Now, let's get two things straight.
Or rather, several things straight.
First off, you are a glamorously attractive and talented witch, born and raised in America. 'Why America?' a particularly rebellious person may ask. My response is — don't question the damn omnipotent voice! Anyway, you have long, blonde and slightly wavy hair that falls just a few inches past your shoulders. Your stunningly blue eyes unnerve most at first, but many would admit them to be beautiful. Your figure — that of a model's — grabs the attention of many males. Why am I telling this to you? Well, simply because now you know why you had been screaming your head off when you had looked into the mirror in the morning.
Allow me to start from the beginning... This all started on a fine summer day, a week before school began...
You woke up groggily, your mind clouded with sleep and your senses not yet sharp. The only thing that truly registered on your mind was sound of your back cracking as you forced yourself to sit up. Normally, you would've carried on sleeping, but the annoyingly radiant streaks of sunlight penetrating your curtains had told you that it was probably already midday.
Flinging the covers to the side in the process, you stood up and literally jump out of bed. The sound of your feet making contact with the ground helps in the process of putting you out of your sleepy state.
It didn't take long before you were in the washroom, squinting at your own reflection. Normally, you would've immediately set about brushing your teeth (you were a bit of a clean freak), but instead, you were staring with an expression of disbelief at the mirror. The sight of flawless, sun kissed (you found that word weird — 'sun kissed'?) skin and golden hair had told you that it wasn't you in that mirror... However, when you touched your own cheek, the alien girl in the mirror had done the same.
You ran a hand through your hair. She did the same.
You made a stupid face that was reminiscent of Dudley Dursley. She did the same.
It was then that realization finally dawned on you and you screamed — I mean, you weren't actually some gorgeous model with a perfect figure and no bad hair days (you secretly and occasionally wished that you could be that, but didn't every girl?). In fact, you had also noticed that you weren't even in your own washroom! You jumped when a voice emitted from the mirror, telling you to shut up.
Two seconds later, reality shattered into pink, Shikon jewel shards!
Of course, another two seconds later, reality pieced itself back together again, thus becoming whole (was this supposed to be symbolic with some profound, deep meaning? Nobody knows, honestly, not even the omnipotent voice). Although, this was completely irrelevant to the story seeing as how the story is anything but realistic. Oh well, continuing on...
You heard the pounding of footsteps and the door to the washroom flew open. You looked at the person standing at the doorway and nearly fainted with shock. "Mary Sue! Are you okay?" George Weasley asked you from the door of the washroom. "You aren't hurt, are you?" Instead of screaming at the fact that a guy just barged in on you in the washroom, and that said guy just so happened to be George Weasley, you got angry.
"Mary Sue? Who are you calling Mary Sue?" you practically screamed in his ear. He winced from the loud tone, and you wished that you had been inserted into an anime world instead so that you could've whacked him over the head with a hammer. "I ain't some kind of blonde, prissy, damsel-in-distress retard!" Indeed, you were truly offended that somebody referred to you as a Mary sue... Personally, I don't really blame you either.
George, however, only chose to blink. "What? That's your name, remember? Or have you finally gone mad?"
You stared at him in utter disbelief - since when was your name Mary Sue? Wasn't your name Your Full Name?
It was then that George's other half barged in, making you scream. "What's happened? What're you two screaming about? George didn't do anything stupid, did he?" George gave his brother an irate look, but you knew that it was all in good humour - even in your nearly-insane state, you were still perceptive enough to be able to tell that.
"No, stupid," George replied, "Mary here apparently doesn't remember who she is."
"Well, George," Fred said in an almost-serious tone, "she had quite the accident, yesterday, remember?" They exchanged a dark glance and gave you a meaningful look, their absolutely gorgeous eyes ('Ew, did I just call two pairs of eyes gorgeous?' you thought in disgust) full of mixed emotions as they stared at you. Blinking owlishly, you waved a hand in front of their faces. "Yes, Mary?"
"I thought my name was Your Full Name," you stated bluntly. They exchanged another one of those meaningful and profound glances — don't ask me how a glance can be profound, the omnipotent voice is not quite sure — and Fred walked over and put an arm around you. "Yes?"
"Do you know who we are? And do you know where you are?"
You shook your head. Of course, you knew that they were Fred and George Weasley, but just to play it safe... "No, I'm not quite sure who you are and where I am." It was then that George walked over to your other side and put his arm around you.
"You're in the Burrow, with the Weasley Family! Oh, and some of Ron's friends... I'm George and he's Fred, remember?" Still not throwing caution to the winds, you shook your head and gave them a suspicious look. "Tell me at least you remember who you are!"
"... I'm Your Full Name."
An exchange of exasperated glances took place and Fred explained, "No you're not. You're obviously Mary Sue Delacour. You recently came here to live with us because you are transferring from Beaverteeth Academy in America to Hogwarts." You gave them blank looks and started laughing like there was no tomorrow. The two of them backed away as you continued to laugh, accidentally knocking over a bottle of acid green shampoo and making a mental note to never use any of the shampoo here.
