Fandom: Harry Potter
A Link To The Story: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2867809/1/
Age Rating: M for coarse language and horror themes
Summary: It was an idea I got after reading so many self-insertion stories in which the writter would create an avatar of themselves to exist in the alternative universe. But rather than being realistic about it, they would instead grant themselves awesome powers and popularity in the other universe and disrupt/unbalance the fan-world in which they were narrating. It always annoyed me, so I wrote my own 'self-insertion' fan-fic. But instead of a character that was perfect/fantastic/loved by all, my avatar was a close resembance to myself (but not too close, of course!) with all the imperfections included.
The main character in this story doesn't get to meet the main heros in Harry Potter; really, there's no possible way you could! I'm going by the logic that anyone going from our universe into theirs would remain as muggle-like as they are here. Which means no enrolment into Hogwarts, no going on the Hogwarts Express and no meeting Harry and his pals.
Explanation: I haven't had any reveiws on the site where it's posted, so I've no idea if the lack of reviews is because the story is boring or just unread. I'm interested in knowing how well the story flows (or doesn't) and whether or not it keeps the attention of the reader.
This is a piece from the first chapter, a few paragraphs in...
There was another flash of light among the screaming and my intuition pulled urgently at my consciousness from the depths of my mind. If I hadn’t been sore, cold and confused I probably would have heeded it. But in my bafflement I made the incredibly stupid mistake of moving closer towards the source of the light and screams, all the while crouching low in the shadows.
As I neared the mouth of the alleyway there was a loud boom and a rumble along the ground under my feet and smoke bellowed out from around the corner of the building when I stood, flooding into the alleyway and surrounding me. I coughed violently, my lungs tightening as my asthma kicked in, and scrambled backwards to get away from the smoke. Blinded now, and keeping my head low, I clung to the side of the alley wall as I moved further away from the city street into the shadows. My eyes stung and ran with tears and my sinuses burned from the acrid, chemical smell all around me. I slumped down onto the cold, concrete floor and tried to suck clean air into my lungs. I coughed and wheezed, my airway feeling tight in my chest and my vision blurring.
Then I heard movement in front of me. The steady sounds of footsteps under the cacophony of panicked yells and terrified wailing; and now the distant booms of explosions. The air around me cleared suddenly, as though the smoke had been blasted away by a sudden strong wind. And walking calmly down the alleyway, with what I first assumed was a torch in one hand, was a hooded figure.
Light shone directly into my face, blinding me and leaving bright spots in front of my eyes when it was finally moved away. Over the sound of my own wheezing I heard the figure chuckle to itself.
“What have we here?” asked an irritatingly teasing and thoroughly masculine voice. “What are you doing in here, little muggle? Why aren’t you out there, having fun with the rest of the muggles?”
I heard him moving closer and tried to stand up on my trembling legs, but found I couldn’t. I cursed my asthma is the privacy of my own head. The man was clearly insane! Muggles? What the hell! Maybe he was some sort of demented lunatic who was in some sort of Harry Potter cult? That explained the explosions; the son-of-a-bitch probably thought he was a freakin’ Deatheater, or some such nonsense. He and his group must have set something up, planted bombs and fireworks about the place to make themselves feel as though they were really in the Hogwarts’ Universe, while they marched around pretending to be dark-wizards. The mere idea set my teeth on edge. Stupid arseholes! Stupid fad-Nazis ruined everything! I could just see JK Rowlings getting the blame for this bastard’s actions, just like so many musicians and moviemakers copped the blame for any shit-head who went out and brutally murdered people and dedicated the killings to a song or movie.
“F’k off.” I wheezed. He was probably going to kill me, but he wasn’t going to hear me beg first!
I heard him laughing and then suddenly I was in agony. Every nerve in my body was engulfed with pain. My skin felt like it was being paper-cut across every tiny inch of it, while at the same time being stabbed repetitively with needles. I could barely breathe; my lungs were seising-up like I had been winded, while the waves of excruciating agony hit me again and again. My back was against the cold concrete now, the muscles in my body contracting and squeezing involuntarily; the corse surface underneath me raking across any exposed skin as I spasm and twitched. And all I could think amidst the pain was: Tazer! He’s hit me with a fucking tazer! That cowardly shit!