Not Lord of the Rings, with some luck. I stared at the face in the mirror which I had seen for the last time ages ago. And I had hoped never to see it again. I stuck the tongue out, because at that age, you are allowed to.

In front of the basin lay a letter. It was folded neatly, made of some yellowish paper and sealed with wax. Somebody was going through quite some trouble here. I hoped to pay back some of it in kind. I broke the seal to find a letter in a beautifully flowing script, telling me my worst nightmare had come true. Only in much nicer words:

Dear Mellanna,

We have been made aware of your deep disregard for the Harry Potter books. As a devoted Fanclub, this is something we wish to redeem. There are few fandoms better and more fun than this. And the best way to show you is to let you experience the whole of it yourself.

We have thus decided to insert you in the story. You may experience the characters first hand and realise your grave misjudgement of them. But since this would not be sufficient to capture your imagination, we have set you up with your own mysterious background that you must reveal on your own.

We are sure that you will enjoy this favour. Help has been sent to make you feel at home. Do not worry.

Yours

- Devoted Fans

"Oh, fuck!" Who did they think they were? And who did they think I was? And what kind of idiot would ever consider going through adolescence, no matter under what circumstances a second time would be fun?

I looked around and found an open suitcase. Clothes were poking out of it, and when I dared to look closer, they were the kind I knew; jeans, T-shirt, pullovers. Thank heaven. I put something on and wondered about the size. Darn, I had been slim. Or was that also a favour of "Yours Sincerely"?

Still grumbling I opened the door which led to a staircase leading into a - pub. And I was too young to get a drink. Well, fuck. I felt like I needed one, and strong. I became even more pissed when I calculated in my head how long I would have to wait for my next legal drink. The things you take for granted. Oh, bother.

The grey walls were covered with pictures and newspapers hung from it at some place. Fire from what night have been oil lamps lightened the room and a few patrons were scattered about. Behind the counter stood a man with a nose almost as knobby as that of Gerard Depardieu.

If memory served me right, he was the inn keeper. Though, truth be told his standing behind the bar alone would have led me to that conclusion. I didn't remember him from neither the books nor the films.

"Ah, Vianne, you are up," he greeted.

I looked around, but right then, I was the only female being approaching him. Vianne? What kind of a name was that? Not my kind for sure. I hoped there was a chance to talk with the editor and change the name before anybody saw me with it and died laughing. "Um hi," I replied.

"Have a seat, I'll get you breakfast." He pointed at one of the many tables.

Dutifully I sat down. There was not much I could do anyway. If those maniacs had inserted me at the very beginning, there was at least hope to get adult before Harry ever got to Hogwarts. Which was the somewhat alluring charm along the lines that there was an Alan Rickmann look-alike on the loose. Which would be any good to me in - oh about seven years. I hated this already.

Suddenly a very decent British breakfast appeared before me accompanied by a huge mug of black tea. I grinned from the plate up to the barkeeper and back to the plate again. Okay, this I could get used to. The smell was mouth-watering and I could see the calories with my eyes. Happily, I began to annihilate the eggs, sausages and fried tomatoes. The tea was leaving claw-marks down my throat and my suddenly very young body was not used to the caffeine in it. This had potential.

I wiped the plate clean with a piece of bread and considered my next steps. If my memory served me right, I would be needing silly clothing and magic stuff before I went to Hogwarts. And, since my back story was made up by a bunch of mad fangirls, there was probably an amount of mysteriously inherited money to be found at the bank.

And a shopping list would hopefully be in my suitcase. I was about to get up when somebody called my name. It took me some time to figure that out, because I still didn't connect 'Vianne' with anything that concerned me. If I ever got my hands on the person that had chosen this name for me...! Oh well, I turned to face my visitor. Right now, I had very different problems.

A young man stormed towards me. "What are you still doing here, Vianne. We have a very tight schedule, I don't have all day!"

"Um, hi," I got out. He reminded me of a very slick version of a young Keanu Reaves. I had never liked him and his clone's actions didn't improve on that.

"Just look at you," he went on. "Don't you have anything decent to wear?"

I looked down at the clothes. He was right, they were not even black. "Sorry. I'll just get my list and we can be off ...?"

He didn't get the question, just shooed me away. "Hurry, I have to be back at the ministry in three hours."

Whatever. I hurried up to my room again, found the list half buried in my suitcase, and took a second to make sure I didn't have anything bought already. No such luck. Instead I did find a purse that was conveniently filled with money already.

