Lost in Harry Potter
by 80sarcades

WARNING: Not to be read by people that do not appreciate sarcasm, or meddling with canon. Besides, its fun to do both of those at the same time! This is actually an old story from several years ago that I did for practice and never posted; somehow it grew to 16+ pages of silliness. Slight crossover with the TV show Lost, but not strictly a HP/Lost crossover.

Keep in mind that the measures I used to end the Second War were a bit brutal; however, so is war. The scene with Ginny is Harry/Ginny from her viewpoint; personally, I don't fancy teenagers at all.

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

Chapter One: The Train, Plus a Malfoy

For once, I'm at a loss for words. Just where the hell am I?

The steel deck vibrated beneath my feet as I stared into a shiny mirror. A small window let me look outside; the countryside sped by underneath the morning sunshine. Instead of my usual shirt and pants I wore a fancy bathrobe with a patch on it.

All of that I didn't really care about at the moment. Just the reflection of the kid in the mirror was giving me the shakes, because I recognized him instantly. Who wouldn't?

It was none other than Harry Potter. Plus the lightning bolt.

I touched the scar on my/his head and saw the kid's hand do the same thing. Instead of the my usual smooth skin, I felt a raised line beneath my fingers. I quickly felt around and felt only a scrawny body instead of my usual bulk. Even my hands felt different; without thinking, I pulled a polished stick out of a pocket. I watched the kid mirror my movements as I waved the wand around.

Panic gave way to curiosity as I tried a simple spell for fun. After all, this has to be a dream, right? I pointed the wand at the bar of soap on the sink and said "Wingardium Leviosa."

Nothing happened. I began to think it was all some sort of horrible joke and laughed, saying the phrase again. This time, I casually flicked the tip of the wooden shaft.

The laughter died in my throat as I saw the soap rise in the air. I reached out and put my hand around it; no wires. I was about to try again when I saw a nearby newspaper on the floor. Nothing unusual about that, except that the picture on the front page was moving.

You know, Quantum Leap was my favorite show when I was growing up. Sam Beckett would 'leap' into someone's life and say, "Oh, Boy." Of course, in real life, you say something else:

In my case, it was a bit more direct: Oh, shit!

The train was still clattering along as I left the bathroom. Loo. Whatever. To my right, I could see compartment doors stretching down the length of the car. More sunlight flowed through the windows opposite them; it does nothing for my massive headache. Where's an Advil when you need one?

For a long moment I stood there, confused. Where the hell do I go from here?

You know, I wish I could remember how I got here. Or being smashed enough to get here. But I don't even have a hangover. Well, damn!

For the hell of it, I was about to go to my right when the door on my left opened. A tall, thin, blonde hair boy entered followed by two stocky boys. Blondie stopped when he saw me/Harry; a sneer crossed his lips. Even his voice had a nasty tone to it when he spoke.

"Well, Potter, still running around telling fairytales? Or are you just finally going mental?"

You know, I might be in someone else's body and in someone else's country. But I'll be damned if I lose my sarcasm. Blondie gave me a hard look when I said nothing.

"What about it, Potter? Got nothing to say?" He laughed. A second later, the other boys laughed. Jeez, Draco Malfoy really is a dick. Let's see if I can cut it down to size. Him, I mean. For the other, I'd need tweezers.

"Well," I finally drawled, "actually, I do. I just don't have anything to say to you. May I offer some advice?" I said, changing the subject.

For the first time, the boy seemed surprised. "And what would that be?" he demanded, curious. I fixed him with a hard stare before I replied.

"When you go through life, don't act like a jackass. Overcompensating for lack of equipment will get you nowhere."

For a second, Draco looked confused. Then his wand was in his hand, pointed directly at my head. On the good side, however, anger does really color his pale cheeks.

"Take that back, Potter," he threatened, "unless you want to end up like your parents." I yawned casually; it just seemed to infuriate him further.

"You know, then you'll have something in common with them," I calmly said.

"What?" There was a strange glint in Draco's eye. Reminds me of a cat waiting to pounce.

"Floor."