"And let me guess — Harry is secretly an animagus and he can turn into a phoenix!"
"... Errr, no, it's actually a unicorn. You see, a unicorn symbolizes purity and—"
"Is this some kind of prank or a twisted fic written by a six year old girl?" you asked bluntly, figuring out that George was actually being serious on the unicorn thing.  The both of them shrugged and said something inaudible to each other before dragging you out of the washroom.
"Mum!" the two of them yelled at the same time, "Mary's lost her memory!"
A shriek emitted from downstairs and the twins carried you down to where a plump, redheaded woman (Molly Weasley, of course) was standing, looking at you in horror. "Mary Sue! Are you alright?" You blinked owlishly. "Have you honestly lost your memory?!"
It seemed that this was no prank, and that you were actually stuck in some twisted version of your own universe. Fred and George were very good actors, but Molly was a no-nonsense woman, and would never humour any of their absurd jokes. Thus, you decided it was time that you began playing along. Feinting slight pain, you held your head and looked at the ground. "Hold it," you whispered, your acting talents kicking in, "I think... I think I'm starting to remember some stuff."
"Oh, thank goodness," Mrs. Weasley breathed. "Just to be sure - who was the headmaster of Beaverteeth?"
You stopped breathing in panic momentarily, and then calmed down a bit... Now, let's see... Taking a wild guess, you stole one of your friend's names and said, "...The Headmaster was named... Riku?" You had no idea why you were guessing him of all people — maybe it had something to do with your twisted logic — but all you could do now was hope that by some strange twist of fate, the Headmaster's name was Riku.
"Oh good, you're fine, then," sighed Molly in relief.
'Well, that was funny. If not, then slightly disturbing," you thought drily as you looked blankly at the floor.
The twins grinned at you and you gave them a questioning look. They pointed back at the entrance to the kitchen and you turned 'round, only for your oddly-tinted blue eyes to meet vividly green ones. It was Harry Potter, obviously. And, for some reason, your heart skipped a beat, making you groan in pain. Your stomach did a few flip-flops too, and you collapsed since that was supposed to be physically impossible.
Harry gasped, rushing to your side. "What's the matter?"
"Don't know... Don't call me Mary... Call me Your Name...." was the last thing you said before you not-so-gracefully blacked out. Go you!
For the second time that day, you sat up in bed in a state of half-sleep. You barely noticed the small crowd around where you lay and instead muttered something about unicorns being girly.
"Your Name," you heard the kind voice of Mrs. Weasley say, "are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good," you spoke. "I think I was just a little tired." You rubbed your eyes and got up out of bed. "I'm fine, really." Various sighs of relief went around the group and Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.
"Since you're all here... I'd like to introduce you to Mary Sue Delacour who is transferring from Beaverteeth to Hogwarts this year. I think she's in the same year as you three," she explained, looking at Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "Fourth, right?" Hermione nodded and stuck her hand out.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself. You smiled at her and shook her hand. After everybody had finished introducing themselves (calling you Mary Sue each time, making you wince inwardly), you gave them a bit of a pleading smile.
"You wouldn't mind it if you called me Your Name, would you? It's just a nickname I'm rather fond of," you lied through your teeth. Of course, everybody complied rather happily, and all of you went downstairs into the garden for dinner.
Mrs. Weasley's cooking was as just as superb as it was described in the books. Dinner was practically a feast — and a rather enjoyable one at that. You discovered that you — or rather, Mary Sue — were part veela and that you were a rather good flier but not interested in actually playing Quidditch. Of course, you were also highly gifted when it came to magic, especially with Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Psht, figures.
Halfway through dinner, a barn owl came swooping down upon the table and landed gracefully in front of you, dropping a letter between you and the food in front of you. Curious, you opened up the envelope and read the parchment silently, and you were just lucky that nobody was reading it over your shoulder, for it read:
Hey, Your Name!
I hope you've realized by now that something's terribly wrong. This is what you get for messing with me! I've twisted reality as you know it (it twisted too much the first time I attempted to and it shattered by accident...) and now you're stuck in a horribly wrong version of your world! Yay! Just as a random note — you're actually in a comatose in reality. Fun, eh? Enjoy your everlasting nightmare!
P.S. Don't try and put Calcifer out again. He is my heart; I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill me.
P.P.S. If you write back and accuse me of being a girl (don't hate me because I am more gorgeous than you), I will be forced to put you into an affair with Professor Snape. 
Twitching, your stuffed Howl's note into your pocket and growled out, "Howl Jenkins Pendragon, I will fricken' kill you once I'm out of here and back to normal," through grinded teeth. From beside you, Hermione gave you a questioning glance, though it seemed that she did not hear what you had said. Lucky you, hm? You glanced at her. "Yes?"
"Is something wrong? You seem... Distraught..."
"Oh, no, I'm fine." You flashed her a friendly and reassuring smile, trying not to plot the many ways that you could kill Howl. Ooh, you'd kill that man, no matter how effing gorgeous he was...