"Okay, ready to go," I shouted as I jumped down the last stairs with a huge leap. Being a child again did have advantages.

The young man glared at me, but I kept an innocent grin. If I was still able to do anything innocently. This body might be as innocent as fresh snow, but my head did remember a lot of things. "What's your name anyway?" I asked.

"Simon."

Well, that explained everything. "I am Vianne-"

"Snyder, yes I know," he interrupted me. "I am aware that all this is very new for you, but we don't have time. You can spend the rest of the day with small talk. Follow me."

He really didn't improve my view on Kenau Reaves any. I followed him into the yard that was empty except for a few trash cans. I looked at the wall expectantly. If I remembered correctly, it was about to open up in a most picturesque way. Obligingly, Simon tapped his wand against the correct brick three times. The opening up did look the way I remembered from the movie, and Diagon Alley was full of people running in all directions. I almost fell over a stack of kettles, trying to keep up with Simon.

"Clothes first," he ordered. "You can then collect them finished after we have everything else. The list?"

I put it into his outstretched hand as he shoved me into a shop that smelled of mothballs.

"Hello, my dear," a squat woman greeted me, smiling. "Hogwarts?"

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded. You didn't fool around with people who ended up wielding point bits in your very vicinity.

"I have everything right here," she gestured into a back room that looked even more stuffy than the front. I had to get upon a small pedestal and a set of robes flew over my head. At least, it was black.

"Three sets," I informed the witch. "And if I could get a leaf-shaped fastening for the winter cloak?"

"Of course, my dear," she replied absent-minded. "Raise your arms."

I did so and the needles began their work all on their own. Very convenient. If I could sew like that, I might get my own costumes done after all. And there were kettles not far away that would make good Mando armour plates. By the time I had wondered what kind of spell you might need to turn kettles into armour, the stitching stopped.

"There you go, little Miss," the witch handed me a strip of paper. "You can collect the finished lot later."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I replied dutifully. Then I turned to Simon. "What next?"

"Your books," he returned my list. "I will get the other things in the meantime; I really don't have time for this."

"As you wish, Simon," I grinned up at him. Nothing new there, I had never grown very tall. "We can meet at the pet shop then, I want an animal." Were children allowed to bat their eyes at annoying adults? Did I care? Nope.

Simon huffed and was gone. Seemed the effect of eye batting from a child was very different from what I was used to as an adult. But, I was about to go shopping for books. There's nothing like buying books. I love books. Okay, those were all study books on my list, but maybe I could find something else to read. Though - what year did we have? And how far from the publishing of 'Choices' in 2011 did that put me? Oh, fuck. The books I would have to wait for. I could only hope there were some decent wizard-authors around.

The book store was amazing. Not only were there rows of books in shelves, but they were also stacked everywhere, holing up at impossible angles. I followed the stacks with my eyes, wondering what would happen if I pulled out one of the volumes. Maybe nothing, because if there was no spell on the construction, I was a toad.

There was another nice surprise in the book shop and that consisted of the top two sneers of the wizarding world. I grinned already as I stepped a bit too closely beside Draco, grabbing a volume of 'Magical Drafts and Potions' out of the shelf before him. "Hello there."

He turned and showed that great sneer of his. He really should have been too young for that, but when his father came up behind him, I could see where he got it from. And I was only 11 years old, and Lucius Malfoy was - well a lot older, not to mention married with kids. Oh, fuck.

"Hello, Sir." I indicated a bow. "Pleased to meet you." Hell, I was, even if I was stuck in the body of a frigging eleven year old.

"And you would be?" Condescension was a fine thing if it came from Lucius Malfoy, he did it so well. His tone also indicated that his cat (provided he had one) had dragged in more desirable things than me. (Note to self: even at eleven years old, never put 'Lucius Malfoy' and 'desirable' in one sentence.)

"Vianne Snyder, Sir," I replied and wondered for a fleeting moment what would happen if I told him my real name. "I am a new student at Hogwarts." I shoved the captured book into his face. "See, I am getting my books!"

Yes, I was grinning like a mad woman at that moment. Though, mad child was probably more like it. But what did I have to loose? If I was to be in Harry's year, even my Alan Rickmann look-alike was ages too old for any kind of relationship. Though, from this point of view, the whole sex-with-minors angle suddenly made sense. Kinda.

