Disclaimer: A rock? A little pebble by the door? Is that the best she can do? Not me, uh-uh, nope, no, don't even think about it. I don't own Harry Potter but if I ever get a chance to look Jo Rowling in the eye for a few seconds I will. Since I don't know where she lives however, other than England, I doubt that's ever going to happen. Too bad, he's hot. Read the story, like it, review it, meet me at the bottom. Oh yeah, I don't own anything else in this little tale you know I didn't come up with either.

Are You Kidding Me?

My life did not go to hell in a handbasket.

It was a 1999 Chevy Impala.

Damn, I loved that car. It was old and showing its age, but it ran good, had never given me any major problems and it got me where I wanted to go. It just had two things wrong with it: it didn't have anti-lock brakes or an airbag. Now, I'm not saying either one would have helped in the situation I found myself in, but they sure couldn't have hurt.

It started off like every other day: I was headed home on the highway in rush hour traffic, in the passing lane, slowly overtaking a semi tractor-trailer, when out of the corner of my eye I saw this asshole in the southbound lane giving people heart attacks and being the cause of a tremendous amount of road rage. You know who I mean, the kind of person who's doing 90 when traffic is plodding along at 50 to 60, zipping in and out of the barely big enough spaces between cars just so they can get somewhere five or ten seconds faster. I saw him move from that side's passing lane, which was blocked by a car next to a big rig, pass behind the semi and disappear behind it. What seemed like a second later, he reappeared at the front of the rig and cut in front of it. He must have startled the driver because the rig started shaking and smoke came off the tires as the driver locked up the brakes.

Then he started to jackknife, the obviously loaded trailer pushing the back of the cab to the right. In an attempt to regain control, the driver tried to correct and the whole thing was suddenly in the median, narrowly missing the car that had been passing him and another just behind him. Dirt and grass flew as the entire vehicle roared across the strip of ground between the two sets of lanes…

…headed straight for me.

It was all instinct as I slammed my foot down on the brake. I had a truck to my right and a car in front of me with no idea at all if there was anyone behind me.

There was.

I felt the impact from behind and with my brakes locked up my tires lost traction and I started a skid as the rear of my car started to slide up and to my right. I tried to correct; my windshield filled with the image of the runaway semi in front of me as it blew through the raised cable fencing in the median to prevent moving vehicles in trouble going one direction from sliding into the lanes going the other way.

I'd seen the results of some of those accidents and those cables did their job and did it well. They'd been designed to stop cars, however, moving at an angle to them, not fully loaded semi tractor trailers moving in an almost perpendicular direction to them.

Time started to slow to a crawl as I watched the semi snap off three of the steel posts set in a concrete base like twigs, the cables ripping free of the subsequent posts supporting them as the behemoth dragging them barely slowed.

And then we hit.

My beloved Impala had slid through just over ninety degrees and the truck connected on the passenger side of the front end at an angle. In slow time I watched as the hood buckled upwards, then back and suddenly the engine was joining me in the passenger compartment. It was very rude however as it caught my right knee and pressed it back and up as the shattered end of the driveshaft sticking out the back of the transmission spun like a saw, shredding the interior of the car and my leg at mid-thigh.

Damn, that's going to hurt when this is all over. I thought rather dispassionately as inertia finally made itself known and I started to surge forward even as my shoulder harness tried to keep me in my seat.

The point became rather moot as the dashboard surged toward me, the steering wheel crushed me back into my seat before snapping off and the end of the steering column disappeared into my chest.

((((((OOOOO))))))

"Well! What do we have here?"

I was suddenly in pitch black darkness, which made me somewhat happy as I'd just watched my steering column punch my heart into the back of my seat. I mean, in the dark and being able to think and not in pain was a whole lot better than total oblivion or taking a bath in a burning lake in hell, right? Maybe?

But, when I say black darkness, that's what I mean. There wasn't a single pinprick of light anywhere I could see, and I couldn't see my hand in front of my face.

Except I couldn't feel my face.

Or my hand. Or my fingers, or body or arms, legs, feet, or toes.

