Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a very odd feeling in my chest as I stared at the letter in my hands. Beautiful script on high quality paper - or, maybe it was parchment, given its origins. My name and address was on the front; a wax seal bearing the school’s crest sealing it closed on the back.

Miss Hadriana Potter

Number 13 Dunwich Circle

Cokeworth

I was, admittedly, torn between feeling giddy and irritated. This was an actual real-life Hogwarts letter! It was likely an acceptance letter, otherwise why would I have received it? Although, it would’ve been hilarious if I were to open it up and it said, “Dear Miss Potter, we regret to inform you that you do not meet the requirements to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry .” I couldn’t help but snort loudly as I imagined it. As amusing as the thought was, however, it wasn’t hard to admit that I would’ve been a bit disappointed since this was Hogwarts and I’d end up missing out on meeting all the students and teachers that would be attending.

I idly wondered if anyone had even noticed that I was no longer where that old fool placed me on that cold November night all those years ago. I recalled a few events that hadn’t caught anyone’s eye, events that were not in the books. One when Hadriana was four years old and the other when she was six and well… 

If no one from the magical community noticed something was amiss before, they certainly wouldn’t now.

I remembered what I’d witnessed from Film One involving the cluster of owls that had flocked outside as time passed with no reply. I opened the door to check and see if the delivery owl was still there and found it was, in fact, waiting. No doubt for a response. “My apologies for not having a window open, Gorgeous, but up until this point I haven’t had any other post but Muggle based and thus postal owls aren’t part of my daily routine.”

It blinked - if you would pardon the pun - owlishly at me before flapping its wings a bit. “Well I never thought I’d meet a human who spoke Owlish!” The bird said in surprise. “How interesting!”

I wasn’t about to correct it by saying I was gifted with the ability to converse with all beasts, rather than being a purely avian speaker, so I just smiled. “Well I hope the surprise is pleasant. Would you mind waiting out here while I pen my reply? I’m afraid I don’t have any owl treats - previous lack of postal owl familiarity and all - but I might be able to scrounge up a mouse if that’s a good substitute?”

“Oh it’s no bother at all! A good chance to rest the wings. And a spot of meat for the old gullet would be much appreciated! I’ll just be waiting here! The weather promises to hold out and remain pleasant and the winds are moderate. A good day for delivering the post!”

I went back into the house and closed the door behind me. Tapping the letter on my open palm, I wandered into the kitchen, summoning my breakfast from a food dimension before summoning a pen and paper as well. “Or, rather, it’s called a biro, isn’t it? The British call them biros,” I said out loud. I’d have to remember that; if I were ever to meet another muggleborn or muggle-raised, the American terms would fly right over their heads.

I turned the letter over, about to break the wax seal, when I recalled that compulsion spells, and the like, tended to make a regularularly unwelcome occurrence. Well shit. It wasn’t hard to imagine that such a thing would happen, despite my particular lack of a certain Old Man’s visible presence in my life so far, but given what was to come, I should probably be more fucking careful . Things have already veered off canon as it was and, though there had never been proof in the books or movies, Dumbledick had cast dark magic on Harry before. The man’s judgement was questionable. I didn’t trust him in the slightest.

He’d left Harry, or rather me, on a doorstep, in November, wrapped in a blanket, with only a note , and in the care of two extremely vile - and rather bigoted - individuals who had the audacity to breed. They were the kind of people who thought it was just fine to beat a helpless child to the brink of death if they found something that didn’t, exactly, conform to their perceived “ideals.” They were the sort that would literally throw a broken-bodied child into a cupboard under the stairs, before leaving them for days without so much as checking on them. Not even caring whether or not they’d die and something ended up taking over their body...

I’d have to pity Dudley. I really would.

Well, that is until he became aware enough to be responsible for his own choices, at least. Then the pity stops, replaced by disgust and condemnation.

Oh right…nearly forgot that I’ve got some breakfast to eat and a letter to look over. Whoops!

“Now let’s see if a certain Champion of the “greater good” tried to mess with me, shall we?” I asked aloud.

I summoned a floating bubble-shield that would be able to both contain the letter, and run a diagnostic on it, before slipping the letter inside the sphere without touching it. To be honest, I should have done this when I first spotted the letter on my doormat. I’ve not received any mail since I moved here - I even managed to avoid acquiring junk mail. However, seeing that a letter - that letter in particular - had slipped through my mail slot...it was just so weird.

I would scold myself or make a note not to touch strange objects, but I wasn’t gonna fool myself. I’d end up doing it anyway.

“Preliminary scan complete. Subject status: Negative for compulsion spells or other harmful magics.”

The dulcet tones of GlaDOS filled my ears. I’d decided to have an audio cue, instead of merely a visual one, to tell me when the testing was done. Yeah, the game series won’t be made until the 2000’s, and might not even exist in this universe, but my sentimental little heart wanted to hear that iconic voice. And, since I possessed powers that rivaled a god, if not equal to Gods themselves, I could do that.

I levitated a butterknife and sent it into the bubble shield, re-closing it after insertion. Using the knife to wandlessly pry the seal free from the back of the letter and unfolding the parchment, I watched for color changes to either the letter or the shield. None so far. That was rather promising. I took a bite of my breakfast - a tasty collection of American-style bacon, sausage links, and pecan pancakes with sunny side up eggs - and sipped at my glass of grapefruit juice, waiting for further results. I know I could’ve just said, “This letter is perfectly normal” and be done with it, but I rather enjoyed this process. I mean, sometimes there was just no fun to be had if all you have to do is wave your hand then wham! you’re done.

Besides, it wasn’t like I was in any rush.

After I’m finished checking this, I’ll have to figure out which path I want to take in regards to handling future...situations. There were two ways I could go about this. 

No. 

Wait. 

Three. Definitely three paths to choose from.

Option Number One: I could go the more “canon” route and not respond at all, wait until Dumbledore sends Hagrid, and then see how that goes. After all, Hagrid should be able to track me down, and from what I know, he’d be rather excited to see me. Or, to be more precise, Harry aka Hadriana. Poor fellow was as clueless as the rest of the wizarding world, especially in regards to knowing what was happening.

Option Number Two: I could respond to the owl and go to Diagon Alley myself. I haven’t been there yet - too into my own plans here on the Muggle-side of the world. Plus, even with my very impressive ability to break Gamp’s Law, I didn’t know what the currency was like besides knowing what it was in general. I remembered seeing galleons in the film, but I never saw a sickle, nor a knut. I didn’t like to steal, so I’d never thought about heading to the Leaky Cauldron and pickpocketing anyone for a basic piece. Aside from that, Dumbledick had control of my vault key. I don’t know how happy the Goblins would be with me sauntering in and saying, “Hello, Sir. My name is Hadriana Potter. I’ve been living in the muggle world kept completely in the dark about the wizarding world until quite recently. Albus Dumbledore is the only one who has been able to access my vaults as I don’t have a key of my own. Could you help me, please?”

Actually...that might make them happy, if my memories of fanfiction were anything to go by.

Option Number Three: I could respond by saying “thanks but no thanks” and see what happened. Might hint, in a very unsubtle manner, that since no one in the magical world decided to do anything for me until now, I’d rather stay where I am. Return the favor of being left in the care of such a wonderful, caring family whom I couldn’t bear to be parted from ever since they took me in off their doorstep on that cold November night 10 years ago. You know...after being left alone, in the dark, to freeze with no one around to make sure I would be okay! Oh, what if I added a nice little go fuck yourselves at the end?

I inhaled sharply, the grip on my silverware going unbearably tight as I tried to reign in my temper. The idea that it’d happened in the books was anger-inducing enough when you didn’t have any real attachment to the events outside fiction. But, it was my body, my reality, my existence now. Anger became rage when what were simple words you read on paper, or you watched, detached, on the screen, became your life . Something you’ve experienced before.

I guess I’m just relieved to have my powers so I could be ready for anything this world might throw my way.

Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t go Number One aka the “canon route” because I had promised the owl I would give them my response, and a mouse for their trouble. It would be rather rude to change my mind now. Plus, the concept of a constant influx of countless owls hanging around my house, and throughout the neighborhood, wasn’t exactly appealing.

Alright so idea Number One has been discarded.

I kept eating and turned my focus to Option Two. If I went on my own, I’d have to balance keeping my identity hidden while switching between my adult form and my biological-age form. Most of the shopping could be done with my A-form, but with stuff like Madame Malkin’s and Twilfit and Tattings, I’d need to be in my B-form. Hiding my identity could be easily done through invisibility or a notice-me-not or even a perception bender until I was in a building doing business. It would keep the throng’s eyes off me until necessary.

Simple enough. Mostly.

My problem was Goblins. Or rather, how the hell I was gonna deal with the Goblins. If this was a crack-verse, or I was some high-level identifiable being, I could easily approach them. They’d know who I was and go out of their way to help me and make things easy. If I was, say, Death or Lady Magic, herself, then it would be easy as pie. They’d certainly bend over backwards for me if I was secretly those two.

Instead I was…well, me. There was no hidden master vault filled with riches beyond compare and items of wonder just waiting to be reclaimed. There weren’t even any useful magical creatures ready to assist me on my road to life here.

“I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known,” I sang to myself. Oh good. I now had Boulevard of Broken Dreams playing in my head. It flitted between the Green Day version and Utada Hikaru’s cover because of course my mind couldn’t distinguish which rendition it wanted to listen to more so it just smashed them together in some kind of remix. It wasn’t bad, but it was rather annoying when you wanted to listen to a particular one. I really needed to get it out of me before I got even more distracted.

I used my powers to crank on the different, full-length versions of the bothersome melody trapped in my brain, letting them play through the little CD boombox I had set up in the corner of the kitchen. The volume was low but still loud enough to not overpower my thoughts - like it totally would have if it were still lingering strictly in my own head. I knew this was cheating reality, alongside time and space, but I desperately needed to focus.

Option Number Two definitely felt like a Gryffindor thing to do. It would take some serious courage and an iron will to pull it off. Harry was a Gryffindor, even though the hat wanted to put him in Slytherin, but I wasn’t exactly Harry Potter , was I now? Knowing me, I’d probably end up in Hufflepuff staring at Edward Cullen’s Handsome Ass™ for the next few years...that is until Volde-fuck gets resurrected during the TriWizard Tourney, and he died because we decided to grab the cup at the same time.

Would you please focus, you stupid cunt? My inner voice shouted, rather rudely, if I said so myself.

I glanced up at the letter in the bubble and sent it a glare. “This is your fault,” I told it as I shoved a sausage link into my mouth. Even if the thing was still coming back Negative for compulsion and harmful spells, I’d rather continue blaming my off-track thoughts on it.

Maybe it was better to ponder Option Three since I couldn’t seem to keep my concentration regarding Number Two on track.

Option Three had the most potential, if I was honest. If I were to write back telling them no, someone was going to come and investigate why. At least I freaking hope they did. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t just see the response envelope and assume-

Oh gods. What if they actually were that stupid? Stupid enough to see the envelope, but not actually read the reply within?

Now I had this vision of me sending in my reply, no one reading it, and then everyone realizing only once school had started, that Harry - sorry, Hadriana Potter - wasn’t to be found because no one was paying attention or doing their damn job! People would lose their collective shit at the Sorting Ceremony once my name was called but I wasn’t actually present . Nobody would have spotted a girl bearing a lightning-bolt scar on the train because she wasn’t even on the Hogwarts Express, nor at King’s Cross Station’s Platform 9¾.

I couldn’t help but snort at the vision before finishing my breakfast, determined to go through with plan Number Three. I’d have to cast a couple of charms to make sure I could show proof the letter was received, as well as who’d handled it, and who, if anyone, had read it. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. Right?

Hmmm…

Maybe I should put in the condition that, if they wished to visit, three people, of my choosing, could come and speak with me in order to convince me to attend.

The smile on my lips in that moment, was positively wicked. I knew exactly which three individuals I’d want.

After retrieving the acceptance letter from the bubble holding it, I read it twice just to ensure it was what I’d expected.

It was. Right down to the supplies list and that stupid, stereotypical, pointed hat .

I was feeling a little giddy, though. Oh this was going to be fun!

Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,

I regret to inform you that I will not be able to accept your offer to study at your no doubt illustrious, and highly acclaimed, institution. My living situation is rather complicated and up until this point, I’ve had to follow alternative methods to educate myself. I do not feel as if Hogwarts can enhance my learning experience as, up until receiving this letter, I was under the impression magic did not exist. Furthermore, I do not possess the funds for purchasing the items that will no doubt be only obtainable in a magical forum. Also, I highly doubt the British pound carries over well into wizarding currency.

I thank you for your time.

Sincerest Regards,

H. Potter

One response from me, and now a word from my guardian.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

I am the current guardian of Miss Hadriana Potter, and have been so since her previous living situation became unfitting. I have also provided her an education since she came to live with me at six years of age. As we are both quite happy with the current arrangement, the offer to study at Hogwarts is unnecessary.

If you, however, feel that a visit to speak with us again is warranted, I expect you to do the following:

Owl me your response by July 18th so that we may arrange a date and time convenient to discuss this situation.

Please inform me of the current whereabouts and employment of one, Severus Tobias Snape.

When these things have been done to my satisfaction, as well as one other item, you may meet with Hadriana. I would advise you not to attempt to contact her again and send any further letters to either of us. Given her very unique position in the wizarding world, I must maintain constant vigilance. You understand of course.

Sincerely,

 

...Oh shit. I’d need an alias.

Until now I’ve not needed one. I don’t pay bills. My house was hidden. Any shopping done was paid for in cash so that I’d never have to sign anything. I don’t exactly do anything that requires identification so I didn’t have an ID with a fake name. I’ve been living unseen. A phantom, of sorts.

But now I’ve got to figure out a name.

I twirled the biro between my fingers as I perused my vast mental library of different names I could use. It took me a while as I kept thinking about famous female authors, or comic book characters, or a few female singers I enjoyed listening to in my past life...or lives.

My evil grin returned as I realized I knew just the right one.

Sincerely,

Daniella Radcliffe

No one else would ever get the joke, but I was alright with that. That being said, I wouldn’t even try to stop the giggles and grins if someone called me out on it.

I sealed the two-part reply into an envelope before casting a tracking spell, an ‘identify handler’ charm and a ‘who’s been reading me’ spell. I don’t actually know if these ever existed in canon, or fanon for that matter, so I’d probably just end up saying they’re of my own creation. I enchanted a notepad to write who did what in regards to the letter before I retrieved a mouse for the postal owl, sending it off with my best wishes.

All that was left to do was to wait.

Chapter Text

You’d think I’d have mastered patience by now.

I mean, I’ve freaking lived several lives across different universes with different life experiences, so patience should really be something I’ve got a decent handle on. But I’m also biologically a small child, and we don’t have the greatest track record on waiting for something to happen.

Which is probably why I kept checking my notepad every hour for any change with whatever’s happened to my response letter.

From what the notepad’s recorded, the owl’s delivered it back to Hogwarts only a few hours after I’d sent them off. A couple of days more of silence; no change on who’s handled it. If I had to guess, it might be because Minerva, as well as a few other teachers, are out hand-delivering to muggle borns and muggle-raised students in order to converse with the parents and students in-person.

As much as it didn’t surprise me that I wasn’t deemed worthy of a hand delivered letter since I’m Hadriana Potter , it pissed me off because it shows just how much they all assume I already knew what I need to. The gross arrogance and over – under? – estimation of the situation at hand really pissed me off.

And no, it didn’t count that I actually knew canon because I’m a fucking reality-hopping omnipotent being! That has no bearing on how this mess was handled, and I’m praying I can keep myself from ranting or hexing Albus Dumbledore if I ever met him face-to-face!

Breathe, bitch.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Ever since I gained my freedom, and set up a base of operations in Cokeworth, I’ve been dabbling with the idea of finding Riddle’s horcruxes. Well, the one that resides in Little Hangleton at least. All the others reside in places that fail to be as convenient. The diary is at Malfoy Manor. I believe the necklace is currently at Grimmauld Place and in Kreacher’s possession. The cup should be in the Lestrange vault. The diadem should be in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Nagini isn’t a horcrux yet so there is no reason to worry about her.

Well what about the one that was attached to Hadriana’s body, you ask? What happened to Riddle’s first living horcrux?

Well, after Hadriana’s death, the soul piece was no longer bound to anything. And despite what canon says, you can’t destroy a soul piece just by destroying the object it’s bound to. Apparently, that one fanfic I read was right and we need to perform an exorcism ritual. Or, I need to find a way to get Death to actually talk to me. See what he can tell me; if he can rip them into the Beyond where they belong, that would make this easier.

Right now, the rather pathetic piece of soul belonging to the man formerly known as Tom Riddle, is being held inside a star-shaped crystal around my neck. The soul piece was barely able to function; curled up, making himself as small as possible. Making the motions as if he was breathing, even though he had no body that required it.

I couldn’t tell if he was in shock or just biding his time. Could have been both.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did try to converse with him once. I called him by both the name he hates, and the name he gave himself. Hell, once I called him “Dark Lord” and “Mister Tom A Dildo Lover.” The last one being a perfect anagram to his full name just like his chosen one was.

Each effort ended the same. Absolutely no response.

So, by then I was pretty sure it was because that particular soul piece wasn’t intentionally made; this piece could barely do anything outside of granting it’s host parselmouth capabilities, and a mental link between Harry and Moldy-Vort. It was pitiful.

Much like Tom’s life before he entered Hogwarts, the world seemed to be rather invested in moulding him into the monster he becomes. Now for all my sympathies for the boy who was the very young Tom Riddle, I am not - nor will I ever be - a Voldemort supporter. I do not agree with what he and his followers did. I do not pity them. I do not sympathize with them. If we met in battle, I would gladly fight them and likely decide to put them down like the rabid dogs they were. Their ideology is flawed and bigoted, and I’m pretty sure the fanfics were right when saying murder was the least concerning crime they’ve all committed against those they view as “enemies” or “inferior beings.”

With that said, what I am, is someone who can tell Tom Riddle had the odds stacked against him from the get-go. His conception was the result of rape against his father, whom his mother kept drugged under Amortentia during the duration of their relationship. Due to the potion, coupled with damage done to his DNA due to pureblood inbreeding - because we gotta keep those bloodlines pure ! - he was already slotted with a genetic handicap. Then, Merope Gaunt, Tom’s mother, went and died of a “broken heart” because she was stupid enough to take Tom Riddle Sr. off the love potion. He - like any intelligent person who has undergone horrific trauma should - left her as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. However, this unfortunately ended with Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. with no parents, no familial ties of any sort, and no one to teach or nurture him. So, it’s fair to say that he’d gotten more than a few things stacked against him.

Not only that, after all the trouble he's already gone through, he still ends up at Wool's Orphanage. A place that lacks compassion, and warmth. Things got worse even from there due to  the war; it wasn’t exactly nice to live during World War Ⅱ. To say the environment and people at Wool’s promoted more negative coping mechanisms and outlets for Tom, would be like stating the simple fact that blood is red. It was clear that he wasn’t like all the other little boys and girls, so naturally, he stood out and got picked on. He returned what was due tenfold. The poor boy grew up with no one to explain what his powers were; no one he could confide in. He was alone.

That mountain of tragedy intimidating anyone yet?

Want to know what happened when someone who could help him understand that he’s not some freak or crazy person finally arrived - someone he’d hoped that, because they had answers to his questions, he could be honest with and tell them how he liked hurting people? Tom was met with another kind of distrust and isolation. Dumbledore hadn’t thought how, maybe, he could’ve helped Tom try and find a way to curb Tom’s urges; help find another outlet. Dumbledore didn’t even try to find the root of why making others writhe in pain made Tom smile so bright. 

No. He didn’t do any of that. Dumbledore became a poor excuse of a handler, a warden, a guardian , leaving a young boy, once again, facing a mountain of challenges and problems all on his own.

I know things were different then. You could say it until you’re blue in the face, but the facts are this: Tom Marvolo Riddle was a monster made, not a monster born.

I would never support him. That is, unless we found ourselves in a reality where Dumbledore was actually the evil mastermind behind it all like so many fanfics have written him as. If that happened, I would hope to still have my powers because Dumbledore would certainly wish he were dead long before I actually ended his life.

Coming out of my musings, I went to check the notepad only to find absolutely nothing new has happened. No one has handled the letter, nor has anyone read it. The letter was, apparently, just sitting somewhere, waiting for someone - or something.

A couple of days turned into a week of no change. I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they’re all just really busy helping the muggle-borns and muggle-raised. There was never a headcount in the books or films of exactly how many there were during the Philosopher's Stone. For those curious, I will be calling it the Philosopher’s Stone, even if I was an American in the previous life where my initial introduction was by the name: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone .

I spent my days normally, with only the slightest retraction with my constant vigilance on possible changes. My anxiety came back in a roaring fashion once there was only two days left for my conditions to be met and my reply was still sitting wherever it is in Hogwarts, untouched .