"I see." He pushed the book away with the top of his cane.

I refrained from jumping at him and covering him with slobber, or just jumping up and down with the excitement of annoying him. Instead, I focussed on my list again. "Do you know where I can find- The Dark Force?" No, that was wrong; I don't think the Katana fleet had anything to do with this. "Oh, 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection?" I beamed at him brightly. And I so had him annoyed. What a sight, almost worth dying for.

He didn't bother to answer and just pointed his cane towards his left.

"Thank you, Sir." I indicated another bow and ran off. Then I caught myself and looked back. "See you in school, Draco." I didn't give in to the temptation to wave that was a bit over the top. Too bad. But the look on his face was priceless nevertheless. Maybe, if I could keep on annoying those two, the time here would not be so bad.

I hurried to get the rest of my books and lugged my parcel past them, still grinning like a maniac. They made a big deal out of Ignoring Me, which was not quite the same as simply ignoring me. This promised to be all kinds of fun.

The next stop was the pet shop. Personally, I wondered if it was such a good idea to keep rats, cats and owls in one place, but I was not an expert. A middle aged witch was busy feeding the animals when I entered. She looked up and smiled.

I nodded and went to look at the cages. I am not sure I knew all the animals in them, in some case I was pretty sure I didn't want to either. The amount of ear, noses and teeth an animal should have on average was a very set one in my mind.

"Can I help you?" the witch asked.

"I want a rat, a black one," I replied. "And preferably one that grows huge and vicious."

The woman seemed taken by surprise. "We do not sell vicious animals, they are supposed to-"

"Oh, well," I interrupted her. "In that case, I'll just take a black rat."

Visibly relieved, the clerk led me to a cage with young rats. "Which one would you like?"

I pointed to a black animal that was about to bite one of it's siblings into the tail.

The witch grabbed the rat and put it into a small cage. "What will you call her?" she asked amiably while she wrapped up and went back to the till.

"Bumblebee," I said.

"Oh?" she seemed surprised. "And why?"

"Because it can't transform into a VW Beetle." To my satisfaction this answer seemed to irritate her. I gave her the money and turned to leave. Just end up facing an annoyed Simon. I wondered if there he knew any other mood. Judging from his glare, not.

"You cannot have a rat," Simon told me.

"Why not?"

"You are a first year, you may bring," he shoved the list under my nose, "a cat, a toad or an owl."

I grabbed the list from his hand and studied it. Damned right, there it was. No rat. How did Ron get to bring one then? And when did he start? "Okay, I'll take an owl then. Black -"

"But you already bought a rat," the saleswoman spoke up.

"Oh, right, that." Well, couldn't be helped now, you it? I looked hopefully at Simon.

"You'll find a way to dispose of it," he ordered. "And hurry up with that owl, you will need a wand, too."

I turned back to witch. "One big black owl, please. With cage and all."

She gave me a stern look but went over to the owls.

"Giant eagle owls are out of question, I guess?" I asked Simon.

Simon's answer was a huff. I took it to mean yes. Too bad, though I didn't even know if those came in black as well. But if not there was surely a spell for that. I paid for the owl, which didn't even bother to blink, and the witch didn't bother to ask me what I'd name it this time. Her bad luck, because I didn't have a clue. Maybe I'd juts call it Uhu.

"Off to Ollivanders," Simon shooed me out. "I hope you have an idea what kind of wand would fit you?"

"A black one," I sulked. Though, I would probably feel better if I found a way to accidentally poke Simon in the eye with whatever I got handed. I replayed possible scenes before my inner eye, when Simon stopped me in my tracks.

"You don not plan to take all this," he indicated my acquisitions so far, "into Ollivanders!"

I looked down and shrugged. "I can't leave it standing around, can I?"

"Impossible!" Simon pointed his wand at me. "You act as if there was no magic."

What could I say? As far as my reality was concerned there was no magic. But how did you tell that to the figment of somebody's imagination? "I am just not used to magic," I said simply. "It didn't exist in my world."

"More's the pity. Whatever those muggles thought when they kidnapped you. Drop that." He pointed at my parcels.

Obediently I put everything down. "What do you mean, kidnapped?" That was the worst way to start a mysterious background. I'd end up being Harry Potter's lost sister. Or whatever it was that fangirls dreamt of. I wished I had asked my best friend about it one day, she had a good grasp of the fandom. And I might have known what was ahead of me.

