Harry Potter and the Fan-Fiction Writer [OneShot]

Through the eyes of an Outsider: Wizards

"Anonarra!"

There was no surname. As a "first year" in Hogwarts, I imagine that I should be awed by the architecture, and nervous of the attention directed to me. However, I had also imagined a larger, grander place for the Great Hall. This place seemed a bit more narrow and dark than I imagined. Imagine that?

I walked forward at my own pace, not minding at all the fact that McGonagall was obvious in her impatience. I plopped down on the seat that I'm sure hadn't been cleaned much other than by magic, and grabbed the hat before it was placed on my head.

"Young lady..." she reprimanded me in a warning tone. I scowled at her and continued checking the hat, with its old musty smell and worn fabrics. I was fully aware of McGonagall's disapproving stare burning into the side of my head, joined by the mutters of other students from the different houses likely caused by the oddness that was my, quote, "name" quote. The head of Gryffindor disliked my usage of an alias (it couldn't possibly be anything but) greatly, but I didn't care much for that, concerned with one thing, as I felt the hat get uncomfortable. I finally voiced the topic of my stubbornness.

"Has Rags ever been washed?"

I assume the silence that ensued was from the surprise. Surprise from what, I wonder? My question? My actions? Or the name I named the hat? Who knew when it came to these people Honestly, wizards.

"Because I'd really rather not catch lice or whatever magical equivalent you guys have."

"Young lady," McGonagall said tensely. "Please just put on the hat to be sorted." I sighed and narrowed my eyes at her.

"One: you refuse to call me by name, McGonagall. There is no respect in that. Two: Swear that there's a cleansing charm of some sort before I put Rags on my precious hair."

I know I'm making a scene. I'm being a brat, and it's so fun!

I mean, I haven't even known the woman for all of five minutes and I've triggered her. I sighed and put on the hat.

'Yo.' I immediately thought to it. I hummed a few songs (totally not haunted-sounding as they echoed in the silence of the Great Hall...) audibly as I felt it rummage through my head.

'An outsider. Of this world, and we are mere characters to you? You see our world as a form of entertainment?' I laughed, and the crowds stared. I ignored them in favor of conversing with Rags.

'I see forms of entertainment as a world,' I countered. 'and the only way a brat like me can connect to any of these worlds are through my own imagination put to words.'

And then I allowed him access to my deepest most thoughts, knowing my secrets would be safe. Let him know who I was, because he won't tell. I greatly wanted to be in Gryffindor though, and I made those thoughts echo in my mind again and again.

'Send me to the lion's den.' I muttered quietly. 'Or else you really will become rags.'

"SLYTHERIN!"

I frowned as I tore the hat off and listed off all the profanities I shouldn't be aware of in my head. As my final act of rebellion, I simply smiled far too politely at Rags and walked off to Gryffindor despite the sorting.

"SLITHERIN!!" Rags repeated, indignant. Unresponsive to the hat's and teacher's callings, I plopped down with the Golden Trio.

"Heya Potter, Granger, Weasley!" I cocked my head innocently. "I guess I'll be with you guys from now on!"

No one knew what words to say. Perfect. I have no complaints for the shocked silence and turned over my shoulder at the Deputy Headmistress. "What's wrong, Professor McGonagall?" I asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

The silence became more profound.

"Oh! The looks on your faces! Purrfect!" I smiled, clapping. "I didn't even know Snape had the necessary muscles in his expression to do anything other than brood and scowl!"

The man narrowed his eyes.

"What? Do my words send a slither up your spine? I wasn't lion when I said that, was I? Was I, Potter?" I asked the boy in question, an expectant look on my face.

"Don't worry, though. I'm sure Gryffindor could Huff and Puff and blow ol' Slytherin down! Right, Professor Lupin?" The tired teacher seemed to flinch ever so slightly. "But for all their might, perhaps the Raven's Claws are just as sharp as their brains, and outdo both!" I let the silence drag on to the point where everything became uncomfortable for all else but me and perhaps Dumbledore and the twins. Speaking of Fred and George...

"Is she serious?" Fred muttered, stifling his laughter. I grinned as George followed suit.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not Sirius." I smiled, winking up at the professor's table. "I call myself Anonarra! Ooh, bacon." I munched on the breakfast food before returning to the twins. "Pleasure to meat you two. I don't know munch about pranks, but I'd absolutely LOVE to learn from you two, you know, since the Marauders are currently unavailable."

I suppose I can't help myself when I spotted a fruity beverage on their table. I picked it up and gulped down half.

"Oh man, orange you glad I'm here to make things much more flavorful? It's so quiet! I do believe this place is less cherry than I imagined."

The twins were outright laughing right now, and chuckles were heard all across the Great Hall.

"Oh, how awesome!" I smirked, my brain replacing words a mile a minute. "It's always nice to see your efforts bear fruit. Meloncholy doesn't suit this atmosphere, after all."

"The pear of you are such sweet men!" The twins were wheezing now, and I began to worry for their well-being.

"I'll bring you two to the infirmary, so Ms. Poppy can pop her lid fussing over the two of you hotheads." I smiled, referring to their red hair.

I left the Hall with the two of them grinning.

"Maybe I overdid it." I said to myself proudly, dragging the Weasley twins to...

Where was the infirmary again?

Oh right. First year. I dunno where that is. Taking out a pen and paper, I began writing.

"Anonarra, lost in the halls of Hogwarts, finds the infirmary within three minutes of walking, guiding the exhausted Weasleys with her."

Nodding to myself, I placed the pen and paper away and grabbed the twins by their shoulders. They were able to speak coherent words now, impressive come back from their hysteria.

"Hey," George began.

"Why's you have a pen and paper?"

"The infirmary's—"

"—that-a-way, you know." Fred finished.

I shook my head. "I know where the infirmary will be. Just give me about three minutes." They seemed skeptical, but shrugged in sync.

"But what about—"

"—the paper and pen?"

"Ah, those helped find my way to the infirmary." I explained. "But I won't tell you why just yet! It would be tearable to reveal my secrets so early on. You'll have to pen that idea away for now."

Three minutes were up, and The boys were surprised to find themselves exactly where they couldn't have been at, since they'd taken all the wrong turns.

"Huh." The both said at once.