"speech"

'Thoughts'

---

"What happened? I feel like I've been hit by a truck." At the sound of the childlike voice the patient quickly tried to sit up and was rewarded by a feeling of vertigo. After the patient got his bearings he realized his hands were small and that they were pale, like Caucasian pale. At the sudden realization his heart started to speed up and and a feeling of cold dread and panic started to take hold.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said a tall man with a long white beard dressed like some wizard at comic-con.

"Who are you?!" yelled the patient. The pit of his stomach starting to sink further.

"It's me, my dear boy, Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster. Don't you remember me? Harry, look at me. Are you alright, my boy?"  the bearded stranger asked in a worried tone.

"No way. This can't be. Aww fu…" was all that was heard before the patient, now identified as Harry Potter promptly fainted from the panic attack he had just experienced. When he woke up later that night, he laid in bed staring at the stone ceiling and realized that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, he started to ponder how he got to to some infirmary in a work of fiction.

'Fuuuuuuuck! Ok… let's think this through. How did I get here? How did I go from, 6'0" & 180lbs of hard steel and sex appeal to 4' nothing & 50lbs of skin and bone. Not to mention, from Afro-Latino caramel to fucking pasty Caucasian! If I were any fucking paler, I would glow in the fucking dark! This kid needs a tan ASAP. This is not how I imagined my day ending. Did I die? Or have I hallucinated 34 years of life. Get it together! Start at the beginning.'

---FLASHBACK---

A soldier stands by a bookshelf made from old pallets. His head turns from the book in right hand to the magazine on his left.

"Just got off that long ass patrol, got my equipment cleaned and ready. Shat, showered and shaved, now's the time to get some r&r. Now, should I read this book that I haven't read since high school or should I get some alone time with Ms. Paula Patton in this Maxim? Decisions…." He hardened his resolve and stared at the magazine. "Sorry baby, I know you and I have been together since my second tour but I'll make it up to you tonight before I go on that mission." he turned to the book and said "Alright Harry Potter, let's go find that stone and kick Voldemort's scaly ass." He did an about face and walked over to his cot in the plyboard hut that served as his home away from home.

"You know sarge, you can be one weird motherfucker. You can also be a scary and deadly motherfucker but mostly weird." said a soldier that had been standing in the doorway watching the soldier talk to himself while he chose reading material.

"Is that how you speak to a higher ranked NCO, sergeant? For shame!" the seated soldier replies in a mock scandalized tone. "Seriously, though why are you here, Mack? I just got back from patrol and got a mission tonight so I can't fuck around for too long before I try to get some rack time. What do you want?" he said followed by a yawn.

"Not much just seeing if you had any extra dip you could sell me, so I have some on patrol. When is your next shipment coming in, anyways, Martinez?"

Martinez' demeanor changed to one of a sleazy used car salesman. "Why Mckenzie, you are in luck, I just got my stock replenished yesterday. Would you like just one can or a roll? I also have a carton of 'Cowboy Killers' if you are interested, the thing is this shipment was smaller than usual so my supply is limited which brings the price up… you understand right?" he asked in a sickly sweet manner.

"Fuckin' SF pipehitter, part time medic and full time con artist. How much for a roll?" replied Mckenzie in defeat.

"Why Sergeant Mckenzie, that would be $30 but because you are a loyal customer we will drop the price to $25. Best prices in all of Korengal valley, Afghanistan, my friend" Martinez quipped.

"Cock sucking thief! Here's your money. You're lucky, I gotta roll in 15 mikes otherwise I would kick your ass for this daylight robbery."

"Sergeant Mckenzie, I'm just a businessman trying to get by. You know if you stopped dipping and smoking you could have saved yourself $25." Martinez jovially replied.

"Fuck off! I gotta roll, wouldn't look good if the team leader is last one at the rally point. See ya when I get back, brother"

"Yeah Mack, keep your head on a swivel out there. Fuckers have been too quiet lately. See ya when you get back, brother." Martinez said to his best friend. 