I must admit, I had anticipated them handling any responses as they arrived. Maybe the letters were to be magically separated into piles marked as rejected or accepted so that the staff would know what each letter contained.

But this lack of, well, anything - It was pissing me off.

Was I arrogant in thinking they should’ve been paying more attention? Was it a sense of entitlement if I wanted them to respond so soon? To even take note?

Oh, perfect! Now I was wallowing in self-doubt because no one was paying attention to me. This was never a good thing. Wallowing in self-doubt was going to lead to another round of self-hatred, and pity, and mourning, on what I’ll never have again. Something I’d been able to avoid since my past life where I was trapped and powerless. I didn’t want to return to that particular mindset. As nice as it was to learn all I could about different fandoms, I did not want to go back. I had few friends - no lovers or love interests - before I died a 45 year old virgin living in poverty. I’d consumed a vast amount of pornography, most of which was animated or in fanfiction, but had only myself for company.

I’d think we could all see how much I’d like to avoid repeating that sort of life, if at all possible.

Well that was certainly able to snap me out of my self-doubt.

I wonder if I should go to the Leaky Cauldron and attempt to explore Diagon Alley. I won’t be shopping for school but I could visit Gringotts and see what the Goblins are like in real life. I have a good amount of muggle money and hopefully the exchange rate is decent. Three hundred pounds should be more than enough. Hopefully not too much since I don’t want to accidentally insult the Goblin Nation. Anymore than I would do canon-wise, anyway.

I ignored the urge to cast a compulsion of my own making on the letter through sheer will alone, and instead made plans for if they passed the deadline and no response. They can try and blame me, or rather, my guardian, if I don’t show up in September, but I have copies of my rejection letter; ways to show I’ve been monitoring the progress of my letter, and have more than sufficient skills to protect myself if things were to get aggressive. I’m covered on that front. 

My thoughts and preparations consumed the rest of my afternoon. I gave the notepad one final look before I headed to bed and holy shit! Somebody finally did something while I was brooding!

Both letters were handled by Filius Flitwick. Read by Filius Flitwick.

Both letters were handed off to Minerva McGonagall. Read by Minerva McGonagall.

Both letters handed off to Albus Dumbledore. Read by Albus Dumbledore.

Letter by Daniella Radcliffe handed off to Severus Snape. Read by Severus Snape.

“Looks like he does exist after all,” I mused out loud. No doubt the sullen bastard is going to be so confused and probably angered as to why a stranger wanted to know where he was and where he’s been working. But given how I located his home and the place was devoid of any sign that someone has lived there in years...I was beginning to think we, the readers, were missing a crucial character. Hell, the only reason I chose Cokeworth was because I knew that’s where Spinners End was! I was hoping to track him down, maybe get him to help me out. I don’t know how he might have, but it was worth a shot!

But, like I said, the house hadn’t shown signs of anyone residing there, or receiving visitors, in quite a long time. 

I didn’t break into the house either to see if I could find a clue about Severus, even though I was utterly tempted to do so.

There was no realtor listing so I knew he hadn’t put it up for sale at least on the Muggle side.

How the hell did I miss him all this time?!

Maybe I should have composed letters and stuffed them in his mail slot.

Now my brain was all wired because of this news and I couldn’t bring myself to sleep. Not that my body required slumber to recharge, but dreams are fun and sleep is relaxing. I tend to do it mostly out of habit, a little reminder that hey! you were human, once. Gotta blend in with the natives!

I was back to sitting on the edge of an emotional cliff, wondering what was going to happen next. I should receive an owl tomorrow with their response.

Unless they actually accept my rejection letter and leave me alone.

I doubt they would since Hadriana is currently a major figure in the wizarding world, and they don’t know who Daniella Radcliffe is nor what her qualifications as an educator consisted of.

I really hoped they wouldn’t suddenly show up unannounced. That’d be rude. Not to mention a waste of time. I’ve got more than a few measures installed to deter uninvited guests from knocking on my door. It’s the reason as to why I hadn’t gotten any post before the owl came along. Animals can see and come onto the property, but humans and most other species don’t have that ability. I have no clue if it works on animagus or werewolves, though.

Not that I can contact Remus Lupin and have him come check. Any contact info he might have left to Hadriana or in Lily and James’ things never made it into the Dursley’s possession. There’s also no Remus Lupin in the telephone book.

Oh, Fuck! I could have used my powers and sent him a letter, couldn’t I?

Why didn’t I do that?

Oh, yeah, because I found him insanely attractive in my past life with with rather liberal splashings of erotic fanfiction and even more xxx-rated fantasies rampaging through my hormone-filled brain, that’s why. I didn’t want to make things horribly awkward.

I ended up making myself some hot chocolate because thinking of Remus inspired the need to consume chocolate within me. The hot carafe of the semi-sweet liquid and a good book will help pass the time until I eventually doze off.

And yes, I did make it myself without resorting to the use of my powers, thank you very much.

The sound from the living room stereo filtered back in through my thoughts. What the hell is playing now? It took hardly a moment to focus on the stereo in question. Another song out of its time, I see. This one won't be out for another 10-20 years. It's a good thing I don't have company; it would be hard to explain this. It seems I left the thing on, getting caught up in my thoughts. That, or the blasted thing turned itself on. I've altered more than one music player in this new life, several of them finding themselves in various places around the house. My largest set-up is the one in the living room; that's not to say it was overly ostentatious, but it was fairly large, had good speakers, and was able to play cassettes, CDs, and records. I had another CD boombox in the kitchen, and a cassette player in the bathroom. I was able to fix them all to play music from my past life. Oh, the nostalgia.

Though, I have yet to buy a television set. I'm not sure when, or even if, I will.

I would very much like to turn on the telly and watch all the British comedies I grew up with a life-time ago, or even settle in to watch Doctor Who on BBC. Not through American streaming networks like before.

Unfortunately, the only real reason I have for not getting one also happened to be the same reason the Dursley's didn't live in the United Kingdom any longer...

My carafe was nearly finished by the time the radio started to play some rather depressing overtures. Brad Paisley's Whiskey Lullaby seemed to be the radio's newest mood after playing Lady Antebellum's Need You Now on a loop...without me asking. 

"Oh no you don't. You're not playing that shit tonight," I growled. "I am not in the mood for tears and loneliness right now. You can either play Katy Perry's Wide Awake or just turn yourself off. Your choice."

The stereo was, evidently, not inclined to play Katy's sweet vocals, shutting down in indignation.

Chapter Text

Around noon the next day, a new letter arrived addressed to Daniella Radcliffe, bearing Hogwarts’ wax seal. That was unexpected. The official Hogwarts seal part - not the response letter itself.

I won’t be picking it up with my bare hands this time, however. Summoning the bubble diagnostic shield, I placed the letter within it before heading into the living room where I’d put away last night’s book. Retrieving it, I settled down on the chaise to read. I had a lot of books in this life; I was rather fond of them. Most of them were hardback because I thought they stacked and stood so pretty. Reading also seemed like the only thing people could do in a pre-internet world, so I started collecting at some point. Despite the book in my hand, my mind began to wander, thinking back to Severus Snape.

When first arriving, I had the bright idea of showing up at his home in Cokeworth; it was hard to forget my initial reactions when I had first knocked on the man’s door. The anxiety attack I had then was horrible, and admittedly, I was moderately relieved to have never met him. The more I thought about it, the more incredulous with my own actions I got. What, precisely, was my plan of introduction? To get him to trust me in order to help? What, was I going to say something utterly clever like, “Hello, Sir. Is your name Severus Snape? He was a friend of my mothers and she sent me to find him if I ever needed help.” The man would have called me out instantly. As if that were even conceivably possible. Granted, when, or rather if, in this case, he asked why , exactly, I was looking for help, I would have made it clear that Albus Dumbledore was not to be trusted. And if he asked once more, why that was the case, I would have shown him my proof. In this life, I’ve grown accustomed to walking around in a few forms. My adult form, my child form, and my...other form. The other form was what we gamers might call a ‘hidden skin’.

It’s the way Hadriana looked before I took over her body all those years ago. Aside from the lightning bolt scar on her forehead, she had a burn covering the opposite side of her face that was rather reminiscent of Todoroki Shoto from My Hero Academia, or Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. It rested directly over her left eye. Her ear on that side of her head was mangled, and there were ugly burns all over her lower arms from oil splatters.

It wasn’t pretty.

It was horrible.

Everytime I looked at that form, I saw necrotic holes where bone can be seen from the rot. As you could probably imagine, I didn’t look at it too often because the mere sight of it is agony. I only ever looked when I felt the need to remind myself who, exactly, I took over. This body is - was the Girl-Who-Lived. The supposed “Saviour of the Wizarding World.” The hero everyone toasts drinks to in the pubs. The Hero that fandom said had adventure books written about; the Hero that canon listed in their history books.

I was now her because no one gave enough of a shit to make sure she was safe all these years. Because Albus Fuck-Wad Dumbledore placed trust in blood wards, but didn’t spare a single thought for what the monsters living inside the house would’ve done to hurt Hadriana. Even when McGonagall warned the bastard, saying that they were some of the worst Muggles she’d ever watched, he didn’t look back for a moment.

When I took over, I had to craft a new body instead of using the old one because it was too horrifying to show people, too horrifying to live in.

But I kept the memory of the body as a hidden skin to remind myself of this.

Right then, I desperately wanted to hit something. Or someone. Someone would probably be better.

By now, the new letter was free of any spells and compulsions that may have plagued the parchment. I turned my attention to reading the words within, thankful for the more adequate distraction.

Dear Miss Radcliffe,

Very rarely does a student reject admittance to Hogwarts, so Miss Potter’s response was rather attention grabbing, to say the least.

“Hah! Yeah, it had y’all’s attention so much that nobody noticed it existed for almost two weeks,” I snorted, amused.

We at Hogwarts take our students safety and education rather seriously...

I sputtered, feeling rather indignant. “Bullshit! Because while there’s obviously muggle studies as a subject what do the muggle born and raised kids have to help them learn about the wizarding world? Let’s throw them head first into the water and hope they don’t drown!”

...and as someone who had, at one point, been close with Hadriana’s parents, the knowledge that she is living with someone outside of her relatives, and that her previous arrangements were unfit, concerns me greatly.

“As it should be.” I huffed.

As Headmaster, I would be open to meeting with you both to discuss Hadriana rescinding her rejection, as well as to speak more on her past and recent situations.

“Hm.” Well, shit. I should have realized that might’ve been an option. I was prepared to meet them in the room as either Haddy or Daniella. Not both. Meeting as two separate people in the same room might be hard to do. I couldn’t exactly split myself in two. 

Or could I...? 

Do some kind of Shadow Clone Jutsu when they come visit? That might work.

I am able to visit you the second week of August. Owl me with the time that is most convenient so that we may get things squared away before the start of the term. I can only hope to convince you both that attending Hogwarts is crucial to Hadriana’s future.

Oh, I had no doubt it was “crucial,” but definitely not in the way they think it was.

As for your inquiries of one: Severus Tobias Snape. The name, itself, isn’t exactly common, to say the least. There is a man by that name working here at Hogwarts as a Potions Professor. I do not know if he is the one you are inquiring after, however, so I am sure you understand my reluctance to provide you with his private information, especially without his explicit permission. Perhaps if you were able to explain as to why you require such information, as well as how you’ve come to know his name, I may be able to assist you.

“You pretty much just confirmed that he’s the one I was looking for,” I scoffed. It was like whoever was writing thought that information was a juicy little apple I was starving for. Perhaps that’s what they truly thought.

Owl me soon so that a visit may be arranged.

Sincerest respects,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

I couldn't help but sit there blinking dumbly at the letter, purposely ignoring the parts at the bottom where he listed all his titles. Likely added there just to intimidate Daniella. Or to boast. Probably both. So… the Headmaster himself decided to reply instead of Minerva, hmm? I guess I really did get their attention.

Not like I didn’t want it after all, so I wasn’t exactly worried .

I just needed to make sure that he knew I would only meet with him if he brought Minerva and Snape with him for the visit. I was not interested in meeting him alone. That would be like Superman letting Lex Luthor into the Fortress of Solitude.

I hope there was never a moment in comic history where he willingly did so, otherwise, that comparison just went to shit.

Joker being welcomed into the Batcave, maybe?

I really needed to focus.

I sauntered over to my desk  and removed some paper and a biro to write down my response.

Headmaster Dumbledore,

Thank you for taking time to pen a reply to my letter. Obviously, a man of such impressive titles is very busy, not only do you run a school, but you’re also a high-ranking official in the wizarding world! You must be quite an important figure to have garnered such status!

However, that also makes the tragedy of Hadriana’s relocation and subsequent care even more concerning for you were, as you claim, close with her parents!

It’s rather sad how things can slip through the cracks, isn’t it? Children are so often the biggest victims of negligence, and it is heartbreaking when we find ourselves having been ignorant of strife when we had thought ourselves in a position to know.

 

Okay, dial it down, sweetheart. Though, I suppose, technically, I was trying to insult him in the most sophisticated way I knew.

Monday, July 29th, around 10am would be an ideal meeting time for both Hadriana and I. You, obviously, have our address so there’s no need for me to write it down. However, we insist that Deputy Headmistress McGonagall as well as Professor Snape accompany you to our meeting. Otherwise, I will not be removing the protections on our house and allowing you entry. You may not know who I am, Sir, but your reputation precedes you even without the listing of your awards.

Speaking of Professor Snape, I am more than adequately convinced that the man in your employ is the one I am looking for. It is actually for Hadriana that I am making the inquiries to find him. 

I hope the information I have provided you with on the reasons I am searching for Professor Snape is enough to request his company.

Sincerely,

Daniella Radcliffe

I put the pen down, casting the charm to match the penmanship of the previous letter written by my “guardian” to this new one, before sending the letter off with the postal owl that brought it.

Time to wait again. Lovely.

~OoOoOoO~

In the evening, during dinner, another letter - free of compulsions and dangerous magic - arrived. It was from Dumbldick once more; he seemed to agree with the time and date I specified and seemed rather intrigued that it was Hadriana who inquired about Snape rather than Daniella.

Right, then.

Unless something kicked the world on its head, I should be fine with what I knew about canon. I was just hoping that I could handle things in-person just as well as I’ve envisioned myself doing.

Dumbledore mentioned in his response that, although McGonagall was usually quite busy, both she and Snape were willing to attend the meeting. I didn’t think it would be that easy but, okay!

I sent a quick missive with the postal owl stating that Hadriana and I looked forward to the meeting. This would give me about a week and half to see if I could properly Shadow Clone Jutsu and test out how long it’ll last.

Once again, I knew I was a being that was nigh near omnipotent, but I needed to work things like this out. I was bound to this body. There were bound to be some kind of physical restraints on it.

What was I doing again? Oh yeah, planning on introducing Naruto ninja skills into the Harry Potterverse like a fucking crazy person.

I laughed. “Eh, what the fuck. Let’s do it!” I said, grinning.

Time to get to work!

Chapter Text

Technically, learning Shadow Clone Jutsu wasn’t difficult. Technically.

I mean, it was easy given what I have the capacity to do. Only… It was just so weird seeing another me. Standing across from me. Looking at me. That I could touch.

The second me had transformed into the adult form of, well, me and let me just say: I am one sexy bitch. Definitely got the good genetics in this life!

In case anyone was like, ‘Well why were you so impressed?’ Well, it was because there was seeing yourself in the mirror, and then there was seeing a one-hundred percent, living, flesh-and-blood version of yourself in all your glory.

And no, I was not naked! Get your heads out of the gutter!

It was also very disconcerting because I could feel some kind of connection with my clone, but it wasn’t like being telepathic, or sharing senses. It was difficult to explain.

A part of me thought I was gonna have trouble and end up smashing heads with myself, but Clone-me was actually rather chill. We knew which of us was the original after I performed the spell. The sense of self was there, but it was more like I kind of sectioned a part off?

Did that even make sense?

Anyways, it worked like in Naruto and that was probably a big success. Unfortunately, time felt like it moved much faster than I was comfortable with when that dreaded day arrived.

I got both Hadriana and I dressed after a paper-rock-scissors match to decide who would be the grown up. I won that one. Which, honestly, I preferred during this particular meeting. Although, if someone got it in their head to attack me and grab Hadriana, they were gonna be in for a rude surprise. The situation wasn’t that dire, but I still had lingering paranoia.

I did have a list of questions I’d written down for the meeting. Some of them were relocated to a different list because I didn’t think asking if witches and wizards had a secondary gender like Alpha/Beta/Omega would be appropriate at this point. Maybe a Goblin inheritance test could answer that for me instead.

Also, yes, I did read those types of fics in my last life. And, if anyone cared, I loved them!

I lowered the protection wards against magical snoopers thirty minutes before their timed arrival so they were able to enter my property without problems. The doorbell rang loudly. I took a deep breath before answering the door as Daniella. Hadriana waited patiently upstairs; I told her she could sit in the kitchen, but apparently the bedroom provided a safer environment and made it easier to curb the climbing anxiety. I wasn’t in a position to argue. We were both more than a little on edge.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I opened the door.

All three of the expected guests were there. Dumbledore was standing in front with McGonagall and Severus flanking him on either side. They appeared almost exactly like their movie counterparts. Snape’s hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and he appeared to be younger, but those were the only differences I could see. Maggie Smith also looked a little younger.

I took comfort in the way they appeared. Probably more than I should have.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, “Ah, Ms. Radcliffe, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” I replied. He smiled in a way that could easily be dubbed as grandfatherly. Unfortunately for him, I was not easily taken in by it.

“I am Headmaster Dumbledore. These are my colleagues, Professor Minerva McGonagall,” he gestured to his right and the Professor and I exchanged polite nods, before Dumbledore gestured to his left, “And Professor Severus Snape.”

The man looked like this was the last place he wanted to be and, if I had any grasp of his character, it probably was. Still, he gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.

“Welcome, It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with false pleasantries, stepping aside and motioning them in. Dumbledore led them through and, once they crossed the threshold, I closed the door. 

Great. They were in my house .

This was a terrible idea.

I waved my hand gesturing towards the living room. I cleared my throat, “If you would just take a seat and make yourselves comfortable.” It was an utter shock that my voice stayed steady, especially seeing as I was standing in the same room as Severus Snape, a man with Alan Rickman’s face. I wanted to bolt.

A little secret of mine: in my past life, I didn’t find a lot of people attractive. Or rather, I wasn’t really around a lot of people I thought to be attractive. Like I said before, I was pretty much confined to a solitary life. But there was one day where I did end up interacting with someone I happened to be attracted to. He happened to be a very well known voice actor who played in one of my favorite television series at the time. I was terrified and wanted to run away. Desperately. I didn’t, though, because I was practically stuck to my chair. He found it amusing when one of my companions at the time told him about it.

I doubted Severus Snape would find it so amusing that a strange, seemingly random, woman found him so extraordinarily attractive and wanted to run away because of it. Or, who knew, maybe he would. I heard he was a bit twisted.

Each of them quietly sat down on the plush couch. I was left debating whether or not I should lay some ground rules...

Ah, fuck it.

If they did something unseemly, I’d deal with it then.

“Would anyone like something to drink before I get Hadriana? Water, tea, coffee?” Because lord knows I was going to need something to occupy my mouth while I found my words.

“A pot of tea would be lovely. Thank you, Ms. Radcliff,” Dumbledore affirmed. McGonagall nodded in agreement while Snape said nothing, opting instead to slowly glance about the room, assessing. I looked at him for a few moments before Minerva leaned over and pointedly whispered his name.

Snape looked up, “Tea would be acceptable.”

Right. I huffed, “Just a moment, then.”

I summoned a silver tea set and brewed some Earl Grey while I arranged some cucumber sandwiches cut into fours on a plate. I didn’t eat a large breakfast that morning and Shadow Clone Jutsu burned a lot of energy, apparently. It might be because it was foreign magic that I was introducing into this universe. 

“Let’s just hope no one tries to slip anything into the tea while I collect Hadriana,” I murmured before carrying the tray out into the living room. I placed it on the coffee table listening to McGonagall’s and Dumbledore’s compliments on how I poured like a proper hostess. Dumbledore took his tea with four sugars; McGonagall liked hers with milk and one scoop of sugar, where Professor Snape took his straight. No sugar, nor cream. Yikes.

I idly wondered if it was a protection mechanism. Wouldn’t surprise me. Perhaps he won’t even drink the tea.

Instead of pouring myself a cup, I went upstairs to collect Hadriana.

“We’re attracted to Severus Snape, aren’t we?” She asked me from her perch on the bed. I exhaled with a resigned nod. “Oh god!” She flopped face down onto the bed, whimpering in distress. 

“It’ll be fine,” I said, despite feeling as if I was only fooling myself. “Nothing will happen! The man’s too focused on other things and he’s hung up on Lily. Seriously, the odds are against us. Now let’s go downstairs before they come up with something utterly ridiculous. Last thing we need is a good pot of tea ruined by their meddling.”