Everybody was currently on the train known as the Hogwarts Express. You ignored the many hungry (and creepy — oh, yes, they were definitely creepy) stares that you were getting from many of the boys (particularly the boys in sixth and seventh year). You ignored the jealous looks that the many female students were giving you, and you ignored the many puzzled look that the saner students were sending you as you continued to walk around, looking for an empty compartment.
Flaming red hair caught your attention, and you caught the eye of Fred Weasley. You waved at him with a dazzling smile on your face ('I really hate this, I want to look normal again. I hope somebody knocks my teeth out — I liked them crooked.') and made your way over to where he was sitting with his other half, glowing. However, just as you were about to reach the compartment he was residing in, somebody with a firm and crushing grip grabbed you by the shoulder and spun you round. Confused, you looked up from the ground only to see a pale blond boy with a pointed face and two gorillas beside him.
'Great. It's Malfoy. Let's see... I bet he's gonna end up saying something like, "Well, well, boys, look what we have here," and send me lustful glances while putting an arm around me. Yeah, I'm totally gonna be sick after this,' you thought drily.
"Well, well, boys, look what we have here," Draco Malfoy drawled, attempting to send you lustful and vaguely sexy glances. To say the least, he failed. Instead of feeling dizzy with embarrassment, you suddenly had the urge to blind yourself just so you didn't have to see him. He put an arm around you just as you put a hand over your mouth and made retching noises. Despite the faces of anger on the Weasley twins' face, you saw laughter in their brown eyes.
Now, if this were just a really bad Harry Potter fanfic, the reader would be gasping in horror despite the blush on her cheeks and Harry would burst through the door any moment, proceed to beat the crap out of Malfoy, then passionately kiss the reader while the two of them made confessions of love and everybody else clapped and went 'aww'... But, no, this was not a really bad Harry Potter fic, so instead of standing helplessly there like a stuttering fool, you took the liberty to punch Malfoy in the jaw.
And then you slapped him, despite the fact that it was overkill.
Mister Dragonkins Teddy Bear stumbled backwards while tenderly holding his jaw. "My jaw!" he screeched as Crabbe and Goyle took a few steps towards you. You shot them a glare and shifted so as to avoid Crabbe's swipe at you.
"You fight like a wuss," you pointed out, blinking. Then —
WHAM! You saw stars as you stumbled forward from the blow to the head that you had just taken. You looked up, trying to ignore the dots that were clouding your vision and the many gasps of the other students, and saw Goyle with his face distorted into a mixture of stupidity and anger. And then some more stupidity. Growling in annoyance, you shook your head, and, in a clumsy fashion, punched Goyle in a gut. Although he let out a groan of pain, he didn't stagger backwards or give any other sign of agony.
"Alright, kiddies, I think it's time we stopped this fight," George interrupted while walking towards the two of you with Fred at his side. Malfoy sent you a bitter look as Goyle and Crabbe noted how much taller the twins were than them and glanced at their wands.
As the three of walked away, muttering amongst themselves as you walked toward the twins.
"Hey, guys," you greeted. They smiled back.
"Are you alright?" one of them asked.
"Yeah, I'm good," you responded in a nonchalant voice. "Don't be fooled by their size — I won't be surprised if they turn out to be preps in disguise."
There was no anxious feeling at the pit of your stomach, nor was your stomach pulling any more of those pesky, physically impossible tricks such as flip-flopping. Indeed, you felt nothing but apathy as you walked up to the stool at the front of the Great Hall where the dusty old hat, just singing a few good moments ago, was sitting motionless.
You took the hat off the stool and sat down on the stool as you put on the hat, your legs crossed... You could already imagine what the hat would say... '"Ah, a brave and spirited one, I see... I know exactly where to put you... GRYFFINDOR!"' because you knew that's how it always went in the fics... Right?
Wait, what fics?
STOP IT, STOP IT, THE FOURTH WALL! You're breaking so many rules, man!
Ahem. You coughed with one that resembled that of Umbridge's and then waited for the hat to speak. 'Ahh... you're quite clever, aren't you? Top in your class back at Beaverteeth... Yes, yes... But also quite cunning... And you're hiding many secrets. I can tell... You would do well in...'
"Here it comes," you muttered.
'... What?' you thought, mildly surprised. 'Slytherin? I don't want to be in Slytherin. That means being grouped with Malfoy... Euugghh...'
'Ahh, so reminiscent of Harry... Fine, then. Seeing as how you are also brave, daring, and courageous no matter what...' The hat paused a bit, quite dramatically, and then the seams ripped open as it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" There was applause at the Gryffindor table, and despite feeling completely indifferent to the sorting beforehand, you felt the fleeting sensation of happiness in the pit of your stomach — almost... joyous... No Slytherin... No Slytherin... You were in Gryffindor! The supposed best of all the houses!
Neville Longbottom tripped on his seat while sitting down (you weren't quite sure how), knocked Harry over, and thus started a domino effect.
...okay, well, maybe not quite the best.
You chose to ignore the Slytherins who were howling with laughter, and tried to concentrate on not being in the same house as Malfoy.
