A lady from our world is thrust into the Harry Potter Universe by Dumbledore. She knows very little about the hidden magical society. Things go terribly wrong. A Mary-Sue Parody One-Shot.
Rated for suggestive themes.
This is my story, so as much as I would like Dumbledore to be dead (I'm a huge fan of those manipulative Dumbledore fics) He's still needed for the purpose of my fanfic. My regrets.
I don't own anything.
A young woman tucked her hair behind her ear. She slipped her furry blue slippers onto her thin feet and opened her door.
Exiting her house in the subhurbs she walked to her mailbox, idly humming a tune.
In her neighborhood all of the houses were identical, conformed to the societal norm.
The average three bedroom house, surrounded by average green hedges was completed by identical boring, average mailboxes. The woman waved at her neighbor, Dave, who was mowing his lawn.
He tipped his hat at her formally. She smiled and continued to her mailbox.
The silver box glimmered in the bright sun, as dazzling as the bright orb itself.
The lady opened it and withdrew her mail, examining it critically.
"Psh. Bills, Bills, Spam mail, three month belated birthday card and college spam." She mumbled to herself.
Her eyes immediately fell upon a letter written in spidery script. It even had an old traditional looking wax seal.
The woman murmured to herself, "You would think those universities would stop sending me all of this junk mail, after all I'm twenty-two and already have extensive student debts." She paused in her thoughts, scowling,
"But... this is the most interesting college ad I have received." She smirked as she glanced at the barn owl that flew down to roost upon her mailbox.
It even came with an owl.
Discarding all other mail, She ripped it open delicately, removing a letter and another, smaller, envelope.
Reading the letter, the lady frowned. It had to have been a prank of sorts. The return address was from Hogwarts. Wasn't Hogwarts the school that Harry Potter, the fictional book character attended? She was probably wrong. Maybe they named a real university after it?
She huffed, amused. The letter even explained that they sent her a "portkey" that would transport her to the magical school Hogwarts.
The small envelope that was unopened had a small word written in the corner. She peered closer trying to discern individual letters.
Portkey.
Without a second thought, she ripped the envelope open. Her vision went black as a mysterious wind rushed through her hair.
Her eyes fluttered open as she glanced down. Shapes and colors were spinning all around her creating a psychedelic effect. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was falling. The wind rushed through her hair, and made her eyes difficult to keep open. Terrified, she screamed unabashedly.
With a plop, she landed in a plush blue chair. The chair lurched forward and then rocked back, firmly re-planting itself on the wooden floor.
Afraid and confused, the woman glanced around at her surroundings. There were gadgets everywhere in cabinets which lined the room, whirling and sputtering, some objects omitting colored smoke. Some of the equipment appeared to defy gravitational laws.
Portraits hung on the walls… were they moving? They had to have been TV's or computer monitors, she decided.
She sat in front of a large ornate desk which was covered in papers and quills.
Hearing a noise, she glanced up.
An old man was standing on a balcony, cordially waving at her.
His clothes were hideous. Purple and yellow canaries appeared to fly around on his cloak decorated like the sky.
He hobbled down the stairs,
"It's always so nice to have visitors, and who might you be?" His eyes twinkled.
"My name is-" He interrupted her.
"Oh my! I know who you are! You're a Mary-Sue!" She blinked, confused. Then recognition gleamed in her eyes as she grinned.
"I get it! I'm having a hallucination, and you're Gandof!" His previously bright demeanor dimmed slightly.
"Why does everyone think that?" He mumbled to himself.
"No, I'm Albus Percevil Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of this school." Dumbledore announced this quite proudly, his chest slightly protruding and his head held high.
"But, you can call me Dumbledore. You could also call me Albus, if you want a detention. Just kidding! I'll expel you if you call me Albus." He smiled, as if waiting for her response.
She frowned.
"That's kind of harsh. I don't even go here."
He sat down in the large chair opposite hers, clearly disappointed about something. Then, he got another idea.
"That's a nice wizarding robe you have there. Where did you get it?" The woman blushed modestly.
"It's my bathrobe."