Maybe that lake might not be so bad. Sure, it would probably hurt, be agonizing actually, but I'd be able to see what was going around me.

On second thought, let's skip the agony.

But now there was this voice. Not spooky or scary or anything, more like a teacher I'd had once. He'd sounded just like that when he'd found and examined a treat on his desk at Christmas.

Right before he ate it.

Okay, I admit it, I'm a coward. Haunted houses scare the ever-loving crap out of me. I know they're not real. I know I can't get killed in one, or stabbed, or tore to pieces by zombies or eaten alive. I know that. However, the adrenaline surge I got the one time a friend of mine talked me into going to one would have let me pick the building up off its foundations just so I could get out of it. And that was when I could see!

"Oh, yes! Very nice!"

Now I was stuck here, maybe it was hell, unable to see, move, touch, totally helpless, with someone something who could do all of that.

So why wasn't my heart hammering away like a runaway locomotive? Did I still have one? (Remember that steering column). Maybe I couldn't see because I had no eyes? Didn't explain my hearing though. I didn't seem to have ears either, but I could hear just fine.

"Excellent! Just what I was looking for!"

Couldn't hurt to try and communicate, yes it possibly could, but hey, you never know until you try.

"Hello?" My mouth worked, but like my ears, I didn't think I had one.

"Wonderful! Just have to add a little something. I love it when things just seem to fall into place."

"Excuse me?" Add what? I didn't feel anything. A new heart? Soy sauce?

"Oh, this is going to be perfect! That little pissant thinks he can cheat me? This is going to rock his world!"

"Hey! You!" I shouted this time. I might end up as some extradimensional eldritch horror's midnight snack, but it was getting to be a little annoying being ignored. It would be nice to get a few answers about some of the questions I had, such as 'is this hell?', because if it was it was a lot better than that fiery lake; 'is this heaven?' because it lacked a lot in the harp and wings thing; 'Who are you?' because, you know, this guy, whoever he was, might know what the hell was going on. I like to know things like that, so I know when to duck and cover and when to run like hell.

I prepared to shout again, when:

"There! All done! Oh, this is going to be so much fun to watch! Now, off you go!"

What? Wait! The world dropped out from under me.

((((((OOOOO))))))

My feet slammed down onto a flat stone slab as my knees buckled slightly to soften the impact.

Wait, feet? Hadn't I lost one of those in the crash, along with my leg up to the thigh? Looking down I made another discovery: tits, a rather nice pair…on my chest. "No, no, no, no, no, no…" I muttered frantically as I made a frantic grab for my crotch. "Are you fricking kidding me?" I shouted as I discovered what wasn't there. "Couldn't you have just kept the leg?" I demanded angrily of the night sky. In a bad clichéd story, I'd have heard evil sounding chuckling in reply to that question.

Nothing.

Muttering under my breath about smart-assed deities, demons, gods or whatever the hell that voice in the dark belonged to, I looked back down. Aside from the aforementioned breasts, which were really nice looking, I appeared to be wearing a full-length gown of hunter green material with an auburn brown over bust style corset with a sweetheart top that tapered down to my waist over a flat belly. Okay, maybe not so bad if I get rid of that gut I'd started getting of which no amount of exercise and dieting seemed to do anything about. There was a brown leather ring belt tied around my waist on which I could see several pouches.

Very renaissance faire looking. At least I wasn't dressed not dressed like one of the women out of a Vallejo or Frazetta poster.

As I moved my foot to see what kind of footwear I had, deep green leather boots that went up my shin that fit perfectly and were very comfortable, I discovered the skirt was slit down the front with a panel of more of that auburn brown material behind it.

Across my shoulders and back and coming down my arms were three quarter sleeves of the green material with small lace cuffs in white.

I have to admit, I looked hot!

But why did this all look so familiar?

"Who are you, woman?"

Damn! I'd been so upset at finding I'd ended up with two X chromosomes, I hadn't even bothered to look around and see where I was. I had a bad feeling that could lead to bad things happening. I looked to my left, in the direction the voice had come from.