Hadriana nodded morosely before we made our way back down to our not-so-pleasant company.

Dumbledore perked up as we entered, “Ah, Hadriana! How lovely to see you, my dear!” He greeted Hadriana as all three of them stood. Hadriana smiled nervously, nodding politely, before her eyes ended up transfixed on Snape. I nudged her towards her seat. She walked to sit in the chair closest to the window, but stopped and dragged the padded ottoman next to my seat instead. The need to be close to each other was very much in effect, it seemed.

I made Hadriana and I our own cups of tea and grabbed a pair of sandwich quarters for the both of us. Naturally, our tea was made the same, so all I needed to do was double the portion. The room was quiet, barring the delicate clink of china. I sat back in my chair before taking a breath. “So,” I started. “Where shall we begin?”

“Well, I suppose It would be ideal to start by asking: How much do you know about magic, Hadriana?” Dumbledore inquired, setting his teacup back down on its saucer.

As an opener, it was a good enough start. Probably.

Hadriana nodded. “I know enough. It protects the house from people who might hurt us,” she said. “And it lets me do things other children wouldn’t be able to.”

Good. Keep it vague.

The conversation following that was increasingly boring. Needless to say, they gave the whole spiel about how Hogwarts was one of the top wizarding schools and it had a long and illustrious history and blah blah blah blah blah...

To be fair, it was a decent sales pitch; I just wasn’t particularly interested in the speech since I already knew all about the place.

“This is all well and good and I’m glad the school has such a profound effect and all,” Hadriana finally said. “But I would actually like my questions answered before making any particular decision. What you’re saying is rather informative, however, it’s the standard home visit speech, isn’t it? You’d say the same thing to all the muggleborn and muggle-raised kids when you showed up with their Hogwarts letters. The only thing you haven’t done yet is try to perform a spell or two.”

McGonagall flushed red with what I assumed was embarrassment, while Dumbledore looked at Hadriana with a blank, calculating expression. Snape was still a hard man to read.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “You would be correct in assuming that this is our standard welcome speech in order to introduce muggle-kin students to the wizarding world. What, might I ask, are the questions you have?”

I pulled out the list of questions we wrote down earlier and a biro as well. Hadriana took a look at the list before clearing her throat, “Well, the first one is: how many students currently attend Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore blinked, “I don’t have exact numbers, but I would say there are about six hundred, perhaps.”

We both nodded before I wrote the number down. Hadriana asked again, “What’s the current curriculum? What kind of classes would I be expected to take?”

“The core classes, which are taught to all students for the next seven years of attendance, are: Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Potions. For first years, we also require students to take a flying class so that students will become well versed at travelling by broom,” Dumbledore recited.

“I teach Transfiguration; have done so for forty years,” McGonagall added proudly, her posture straightening a bit more than it already was. “And Professor Snape, here, teaches Potions. He is one of the Youngest Potions Masters on record and highly regarded. You’ll find most of the staff are.”

I scribbled down the classes listed before asking, “And the school provides all the safety equipment like helmets, pads, and the like?”

“Oh yes! You’ll find that all of the equipment provided to students is up to date and well maintenanced,” Dumbledore said. Unfortunately, my knowledge of the films said otherwise, but without actually going to Hogwarts and taking inventory, I wouldn’t reasonably know differently.

“That’s good. I can’t imagine how bad it would be if a student, especially a first year, had something like a panic attack and fell off their broom without protection.”

“Our hospital wing is fully stocked with supplies and staffed with medi-witches who have decades of field experience and, if something should fall outside their purview, they have easy access to St. Mungo’s in case of emergency,” Dumbledore assured me.

“That’s the regional medical center specializing in magical maladies, yes?” I asked.

“Indeed it is,” McGonagall interjected. “Largest one in Britain, in fact. I believe young Hadriana, here, was born there as well.”

“I see. Would I go there or to the Ministry of Magic to attain a copy of her birth certificate? I’m afraid the Dursley family had no legal papers to help identify Haddy when she was given to them. It’s a miracle she was allowed to attend any kind of school,” I reminisced, frowning. I hated this. “It’s actually one of the reasons I’ve been placed in the role of ‘educator’.”

“Whoever left me on that doorstep didn’t leave me much of anything,” Hadriana commented, her brows furrowing. “For the longest time, I was led to believe that my parents were drunks and died in a car crash.”

“A car crash ?” McGonagall sputtered. “James and Lily Potter died in a car crash? They would have never -!”

“Minerva,” Dumbledore soothed, cutting her off quickly. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

Hadriana scoffed, “No, the Dursley were very insistent that’s what happened. Said it was where I got my scar,” her nose scrunched up in disgust. “But Daniella helped me discover it was a lie. Daniella’s done a lot for me when no one else cared.”

Okay, it seemed we were really going to lay it on thick.

I stroked her hair fondly. I genuinely did care about Hadriana Potter, even if she was me and I was her now; I probably would have done something to rescue her should things have turned out differently. No child should suffer like she did. I looked back to Dumbledore. “So. Birth certificate?”

Dumbledore nodded, taking a sip of his tea before answering, “The Ministry of Magic is where you would go for such an item. However, it shouldn’t be needed should young Hadriana attend Hogwarts.”

“Actually I would still need it if she went. I’m pretty sure if she ever plans on having a passport or having an ID card, she’d need it. Non-magicals tend to be sticklers for that sort of thing.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Dumbledore sighed, clearly reluctant. “However, I’m sure she won’t be leaving the country anytime soon, so getting her birth certificate isn’t a priority. Did you have any more questions?”

I hummed, turning to Snape, “Do you teach every student, through all levels, or are they split up where one teacher is in charge of a different years?” Our eyes locked for a moment as I asked the question. I swallowed, suddenly nervous once more. I swear I did not blush! “It’s just that, if those classes listed are in fact core ones that will be attended throughout 7 years and you have at least six hundred students, the amount of work that would take… Plus, what about if a student has a need for remedial classes or questions about their work?”

“The students are all taught by the same instructor to help promote consistency with their education,” Dumbledore stated in Snape’s stead.

“And none of them have burned out due to over work?” I asked in shock. I knew there had been several unidentified teachers in the films, but I’d just assumed that they might have provided some ease off the workload. I mean, honestly, this was reality! You can’t expect six-hundred plus students to be adequately taught by only a handful of teachers. And it was, in fact, a very uneven teacher-to-student ratio when you considered the bigger picture.

If anyone wondered why Snape was as cuddly as a poison-spined cactus, there was your answer! The poor bastard was insanely over-worked. It was a wonder he wasn’t any worse to the students than he already was.

“Now I owe you a serious apology, Professor Snape,” I declared. “I insistined you come for this visit so I - we - could meet you face-to-face!” His eye twitched just a touch at my words. “If I’d known you were shouldering that much on your own, I wouldn’t have been so pushy. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hadriana nodded aggressively from next to me, “I’ll try and make sure I don’t give you any trouble during my school year, Sir,” she added and we meant it.

“I doubt you will be able to keep that promise, Miss Potter,” he remarked. “Your father was particularly adept at causing trouble.”

“Hadriana is not her father,” I stated firmly. “Nor is she her mother. You would do well to remember that.” 

I wasn’t about to let him pull that shit. James Potter and Co. bullied the hell out of him and, no doubt, a whole bunch of other kids - emotional scars were hard to heal and even fanon Snape had a lot of trouble with it - but I wasn’t about to let him judge me on my biological body’s DNA donators .

He said nothing in return. Dumbledore cleared his throat, “So, I take it you will be attending Hogwarts come September, Hadriana?” Dumbledore looked expectantly at Hadriana who turned to look at me.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Well you do need to learn how to interact with people your own age,” I said with a shrug. “You’d definitely learn new things and you can’t stay in this place for the rest of your life.”

“Well, I suppose I could if I wanted to. It would be very easy to pull off.”

“Yes, but it would get so boring.” I rolled my eyes, marginally exasperated with myself. I glanced at the three adults sitting on my couch, “I suppose you’ll see Hadriana Potter at Hogwarts on September 1st, then.”

“Splendid!” Dumbledore exclaimed, his eyes twinkling as he set his tea cup on the coffee table. He got to his feet first, encouraging everyone else to stand as well.

“Will you be needing any help or instructions on where to go pick up Hadriana’s supplies?” Minerva asked as we headed towards the door.

“To be honest, I know how to get them in theory but we’re not exactly familiar with the magical areas like Diagon Alley,” I sighed. “I suppose we’ll just wander around London, see if we can find the Leaky Cauldron and go from there. Be nice to visit London, I suppose.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Dumbledore stated joyously. “I have someone who would be thrilled to help you with your shopping! I’ll owl you after I speak with him.”

Oh I bet you do, said the scathing voice in my head. If he sent Hagrid with us, it would remove the opportunity to get the inheritance test that would null any access the old goat might’ve had to any of Hadriana’s vaults. Me and my big mouth. This meant that I’d have to plan another trip to London and Gringotts on my own.

I smiled tight, “Well if it’s not too much trouble, I won’t say no.”

“Good! Hagrid’s been excited to meet Hadriana and I’m sure you’ll find him a delightful guide.”

We said our farewells and I shook each of their hands as they left. Snape’s though... his hand lingered just for a second and we briefly locked eyes once more. I swear to god, the man better not be trying to use Legilimency on me. I couldn’t think of any other reason as to why he would have paused though.

I cleared my throat, “Well, have a lovely day. Hadriana shall see you in September,” I said before shutting the door. It was now just me and my clone, who disappeared with a muffled pop, the magic retreating back into me. “ God that man is intense.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I went back into the living room to eat the rest of the sandwiches and drink the leftover tea before banishing the entire set. I read my list of questions, glad to have gotten some answers. I didn’t get to asking about what Hogwarts did if a student had some kind of mobility issue, or how they handled students with disabilities like deafness or blindness, nor did I get to ask about Hogwat’s policy on familiars. I also didn’t get to ask if there was a specific dress code. I wanted to know that one because I planned on wearing bowties instead of regular ties with my uniform.

Why?

Because bowties were cool. Fezzes were also cool, but I didn’t plan on switching the hideously pointy hat for one, despite the fact I’d rather not wear a pointy hat at all .

Hm. So…shopping with Hagrid. That should be an adventure...

Chapter Text

This time around, when I split myself, I chose to be Hadriana if only because I wasn’t sure how it would go if I had my clone posing as Hadriana when acquiring my wand. I wasn’t even sure how well I’d respond to a wand for that matter. A wand was a focus for witches and wizards, but I’ve never had a need for one before. I might occasionally point with a finger if I were messing around, but ninety-five percent of the time, there was no need for a wand; I even had a proficiency in worldless magic, too.

That being said, Ollivander's should certainly be interesting.

One thing I realized was that, if the books had any accurate presence in this life, I’ll be meeting a certain young Malfoy in Madame Malkins.That’ll be a fun first impression. I’ll get to see, and experience, Draco Malfoy’s indoctrinated spewage first hand! That will be incredibly entertaining. I mean, that was not to say it couldn’t happen differently than it had in canon. Or, if I didn’t meet him at all before we got to Hogwarts, events more accurate to the films, then well…

I could only hope I didn’t lose my shit like I did when I watched the films in my past life. I doubt it would go well if I suddenly burst out in peals of giggles while I pointed out various character flaws. That would just be a lovely time with people wondering whether or not I'd gone mad. Which, to be fair to them, I probably was given this whole transmigration situation. Although, I wasn’t sure if Blood Adoption was an actual thing in this world so I didn't know if, on top of everything else, whether or not I ended up inheriting a touch of the Black Family Madness.

I realized that I hadn't seen Hagrid since he went and took Hadriana - and now, by extension, me - to Dumbledore in Surrey all those years ago. I was there that day; watching, unable to do anything while I was incorporeal. She was sleeping the entire time in that ignorant, innocent, blissful sleep of an infant. I watched Hagrid cry as he kissed her little face. I didn't blame him for the lack of warming charm. Hagrid wasn’t the most skilled in magic, but the man was a huge, walking heater so Hadriana wouldn't have been cold while she was all protectively tucked against him.

I could hardly doubt Hagrid's affection for Hadriana. I knew the half-giant's heart was in the right place. He was just not very bright when it came to making sensible choices. Well, maybe in this world he showed a bit more wisdom.

You know, I remember that one Tumblr scenario on how, if the Weasley twins were sorted into Slytherin, or better yet, two different houses, they would ultimately confound absolutely everyone by skillfully switching out the four house ties in one of the greatest identity-pranks Hogwarts would ever see. “That would be fascinating to watch and horrifying to be a part of at the same time,” I said out loud.

Daniella checked the clock for the fourth time, “I miss the internet at times like these,” she stated. “I’m increasingly bored.”

I hummed in agreement, “Well, it’s about 10 years too early for Red-vs-Blue, and nearly 20 for the Youtube Let's Play! crowd. I don’t really want to break out the Game Boy yet...”

Her face scrunched up at that. “It can't be that long for the Youtube crowd could it? And 10 years for Red-vs-Blue and Rooster Teeth? Had to have been a bit longer for them.”

I couldn’t help but share the sentiment. I tried to think on my past life, the future events and the types of entertainment and the like, but it got hard to remember things sometimes – my Harry Potter knowledge was crystal clear and right in the forefront of my memories, but some of the other things liked to slip away into the recesses of my mind to hibernate; or so it seemed, anyway.

It was one of the reasons that, when I got my freedom after taking over Hadriana's body, I made sure to charm all of my music stations to play whatever music I could recall. And the thing about living a solitary life? I knew a lot of music. So I played what I could remember; I didn't want to lose anything. And doing so was surprisingly easy enough to do. Thank you, powers.

I could remember how I used to be able to watch videos and all my favourite movies, but doing so now? It was a challenge. If only for the fact that I didn’t want to bring in technology from the future just to ensure I could safely ensure storing my videos and media. I may be willing to do some things, but I hadn’t quite adopted the: “Fuck everything, I’ll do what I want,” mindset. 

Most of the content I indulged in during my past life had been on Youtube. I wasn’t sure if, or when, Youtube will get created in this world or if all my favorite Youtubers will be around to create content... Will I see the likes of Markiplier, VanossGaming, and Scatsbury again?

“I just hope we survive the 90s,” Daniella sighs. “At least we got the good cartoons. And our last life was born in the same time frame of Harry Potter's life so we can spot the differences of progression well enough.”

I nodded in agreement. It was true. My past self had been born in 1980, but in October instead of July.

I wonder if I could romance Snape. I was mentally old enough, seeing as I’d lived a life and will now be living another. Arguably, though I was physically a child, I was still 45 years old, not counting the last several years as Hadriana. That would make romancing any of my fellow students rather...questionable in principle, and disconcerting to me personally. That was going to be a hard no. I’d feel like some kind of pedophile.

These were the sort of thoughts that haunt me.

“You keep those kinds of thoughts going, we're going to die alone and a virgin again,” my clone chastised.

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “More likely I'll be killed off by Voldemort or his ilk because I did something stupid. Speaking of stupid, what are the odds we're gonna witness Hagrid getting the Philosopher's Stone today? Because I'm tempted to write Quirrel a note questioning, 'Are you sure it's the real thing?' and hiding it in his pocket just as we part ways. Oh, and then during the school year, write things like, 'Is it garlic because your body is rotting away due to the possession?' and 'You've got less soul than a ginger.' or 'Was it worth making a horcrux so many times just to become crazy and make questionable life choices?'”

“This conversation feels a lot less weird when it's you talking to a clone.”

“That's because it can be classified as a legitimate conversation instead of a mental one which is often frowned upon by polite society due to the fact it's technically not me answering my own questions and remarks out loud. I'm speaking to someone else. That someone else just happens to be a magically manifested clone that will disappear back into the ether, the gained experience by said being will be absorbed into me after it’s gone.”

I wasn’t sure if that made sense or not but it didn't matter too much as a heavy knock against the door marked Hagrid’s arrival.

The first thought through my head as I stared at him? Hagrid is very tol boi.

Like, so tall that I doubted he could walk through my house without crouching considerably. Slightly disappointing to know that I'd have to transmogrify the building in case he, or someone of similar stature, came calling. I mean, I knew he was big but I didn't realize my ceilings were that low.

He introduced himself and Daniella introduced us both in turn.

“Sorry I can't come in,” he apologized. “Would have been nice to have a sit down after that journey.”

“There'll be some seats on the train,” Daniella offered helpfully. “I don't think you'll get much rest if we went on the Knight Bus. Unless we plan on apparating?”

“Naw, get all shaken and jerked about if we take that,” he agreed. “And I don't have a license for apparation, I don’t. Oh! Got something for you though, Hardiana! Baked it myself, I did! Words and all!”

He handed me a slightly heavy box holding a pink birthday cake that looked just like it did in the film. I smiled up at him. It really was a sweet gesture; we should be able to eat it once we stop for lunch. It was definitely a little squished, but not in a way that rendered it inedible.

I gave him my thanks and we headed off.

~OoOoOoOoO~

The ride wasn’t much different than it had been the book. Hagrid still pointed out all sorts of things, marveling at muggle tech, grumbling about muggle money - he was, apparently, given plenty of coin to pay for both Daniella and I, as well as himself, in order to take the train. That honestly surprised me. He started knitting once we were comfortably situated. As Hadriana, I pulled out a Game Boy I obtained a while ago because, honestly, fuck it if I was going to give up my previous life as a gamer! I switched out the Tetris cartridge for Super Mario Land. Hagrid looked over at me curiously, eyes widening slightly as the musical notes played from the device in my hands. 

“Blimey, Haddie! What's that?” he asked in awe, his knitting, forgotten in his lap.

“A Game Boy. It’s a muggle gaming device from Japan. They came out about 2 years ago overseas and just recently became available here in the UK,” I explained as I lowered the volume so it didn't bother the other passengers. “You won't see too many of them among the muggles right now, but as the years go by they'll grow in popularity.”

“And what's it do? You said gaming? How's it work?”

Now wasn’t that a loaded question; one I wasn’t even sure how to answer properly. Technical terms were never my strong suit. “I'm not an expert or someone who knows the in and outs, but they create different games and put them on cartridges like these,” I held up the Tetris cartridge for him to see, “and the Game Boy reads the data contained on them it and then translates it, letting you play the game. This is just a portable version of a larger gaming console.”

Hagrid looked both amazed and horrendously confused. “What's a gaming console?”

“It's basically a specially made box that contains a lot of electronic components that read much larger versions of those cartridges that you can play even more superior games on. You attach it to a muggle television,” Daniella explained patiently. “Have you ever visited an arcade, Hagrid?” 

He shook his head dumbly. “Naw, don't get out much among muggle folk,” he confessed. “Tend to draw a lot of looks. An’ Hogwarts keeps me busy.”

“So are you normally part of the group staff that takse muggleborn and muggle-raised students to Diagon Alley?” I asked casually.

Hagrid smiled, puffing up a bit proudly. “Naw! I’m just the groundskeeper. This 'ere's a special occasion,” he stated. “Normally you'd get one of the teachers to do it, but Headmaster Dumbledore thought you'd need a special escort given who you are. Everyone's going to be so excited when they see you after being secluded all these years!”

“I imagine you were pretty surprised finding out Haddie wasn't where you'd left her all those years ago when Dumbledore asked you to come show us about,” Daniella said.

“A bit, yeah.” Hagrid's tone was...off. It was suspicious and guarded. It was like he was suddenly facing someone he was warned against; told not to trust and to handle with care. Interesting. I wonder what Dumbledick said to him. Hagrid turned his attention back to his knitting.

I was torn between letting the silence hang or keeping the running dialogue. Hagrid seemed far more open and friendly with me as a child, which he was meant to be, but I needed information so...

“Have you been a groundskeeper at Hogwarts for a long time, Hagrid?” I asked.

“Aye. Been there for decades. Was there when your parents attended, I was. Good people, they were. Yer father and his friends loved playing pranks and yer mother was a clever witch, she was. Kind, too. You've got ‘er eyes, you know? Shame what happened to them. They were good people. True Gryffindors, they were. ‘Course you'll be going to Gryffindor, if yer anything like them! Potters are always Gryffindors.”

Unfortunately, If canon stayed true, I was quite aware of the “pranks” my father and his friends played back in their school days. Not like I'd let Hagrid know that. Ah, and it seemed to have started: attempts to push me towards the House of Lions, develop a bias and connection with the house. We've just started the journey; this was going to get old fast.

“I didn't attend Hogwarts,” Daniella began. “And we didn't get much of an explanation about it during the meeting with Dumbledore, Professor MacGonagall, and Professor Snape.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Hagrid corrected automatically. “You always gotta be sure to call him Headmaster Dumbledore. You gotta show him proper respect, you do.”

Hello, warning bells. Nice of you to go off.

“Right,” Daniella replied slowly. “Well, Headmaster Dumbledore didn't really give us much of an overview of the school aside from the general overview. He didn't really discuss the houses.”

