HARRY BOTTER AND THE WHAT WHERE WHO NOW?

By MYRTLE THE TYRTLE

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A/N: This a work of complete fiction. All characters involved are not real, and also do not belong to me, MYRTLE THE TYRTLE. It would also be wise to mention at this point that I am not a real tyrtle (and for those interested, I have learned how to spell my name! Thanks to Mione's Longlost Twin!)

Anyway, in this chapter there will be a bit of background info for those of you who have read Chappie One but are like "what?", and an author who is easily distracted from studying. If you enjoy this as much as I hate studying, then leave a review. However, if you felt reading this was like studying (too much meaningless crap, etc.) then let me know, also by review. M

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Chapter Two: Revelations

"OK, so run that by me again?" said Harry.

Ronnie sighed. It had now been a week since they had found Harry wandering in the school grounds and brought him to the hospital room. But he still had no idea what was happening or where he was.

"Right, well you're a student at Hogwarts High School, located in Wellington, New Zealand. This is the hospital room at the aforesaid school, where nurse Madam Pomfrey and the Head of Healing classes Professor Smethwyck have been looking after your badly beaten brain and body for the past week."

"So… Hogwarts in Wellington? That's interesting, coz I go to Hogwarts in the UK."

Ronnie and Hermes gave Harry a funny look. "Harry, you do know that the whole of the UK was destroyed in the First Wizarding War, right?" asked Hermes.

"What? What year is this?"

"It's 1997."

"But… I don't understand…" Harry sat there rocking backwards and forwards, just the way Dobby the house-elf did when he was upset. Except Harry wasn't upset, he just had no idea where he was or what he was doing here or how he got here or who these people were or…

"Harry Botter?" It was the nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Only, she wasn't the nurse Harry remembered from his Hogwarts, this was a young woman with long, blonde hair flowing out down her back. "You have a visitor."

"OK, who is it."

"The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?"

"Good afternoon, Harry," he said, for indeed it was an afternoon.

"Hello, sir. Aren't you meant to be dead?"

"Me, dead? I should hope not. Although I do fear I may be next, especially in these dire and dangerous times."

"Dangerous? Is Lord Voldemort here, too?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I do not recognise this name. However, Lord Devereaux is the governor of the school. Perhaps you're delusional."

"No, I'm perfectly fine, except I don't know how I got here."

"Can you remember anything since before you woke up here?"

"A little… perhaps we could use your pensieve, sir, to see what I remember."

"Pensieve?" asked Dumbledore, in a bemused kind of way.

"You know, round bowl, put your memories in it…"

"Oh, you mean a Remembowl. Yes, it's in my office. Come with me and we'll get it."

Dumbledore turned and stopped suddenly, as if shocked, when he saw Ronnie and Hermes. "Shouldn't you be in class, Mister Grunge and Miss Wozlich?" They obediently scampered off, and the tall man led Harry down a circular staircase (which didn't move) into a small corridor with small offices on either side. Right at the end was Dumbledore's office. It contained a desk and a small filing cabinet. Absolutely nothing like what Harry remembered.

Dumbledore opened the single drawer of the filing cabinet, and pulled from a seemingly empty bottom a small, plastic green bowl that was full of a swirling silver substance.

"I trust you know what to do, Harry…" he said, and Harry pulled a strand of memory out of his head with the tip of his wand. He was glad that this at least hadn't changed.

He lowered the wand into the bowl, and then felt an uncomfortable and familiar jerk behind his navel as he and Professor Dumbledore were launched into the bowl.

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Harry was back in the office of Professor Damarez, watching himself struggle against his teacher's spell.

Both he and Dumbledore watched in silence as the professor made the potion that, as they now realised, had cast Harry into an alternate dimension.

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Back in the safety of Dumbledore's office, the old man eased himself down in his wooden chair.

"So… my life is not real? I am just made out of other people's memories?"

Harry, knowing that Dumbledore wouldn't approve, did not speak.

"This is… wonderful!"

What? Did he just say that?

"Everything I know… is it true?"

"Well for a start, sir, my name is Harry Potter, you are dead, and Lord Voldemort is terrorising the undestroyed country that is the United Kingdom."

"Fan-tastic!"

"I'm sure it is, sir."

"Yes, Harry. But we've got to be getting you back! I bet your parents would be worried!"

"About that, professor. When I was a baby, Lord Voldemort attacked and killed my parents, and tried to kill me because there was a prophecy that said I would kill him one day. He failed, but left me with this scar." Harry pulled back his hair to reveal the lightening scar.

"But… but… that's Neville's life story!"

"Neville Longbottom?"

"No, no, Neville Bryce. His parents were targeted the exact same way as yours were, except by a wizard named Frodo Masserparez. Quite a coincidence, isn't it."

"Hang on. Frodo Masserparaz… do you have a quill and some parchment, sir?"

Dumbledore provided the requirements, and Harry wrote the villain's name out in big letters. He then scrawled lines, and more letters on the parchment, until it read:

F R O D O M A S S E R P A R A Z

P R O F E S S O R D A M A R A E Z

"It's Professor Damarez!" he cried triumphantly! "He's the one in the memory, and he sent me here!"

"Yes, this is starting to make sense," said the professor. "He was created in our world by the memories of others… or perhaps by his wand. Either way, Harry, we need to sort out a way to get you back. I'm sure you need to go and kill your Dark Lord, just as Neville is doing now."

"How long will this take, sir?"

"I honestly don't know, but I suggest you go to class as Harry Botter, the boy who you are supposed to be until I contact you."

"OK, sir. Where would class be, for Harry Botter?" asked Harry.

"Hmmm… Monday, period five… you've got transfiguration with Professor Mayberry in Room 6. I'll write you a note."

"Thanks, sir. Now just whereabouts is Room 6?"

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A/N: Sorry if this seems a little short, but it should get better. The only reason that I wrote this was coz I got this review that seemed like they had no idea what I was doing, and reading over it I could kind of understand that I couldn't understand what I wanted you guys to understand.

Anyway, hope you can make sense of my ideas – if you don't just contact me and I'll try and make it clearer for you.

M