Ooohhh, shite.

There, standing beside the shattered remains of a large cauldron, was a hunched over rat faced man with a silver hand. To my right was a rather handsome, haughty looking man with long white hair in a black cloak. Behind them was a line of men, all with black cloaks and bone white masks.

Standing between the front two was Ralph Fiennes, in full snakeface make-up.

Fricking hell. What did that bastard do with me?

Knowing what I was going to find, I turned around. Sure enough, there, crouching on the ground panting hard and watching me, was Daniel Radcliffe, lightning bolt scar and all. Even as I watched his body shivered in what I figured was Cruciatus induced spasms.

I looked down. The slab I was standing on was the top of a crypt. The name on it was 'Riddle'.

I didn't see a film crew anywhere.

I was sooooo screwed.

"The Dark Lord asked you a question, woman! Answer him!"

Once again, I raised my face to the heavens. "You dropped me into the middle of a Harry Potter story? Really?" I cried out. I mean, literally in the middle of the so-called duel between Potter and Riddle, as a woman, unarmed, in England for God's-sake, outnumbered fourteen or fifteen to one if I didn't count Harry, which I didn't, and facing one of the two most powerful psychopaths in the world. One who probably didn't like, at all, that I had interfered with his entertainment.

I wrote Harry Potter stories; I didn't want to be in one! It was Friday! I had the weekend all planned out! How the hell had my day gone so bad so fast?

"Harry," I said quietly to the boy on the ground, "when it all goes to hell, grab Cedric, summon the cup and get the hell out of here. And stay the hell away from Moody." I added as an afterthought.

"The Dark Lord is waiting, bitch!"

"Lucy," I stated as I turned around, "whenever I want to hear anything out of that pie-hole under your nose, I'll tell you what to say." What can I say? I was going to die one way or another, so riling up the cowardly shite wasn't going to do anything that wasn't going to happen anyway, but if I could distract them long enough for Potter to escape, it would be worth it. Besides, Malfoy was an idiot. "Now, shut up and go wank or something and let the grown-ups talk."

I could see the fury in his face at being addressed that way, as well as heard the chuckles and whispers from those behind him as I did so.

I turned to Riddle. No way was I going to dignify him with a title or his made-up name. "Well, well, well, Tom Riddle. Fancy meeting you here in this God-forsaken place. Come home to spend some time with your relatives?" I challenged. "Your muggle relatives?"

He'd been looking at me in a rather contemplative way, after all, I had dropped out of the sky right in front of him and then proceeded to totally ignore him, but his visage changed to rage at my remarks and his wand came up. "Avada Kedavra!"

Oh, come on! That wasn't the way things were supposed to go! The protagonists are supposed to engage in five or ten minutes of witty repartee, trading sharp barbs as the hero, which would be me right at the moment, worked the villain, in this case Riddle, into a killing rage. Riddle had ruined everything by jumping right past ten minutes of thrilling dialogue!

Oh, and killed me that much earlier.

Except…that wasn't what happened.

Even as his hand with his wand started up, so did my right hand. Palm upwards, fingers spread and cupped, I thrust it upward even as my left hand was making a series of complicated gestures. "Goloren senta ta toon!" I intoned. What it meant, I hadn't the faintest clue.

I found out.

The ground around me flashed brightly as the green flash of the killing curse heading straight for me…vanished.

Okay. I thought, blinking in confusion. That was totally unexpected.

Stunned silence reigned as what had just happened sank into the observing Death Eaters. I had just stopped an unforgiveable…an unstoppable curse. That wasn't supposed to be possible. So how had I done it?

Fifth level power pot with energy net created by a S'daon Sigil comprised of thirteen glyphs forming…

I looked down at the ground where two concentric rings of light, about ten feet in diameter with symbols between them, surrounded me as a download of knowledge poured into my brain explaining exactly what I had done, how I had done it, and what the construct did. Here and now, it would be called a runic array with runes, but my mind stubbornly maintained the sigil/glyph terminology.