Let's recap the past week. You've had a relatively enjoyable time at Hogwarts. All your teachers love you, and you're spectacular with transfiguration. Even Snape begrudgingly gives you perfect marks, and you're quite good at Quidditch too — even if you have no intention to try out for the team. All the Gryffindor boys have been quite distracted by your voluptuous body for quite some time, and the only way to stop them from tagging you around 24/7....
Well, let's just say that you once saw a FLCL scan with very wise words (nevermind how you knew about FLCL to begin with): 'When a guy sees a pretty girl, he follows her around like a puppy. But once he finds out that she's a total weirdo, then he runs away'.  Okay, well, not quite that - but it was something to that effect! ...you think.
The point is — with the more persistent of your stalkers, you've had to establish the reputation of being a freak. That was the one thing that you enjoyed about this whole situation — freaking people out to no end.
...that was the one thing that you enjoyed...
Oh, woe was you.
Currently, you were sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, sipping orange juice beside Hermione Granger. She had a textbook propped up against a jug and was reading it as she wolfed down her breakfast. Off to the side, Harry and Ron were talking about Quidditch, and some where even more off to the side, you heard Fred and George talking about blackmail. Whatever.
It was then that with the sudden rustling of feathers and the sound of beating wings, a few hundred owls descended upon the tables at which all the students were dining at. To your surprise, three owls landed in front of you. One was a regular barn owl, the other was a demented looking sleep deprived grey-feathered owl, while the last was a pretty owl with really long feathers and blue eyes.
You could probably bet where that latter owl came from...
You took the message tied to the foot of the barn owl and read it with your head cocked to the side. Apparently, it was from Beaverteeth Academy — some people named Sora, Riku, Kairi, and Tori...
Hold on a second - Sora, Riku, Kairi, and Tori ? How were they incorporated in this strange fantasy world? You shrugged and proceeded to tear open the letter, ignoring the barn owl picking at some of your food. Your eyes scanned it, your right brow lifting higher and higher by the second, if that was possible.
Dear Mary Sue,
How are you, girl? I miss you so much! I hope you're having a wonderful time at Hogwarts over there. Also,
I just realized that the headmaster of Beaverteeth shared a name with me.
Yeah, you're bright, aren't you, Riku?
Shut it, Sora. Let Kairi continue her letter, now.
You're both idiots! Kairi wrote in her sophisticated writing, scolding the two on paper. There was a large space before she continued writing, this time her scrawl in a blue pen instead of a purple one, the rips at the edge of the paper evidence of a struggle, Sorry about that, Sue. Yeah, so, Tori, Riku, and Sora all made the Quidditch team!
Because we're awesome.
No, I'm obviously the awesome one. Tori had apparently joined the hodgepodge of messages to you, you noted, recognizing her messy, yet still readable handwriting. It was nothing like Kairi's clean cursive, or Riku's surprisingly neat printing. Rather, it was like a messy printing closer to Sora's writing. I'm doing great with Quidditch. I totally caught the captain, Cloud, off guard with my awesome skills! And I owned Leon during practice. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Yeah, she did, Sora agreed, But I owned her.
Kairi had taken the pen again, you noted.
Anyway, the original purpose of this letter was not only to tell you about that and get gossip out of the way (oh, did you know that Cloud started dating Tifa?), but also to tell you that one of the students have gone missing!
Yeah, Roxas is... gone...
My poor, poor bishie is gone! Oh, I hope he is okay! Why Roxas, of all people? He had never done anything wrong! Why not me? Why not somebody like Riku!?
Hey, what have I ever done to you!?
And the letter continued like that, the written argument between the four people quickly losing your interest. You stuffed it into your pocket, having the intention of reading it later, and took the message off of the demented looking owl, wondering who it could've been from. As soon as you had the message tight in your hand, the owl flew off, and you wondered if it foaming at the mouth was a figment of your imagination...
To be on the safe side, you pushed your food away.
You opened the letter and you gave a chime-like gasp of surprise, your sickeningly lovely eyes widening as you felt the urge to slap yourself. This was only a dream, only a dream...
What were you so panicked about? What was the determined, beautiful, strong, talented Mary Sue Delacour so worried and frightened of? Harry, Hermione, and Ron certainly didn't know, which was why your reaction to the parchment, clutched in your hand and scribbled upon with crimson ink, had caught their interest. They peered at you curiously, asking quietly what was wrong.
Of course, every story with a Sue had to have some kind of plot, preferably one involving the Sue's dark past and some former love interest who had been her sweetie, but had promptly been driven insane during the awkward years and whom she was forced to run away from. Well, this was, apparently, the kind of plot that this demented, who-gives-a-rat's-ass story had.
The writing was neat and small, with thin, quick strokes and entirely legible. The words were concise and clear to the point. The grammatical errors were few, and the punctuation errors were even fewer.
But none of that mattered to you in that moment. The only thing that mattered to you was that this letter was addressed to you, and that it was not only addressed to you, but held creepy stalkerish threats, and that not only was it both addressed to you and held creepy stalkerish threats, but that it also held proclamations of infatuation-like love.