“Didn't need to if Hadriana's anything like her folks,” the half-giant stated. He was back to being guarded and on edge. “Potters are brave folk, they are. Good wizards. You'd never find a bad wizard in there. Not like Slytherin House. Nothing but dark wizards come from there.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Chapter Text

After what might have been the most awkward train ride ever, we finally reached London. From there, we went to Charing Cross Road. As we made our way, I started to wonder what other places specifically for Wizards and Witches within England. In canon, England only had Carkitt Markett, Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and Horizant Alley. Fanon always took creative liberty in making up places in order to expand because obviously, there weren’t many in canon.

I still believed that Horizant Alley sounded like it should have essentially been the Red Light district of the Wizarding world where all the fun adult stores, brothels, etc, were. Get it? Because, you know, horizontal mambo?

…No?

Geez it was lonely in here sometimes.

I sighed, “Hagrid?” He looked at me expectantly. “Are there many other areas for Wizards to go shopping and the like hidden from non-magicals?”

“Don't really wander about much outside Hogwarts,” he said. He paused to think for a moment. “But the four main ones I know of is Carkitt Market which you saw the sign for while we were leaving the station. Diagon Alley, where we're headed to pick up your supplies. Horizant Alley, where ye can find similar businesses to the ones on Diagon plus a few others. And then there's Knockturn.”

“I remember reading about that place,” Daniella commented. “It's where you'll find more of the shadier businesses, yes?”

Hagrid bristled. “Haddy won't be going anywhere close to that place,” he snapped. “Only Dark Wizards in that place! The most unsavory of folks and items are there! You won't be taking her, no you won’t!”

Both Daniella and I stopped walking just to stare at the half-giant. No one said jack shit about me going there. We were just discussing the different alleyways. And second of all: no matter how much I liked Hagrid in canon, he was NOT going to yell at me or my “guardian” nor was he going to dictate where we did or did not go!

Hagrid stopped a couple steps after we did, looking back. He saw our expressions which, given how I was feeling, were probably the same one. It wasn’t hard for me to forget that since “Daniella” was just me as an adult, we were going to react the same way. It was probably really disconcerting to see the same expression just on different aged faces.

Which now that I thought about it... were people going to pick up on that? How Daniella looks a hell of a lot like Hadriana? The only thing the clone didn't have was the lichen-burgh scar which wasn’t strikingly visible any more after the whole I had to regrow my body after I took over when Hadriana died at six years old thing.

I did cover that, right? The whole ‘Hadriana Potter is actually dead and I'm just basically living in her body’? I did tell you guys that, right?

Wait, who am I talking to?!

Focus back on Hagrid, bitch!

“I shouldn't‘ve said that,” he said, shaking his head, adopting a rather upset look. “I should not have said that?”

“No, you shouldn't have,” Daniella stated, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Hah! Take it away, clone-me!

Taking my hand - because lord knew I needed the grounding - Daneilla walked with me until she was face-to, well, chest- with Hagrid. She then crooked her finger at him, motioning for him to lean forward. He did, his expression wary.

“When we stop for lunch, we are going to have a nice little chat about what exactly Headmaster Dumbledore told you about me and why you , Rubeus Hagrid, are treating me like I'm a threat to the girl I've been taking care of and protecting for the last five years while no one, including the Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore, gave a damn enough to check in on her.”

I was glad to say that I looked rather frightening as I watched Daniella handle Hagrid. I’d always thought that if I were to act like I just did to the towering half-giant, I would’ve looked absolutely ridiculous to anyone watching. But I didn't. I actually looked... really cool!

Hang on. If Daniella was the clone, but not the controlling person, did that really count as me looking cool?

Oh lovely. Now I was having an existential philosophical crisis. I just did something completely badass but it technically wasn’t me. How depressing.

The very subdued, “Yes ma'am,” Hagrid gave in response didn't really do anything to quell my discontent at the situation, however. The words Daniella whispered to me a moment later, “Remember, you get to see it and experience this from my perspective after we get home,” did help offset the cloud of anxiety and various other feelings I couldn’t quite put a name to. I couldn’t help but wonder then how much anxiety was coursing through her while she was busy helping me .

We made it to the Leaky after walking a ways in heavy silence. Hagrid had the air of a kicked puppy until we crossed the pub’s threshold. It seems the pub’s pleasant atmosphere was enough to boost his spirits. I kind of wanted to linger out in front so that I could take a good look at the building. Just to take in the sight of it. I'd have to come back and do that another time. Maybe I could even figure out what books they were selling at that bookshop next to the L.C.

The Leaky Cauldron was amazing on the inside; I knew me and Daniella shared twin expressions of awe. In my past life, I was never in a good place, so when they opened the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park, I never got to go. I just ended up immersing myself in pictures and photos of the place. Even the menus.

Yeah. That's right. I stalked the menus. I stalked a lot of stuff involving Harry Potter before I died. Don't judge me.

The real - and I still couldn't believe it was real! - Leaky Cauldron was just as quaint as it was in the films. It looked exactly the same right down to the chipped and worn stone work in the ceilings, and the dim lighting. I was just a little nervous because, although the cracks in the walls gave it character, that grown up in me kept screaming, “Foundation issues! Foundation issues! We need a construction crew in here before everyone dies because the building fell down on us!”

I was pulled from my musings as someone called out to Hagrid. I recognized who it was supposed to be once he asked Hagrid if we wanted “the usual.” When I looked in the voice's direction, I was stunned speechless. That...was not the man who played Tom, the Leaky Cauldron’s bartender, in any of the films.

This person looked suspiciously like Graham Crowden, a man who played a very different Tom from a very different British series, one that I personally adored, called Waiting for God .

What the fudgecrackers was going on?!

Before now, I noted how everyone looked mostly like their movie counterparts; sometimes things were different, but most of the time, they were basically the same. But this - this was all new casting right here!

My brain had yet to wrap itself around this new development before Hagrid responded, “Can't today, Tom! I'm on Hogwarts business.”

Well, at least he didn't say my name.

He gently rubbed my head instead of patting my shoulder but I could have sworn the action was deliberate as it brushed my banges to the side enough to reveal part of my pale scar. How anyone could’ve seen it given the low lighting of the pub was beyond me. Maybe this was all a set up? But if it was a set up, that would mean Hagrid would’ve been in on it from the start. It was possible that he wasn’t in on it...the problem was, part of me felt he could be innocent in all of this, and the other part of me screamed not to trust anything. My instincts were at war, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the outcome.

Which was not good for one's tummy or nerves, in case you were wondering.

By the way, I couldn’t help but be confused with the whole prophecy thing. In my past life, canon had the prophecy for Harry as the Boy-Who-Lived, son of James and Lily Potter. But in this life, this version of canon, since Hadriana was the Girl-Who-Lived, daughter of James and Lily Potter, what kind of effect does it have on running canon? What else was different? Did the prophecy itself change?

Come to think of it, there was a whole lot I didn't know about this universe, even with my knowledge of canon. I refused to accept the blame for that!

A creaky old woman in a tweed hat extending her hand expectantly and said, “Doris Crockford, Miss Potter! It's a pleasure to meet you at last!”

Oh right. People want to meet me and shake my hand.

Oh god help me!

I put on my best smile and shook hands with a bunch of witches and wizards who, despite telling me their names, I would never remember. 

Oh, joy! There was Professor Quirrell. The man with a horribly fake stutter that essentially mocked people with a legitimate speech impediment. At least he looked the same as he did in the movies. Though, the skin under his eyes was a bit dark, but that could’ve just been the shadows cast by the poor lighting.

I was gonna have fun with him...

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Quirrel,” I told him as he shook my hand. Definitely not possessed yet, it seemed. “Your turban is lovely, Sir!”

“Th-thank you, M-Miss P-Potter,” he stated, and for a moment he actually looked pleased with my compliment. “I-it was a g-gift from an African Prince. D-dealt with a p-par-particularly unpleasant vampire! B-but it's nothing compared to when you d-de-defeated You- Know-Who!”

“Oh you mean the Dark Man! My guardian talked to me all about him!”

That seemed to set him, and several other eavesdroppers, curiosity ablaze. “D-Di-Did they now?”

“Yes. I did,” said Daniella. Suddenly the entire room seemed to realize she was there. She took me by the hand while casting a pleasant smile to Quirrell. “Haddy tends to get confused about how she, as an infant, was able to defeat someone even Albus Dumbledore wasn't able to put in his place. Tell me, Professor, in your line of work, as a person who aims to teach about defending oneself against the Dark Arts and is very well traveled in order to research, have you ever come across anything similar to such an anomaly?”

“I haven't. N-no,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously. “Although, I'm s-sure there are o-other accounts t-that r-remain und-d-discovered.”

“It's very true. The world is a large place,” Daniella agreed. “You never know what lies buried, waiting to be found. Or what shades of the past linger for us to speak with.” She turned to look at me. “Ready to go, Haddy? Those school supplies aren't going to buy themselves and I'm going to be hungry soon!”

“Yes!” I replied. I would do anything to get out from under everyone's gaze. Especially since a few people were sending rather scathing looks towards Daniella. 

“Good day, Professor Quirrell!” I called as we left.

We headed towards the back of the pub and I wondered silently if I gave a few too many hints. It wouldn't do anyone any good for Quirrell to be suspicious of my clone and I. Either way, it was interesting to put my theory to rest. Or as “at rest” as it could be. I’d been hoping that the Quirrell of this universe had yet to be possessed. Otherwise, I was sure that shaking my hand would have set off the blood protections from Lily's sacrifice. Although, now that I think about it...shit. I have no idea if those protections actually were still around since the real Hadriana was killed, and I took over her battered body. I suppose the theory wasn’t so proven after all.

Oh man... Some time over the school year, I'll have to touch him somehow, or wait until the confrontation in the Chamber of Erised.

Ducking Christmas on a shoopuf cracker!

“T’wasn’t a nice thing back there,” Hagrid stated, his irritation from earlier seemingly back in full force. “Makin' it seem like what Hadriana’d done wasn't special.”

“The only reason Haddy is alive is because Lily Potter enacted a special protection spell using the complete sacrifice of her life force and magic which activated when Voldemort,“ Hagrid flinched, ”killed her. The fact that everyone is claiming it was Haddy's intentional actions on slaying the latest Dark Lord to have appeared on British soil says something very detrimental on the thinking abilities of the populace.”

Hagrid's beard bristled and it looked like he was, in some small way, torn over with what he was hearing. But the aggravation was still too great to let him accept that I, or in this case, Daniella, was right. We really didn’t have time for this. I needed to get him focused back on the trip at hand. I cleared my throat, interrupting whatever the half-giant was about to say. “Can we not fight right now? I wanna get some shopping done and eat lunch! That birthday cake is taunting me.”

Apparently, I, as a child, had some kind of magical sway with the man because his dark mood lightened considerably under my scrutiny. “Right, sorry, Hadriana. Stand back!”

Three up, two across and tap 3 times. So we were entering via book method rather than the rhythmic sequence of the movies. Good to know.

As the wall parted and the entryway showed itself, Hagrid uttered those four precious words:

“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

It took everything I had within me to not squeal in excitement.

Chapter Text

Diagon Alley was...I couldn’t seem to find the right words to describe it. There were so many that could fit, yet they wouldn’t be enough.

And this place was real .

It was so, so real and I was here, standing within it. I never got to visit the theme park recreation in my last life - I only had the movies, pictures and YouTube videos to immerse myself in - yet here I was now.

Saying it was magical was such a giggle-inducing cliche for it. There were so many people that, if I weren't so enamoured with being there, in the real Diagon Alley , I would be fighting a mounting anxiety attack. I clutched Daniella's hand just a bit tighter; the support it gave me, even though it was my own fucking clone, helped me immensely to stay grounded.

Each store-front was real and their doorways lead into real shops rather than select facsimiles that only pretended to be real. 

Hagrid being so incredibly massive helped with navigation as it was damn near impossible to lose him in the throng. I heard Daniella mutter from beside me, “This is amazing!” 

I nodded aggressively. It was beautiful and alien and a dream come true. I recognized many of the different shops Hagrid pointed out; I made a vow right then and there to visit every last one no matter what. If I had to come back every day until school started, I would.

Gringotts was as beautifully looming and lopsided as it had been in the movies and models. White stone dominated the building, a visible difference compared to the much darker-coloured spaces close to it. I took a minute to admire it before I imagined a dragon roosting on top of it, eyeing the people below and every so often letting out a puff of flame and smoke. The guardian of the Wizarding financial world.

Of course this reminded me of the dragon trapped miles below the ground under our feet. Chained and alone.

A fissure of anger pierced through the awe and wonder.

“Come on, you two,” Hagrid called, knocking me from my musings. “We've got important business and lots to do before the day is done!”

Right. Let's do this.

The goblins looked every bit like their movie selves, though I tried hard to not stare; It was rude. I could have sworn that something within me was saying those sharp eyes of theirs lingered on Daniella; it was the same inner-voice that swore Hagrid had purposefully brushed my bangs aside to show off my scar. But this seemed so...weird. Why would they be looking at her? I mean, alright, so she wasn’t dressed like all of the other witches around her as she was wearing muggle clothing rather than robes, but it shouldn’t’ve caught their eyes so thoroughly. I filed the moment away, hoping desperately that nothing would come of it. 

We walked up to a free Goblin. Hagrid quickly told the Goblin that they were there to withdraw money from my vault. The goblin leaned over the counter and looked down at me; their sharp eyes were assessing as if they were making some kind of preliminary observance for a report. 

“Ah, Miss Potter, is it? Interesting.”

Okay, that was new. The Goblin drawled, “And does the young Lady in question have her key?”

I was about to reply when, of course, Hagrid stated that he had the key before rummaging through his coat pockets. Daniella, the Goblin teller and I just stared at him, seemingly with the same expressions. The teller looked ready to fume; It was doubtful that such a look was normal. He genuinely looked angered. Luckily, Hagrid wasn't depositing moldy dog biscuits and other knick knacks on the desk as he searched. He finally found it, presenting it to the Goblin; the golden key looked ridiculously small compared to the massive size of Hagrid's hand. The teller looked it over and nodded before accepting it.

I had a feeling I was not getting that key back even though it was technically mine. I felt another pang of irritation.

Hagrid, for some reason, even though he didn't trust Daniella and this was a major security risk, decided to still deal with the whole “letter given to him by Dumbledore involving what I could only assume to be the retrieval of the Philosopher's Stone” in full view of both me and my clone. Did Dumbledore just tell him to ignore the potential risk of an unknown witness to get it done? I didn't like it because I knew how I felt about it in my old life. Sowing the seeds of a plan. Doing something secretive in front of a no doubt curious child who would remember this happening when later events occur...

I didn't like it.

I didn't like it at all.

The cart ride was fun though. It was like an amazing roller-coaster ride through the underground caverns. There were several beautiful underground cave systems back in the states but the only one I ever got to visit was called Ruby Falls. There were also a handful of VR rail rides through caverns and caves that I got to traipse around in. This trip on the goblin carts was very much like coasting through those places, the sight of the rocks and the wind whipping over my face was so thrilling! I was glad my glasses didn't fall off, though.

They were actually fake lenses, but I liked how I looked in them. And who was I to screw with Harry Potter’s iconic look, even if Harry was actually Hadriana? Plus they acted a bit more like protective goggles in situations like this.

We slowed down to a stop and Griphook called out, “Vault 687, Potter Trust Vault.”

There were apparently screeching tires in my brain as I tried to comprehend what I just heard; I looked over to Daniella to confirm I wasn't alone. She looked at me wide-eyed and nodded.

So I guess we could claim fanon-confirmed.

But this raised other questions. When, or could , I access the actual Potter vaults? Were they even still accessible? Why and how did Dumbledore have the key that only gave me entrance to the trust vault? Why did the goblins even let him have my key in the first place instead of putting all my vaults - no, sorry, Hadriana 's vaults - on lock-down until she came to the bank?

Once again, my brain was screaming conspiracies and my trip into this world was being ruined by my very adult mind's desire to question everything . I swear it wasn't this bad in my last life. I also kept freaking saying mine/me/I when I talked of things that specifically involved Original-Hadriana. I constantly forgot that I wasn’t her. I only possessed her formerly-dead body, and regrew it until it was perfect again. Poor girl's soul had gone off into the ether, hopefully with her parents.

I was just a freaking squatter in a body that wasn’t mine.

Hello, Depression, my old friend. So nice to see your ugly mug again.

Hagrid, of course, took my silent staring as awe at the sight of the wizarding coins in front of me. “James and Lily left you a right and proper nest egg,” he said proudly. Why was he so proud? “That should be more than enough to get you settled into school, indeed! Maybe yer whole life if you spend it wisely.”

Daniella sniffed, “Given the fact this is the trust vault and not the actual family vault, Hagrid, I think your statement is really undermining the situation.”

He looked at Daniella, suspicion twisting on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Hagrid, this is the trust vault. It's set up to pay for Hadriana's upkeep and bills through her childhood until she either reaches the age of majority or she fulfills the requirements for whatever was put in place to access the actual Potter vault. All this is just deposited from the main vaults until that time. Is that about right, Ser Griphook?”

The goblin nodded, looking rather pleased. “That's the bare bones of it, Miss.”

Hagrid puffed out his cheeks in irritation. “But Professor Dumbledore said I was s'posed to take you to the vault! He gave me the key! 'E never said nothin' about a trust vault!”

“Why did he have my key anyway?” I asked Hagrid. “He didn't say a word about it during our meeting, nor did he mention I would even need it. And Daniella told him she'd never been here so if he'd given it to me then we still wouldn't have come here without you to guide us.”

“Headmaster was just trying to keep it safe, I expect,” the half-giant replied, to which Daniella shot him a look. “That would mean either Hadriana wasn't to be trusted with her own money or he just completely ignored the statement neither I nor Haddy had been here before now. Which one are you going with?”

Hagrid was getting angry again. Griphook looked like he was torn between irritation at how we were wasting his time, and joy as he watched two people argue. I wondered if the Goblins in this universe were filled with delight at listening to someone quote-unquote “badmouth” Dumbledore and question him so openly.

Better diffuse the situation.

“Do we have a bag or pouch or something I can put my money in?”

Griphook entered the vault with me and turned to the wall where there were a total of three little bags with different cloth designs hanging up on some hooks. “Most trust vaults have pouches ready to use near the door. Standard procedure, Miss Potter. They're twice as big on the inside but you shouldn't need to fill them completely.”

“Well that's helpful and convenient. Thank you, Ser Griphook.”

He nodded as I grabbed one of the bags; it was purple with a soft iridescent shine, a gold rope and clasp fastening finishing it off. It was absolutely beautiful and I loved it. “Pouches are charmed with an anti-theft spell so if it gets stolen it will be sent back to the vault and our people will be notified,” Griphook explained as I looked at my new little purse. I looked at him and smiled. “Brilliant! Even if the thief gets away with my money, I'd hate to lose such a beautiful keepsake!”

“Is that real gold?” Daniella asked as I showed it to her from the doorway. Griphook eyed it for a second. “I believe the rope strap is spun gold fibers but the closing mechanism is Goblin silver reflecting the light from the rope, Ma'am.”

HOLY SHIT!

“I don't know if I should take this,” I declared, looking at Griphook. “Goblin silver is... it's precious, isn't it? This would make it incredibly special and had to have been crafted by some of the most amazing metal workers! I can't wear something that precious for an everyday task like shopping!”

“Blimey, Hadriana, you don't need to get so wound up over it. I'm sure the goblins don't mind! It's a real pretty pocketbook but I'm sure yer just being silly.”

“I don't know. Am I being silly, Ser Griphook?”

The goblin looked at the pouch, then at me. His eyes stared at me sharply again; a likelihood he was accessing me. “The pouches are all designed and crafted when a family opens a trust vault from the main vault. The Goblins involved use our special silver as part of the process. It's our way of blessing the new event. I don't think you're being silly, Miss Potter. I'm sure my superiors would find it entertaining to know a young wix actually grasped how important the use of our silver in such an ordinary bag is.”

“Well as long as I made someone smile, I guess,” I declared, grinning, before turning around and starting to put money in the bag. I suddenly found myself wishing I had something like a bank card or a money slip that worked like cheques connected to my vault so I wouldn't have to lug all this around. Or spend time counting it to make sure I have enough in my bag at all times.

“Daniella, can you help me count?”

My clone nodded and entered the vault. “What amount are we going for?” she asked me.

I thought about it for a moment, “I don't know if we'll get the key after this so I'm guessing 250, 100...100?”

She blinked, “Will it fit that much?”

My face scrunched up in concern. “Get the galleons first then go from there?”

She nodded, “Okay.”

It took a bit of time but we managed to get a nice bit of coins for shopping. I wished I had a bag connected to hammer space or like Mary Poppins bag in miniature form. If I did, It would make everything far simpler. I was pretty sure I could make one, I was not really worried about that. I just would like to see what they have on the market and how much the cost would be before I started such a project.

Griphook tried to hand me my vault key after the door locked behind us after we finished, but Hagrid took it instead. “Hagrid, shouldn't I be getting that? I mean, it's my key.”