I was beginning to think I knew why my outfit was so familiar. Maybe I wasn't so screwed after all.

Movement caught my eye. Tommy-Boy stood just outside the sigil. "Show me how to create this shield and I will let you live."

I wanted to tell him it wasn't a shield, but why should I? He'd just tried to kill me and would try to do it again after I showed him. Uh, no thank you. Not that he'd be able to duplicate it anyway.

What the circle of light was, however, was an energy sink, a big one. Any energy that touched it, spell, lightning, light, even a person touching it, that energy would be diverted into the sigil and stored, like a battery, waiting to be used, both to power the sigil…and by me.

It had its drawbacks, such as you had to set a lower threshold on the sigil or else even such low-level energy as starlight would be sucked into the sink, rendering the effect opaque and therefore blinding you to what was happening outside.

I looked at Tom and smirked. "You do realize don't you, Harry is less of a half-blood than you are." I stated loudly. I wanted this to be heard by all assembled. If I could chip away at his façade, show him for what he was, it might sow dissent among the ranks. Couldn't hurt to try. "At least both of his parents were magical. Only one of yours was." I smiled sweetly, in a mockingly deprecating sort of way, at him.

"Crucio!"

I flinched. I admit it. I was 99.9 percent certain that any energy-based spell would get sucked into the sigil; that included the two Tom loved using the most. That left that tenth of a percent chance it wouldn't, however. Which brought up the other major drawback of this defense: kinetic attacks went right through it. The sigil would draw off some of the kinetic energy, but if the speed was fast enough, solid materials would barely slow down.

Which, of course, would be a bad thing for anyone they were aimed at. I didn't want Riddle to figure that out just yet, however.

If the twenty or so seconds he spent trying to use the torture curse on me were any indication, it wouldn't be too hard to keep him distracted and not thinking about it. He really didn't like me telling everyone about his family.

He finally stopped casting, glaring at me as I stood there smirking at him, which really pinpointed the last major thing wrong with this defense: it wasn't mobile. A magical shield moved with the caster; it went where you went. With the sigil, you were stuck where you were. Oh, well. Tom didn't know that either. Hopefully, he wouldn't figure it out anytime soon.

With a smile, I pointed at a nearby tombstone. "Say, Tom, isn't that your daddy's grave? The one you had Harry tied to? You're muggle daddy? Doesn't it just make your skin crawl knowing that your body is part muggle from use of those bones?"

Yep. Really didn't want people to know about that branch of the family tree. "Bring down her shield!" he roared out in a rage to his followers. He glared as he addressed me again, even as spells, curses and hexes began to splash against my defenses… and get sucked straight into the sink. "You will beg me, witch, to let you tell me your secrets, such will be the pain I give you."

"A loser like you?" I laughed as I stepped down off the crypt lid, glancing at the attacking Death Eaters. Sooner or later, somebody was going to try something a bit more solid than an energy packet and I didn't want to be taken by surprise when they did. "Lost to a one-year-old baby, lost to him again as a firstie, you might want to have a little talk with Lucy about what he did with your diary in second year, and couldn't even manage to kill him tonight."

His face twisted up into a rictus of pure rage. "Be silent, witch!" he roared.

Talk about being thin skinned. I blew him a raspberry.

I picked up a stick that was on the ground, a crooked little thing about a foot long, inside the sigil and tied it to the sink, charging it with energy. I glanced around and saw that Harry had done as directed and departed, apparently without being noticed.

I smirked as the Death Eaters were still hitting the barrier, trying to overwhelm it, still not realizing they were only charging the battery as it were. Well, let them waste their time, I could use the power.

I grinned at Riddle. "You've got a bunch of wimps, there, Tommy. Why do you even keep such weaklings around? To make yourself look stronger?"

He raged at me some more before tossing a couple more AK's at me, which only got turned into stored power.

I thought it was funny. What he didn't know was that I'm not a witch… I'm a sorceress and that's a whole different thing and why am I referring to myself in the feminine forms?