Your eyes glanced at the bottom of the parchment, skipping the rest of the threats.
Your childhood friend and lover, Howl.
You slapped your forehead. Well, the threatening and ominous of the content had just been completely cancelled out by the realization that Howl was just bored and up to his stupid pranks again. Figures. "You know, guys, it's nothing. It's probably just a prank," you confessed quite eagerly upon seeing the looks of shock on their faces.
"But, but, but, they know all about you!" Hermione exclaimed.
"They know where you live!" Harry added.
"They've described your eye colour, figure, skin, and every other attractive part of your body imaginable in extreme detail in a complimentary fashion!" Ron screeched. "And without spelling errors!"
The three of you stared at him for a moment.
"What? It's true," he mumbled irritably.
"... Right. Guys, sorry to burst your bubble, but this is just a prank played on by one of my friends," you explained. "Howl really is my childhood friend — and nothing more than that, mind you." They all breathed sighs of relief, Harry's being particularly loud.
The entire school was in the Great Hall, chattering excitedly. The Durmstrang students would be arriving that day for the abruptly announced Triwizard Tournament along with the Beauxbatons students.
The current subject of aforementioned chatter could be divided into two categories; they were actually very specific categories, the first being that of the Triwizard Tournament. The students had been talking of the event for weeks now, all being apprehensive and excited. They wanted to see the champions perform unknown tasks of thrilling danger and glory. They wanted to be the champions themselves.
The second topic, perhaps more dominant than that of the former, was the talk of Draco Malfoy's sudden infatuation with Harry Potter. They were, no doubt, only rumours, but, come to think of it, if Draco had a crush on Harry, it wouldn't have been too farfetched... It would explain Draco's constant antagonizing of Potter, and also why he styled his hair with gel so carefully every day. An attempt to look stunning for the ladies? I think not!
...that's it. The world is on crack and everything right and holy is gone. 
You sighed as you heard a few girls next to you screaming about it, covering your ears. This was, without a doubt, pure torture.
Two new rumours and some first year screaming, 'It's a dragon!' later, The Durmstrang entered, their furs thick and warm-looking, and their stoic expressions intimidating for the most part. You caught the eye of Karkaroff, and he stared at you with a stony gaze which you returned. You then glanced at the student right behind him, Viktor Krum.
Hold on a second...
"No, no, no, Howl," you chided silently, even though Howl was nowhere near here, "you are not allowed to put me into a scandalous affair with that stupid penguin." Naturally, you had taken note of Viktor's lack of grace with his two feet on the ground. His habit of waddling was now the butt of most of your silent jokes to yourself.
And then with a flurry of powder-blue uniforms and a half giantess leading them, the Beauxbatons seventh years entered the Great Hall. Most of them were vain looking girls with looks to rival your own, shivering with resentment in their eyes at the cold weather. Amongst them were a few boys, all pretty looking, of course, and one of them happened to catch your eye —
"Howl!" you whispered in surprise. Harry turned to look at you with an inquiring expression on his face.
"Isn't that your childhood friend?"
"Yeah, Howell Jenkins, or Howl Pendragon, as he prefers to be called," you responded as your eyes followed his every move. He winked at you, his blond locks handsomely framing his face. Your face nearly heated up, and it would've, had it not been for the fact that the one thing you wanted to do that moment was run up to him and passionately strangle him.
You mouthed the words, 'Get me out of here,' and he smiled coyly at you, shaking with bottled laughter.
A while passed, in which Dumbledore explained some things about the Triwizard tournament, as well as introducing the student body to the headmasters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. You nearly fell asleep — it wasn't like you were going to enter the Triwizard tournament after all, and you also had no desire to. True, "Mary Sue Delacour" was gifted and talented in magic in every aspect possible, but you just weren't interested in breaking the rules or having your ass kicked. Yes, really, you weren't that courageous. That was more Harry's thing.
The Beauxbatons students were seated at the Ravenclaw table, and the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table — but who the hell cared about them? You were paying attention to the Beauxbatons Academy students... and so were some other people...
"They don't make them like that at Hogwarts," Ron commented with his mouth wide open, staring after the platinum blonde-haired girl who was walking away, her hips shaking from side to side. Harry glanced at you for a moment, although he also glanced at an Asian girl with ebony black hair and porcelain like skin at the Ravenclaw table.
"They make them okay at Hogwarts," he retorted. Hermione sighed in exasperation, chiding at them and lecturing them, you supposed — you weren't exactly paying attention to the current conversation.
Your eyes followed the blond in the powder blue uniform who stood up, walking towards the Gryffindor table with a confident kind of stroll. You raised a brow; what on earth was Howl doing? He came right over, and you thought for a moment that he was going to request some food like that part Veela girl had just done, but instead, he nearly shoved Harry to the side and sat beside you. "Why, hello!" he greeted in a suggestive tone, giving you the urge to kick him in the shins. "What is a beautiful lady such as you doing here?"
