Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Not Again!
Not Again!
Summary: Harry finds himself back in his cupboard at Privet Drive - again!
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of his friends are the property of J.K. Rowling.
I believe that 'Mary Sue' is in the public domain. At least that's where I found her.
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Chapter 1
"Oh fuck!" Harry Potter muttered once his eyes were fully open and he was more or less awake. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!
Yes, he was back in his cupboard at Privet Drive and it seemed that his repertoire of expletives was severely limited upon first waking up so early on a Saturday morning. Hopefully his vocabulary of vulgarities would diversify as his day progressed.
Damn those fan-fiction authors! Harry fumbled around amongst his meager possessions for a moment before giving up. At least you could have left me with my wand, you stupid fuck! he sent to whomever was dictating his fate this time.
Ten-year-old Harry Potter stared at the door latch, squinting his eyes in concentration. Nothing! Not even my magic laser vision, he thought in disgust, although if truth be told, he was always a little skeptical about that one. Red laser beams shooting out from emerald green eyes? Shouldn't they have been green laser beams? But then green laser beams can't cut through steel like red ones...
Oh for fuck's sake! Harry interrupted his own musings. So I'm back in my cupboard with no special powers. Not even my wand! I'll fix you, you ruddy bastard! he smirked at the author. I'm not coming out of my cupboard! We'll see how that suits your bloody story!
There was a rattling of the latch just then and the door opened. Uncle Vernon's face appeared.
"Out, boy! Now!"
"So much for that idea," Harry muttered to himself.
"What'd you say, boy?" Vernon threatened.
"Nothing," Harry winced, instinctively reaching an arm up to protect his head as he emerged from his cupboard.
Vernon's blow glanced lightly off Harry's forearm. His uncle had put no real effort into it.
At least I'm not likely to be used as a bloody punching bag this trip through Dursley-land, Harry sighed with relief. I wonder whom I'll be paired with this time? Ginny? Hermione? Luna can be fun, if done right, he considered. If Draco winks at me on the train platform, I swear I'll bloody kill him right then and there! he warned whomever had taken control of his life for this time around.
"There's someone here to see you," Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and shoved him toward the front door.
"This is different," Harry muttered.
There in the foyer stood a girl of maybe ten or eleven. She sported short, messy, black hair and largish round eyes. Harry didn't recognize her. OC's - original characters - can be fun, he thought. Or maybe not! he reconsidered when he noticed the short-sword hanging from her hip. A whip was coiled and hanging loosely around the sword's hilt. The girl was dressed in a tight black leather top and matching short-shorts. Harry's eyes continued downward to her thigh-high black boots.
"Hello, Harry!" the girl smiled at him. "I'm..."
"I'm gay!" Harry shouted and ran back to the safety of his cupboard, pulling the door shut behind him. There was no way he'd do another one of those Fifty Shades of Grey crossovers!
Seconds later there was a clang of metal-on-metal and the cupboard's latch was shorn from the door.
"Hello, Harry..." the girl repeated, her short-sword prying the cupboard door open.
"Now you look here, young lady!" Uncle Vernon thundered from just behind her.
That was as far as he got. The girl's left hand already held her whip, having removed it from the sword's hilt before she drew it, and in an instant the whip's business end had wrapped itself twice around Vernon's pudgy neck and was pulling his head down to say hello to the business end of the sword, which stopped its forward progress just inside the vestibule of Vernon's left nostril.
"I'm looking, but I'm not liking what I'm seeing," the girl replied as she studied Vernon's face - and the little bulge in his left nostril where the tip of the sword pushed it out slightly. "You're fat, you're ugly, and your nose is deformed. Now that we know all the important details about you, let's talk about me, shall we?"
Harry peeked out from his cupboard, tentatively taking in the scene in the hallway. His uncle's eyes alternately crossed and uncrossed as they focused on the end of the sword and then on the girl's face.
"Who are you?" Harry ventured.
"Ah! Now there's an important question about me!" the girl smiled over at him. "That's the idea!" she nodded encouragement.
"You haven't said..." Harry started, but then corrected himself when her smile began to falter. "Um, what's your name?"
"Mary Sue! Pleasure to make your acquaintance! Keep going!"
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"At the moment I'm debating whether or not to kill your uncle. I'd ask you for your input, but you don't have a very solid track record for making sound decisions. Ask me about the sword."
"Er... what about the sword?" Harry replied lamely.
"Oh for fuck's sake! You can do better than that!"