Okay, I don't have the male parts anymore, I do have a rocking hot female body, but I spent my entire life as a male so shouldn't I still be thinking of myself as one? I mean, come on! Less than an hour and I'm already thinking of myself as a woman?

Although, if I was going to be a woman, I really had to thank the SOB for making me this one. A more bad-ass, short tempered, bitch I couldn't have asked for. I'd made her up for the first dungeon I'd ever DM'd, a thirty-first level magic user, and thirtieth level illusionist. When I'd written her into stories, I'd combined the two into one and simply called her a sorceress and made up a set of rules for the whole genre. As a neutral/neutral, she was able to kick the ass of both good and evil, depending upon her mood.

I'd been working as I'd mused about my current condition and at my feet was a black circle, and when I say black, I mean it made the dark region where I'd spent time with the bogey man seem like a brightly lit room. I had plans for that circle.

I saw a tombstone suddenly float into the air. Time was up so it was time to go. "Hey, Tommy!"

He scowled at me as I pointed my stick at him, totally unafraid. He'd seen me pick it up off the ground and knew it was harmless. "Skah!" It was much easier to perform sorcery if you already had the power you needed and that stick had a lot.

I saw his eyes widen in shocked surprise as what left the end of the stick as a small point of light quickly expanded into an eight-foot fireball in the time it took to roar across the distance between us. Not only was it just a stick, but I had also just fired it through my shield!

What good is a defensive barrier if you can't shoot offensive weapons past, or through it?

As I fired at Riddle I closed my eyes, tightly, and dropped the barrier.

One difference between magic and sorcery was that sorcery adhered more closely to the laws of physics. Not entirely, I thought, but I was new to this, even if I'd made up the rules for it. With magic, if a wizard had made the barrier, when he banished it, that would be it, spell over, the stored energy just going away to who knew where. With sorcery, however, while the spell would dissipate, the collected energy would still be there. Released from its bottle, it was going to do something, probably something catastrophic. You can't destroy energy. Normally.

So, I changed it.

I took a half step sideways as the sorcerous equivalent of a large flash-bang grenade, a really big one, went off with a loud boom, the flash bright enough to show through my eyelids. I heard cries and curses from behind me as I opened my eyes. The Death Eaters eyes, accustomed to the dim night sky, had been overcome by the brilliant flash.

The same could be said for Pettigrew, whom I was now standing next to thanks to the mover disks I had conjured up, who was hunched over rubbing at his eyes and crying. I reached out and grabbed him by his collar and pulled. "Come on, Rat Boy, we have people to meet who want to see you." I stepped onto another disk almost hidden in the grass, and prayed my memory of the movie with the scene at the Tri-Wiz debacle was as faithful to current events as I'd seen so far.

A/N: Hello to all and welcome to my world. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Esbet R'vensBl'ud, twin sister of the named one at the top of this page. Some say evil twin sister, but after a nice little chat with them about their bad manners they never say it again, or much of anything else.

You may wonder why someone other than the owner of this account, again such as the same name at the top of this page, would be posting a story here. That would be because my older sister by two whole minutes is having a mental breakdown. It seems she has acquired an enormous case of writer's block, as in castle sized block, of her favorite story, House of Bimbos or something like that. What? Pffft! I'll take Narcissa Malfoy on any day of the week. Emma Granger too, only from a lot farther away and from an ambush position. I'm not stupid!

Anyway, back to my sister. She can't seem to make any headway on that story, she complains her muse is missing who me? Nah! I'd never do something like that (snort!), and she's got so many WIPs going she can't work on either, so can I be blamed if she walks off to bang her head on the doorframe and leaves her computer logged into her account, letting me present you with this literary wonder? I, being of a much higher level of imagination, don't need a silly little muse to write a true masterpiece such as this. And unlike her, I have finished it, so you won't have to wait months or years for the next update, just a few days between chapters as I proofread and improve it.

As I said in the disclaimer at the top of this page, read it, like it, review it. Oh, and I don't mind flames, it's so much easier to roast the flamer if they provide their own. The goblin guard dragons do so love barbecue.

What are you waiting for? Get busy!