He even had the nerve to put an arm around you.
"Cut to the chase Howl," you snarled at him, albeit silently, earning a few questioning stares. "How are you in my retarded dream?"
"Oh," he said in a tone as if he were talking about the weather, "there was just some magic involved is all." You stared at him drily. "Well, this is what you get for trying to kill me." He smiled at you, patting your golden head. "I suppose I should get you out of here soon... but this is too much fun."
You glared at him. "Fun for you, maybe. But I don't see anybody calling you Mary Sue Delacour." He stifled a laugh, causing you to hit him over the head. Hard. In fact, it was harder than the blow that you had delivered to Draco, causing him to wince in pain. "I wonder," you pondered out loud in an attempt to irritate Howl, "how many ways there are to skin a man. And which is the most creative? Certainly not with this knife over here, although it'd be pretty efficient... Sadly, it would be less fun for me if the pain didn't last as long."
People all over the table were giving you suspicious and cautious stares.
"Err, Sue?" Hermione questioned timidly. "Is something wrong?"
"It's Your Name," you ground out. Howl saw how he could use that to his advantage, and he put an arm around you with a loving gaze. Stupid actor.
"Why, I'm flattered. You want to be addressed by the nickname I gave you when we were young! But it's my special nickname for you," he flirted outrageously. You slapped your forehead, groaning. Like I said: Woe is you. "Of course --"
Before he could continue, instead of blushing furiously and casting your eyes downward, not sure how to respond (which would inevitably lead to a relationship with Howl, then a scandalous affair with Harry), you slapped him over the head, earning you a satisfying 'ow'. "Shut up, Howl," you said briskly, "No use flirting with me. Go court those Beauxbatons girls, for all I care. I know you find at least one of them hot. Anyway," you lowered the volume at this point, careful that nobody could hear you, "get me out of here."
"Oh, fine," he drawled, sitting up and glaring at you with his marble-like eyes. He gave a burdened sigh. "When I leave, I will take you with me. That'll be shortly after the First Task."
You smiled at him, though it was forced. "Good, because if you don't..." You made a throat-cutting motion with your finger across your neck. He gulped and got up nervously, walking away at a brisk pace.
"Well, then, good-bye, Mary Sue!" he called.
That earned the attention of the blond girl who had Ron captivated. She looked at who Howl was waving to and she squealed in surprise, acting as if Christmas had come early. "Mary!" she called delightedly with her French accent. She ran immediately to the Gryffindor table, Ron's eyes following her every motion. That caused you to roll your eyes.
"My dear cousin!" she exclaimed, "I'm sorry, I never saw you!" The blonde embraced you, and you awkwardly put your arms around her. You could feel the eyes of every male on the student body on the two of you... Well, except for Draco's. His eyes were on Harry, naturally.
That was it. You knew this was bound to happen: Either you were Dumbledore's granddaughter, related to the Malfoys, Sirius' daughter, or the cousin of some Triwizard champion. And, out of all the champions, it just had to be Fleur Delacour. You stifled a groan and resisted the urge to slap your forehead.
You wouldn't be able to tolerate this blatant stupidity any longer.
You were outside in the stands along with everybody else, in between Ron and Hermione. Of course, that pretty little line break up there signifies a magical lapse in time to the First Task. As such, the the three of you were ready to cheer for Harry. And, of course, you had to cheer for the Beauxbatons champion: Howl Jenkins (or 'Pendragon' as he had gone by in this world). You actually did groan a bit upon finding out that he had made himself one of the champions.
You wouldn't be surprised if he ended up killing the dragon.
It was Harry that you were really worried about. Whatever he was planning to do...
Ahem. So, Cedric, having been injured, had been carried off into the hospital wing. Shortly afterwards, with the swooning of many a girl and a loud cheer from the Beauxbatons students, Howl exited the tent with a confident stride. You had to crack a grin at his vain facial expression, and how the wind just happened to blow in a convenient direction so that his hair flowed in it.
Oh, romantic cliches... you would never get tired of those.
He looked at the massive monstrosity, a welsh green dragon, before him with a confident gaze, not weary at all. Your eyes narrowed, wondering what he was going to do.
He smiled at the dragon before taking a step up — and another step, and another, and another... It was as if there was an invisible set of stairs right before him, and that he was climbing it. At one point, it seemed as if he were simply walking on air, with no invisible objects to help him. Of course, you knew better — there were no objects at all. He was simply walking on air.
The dragon regarded him cautiously, but didn't make any moves of attack.
There was the low buzzing of murmur amongst the students, but you ignored the quickly forming rumours, concentrating on Howl. He seemed to be sizing up the dragon, if anything, but then smiled slyly. The dragon exhaled, a large puff of smoke coming from his nostrils.
"Wizard Howl," she breathed suddenly in a deep and distinctly female voice, startling everyone and eliciting a scream from a lot of the female portion of the crowd. "I never thought that I'd ever see you again." Howl smiled at her.