"Um, that's a really cool sword!" Harry recovered quickly. "Is there anything special about it?"
"Why yes, Harry, there is!" Mary Sue grinned but said nothing more.
"What is it, then?" Harry prompted.
"Well, Harry," Mary Sue replied as if she were hamming up her lines in a school play, "It's made of mithril, a magical alloy and the only metal that can be fashioned into a wand, which I've had done, by the way. Its wand-core is a Fwooper feather which makes it sing when I wield it."
"I didn't hear any singing," Harry pointed out, but then immediately wished he'd not mentioned it.
"It's been acting a little peculiar, lately," Mary Sue allowed. "I'd take it in for a tune-up but I'm a bit strapped for cash this month."
"Er..." Vernon made a sound which he hoped would be received as non-threatening and which didn't require him to move his facial muscles in any way.
"Shut up, fat-so!" Mary Sue turned to him. "You might well be dead by the end of this chapter!"
"You can have my wallet if you promise to leave," Vernon tried again, although his words were quite unintelligible because he couldn't move his upper lip and he was trying very hard to not move the lower one, either.
"Fwoop!" the girl gave the sword a tiny jab forward. "I warned you!" she scolded as she released her victim and unwrapped the whip from around his neck.
Vernon's eyes had glassed over and he collapsed to a sitting position in the middle of the hallway. His face now held a blissful smile, as if he'd just received a million-pound order for a large batch of high-precision drills. It was the same blank smile seen on a daily basis in Muggle psychiatric wards all across Great Britain.
"Er, what did you do to him?" Harry asked warily.
"I fwooped him!" Mary Sue smiled and gave Harry a self-satisfied nod of her head.
"MUM!!!" came a cry from the front stairs as Dudley's heavy footsteps thudded up them. "MUM!!!"
"Yes, Dudders?" Aunt Petunia's lilting voice called from somewhere up on the second floor.
"Someone's just killed Dad!!"
Aunt Petunia's face peered out over the railing a moment later. "Vernon!?" she called as she rushed the rest of the way down and hurried to kneel in front of her husband. "Vernon!?" Aunt Petunia looked up at Mary Sue and then over at Harry. "What did you do to him, boy!?" she demanded, although Harry was not the one currently holding a whip and a sword.
"Uncle Vernon's been fwooped," Harry declared neutrally, neither taking credit nor assigning blame for his uncle's condition.
"I think it's an improvement!" Mary Sue studied her handiwork. "Did you know that it takes only seventeen muscles to smile and forty-three muscles to frown?"
"Yes, well, Uncle Vernon prefers the exercise," Harry offered. "It keeps him fit," he added, hoping to appease his aunt, who was recovering her wits and once again summoning her inner bitch.
"Who are you and what have you done to my husband?" Petunia rose to her full height and turned her ire on Mary Sue, who seemed to take offense at the woman's tone.
"I'm here to kidnap your nephew," the Girl-in-Black replied evenly.
"What about Vernon?" Petunia persisted.
"Nope - sorry! I'm only kidnapping Harry. Vernon's all yours."
"What did you do to him?" Petunia repeated.
"I fwooped him," Mary Sue shrugged. "At least I think I did. As I was explaining to your nephew Harry, here, the sword's been acting a little flakey lately and I can't afford to get it repaired. Although..."
Mary Sue glanced around the immaculate home which had been remodeled recently and was very expensively furnished. She nodded to herself. "You folks seem rich... and I'm currently poor," she stated. "Let's remedy that, shall we? Hand over lard-o's wallet!" she demanded, menacing with her sword in Aunt Petunia's direction.
"Just the cash," the girl shook her head when Petunia held out the wallet. "That thing's been parked next to lard-o's arse for far too long! It's been permeated with years of lard-o butt-sweat! I'm not touching it!"
Grudgingly, Harry's aunt extracted a thick wad of fifty-pound notes and handed them over.
"Oo-oo! Fifties!" Mary Sue eyed the money greedily. "You get to live!" she informed Petunia. "C'mon, Harry," the girl motioned him toward the front door.
"Er..."
"Oh, that's right! I'm kidnapping you! Right then, you! Let's go!" she prodded Harry with her sword and marched him outside.
"Where are we going?" Harry wondered, walking at a brisk pace to avoid any further poking.
In answer, Mary Sue stepped to the curb and held out her sword. With a loud BANG! that likely had all of Privet Drive scurrying to look out their front windows, the Knight Bus pulled up.
