u/MoodHour2787

The smell was the first thing that hit her—stale tobacco, wet dog, and the sharp, briny tang of sea salt.

Hermione grunted, rolling over to block out a deafening, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like an engine backfiring. Her shoulder slammed directly into cold, unforgiving stone. She gasped, her eyes snapping open, only to find herself staring at a ceiling of rotting wooden beams and a leaking thatch roof.

She wasn't in her room. She wasn't in the Gryffindor dorms. And she was absolutely freezing, save for an incredibly heavy, moldering overcoat draped over her torso.

“Oof,” she tried to say, but the voice that came out of her throat was entirely wrong. It was too low, too raspy, and distinctly male.

Hermione scrambled backward, her hands flying to her throat. She froze. Her fingers were tiny, calloused, and covered in a layer of grime that she would never allow under her fingernails. She pulled her hands into her line of sight. They were thin. Unhealthily thin. The wrists looked like twigs, and the oversized, grey woolen sleeve swallowing her arm looked like it belonged to a small tent.

She looked across the room. Sleeping soundly on a tragically sagging sofa was Rubeus Hagrid.

No. No, no, no.

Memory hit her like a Bludger. The Department of Mysteries. The shattered Hour-Glasses. A blinding, golden vortex of rogue Time-Turners exploding right in her face. Harry had tackled her, trying to drag her away from the collapsing pedestal—

Hermione scrambled to her feet, or tried to. She tripped over the hem of a pair of trousers so massive they had to be held up by a piece of frayed rope. Her vision swam. As she steadied herself against the damp stone wall, her hand brushed her forehead.

There, hidden beneath a mop of unruly, bird-nest hair, was a jagged, raised line of scar tissue.

“Harry,” she whispered, her new, prepubescent boy's voice cracking. She looked down at her ribs, clearly visible through a threadbare, oversized t-shirt. A deep, cold fury sparked beneath her panic. She had known the Dursleys were awful—Harry had dropped hints over the years—but experiencing the physical reality of a childhood spent in a cupboard was entirely different. Her stomach gave a violent, painful twist of hunger. He was so small. So terribly, dangerously underweight.

"Er—ooofff," Hagrid grunted, stirring on the sofa. The giant man blinked, rubbing his dinner-plate-sized eyes, and looked down at her. "Morning, Harry! Happy birthday to yeh! Eleven today, eh?"

Hermione swallowed hard, forcing her analytical mind to override the sheer terror of her situation. If she was here, in Harry's body, on July 31st, 1991... then where was Harry?

"Thank you, Hagrid," she managed to say, trying to mimic the quiet, polite tone Harry always used when talking about his childhood.

"Got a bit of a rush on today," Hagrid said breezily, reaching into the fathomless depths of his coat. "Got to get yeh to Diagon Alley, get your school things. Oh, an' I nearly forgot!"

From an inside pocket, Hagrid pulled out a large, slightly squashed chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written in green icing. Hermione's stomach roared at the sight of food. For the next hour, she played the part of the bewildered eleven-year-old orphan, observing everything with a sharp, academic intensity.

When they finally made it to London and stepped into Gringotts, the reality of Harry’s life hit her for a second time. Griphook unlocked Vault 687, and the door swung open to reveal literal mountains of gold. Mounds of Galleons, columns of Sickles, and heaps of Knuts.

Hermione stared at the fortune, her jaw dropping. All this wealth, she thought, a fierce, protective anger boiling in her chest. He had all of this, and they left him to starve in rags on a dirt-covered rock.

But the biggest shock of the day came at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Hagrid, looking terribly pleased with himself, presented her with a cage containing a pristine, snowy white owl.

The owl looked through the bars, her amber eyes incredibly intelligent, and let out a soft, inquiring bark.

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat. She reached out a small, trembling hand, letting the owl gently nip her fingers. "Hedwig," she whispered, the name slipping out instinctively. For a moment, the terror of being trapped in the past in her best friends body vanished, replaced by the fierce determination to fix everything.

xxx

I am hopefully going to do something with this but as it is the third one ive created today, for a third fandom, im not going to get my hopes up. If someone wants to write a story on this, go ahead. All I ask is you post a link so I can read it.

Breaking News: The Encontro das Águas

​The television in the Dursley living room blared, cutting through the usual morning tension. On screen, a news anchor stood before a digital backdrop showing a map of South America, her expression a mix of profound bewilderment and professional composure.

​"We interrupt our regular programming to bring you live, unprecedented footage from Amazonas, Brazil," the reporter announced, her voice shaking slightly. "Scientists and onlookers are witnessing what can only be described as a defiance of natural law at the Encontro das Águas—the Meeting of Waters."

​The screen cut to aerial footage of the famous river convergence.

​"As many of our viewers know, this is the point where the pale, sandy-brown waters of the Amazon River and the dark, tea-colored waters of the Rio Negro collide. Because of stark differences in temperature, speed, and water density, the two rivers notoriously run side-by-side for miles in the same channel without merging. One half remains strictly brown; the other half remains strictly black."