"Kaisa," he greeted in mild surprise. "I was sure that I had seen you somewhere before. What are you doing here?" The dragon gave a heavy sigh, a massive amount of smoke coming out of her nostrils. Howl didn't seem to mind.
"It was awful," she complained. "One minute I was trying to protect my children, waiting for them to hatch, and then I was knocked out by these wizards and brought here." Howl frowned.
"Well, that's not very polite of them. They're trying to get chosen wizards past you dragons in order to get a golden egg from your nest," he explained. "Of course, it hasn't always been there. They've placed it there as the objective." By this time, Bagman had conjured a spell so that everybody could hear what the dragon and the wizard were conversing of.
Kaisa frowned. "But our eggs! That puts them in danger." She glanced at her eggs with a protective gaze, as if they would disappear into thin air. "And it would put us into danger as well." Howl nodded in agreement, murmuring something softly about rudeness. "Well! I'll be happy to let you have that egg." She lowered her head into a submissive bow, and Howl did the same.
"Why, thank you," the Welshman replied. He continued to walk on air, descending on an invisible (and figurative) set of stairs, until he was floating above the pile of eggs. He picked up the golden object amongst the various beige ones and proceeded to traipse out of the area. He stopped to incline his head toward you. "I can't express my thanks enough."
She gave him what seemed to be the dragon version of a gracious smile and sighed, smoke puffing out of her nostrils.
You were looking amusedly at the entire situation. Honestly, you had never even realized that the dragons in this world could talk — unless this was Howl's twisted reality kicking in... which it might've been.
At the Judges' table, they were having a quiet discussion. No doubt they were quite puzzled at Howl's show, although he had accomplished the objective: he'd retrieved the egg and had gotten away unscathed. Personally, you would've rated him a 10; after all, he had accomplished the objective not only successfully, but also peacefully.
The Beauxbatons headmaster gave him a 10; there was no surprise there. After all, Howl was representing Beauxbatons. A loud din echoed through the area, originating from the students in blue. You sent Howl a smile, and he glanced at you for a moment, giving you a quick wink.
Dumbledore awarded him with a 9, to your mild surprise. He probably took marks off for the lack of demonstration of magical expertise (although you suspected that he was aware that Howl had done quite a complicated spell to walk on virtually nothing). It was okay though, and Howl definitely wasn't okay. In fact, for the amount of work he had done, it was actually quite a lot.
Bagman raised his own wand, a silver ribbon-like object shooting out of it and forming into an eight in one smooth motion. 'Not bad,' you thought. 'Still pretty good.'
Crouch was next, and, to your surprise, he awarded Howl a 10. The raucous din from the blue clad students was louder than ever, and even you found yourself cheering wildly for Howl...
Karkaroff was last, and the figure that shot out of his wand had formed a three. You raised a brow, resisting the urge to curse him to the eighth circle of hell. What was with this guy? Hadn't Krum gotten a 10? 'What a biased freak,' you complained silently. Sure, you were angry at Howl for pitching you in here with annoying perfection, but he was still your friend...
You found yourself distracted from cursing the Durmstrang headmaster in several different languages in your mind as Harry walked out.
Everyone looked at the Boy Who Lived expectantly as he gazed into the Hungarian Horntail's malicious eyes. He glanced at you, as if trying to muster strength from the sight of you looking at him faithfully. If this were a fic (which, of course, it wasn't), you would be blowing him a kiss, or screaming a proclamation or love... Or perhaps even looking at him with an adoring gaze of the most intense love ever to be forged between two people.
Instead, you were frowning at him. "Don't hurt the Horntail too much!" you chided at him, earning a few laughs from the crowd. "No — I'm serious!" You gave him a sheepish grin which he returned.
You know the rest, right? Harry does an amazing summoning charm and his Firebolt flies through the air from the castle to him and he rides it better than Krum ever could, giving a spectacular show and narrowly dodging the Horntail's razor sharp teeth and the glinting spikes on its tail.
But really, with a furiously glittering amount of Sailor Moon style sparkles, he transforms into a unicorn symbolizing purity, love, and courage and dashes at an inhuman (which would make sense — he's a unicorn at the moment) speed at the pile of eggs, gracefully dodging the dire attacks of the Horntail and somehow retrieving the egg.
... nah, he goes through with the Firebolt plan. After all, Harry-kins is an unregistered animagus, just like his beloved daddy. Who knows what the fickle Ministry Muffin Men could do if they found that he could transform into an animal? How had Harry learned to become an animagus anyway? He had only heard of magic when he was in first year, and the only subject he was particularly good at was Defense Against the Dark Arts, unlike his father who was generally gifted in everything enough to learn to be an animagus in the short span of a few years...
And, well, Harry certainly didn't have his father's brains. Come on. Admit it. Hermione is always the brains of the operation.
Anyway: Harry had tied Howl for first place. He had certainly impressed the judges with his Firebolt trick.
Well, except for Karkaroff... but it's already been established that he's a biased craphead, hasn't it?
The corridors were dark. However, you weren't in danger of being caught at all. After all, Mary Sue Delacour apparently had the ability to become an animagus as well, and it was a lean and graceful looking black cat with beautiful amethyst eyes.
