AN: Hi there. I haven't written anything in a while, university with all its essays and reports was sucking the fun right out of it. While such works are wildly different from creative writing they - and university and life in general - managed to make it a chore to sit down in front of my computer and try to wrangle anything from my brain. Then a friend of mine came and told me about a challenge on a german site that she was participating in and things went from there. (She spread her enthusiasm. She managed to get me and two others who - to my knowledge - both haven't written fan ficton before to participate.)

I've officially put DB on hiatus for now, since I don't think I can manage two fics at the same time and I didn't manage to get anything productive done there anyway in a year. I hope I will have new inspiration for DB after this project.

This fanfiction is a response to a challenge on the german site animexx. "Sei du selbst" (= "Be Yourself") is a challenge where you write a Self-Insert fanfic. The "you" in the story is thrown into a fandom and the story goes from there. What made this challenge so interesting to me, is the fact that the fics are written as a collaboration of a writer and a god/goddess that gives the writer rules for each chapter.

In my case, the "me" inside the story was thrown into the Harry Potter Universe by my two godesses, one of them being Karu-DarkAngel. The rules I got for each chapter will be posted at the end of said chapter to avoid spoilers.

The first thing to catch my notice is the stench. I groan. The smell is just awful. Is it? It doesn't smell that different. Confused by my own conflicting thoughts I try to open my eyes. I blink. The light is too bright at first. I struggle to sit up and look around. Where am I? I don't recognize my surroundings. The small street is dark and dingy now that my eyes have adjusted to the light. I turn my head to see if I can find out more and wince. My head is pounding. Now that I notice my neck and back hurt as well, the cobble stone road is far from comfortable. Cobble stone? Well, whatever is left of the cobble stones in the small crater I'm lying in. Looking around again carefully, the houses lining the street near me strike me as odd. They are not like the old buildings in my hometown. They seem older somehow – and younger. I am unsure what to make of them. They are damaged though from what I cannot tell. The damage is far too tame to have been inflicted by modern bombs and they don't seem to fit what I've seen of the aftermath of earthquakes on television. But damaged they are. Some are cracked and seem to be half-collapsed.

I try to get up and freeze. Black hair. What? My hair is brownish blond. And yet, the hair falling in my face is black. I raise my hand and touch the hair. Ouch. Yep. It's definitely mine – pulling at it hurts. Wait. Are those my hands? They seem so small… I struggle to my feet and pat myself down. I seem to be mostly unhurt. Then I look up again. What? My whole perspective seems skewed. I didn't realize it while I was sitting, but now that I'm standing – Everything is… The proportions are wrong. It's like I'm still sitting down. I look to my feet. Yep. The floor, the cobble stone fragments beneath my feet seem far too close. Did I… shrink? I pat myself down again, this time paying more attention. The first time I only checked if anything hurt. What the heck? This is not my body. Which would explain the wrong hair colour but… how? What happened? I shake my head to clear my thoughts; something I regret instantly. My vision swims. I blink repeatedly trying to clear it. It doesn't matter what I seem to look like now. That can wait. I still have no idea where I am. I should get to safety, well, off the road at least. Then I can think about the rest but this place does not strike me as safe. The house right next to me is still crumbling.

I turn around only to see a big man (Is he really that big or am I just that small in comparison?) walking towards me. I back away and stumble. The ground is really uncomfortable to fall down on. He smiles sadly. "Hello child." Child? I am not a child! Oh… well, it would explain my height. Wait, what? That would mean… I shake my head and then ground my teeth to keep away the urge to hurl. My head's still pounding.

"Are you alright, Child? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"No, child. You are not. But you will be. Do not worry. What hurts?"

"My… head."

He just nods and takes my hand. "What is your name, child?"

Hesitatingly I answered. Should I lie? "N…Nora."

"Ah. Honoria."

"Honora." I nodded. Well, it is one of the two names my name could've originated from, so I guess it doesn't matter.

"It is nice to meet you, Honoria." I note that not only did he mispronounce my presumed name – but since it is a presumed name what does it matter – he also does not introduce himself.

"What happened?" Maybe he knows more and I can find out what was going on, but my hopes are dashed. He does not answer. Instead he asks me where I am from. He accepts my shrugging as an answer and nods to himself. "Shock." He mumbles to himself.

"Well." A smile is turned my way. "Do not worry. We'll figure it out." He tugs at my hand – in my confusion I missed the fact that he was still holding onto it – and starts down the street. "Come."

Should I trust him? I struggle with myself. I'm not in the habit of trusting some random stranger. Then again, he is the only friendly face I've seen here and probably my only chance of figuring out what the heck happened and where ended up. Even if I tried to run, without any knowledge of the lay of the land I don't think I'd stand much of a chance of getting away. I sigh and resolve to follow the man for now.

He leads me through the village? City?... It seems too small for a city, but given the stench, the layout of the narrow streets, the rudimentary quality of the houses… I'm either in the past – which is impossible – or in some LARP area, where the people are freaking perfectionists. And with perfectionists I mean right down to the last detail. It smells worse than the sewage plant we visited in primary school. They really take this stuff seriously.