“Professor Dumbledore made me swear I'd give it back to him when we were done today. Sorry, Hadriana. But I'm sure he'll give it to you when you get to Hogwarts! He's probably just wanting to make sure it's safe and sound.”

Oh I was not happy and Hagrid picked up on that. “Don't be like that,” he pleaded. “It's nothing bad! He's just looking out for you is all! Albus Dumbledore is a fine man and he wouldn't do anything without there being good reason.”

I wanted to freaking throw a fit right then but instead I just stomped back to the cart with Daniella following behind before crossing my arms in front of my chest. That old bastard wasn't going to be in control of what’s mine for much longer. I don't care what I have to do, this shit wasn't going to continue for long.

We sailed down the caverns again to Vault 713. Hagrid looked like he was going to be sick by the end of all this and I was praying he didn't vomit. This man would not do well at an amusement park, which was a pity because I would have liked to take him to one sometime. Just for the experience. Actually there were several people in this universe I'd love to take to an amusement park. Mister Weasley was at the top of that list.

We coasted to a stop in front of 713 and stood back a little ways as Griphook ran his long finger on the front of the door; I listened to the telltale sound of metal locks unfastening before the door essentially melted away with a hiss and green smoke, just like it did in the book. “If anyone else tried to unlock this, they'd be sucked into the door and trapped inside it,” Griphook explained.

“Bravo to Goblin ingenuity,” Daniella complimented. “Would they live in perpetual agony until someone came to check? Or would the process kill them?”

“They'd be in a state between life and death until extraction,” Griphook replied. “Pain beyond words and death would be preferable should they live after their... rescue.”

So there were people essentially ending up like Han Solo trapped in carbonite at the end of Empire Strikes Back . No, it was more like some kind of horrific parody of that one bit from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure where the Pillar Men were on display and that one dude got sucked inside it and eaten.

I had a very well rounded media consumption in my past life, if you couldn’t tell. Except for horror films. I did not like horror films. I still do not like horror films. I like horror games, though. Mostly. Fatal Frame was a freaking awesome series and the ghosts were fucking terrifying. Never play that series in the dark. Unless you have a cheat device, then go for it.

Why was I giving advice to invisible people again?

I watched Hagrid gather the Philosopher's Stone in it's plain, unassuming packaging and store it in one of his jacket’s inner pockets. “Best not to mention this to anyone, okay, Hadriana?” he asked me quietly while casting a suspicious glance towards Daniella. She stared right back at him and I was starting to realize that I wasn’t very fond of Hagrid. He kept giving my adult-self bad looks and treating her like she'd done something horrible. And then there was the blatant mindlessness that came with worshipping the ground Dumbledore walked on. Never questioning.

“Neither I nor Hadriana have any interest in whatever it was Headmaster Dumbledore sent you to collect from this vault, Hagrid,” Daniella assured him, her cold smile returning to the forefront. “I just hope he knows what he's doing and it doesn't end up putting the children in danger. Now let's get out of here before too much time flies by and we skip lunch and head straight to dinner.”

She took my hand and we all got back into the cart. The ride back to the bank’s Main Hall was very tense despite the roller coaster-induced feelings.

A Goblin I didn't know approached us and handed Daniella an envelope. “Message for you, Miss,” he said before walking off. Daniella looked at the cream coloured envelope with gold filigree around the edges in surprise. What in the hell? She began to open it as I opened my mouth to ask her what it was but Hagrid beat me to it.

“What's that?”

Daniella shot him a frosty glare, halting her actions. “None of your business,” she stated. “Nor is it Dumbledore's. Not that that seems to make a difference.” That last bit was muttered under her breath and she looked at me, stuffing the envelope in her bag. “You ready to go do your first-time Wizarding world shopping?”

“Yup! Let's go!” I held my hand out for her to take. As we left the bank, Hagrid excused himself, promising he'd be back in a bit. The nausea from the cart ride seemed to finally hit him in full force and, much like in the books, he needed a pick-me-up to settle his stomach. When we parted ways, Daniella and I headed over to the first place on my list.

A sudden sense of foreboding hit me as I stood in front of Madame Malkin's. This was it. This was where I was gonna have my first meeting with Draco Malfoy.

“We can do this,” Daniella said; although, I could barely hear her over the blood pounding in my ears. I felt her hands on my shoulders. “If we can get through our meeting with Severus Snape, we can handle an eleven year old Draco Malfoy.”

“And besides, I didn't think he was cute until I got older and read fanfiction,” I added. “I can do this.”

I could do this.

I could do this.

…

Maybe Flourish and Blotts first?

Chapter Text

I would have loved to claim that Daniella and I did turn around and go to Flourish and Blotts, or that we made our way to the other places I actually should have headed to first: Carkitt Market and the shop they sold trunks and bags. Or how I grew a backbone, took a deep breath, and then entered Madame Malkin's and had the dreaded first conversation with Draco Malfoy.

Except none of those things happened.

As we were standing there in all our nervous glory, the Malfoy family exited the shop. The door magically opened on it's own (because it would be far too mundane for the door to open any other way) and out they came. They looked a lot less... menacing than I thought they might.

Once again, they appeared to look exactly the same as their movie counterparts, just a few minor differences here and there, but they were pretty much their movie adaptations.

Which meant Lucius Malfoy, who was played by Jason Issacs, was giving off some seriously sexy Goblin King Jareth vibes.

I was just glad my clone and I had the sense to step out of the way as they were coming out. That would have been really awkward otherwise. We weren’t exactly dressed like the standard wizarding folk, either and my canon/fanon mind was already primed to be sneered and looked down at.

Another thing that didn't happen...

In fact, after his family cleared the shop's entryway, it looked like Lucius was keeping the door open for us to go through. Not intending to linger under his gaze for long, we quickly said thank you and went inside. The door closed behind us and thus that was the entirety of our first interaction with the Malfoy family.

Which...was pretty much nothing at all.

You could imagine how disappointed I was with that. Sure, I was nervous AF but still, I had wanted to at least try to talk to Draco. Get a feel for him, as it were. Although, being a girl could have changed how the Book’s canon dialogue might have actually gone. Who knew how Draco might have conversed with a girl instead of a boy.

The woman who I assumed was Madame Malkin - because I didn't recall seeing her in the films, but we did get a decent description in the first book - greeted us. “Hogwarts, dear?” she asked. I nodded, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Get up on the stool and we'll get you fitted,” she instructed, taking the tape measure from around her neck and into her hands, measuring me; a parchment and quill hovered in the air around her, ready to take any notes she needed.. “We'll be done in no time,” she assured me.

I nodded. “Is our uniform really just three robes, a pointy hat, some dragonhide gloves, and a winter cloak...?” I asked her after she slipped one of the fitting robes over my head.

“Muggle born?” She asked.

I shook my head. “My parents died in the last war and I've been raised away from the magical world since then,” I explained. “Muggle school uniforms have a lot more required items.”

“Many of the non-magicals who enter my shop have said similar things over the years,” Madame Malkin said, pinning my hem. “It's only been within the last ten years the uniform has been whittled down to something so small. It used to have a lot more items on the list but changes were made – possibly to help aid the poorer or scholarship students. Not that it helps my business any.”

“I can imagine,” Daniella agreed. “Looks like you're not going to get to see if you can have bowties instead of regular school ties after all, Squirt.”

“Were you two interested in a more standard school uniform?”

I nodded. “I was thinking we were going to have to order me a whole bunch of items and I was going to ask if there was an option to get to wear a bow tie instead of the standard kind of tie you normally see on kids! Now I'm stuck taking all my normal clothes.”

“Well don't worry, Dear, I'm sure you two can figure out something,” the woman assured me. We finished up soon after that and paid for my purchases. Part of me wanted to browse what other robes Madame Malkin's had, but today was for school shopping - not investigating the shops. My clone and I shared a lingering disappointment at the lack of standard uniform, however.

“Another lie the movies told us,” Daniella mumbled. I nodded. “You know,” Daniella said, “even though he's getting on our nerves, it would have been nice to see Hagrid show up with an ice cream after that rush of disappointment.”

“Ice cream would be lovely right now,” I agreed, “but let's just get the rest of this shopping done. This is going to be a nightmare to carry without Hagrid helping with the heavy stuff.”

“Which means we really need to get you a school trunk sooner rather than later.”

“And a nice roomy bag to carry my things in when I go to Hogwarts,” I added. “Or at least I need to see how much one will run.” I was pretty damn sure I could make my own version of a Bag of Holding, which was essentially what Hermione had been sporting with that beaded, feather-light, undetectable, extension-charmed bag of hers. “How easily do you think we can use our cards to carry our purchases? Because I have a feeling Hagrid isn't going to be much help.”

The cards we were talking about were the nifty little things I kind-of, accidentally, created one day, not too long after I gained my freedom from the Dursleys. (Freedom apparently terrified them all so bad they ran to Australia or whatever.) But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was it could transfer physical items into cards that looked like blank trading cards. You know the kind: Magic the Gathering, Baseball Cards, Yu-Gi-Oh... those kinds. Basically, the cards acted as a pocket storage device with the item in question displayed in a picture and it even came with a handy rundown of the item’s statistics, too! I got the idea from a video game I once played in my past life, Batan Kaitos: Eternal Wings and the Lost Ocean , and the Magnus cards that the characters would use in it. Unlike the game's Magnus cards, however, anything I've stored within my cards have yet to show signs of degradation while being held inside.

I've not tried using them to store living things like animals or people, but I had been entertaining the idea of sticking Scabbers in one...

Try getting out of there, Pettigrew, you traitorous fuck!

That whole plan depended on whether or not this world ran by the same basic canon timeline, though, so I’ll have to contain my intense desire to make some characters suffer . Some characters may prove differently than portrayed. User discretion advised .

“If we get too much stuff for us to carry properly, and Hagrid doesn't show up by the time we go back to the Leaky for lunch, we trap the items,” I decided. “Until then we'll just be normal.”

Daniella nodded and we headed over to Flourish and Blotts. “Do you still want to pick up some quills and parchment despite it not being on the list?”

“Not unless they have some kind of Muggleborn’s Guide to Writing With Wizarding Utensils ,” I remarked. All those fics and the movies having Harry get parchment and quills and it wasn’t even on the damn list. Actually, a lot of things were missing from that damn list and I was feeling completely underwhelmed with what it actually listed as “required items”. I thought I was going to have to go by the apothecary shops like Slug & Jiggers to pick up a potion kit or something but nope .

“I'll still swing by the shops and grab some of the listed ingredients so we can practise before we head to school. There's gotta be a few potions we can brew that are good for beginners. I'll do it after lunch.”

I nodded in assent and we headed into Flourish and Blotts.

HOLY SHIT!

Flourish and Blotts was huge inside! I guess this was what happened when you didn't have to be limited to a revamped Ollivander's shop stage, and somebody was actually utilizing wizarding space!

Books! Books as far as my eye could see! This place was even grander than the used books, CDs, and movies seller McKays that I used to adore going to in my past life - and that place was in a god damned warehouse !

“This... is... not like the movies,” I uttered in awe as we went farther into the shop. I swore I could see a coffee shop or cafe area off in the back that had a few sofas and comfy chairs. There were about three floors of merchandise, counting the ground floor, and I spotted at least two circular stairways nearby and could only assume there was probably another one farther back. This was cool as fuck!

One of the employees called out a welcome as we moved towards the front desk. Might as well ask them questions if they could spare the time.

“Welcome to Flourish and Blotts!” the peppy blonde assistant greeted us. “You’re here for school books?”

“Among other things,” I replied. “I've never been here before so...”

“Well all the course books are arranged on the right wall starting with first year, sorted alphabetically by author. I believe we still have a few of the coursebook collections on the shelves so you might be able to grab the stack you need instead of browsing,” the assistant said. “If you have trouble finding a book, you can come back up here and ask for assistance or summon a helper wisp from one of the marked pillars around the shop.” She pointed to what looked like a rune pictured on the counter. “Books re-shelve themselves after 20 minutes of being left out and if you're planning on getting more than 5 books, we'll set up a bin so you don't have to carry them all to check out. Just let someone know.”

“Oh we're definitely going to need a basket,” I stated, scanning the store. I might not have been a bibliophile like Hermione Granger, but I did love me some of the written word. Hell, one of the downstairs bedrooms was basically a library for my books. I had a lot of them and was pretty damn happy about it.

Don't tell anyone, but some of them aren't even supposed to exist in this dimension.

The assistant went ahead and set me up a bin and, after repeating the phrase to make the books go into the bin, it was off to the races we went!

I will not go into detail on everything I found while perusing the stock, but I will say I had at least one very interesting thing I discovered while I was browsing: Golderoy Lockhart's books.

Why was this interesting, you ask? Well, in fanon and canon, the man was a fake, a liar, possibly a murderer, and - depending on the fic you read - a pedophile and rapist so nothing about what I could find in regards to his books should have caught my eye.

Except for the fact that it was not Kenneth Branagh on the cover of his books. It wasn’t even a younger version of him, or a slightly-altered him that you can still say, “Yeah. That's him. That's the guy that played Benedict.”

No.

Much to my shock, and awe, the man staring at me from the covers of his books was none other than Simon Baker . Or as we Americans would know him, Patrick Jane from The Mentalist. My brain was screaming at this; it was the second major change so far - I’d seen plenty of faces that were not their movie counterpart’s casting and was mentally at a loss at how to handle this.

'Why him?!' I lamented internally as I lost all rational judgment and gathered one of each of his published atrocities to good literature. If all else failed, I'd just use them as kindling for an outdoor barbecue; that is, if he didn't turn out to be next year's DADA professor.

Holy shit , Simon Baker was the face-claim for this world's Gilderoy Lockhart.

That was a small bean compared to the real what the fuck was going on discovery. Daniella went to get a map of the Wizarding Quarter while I went browsing. Turned out maps were close to the Muggle section and...

Well...

There was an actual book series called The Muggle Born (And Raised!) Guidebook.

I shit you not.

It was like the An Idiot's Guidebook series we had in the non-magical world. They ranged from all sorts of subjects, from How To Write and Correspond Like a Wix (which was apparently the gender neutral term for magic folk), to The Workings of the Wizengamot. The series had a bookshelf all to itself; there were so many of them! They were your standard size books - some were thicker than others depending on what topic was being covered - and there were of course moving diagrams as wizarding tomes were bound to have.

I could practically feel how disturbed my clone was suddenly and decided to go find her. As she was, she was practically sheet-white as she handed me one of the books. I read the front cover. I blanched as well when I looked at the Author’s name, before I shook my head in disbelief. This had to be a mistake or something. I went and got another book from the same series. Same Author.

In fact, all the books were written by the same person.

I'm pretty you guys could guess as to why I was freaking out, but I'll still tell you.

The Author who penned all those guidebooks?

Their name was Daniella Radcliffe .

Chapter Text

I bought every single one of those damn books. All the ones from Lockhart as well as the Muggleborn (and Raised!) Guidebooks. The latter for informational reasons, and the former just because I wanted to see for myself how bad they were (and possibly burn them in anger). My mind was dizzy, shaking at how the Guidebook author’s pen name was the same as my fake guardian. 

Maybe it was a coincidence?

Just a very weird coincidence?

Oh please, for the love of god, just let it be a coincidence!

Because if it wasn’t, then my mind was building up to one very disturbing scenario where I get attacked by a time turner and jettisoned into some time before they were published. Either that or...

No .

No, that scenario was too weird to even give a voice to. I'll go with the giant, mega coincidence while the “attacked by time turner” is backup.

I was right when I thought I spotted a little coffee shop-slash-eating area in that back earlier. They had the basic fair that I could recall similar places serving in my past life -  coffee, tea, hot chocolate, a few edibles like cookies, croissants, muffins, and the like. Because I was now British, I ordered tea. Okay, technically Daniella ordered the tea and a few blueberry scones with extra butter and some clotted cream, but it still counted!

Also, as if the weirdness unfolding around me couldn't get worse, I only realized that Daniella didn’t speak with a British accent.

And she looked a lot like Jennifer Connelly. Which meant that I was going to look like Jennifer Connelly the older I got.

I’d always thought female Harry Potter would look like Felicity Jones back in my old life. Hmm...

You know what? I had no complaints on this. Especially given how I'd discovered that Simon Baker was Gilderoy Lockhart, and my guardian shared the same damn name as a guidebook-author for muggleborn and muggle-raised wix. A name I chose as a damn pun on Daniel Radcliffe’s name, I might add! How I looked fell really damn low on the scale of ‘things to worry about’.

I took a sip of my tea once it cooled, hoping it would calm my newborn nerves. Daniella took out the letter the Goblin in Gringotts gave her and read it silently. I watched her eyes widen comically before a confused expression took over. What the hell did it say?

She finished and held  it out for me to take. “This is not going to help our mounting confusion,” she remarked as I took the letter.

Dear Ms Radcliffe,

We request your presence at noon tomorrow to discuss your vaults and holdings.

Vaults? As in plural? And what holdings?! Until today, I’ve never stepped foot into Gringotts or dealt with the Goblins!

As your business is also tied in distinctly with that of your charge, one Hadriana Potter, this meeting will take several hours - lunch and refreshments will be provided at no cost to you.

Gringotts looks forward to continuing working with you and hopes the matters to be discussed at the meeting will be dealt with as swiftly and painlessly as possible so that you and your charge may go forward into the school year well informed and prepare for what’s to come.

Sincerely,

King Steelrook

Leader of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts

“Tell me I'm reading this wrong and this did not come from who it says it came from?” I asked, starting to panic.

“No, that definitely says what you think it says,” Daniella confirmed, spreading some clotted cream on a scone half. Well what do you know: they do look like biscuits from the Southern United States! In case anyone was confused how I was just now realizing this given my food catalogue I get my meals from at home, I would like to point out that it was pretty much acclimated to my past life's tastes and lingo so I've been pretty much going on Chinese, Japanese, and American cuisine for the last 5 years of my independence.

It had a metric fuck ton of choices in there, though, so I hadn't really been using it to its fullest potential.

I really needed to fix that.

This letter sounded all polite and business-like, but there was a sense of ominous I got, especially from the 'prepare for what’s to come'. And with that bit about Hadriana, I could definitely cross out that 'handed to the wrong person' idea with this thing.

Why was this confusing shit happening to me now ? Was it because I took up Harry Potter’s spot in this universe? It was, wasn't it?!

I discovered after eating half of my scone with clotted cream, I did not like clotted cream - and a soft or whipped butter was preferable to my tastes. Which actually made  me sad seeing as I waited two lifetimes to finally have the actual stuff only to find out I didn’t like it.

There was a lot of suckage going on today, apparently.

Once Daniella and I finished our snacks,which,  hopefully, would tide us over until we completed our shopping, (Hagrid was still missing-in-action since parting with us) we stuck our book purchases in my magnus cards and headed out. I decided to see if Tom at the Leaky Cauldron had a room to rent for the next couple of days. Apparently I now had to go to Gringotts tomorrow but I still wanted to explore Diagon Alley as well as other parts of the Wizarding Quarter before I had to go to Hogwarts. Not to mention, I wasn’t done perusing through Flourish and Blotts. I hadn't even started going through this wonderland.

I headed over to Pottage’s Cauldron Shop to get my pewter cauldron, determined to finish up the rest of what was listed on my school supplies sheet and not get any more extras at this time. After Pottage’s, I went to Wiseacres for the rest of my equipment.

I saw a decorative silver cauldron that had a stray thought go through my head that said, “I wonder if Snape would like that?”

Because you couldn't see a cauldron and not think of the man you're infatuated with, could you?

I wonder what he's up to right now. Was he at Hogwarts brewing for the infirmary? Had he gone on a trip to collect ingredients? I wonder if people gave him presents on Yule or his birthday. He was really handsome. Probably had a lot of admirers.

Concentrate on the task at hand, you daft bitch.

When we got to Wiseacre’s, an assistant explained the difference in using crystal phials versus regular glass ones. The crystal phials were harder to break without a charm and tended to enhance the effects of certain potions stored within. When I made the eventual visit to the apothecary and potion stores, I needed to remember to ask them what different kinds of materials phials come in.

Finally (because parchment and quills are not listed as required purchases for school) I made the last shopping stop of the day.

Ollivander's.

We stood outside the shop for a few minutes, just taking it in. I honestly wondered how this could be different than canon. Would I still get the holly and phoenix feather wand? Or would I get something totally different? If I did get something different, It would be fair to expect any fights in a cemetery would not end with a simple Priori Incantatem .

Not that there will be any fights in any cemeteries if I had anything to say about it. I would leave the god damned Wizarding world before they forced me into that fucking tournament. You could fuck right off right then and there. I would hide out in a pocket dimension for the rest of my life until the next incarnation.