"Oh, you don't think any parents would give their child, a witch, to muggles for raising?" He pointed and murmured and my parcels flew up and away. "Nobody, of course. So the only way those people could have gotten their hands on you, it was illegal. Though muggles do have a word for it, I think." He considered for a moment. "Adoption that was it."

I stared after my parcels and hoped they'd find the way back to the Leaky Cauldron. I was not sure I would. "Adoption?" I said surprised. "But that is –"

"I know, I know, atrocity made legal. In you go." He almost threw me through the door.

The front of the shop was very orderly; shelves lined the walls, stacked from bottom to top with small boxes. Beside a stair leading up to even more wands a small counter stood and behind that counter - the evil twin of a very old Bilbo Baggins. His eyes were of such a light blue, they seemed no be white except for the pupils and there was a degree of madness in his eyes that was unsettling. Not to mention his bangs which went down all the way to the floor.

He wore a dark red-brown coat that looked as dusty as the rest of the shop. I felt like sneezing. Then he looked me over carefully, then went and took one of the gazillion boxes before I could say a word. Probably reading mind, or just assuming that anybody coming into his shop wanted a wand.

"Ebony and heartstring of a dragon," he explained as he lifted a beautiful black wand out.

I took and waved it about. Nothing happened. What a disappointment, it would have fit my normal wardrobe so well. If you ignored that there was no way to get at my usual clothes, that is.

"Well, well, now," he muttered. "What a surprise. Try this one. Beech with phoenix feather."

He handed me a much stubbier though lighter wand. This time I was relieved when nothing happened as I waved it around. It was enough that I would end up short, white and stubby, no need to emphasise the fact with an according wand.

It went on like that for quite a while; long and short wands, light and dark ones, all kinds of woods and magical creatures in different combinations. Mr. Ollivanders seemed almost distressed as nothing worked. Maybe my fangirly commission had forgotten to give me magic powers. Now that would be a hoot.

"Here," he brought me another one, not even telling what it was made off. He had stopped quite a while ago. In his stead, Simon had started squirming. I wondered what kind of appointment he had that was so important; probably a witchy woman.

I waved the staff and to our surprise it worked. A burst of sparkling stars came from it's tip, showering the shop in red and yellow light. It was really pretty. I hadn't felt anything especially magical, though. Maybe working magic didn't feel at all? That would be a disappointment.

"Ash and unicorn," he said, sounding surprised.

I shrugged, not being fond of either. Except if there were frigging huge black unicorns around in this universe. At least it was not pink. I paid and we left the shop. Simon dragged me through the street with no time to look left or right. Strange instruments, animals and people flashed by, unknown scents and sounds. It would all have to wait.

Simon didn't even wait for the doorway to build itself completely before pushing me through. "The train leaves tomorrow at eleven from platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. Don't be late." The wall already closed again.

Now that was a hasty goodbye. I walked back into the pub which was full of people by now. Negotiating my way through the witches and wizards I wondered if there were more places like this around. Did wizards have discos? And if they did, what kind of music did they listen to? Most likely not mind kind, which was also due to the fact that most bands I really loved were far from founded. Project Pitchfork was probably around already; if only their early stuff hadn't been so horrible.

I opened the door to my room and found all my purchases plus the things Simon had gotten neatly stacked before my bed. I began to sort through them and realised that I would need quite some skill to get it all into my suitcase. As it turned out, I would have to leave everything muggle behind. A sad outlook, though nothing of it was really mine. I looked at the stack of clothes; no it surely was not.

It would be blouses, ties and robes for the coming years now anyway. I wondered if witches ever wore short skirts and high heels at all. Finally I had everything inside the trunk, it even closed. Sitting down on my bed I wondered what to do next. There was half a day waiting ahead and I had no idea what to do. If I had thought of it, I might have started reading those books. But now they lay at the very bottom of a complicatedly packed suitcase.

Standing up, I began to pace the room, not quite wiling to go downstairs. The place was crammed with people I didn't now, a situation I hadn't like when being over thirty either. I stopped before the mirror and stared at my incredibly young self.

"If I thought you'd remember," I pointed at my reflection, "I'd tell you some important things now." I tilted my head slightly, thinking of all the good advice I would have needed. But chances were that I was back at over thirty when this ended.

