Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, he'd be paired with Luna. And I'd be rich enough to buy a small country. Which I'm not.
Okie-dokie! You know that thing where people stick someone from our world into a fandom? Yeah that's what I'm doing. Why? Because I was laughing at Mary Sues and terrible SIs when I got it into my pretty little head to try something. God help us all.
ON WITH THE SHOW!
It was a boring day. As in, poke-a-rock-for-shits-and-giggles boring. A really dull rock.
This was absolutely ridiculous! It was summer, mid July of all things and there was nothing to do. It was too hot to go outside. It was still too early to meet up with Mai and Kree. And, worst of all, she couldn't find a good fanfiction to read!
It was maddening! It was boring! It was… it was… ugh someone please just shoot her. She snagged an old favorite from her bookshelf before resigned herself to a dull hour before heading out for shopping and dinner with friends. Flipping through the familiar pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, she walked out the door.
And fell through a fucking puddle. Seriously.
She thrashed as she sank into the viscous black puddle, her book strangely clear through the panic. And then the flashes began.
Green light. Avada Kedavra.
Flying motorcycle.
"Vernon!"
Harry Hunting.
Spiders in the cupboard under the stairs.
"Shut up, boy!"
~Thanks, amigo~
BOOM!
"Harry - Yer a wizard."
And then she woke up. On a bench. In London.
She whimpered. "Why couldn't today stay boring?"
I know what you're expecting. Amazingly, she gains absurd magical prowess and joins Hogwarts. She turns into a great asset for the light side. She's the second coming of Merlin. She takes out Voldemort. She's Harry's older sister from another dimension. But, nope, that curly haired, seventeen year old is just a pathetic, ordinary girl who tumbled down the rabbit hole. Her clothes don't conceal a wand. Her mind has only the knowledge of a book series and a load of fanfiction to help her. How do I know? Well, that girl is me, Embry Abdul. And, God, am I screwed!
...
In that moment, the butterfly changed the beat of its wings. And a story was retold.