"Right! In you go!" she gave her 'captive' a final nudge with her sword.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Summary: Harry finds himself back in his cupboard at Privet Drive - again!
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of his friends are the property of J.K. Rowling.
I believe that 'Mary Sue' is in the public domain. At least that's where I found her.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Chapter 1
"Oh fuck!" Harry Potter muttered once his eyes were fully open and he was more or less awake. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!
Yes, he was back in his cupboard at Privet Drive and it seemed that his repertoire of expletives was severely limited upon first waking up so early on a Saturday morning. Hopefully his vocabulary of vulgarities would diversify as his day progressed.
Damn those fan-fiction authors! Harry fumbled around amongst his meager possessions for a moment before giving up. At least you could have left me with my wand, you stupid fuck! he sent to whomever was dictating his fate this time.
Ten-year-old Harry Potter stared at the door latch, squinting his eyes in concentration. Nothing! Not even my magic laser vision, he thought in disgust, although if truth be told, he was always a little skeptical about that one. Red laser beams shooting out from emerald green eyes? Shouldn't they have been green laser beams? But then green laser beams can't cut through steel like red ones...
Oh for fuck's sake! Harry interrupted his own musings. So I'm back in my cupboard with no special powers. Not even my wand! I'll fix you, you ruddy bastard! he smirked at the author. I'm not coming out of my cupboard! We'll see how that suits your bloody story!
There was a rattling of the latch just then and the door opened. Uncle Vernon's face appeared.
"Out, boy! Now!"
"So much for that idea," Harry muttered to himself.
"What'd you say, boy?" Vernon threatened.
"Nothing," Harry winced, instinctively reaching an arm up to protect his head as he emerged from his cupboard.
Vernon's blow glanced lightly off Harry's forearm. His uncle had put no real effort into it.
At least I'm not likely to be used as a bloody punching bag this trip through Dursley-land, Harry sighed with relief. I wonder whom I'll be paired with this time? Ginny? Hermione? Luna can be fun, if done right, he considered. If Draco winks at me on the train platform, I swear I'll bloody kill him right then and there! he warned whomever had taken control of his life for this time around.
"There's someone here to see you," Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and shoved him toward the front door.
"This is different," Harry muttered.
There in the foyer stood a girl of maybe ten or eleven. She sported short, messy, black hair and largish round eyes. Harry didn't recognize her. OC's - original characters - can be fun, he thought. Or maybe not! he reconsidered when he noticed the short-sword hanging from her hip. A whip was coiled and hanging loosely around the sword's hilt. The girl was dressed in a tight black leather top and matching short-shorts. Harry's eyes continued downward to her thigh-high black boots.
"Hello, Harry!" the girl smiled at him. "I'm..."
"I'm gay!" Harry shouted and ran back to the safety of his cupboard, pulling the door shut behind him. There was no way he'd do another one of those Fifty Shades of Grey crossovers!
Seconds later there was a clang of metal-on-metal and the cupboard's latch was shorn from the door.
"Hello, Harry..." the girl repeated, her short-sword prying the cupboard door open.
"Now you look here, young lady!" Uncle Vernon thundered from just behind her.
That was as far as he got. The girl's left hand already held her whip, having removed it from the sword's hilt before she drew it, and in an instant the whip's business end had wrapped itself twice around Vernon's pudgy neck and was pulling his head down to say hello to the business end of the sword, which stopped its forward progress just inside the vestibule of Vernon's left nostril.
"I'm looking, but I'm not liking what I'm seeing," the girl replied as she studied Vernon's face - and the little bulge in his left nostril where the tip of the sword pushed it out slightly. "You're fat, you're ugly, and your nose is deformed. Now that we know all the important details about you, let's talk about me, shall we?"
Harry peeked out from his cupboard, tentatively taking in the scene in the hallway. His uncle's eyes alternately crossed and uncrossed as they focused on the end of the sword and then on the girl's face.
"Who are you?" Harry ventured.
"Ah! Now there's an important question about me!" the girl smiled over at him. "That's the idea!" she nodded encouragement.
"You haven't said..." Harry started, but then corrected himself when her smile began to falter. "Um, what's your name?"
"Mary Sue! Pleasure to make your acquaintance! Keep going!"
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"At the moment I'm debating whether or not to kill your uncle. I'd ask you for your input, but you don't have a very solid track record for making sound decisions. Ask me about the sword."
"Er... what about the sword?" Harry replied lamely.
"Oh for fuck's sake! You can do better than that!"
"Um, that's a really cool sword!" Harry recovered quickly. "Is there anything special about it?"
