I lay in the semi-dark, unsure of what had happened. I'd fallen asleep in my own bed, well. . . the bed that I used ten months out of the year and might as well be mine by now. And now I was lying in what smelled very much like a vile alley. The worst possible images leapt to my mind. Had I been abducted?

I sucked in a deep breath - regretted it instantly, I could taste the vile stenches in the air - and it made me cough violently. I sat up, and the nearby people (in robes? what city was this? Had I somehow gone to a comic-con and forgotten about it?) gasped and scattered.

Huh. I usually don't have that effect on people. I'm friendly, a bit on the very sarcastic side, but not intimidating. I guess I'm a little on the tall side for a woman, but nothing extreme. And —

I was definitely not me. I know I should have laid off the desserts, but decades of habit is hard to break and they're so good. But I wasn't my normal, somewhat-flabby self. I was. . . young and thin and strong. And definitely not in any city I recognized. There was no skyline, for one thing, and the more I looked the more I decided it must be a movie set.

I've never aspired to be an actor, too much work. So where was I? And what had happened to me?

"She's alive?" a voice whispered, sounding terrified.

"Inferius," someone answered back, equally hushed.

"Are we LARPing now?" I asked, getting unsteadily to my feet. "Did I join a LARP group and lose weight without remembering it?"

My voice wasn't mine. It was higher, hoarser. Thin, not deep.

I was beginning to get seriously freaked out.

"Mad witch," someone else whispered. I couldn't avoid noticing that the alley was much emptier now. Only a few people remained, tensed as though ready to flee at any moment.

"Where am I?" I demanded, trying to sound firm, then coughed. That taste in the air was horrifying, and pervasive.

"Knockturne Alley," said an elderly man's voice, only slightly tremulously. "And you are?"

"Revan," I blurted out. I had been working on my KotOR fic the night before, and I certainly wasn't going to give my real name in a strange situation like this. I lowered my voice and gave an evil chuckle. (You'd be surprised how much practice I have at that. Cough, writer, cough.)

"I am Lord Revan. Or, Lady I suppose."

"Lady Raven," someone said in a choked voice, and the three remaining bystanders fled.

"Sure," I said to the empty alley. "Less copyright infringement this way. Lady Raven."

I saw a sign for Bourgin and Burkes' and immediately the words 'Knockturne Alley' fit into their proper context. Harry Potter. I was either in the most elaborate set-up of all time or— oh, goodness. I was in one of those lame self-insert fics?!

No. No, no never, no. I refuse. I won't co-operate, I'm not that kind of person. I'm a serious writer!

I stomped my foot, coughed again on the vile stench of the air, and quickly pushed open the door to the shop. Maybe it would be remotely cleaner in there, and I could think this through properly.

"You're alive?" a grouchy-looking old man said. "Eh, colour me surprised." He didn't sound surprised.

"I'm. . .here. . ." I began, then trailed off, not sure what I was trying to get at. Fortunately he didn't seem to care.

"I see that."

I reached for my money pouch and found it empty. "I guess I don't have any money."

"Of course not. You were lying dead in an alley for the past several hours. Did you really expect to come back with your possessions intact?"

"I'm a dead person now?" I asked, more to myself than the shopkeeper.

"Who did you think you were?"

"Raven. . . Star," I said with only a moment's hesitation. "Lady Raven Star, Heir of Slytherin."

I didn't know what prompted me to add the last. Most self-inserts had ridiculous powers, right? I didn't actually read that kind of story generally, so I couldn't be sure. But I had to be an overpowered Mary-Sue of some description, surely. Why bother else?

I'd half expected the shopkeeper to laugh uproariously, but instead he just grunted.

"Could be. You'll be hard put to defend that claim. There are two heirs already up at Hogwarts, I hear."

"Harry and Voldemort, you mean?" I asked.

"Voldemort wasn't the Heir," the shopkeeper said, somehow conveying irritation without changing his bland inflection. "The heir was some Tom kid who died in the Muggle uprising."

Okay, that did not sound like the Harry Potter universe I knew.

"No," the shopkeeper continued, "the heirs are the Augurey and her husband."

Augurey. So. . . was this the alternate-universe where Voldemort won?

"So, is Voldemort in command?" I asked tentatively.

"Voldemort died years ago." He squinted at me. "You've been in that horcrux a little too long 'Lady Raven Star'."

"I— I. . ." I didn't know how to reply to that, and stopped trying.

The shopkeeper sighed, the first actual emotion he'd exhibited since my arrival. "You need information, fine. Just two conditions: don't tell anyone I helped you, and don't hurt anyone with my mark."

"Your mark?" I asked, beginning to feel ill. "What mark is that?"

"My family mark," he said, showing the back of his left hand. A squiggly circle with some asymmetric bumps on it, and a runic pattern I couldn't hope to translate inside it.

"Alright," I said, not intending to hurt anyone now or in the future. "Tell me everything that happened since 1980."

"Everything? That's a long, long list Lady Raven."

"Highlights, then. And. . . what year is it?"

"Twenty-seventeen."

That didn't fit, then. In twenty-seventeen, Albus and Scorpius wouldn't even have started school yet, and in the alternate-universe it had been their. . . Fourth year? and Voldemort had been alive and well.

"August. . . six, seven?" I asked.

He nodded. "Seven."

"Same date as back home," I mused. "So what happened to me?"

"You dueled the wrong wizard," he replied.

"No, I was just talking to myself. Please, just tell me what's been happening the past thirty-seven years."

And he began to explain.

Author's Note:

Have I lost my mind? Probably. Do I need another fanfiction project? Absolutely not. Do I care? Eh, not much.

I've heard about 'author avatar' stories, generally in relation to the term 'Mary Sue' but never actually heard of a Self-Insert (or not in the way I'm using it here) until I started reading the interesting Naruto-fic Dreaming of Sunshine. Which made me immediately want to make friendly mockery of the Harry Potter fandom and its inexplicable tropes.

So, look at me, being ridiculous.

Good news for those of you who care about my other stories: this is the only part of this I've written and I don't particularly plan on continuing it soon. I guess that's bad news if you just found this and think it's great, but I find myself doubting that outcome. If there's a particularly strong positive reaction, I suppose I might shift its priorities up a bit, but I have no particular plans for this going anywhere fast. It is as much a side-side-side project as a side-side project can be.

However, good news for any of you who actually like this silly thing, I may have inadvertently created a whole alternate universe around it, so while its updates won't be frequent they will exist. I expect the next chapter will be somewhere around mid-October, but life or other writing could interfere so don't hold me to that. Likewise, if I am struck with inspiration or something, it may come much sooner.

Thanks for reading!