A/N- this story delves deep into the realms of insanity, it was written by myself and my friend at the end of my fifteenth b-day.
Harry potter was plotting. He wasn't planning. Never, ever, say he was planning. That usually led to loss of limbs; there was a difference between planning and plotting, which we will come to later.
Hermione Granger walked in the door. Actually, she ran because the sphinx that had been left out of the Goblet of Fire was after her. She slammed the door behind her and looked at the chair where Harry sat.
Only, it wasn't Harry anymore. It was a Harpy named Harrius, who went by Harry for short.
Harry was really normally called Harrius, but insisted on being called Harry. Only Hagrid, who had first brought Harrius from Greece, called him Harry.
Now, he was going to return to Greece and needed help from Hermione. Who was still staring slack jawed at the ugly, revolting, repulsive, repugnant, gruesome, and hideous being before her. "Harry? Is that you?" she asked after she regained her senses.
"Can't you see past this face?" Harrius asked. "You, of all people ought to be able to see that despite the fact I am a harpy, I still have a mind. But I have come to you because I need your help."
"Why not Harry's help?"
"He is untalented and useless except when he becomes a pigheaded fool"
"sure, he has his faults but he is somewhat intelligent. Most of the time… okay you're right he is pigheaded." Hermione admitted after a moments ranting and thought.
"We need to find a Horcrux."
"You-know-where-a-Horcrux-is?" Hermione choked.
"Yes, we all do. Voldemort was veryinterested in the ancient Greek sorcerers."
The authoress breaks for extreme writers block. Thank you and please review.