"Just like every other six year old girl's ideal animagus," you mumbled under your breath. "Why couldn't I have been a rat or something? It's much more practical for stuff like this."
Hey, hey, no questioning the all-powerful narrator!
"I thought you were a voice?"
Your paws padded the floor silently as you stalked down the hall into the library. You were to meet Howl here in order for him to cast a spell on you as to wake you up from a coma. Afterwards, he would poof himself back to his rightful world... Well, not Wales, but the Moving Castle.
Needless to say, Howl had probably come up with some clever way of disguise, so undetectable that not even Dumbledore would be able to spot him. Well, you'd be able to, because following the rules of Mary Sue, you would be more clever than Dumbledore. Of course.
...the truth could always be avoided...
And thus, that is how you found yourself in the restricted section, a blond haired Howl, not concealed in the very least, beside you. You gave him a reproachful look before transforming back into a human, giving him the same reproachful gaze.
"What?" he asked innocently. "I certainly wasn't caught."
You sighed, rolling your eyes.
"Yeah, so, wake me up and get out of here." He nodded sagely, giving you a small, blue pill.
"I have one too. See, I'm a coma also. Since this is your alternate reality, if you leave first, it'll crumble away and I'll die with it. So, I'll have to leave first, and you must leave shortly after." You weren't quite sure how that made sense, but you didn't quite care. All you cared about was having your own, less than glamorous appearance back, along with your mediocre magic, and your inability to transform into a stupid cat.
He swallowed the pill, and he had simply vanished in a matter of seconds. You blinked, looking around.
Nobody was there, and everything was still.
The silence was broken by a soft mewl. You whirled around to catch sight of Mrs Norris, and you cursed softly. That meant that Filch was nearby.
However, you were going to leave this place in a matter of seconds anyway, so why worry? You smiled and, quite anti-climactically, popped the pill into your mouth.
Your vision simply blacked at you, and, with a groan, you came to. You expected that to be a prank played by Howl, but when you woke up, you didn't see the dimly lit restricted section of the library, but the blinding white of the Hospital Wing. You sat up abruptly, wondering if you were still in that horrid reality.
You looked at the hair framing your face. It was no longer a godly, aurulent blond colour, but a more natural looking colour. Your skin was no longer sun kissed and flawless, but it had its own less-than-attractive parts. Your figure wasn't 'droolworthy', to your relief, and when you tried to change into cat, you simply couldn't.
"Your Name!" you heard somebody shout in surprise. You turned around to see Harry on the bed next to yours. "You're finally awake! You've been in a coma ever since summer — do you know how much of a hassle it was to get you here? Oh, you've missed so much! I'm a Triwizard champion, and I've just completed the first task, and — ah, you don't even know what the Triwizard tournament is, do you?"
You gave him an earnest smile. "No," you said, fibbing just the slightest. He certainly didn't need to know the kind of crack-dream that Howl had given you.
"Oh, I'll tell you all about it," he promised. He paused a bit. "So, you are feeling better, right?" You nodded. He smiled, getting up from his bed and wincing a bit as he rolled his shoulders. Of course — he had injured them during the first task here as he had injured them in your mind trip.
He came towards you. "Err, look," he said, looking into his lap. "I'm really glad you're alright and everything... and, you know... I was just wondering..."
"We're going to Hogsmeade on the 31st... would you like to, maybe, go with me?" he asked hopefully, phrasing his words as best as he could. You smiled at the lack of eloquence and the shy nervousness -- you certainly didn't like the coy and flirtatious Harry, nor did you enjoy your stomach doing literal flip flops.
"Of course I'd go on a date with you," you said casually. He smiled sheepishly.
Neither of you blushed. Thank god.
"Yeah, so, I have a question..." He gave you a curious look. "Who's the Beauxbatons champion? And has a man named Howl been lurking around here?" He gave you an odd look.
"The champion is Fleur Delacour," he answered. You stifled a choke. "And, well, I don't know of any man named Howl, but a few weeks ago, when school started, there was a blond guy, maybe in his late teens, around here. He was visiting you. Definitely not from the school. Demonstrated some really advanced magic."
"Show off," you muttered. "When I get my hands on him..." you trailed off, imagining the different ways of killing a man.
He smiled at your antics, although you didn't miss the look in his eye.
No, it was not a look of love. Far from it, actually — it was the type of look that you gave somebody after they grew a second head. You didn't mind it though; you were used to that look.
Of course, that wasn't necessarily a good thing, but that wasn't your fault. You were just following the wise words of that FLCL scan...
...perhaps a little too well.
I'm proud.. a little over 20 pages. Doesn't beat my Howl oneshot though. XD
 No, I am not a six year old girl.
 Snape x Student pairings will always scare me. Always. o_o No offence to the people who write them... but...
 Uhh... to be honest, I actually don't really mind the Harry x Draco pairing. In fact, I like it in some cases. It's not really a cliche either; it's just a random thing I added in. So, no offence to any supporters of that pairing.