When Harry met Harry 3/3
~*~
“For God’s sake Harry, where did the story come from?”
“I don’t know!” Harry shouted, rubbing his temples in irritation. “I got it in the mail and I burned it the first chance I got! It didn’t have a return name or address or anything!”
“Well, fuck, you’d better figure out some way of finding that author, without her story, you’re stuck here, my friend.”
Harry struggled to remember, but there hadn’t been any clue as to just who exactly was disturbed enough to write such…
Hang on…
“There was a picture thing…”
“Huh?”
“On the envelope. It was sealed with a little square picture; a red square with a girl on it. And the word k8matty. Like Kate, but spelled with an eight instead of ‘ate’.”
The Impostor nodded. “It sounds like a fangirl to me. Harry, I think I know where we can find this Kate.”
“Where do we find her?”
“Where one finds every fangirl.”
The Impostor scooped up a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the Gryffindor fireplace.
“Special Hell!” he shouted.
Now, when Harry looked through the Floo and into Special Hell, he made a grave mistake, for the unholy immorality of Special Hell is not something one can just look at and not need a stiff drink afterwards. Looking into Special Hell is looking into perversion itself, and Harry knew that from this moment on, he would be a different man entirely. For this reason, the following descriptions of Special Hell are going to be replaced by a blank space for you to stare at in an effort to preserve your sanity.
Moving on...
“I’m looking for a fanfic author by the name of “k8matty,” The Impostor called. Moments later, a woman with long, curly hair stepped through the grate. Cradled in one arm was a black laptop covered in old stickers. The other was busy adjusting the shirt that she wrongly thought capable of covering her chest.
“Harry!” Kate squealed, beaming at the Impostor. “You just caught me writing a piece of Harpius I think you’ll like… how do you feel about corsets with kilts?”
“YOU!” Harry howled, launching himself at the obviously mad woman, held back only by his body double. “You bought me here to this… this… freak-show!”
“Oh…” Kate sneaked a guilty look at the Impostor. “Yeah, about that…”
The Impostor threw Kate a reproving eyebrow. “Kate, which story did you send Harry? We need to get him back to his world before Rowling notices he’s gone missing.”
Kate huffed and blew a curl away from her sulky face before whipping open her laptop and enlarging the offending document.
“ Harry obeyed, nearly falling arse over tail in his haste to spin around and fling himself over the nearest desk. That was it, right Harry?”
Harry nodded with an expression of disgust. “That’s it. Now throw the laptop in the fire!”
Kate snarled and hugged the MacBook to her chest as though it were her first-born son. “Hands off my preciousss!”
The Impostor sighed. “Kate, would you please print the story?”
One hour later, after Kate had gone home to print the story because her Precious stubbornly refused to print off any printer other than her own, Harry held the smut in his shaking hands and stood in front of the hearth.
“I guess… this is goodbye.” The Impostor clapped his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
Harry felt his eyes water as his likeness drew him into a hug. So familiar and yet so different, it was almost like having a brother.
“Fuck, that’s hot!” Kate chirped. Harry backed away, scowling and then stepped through the blazing fire.
~*~
When Harry emerged from the other side, he was greeted by hordes of friends, students and teachers - none of whom were fucking! - and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed, throwing herself into his arms. “Where were you? You’ve been gone ages, we were so worried!”
“Everyone went looking for you!” Ron explained, gesturing to the assorted people gathered, Gryffindors and other houses alike. Harry was touched by their compassion.
“Harry, what’s this?” Hermione snatched at the paper in Harry’s hands, reading the first paragraph before her eyes widened in horror.
“Holy HELL!” Hermione shrieked, dropping the paper and springing back from Harry as thought scalded. “I think I’m going to vomit!” she warned, charging through the crowd now furiously attempting to seize the paper for themselves.
“Oh my GOD.”
“What the fuck, Potter?”
“Out of my way, Creevy, I am a Professor and… Good Lord! Potter, what in the name of Salazar is this?”
