Only Me

Chapter 2

Getting settled in the 11th century was hard. Like really fucking hard. Not only did everyone speak some weird Ye-Olden-Language of what was most likely Welsh, but in the eleventh century, no one spoke English. This meant that I was stranded in an unknown time, ruled by unknown people, speaking only unknown languages. Yeah, it was great that I could speak most languages of the twenty-third century but that didn't mean jack in the freaking dark ages.

Luckily, I managed to get a job as a fisherman. Now for me, being a fisherman was a very easy job, my working day went like this:

.

. Step 1 - Get on enchanted boat

. Step 2 - Go reasonable distance out on the water

. Step 3 - Set up Notice-Me-Not charms

. Step 4 - Summon slightly more than average fish

. Step 5 - Spend the day trying to figure out Welsh

.

I quickly started to make a name for myself, being the top producer of fish, speaking an unknown language and being riddled in scars meant that I was mysterious and fancy (or the Devil reincarnated, the jury was still out on that one). The main scars that people focused on were my missing leg (When we were captured by Bellabitch I was tortured, my leg was all mangled and infected and after being there for a month there was absolutely no chance of having a leg again so now like half of my leg was gone and replaced by what used to be a high-tech silver contraption but now in the middle ages was a well carved hunk of wood.) and my burn (during the first task of the tri-wiz I got myself burned, -honestly, who puts a mediocre fourteen year old wizard in front of a dragon and expects him to come out unscathed- it went from the left half of my waist, all along my left arm and onto my face, just snatching the left corner of my mouth. Now most of the time a burn wouldn't be an issue -grab some burn paste, slather it on and you are good to go- however the Potter Luck™ meant that dragon fire -and Fiendfyre-, was the only fire untreatable by magic. It left most of my left side basically unfeeling. I still had most mobility however my skin was messed up, it was a mangled mess and quite honestly horrific to look at.).

Anyway, by now I had been in the village for just under three years (applying glamorous as necessary) and I was known by many. I was the mysterious man that could complete the most impossible of tasks but when faced with something simple had no idea what they were supposed to do. I would invite the entire village over for meals twice a month (to make sure that they were getting fed) and somehow have more than enough food, however I couldn't hold a simple conversation. I could grow plants never thought to exist, but I didn't know who was on the throne.

However that didn't change the fact that life was dull and so when I saw a man emerge from what looked to be a tree (was that a Notice-Me-Not?! Why on g-ds green Earth was there a Notice-Me-Not on a tree, in a dimension without any magic?!) I wasn't surprised. I was however surprised by the fact that his Death Stamp had some odd mashup of seemingly random words and numbers.

Only me. Only fucking me.

A/N: Hi, I didn't say it last time but I don't own Harry Potter; You can tell because I am not a bigoted transphobe.

Anyway, I hope that you have enjoyed the second chapter of my first full length story!

Anyways thanks,
Grubby