Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies

Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel

What's this all about?

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

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Plot Bunny:

Harry Potter is soon to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts when a female counterpart from another universe appears. Can Hetty Potter be the force to turn this war?

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Henrietta Lily Potter – almost universally known as Hetty – waved her wand in a complex pattern as she chanted the ancient words. She was only just eighteen, but appeared to be older and more experienced than such a young age should allow. The great green eyes, once so bright and expressive, were now emotionless but for the battle-weary look that crept in when she was able to relax. Her habitual expression was equally unreadable, but for the narrowed, calculating eyes that instantly appraised every situation.

Hetty's long hair was the usual black, springy mess, a problem which she solved by putting it into a braid which was then wound around her head and pinned securely. She was slightly taller than average, for a girl her age, and slim, but unusually fit. Instead of wearing ordinary robes, Hetty wore a set of bottle-green combat robes. Made of some resistant material, these buttoned to the waist before developing a slit down the front and back, allowing for easy movement. Underneath was worn a pair of stretchy yet durable black pants. Completing the ensemble were a pair of reinforced dragon-hide boots, a wand holster a bit below her left arm, and several daggers concealed about her person. The entire outfit was covered by a black hooded cloak.

Hetty had lived a hard life. Abused by her only living relatives, her happiness at Hogwarts had been short-lived thanks to the return of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Informed that only she could defeat him, Hetty had trained to fight, while one by one the people she cared for fell. By sixteen she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; within six months she was a major strategist and commander, leading others in battle. Dumbledore had died, the Ministry had fallen, and those of the Light that remained rallied around Hetty, depending on her to lead the war against Voldemort. It had taken a couple of years, and untold lives, but finally Voldemort was dead.

The Ministry had been reinstated, after its form had been given a major overhaul and a complete revision of the laws were made. The wizarding world was beginning to recover, and as far as Hetty was concerned, she was no longer needed. All she wanted now was to live her life, somewhere where she wouldn't be bothered and where she could pretend to be a normal teenage girl. Somewhere where her friends weren't all dead. That was why she had spent the last few months continuing research begun by Albus Dumbledore before the First War, designed to transfer a person from one universe to another. As Hetty finished the incantation, she only hoped that she would land somewhere that held better prospects for her than this world did.

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Harry James Potter was, to put it bluntly, having a miserable summer. Over the years he had been subjected to a great deal of – unpleasantness – at the Dursley's hands, but this year had been worst of all. Harry didn't really know why things had gotten so extreme this summer. He'd always been treated unkindly, underfed, and occasionally smacked about the head; now, however, things were much, much worse. Uncle Vernon had begun drinking in the evenings, and whenever he'd had a fair bit to drink he made his way upstairs and beat Harry up, leaving him bloody and bruised every night. Knowing that Harry couldn't be seen in such condition, the Dursley's were only letting him out once a day, and that to use the bathroom for five minutes; otherwise he was ignored until Vernon's nightly visit. He wasn't even being brought food a lot of the time.

Harry lay curled up on his bed, breathing raggedly. His entire body throbbed, and he felt dangerously faint. One eyes was swollen almost shut, the rest of his body covered in bruises and gashes. It hurt every time he breathed, and Harry suspected that some of his ribs were broken.

What the hell was the Order doing? He hadn't written, even been seen for weeks, let alone written every three days like he was supposed to. Wasn't he under guard? Where were the people meant to be watching him? Honestly, the outcome of the war against Voldemort depended upon him, and they didn't even to bother to check that he was okay every now then?

Not to mention Ron and Hermione. Some friends they were. An owl had delivered some letters a couple of times, and the owl had been chased off by Vernon, the letters thrown in his room. Harry had managed to drag himself over to read them. 'Honestly, Harry, why aren't you writing?' 'How did you go in your OWLs?' 'Did you hear the Cannons won a match?' 'You're not sulking again, are you Harry? You know we can't tell you anything.' Harry had been at first incredulous at his friend's indifference to his lack of response, then bitter. When it had finally sunk in that they weren't going to be of any help to him, he had simply laughed, almost hysterically, all the while crying at the pain it triggered from his ribs. After a while he'd stopped laughing and simply continued crying, silently. No one cared, no one worried about him. He could die here, and they wouldn't even notice that anything was wrong until he didn't show up to school.

Harry was lying in the darkness when there was a sudden BOOM and the house shook. He froze and listened furiously, heart hammering in his chest, dread sweeping over him as he made out spells among the shouts and yells. There was a shriek, no doubt from Aunt Petunia, and a bellow from Vernon. Harry heard him go thumping his room to investigate.

Once again, Harry simply wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. Here he was, the hope of the wizarding world, put in such bad shape that he doubted he'd be able to cast a single spell, even if Vernon hadn't taken his wand.

Harry sighed. Life sucked.