"Oh. Indeed." He paused, at a loss for words. Then, his twinkle returned.
"It's clear that you come from the future. " The woman opened her mouth as to object.
"Shhhh. Don't speak. I get it. You have to preserve the sanctity of the time line." His eyes sparkled.
"Are you here to cure Harry Potter from the most dangerous disease a wizard can possess?" She frowned.
"No, is it dementia? Or Alzheimer's?" He frowned.
"Why, it's ADHD. Of course."
"Sorry, I was just going on what was in front of me." Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I'm not insane. You're not like the others." There was a heavy silence.
"Wait… there is still hope. Your name… is it… perhaps… Matophia Darkblood Nerophy Raven Gryffindor?"
"No."
"Anything near it?" He asked, hopefully.
"Not even close." Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I'm going to have to send you to my Mary-Sue reform class. You're clearly not up to par with my standards. You're from the future and still don't know any of my obscure references. Shame on you!" He stood up from his chair, staring at her gravely.
"There a few things you need to be a Mary-Sue. You're obviously not following the standard in dress." She sniffed.
"I didn't know I would be meeting anyone today. It's not like I woke up this morning and said… Gee… I would really love to have a cup of tea with a barmy old man while in my bathrobe." He ignored her cutting comments.
With a flick of his wand her attire was changed.
A corset stretched across her chest, the black fabric rippling as her bathrobe changed into a gothic dress. The woman stumbled in her five inch high heeled boots.
With another wave, a faint smile on Dumbledore's face, her hair turned black and heavy makeup was plastered on her face.
After a brief examination he gave one final flick.
The woman shrieked as her bra size went up by two cups. She clawed at the corset, her now unnaturally voluptuous breasts heaving.
"There." He said, clearly satisfied with her appearance. She glared at him, much perturbed. She resolved to find her way out of his office/hallucination as soon as possible. For now, she just had to entertain the man.
"Oh! I forgot. You're much too old. Take this, it's a de-aging potion." She sniffed, clearly offended. He paused.
"You will also need to be heirs to several important, ancient family lines. I took the liberty of forging these official documents for you. You are heir to… the Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Black, Gaunt and Peverall lines. Congratulations!" She cynically glanced down at the papers.
"You will also need to be the master of death! Here is this necklace. If you wear it, you'll be invincible to all unforgivables." She glared at him.
"Here is your new birth certificate. Your mom died when you were three, and your dad beats you because he's a drinker. So… remember to act the part." The lady scowled and was about to comment but Dumbledore continued talking first.
"And the last piece… here is the key to Draco Malfoy's quarters." Her nose wrinkled in confusion.
"Why would I need a key to Malfoy's quarters?" Dumbledore winked suggestively.
Her face took a horrified expression of disgust.
"Well… I think I'm done here. Goodbye Dumbledore."
"Wait!" he said urgently.
"I have one more key, to Severus Snape's quarters, if you would find him to be more pleasing. Although, this is my personal copy so I would appreciate it if I could borrow it once in a while." He handed the key to her, a sorrowful, longing look upon his face.
She handed it back, her face contorted in revulsion.
"I'm good." She wiped her hands on her dress.
With much visible relief, he pocketed his key.
"No more keys. Please." She said pleadingly.
Confusion slowly overtook his face.
"So, you're not into that? Would you prefer watching? Minerva and I-"
"No! No more!" The woman covered her ears in horror. She didn't know who this Minerva figure was but she didn't want to see this old man naked or going at it. "It" was incomprehensible, inconceivable and horrifying.
At least the old man was getting exercise at his age. She just questioned his choice of strenuous activity.
Stop! She told herself.
Stop thinking!
Alas, she was only briefly successful and she was sure that this discussion would haunt her in her memory for years to come.
Interrupting her internal conversation, there was a knock upon the door.
Faster than what seemed possible for a man of his age, Dumbledore raced to converse with a painting.
Hmm. He's in good shape for someone his age. He must exercise a lot…. Exercise… a lot? STOP thinking!
"Phineas, who is it?" The old man in the portrait adjusted his spectacles.