My young self looked back at me wistfully, probably having the same thoughts. There was no going back; there was only now. All you could do was making the best of it. Nobody would expect a girl of my assumed age to be happy in a crowd of strangers. Time to go down then, and acquire some long overdue social skills.

There was one more thing I had to do though; I intended to free Bumblebee. It was sad, I could not keep him; he was cuddly, cute and tried to gnaw through my wand. He even let me scratch him between the ears and only bit me when I tried to tickle his belly. I didn't like the idea of returning him into the shop and the backyard had looked like a nice place for a rat to live in.

The pub was still full of people, some of them smoking huge pipes. After the lawful smoking ban came into effect in Germany I had not seen so much smoke inside a building. I coughed, passing an old wizard, who comfortably rested his feet on a chair, reading a paper from behind which small puffs of smoke rose. A mix of languages reached my ears as I walked through the room. I was grateful for the cool and clean air in the yard.

Putting the cage down, I opened the door and picked Bee up a last time. "You take good care, hear me?" His nose twitched excitedly. "Don't get eaten by owl, not even Uhu and if you're still around next year, I'll come and collect you, okay?" He bit me in the nose, which I took for agreement.

I set him down and watched as he scuttled away. Just before vanishing behind the trash cans he turned around though, sniffing the air. So much for the first rat I owned. I placed the empty cage in a way that said 'take me along, I'm for free' and returned inside. The smoke still hung thick in the pub. Candles and oil lamps did nothing to improve on the quality of the air either. Neither did the crowds of people. I had nothing against people in general, okay, now I had a wand, but as long as I could not use it that didn't count. People were fine, as long as they were where I was not. Right now, this was not the case.

I fought my way to the counter. I could even look over it, barely. Almost resting my nose on the wooden surface (you really wouldn't want to do that, it was sticky) I tried to catch the attention of the barkeeper. For obvious reasons that was difficult.

"Do you need help, dear?" An elderly witch looked down at me.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I want to order tea."

She glanced around as if looking for something. "Are you not a bit young to be here on your own?" She finally asked.

"I am going to Hogwarts tomorrow," I replied as if that explained everything.

"Oh, your parents must be proud of you," she smiled and tapped her wand on the counter. The barkeeper appeared almost immediately. Pointing at me, she ordered tea plus biscuits I never mentioned but didn't mind.

I tried not to think of what my parents would say if they would see me here now. Probably not much, I had always been the odd and geeky one. Of course, being eleven again might upset them a bit. How would anybody explain that to the authorities? They wouldn't believe it, even when they saw it. And considering that I already had my A-levels and an MA in English it would be difficult to get me back into the public school system. Hogwarts might be a welcome alternative, really.

"Here, dear," the witch handed me a cup. "You are so silent."

"Oh," I tried to blush with moderate success. "I don't know who my real parents are. I was adopted." Sucking my lower lip under my teeth I looked into the cup, hoping to project sad embarrassment.

"Poor dear! What about your adopted parents?" She wanted to know. "Are they not proud?"

I had no answer for that. I didn't even know how my family was set up supposed to look like or if they even liked me. There should have been a letter detailing all those things, I decided. Right now, there was only one option: lie. "They don't know," I whispered. "They think I am going to a school for gifted children."

There was no reply from the witch who instead helped herself to a biscuit. That gave me a moment to come up with reasonable reasons for the bullshit I had just made up. Flyby back stories where a speciality of mine, but so far I never had to remember them; I wrote them down.

That reminded me that I might be in need of a new hobby. Fanfic writing was fun, but in a fandom that didn't care much for computers and the internet, there was no chance to access my usual haunts – if they existed already; which they didn't. A though struck me: this was the early nineties. On the on hand it meant that only HotE had been published so far, but on the other hand it gave me some years to prevent that train wreck that was the PT.

I stared at the cup, my mouth open. Could I change the way of things? If only here? It might be an experiment worth trying; messing up the plans for the PT, forcing Lucas to take a different approach and story. My head swam with the possibilities. The Prequels. I could wipe them out. All of them. Or just change them and have pretty Tem-clones fight pretty – uh Depp-clones for example. Owen would be Ben's brother again, and if anybody got the idea of NJO, a hit of the wand should see to the right amount of amnesia.

"Are you alright?"

I didn't realise somebody was speaking to me at first; I was too deep in thought. Only after shaking off the idea to turn the whole SW fandom into my personal playground, I noticed, that the witch looked rather concerned. "Here, have a biscuit. I didn't want to disturb you about your family."

