Hey, y'all, it's my first fic.
Pity me.
Since this is said first fic, these are my first author's notes. Joy! All I ask is that you ignore the lame title and chapter headings (okay, maybe they're not so lame, but maybe I don't like them because an artiste is never satisfied with her work…yeah, that's it), and if you MiSTie me, please, please, let me know. Not because you're asked to, not because you feel compelled to by the power of cheese (mmm…lactosey), but because I really, really wanna read it if you do. See, I try to write with a MiSTie in my mind, criticizing all my sentences for me as I type them. I just want to see if you can do better :] So, enjoy the story, remember the Cardinal Rule that "(Positive) Feedback = (More) Chapters," and awaayyy we go!
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Disclaimers: All characters below aren't mine, they belong to J.K. Rowling, who is only one of the many Goddesses I worship, and some other people who paid her money to say they are also theirs. I only have a dollar left, 'cause my college took it all. What will a dollar buy me? A molted feather from Hedwig? A wand from the prized 'stick' tree? The invisibility cloak? Sold! (Cha-ching!) Hey, wait, there's nothing there…
Chapter 1: Me, Myself, and I
He thought he had seen it all.
Within the past five years, Harry had been witness to many a fantastic thing at Hogwarts. Not only was the sight of mere teenagers like himself commanding the magick of the ancients with a stick a daily occurrence, but also paintings whose subjects chatted, ranted, or fought with any student who came too close to their canvases. He and his classmates had also seen humans transfigure themselves into a variety of beasties and back again in the time it took for one to take a breath, as well as plates and dishes which could fill to the brim with a cornucopia of delights with a flick of a wand.
Never, however, in his short but extraordinary life had he seen himself walking across school grounds.
It wasn't simply someone who resembled him, but a living, breathing, carbon-copy replica of himself. All in all, he found the experience to be quite…upsetting. It had began as a relatively clear day, only the second week into the fall semester. Harry had been walking across the courtyard with Ron and Hermione towards the Dungeon for Potions class when it clipped his right shoulder, knocking his books to the ground. Harry threw an angry look over his shoulder at the offending student, muttering "run into me, why don't ya, you blind git." No sooner had the words left his mouth when the other student turned around.
Harry had seen his reflection in the mirror countless times, but it never blinked when he didn't, or vice versa. This was definitely something else. His eyes grew round as the other student turned his gaze upon Harry. It was himself, though with cold, emotionless eyes producing a blank and deadened stare. And, right above that, was the Scar.
Harry blinked, and the other student turned and hurried off once more. What the bloody hell…?
"Oy, Harry! I think you dropped something!" Harry turned around to face Ron, who nodded at the books scattered at Harry's feet. Hermione smacked Ron lightly on the arm. "Ron!" The ginger-headed boy threw his hands up protectively. "What? I was gonna help," he laughed. "Besides, I wouldn't let my best friend bend allll the way down there to pick his books up alone, now would I? He might cut himself on that long, sharp blade of grass there and end up in Pomfrey's care for another year. Right, mate?" Ron asked, looking up at Harry. His friend only blinked, still shaken by his encounter.
"Mate? That wanker say something to you--?"
"You saw him?" Harry asked excitedly in a hushed voice. Ron nodded. "Oh, I saw him alright, and IF THAT GIT'S GOT SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU, THEN HE'D BETTER NOT SAY IT IN FRONT OF ME, 'CAUSE I'LL TEAR--" Ron continued to yell in the direction of the long gone student until Hermione hushed him. "RON! Really now, everyone already thinks you're crazy." She turned and began to walk in the direction of the Dungeon once more.
"Crazy?! Who thinks I'm crazy? Have you been talking to George, or did Fred say something? I bet it was Malfoy, that sneaky little bastard--" "I have to stop by the Ladies' Room before class," Hermione called over her shoulder, smiling as she silenced Ron's tirade once more, "I trust you boys won't get lost without me to hold your hands?" She smiled, then nodded. "Good." With that, she hurried off.
Ron shook his head as he and Harry bent to recover the fallen books. "'Ladies' Room' my arse, she just wants to get the seat up front. Call me crazy, will she? I bet she's got a thing for Snape, don't you think so, Harry?" Ron looked at his friend as they both stood up together, puzzled by the look of fear which briefly flitted across the other boy's eyes. Ron softened his voice so that only Harry could hear him.
"Harry, you alright? Who was that?"
Harry stuttered as he answered Ron. "Uhm…me…may, um, maybe we oughta get to class, after all." Damn it. He managed a small smile in spite of his cowardice. "Besides, I swear Snape's getting worse every year. Not that being late is going to help him hate me any less." Ron sighed. "Yeah, you're right about that. Who knows, maybe having Hermione sitting up there that close to him will soften the bugger up a bit." The boys continued chuckling as they hurried to class, although Harry's eyes were constantly scanning their path for a glimpse of his other self.