Martinez put his contraband away and laid on his cot and started reading his Harry Potter. He made it one chapter before he fell asleep. 

"MARTINEZ! KIT UP. WE GOTTA GO HELP BRAVO THEY GOT AMBUSHED AND ARE PINNED DOWN."

Martinez awoke to the loud yell from his door. It took a nanosecond for the info to register but he was geared up and ready to be help his battle buddies. It didn't take too long to get to the battlefield, he could see the reinforcements pushing the terrorists back so he was gonna make his way to the wounded. He helped patch up a few guys then he realized Mckenzie wasn't on the fire line and he wasn't with the wounded.

"WHERE'S MCKENZIE?" He bellowed. One of the soldiers being patched up said he was still holding them off. Martinez got a small team to follow him and and they made their way to where Mckenzie was holding up. He saw his friend behind a boulder trying to fire his side arm. Martinez saw Mckenzie's right arm was bleeding badly. He turned to the two soldiers and gave his instructions.

"Listen up, I'm gonna need you to call in a strike on that side of the valley. I know its danger close but we have a good chance of haulin ass out of here before then. I'm gonna need you to provide cover fire so I can get Mckenzie and drag his ass over here after I assess his wounds, tracking?" he commanded. 

"Roger, sarge. Just tell me when. Let's end these fuckers." Private Meyers replied with righteous anger reflected in his eyes.

"Private Morales, how long till that strike?"

"10 mikes, sergeant." he stated with a predatory grin.

"I'm going for it. Cover me while I move."

Martinez heard the gunfire but he just focused on his buddy. He ran from cover to cover until he made it to the boulder.

"Mack, you good? You look like you're losing a lot of blood. Where's your first aid kit?" he asked as he inspected his buddy's wound.

"I lost my pack when I threw myself behind cover. What really pisses me off is that I just lost that roll of fucking dip!" he spat through clenched teeth.

"Well you are in luck my friend. First aid is free. The roll of dip will cost you $25 though," Martinez quipped.

"Fuck you!" screamed McKenzie as the bandage was pressed to the wound. 

"You should be good enough to move. We gotta roll, strike is coming in and it's very fucking danger close. I'll cover you. You haul ass to the tree line."

Martinez popped up from behind the boulder and fired at the enemy on the other side of the valley. He fired his rifle while bullets peppered around him. Then he heard his buddy made it to the rest of the team. He ducked and reloaded his rifle then heard the go signal. He saw his team yelling and firing behind him then he tripped.

He flailed and touch the ground with his left hand but his team was 5 meters away he would make it. He knew instantly he wasn't gonna make it  when the red hot poker of pain slammed under his left armpit. He felt like he got kicked in the armpit then took a bat to the chest. As he laid there he knew the bullet hit his lung and most likely his heart so he didn't have long. It was kinda like the movies, everything went slow-mo. They rolled him onto his back and he watched the plane fly by.

He could see his battle buddies yelling at him to hold on and frantically trying to save his life. He coughed up the blood in his throat, squeezed his best friend's hand smiling up to let him know that everything was gonna be ok. Then as he saw the plane start to open up on the enemy he lifted up his left hand shakily and flipped the enemy the bird. His last thought as his vision started to fade to black:

Fuck those guys. 

---FLASHBACK END---

The boy was staring at the ceiling and contemplating his situation. 'I wonder if I would've picked the Maxim instead of the book, if I would be banging Paula Patton right now. I'm such a moron. So, I didn't see a spirit guide or deity or grim reaper. This is definitely not heaven otherwise I would be banging Paula Patton. That only leaves hell. Yup, this must be hell.

Waking up in the body of a malnourished, pale English kid while some creep ass old man watches me sleep. So I'm a scrawny ass 11 year old kid in England. This blows. Those are the facts so what are the options. I think I woke up at the end of the first book. Let's not forget that fact either.