"Oh, it's okay," I said, taking the biscuit. "They are not bad people, just – difficult. If they knew I could use magic, they'd want me to do a lot of things I don't think I am allowed to do. Conjuring up riches, resurrecting my brother, magical detox, a house, a couple of cars, a yacht…" I trailed off. Then I looked up at her. "Would I be allowed to do a detox on them if I learnt how to?"

The witch suddenly ruffled my hair affectionately. It was the first time ever that happened to me; it's the kind of thing that only happens in books. "I am sure the Ministry will find a way to achieve it, dear –?"

"Vianne," I supplied dutifully.

"Vianne," she replied. "And if they don't you can come to me and aunt Marietta will pull some strings."

Aunt Marietta? Compulsive adoption among wizards? I eyed her carefully, but didn't see any Mando armour peeking through her robes. If I was so pitiful to get spontaneously adopted by elderly witches, I must be looking really bad. There was no mirror around to check, though. "Thank you, Marietta," I said. "That is very nice of you."

"Nothing to – oh!" She jumped up with a sudden. "Here I am chatting away the time, when I need to hurry." She pushed away from the counter. Just before she was swallowed by the crowds she thrust a card at me. "You can always send me an owl there."

I stared at the place where she had vanished, then at the card in my hand. 'Marietta Mayfair, Divinations and Funerals' it said. I wondered if that was impending crossover or if somebody had just outsourced an inconvenient witch into this fandom. Taking my remaining biscuits and tea, I went to the newspapers. Grabbing one, I decided to get informed about this place. Where was a wiki when you really needed it?

The newspaper was like a book of fairy tales. Best were the moving photographs, I loved them. The people waved at me, smiled or scoffed, depending on whether the article about them was nice or negative. There were dragon warnings, beast sightings, the Quidditch results and with them pictures of teams playing. On another page was a discussion about new-found spells, a product recall for a potion gone wrong and a crossword with moving squares.

"Are you not a bit young to read the paper?" a deep voice asked. Was that the new pick-up line for minors?

"No," I replied looking up form the discussion of the advantages and drawbacks of the most popular dusting spells. "If I was barely six, then I would be too young to read the paper."

A middle aged wizard looked at me disapprovingly over the rims of his glasses. "Do your parents know you are here?"

Slowly, I folded the paper. "No. And I don't think they'd believe you, if you told them either." I got up. "And by the way, there are friendlier ways to ask for a paper." I dropped it before him as I left. Maybe socialising with adults when not being one any more was not such a good idea after all. I detected a deplorable lack of seriousness towards me.

I sat in my room missing the internet dearly. Admittedly, it was in a sad state at the moment and nothing like what I remembered, but I was so used to it. Post some, mail some, chat some; if somebody had been gracious enough to hook me up with the net now, I would have gone off to read all HP fanfic I could find; the good, the bad, the downright stupid. It would have given me an idea was I was in for.

At least I had not found any mysterious trinkets in my trunk. For example a locket that was, by pure accident a horcrux or a diary that ate my words. I considered taking the diary from Ginny just to see what happened. Then I considered disrupting the story in any conceivable way and see what happens. With some luck I got extracted before the whole HPverse blew up. But I couldn't even remember how many horcruxes there were and what they were.

Getting out a quill and parchment, I sat down to make a list of things that could, I hoped, get me thrown out of the fandom.

1) Expose Quirrel as host of Voldy
2) Take the diary and keep it. Maybe I could torture Voldy with bad PWP or something until he self-destructed. It was worth a try.
3) Reveal that the cup thingy was a portkey leading to Voldy.
4) Let the troll clobber Harry
5) Steal Hermione's time-travel thingy. Maybe I could travel back in time and clobber those who sent me here, too.
6) Prevent the PT from coming real in the way I knew it. That had nothing to do with HP, but it was something I wanted to try anyway.
7) Okay, I was already out of ideas.

I really had no clue what those books were about in detail; I didn't even get the teachers for Defence Against Dark Arts straight. But thinking about them gave me another item for the list.

8) Expose Moody as – uh, whatever wizard was impersonating him.
9) Tell Dumbledore about the fake locket.

I crumbled the list and threw it away. It was no good. Nothing of that would really work. I'd have to do some flyby improvisation. Oh, fuck. I was so stuck here.