​The camera zoomed in closer, panning along the distinct, two-toned boundary line.

​"But look at your screens now. This is not a trick of the light, nor is it a chemical spill."

​A streak of brilliant cyan and purple was cutting directly down the center of the convergence. A quadrupedal, crystalline creature—graceful, wearing a flowing, cape-like purple mane and two white, ribbon-like tails—was sprinting effortlessly across the surface of the water. Wherever its paws touched, the effect was instantaneous and absolute.

​"An unknown, majestic creature is running directly down the dividing line," the reporter gasped, dropping her formal cadence entirely. "It is... it appears to be purifying the river! The dense, muddy brown water on the left and the dark, acidic black water on the right are both instantly turning into crystal-clear, pristine water the moment this entity passes. Decades of distinct ecological separation are being erased in seconds, leaving behind nothing but pure, transparent fluid."

​The Living Room at Number 4

​In the kitchen of Number 4 Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley’s face purpled instantly. He slammed his newspaper down onto the table, glare snapping directly toward Harry, who was quietly trying to clear the breakfast dishes.

​"I knew it!" Vernon bellowed, a thick finger stabbing toward the television screen. "I knew your... your abnormality would eventually spill out into the proper world! Look at that! Look at what your lot is doing to the bloody environment!"

​"Vernon, dear, keep your voice down, the neighbors," Petunia hissed, though her eyes were equally wide and accusatory as she stared at Harry.

​"I don't care about the neighbors right now, Petunia! They’re ruining the rivers! First it’s owls flying about in broad daylight, and now there’s a bloody blue monster turning foreign rivers see-through!" Vernon turned his full fury back onto Harry. "What is the meaning of this? Is this some sort of sick joke from your school? An exhibition? Answer me!"

​"I don't know what that is, Uncle Vernon," Harry said honestly, looking at the screen in genuine awe. He had never seen anything like the creature on the television, and he was entirely certain that Hogwarts didn't teach "river-purifying cyan monsters" in Care of Magical Creatures. "I've never seen that before in my life."

​"Don't lie to me, boy!" Vernon snarled. "Who else could cause this kind of unnatural nonsense? Things don't just appear out of thin air without you lot being involved!"

​Before Vernon could continue his tirade, the television anchor's voice rose in pitch, drawing everyone's attention back to the broadcast.

​"We are receiving confirmation now," the reporter stammered, holding a hand to her earpiece. "This is not an isolated incident in Brazil. Reports are flooding into our newsroom from across the globe. Unidentified, fantastical creatures—some resembling giant birds of fire, others small, sentient plants—are manifesting in major cities, rural towns, and wilderness areas worldwide. Repeat: this is a global phenomenon..."

​Harry stared at the screen as images of strange, vibrant creatures began flashing in a rapid montage. For once, he knew with absolute certainty that this wasn't a wizarding prank, nor was it his fault. Something much larger, and entirely unstoppable, was converging with their world.

Xxx

I'm hoping it is obvious that this is somehow the Pokemon world converging with the Muggle magical worlds.

I hope to continue this someday but for now if anyone would like to use this to create their own story go ahead, all I ask is that if you do use it to start your own story then please post a link so I can read it.

How did the Weasley kids find Harrys house? In canon he gave Ron the phone number for 4 Privet Drive and the Owls run on name only, or at least Hedwig does. So how did they know his address?

How did they find which bedroom was Harrys? Did they just fly around and look in windows?

For me, it is about an inconsistency in the memory of the Gaunts.

Marvolo was clearly incensed by the fact that a muggle, Tom Riddle Sr and his parents, were richer then them and lived in the Manor House up on the hill. If he could have, he would have stollen the muggles money and house.

So, I think that Marvolo and his children were cursed. I think they were cursed to never gain money by illicit means.

It would explain why so many years later, Tom Riddle is basically a finacial parasite on his followers, he cant steal the money for himself.

This here is a Prompt. As in, I want someone to write this.

Grogu is a fully fledged Mandalorian but he is still young. His Father has died, of either old age or battle, and he is lonely, even if he doesnt realise it yet. He is still young after all. Like his father he is a Bounty Hunter.

One day he is sent after a preteen Twi'lek (or some other race that is often enslaved). This preteen ran away because she was about to be sold into slavery. The problem is that she was already sold and the buyer wants their property.

So, Grogu does his job and delivers her to where he is told to.

Before he knows it, he follows in his fathers footsteps as he breaks into the compound and rescues the girl. She becomes his foundling.

When writing Fanfiction that includes one of Yoda/Grogu/Yaddle's species, what do you call them?

Do you just keep calling them a little green alien of unknown species? Is there a popular Fanon Name for them?

The character cant keep calling the little green person "Yoda's Species" because they were born after the fall of the Jedi and has never heard of Yoda.