I woke up that morning in a rather unusual way due to the fact that I was being shaken and a boy was saying something that sounded like, "Hurry! Hurry, wake up!" He spoke in an accent that I did not immediately recognize. When I opened my eyes, I almost swooned with dizziness because everything was a blur. After I groped around for a few seconds, the boy put a pair of glasses in my hands and as I put them on, he said, "Here's your glasses, Harry. Now get up, or we'll miss breakfast." At this point my vision cleared and I realized a few things. One was that he had a British accent and had been saying "Harry", not "hurry". The second was that he seemed to be under the impression that I was called Harry. As a third thing, while I still could not see perfectly with the offered glasses, I could tell that I definitely was not in my bedroom.
I was lying in a four-poster bed with red blankets. There were four other similar beds, empty, in the circular room and the walls were painted with red and gold. My blank gaze landed on the boy who had presumably woken me. He looked youthful, perhaps ten to twelve years of age, with bright red hair and freckles adorning his worried face. He wore long black robes, also decorated with red and gold.
"You alright there, mate?" he asked me.
"Um, I'm sorry, but…" I stopped and coughed. My voice sounded weird this morning. "Who are you… and do you know how I got here?"
The boy was shocked at my confusion.
"You mean, you don't remember? I'm Ron. We met yesterday on the train."
My thoughts suddenly jumped to the Harry Potter series. I mean, how could I not see the connection? Ron, Harry, British accents, train, my surroundings as well as what "Ron" was wearing… I put my hand to my face, suddenly dizzy again, and let out a small chuckle. I felt the glasses on my face and almost groaned as well.
"Would your last name happen to be Weasley?" I asked while lifting my head to look at him.
"Yes." He sounded relieved and not at all joking like I expected. "Okay, get ready so we can go down to breakfast." He turned and was headed for the door when I called out to him.
"Wait," I said, looking down at my arms. They were smaller and considerably less freckled then I was used to. "So you're saying I'm Harry Potter?" Ron turned around and had that concerned look again.
"…Yeah. Are you sure you're okay, Harry? You're talking weird. Maybe we should see a teacher." He had noticed my accent.
"Yes, I think we should." I hesitantly replied. "Just let me go to the bathroom and change my clothes."
"Sure, mate. I'll, er, just wait in the common room."
It wasn't until I got out of bed that I froze and realized something else. Being previously female, I probably would have a bit of trouble in the bathroom.
After stumbling to the bathroom to give myself a crash course in Male Urinating Techniques 101, getting used to walking in a different body, searching for clothes in what I assumed was Harry's trunk and making my way downstairs, I found Ron waiting for me. The common room held at least five other students who were all getting ready to leave for breakfast. Ron looked at me a bit nervously, which was understandable as his new friend was acting differently than the day before.
"Er, well, the teachers are probably all at breakfast and I don't know where the hospital wing is, so we might as well head down to the Great Hall."
We walked in relative silence with Ron leading the way, as best he knew, and me both pondering my predicament and observing everything in awe. By now I was immensely grateful that I could keep a cool head in a crisis, even one as strange as this.
When we reached the Great Hall, I naturally looked up to see the famous bewitched ceiling, but I didn't have any inclination to gasp in wonder as any other Original Character or Self-Insert. Granted, I had never before seen walls disappear into the sky, but it was less of a shock since I was ready for it.
We were not late for breakfast and, sure enough, the staff table was full. I was fascinated by the teachers, even more so than what I had seen so far of the castle, comparing how they looked now to how they were portrayed in the movies. Professor Dumbledore looked like a typical old guy with a long beard and the same was true of Professor McGonagall, though without the beard. The teacher who interested me the most was Professor Snape. I have always rather admired his complex character, but I couldn't say how we would interact if we ever met. His appearance reminded me of one of my classmates, Lisa, who is rather attractive in my mind. They both had long noses and unwashed black hair. I had to hold back a giggle when I saw his sour expression. Actually, considering the situation, I was rather proud of myself that I hadn't burst out in maniacal laughter while simultaneously crying my heart out.
My attention was diverted, however, as Ron led me down the aisle to Professor McGonagall. She paused in her conversation with Professor Dumbledore to look at the two of us and I could tell that we were starting to gain attention from the rest of the students. Thankfully, there was still enough noise so that we could not be overheard easily.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Professor McGonagall asked sternly.