Fuck.
“For God’s sake Harry, where did the story come from?”
“I don’t know!” Harry shouted, rubbing his temples in irritation. “I got it in the mail and I burned it the first chance I got! It didn’t have a return name or address or anything!”
“Well, fuck, you’d better figure out some way of finding that author, without her story, you’re stuck here, my friend.”
Harry struggled to remember, but there hadn’t been any clue as to just who exactly was disturbed enough to write such…
Hang on…
“There was a picture thing…”
“Huh?”
“On the envelope. It was sealed with a little square picture; a red square with a girl on it. And the word k8matty. Like Kate, but spelled with an eight instead of ‘ate’.”
The Impostor nodded. “It sounds like a fangirl to me. Harry, I think I know where we can find this Kate.”
“Where do we find her?”
“Where one finds every fangirl.”
The Impostor scooped up a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the Gryffindor fireplace.
“Special Hell!” he shouted.
Now, when Harry looked through the Floo and into Special Hell, he made a grave mistake, for the unholy immorality of Special Hell is not something one can just look at and not need a stiff drink afterwards. Looking into Special Hell is looking into perversion itself, and Harry knew that from this moment on, he would be a different man entirely. For this reason, the following descriptions of Special Hell are going to be replaced by a blank space for you to stare at in an effort to preserve your sanity.
Moving on...
“I’m looking for a fanfic author by the name of “k8matty,” The Impostor called. Moments later, a woman with long, curly hair stepped through the grate. Cradled in one arm was a black laptop covered in old stickers. The other was busy adjusting the shirt that she wrongly thought capable of covering her chest.
“Harry!” Kate squealed, beaming at the Impostor. “You just caught me writing a piece of Harpius I think you’ll like… how do you feel about corsets with kilts?”
“YOU!” Harry howled, launching himself at the obviously mad woman, held back only by his body double. “You bought me here to this… this… freak-show!”
“Oh…” Kate sneaked a guilty look at the Impostor. “Yeah, about that…”
The Impostor threw Kate a reproving eyebrow. “Kate, which story did you send Harry? We need to get him back to his world before Rowling notices he’s gone missing.”
Kate huffed and blew a curl away from her sulky face before whipping open her laptop and enlarging the offending document.
“ Harry obeyed, nearly falling arse over tail in his haste to spin around and fling himself over the nearest desk. That was it, right Harry?”
Harry nodded with an expression of disgust. “That’s it. Now throw the laptop in the fire!”
Kate snarled and hugged the MacBook to her chest as though it were her first-born son. “Hands off my preciousss!”
The Impostor sighed. “Kate, would you please print the story?”
One hour later, after Kate had gone home to print the story because her Precious stubbornly refused to print off any printer other than her own, Harry held the smut in his shaking hands and stood in front of the hearth.
“I guess… this is goodbye.” The Impostor clapped his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
Harry felt his eyes water as his likeness drew him into a hug. So familiar and yet so different, it was almost like having a brother.
“Fuck, that’s hot!” Kate chirped. Harry backed away, scowling and then stepped through the blazing fire.
~*~
When Harry emerged from the other side, he was greeted by hordes of friends, students and teachers - none of whom were fucking! - and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed, throwing herself into his arms. “Where were you? You’ve been gone ages, we were so worried!”
“Everyone went looking for you!” Ron explained, gesturing to the assorted people gathered, Gryffindors and other houses alike. Harry was touched by their compassion.
“Harry, what’s this?” Hermione snatched at the paper in Harry’s hands, reading the first paragraph before her eyes widened in horror.
“Holy HELL!” Hermione shrieked, dropping the paper and springing back from Harry as thought scalded. “I think I’m going to vomit!” she warned, charging through the crowd now furiously attempting to seize the paper for themselves.
“Oh my GOD.”
“What the fuck, Potter?”
“Out of my way, Creevy, I am a Professor and… Good Lord! Potter, what in the name of Salazar is this?”
Fuck.