The guy is talking to me soothingly though I ignore his words in favour of observing him. He is big – and I have always been bad at guessing someone's height – maybe 1 metre 75, 1 metre 80. He must lead an active life, given his muscles, and he has a lot of hair. His face is almost hidden by his red hair and his beard. It reminds me a bit of Gimli. Not that he's wearing dwarven armour or anything. He isn't wearing any kind of armour that I'd recognize now that I think about it. Just some weird clothes. Not a LARP theme that I'd recognize easily then. I sigh, and start to pay attention to what he's saying to me. He's still babbling nonsense, something about how I'd be fine, that I didn't have to worry, he'd take care of me. That I was lucky I was a witch – wait what? What's he talking about? A witch? Isn't he taking the LARP thing a bit too far? I certainly hope it's not a historically realistic LARP since I have no wish to burn – or pretend to burn – at a stake.

I try to ignore my errant thoughts (with medium success) and try to play along.

"A what?" I mean, don't get me wrong, being a witch would be awesome. I just don't trust the guy nor do I trust the situation. There are too few people around. I've never been to a real LARP, so I can't be sure, but from what I've seen of the renaissance festival a couple of towns over, I expected a lot more people running around and not just potentially hiding in houses and being out of sight, if they're even there.

The guy stops and lowers himself so that he's at my eye level. "You're a witch, Honoria. You can use magic."

I stare at him in disbelief (Is that guy for real? Isn't he taking this a bit too far?) which he seems to mistake as fear.

"Do not worry." He smiles soothingly. "Witchcraft and Magic are not evil. You are a witch, just like I am a wizard." Riiiiight. Okay. Let's just play along for now. I nod uneasily and he smiles.

"Ah. There we are." He stops in front of a small house I would've overlooked otherwise. The house has a sign I try to make out while he pulls me inside. Oli… Uli… Oliw… Ollivander?! A Harry Potter …

My thoughts freeze as soon as I see the interior of the shop. My jaw drops, I think, though I can't be sure. I stare. This is definitely NOT a LARP then.

Dimly, I hear the shopkeeper greet my guide with "Good afternoon, Mr. Gryffindor."

Gryffindor? As in GODRIC GRYFFINDOR? Oh. My. God. THE Godric Gryffindor?! The founder?! How? How did I end up here? And… Is that REALLY Godric Gryffindor? I can't help but stare at the man. Now that I look at him, I can see why the Gryffindor animal is a lion. He kind of resembles one with that mane of red.

I shake my head again – bad idea – and try to focus on what they're saying. Godric is telling what must be this time's Mr., no, now that I focus at the person instead of the clearly magical interior of the shop, Mrs. (or Miss… I wonder if she's born as or married to an) Ollivander that he found me in the middle of a street right here in Lundenburh by which he must mean the London of his, well, this time.

"Her name is Honoria." He pushed me in front of him. "Honoria, meet Miss Gaia Ollivander. She is the resident wand maker."

Gaia smiles toothlessly. "Shy, huh? No matter. We'll find a wand for you, don't worry." While she bustles off to find a wand for me to try presumably, Godric turns to me and asks me how much I remember from earlier. Since I have no idea what happened and how I ended up here so that his guess is as good as mine if not better, I only shake my head. Which, again, seems to suffice as an answer.

"Hm." He nods. "Do not worry, Child." Worry? Who has time for worry, I am halfway between elation and panic. I mean. I'm in Harry Potter, well not really. Wrong time. But apparently I am somewhere in the Potterverse. How cool is that?! And Godric brought me to buy a wand and told me that I'm a witch – which I can't believe quite yet – but if it's true… That would mean I can do magic. Magic. Real, genuine magic. That I can wield. Holy mother of… magic. That is like a childhood dream come true. I remember joking around with friends, that our letters got lost since Voldie's men destroyed the documentation – never mind the fact that none of us were born in the UK. To actually be here… if this is a prank, I'm going to murder someone. This is awesome. And -

Mrs. Ollivander hands me a wand made of some darkish wood that she snatches away again almost as soon as she handed it to me. Not that I mind, it felt… icky. I don't know how else to describe it. She hands me two others, both more comfortable than the first, only to take them away again as well all the while grumbling that they're not right. She walks away again looking for other wands and Godric turns to reassure me.

"Don't worry, sometime it takes some time to find the right wand." Yeah, I know. I read Harry Potter's trials to get a wand. Trying to distract me – at least that's my guess – he begins to tell me about the magic school he recently founded with some friends.

"It's not much of a school yet. The first year is about to start, you can join if you want. We will teach all kinds of magical children. My friends and I want to pass on the knowledge we gained on our travels. Are you interested?"

Is he kidding? Of course I am. The chance to visit Hogwarts… I nod frantically and groan again. Not a good idea to move my head that euphorically. I feel slightly sick and my head resumes pounding as if there is no tomorrow. I grit my teeth to ride it out. Godric promises me to take me to a healer after I find a wand. At least I think that's what he said, I wasn't really listening right there and then.

Mrs. Ollivander returns with a handful of wands for me to try out. The first of the new batch zaps me, and the second one does not react to me at all, but the third… the third… The third feels like coming home.

AN: Since this was the first chapter, I didn't really get specific rules. I was given preliminary information and told to write as far as I got in chap. one, which isn't that far actually^^. This is the stuff that made it, the rest you will see in the next chapter (rules).

- you awake in a crater, surrounded by houses many of which are damaged.
- you don't know how you got there but immediately realise you're not 'you'; you're a 13 year old girl, black haired. - a guy approaches you and asks if you're okay, you've got a headache but are mostly okay.
- he asks your name (your choice) and what happened, which you do't remember;
- he takes you along, tells you you're a witch and brings you to Ollivander's where he is greeted with Mr. Gryffindor - welcome to founders' time.