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Hetty landed with a thump in the darkness, automatically dropping into a crouch to absorb the force of her landing. Instantly all her danger alerts were on; there was shouting and screaming nearby, and the flashes of colored light that usually meant a wizard battle.

Hetty swore inside her head and moved in a rapid half-crouch toward the source of the chaos.

I'm in Privet Drive! She thought in amazement as she ran, recognizing the street even at night. Back home half the street had been blown to pieces after Death Eaters had attacked her aunt and uncle's house; Hetty had survived, but the Dursley's had not.

Hetty swore mentally once again as she beheld the battle going on outside number four. Then, taking a deep breath, she began creeping around to the back of the house. If there was another Hetty Potter living there, then the priority right now was to get her out.

Hetty was fine until she was a few minutes within the back door. One of the Death Eaters spotted her, and moved to curse her; Hetty instantly sprang into action. Dodging the Death Eater's aim she shot off a spell of her own before they could get more than halfway through the curse. The Death Eater fell, a hole blasted through the centre of their chest, alerting the other Death Eaters to her presence.

For a few moments, Hetty was fighting off attacks from every side; as she continued to fight using her wand she ducked and used her left hand to pull a dagger out of her boot, straightening up again to stab the nearest Death Eater. Another few moments and the Death Eaters all lay around her feet. She had to act quickly; no doubt more Death Eaters would make their way to the back door, and then there'd be even more trouble.

Hetty blasted through a window and swung herself through, landing on carpet and broken glass in the living room. She moved swiftly towards the stairs; Uncle Vernon was making sure the door was secure, and knowing that she didn't have time to waste speaking, shot a stunner at his back. She dashed up the stairs, pausing as she reached what had been her room, the door secured with six separate locks. Hetty alohamora-ed them all, opened the door and stepped through.

She could make out a crumpled shape in the moonlight, curled up in the middle of the bed. Quick, shallow breaths filled the air.

"Lumos," Hetty ordered, and a bright light sprang from the tip of her wand. She gasped.

A boy lay on the bed, probably a year or two younger than she was. He has black hair like hers, and one brilliant green eye watched her fiercely. What really startled her, though, was the terrible condition he was in.

"Christ!" Hetty exclaimed under her breath. Still, no time to think about it now. "Okay, kid, we need to get you out of here. Where's your wand?"

With obvious pain the boy pointed at a drawer on his dresser, to which a padlock had somehow been attached. Hetty unlocked it and sure enough, a wand was sitting on top of some clothes. She pulled it out and stuck it in her holster.

"Listen up, okay? The house is swarming with Death Eaters, and they're going to be up here any minute. I'm going to Apparate you out, 'kay?"

Without waiting for an answer she knelt on the bed and wrapped an arm around the boy, who promptly screamed in agony. Bugger, Hetty thought, but Apparated both of them away to Hogwarts.

Actually, to be strictly accurate, the two Apparated to just outside the Hogwarts wards. The boy continued to scream.

"Ah, shit," Hetty observed. "Petrificus Totalis!"

The boy's arms snapped to his sides, his body wrenching itself straight. Hetty winced in sympathy, but it had to be done. Levitating her new charge, Hetty began the long walk up to the castle.

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When Harry had heard the locks on his door spring open, he was convinced that he was doomed. Then a decidedly female voice had gasped "Christ!" in undoubted shock and concern, and Harry realized, with sudden hope, that he might get rescued after all. He was still suspicious – after all, this woman was a complete stranger – but when she appeared to want to help him out of there, he decided to take his chances.

When she held him she inadvertently put pressure on his ribs, and the sheer, searing pain had made him cry out. They arrived at Hogwarts, a point in her favour, and so Harry had no idea what to make of it when she cast Petrificus Totalis on him and began levitating him.

The woman glanced sideways at him.

"Sorry 'bout that," she told him. "You're less likely to have things move out of alignment while you're being levitated if you're frozen like that. Who are you, anyway?"

Harry rolled a startled eye in her direction. Surely she was kidding.

"I mean," she continued, "you've got hair and eyes just like mine, so, what, you must be my counterpart then. Never thought you'd be a boy. How odd's that? Several years younger than me, too. Sorry to ramble on. My name's Hetty, Hetty Potter."

Harry's brain froze.

Potter?

Who the hell was she? Some kind of long-lost relative? Cousin? What? What the –

"No," the girl said calmly, seemingly able to divine his thoughts, "we're not related. I am a version of you, from another universe. Long and complicated story. I'm assuming, since you got attacked by Death Gobblers back there –" If Harry could have laughed, he would have; she made the Death Eaters sound like turkeys or something " – that Moldy-Voldy's still around in this universe."

She didn't seem to expect an answer, which was good seeing as how he was still frozen. She lapsed into silence the, leaving Harry to think furiously about the night's events, and his bewildering rescuer.