A/N: So I'm back, sorry for the slow and tiny update, I have ton's of excuses but none that are worthy enough to actually use.
So without much more filler, I give you a filler chapter. This writing gig is harder than I expected...
Disclaimer: Even though I repeatedly state that J.K. Rowling owns everything, I might as well disclaim all the characters, just to make it seem like an authentic Fanfic.
Daniel stared.
"Bullshit."
'Harry' jerked back, affronted. "Excuse me?"
"I said 'bullshit,'" Daniel said, not directly staring at the man in front of him in case his gaze would light him on fire. "You're not real. You can't be. She invented you." He pointed at Rowling.
She stepped meekly into the entryway, between Harry and Daniel. "Let's discuss this inside."
Daniel looked at the open London street, freezing at two in the morning. He looked at Harry.
Five minutes, three armchairs, two coffees' and a living room later, Daniel started talking again.
"You're Harry Potter."
Harry nodded.
"You're not real."
Harry shook his head.
"You're not real," Daniel repeated, sounding a little desperate.
"I am real."
Daniel paused.
"You were written about in fictional books; books written by the woman sitting beside you."
"Yes. I was also written about in some interesting fanfiction." Harry spared Daniel a half crazed smile. "Very interesting fanfiction."
Daniel pushed his train of thought further, ignoring Harry's comments. The doorbell rang, Rowling sprung up to answer it. "How do you exist?"
"No clue."
There was a gasp at the door, followed by the heavy tread of speedy footsteps.
"Not one?"
Harry appeared to think about it.
"I think, therefore I am."
Daniel rolled his eyes. Harry looked away for a moment, then smiled.
Hermione Granger stood into the entrance of the living room.
At least, what Daniel's brain inferred was Hermione. She looked a bit like Emma Watson, but the woman standing in front of him probably didn't get to have vegetable platters brought to her in between scenes. Her hair was a little longer than Emma's, and she was a little bit taller, but otherwise she looked like she could be Emma's sister.
But there was something off about her. Now that Daniel had mustered up the courage, he noticed that the same thing was wrong with Harry. Every few seconds Harry's and Hermione's face would distort, not very noticeably, and something minor would change. One moment Harry's scar was flour white, another light green. Hermione' s nose one second would be snubbed, the next regular sized. Even their height changed. When Harry had arrived, he had towered over Daniel. Now they were both evenly sized.
"Not quite," she said, interrupting Daniel's train of thought with a smile. "But close."
Harry stood up and started to make his way towards her. "You made it."
Hermione's smile grew as he got closer. She was beaming by the time Harry came to her and pulled her waist to his in a one-armed hug. "Of course." She looked around the room and sat on a couch, pulling Harry down with her. "Let's hope Ron gets here soon. I don't feel like explaining this a million times over."
Rowling entered the living room with another cup of coffee, wide eyed.
"There's going to be more of you?"
Hermione bit her lip. "A couple dozen."
Rowling fainted. The coffee stained the carpet with a brownness a pit bull could be proud of.
"It's not every day you meet your creations. She's going to quite a few more. She's got the right to be a little flustered." Hermione sipped her coffee. "Although we should probably wake her up."
"She's just going to keep fainting. Leave her." Harry made his way towards a couch and pulled Hermione down with him. "let's wait."
For the next few minutes Daniel fidgeted awkwardly as Hermione and Harry waited. He thought the way Harry and Hermione waited was (he fished for a word) unique. For one, he would never wait that way with his mother. Because a) He'd never caress his mother that way and b) he'd never kiss his mother that often.
Daniel came to the conclusion that Harry and Hermione wouldn't mind waiting till the end of the world.
A few minutes later, a wizened old woman that made Daniel want to wince and say 'yes professor' swept in and sat rather forcefully in between Harry and Hermione. Harry glared, and the ricochet of hate made Daniel cringe.
Hoping to ease tension from the situation, he introduced himself. The Respectable Aged Member of Society introduced herself as Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.
Daniel thought he was being clever when he asked "Is that a hint of a Scottish brogue I hear?"
She gave him a look that would freeze Satan in his place. Daniel could feel icicles forming in his nostrils.
"No, you do not."
And that was that.
They waited, with Harry glaring and McGonagall keeping the room PG.
Eventually an even older looking Pillar of Society walked through the door, stepped gingerly over Rowling, then flopped into a large armchair. Daniel noticed that the minor distortions that occurred with Harry and Hermione didn't really happen to this man. Rather, instead of his physical features (of which his truly magnificent beard dominated, mildly accented by his wise-looking half-moon glasses) shifting, his body language constantly changed. Sometimes he was a mildly perverted looking old man, sometimes a savage beast about to choke you out, sometimes a wise sage.
Daniel was developing a headache from the Inconsistencies. It was not soothed by the next person to enter the room.
A large, tomato headed young man stomped into the room, treading heavily on Rowling. He was as equally unstable as the old man. For some reason, whenever he opened his mouth, his jaw would lift and open rapidly, but no sound would come out. The old man giggled. Harry attempted to sneak a kiss from behind the couch while McGonagall was distracted, but was betrayed by the red haired man, who pointed a violent silent finger at him. Daniel sighed.
A train of red haired peoples came through the door, and when they tried to talk they were all as mysteriously silent as the first. After them came a ragged looking man and pink haired woman, who had the same bipolar sickness that afflicted the others, but to a lesser extent. At least they could refrain from a silent torrent of expletives and finger waving.
After them came dozens more characters, all with the same tourretes-like quality, but to a lesser and louder extent than some other red-haired individuals. The most memorable to Daniel was a green-cloaked man, who had black hair so greasy you could run a MacDonald's off it.
For some reason this person lacked much of the feature shifting that plagued the others. He was always medium height, medium build, sharp face, and black, greasy hair. What struck Daniel the most was the man's indomitable sexual aura. For reason's completely out of his comprehension, the greasy-haired individual managed to emit some sort of Pedo-Field. If not for the man's horrible composition, Daniel was reasonably sure that the man who was squinting at the rest of the assembled (Daniel's mind whirled, looking for a word) characters could take over the entire world on sexual attraction alone.
The second his subconscious told his conscious this half-baked thought, he wanted to vomit. What was he thinking? The man in front of him couldn't charm a sexually confused teenager, let alone any sane person. Daniel chalked up his confusion to the constant shifting of features of Rowling's visitors.
When the slow trickling of people flowing into the living room, and people had figured out the correct seating arrangements, Hermione stood up and looked about the room.
"I know you are all wondering how, where, and why you are here." Hermione paused. She pointed a finger at Daniel, and he could feel every head shift to face him. "It's because of him."
Daniel squeaked.
a/n: So there it was. Hope you liked it, I certainly enjoyed writing it, however short. Please, as always, review. Tell me how not to suck. The more you tell me, the earlier (and larger) I want to update.
