This is defiantly Mature so be pre-warned. With 660,000 HP stories out there I have probably stepped on someone's toes, for that I apologize. I am having fun and it's addicting, so on with my attempt at writing or scribbling in my case. You get it as I write it and it's as fast as I can put the words down on the screen.
If you look past my grammar etc, you may find a story, then maybe not. This will contain lot of character bashing, character death and not book compliant.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners i.e. J.K. Rawlings, etc. The original characters and plot are the property of the author i.e. J.K. Rawlings, etc. This work is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Not for sale or profit but at least I can give it away.
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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Do you know who I am? ^^^^^^^^^^^
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Chapter 1 – How strange can it get?
Hi, do you know where I am? I'm here, yes but where is here. Oh! Diagon Alley you say, and you know me? I'm Harry Potter?
That what Tom told me as I left a room I was in, I think? No, none of this is right!
I am going to write this all down for an insane reason because I can't be sane! So when they take me away it will all be down in writing and I will not have to explain how crazy I am.
OH! The beginning? Yes that would be the best place to start, unless you consider it to be the end? Yes I know I am not making sense but this which I see makes no sense, I see me, who is not me! The beginning, Oh! Alright!
I was born or course and to tell you the truth I really don't remember much until my first scene, yes tell it by scene. My first scene was I think at five years old and I walked into a room where my mother was as I had a serious question, what is my belly button. I got screamed at because she was in her bra and panties. I know that now but then I was just shocked to be yelled a so harshly. The next scene was around that time and while we were at some other house the lady cutting up the turkey said I couldn't have the drumstick. I wanted to know why and I heard I was a spoiled brat ruining everyone good time, another shock in my life. I might guess I was around seven when my father beat the living crap out of me because I was exploring the differences between me and the girl next door. All traumatic scenes but the best is yet to come.
From that time and through school it was boring. I got the crap beat out of me if the bullies caught me so I was good at running. The girls scared me to death but were still nice to watch. I was not happy with my life I was just there. The next scene in my life was I had an idea of helping people and joined the military to work in the hospital. I thought that I could get a job in the hospital and training. Working bed pans would be helping and I was eager, the recruiter said I would have no problems with my test results. They put me in the police and made me carry a gun. They trained me in hand to hand and shooting the different type weapons. Then they had this place that they wanted to send me called Vietnam.
Now I did not realize that I had been affected in my life. I was mentally stunted when it came to girls and sex. The next scene a cute little girl who wanted me and got me.
I hope she didn't have sex with me every night for some stupid reason such as loving me as the military sent me away. She will always be a bright spot in my life. I tried to take her with me but who would let crazy old me have what I wanted.
I got out of the military at twenty-one and looked for a regular job and found none. I applied everywhere and guess what? The government hired me as a federal officer packing a gun and hunting down the bad guys. I was shocked at what was walking around in all walks of life and here I thought I was weird.
I am no James Bond but the government trained me in more defense and offensive means to arrest and let's not kid ourselves, kill. I by now had a sex drive and constantly on the party scene but here again I was shocked at what some people called normal.
I got many assignments that sent me through out Europe. I had a live in girl friend in Germany and later in Holland and was very happy with my life. Then this insanity grabs me, its called my life, where weird is called normal.
I had to returned to the states and was assigned to an asshole supervisor who couldn't tell the time of day if a clock fell on him.
It felt like I had just collapsed in my bed after a long day… then this new scene of insanity started. I awoke in la, la land.
My first thought was I was having a nightmare but I soon realized I was not asleep. I think it was a sound that caused me to open my eyes. Possibly a popping noice. There stood an ancient old, very old man with a long white beard. I grabbed my work bag for my Berretta 9mm, the four boxes of shells got in my way of getting my weapon out. I had been to the quarterly qualifications and the extra ammo was for me to plunk and keep up my capabilities. I had all kinds of useful stuff like handcuffs and cleaning equipment for my gun. Unfortunately there was other stuff on top of all that. The ancient dork pulls out a wand and mumbled something and I went back to sleep.
/Scene Break/
When I awoke I surveyed the room and it looked like European as it was nothing to brag about and not at all plush, typical European. The first thing I notice was I was no longer twenty-two. I was more like eleven years old. I found that I was ten years old but that was later. Man my head hurt, like the worst headache ever but at least I had my work bag. I still could not believe what I was seeing in the mirror.
I left the room and headed down the stairs, it was a bar and the place had a number of customers that look like extras in a bad Star wars bar scene. The one of the extras didn't say anything and led me into the back alley and tapped out a code on the wall, it to turn into an archway. This was a strange dream and was getting stranger by the minute.
That's when everyone knew me and wanted to shake my hand or more. I ran. They chased after me like I was a rock star; they called out for Harry Potter to… That's when I really knew I was off the rails. The whole lot were dressed weird and their alley was full of weird things but in my attempt to escape I ran into more strangeness. Little odd shaped things or beings all dressed up in metal chest plates, spears and axes. They opened the great doors to the white building so I huffed and puffed up the stairs to safety I hoped.
I had no where else to run so I ran into the white building. Now I knew I was in trouble as all the little beings fell to the floor kneeling. The humans in the room just looked confused one said, "Looks like Harry Potter has some more fans."
"My Lord please follow me so we may serve you." Growled one of the little beings.
Could this get much weirder? That was what I was thinking but it did.
Everyone seemed to know me wherever I went. The problem was it was not me they knew but who these people thought I was, err, am? Then one of them said something like, "Lord your magic shall make us all free."
"DAH! What magic and what is everyone talking about?" I was loosing it. "Lord Aragorn you will ride the fire to vanquish the evil doers." Their all nuts let me try some sanity but before I could start I was dragged to a plush room. Plush in woods and carpets but the walls were covered with weapons, very barbaric weapons.
"Look little guy my name is Vince Jones, I was living in America… This old man with a beard shows up and I wake up here wherever here is. Who is this Harry Potter and who is this Lord Aragorn."
"I am Ragnok Lord Aragorn and…"
"Look last time! I am not anybody but Vince Jones of the USA. Although a very confused Vince Jones I must say."
This Ragnok looks at me funny so I give him, "Honest injun" and I held up my right hand as if swearing to this.
Ragnok pulls out a silver knife and some old looking paper and tells me to cut my hand and put some blood on the paper. I wonder if the men in the white coats could hurry up a little bit this is getting dangerous. Well with his glare and what the hell, best make him happy so he doesn't grab one of those swords off the wall and really start letting me bleed.
The cut heals just after the blood hit the paper and Ragnok grabs the paper. I would have been content to look at my hand and wonder how it healed but one look and Ragnok lets out a, "This is not possible". The growl was like a rusty gate growling.