I realized Garrick Ollivander was probably a busy man but he really needed to get an assistant to clean up the place! Holy shite! 'A thin layer of dust coating everything', my ass. I thought the movie made it look like it was in need of some serious help but this was twice as bad. I was not really scared of spiders, but I wasn’t really enjoying a whole bunch of cobwebs everywhere. With how dark this place is, spiders would love it.

“Good afternoon, Miss Potter,” came the very familiar voice of John Hurt, the man looked exactly the same from the films. Well, maybe not quite. His hair was longer and he had it pulled back with a ribbon. But other than that, I saw no big difference.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” I greeted.

“I was wondering when I would be seeing you,” he stated from his place in the stacks surrounded by floating tape measures and a quill and ink ready to take notes. He came out to stand near me and looked down. Those were some shiny, quicksilver-coloured eyes. They were...unnerving. “Interesting. Many people thought you would have your mother's green eyes and your father's hair. Fascinating to see how things could be so different than what we expected or what others have told us.”

Okay. This was not the conversation I remembered happening in either book or film.

He turned from me and took hold of the tape measure.

Luckily, he didn't ask what my wand arm was. Instead, he asked if I was  left or right handed, which made far more sense to ask a child. I wondered to myself if wand length had anything to do with the length of one's arms. “It is a joint combination of arm length and height,” answered the, apparently, psychic wandmaker. I froze up just a little bit.

“Relax your posture,” he directed me; I glanced over at Daniella, who was staring at Garrick Ollivander like he was an alien. I breathed in and out deeply and did as he said, but this visit was really putting me on edge. Hadn't I been thrown enough curve balls today?

We were soon done with the measuring portion of the program and moved on to trying the wands. The first two didn't even leave the boxes before he pulled them back like the very boxes would burst into flame if I touched them. What they were made of struck me as odd: he’d said willow for the first wood and mahogany for the second. Weren't those the same wood wands Lily and James had?

“Sometimes one will share an affinity for a wand similar to the parents: either wood or core,” Ollivander answered my very much not-verbalised query. “It appears neither wands of similar materials would agree with you.”

That would explain why in the series, Augusta Longbottom gave Neville his dad's wand. Don't get me wrong: I thought Neville's family in the book series had issues. But the whole ‘synchronous energy’ being a reason on why she would give Neville his father's wand...I thought it was a poor choice to do so given his magic in at least book one was incredibly hard to handle (not Seamus Finnegan levels but still).

Ollivander was pulling box after box down from the shelves; most of them weren't even touched as at least two of the boxes slid out of my reach (apparently by the wands own power) before I grasped it, if Mr Ollivander didn't take them away before they do so.

“A tricky customer indeed,” he mused aloud but he honestly didn't look put out at all. Guess the man really did love a challenge. “Maybe that one?” he wondered, more to himself than me. “But wouldn't it be too obvious?” He looked at me, those quicksilver eyes appraising. Once again, I really hoped I was not about to be hit with legilimency because I'd believe it were possible with eyes like that.

“How much do you believe in fate, Miss Potter?”

What was with this trip?!

“I believe in reincarnation and Karma. And that Life enjoys itself by giving the occasional drop kick to your pants, Mr. Ollivander. Fate and Destiny, whether they are two different entities or the same, is tricky. On one hand sometimes things just happen and it's too clean to be a coincidence, but you can't see how it would happen from a man-made perspective. Does that make sense?”

He wandered behind his desk and had ascended the ladder again as I spoke. “Very much so, Miss Potter,” he replied. “It's like when you go somewhere to grab a special item that in all expectations was sold out but it just so happened a new shipment arrived not 5 minutes before you stepped inside.”

“I love it when that happens,” Daniella stated.

“It is,” Ollivander said thoughtfully, “a heady feeling. One of the best there is.” He took out a box and I instantly knew what it contained from the way he was holding it. The lid was carefully removed. “I ask about Fate, Miss Potter, because I wonder if this wand will be a sign of it.”

There it was. The wand canonically used by Harry James Potter. “Holly and Phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple.” I didn't realize I said it out loud until Ollivander said, “Well spotted, Miss Potter. Clearly you have a good eye.”

“I just -”

“Don't worry,” he interrupted, waving my words off. “Your secrets are your own. Let's give it a wave.”

I would like it known here and now that I was not rooting for myself, nor hoping to get the same wand as Harry had in canon. I have a wand I've always wanted and, although I respected Harry's wand, it was still Harry's . Not Hadriana's - not mine . Nor even something I would have had custom made. I had serious doubts that his wand would even work with my magic. I felt something between disappointment and guilt when I gripped the handle, and a rush of belonging seemed to erupt from the wand itself.

The wand's magic might have been happy but I felt like I was cheating and I hated that feeling outside of using an actual Cheat Device in video games.

“The wand will choose the wix, Miss Potter. Even when one crafts them from custom materials, the wand still chooses the wix.”

“That may be true, Mr. Ollivander, but I still feel as if I'm still intruding on someone else's territory.”

A gnarled finger reached out and brushed my bangs to the side, and despite the fact that he was practically a stranger, I found myself unwilling to pull back. Silver eyes rested upon the scar on my forehead, “Fate, as you say, Miss Potter, is a funny thing. There are times we feel undeserving of its gifts or even wish to reject them. I think you will find this wand, no matter how you've come to be here, does belong to you. No matter what name or title you claim.”

I stared up at him with wide eyes and watched him quirk his lips in a smile before taking the wand from me and putting it into the velvet-lined box. “Will you be wanting anything besides the wand?”

We got a holster and a polishing kit with oils that smelled really good. Ollivander showed me how to polish the wand since I’d never used actual oils and cloth before in my life. Up until now, I've used the aerosol sprays when I cleaned by hand - and you probably didn't really want to do that with wands. “They don't mind a bit of spritzing,” Ollivander explained, “but the compressed air tends to be too cold for something sensitive like magical wood.”

“Got it,” I said with a grin. “No using Pledge on Holly here.”

“Indeed.”

We thanked him and were turning to leave before he called out, “Oh! Ms. Radcliffe?”

Given how he had barely even seemed to notice my guardian up until this point, and with how this whole trip had gone, addressing her by her name and knowing who she was, was that much creepier.

“Your wand will be ready tomorrow for pick up whenever you are available. I believe you will be very pleased with what you receive. Some of my best work.”

…

You know what? I wasn’t even gonna ask. We just thanked him and got the fuck out of the shop. I couldn't handle any more surprises or changes from the canon today. I just wanted to go get dinner, find out where the fuck Hagrid's been all this time, and see if I could rent a room for the night. 

I was tired. I’d been yelled at. I missed out on the canon first meeting with Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore had custody of my fucking vault key, which I was pretty sure was theft - I’ve been wondering what he's been doing with it. Hagrid's been a rude, brainwashed person and gone the entire time. I've not eaten anything substantial since breakfast, just that scone and tea. Ollivander's wasn't anything like the books or films. Simon Baker was Gilderoy Lockhart. And my guardian shared the same name as a published author who penned in-depth help books for kids and people entering the British Wizarding World...

Oh, and I got hit with a touch of want and melancholy while I was looking at cauldrons because my attraction to Professor Severus Tobias Snape has a hold of me bad . Let's just add that to the list as well. I still had no idea what Dumbledick told Hagrid that made him so defensive and low-key hostile in regard to Daniella. At least I was hoping it was the old fart's doing since I couldn't imagine why or for what reason I would have to antagonize Hagrid. He also hadn't shown any sign of Daniella and him having met before so... What was going on?

I needed food and answers and I could get at least one of those at the Leaky Cauldron, so off we went.

If I'd had an idea that I would have preferred Hagrid being absent from my presence, just ultimately forgetting he was supposed to guide me around as opposed to what would happen we reconnected with him at the LC, I probably would have said ‘fuck it’ and opened a potral to send my ass back home . Just cut out any more drama from the day.

Even if it ended up with having Severus Snape come to our rescue. And having dinner with him.

…

You know what? Fuck that. I still would have risked the altercation with a buzzed Hagrid if the pay off was spending time with Snape and getting to eat a meal with him.

Because despite the man being a right asshole in the books, I still wanted to live the dream. And it was a surprisingly pleasant affair, thank you very much.

Chapter Text

I would like you to imagine me running my hands down my face when you read the next sentence.

I don't know how to even begin with the whole ‘seeing Hagrid drinking in the Leaky Cauldron’ when we got back into the establishment.

He had a bowl, or rather a miniature cauldron of soup, and a plate of food with at least one tankard in front of him. It was sad to say that this was pretty much exactly how I expected to find him after he was missing-in-action this whole damn time. The only difference was that he had food in front of him.

The pub was practically empty now, which felt odd but I elected to ignore it. Hagrid didn't even look up when the little bell over the back door rang to signify someone's entrance into the building.

After the day I had and everything, I didn't even have the energy to be mad at how bad Hagrid failed his escort duties. I was just incredibly disappointed.

I'd honestly just leave him and see if Tom had a spare room, get some dinner, and then wait until he either remembered I existed, noticed us in the pub, or went back to Hogwarts. But he had my train ticket and, theoretically, I couldn't get on the damn platform without it.

The things I do for canon, I swear.

Because just going over to a possibly very drunk man of such massive size was a potentially bad idea, I motioned at Daniella in the direction of the bar so she could ask Tom how long Hagrid had been there as well as if she could rent a room for us until tomorrow. I glanced around the pub, occasionally looking back atHagrid or over at Daniella. She came back over to me but she didn’t look happy.

“He's been at that table for hours. Tom says he came in about less than an hour after we exited the pub with him, sat down and started drinking. Gave him some soup and a meal to make sure he wasn't so drunk he couldn't get safely back to Hogwarts.”

Perfect.

“A room's available so we don't need to worry about going back to Cokeworth for the night. He says the sheets are clean and we can order dinner until about 10 but afterwards the kitchen is closed until 6 in the morning. They start breakfast around then.”

Okay. Good.

“Let's go speak to Hagrid,” she said and took my hand. We approached his table; he was still oblivious to our presence when we got there. He might be mumbling to himself, which was not encouraging. We waited a few more minutes before I spoke.

“Mr. Hagrid.”

He stopped mid-whatever he was saying and blinked up at me. “Hadriana!” Oh god I think he might be slurring. “Ye get your robes done? We can go pick up yer books and wand now!”

“You never told us to meet back up with you here, Mr. Hagrid,” Daniella reminded him. “You said you'd come find us... that was over 6 hours ago. She's gotten all her shopping done.”

“Can't be that long! I only stopped in for a pint,” Hagrid stated and took out his watch. “See? It's only... Oh blimey. That can't be the right time! The shops'll be closed soon! I hope you didn't dawdle and got all your bits and bobs.”

Was he actually implying that I've just been wasting time? While he'd been here drinking?!

Stay calm. Probably not a good idea to yell at a large drunk man whose parentage was rather resistant against magic.

“I got everything that was on my list,” I assured him.

“You sure you got enough parchment and quills? You don't want to be running out,” he stated. “Although you can probably get your guardian to pick some up in case you start running low.” He said ‘guardian’ like he had a bad taste in his mouth. Or like when he called Vernon a ‘muggle’ in the first film.

“That's not on the list so she didn't get those,” Daniella informed him with a frown.

“How can you expect the girl to do her classwork without parchment, quills, and ink?!” Hagrid shouted and we both took a step back, I took another step behind Daniella. I glanced over at the bar where I saw Tom was watching us closely.

“The same way she's been doing it: with pens, pencils, and regular paper,” Daniella snapped.

“You can't bring muggle writing supplies into Hogwarts!” Hagrid blustered. “It's an outrage! She'll be laughed at left and right for not fitting in!”

“They weren't on the list therefore she's not required to have them.”

“It don't matter if it's not on the list! Everybody knows you need to get them! Even some unwelcome interloper such as yourself should be smart enough to know the students use wizarding supplies in a wizarding school!”

“Oh? Is that what Dumbledore called me when he told you to come escort us around the Wizarding Quarter today?” Daniella asked. “An unwelcome interloper?”

She'd probably been fighting very hard not to ask if he was told this before or after he’d told Hagrid not to let me have my vault key after my visit.

“It's Headmaster Dumbledore and what he told me is none of your concern! Stop trying to change the subject when you've obviously messed up and not gotten Hadriana her proper gear and all!”

Unbelievable!

“Coming from the man who's been here for the last 6 hours drinking despite his instructions to escort us, that's very rich,” Daniella replies. “Also, I do not have to call him Headmaster as I am not his student, have never been his student, and given how several items we apparently need aren't on the list, it's starting to look like Hadriana isn't going to be either! If anyone has been ‘failing at their job’ today, it's you and Dumbledore.”

Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and waved it at my clone just like he did to Vernon in the films. “Don't you ever insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me,” he growled.

Oh that's -

“Is there a problem here?”

The honeyed voice of Alan Rickman, aka Severus Snape, had never sounded so sweet or welcome.

“Oh, Perfessor Snape,” Hagrid said, looking every bit as shocked as I was that the Potions Master of Hogwarts was here. “What can I do for you?”

“Putting your umbrella away and no longer threatening an unarmed woman and child would be an excellent start,” Snape replies.

Hagrid's liquor-flushed cheeks went a deeper red with embarrassment as he lowered his umbrella.

“As for my presence here,” Snape explained, “I discovered I was low on a few ingredients and decided to visit the local apothecary. I noticed Miss Potter and her guardian seemed to be unaccompanied, wandering around Diagon, but paid it no mind. Until I came into the Leaky for lunch and found you sitting here. I was under the impression you were expected to accompany them.”

“Them carts at Gringotts make me ill,” Hagrid informed him. “I need a drink to settle me self.”

“Which might be believable if you'd left to rejoin them after you had one drink,” Snape countered. “However, I have been informed that you did not stop at one drink, and given the shouting match I stepped into, it would seem you were derelict in the escort duties assigned to you.”

“The Radcliffe woman is being disrespectful to the Headmaster!”

“I am not behooved to call him anything but Dumbledore as I have never been his student or met him before this summer,” Daniella snapped. “And you've been hostile to me since we started this trip for no reason other than you view me as some, quote, 'unwelcome interloper'.”

“She's not gotten Hadriana her proper supplies nor is she the people he left her with!” Hagrid shouted, pointing at Daniella. “She just sauntered up and took her from them muggle Durselys and had her kept from knowing anything. I heard him talk to McGonagal 'fore I left about how they can't find 'em in Britain no more. What’d you do to them?!”

Ah, now we're getting somewhere. I almost wish Skeeter were here; she would eat this shit up. I didn't know how much Tom could hear of this conversation because I was very much afraid we wouldn't be renting the room for the night after all. Guess we’ll be taking the Knight Bus to the Leaky tomorrow.

Snape grabbed Hagrid's wrist and looked at us. “If you'll excuse us for a moment, Miss Potter, Ms. Radcliffe. I need to have a word with my... colleague .”

“Feel free to speak with him as long as you want,” Daniella stated. “I think it's about time we headed home.” I felt her hand rest protectively on the back of my head. As much as I would have loved to stay and Snape-watch, after the day we've had, and getting into a fight with Hagrid, I was at my limit.

“If you could stay until I've finished dealing with our groundskeeper, I would be most appreciative.”

Put a girl on the spot, why don't you?

Daniella looked at me and I looked at her. I should say no. I should go home. But Snape. Appreciative Snape!

God I was pathetic.

“All right then,” Daniella agreed.We both went to sit at a nearby table. I was thirsty so I decided to go to the bar and see if I could get some ice water. “How about some nice cold gillywater instead?” Tom suggested. “It's tastier and you look like you need it.”

Now I knew what Gillywater was, but I was supposed to be ignorant of wizarding stuff, so I asked him to explain it. He explained, in a very entertaining way, how Gillywater was normal water, but filtered through Gillyweed which has been used as a natural water filtration system in the wizarding world for ages. I ordered two glasses and brought them back to the table. Up until this point, I hadn't tested to see if my clone could actually consume food and beverage, but we've made appearances that she at least has received her own portion. I always ended up finishing what she got because she tended to switch out our servings.

Snape finished speaking with Hagrid, and I watched the large man head towards the Floo looking upset. I really hoped he gave Snape my ticket, otherwise I was not heading to King's Cross on September 1st. People could run around in a panic when their girl-saviour didn't show up as planned because Dumbledick chose the wrong person to help me. I really liked Hagrid from the books and films, and to see this version of him just hurt. He was supposed to be better than this.

Snape approached our table and bowed slightly.

“Hagrid has returned to Hogwarts. I will speak with the Headmaster about his unbecoming behaviour and dereliction in duty, personally, Ms. Radcliffe,” Snape promised. He glanced towards the chair across from her as if to ask if he may sit and she nodded. We were sitting at the same table as Severus now!

“Is that normal for him?” Daniella asked, pretending to take a sip of her water. 

Snape shook his head. “On the contrary, from what interactions I have had with him Hagrid is often overly polite although not disingenuous. He usually performs his job well if not a little overzealous and forgetful that his biology affords him far more resistance to magical damage than the rest of us. He is an oaf but a good hearted one. However, I will not excuse his behaviour nor will I ask you to do so either. I will only apologize in my minor capacity as a representative of the school Miss Potter will be attending. If you haven't decided to revoke your decision to attend?”

Now he turned those black eyes on me and, no, I was not blushing. It was the day’s flush of exhaustion. That was all. Shut up.

“I'm a little bit concerned that after Hagrid's statements about me not not getting everything I need, if I should really attend since the supply list is obviously lacking what's considered the right stuff,” I said. “I don't even know what is appropriate to wear besides my robes since most schools have a more in-depth uniform. Madame Malkin told me until about ten years ago the uniform was closer to non-magical schools but was reduced to the current one, Sir. This leaves me free guessing what would and would not be appropriate under robes wear. I don't want to bring clothes and then get in trouble because they were too-muggle since apparently non-magical items are looked down on.”

“Your father and his friends would have loved to have such lenient uniform standards,” Snape reflects. “Knowing James Potter, he would have gone nude at least once underneath.”

“I've been made aware how much of a prankster my biological father was in his school days, Professor,” I told him. I emphasized the word prankster with a good deal of sarcasm. “I don't think I would have liked him very much if what I've been told about him and his friends is correct.”

“I have been advised not to speak ill of your father, Miss Potter. However, I will agree with you that what friends he surrounded himself with were not kind to those they viewed as beneath them.”

I bit my tongue so I didn't ask if he was one such student and sipped my water.

“I will relay your feelings on the lack of items to the Headmaster when I make my report,” Snape promised. “Though I have very little expectation that he will do anything about it as he seems to have other things on his mind.”

“Like an unwelcome interloper?” Daniella asked.

I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch just for a second. “The Headmaster has voiced a few concerns about you, that much is true,” he confirmed. “Would you both be open to sharing a meal with me here before you adjourn back to Cokeworth? It is late and it will be several hours on the train. And the Leaky's fare would be far more satisfying than McDonald's.”

“I don't know: they make an awfully delicious fish sandwich,” I replied as my head voice was screaming about how I was just asked to have dinner with Severus Snape.

With Snape.

Snape.

SEVERUS SNAPE!

Graham Chapman burst into my thoughts, telling me to stop that silliness and look at my crush. Both he and Daniella were gazing at me expectantly. “I would be okay with it,” I said. “But only if you're certain you want to, Professor Snape, Sir.”

“I would not offer if I wasn't, Miss Potter.”

I hope you mean that, Severus Snape. Because the little worm in my gut was wriggling around trying to remind me that I didn't know this man, as in, I didn’t know this Snape. He could be trying to get on my good side now; what if Dumbledore ordered him to befriend Daniella in order to lure her into a trap so that the Order could kidnap me!

Thanks, Brain. You just ruined a happy moment. Did you have to do that? I didn't want to think about those kinds of things!

A cool hand brushed my forehead. I look up at Daniellla who looks concerned. “What's wrong?” she asked softly. I shook my head. I was not going to let melancholy show up and ruin the only chance I may ever get to having dinner with Severus Snape. “Really long day,” I half lied. It was not a complete lie since this had been one of the most chaotic days of this very short reincarnation. She nodded in understanding. Meanwhile, Snape ordered for all three of us, and it took only a moment before we were presented with a very lovely-looking spread.

I just realized I had a very big problem.

Remember what I said earlier with drinks? Well it's not the same with food. At least we hadn't practiced and refined looking like he clone is eating without actually eating. Shit! Shit shit shit!! What am I going to do?! There is no way we are going to be able to bullshit our way through this meal! This is Severus Snape! He observes things even better than fucking Dumbledore and Voldemort combined!!! Double Agent Extraordinaire!

Fuck! Why did I agree to this?!

It’s because you saw the opportunity of a lifetime to have dinner with the actual Severus Snape and jumped at it like a fucking Gryffindor, you stupid cunt!

Wait a second. I glanced at the food in front of me. There was a variety of cold meats, a trio of different cheeses, tomato slices, sliced fruits, some regular pickles, what looks like pickled onion, berry (or at least I thought it was berry) relish, and a bowl of mixed greens with some kind of creamy dressing.