I could see the unasked question in his eyes even as my left hook slammed into his jaw, causing him to fall back into his overweight friends before slumping to the floor, unconscious. Looking up, I grinned evilly at his two companions and raised my hand in a 'come on' gesture.

"Who's next?" I said, smiling.

They ran. Just goes to show, take out the leader and the rest will run. Draco stirred at my feet, trying to get up. I knocked him in the head again and he fell back into unconsciousness. Punk. I toy with the idea of throwing him off the train, but reject it. Damn littering laws.

This, of course, brings be back to my original problem. Clearly, this is not a dream; my hand hurts too much for that. Lacking alternatives to simple logic, I have to quickly conclude that this is reality. I really am Harry Potter, somehow. The bigger question is: how do I get back to my old life?

More importantly, do I really want to? I've put up with enough customers in retail hell this week, and I really need to get away from it all. Or at least drunk. Which probably explains why I'm here, although I really don't want to think about that too much: my head still hurts.

Well, if I am in hell, let's see if we can have some fun. I've always thought some improvements could be made to the Harry Potter series. Just a bit of tweaking, you know. So why do I feel like doing my evil laughter bit? From what Draco said, I'm guessing I'm in the summer after Book Four, Goblet of Fire. So lets start from there, shall we?

I turned around and walked down the corridor. Along the way, I started humming an old tune.

To dream, the impossible dream….

Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

It didn't take long before I found what I was looking for. Honestly, how many compartments on this train have people with red hair sitting across from bushy hair? They were talking about something when I came in. Although we said the usual pleasantries, they kept on yakking away while I sat there quietly. Truth be told, I needed the quiet.

Now that being Harry Potter had sunk in, I realized that I would have to *act* like Harry Potter. You know, be daring but cautious. With courage, but with reservation. To have a nobility complex, yet not think.

Screw that.

If I'm really Harry, I might as well go for the shock value. Be the 'Bad Boy Wizard.' At least I'd be front page material for Witch Weekly for the next century or so.

The door slid open. Half expecting to see Draco again, I looked up into Ginny Weasley's eyes as she entered the compartment. She just looked, well, beautiful with her red hair. Hell, forget beautiful. Think radiant; the movies certainly did her no justice. Guess the Boy-Who-Lived is really the idiot of the century if he lets that rosy beauty get away.

So lets have fun with it.

"Ginny?" I asked.

She looked at me. The conversation behind me stopped when I got down on one knee. Might as well go for the full Monty on this one.

"Will you marry me?"

Her jaw dropped. Really, she's quite cute the way her mouth opens and closes. I stand up and pull her close, inhaling some kind of pleasant perfume. Eau de Witch, maybe? Then again, who cares; it smells pretty good. I ignore the sounds of her brother preparing to lynch me and press on.

"Of course, I don't mean right now, my love, but later. I just want you to consider it. The offer's open, whenever you want to take me up on it."

I lean in closer. Wonder what everyone is thinking right now? I know Ron's not thinking, or he would have told me to get off his sister. It's easy to tell what Ginny is thinking when I look into her eyes: Christmas has come early. Way early. Now for the dramatic finish.

"I love you, Ginny Weasley." I said simply. With that, I leaned in close and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, only to find it forcefully -- and passionately -- returned. She eventually broke off before looking into my/Harry's eyes. "I love you too, Harry," she said quietly, a smile on her lips. "Took you long enough, you prat."

Harry, wherever he is, better appreciate this. The things I do for people…

Ginny's eyes, meanwhile, glanced over my shoulder as she slowly returned to reality. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, pull your eyes back in your head and straighten up," she said in a firm tone, mimicking her mom. Even without looking, I can hear Ron doing as she ordered. I idly wonder if Herminone's open jaw is still catching flies.

"See you, Harry," Ginny giggled before leaving the compartment. She looked back at me, smile on her face, before she disappeared. Why not? I guess I made her fantasy come true. You know, shining knight on a white horse, and all that.

I ignored the stares, questions, and threats, pausing only to smile. Why ruin a good moment?

At least I remembered to give the twins the bag of money. Fred and George seem like such charming chaps, you know. So why do I have this pressing need to check my pockets?

[fin/ende]

Next: Chateau Dursley