"It's Professor Mcgonagall."
"Enter Minerva, my soft feline mistress!" The woman gagged and wretched. This was Minerva? She had wrinkles too! Between them, there were more wrinkles of skin than any couple ought to have before retirement.
With both Minerva and Dumbledore being in the same room, this dream, currently categorized as a disturbing hallucination had potential to be a haunting pornographic horror show that could mentally scar her for life.
The woman begged her subconscious to be merciful.
The lady closed her eyes and rocked back and forth. At least this way she wouldn't have to see what her vision turned into. Perhaps it might even help her wake up.
She could feel Mcgonagall glancing at her, perhaps with concern.
"Albus… what is this girl doing in your office? I thought exotic dancers weren't allowed into Hogwarts as per ancient degree 47 with the incident with Godric Gryffendor?"
The woman blushed furiously.
"Oh no dear." Dumbledore reassured Minerva.
"She's a Mary-Sue."
"Oh." The Professor glanced down, peering over her spectacles disapprovingly.
"Headmaster, what did you do to her? Did she arrive like this? In this attire?" He shrugged noncommittally.
"I may have made a few alterations, all for the better… and for the common good." His eyes twinkled.
Professor Mcgonagall rolled her eyes.
"Please tell me you at least told her that she's a witch." Dumbledore frowned, lost in thought.
"That may have slipped my mind…" Mcgonagall pursed her lips in annoyance.
"This is why you have delegated the responsibility of informing Muggleborns about the magical world to me ever since the fiasco of '64" Dumbledore rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Yes, I remember. Please stop bringing it up. The muggles don't remember anything. I told the American and Cambodian authorities about my regrets and they have promised not to hold it against me, even if their cities were covered in pudding." The old man pouted in remembrance.
"So… am I to understand that she doesn't have a wand?" Dumbledore didn't say anything. He just turned his face towards the ground in shame.
"Lucky for you I have an extra wand that I keep in my cloak that you can use." Minerva turned towards the woman.
"Magic is a beautiful thing, and can be eye widening. It is exhilarating. Here, give this a swish." The lady gingerly accepted the thin stick of dark wood. The magic flew through her veins, strengthening her core. Suddenly the room became brighter, the colors more intense. She frowned, trying to remember a spell from the Harry Potter Series. Ah. She remembered one. Just one.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The green light pulsed from her wand. Ordinarily the killing curse would only work if the caster had intense hatred, however due to the energy buzzing around in her veins due to her recent introduction to magic, it was made possible.
Dumbledore gasped dramatically as the light came towards him, his saggy beard and his wrinkly, crispy skin. Mcgonagall shrieked.
A column of fire appeared in front of the old wizard, protecting him. When the light hit it the fire faded, replaced with a magical bird that floated to the ground, dead.
"Fawkes! No!" Dumbledore bellowed.
"He's dead!"
The lady frowned, stroking her chin.
"So… that wasn't the tickling charm?" She frowned. Why would they put such a destructive spell in a children's book?
"You are a stupid scandalous swine!" Minerva screeched.
The lady, unperturbed, frowned.
"Is that a pheonix?"
Dumbledore wailed,
"Yes!"
Aren't phoenixes reborn by burning into ashes?
The lady concentrated, flicked her wand and then the carcass of the bird smoked, and then burst into flames. Dumbledore was holding it, but dropped the bird as soon as the fire touched it, yelping.
"Now I have nothing to bury!" He said sorrowfully, and then began to cry inconsolably.
The woman, rather smugly informed him that the phoenix would be reborn from the ashes.
The Professor growled.
"NOT IF IT WAS ALREADY DEAD!"
The man resumed his wailing.
"My familiar! NOOOOO!"
The Mary-Sue turned to Minerva, slightly apologetic but offended.
"Can I leave now?"
Professor Mcgonagall shooed her away, going to comfort Dumbledore like one would a child.
"Is there a spell that would let me forget all of this?" The woman asked, specifically wanting to get rid of her horrific exercise imaginative scenario.
The professor nodded and with the flick of her wand the fiasco of July 2013 came to a close.
The End
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