“What's this?” I asked. I thought I knew what it was but I couldn't be sure.

“It is called a Ploughman's, Miss Potter,” Snape explained. “It is a two person meal usually served for lunch but they offer a wider assortment of items when one has it for dinner here. I assumed it would be more appropriate fair for Ms Radcliffe and yourself. I ordered the Game Pie for myself.”

We also had a pot of tea in front of us so that was nice of him. “Would you like some wine with your meal, Ms Radcliffe? The Berry Ocky Rot tends to pair well with the cheeses they served.”

Daniella winced. “I'm afraid after the day we've had, Mr. Snape, that a glass of wine would relax me far too much and we still have a journey to make back to Cokeworth. If our plans to stay the night here at the Leaky had remained so, I would take you up on that offer. Perhaps another time will provide me the chance to try a glass.”

I would have liked to try some, honestly, but I was stuck in a child's body, and no matter what some societies may think, I'd rather not start imbibing before my teen years.

Daniella prepared our tea while I arranged some food on the two small plates provided to us. I was nervous as hell about the clone trying to eat while not actually eating in front of Snape, but I didn't have much choice in the matter since I agreed to do this.

“I recall you saying you had not visited the Wizarding Quarter before today, Miss Radcliffe.”

Daniella accepted the plate I handed her as she nodded. “That is correct.”

“And your accent? American? I detected a very slight southern drawl while you were exchanging words with Hagrid.”

Holy shit? I kept it?!

“I've lived in several different places, but before I came to Britain I was housed in the American South.” Which was true. I spent my entire previous life in the Southern state of Tennessee. The accent wasn't as pronounced as, say, someone who'd come from Kentucky or Georgia, but it was definitely there. I guess it was so dear to me, I couldn't drop it with this rebirth. Doesn't help that I didn't truly get reborn like my other reincarnations so the residual accent was more understandable.

“How do you find living in Britain compared to where you were before? I'm afraid I do not get to experience much of the culture of the places I have been able to go to on my rare trips to find ingredients for potions. And hearing another's opinion is supposedly good for broadening the mind.”

I knew I was being interrogated so I was trying to choose my answers carefully. The chance he’ll be reporting it all back to Dumbledore after we split ways was high so I had to be cautious. Though, that wasn’t quite a strong skill of mine.

“The urge for a prolonged visit to my old place of living sometimes crops up,” Daniella admitted. That was an understatement. Sometimes the nostalgia hit so hard I was tempted to portal my ass to Rock City and then staying outside Chattanooga. The best part of doing that would be that I'd have the ability to live exactly the way I'd always wanted when I was magic-less and poor. I was a little behind on making my old life's fantasies come true, but it was still an idea, if the Triwizard Tournament happened and I get roped into that horse shite. 

“Living in Britain after so many years in America, experiencing life in England is almost surreal after only imagining it through media. Even though it’s been years since I came, I am sad to say I haven’t even scratched the surface of this place. I made a home and then tended to forget at times there’s a whole other new culture to absorb. At least until I leave the house. And then I kick myself for letting my introvert and desire to be comfortable and content rule over my sense of adventure.”

“Not one to go seeking bold new things, Ms. Radcliffe?” Snape asked, taking a sip from whatever it was he ordered. Was it brandy? Might’ve been. I really wished I was the adult right now. A glass of wine would make this seem romantic. 

“I do not seek out new life and new civilizations intentionally, Professor,” Daniella joked at his paraphrasing of Star Trek. “But I have found myself in some interesting situations without meaning to. My living situation with Hadriana is an example. I did not seek out the supposed Saviour of your wizarding world, Professor Snape. I was just placed in the position to save her from the horrors a certain Headmaster of yours decided to let her live with.” Uh oh. This was about to get ugly. Don’t do it! We’re living the dream! “May I ask you something personal, Professor Snape?”

He stared at Daniella for a moment, enjoying a mouthful of his meal before answering. “I may not give an answer, but you may ask me what you wish.”

“You did not like James Potter and his friends when you all were in school together. The derision you had in your tone when saying what you did during our parent-teacher meeting told me enough on that subject.”

“That’s not a question,” he stated.

“No, it’s what I know to be a fact. This is my question: Would you trust the welfare of a child, even though they should be the child of your most loathed enemy, to a man who placed a helpless infant on the doorstep of a family who abhors everything that child stands for and represents? With nothing but a letter and whisper of good luck to keep her safe? How willingly would you accept it if said Headmaster assured you that the child was perfectly safe and being raised like a princess? Because in my mind, Professor, there isn’t much of a Greater Good when we abandon the most vulnerable of us to live with monsters.”

His dark eyes glanced towards me while I said, “Daniella!” like a chastising parent. I sent an apologetic look towards Snape. I knew it had been something I wanted to say for a while, but why now?! We were never going to eat with this man again and I wanted this once-in-a-lifetime event to be good! Now he was really going to hate me!

I looked over at Snape, forcing myself to examine him. He had one hell of a poker face but he was not clenching his fork or glass as if he was trying to keep himself in check. He looked 100% composed. He was pissed, though. I knew it. “So much for an enjoyable dinner,” I muttered, taking a bite of ham, tomato, and cheese-covered bread.

The problem was he did deserve some of my ire even if I didn’t want it to be true. He never cared about Harry in canon. It was always about Lily and his greatest regret. At least with canon Snape it was.

God that made me feel bitter and jealous.

There was a strong stretch of silence at the table. It was heavy as Daniella and Snape looked at one another. I was torn between jealousy at how my clone kept eye contact with the man I was crushing on while managing not to buckle under the irritation that this dinner went from something I was trying to enjoy, to oppressive silence. 

Finally too fed up to take it any longer, I push back my chair, “We’re going home. Now,” I informed both of them. They looked at me, “It’s been a long day and I’m tired. We’re tired.” Daniella nodded and got up with Snape quickly following.

“If you wish to avoid the train, I would be more than willing to allow you access to my personal Floo connection at my home in Cokeworth,” he offered.

“Thank you, but no thank you, Sir,” I answered before Daniella could. I was done for the day and too exhausted to even pretend to be a regular kid. Snape, for reasons I couldn’t understand, didn’t react even remotely to how I thought he would, given how I was just a kid calling the shots as if I was the grown up and not Daniella.

“Then allow me to walk you to the train station,” he insisted. “After the day you’ve had, it would be only fitting if someone with ill intentions decided to force an encounter with two young women such as yourselves.”

That would be my luck, wouldn’t it? Attacked by something or someone after everything that already happened?

“All right,” I agreed. Before we left, Snape paid for our dinner and drinks - despite Daniella’s insistence she did so. He refused to accept, citing how he was the one who ordered for us and invited us to dine so it was his treat. I was hoping he’d make Dumbledick reimburse him for it all.

I made a hasty trip to the bathroom before we left, taking a small strip of stickers out of my bag. Time to make a temporary checkpoint since staying the night wasn’t an option and I probably would not feel like taking the Knight Bus after all. I adhered a small smiley face sticker on the lower corner of the door leading into the restroom. I really should do this on a closet or the front door of the Leaky or hell better yet the entry door to the alleyway leading into Diagon but I can’t go looking for random closets and Snape’s waiting so limited options and needs must. 

No one spoke as we went to the train station, where Snape once again insisted he paid. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, really, so Daniella and I just let him have his way. I just refused to say anything when I noticed he bought himself a ticket so that he could see us off the mostly empty platform.

As we were getting on the train, he said, “May we meet again, Miss Potter. Ms Radcliffe.” Which was kind of odd since he was definitely going to see me again (hello? Potion’s Teacher) but probably not Daniella unless something happened. Which it probably will since no one gave me my damn ticket for Platform 9¾ or anything else related on how a new student could get Hogwarts. 

Guess the joke was on them.

I watched feeling forlorn as the train took us away; Snape was soon out of sight.

What a day.

Chapter Text

"Ah! There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort."  - Jane Austen

After the day I had, coupled with the prolonged distance I suffered from being so far from my house, I was thrilled to be back within its walls. I did not wish to think about how I was going to have to get up tomorrow and leave again .

I flopped face-first onto my bed, breathing in deep and taking in the feeling of comfort being home provided. 

Fucking hell.

Thing is… I was an introvert whose extroverted tendencies only came out online . At least it was like that in my past life. Any “big moment” that happened in my past life was few and far between. Most of the excitement was provided by video games, books, and movies. Of course, you couldn’t have many adventures being dirt poor and powerless as a kid, but I had a couple. It was mostly in wooded areas and a few, big drainage areas like large pipes or under bridges. 

That probably sounded really stupid but I liked it anyway.

Video games, both console and PC, would help eventually fill in the gap when I could no longer indulge in those explorational adventures. I spent my years from twelve to eighteen in various mental health facilities and group homes because of poor impulse control and bad decisions that went hand in hand with that particular incarnation’s biological penchant for genetically-inclined diseases of the mind persuasion.

It wasn’t very hard to believe people when they constantly told you that you were insane. When all you had are memories and no ability to do the things you had once been able to do...

I think I might have figured out the reason why I always told myself, “No, we will not run to Tennessee even though we have phenomenal cosmic power once again!”

I had a very comfy bed...

…

Apparently that was my last conscious thought because I woke up at 7 the following morning, still in my clothes from yesterday. That said, it was rather surprising as, like I said before, I didn’t need sleep so the “falling into Morpheus’ sweet embrace” was unexpected.

Breakfast was consumed. Shower was obtained; though I almost forgot to wash my hair because my addled brain was like, “How’re you gonna dry it in time?” Luckily, I remembered to counter it, “With my magic, bitch! Same way I’m gonna style it!”

And I did.

I nearly did my hair before I got dressed, which was usually a bad idea depending on what you’re wearing, so I might have lost that battle.

Last life didn’t afford me many meetings with high profile people and my wardrobe contained clothes given to me as well as what little I could afford to purchase from very cheap stores. I more than less understand the Weasley children’s plight about second-hand items being a thing. If I did befriend the family (of my own volition, not because of some obvious set up by Dumbledick) then I had every intention of giving them stuff if I could. If Ron and I became friends, I would need to look into Wizard Chess tournaments. Maybe see if we can boost his confidence and self-worth by entering him into things he’s got an affinity for. I mean, they gotta have competitions and tournaments like those somewhere! It’d be practically criminal if they didn’t.

I looked through my closet to find what might be good to wear for a meeting with one’s Goblin representative. Obviously I needed to choose something business-y since I was heading to conduct business, but what do I wear?

And was I supposed to bring a clone with me? They did mention the business involved Hadriana (and do not get me started with how freaked out I was that they put down her position as my ward in the letter on top of the already startling fact that they sent me said letter with my alias on it.) The only way that could have been weirder, was if it was addressed to me using my past life’s name. You wanted a sign that there’s a weird ass conspiracy going on? Use the name no one should know was yours. Since no one has used my old name, I will opt to believe this was just a multi-layered event of misunderstanding.

What did the letter say again?

I took it out of my purse and reread it.

Dear Ms Radcliffe,

Your presence is requested at noon tomorrow to discuss your vaults and holdings.

As your business is tied distinctly with your charge, one Hadriana Potter, this meeting will take several hours longer than it would traditionally. Lunch and refreshments will be provided at no cost to you.

Gringotts looks forward to continue working with you and hopes the matters at the meeting will be dealt with swiftly and painlessly so that you and your charge may go forward well informed and prepared for the coming storm.

Sincerely,

King Steelrook

High King of the Goblin Nation

I sat down on the bench at the end of my bed, examining the words in front of me. Yesterday I didn’t get a chance to really look it over, but right now I needed to. Bypassing the initial shock that this came from the, apparent, High King of the Goblin Nation, this whole thing confounded me. What vaults and holdings could I possibly have? I never knowingly stepped foot in Wizarding Britain or the Magical World since I gained corporeal form so I couldn’t exactly buy property or open an account and deposit money or items into a vault. Hell, outside of robbing an ATM using magic, I’ve created everything I’ve ever used from magic itself. I bend if not break reality to suit my purposes.

It was arrogant and potentially careless but I try to be careful.

Next was why the Goblins, or at least this King Steelrook, classified me as Hadriana’s guardian. Putting aside for the moment that I was Hadriana because I was inhabiting what was once her body and the real one perished at the age of six, how was I (as Daniella) her guardian? Have I been recognized by the magic of the bank? Did the Potters have a secret friend that I accidentally took the identity of? Is this a joke that somehow got out of hand? How does this work?!

There was no mention of bringing Hadriana with me, but I should still come with a clone just in case. I casted the jutsu and out popped mini-me.

“It’s gonna be another long ass day,” greeted Hadriana. I nodded.

“At least the letter said they’ll feed us,” I offered as consolation as the clone went to my closet. “What are you looking for?”

“I want to wear a vintage red dress with white polka dots today,” Hadriana announced as she examined the closet’s contents. “And a Minnie Mouse Bow tie style for my hair. You think we can do that?”

“Add in some cute white gloves and Mary Janes and you’ll look a picture. You want to do tights or knee high socks?”

“Some nice opaque tights.”

I nodded. What I didn’t own, I had available in a bound book similar to the one I get my meals from. Except it held clothing options instead of the most diverse options of food known to all wizardkind. I will never go hungry or without nice clothes in this life. One lifetime was enough of that for me.

Hadriana grabbed a pair of tights from the dresser and my black Mary Janes as I flipped through the pages and summoned the dress she requested. I looked at it for a moment and felt like being picky. “Did you want a square neckline or a rounded Peter Pan collar?”

“Rounded Peter Pan collar with poofy sleeves. You know, after the strain from yesterday, I have this weird feeling like the scars and holes from our secret skin want to materialize on my chest.”

Okay. That ruined the facetious feeling. I looked at Hadriana who was putting on a little camisole and slipping on the tights. “That’s not good.”

“You cast shadow clone jutsu for nearly eight hours, got into several emotionally charged situations, and ended up passing out not ten minutes after returning home. You’re under stress and we’re heading back out to the unknown instead of spending the next few days recuperating like we need to. You’re lucky you’re a fucking powerhouse otherwise you’d still be out cold!”

Wow. Voice of reason much? I handed her the dress and went to get dressed myself. The problem is, I didn’t have anything that I could say felt right that was already hanging in the closet. I didn’t feel like wearing a dress, partly because Hadriana was already wearing one. Actually now that I looked, I didn’t really own anything that said: “I’m here for business!” It’s all jeans and very comfy pants.

So back to the book.

I picked out a pair of periwinkle high-waisted pants with a matching waistcoat then pulled out a white button down.

“Put on a bowtie,” Hadriana ordered. I snickered but did so, choosing the one I couldn’t tell if it was navy or black. I looked over my reflection and I found myself agreeable. Onto the hair! Hadriana’s hair was done per her request adorned with a shiny, black bow tie on the top of her head. Pretty as a picture but thank goodness I had magic to help style. Although my hair wasn’t at all like the crazy, unkept, chaotic mess it was trademarked as in the books and movies, I still needed the help getting it perfect. I didn’t get to do this stuff in my previous life so I was running blind and still trying to learn.

Hadriana’s hair was done and I managed to produce a very lovely bun plait for my own sportage. I checked the time and found that we had some to spare. I still hadn’t unpacked the stuff we purchased yesterday so I chose to do that. I put the guidebooks on a table in my bedroom and then took the ones by Simon Baker outside to read on the screened-in porch. That way, I’d be close enough to the fire pit to toss them in if they pissed me off enough.

“I’m gonna have a lot of reading to do before the first,” I remarked as Hadriana put the other textbooks on the living room coffee table.

“Make more clones and have each of us read a book,” she suggested with a shrug.

“Seems like cheating.”

“It’s not cheating! It’s using the assets you have to get the job done more efficiently! Jesus, use some Slytherin thinking!”

“I’m not a Slytherin though!” I retorted. I was never cunning enough and I was certainly not an ambitious person.

“Yeah and you don’t see yourself as a Gryffindor either but somehow everyone else does,” Hadriana reminded me. It was true. A whole lot of people including the fucking online quiz kept sorting me in that house. 

“I still don’t understand how enduring through shit can be considered a trait of the House of Lions,” I said. “Shouldn’t that be a Hufflepuff thing?”

“Maybe, but you have a tendency to be impetuous to the umpteenth degree with no ability to filter or curb your impulses. And I believe Snape said it himself: that’s a Gryffindor thing.”

Snape .

“There’s no way he’s celibate,” I stated. “He’s probably got a throng of suitors willing to, if not date him, then they definitely want to fuck him. We need to stomp this attraction out. Just go back to him being a literary crush.”

“Oh, like that’s possible.”

“It could be! I mean they do die out eventually!” I proclaimed. “Besides, do we honestly think he’s legitimately attracted to us enough to actually want to pursue a relationship with us? With a happily ever after until we die and go off on another great adventure never to see him again?”

“There’s no harm in enjoying a fantasy or two.”

“There is when the target is a very real walking, talking, six foot tall, dark and sexy Potions Master I can actually touch!” I gestured wildly with my hands as I talked and shoved them out in the direction of the front door towards what I believed to be Spinner’s End. “And may I remind myself - that’s you, by the way - that despite the fact that we tend to waltz around looking like we’re in our early twenties, we are, in fact, using the biological form of a would-have-been-eleven year old! Some people would consider that kind of illegal.”

“Some people didn’t die in their forties only to find themselves in our position,” she countered. “It doesn’t matter anyways. He hasn’t exactly shown romantic interest or really any kind of interest except for the most basic diving for information that he can give to Dumblefuck. And we didn’t exactly feel him try rooting around in our brains the few times we made eye contact.”

“Which just means the man’s a fucking legilemency ninja and can swoop in and out without a trace.”

Hadriana threw her hands up. “Will you stop being paranoid?”

“I can’t,” I declared. “It’s left over from our past life and it’s not done me any harm all these years. What time is it?”

We both glanced at the clock that showed it was nearly 11:30. “Shit, we’d better go!” I got the sticker book out and pulled up the one that matched the sticker I applied to the bathroom door at the Leaky last night. I put it on the door frame of our front door and then opened the door.

Viola! We just Howl's Moving Castle-d our way to London and the Leaky Cauldron.

Unfortunately this was only a temporary method because the stickers tended to instantly disintegrate after using them so I couldn’t really go back home this way.

I had this theory that if I could make a symbol of my own and burn or apply it in some permanent way, I could make a less temporary yet more convenient method of arriving at places where it was more appropriate to walk in through a door than teleport into the place. But I didn’t have a symbol I designed myself yet and ones I could borrow didn’t feel right to use. So for now, I was using stickers.

Tom gave us both a look of confusion as we passed by since we came out of the hall where the bathroom was located and he didn’t see us come in before. We just keep on walking to the entrance to the back where Diagon Alley was. No one seemed to notice us except for Tom so we got through relatively unhindered. 

I used the holly wand to open the alley and once again step into the Wizarding Quarter.

Chapter Text

We arrived at Gringotts five minutes before our deadline. There were many sets of Goblin eyes staring at us as we stepped inside the bank. It was hard to know why they looked at me like they did, but it was definitely not just my imagination. There were even a couple of those black eyes assessing Hadriana as well, which was quite unlike yesterday as none of them really paid attention to either of us then. 

I felt, weirdly, a little jealous and I didn’t like it.

Since I didn’t really know what else to do, we waited for a teller to open up. It was busy just as it was yesterday. There were precious stones being carted around and examined as well. The goblins took their time doing what they wanted, leaving a definite feeling of, “You’re on our time and you’ll wait if we say so.” even though we were standing at the window staring one of the goblins down the whole time. 

He - were all the Goblins male? - waited a good few more minutes before acknowledging we were there. “What business do you have?”

I took out the letter and handed it to him. “I was delivered this letter yesterday while I was accompanying Miss Potter here to her Trust Vault,” I explained. I noticed his black gaze widened just a touch at the parchment before him, though the dour look didn’t change. “I wasn’t told who to meet with.”

“One moment, Ma’am,” was all he said before disappearing like a shot. 

In what seemed like less than thirty seconds, a pair of guards dressed in different uniforms than those guarding the entrance approached, both wielding spears. The teller led them towards me and for a brief moment, I was both concerned and terrified. Hadriana, who’d let go of my hand while we were waiting in line, retook my hand and squeezed it hard. Nice to know I was not the only one nervous. The three goblins stopped in front of us. “You need to come with us, Miss,” the teller ordered. “This way, please.”

We followed him while the two guards flanked us. I was fairly certain there was at least one person watching us and was probably confused as hell; their minds were probably just buzzing with ideas. Hell, I knew I’d be gawking as well if I was seeing it from another point of view.

We were led to an elevator. Hadriana and I walked in first, the guards second, and the teller last. There were several buttons lining the panel next to the door and beside the panel was a lever. The glass doors slid closed, cutting off the sight of the hallway. 

The Teller pulled the metal folding door shut, securing us inside the lift. “Hold tight, please.”

It was amazing how someone could say ‘please’ while it was obvious they were actually giving an order.

