The uninvited guest.

the uninvited guest part 1

The street was bustling hestia was reading a marauders fanfic while waiting to cross the street she didn't notice the car that lost control and coming her way. Then she looked up and saw it come that way she could do anything it had already hit her then it all went black.

Hestia woke up rubbing her head and sat upright only to look straight into a pair of hazel eyes she looked to see two boys one with hazel eyes messy black hair glasses looking at her and another boy with long Curly black hair and grey eyes and great bone structure. Her first instincts was to scream and she did. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh" . She thought they were kidnappers she grabbed her bag that was beside her grabbed her pepper spray and sprayed it at their eyes. The two boys doubled over she thought they were some freaks with marauder obsession and a penchant for cosplay.

The sharp, stinging cloud of the pepper spray filled the sunlit bedroom, instantly cutting through the quiet morning air. James Potter and Sirius Black stumbled backward, gasping, coughing, and pressing their hands desperately to their burning eyes.

"Bloody hell!" Sirius choked out, crashing against a mahogany wardrobe as he tried to claw the invisible fire from his face. "My eyes! I think I'm permanently blind!"
"What-what is that stuff?" James wheezed, blindly reaching out and grabbing the edge of the four-poster bed for balance. "Did she just throw acid at us?"

Hestia scrambled backward against the headboard, clutching her canvas tote bag to her chest like a shield. Her chest heaved as her mind raced, desperately trying to piece together how she had gone from standing on a noisy concrete street in the path of a speeding car to waking up in a ridiculously lavish, ancient-looking room with two teenagers who looked like they had stepped right off the cover of a *Marauders Era* fancasting board.

*Cosplayers,* she told herself frantically, her knuckles white around her bag. *Deranged, hyper-realistic, extremely dedicated cosplayers.*
"Stay back!" Hestia warned, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound fierce. She rummaged blindly inside her bag, her fingers brushing past her phone-which was stubbornly displaying a dead screen-before closing around a heavy metal water bottle. "I'm warning you! I know self-defense, and I am not afraid to bash your skulls in with a Hydro Flask!"

Sirius let out a groan, wiping his watering eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, blinking furiously through red, tear-streaked lids. "Bash our skulls in? In *our* own room? Potter, where on earth did your parents find this lunatic?"

"My parents didn't find her!" James shot back, still squinting painfully as he tried to focus on the terrifying girl sitting on his bed. "She literally just materialized in the guest wing guest bed! Effie said she found someone unconscious near the wards!"

Hestia froze. *Wards? Guest wing?*
She looked past the two groaning boys, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The room wasn't a convention hotel or a makeshift stage set. It was massive, dominated by stone walls, rich velvet tapestries, and a towering canopy bed carved with crests that looked entirely too authentic to be plastic props. Through the high arched window, rolling green hills stretched out toward a distant horizon-not a skyscraper or a stretch of asphalt in sight.
A cold drop of dread pooled in her stomach.

*The fanfic.* She had literally been reading a Marauders time-travel fanfiction right before the car hit her.
"No," Hestia whispered, her grip on the water bottle slackening. "No, no, no. That's not how physics works. I got hit by a car. I should be in a hospital. Or dead."

"You're definitely in the head-injury department," Sirius muttered, finally managing to crack both eyes open, though he glared at her with suspicious hostility. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "And whatever muggle torture device you just sprayed in our faces should be illegal in both the wizarding and non-wizarding worlds."

Before Hestia could formulate a response-or figure out whether to laugh, cry, or scream again-the heavy oak door banged open.
Effie Potter hurried into the room, wand drawn and expression tight with worry, followed closely by a very alarmed-looking fleamont potter

"Boys! What on earth is all the screaming-" Effie stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes darting from James and Sirius, who were still rubbing their stinging red eyes, to Hestia, who sat wide-eyed and petrified in the center of the bed.
Effie lowered her wand slowly, a mix of maternal exasperation and deep concern washing over her features. She took a step forward, her voice soft and soothing.

"Oh, dear," Effie said gently. "I think she's awake."

"James, Sirius, stop scaring the poor girl," Fleamont Potter said, stepping into the room with a gentle, disapproving shake of his head. He offered the two coughing teenagers a stern look before turning his attention back to the bed. "Look at you two, stumbling around like a pair of doxies in a honey pot. Go wash your faces."

Sirius muttered something under his breath about cruel and unusual Muggle weaponry, while James shot Hestia one last bewildered glance before the two of them shuffled out of the room toward the washroom, still sniffing and blinking furiously.

Euphemia didn't waste a moment. She walked right up to the side of the grand four-poster bed, moving with a calm, practiced warmth that instantly took the sharp edge out of the panic in the room. She sat down softly on the edge of the mattress, keeping her movements slow and non-threatening, and reached out to gently rest a warm hand over Hestia's trembling fingers where they still clutched the metal water bottle.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Euphemia said, her voice a soothing, melodious balm. "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you."

Hestia didn't answer. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared into Euphemia's kind, hazel eyes. Every instinct she had was screaming that this was impossible. She subtly tore her gaze away from the older woman and began scanning the room with frantic intensity.

*Hidden cameras,* she thought, her eyes darting across the intricately carved ceiling molding, the corners of the stone walls, and the heavy velvet drapes. *It has to be a prank show. Or an incredibly elaborate immersive theater experience. Where's the crew? Where's the lens?*

She twisted her head, looking behind the bedpost, checking the mirror on the vanity, and even peering suspiciously at the chandelier overhead, looking for the tiny gleam of a Go Pro or a boom mic.

"Dear?" Euphemia prompted gently, noticing Hestia's darting, disbelieving eyes. She squeezed Hestia's hand reassuringly. "Can you tell me your name? And where you're from? Fleamont found you near the outer ward boundary early this morning, completely unconscious."

Hestia blinked hard, her eyes snapping back to Euphemia's face. The sheer sincerity in the older woman's expression-the faint worry lines around her eyes, the genuine warmth in her touch-felt entirely too real to be acting.

"I'm... I'm Hestia valerius," she managed to choke out, her voice sounding raspy and small. She swallowed hard, deciding to test the waters. "And I'm from... London. Or, well, I was crossing the street in London, and a car-" She stopped, her eyes widening further as the absurdity of it hit her. "A car hit me. I should be dead."

Fleamont stepped a little closer, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "A car? One of those metal carriages without horses that the Muggles drive?"

Hestia stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly. She looked between Fleamont and Euphemia, the word *Muggles* echoing loudly in her head. Nobody in a normal London hospital used wizard slang unless they were deep, deep into a very expensive roleplay.

"You..." Hestia pointed a shaky finger at Euphemia, her voice dropping to a breathless whisper. "You're Euphemia Potter. And that's James. And the curly-haired one is Sirius."

Euphemia blinked in surprise, a small, knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. "Well, yes, darling. You've met our boy and his best friend, though I imagine introductions were a bit... explosive this morning."
Hestia let out a hollow, hysterical laugh and let her head drop back against the wooden headboard, staring up at the canopy.

*I'm inside the fanfiction,* she realized with mounting, inescapable horror. *I actually fell into the fanfic.*