Options…. Ok. Option one. I could tell dumbledick I'm a reincarnated soul or whatever. Repercussions, they could send my ass to a magical insane asylum. They could obliviate my ass and I would forget who I am then I really would be potter. Yeah not doing that. Option two, I could fake a concussion. Say I hit my head and had temporary amnesia then pretend to be Harry. Option two for the win.

Now, Harry was a naive scared little boy. I ain't doing that. I can pretend to be suffering until I get back to the Dursley's and put boot to ass on those fucking child abusers. What can I do to fix this shit. I always thought Dumbledore was low key, a con man. He is gonna wanna control some poor, naive and abused kid. I need to get the fuck out of dodge asap if I will have any chance to survive voldemort. I am so not gonna call him that. It's just fucking stupid. I'll call him asshole. That will work for now till I come up with something better. Now, how will I go about this…

I need money which I have a lot of in that vault. How did I know that? Aww shit I have all of real Harry's memories. Oh shit! I have magic! I totally overlooked that. Ok ok… Gringotts is a bank right. Maybe I can get a personal banker and they can help me out and if they are a bank they have lawyers and they can get me one to deal with the douchebags that locked Harry up.

Maybe I could even sue Dumbledick. I'll figure it out. So item one is getting to Gringotts. Then item 2 would be to get fit. I will not be some pasty ass bite size pansy. This place has potions maybe I can get looked at muggle side and compare it to what they say wizard side and get this body to cold steel and sex appeal status.

Fuuuuck! I just realized I'm stuck in 1992. Wait a minute this might not be so bad. Grunge is at its peak! Gansta rap! All is not lost! So recap. Gringotts, then health then planning for that fucking snake in the chamber of secrets and for Gary Oldman a.k.a Sirius. So much to do. Before anything else though, I gotta get through Dumbledore's interrogation. It's crazy how all these people actually resemble the actors in the movie.

First things first, talking to that creepy ass dude then putting up with super ginger and future hottie. Alright, get some rack time and then kick this shit show off. Fuck me, Jason Martinez died. I'm Harry muthafucking Potter now.'

The following morning Harry awoke to the sound of whispered conversations. He decided to open his eyes to deal with this asap.

"Good afternoon dear, how are you feeling? Do you have any pain? Do you know who I am?" asked a woman. It took a minute but his mind offered up the info.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey I remember you. I feel a slight headache but it is mostly likely because I'm thirsty," he replied. 

"Good. I really do think you should get some more bed rest but the headmaster wanted to speak with you. He's awake Albus, now I'm gonna get him some headache potion and I'll be right back," she said before walking off.

"Good after noon, Harry," said Dumbledore.  

"He got the stone, didn't he, sir." He asked.

"He didn't, actually, all thanks to you and your friends. I must thank you for that." He stated behind his twinkling eyes and grandfatherly smile.

'This dude is such a creep. I need to move conversation along. Then pretend to be somber cuz that other dude died. I'm just so glad the English accent comes out automatically cuz otherwise I would be so fucked.'

"Is he in custody or is he dead?" he asked. 

"He is dead, Harry. You see he was already dead he was just possessed by voldemort. I want you to know you aren't a murderer, he was already dead. You can't kill what's already dead," he said in his most assuring voice.

"I guess now the professor can finally rest in peace." Harry stated in the most somber and innocent manner he could.

"That is a wonderful way to look at it, my boy. As soon as Poppy releases you, you should get back to your friends and get ready for the leaving feast," He stated in his grandfatherly manner.

"I will professor," Harry assured.

'Boy, are you gonna be in for a treat, ya creep.'

*****

Military Jargon

NCO- non commissioned officer 

Rack time- sleep

Dip- chewing tobacco

Cowboy killers- Marlboro red cigarettes

SF- special forces

Pipehitter- term often used to categorize the elite, special operations, direct action units of the Military.

Mikes- minutes

Tracking- understand