"Why yes, Harry, there is!" Mary Sue grinned but said nothing more.
"What is it, then?" Harry prompted.
"Well, Harry," Mary Sue replied as if she were hamming up her lines in a school play, "It's made of mithril, a magical alloy and the only metal that can be fashioned into a wand, which I've had done, by the way. Its wand-core is a Fwooper feather which makes it sing when I wield it."
"I didn't hear any singing," Harry pointed out, but then immediately wished he'd not mentioned it.
"It's been acting a little peculiar, lately," Mary Sue allowed. "I'd take it in for a tune-up but I'm a bit strapped for cash this month."
"Er..." Vernon made a sound which he hoped would be received as non-threatening and which didn't require him to move his facial muscles in any way.
"Shut up, fat-so!" Mary Sue turned to him. "You might well be dead by the end of this chapter!"
"You can have my wallet if you promise to leave," Vernon tried again, although his words were quite unintelligible because he couldn't move his upper lip and he was trying very hard to not move the lower one, either.
"Fwoop!" the girl gave the sword a tiny jab forward. "I warned you!" she scolded as she released her victim and unwrapped the whip from around his neck.
Vernon's eyes had glassed over and he collapsed to a sitting position in the middle of the hallway. His face now held a blissful smile, as if he'd just received a million-pound order for a large batch of high-precision drills. It was the same blank smile seen on a daily basis in Muggle psychiatric wards all across Great Britain.
"Er, what did you do to him?" Harry asked warily.
"I fwooped him!" Mary Sue smiled and gave Harry a self-satisfied nod of her head.
"MUM!!!" came a cry from the front stairs as Dudley's heavy footsteps thudded up them. "MUM!!!"
"Yes, Dudders?" Aunt Petunia's lilting voice called from somewhere up on the second floor.
"Someone's just killed Dad!!"
Aunt Petunia's face peered out over the railing a moment later. "Vernon!?" she called as she rushed the rest of the way down and hurried to kneel in front of her husband. "Vernon!?" Aunt Petunia looked up at Mary Sue and then over at Harry. "What did you do to him, boy!?" she demanded, although Harry was not the one currently holding a whip and a sword.
"Uncle Vernon's been fwooped," Harry declared neutrally, neither taking credit nor assigning blame for his uncle's condition.
"I think it's an improvement!" Mary Sue studied her handiwork. "Did you know that it takes only seventeen muscles to smile and forty-three muscles to frown?"
"Yes, well, Uncle Vernon prefers the exercise," Harry offered. "It keeps him fit," he added, hoping to appease his aunt, who was recovering her wits and once again summoning her inner bitch.
"Who are you and what have you done to my husband?" Petunia rose to her full height and turned her ire on Mary Sue, who seemed to take offense at the woman's tone.
"I'm here to kidnap your nephew," the Girl-in-Black replied evenly.
"What about Vernon?" Petunia persisted.
"Nope - sorry! I'm only kidnapping Harry. Vernon's all yours."
"What did you do to him?" Petunia repeated.
"I fwooped him," Mary Sue shrugged. "At least I think I did. As I was explaining to your nephew Harry, here, the sword's been acting a little flakey lately and I can't afford to get it repaired. Although..."
Mary Sue glanced around the immaculate home which had been remodeled recently and was very expensively furnished. She nodded to herself. "You folks seem rich... and I'm currently poor," she stated. "Let's remedy that, shall we? Hand over lard-o's wallet!" she demanded, menacing with her sword in Aunt Petunia's direction.
"Just the cash," the girl shook her head when Petunia held out the wallet. "That thing's been parked next to lard-o's arse for far too long! It's been permeated with years of lard-o butt-sweat! I'm not touching it!"
Grudgingly, Harry's aunt extracted a thick wad of fifty-pound notes and handed them over.
"Oo-oo! Fifties!" Mary Sue eyed the money greedily. "You get to live!" she informed Petunia. "C'mon, Harry," the girl motioned him toward the front door.
"Er..."
"Oh, that's right! I'm kidnapping you! Right then, you! Let's go!" she prodded Harry with her sword and marched him outside.
"Where are we going?" Harry wondered, walking at a brisk pace to avoid any further poking.
In answer, Mary Sue stepped to the curb and held out her sword. With a loud BANG! that likely had all of Privet Drive scurrying to look out their front windows, the Knight Bus pulled up.
"Right! In you go!" she gave her 'captive' a final nudge with her sword.
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