"Er, well, I'm worried about Harry, Professor." Ron started slowly, but soon picked up the pace. "He isn't talking right and didn't recognize me when he woke up."
Professor McGonagall turned her head to me and asked, "Is there something wrong, Mr. Potter?"
I had considered my options on the way to the Great Hall and decided that I could never pull off a good enough Harry Potter impression, so it would be best to be truthful. "I think so, Professor. You see, I'm not Harry Potter." At this, McGonagall and Dumbledore both looked shocked and Ron stared at me like I was crazy.
"Mr. Potter, if this if your idea of a joke, I assure you…" McGonagall's cheeks were flushing.
"I'm not joking, Professor. I don't know how this happened, but this morning, I woke up like this."
Professor Dumbledore's voice allowed me to escape McGonagall's glare as he said, "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this elsewhere. Come with me, the three of you." As I followed the Headmaster, I heard McGonagall's voice. "Come along, Mr. Weasley. Don't dawdle."
Professor Dumbledore led us to what I believe was, or would be, the room where the Tri-Wizard champions went to after their names were called. Once the four of us were gathered and seated, he spoke again.
"Now, what is the meaning of this?"
I replied, trying not to meet his eyes straight on. As much as I wanted to appear trustworthy, I didn't want Dumbledore to take a stroll in my mind. Not only that, but I fully intended to keep my full knowledge of the world of fanfiction to myself. I felt that it would be counterproductive to announce to the wizarding world, Hey, your lives and everything you do are created just for the enjoyment of millions of people.
"I am not Harry Potter, Sir. I don't know how it happened, but when I went so sleep last night, I was myself. When I woke up, I was here, in this body."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "If you are not Mr. Potter, then who are you?"
I took a deep breath. "My name is Ellenor. I am, or was, a seventeen-year-old girl from California."
Dumbledore was surprised at my gender, but not so much by my place of origin.
"Well, that explains your accent," he mumbled to himself.
"You mean, you're a girl?!" Ron, however, was shocked. Professor McGonagall shushed him though she looked just as perplexed.
"I don't know how I got in Harry Potter's body or where he is. I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what to do." I tried my best to seem like a cooperative child who didn't know what was going on, which is pretty much how I was feeling. Dumbledore looked solemn as he got up and started pacing.
"This is quite a conundrum. And you are sure you can't think of anything that might have caused such an effect?"
"Yes, sir. Well… maybe…" The only way this would be possible would be if I was turned into a Mary-Sue or a Self-Insert. For this to happen, I would either be able to control the universe as I saw fit, or would be bent to the wills of some random fanfic author. I shuddered slightly at the thought, but the professors caught it.
"Yes?" I was continually glad that Dumbledore did not see me as any kind of threat, not that I was, and so was still acting like the kind, benevolent Headmaster everyone knew.
"Well, I am pretty sure that I am not from this universe. The only reason I can think of why I would be here is if the gods of both this world and my own decided to put me in Harry Potter's body, especially at such a crucial time like his first day at Hogwarts." Dumbledore looked at me over his half-moon glasses somewhat critically. I had to remind myself not to look directly into his eyes.
"If this is true, exactly how much do you know about this world?"
"I would be willing to take a truth potion if you don't believe me," I responded, avoiding the question. "As long as I agreed to the questions beforehand."
Dumbledore paused and then nodded his head. "That is acceptable. We shall go to my office and I will call up our resident Potions Master."
I think that I should mention now that contrary to what you might have been led to believe, I was not so calm and collected as if I lived fanfics often. I was indeed quite scared that I could either destroy the Harry Potter world with my mere presence or be kidnapped and tortured before eventually dying. On the other hand, I could end up turning into a Mary-Sue, completely destroying all of the characters' minds. I actually think the Mary-Sue option would be worse. Not only that, but I was terrified of meeting the objects of fantasy for my world. Harry Potter is famous world-wide and meeting the people that have been dissected, ridiculed and worshiped more than any real-life celebrity was not something I was prepared to do. Unfortunately, I was going to meet them, whether I was prepared or not.
