Stranger Than Fiction
Stranger Than Fiction by Pseudonymous Entity
Summary: Harry receives the HP books mysteriously on his 9th birthday, believing it a happy accident that he shares so many similarities with the protagonist. Until one day his cousin Dudley's birthday comes and brings talking snakes and disappearing glass along with it. Maybe they aren't storybooks at all. Maye the tell the future.
Warning: I don't think we need any at the moment.
Characters: Harry Potter...also Fictional Harry Potter.
AN: Trying to make my rounds on all the stories and this was next on the list to update. So here you guys go, hope you're still interested. On a side note, I definitely need to edit the first chapters. I don't think they were edited AT ALL when I first posted them.
-Pseu
Shut up and put your money where you mouth is
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Now we're partners in crime, don't be a baby - remember what you told me..."
-Waking up in Vegas
It really shouldn't be so easy, Harry decided.
It was almost disappointing. Not that he was ready for any sort of trouble but he had expected to have a bit more difficulty completing his mission. Then, the Harry in the books did seem to have an abnormal amount of luck throughout the story. Perhaps it was a side effect of being the main character? Most main characters in books did tend to make it through the various storylines relatively unscathed.
Of course, Fictional Harry was tortured, hunted, emotionally manipulated, suffered from what could only be described by Real Harry as some form of PTSD, and had to commit suicide in order to save the world.
Real Harry wasn't certain if that counted as getting through it unscathed. But the thought still stood. Fictional Harry did manage to get along much better than he should have been able to considering Real Harry knew much more than Fictional Harry at this same age. Fictional Harry didn't even know he was a wizard yet.
Feeling a mixture of unreasonably smug and lightly disappointed, Harry faced the fireplace. "The Leaky Cauldron."
TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER
Harry walked down the street with his hands in his pockets. It was summer so it wasn't cold at night or least not cold enough for him to require a jumper. Which was good as he didn't have any. Not since the shrinking jumper incident. The silver lining there, of course, was that Dudley's hand-me-downs were always a good two sizes or more too big for Harry and there was more than enough extra fabric for him to curl up in it if he needed to do.
He stopped halfway down the street before continuing to walk at a slower pace. It would be odd for someone to stand in the middle of the street in the middle of the night, after all. Anyone out at this time of night was going somewhere, not loitering aimlessly. It had to be at least half-past nine. Any other kids his age were out past curfew. Best not to bring attention to himself.
How would he get to Diagon Alley, Harry wondered to himself. Because there was no one else there for him to wonder to and even if there were they wouldn't have the slightest idea what on earth he was wondering about. That was sort of sad really.
He knew how Fictional Harry got there the first time. With a half-giant named Hagrid. Real Harry didn't have a magical umbrella, however, and he didn't have a wand to use to summon the Knight Bus. And that was a pity for Real Harry thought that that was one of the most interesting forms of magical transportation he had read about. Magic carpets too though they appeared to be outlawed in wizarding Britain.
Harry then realized that his perfectly ordinary cat lady who often babysat him was, in fact, something called a squib. This means she couldn't cast spells herself or see things like dementors but did have access to and contact with the wizarding world if she so chose. She was in contact with the headmaster at Hogwarts throughout fictional Harry's childhood.
Harry turned on his feet, shoes sliding in the bit of dirt kicked up on the pavement, and made for her house. It was a faded blue colour and looked much like every other perfectly ordinary house on a perfectly ordinary street.
Harry took the key out from under the welcome mat and let himself in. He was used to doing so as he was sent to her when his relatives didn't feel like bringing him along wherever they were going. She was okay, Harry supposed. Nice enough. But her house was forever dusty and had odd smells.
Those might be potions now that Harry thought about it.
An orange cat rubbed against Harry's legs as he made his way through a living room stuffed with felines, cushions, stools, and kitty toys. Most of the cats didn't pay him any mind. Harry reached the carpet that lay in front of the fireplace. Upon the mantel was a small jar. Harry edged around some snoozing felines and stacked a few pet magazines on top of one another and scrambled upon them. Balancing precariously, Harry lifted up on his top toes and grasped the jar. Harry jumped from the magazine stack and examined the jar in his hands. Glittery dust lay within. Harry turned to the fireplace.
Shrugging, because it either was floor powder or it wasn't, Harry took a pinch tossed it into the fire. The flames flickered green immediately, casting an eerie glow over the living room. He was right, she was connected to the floo.
Feeling like he was getting away with this far too easily Harry faced the fire once more. He waited for one beat, two beats. Giving the Gods of the books a chance to intervene.
"The Leaky Cauldron." Harry stepped into the flames.
The world spun around him, making his stomach twist horribly. Harry shut his eyes until he was unceremoniously spat out of the fireplace again. Harry stumbled forward and was caught -with a startled exclamation- by some soul unfortunate it enough to have been standing in front of the fireplace when Harry came out. The unknown person helped steady Harry on his feet which he was eternally grateful for. What a terrible way to travel!
"I say, are you quite alright?"
Harry nodded, patting soot off himself. Not that it made much of difference, he knew he probably looked like a street urchin.
"Are you certain? That was a big tumble. Do you think you may have accidentally come out of the wrong floo? No one else has spat themselves out behind you, not that I make the assumption such unfortunate exits are hereditary, and for someone as young as you, I do assume you were out with a chaperon? I don't suppose you're lost?"
Harry paused and looked around. One large table down the centre of the room and several smaller ones scattered about the edge, a bar at one end and some stairs he knew would lead to rooms to rent. He looked up to firmly reassure his saviour that he was exactly where he meant to be, Harry looked directly into a pair of bright blue eyes behind square glasses, framed with red hair.
Harry stared. "I...you're the one with an evil rat!" Harry's mouth exclaimed before he could stop it. To be fair that was what he had been thinking but he certainly hadn't meant to say it aloud.
The red-headed boy blinked. "What an odd thing to say."
Pseudonymous Entity
2019
Thoughts, Theories, Questions and Limmericks always welcomed
NOTES: Odd indeed. Now what?
-Pseu