There was a bar that ran half way up and across walls of the potential wood-and-metal death cube. Both Hadriana and I grabbed hold of the bar with the hands that weren’t clasped together.

The Teller said, “Executive floor,” and a trio of panel buttons lit up. The lever lowered on its own and then there was a pause. A very, very brief pause before it felt like gravity had abandoned us. We were zooming, not quite as quickly as when we were on the carts, but fast enough that I had to white-knuckle grip the bar. Nothing like fucking free falling in an elevator! I thought before we jerked to a stop. The goblins didn’t even move an inch during the whole thing. I admired that - but only after my fucking stomach retreated back into it’s normal resting place. 

I heard what sounded like some gears turning before one of the panel lights went dark. Oh boy. We were suddenly flung backwards.

This was worse than the damn carts.

Another sudden stop. Another light went off. And then we’re fucking flying up? What in the seven hells?!

Hadriana’s abandoned the bar completely and was hugging the shit out of me while I was still white-knuckled and clutching the bar for dear life. The Goblins? Still utterly unbothered by the lift’s movement.

We finally came coasting to a stop and the lever lowered itself towards the floor as a bell dinged. Glass-panelled doors opened and the Teller opened the metal folding gate. He walked out, followed by the guards, and looked at me. “This way, please.”

I let go of the safety bar. Hadriana was attached to me like I was her lifeline as we exited the carnival ride disguised as a goddamn transportation device. 

I was too busy trying to reestablish equilibrium to really pay attention to any of my surroundings so I couldn’t exactly go into detail about what the hall looked like. All I could tell you is we were led to a pair of very large, ornate doors similar to those at the bank’s front, guarded by two goblins dressed identical to the ones behind me.

The doors opened into a very lavish chamber just as elaborate as the doors that led into it. Say what you will about goblins, but they know how to show off opulence. The space before me ended a good 20 feet away with what appeared to be a throne upon some steps. It was all very theatrical-looking with more guards lining the pathway. These guys - or girls, I couldn’t tell - were in full roman armor, complete with the helmets that had those feather streamers coming out the top. They were very shiny and very impressive. 

Hadriana wasn’t clutching me to death any longer, but we were holding hands as we went to stand in front of the throne where a goblin sat; a crown on his head, looking like a very regal mofo. I didn’t know if I was happy or disappointed that he looked like a regular, well-dressed goblin, and nothing like King Jareth from Labyrinth. Although, are we honestly even sure Jareth looked that hot normally? Or was it just his magic making him look that attractive?

The world would never know.

Standing to the right of who I could only assume to be the Goblin High King of the Gringotts Nation, was a goblin holding a large staff in his gnarled hands like a walking stick. On the monarch’s left was a miniature, white-marble pillar about the height of an end table. Resting on it was something that looked like… well, it definitely invoked some past life nostalgia. 

It looked like a box my mother had owned once. The box in question had been covered in black velvet-like cloth and it opened with a hinge top. Inside, there had been a beautiful cut glass water lily that would reflect the light with rainbow colours. I used to love watching sun light catch on the glass so it would just dance so prettily.

As with everything else in my old life, it disappeared during the years pending my death. Missing in a scrambled move or stolen by someone; I didn’t know which. I never had anywhere I could put it on display anyhow so it was always put somewhere in hopes I could find a spot eventually. Obviously, I never did.

Maybe I could find something like that in this life or summon it from my memories or something when I get home. With my house in Cokeworth, I had plenty of nice places to display items if I wanted to.

God, I loved having magical powers.

Now how the hell was I supposed to address a Goblin King?

“Your Majesty, this is the human woman who handed me your letter,” The teller informed the king whose eyes were staring at me in that kind of calculating way I’ve found goblins tended to do. So this was King Steelrook, then.

Was I to bow? Was I to do the thing where I put one hand over my chest? Was I supposed to curtsy? How the fuck is one supposed to act in this situation?!

Oh well. Honesty was usually best in situations like these. Please don’t let anyone threaten me for speaking directly to him.

“I ask for your forgiveness, Your Highness,” I said in my most polite tone. I was nervous and it more than likely showed. “I’m afraid I’m not sure how one acts in this situation.”

“In my court I prefer those wearing trousers to bow with their arms crossed over their chest,” King Steelrook informed me. “I do not normally conduct business with humans wearing dresses as I’ve found the males are often handling the business. However the few I’ve dealt with who wear dresses have done what you call a curtsy.”

He had a very lovely voice. Not as lovely as Snape’s but it is very nice indeed.

I smiled, performing the greeting as instructed. “I will attempt to remember this from now on should I ever be summoned by you again, Your Lordship,” I vowed. Hadriana did her best to curtsy in her dress; an action that was unfamiliar to her.

He nodded in acceptance. “First thing before we begin, Madame,” he said and snapped his fingers.

In a blink, Hadriana was gone leaving me horrified.

“What the - ?!” I shouted, although it might have been a shriek, but who the fuck cared?! The Goblin King just vanished my ninja clone!

“Calm yourself, Guest,” the goblin with the staff advised.

“You Kingship just vanished Hadriana Potter,” I replied, most definitely not calming down. Quite the opposite, really.

“Do you think us fools to not see a copied doll before us?” King Steelrook asked. I couldn’t tell if it was stern or not. I was floored by what he called my clone, though. “Your skills are impeccable but the creation was an unneeded casting on your behalf. I merely did you a service.”

“No intentions to disrespect when I say this, King Steelrook, but you just scared the shit out of me !” I snarled. I placed a shaking hand to my forehead. Holy shit, Goblin magic was impressive and terrifying.

“My intention was not to frighten you, My Lady,” he explained. “Merely remove the doll you brought to keep up appearances.”

‘My Lady’? Oh my. What the hell was going down? I was torn between being impressed that they could see the fact that Hadriana wasn’t real, terrified of the unknown before me, and confused at what appeared to sound like a genuine apology for freaking me out.

“No one said I should come alone today,” I reminded him. “You mentioned we’d need to go through Hadriana Potter’s affairs. I believed having her here was needed because I wasn’t told otherwise.”

“An oversight on my part, then, for not being clearer,” the king acknowledged. “One I will attempt to ensure is rectified upon future dealings. However, there is the matter of establishing your identity before we proceed.”

Establishing my identity? You mean they didn’t know for certain who I was? I didn’t know whether to be terrified how they were in the dark or excited to see how they’d figure it out.

The staff-holder removed a sheet of parchment. “Press your finger on the edge of this and hold it there,” he ordered. I looked at it and then at him. “Please,” he added after a moment of silent stand off. It was because he added ‘please’ that I did it. I’m not really up to snuff on how to deal with Fae and Fair Folk so I’m not sure what proper etiquette works. But ‘please’ was always a good step.

Reluctantly - because I hated pain and blood loss equaled pain in my experience - I pressed my index finger against the scroll’s edge and winced as it sliced open the tip. I followed the instructions and kept my finger pressed against it while the document absorbed the blood from the wound. We stayed like that until the red wax and ribbon keeping the scroll sealed turned blue. He pulled it from me while I pulled my hand back and stuck my finger in my mouth, healing it.

Staff-man gave it to the king who breaks the seal and reads to himself what it says. I said nothing but focused between trying to stand still and occasionally glancing around. I also had a thing about not putting my hands in my pockets because I thought it might be a bad idea since pockets held unseen things to a paranoid mind and I was surrounded by armoured goblins with sharp weapons and they seemed very loyal and protective of their monarch.

I kept my hands out of pockets. And my bag. Didn’t want to go rummaging in there either. Just needed to stand there and be patient.

After reading the document I bled on, the King snapped his fingers and out popped another parchment that hovered in front of him. It unfurled via magic and he was now looking between the two as if comparing them.

Why the hell would he be comparing my identity test?

I was not even attempting to hide the confusion on my face at that while the king kept doing whatever he was doing with the scrolls and occasionally having Staff look at the stuff, too. At least if this was in an office I could comfortably sit in a chair and not stand there like a confused and useless lump.

After an eternity, I heard the words: “This appears to be in order.” 

King Steelrook rolled the first parchment scroll up while the second one hovered to rest on the top of the box. He handed it to Staff who in turn offered it to me. I glanced down at the item before glancing up at the two goblins and taking it. Okay. Time to see what the heck one of these things looked like for reals. 

I wonder if identity and inheritance tests differed much?

Name: Charlotte Jane Phelps

Aliases: Daniella Radcliffe 

              Hadriana Linnette Potter

Age: 54

Eyes: (Subject has Heterochromia) Right: Blue Left: Green

Hair: Black

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Alignment: Grey/Neutral

Unique Traits/Abilities: Anima-Tongue

                                        All Speak

                                        Self Replication

                                        Time Manipulation & Travel

                                        Magical Augmentation, Alteration, & Manipulation

                                        Reality Augmentation, Alteration, & Manipulation

                                        Enhanced Healing

                                        Immunity to Unforgivables

Highest Education Level Achieved: Non-Magical American General Education Diploma

Titles: Heir to the Ancient House of Potter 

             Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin

             Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt

             Protector to Those in Their Darkest Hour

             She Who Calms the Destructive Wilds

             Proxy of Magic

             Proxy of Death

             Proxy of Time

Liege Lady of Houses Malfoy, Carrow, LeStrange, Avery, Nott, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, Yaxley

(Inheritance Test required for full rundown of Vassals acquired by Rite of Conquest)

 

I read the thing three times before it began to sink in. Too bad it took 2 more read overs before I could even start to process the words.

You know those gifs with the people just staring and then you have those flashes of really advanced maths things floating in the air?

Yeah. That was me.

What. In. The. Actual. Fuck ? 

“Language, Ms. Phelps. You are in the presence of our King,” Staff Goblin chastised and I looked up at him in shock. Whoops, didn’t mean to say that out loud but still...

“Excuse me, Ser, but I’m having a bit of a crisis here so I can’t exactly filter myself!” I snapped. “For one thing, I haven’t been Charlotte Phelps since I died in the year 2029! In an alternate reality where there is no such thing as the magic of this place and all this stuff around me is from a book series! So the fact that my old name is apparently still recognized as my current name despite everything that’s happened is confusing as hell! Second off, I’m not fifty-four! I wasn’t born in this realm - I’ve been inhabiting the vacated body of Hadriana Potter for the last five years so I don’t know how the test is measuring my age.”

“The identification calculates the age you were in the most recent life upon death and added the five years you have been in a physical body,” Staff informed me. “We are aware of your multiple deaths and rebirths-,”

“What?!”

“But the added numbers are irrelevant and thus your true age has not been stated,” he continued. “In regards to your name, it is the signifier of your true identity. You inhabit Miss Potter’s body but you do not accept that you are Miss Potter. Magic grants you Miss Potter’s identity due to the fact you would have been Miss Potter had your arrival to our world been through the standard rebirth cycle. It was not, however; and, instead of being born, you were stationed as a watching spirit.”

At some point, I started pacing and failed to realise it. “No disrespect, but how the fuck do you even know that?!” I demanded.

“This is not the first time we have met you , Ma’am,” the King stated and I stopped. My eyes had to be huge. “Temporal manipulation and travel,” I recited. 

Both goblins nodded. 

“This test,” King Steelrook summoned the other piece of parchment that he had earlier, “was made in 1967 when a young woman travelled here to share certain methods of increasing the wealth and prosperity of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts. ‘Friend’s Favour Given For Friend’s Favour Owed’ were her words. Do you have any idea what these words mean, Ms Phelps?”

“I’m not versed in the lore and history of the Fair Folk, Your Majesty,” I admitted. “But I’m guessing this person was giving you both a boon while at the same time repaying a debt?”

“That is correct.”

“Okay but I’ve never, in all my previous lives, had the power to travel or manipulate time! That was the one thing I was never granted regardless of what life I lived,” I explained. “And how do I owe you a favour while at the same time giving you something that increased the wealth of your nation?”

“You have been granted the Proxy of Death, Magic, and Time. You are their chosen agent while in this world.”

“HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN?!” I shouted. Some of the guards tensed up, their weapons moving towards me but King Steelrook held his hand up to still them.

“Surely your visions into alternative realities to this realm would give you some idea how that would occur?” Staff questioned. “Were you not a scholar of such things?”

“I read copious amounts of fanfiction,” I countered. “Far more than most people should, I will admit. But that has nothing to do with visions of other realities!”

“How does reading a tale someone wrote of another’s work differ from witnessing the winding paths Fate governs?”

“Because the idea of the content of some of those fics I read being real in some distant pathways is highly disturbing at the very least! You have no idea the sick shite people come up! A lot of what they write is good. Amazing stuff! But I’ve read some fucked up shit, Your Majesty, and the idea that somewhere somehow - oh god I don’t want to think about it!”

Of course this meant I was now thinking about it.

For you people who are playing the home game and think, “Oh, it’s not that bad!” I have two words for you:

My Immortal.

I needed to focus on something else. Right. Now.

“So at some point, I somehow learn how to travel through time - hopefully without horrible side effects or wreaking havoc on the space-time continuum and the timeline as I know it. Obviously you do something for me in response to what I bring you therefore producing a fixed point in time. Jesus, this is it isn’t it? You give me an info dump and eventually I master the abilities given to me as Time’s Proxy to give you… what? Knowledge on how to make magical debit cards?”

I had asked that facetiously but those two just broke into very evil looking grins and my eyes widened again.

“They’re very popular,” King Steelrook informed me. “By our estimates it would have taken us at least two decades beyond this one to properly complete the charms and runes necessary to work in tandem with the Muggle banking system. The gold flows freely and exchange rates have increased. Business is good.”

“And good business means a very happy Goblin Nation with a ruler willing to assist me,” I stated.

“Indeed,” Staff-man said. “Therefore it is in our best interests to ensure you are well informed and have everything you need to to arm yourself.”

“Please don’t mean that literally because I am not very good at physical combat. Or any combat.”

“Grimhatch means that as a figure of speech, my lady,” Steelrook assured me. Oh good, I could stop calling him Staff-man now.

“Those cards must be really good for you guys if you’re helping me out as much as I think you’re going to,” I mused. “The goblins in most fanon are portrayed as being honorable but you are also businessmen. Which means you’re always looking out for the best deal. And the profits and turn around on the cards are obviously good but good enough to help me with all my questions? As well as figure out the Potter Vaults and whatever else I’ve been given? You’ll forgive me, King Steelrook, if I’m a little suspicious.”

“You would be a fool not to be,” the king replied. “And the Powers do not choose fools to be their proxies. Especially should more than one choose the same person. You see, Ms Phelps, we are obligated to Mother Magic to help those who she burdens with the title of her Proxy. You are the enforcer of her will. You have been given the ability to change the flow of magic, to make it bow to your every whim. You could strip the magic from a wixen or even take it away from the entire world if you desired hard enough.”

I’ve read that fic. I don’t want that reality.

“No.”

Grimhatch and Steelrook eyed me. I shook my head vehemently. “I’ve seen that world. I could hear the screams and cries while the world crumbled. There were so many who just barely got by and some were driven mad because of the loss. I will not be the orchestrator to that kind of devastation.”

“Would you strip a Wix of their powers?”

I thought of Dolores Umbridge, the Pink Toad of the MoM. Of the Blood Supremacists like Alecto and Amycus Carrow and how they tortured students. Of Bellatrix Lestrange, whose madness already made her dangerous but coupled with magic made her ten times as uncontrollable as she would have been just dealing with the Black Family Curse.

I also thought of a small boy in an orphanage in the middle of the Blitz. A man who fears the moon and hates himself for something beyond his control. A young blond with a constantly-escaping toad who possesses a love for Herbology and that no one would ever have expected to be the badass he grew up to be. 

“Not unless they give me a reason.”

“Then may they hope they never do,” said Steelrook before waving his hand towards the box that had been sitting to the side. The lid opened and inside was a glass sphere, that looked only slightly bigger than my hand if I put it in a fist, lay nestled in velvet. I looked back at the King.

“You need to place your hand on the orb,” he instructed. “It will tell you what we cannot.”

I nodded and climbed the steps slowly, nervous as hell. I put my hand over it and felt a hum the closer I got to it. It was like some kind of vibrating magnetic pull. I stepped back.

“Okay, I know you’re telling me it will give me information you can’t. But what is it?” I asked as I eyed what very well may have been an ancient relic with intense suspicion.

“The other thing you brought with you,” Steelrook stated.

Well didn’t that sound ominous? 

I looked at Grimhatch and the king. “That doesn’t answer my question or ease my anxieties, Ser,” I said. “I don’t know if you know what a video game is, but I played quite a few of them in my time and something bad tends to happen to people who touch unknown artifacts.”

“You never told us what it was,” Steelrook explained. “Merely that we needed to hold it until today and that it would tell you everything you needed to know.”

“I cannot believe I decided to go cryptic when I freaking hate cryptic crap!” I muttered. “See, I liked it when you told me about the ID test and how I brought you techniques from the future! That was fun! Wait.”

If I came back in time with this in 1967, then how the hell did I give them magical debit card instructions. I wouldn’t even know how to make a regular debit card let alone a magical one.

“Maybe I shouldn’t touch it,” I said after explaining my thoughts. “Because unless that thing takes me to a different plane of existence where some kind of being hands me the instructions after giving me a tutorial on my powers and how to use them, I don’t think I should put my hand on it. Unless I told you to tell me something? Please tell me I gave you guys another code phrase or something!”

“You did, ma’am, but it didn’t make any sense to us.”

I looked at Grimhatch. “Okay?”

“You said for us to tell you, ‘Not all Orbs’.”

I stared at Grimhatch with my mouth open. “ Not all Orbs ?” I repeated. He nodded and I looked to the ceiling. “Why do I do this to myself?” I muttered, irritated. I didn’t really have a clue what that meant but if it was supposed to be comforting, it failed. I couldn’t tell myself “ Good Luck ” or “ The first step’s a doozy ”? I chose “ Not all Orbs ”? 

I sucked.

Fuck it. I might as well do it.

I stepped in front of the box and hoverd my left hand above the glass ball. With a jerk, the damn thing pulled my appendage on top of it. That’s when everything went blank.

Chapter Text

Not all orbs , my ass.

It was hard to tell if the orb transported my whole body or if I was just on the fucking astral plane, but wherever I was had a lot of mist and whiteness. I couldn’t tell if this was Silent Hill or that one annoying opening level of Persona 4 where you just walk forwards until you find that one mysterious shadow.

Also, I was tired of pretending I was the only one here. My life was simply too absurd to be anything but a spectacle. It was time to fully embrace the fact that I was definitely being watched by people on another plane of existence at this point. 

So, yeah, I’m fully embracing my inner Deadpool.

Less painful that way.

I may pretend you don’t exist sometimes, but for the most part, I know you’re there and I embrace you. Also, go get some water or something. Hydrate yourselves while I wander about this freaking barren landscape. I’ll let you know when I find something.

…

…

…

Okay. 

I’ve found a door.

I stared at it, cocking my head side to side. It was just standing there. No walls beside it; nothing holding it up. Just your regular wooden door in the mist. Standard brass colored round, ball handle. I was literally walking in a circle around this weird thing. 

I hesitantly grabbed the knob, twisted, and pulled it open. 

And it leads to…

A hallway.

A long ass hallway that looked like it belonged in the hotel from the Shining.

Nope!

I think I’ll go look for another door in the misty wasteland. One that doesn’t invoke horror movie nightmares.

I closed the door and then continued on into the fog.

After going forward for an unknown amount of time, I stumbled upon something else. Not a door this time, but a telephone box. Not the TaRDiS blue police box (because that would have been awesome) but the standard red one found commonly around non-magical Britain.

It was also locked.

So we’ve got a door leading into a hallway from the Overlook Hotel and a locked British phone box. I could hardly see a connecting factor between these two. I pushed on because I was not yet convinced to go back to enter door number one. Yet.

Wait a minute. Why was I limiting myself with going one direction? I can make fucking clones of myself and spread out, cutting exploration time! Why didn’t I think of that before?

Trying not to slap myself for not realizing this sooner, I cast Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.

…

Nothing. I tried again.

…

Um, Houston, we have a problem.

Narrowing my eyes, I inhaled deeply trying not to panic. Maybe I was just having a touch of dissonance from the teleportation via the orb. That happens. I just had to take a few breaths and center myself and then we should be good again.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. Feel for a core thread. 

…

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. Feel for a core thread.

…

It’s okay. This can take some time. Just gimme a few seconds. It’ll come to me. 

.... 

…

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. You guys, just go take a bathroom break or something and come back. I’m just gonna take a bit. It’s all under control, okay?

 ...

Okay, it’s taking a little bit longer than normal. Everything is fine. Just gotta concentrate harder is all.

Everything is fine !

...

…

Ladies and Gentlemen, I think I’m fucked.

I can't use my powers. I can’t even feel them.

They were gone. I couldn’t find even the smallest strand or pulse within me and the loss was ten times worse than it had been in my last life.

Because in my last life, I was born without powers. It was as if I had been born without a limb: I knew it should have been there but it wasn’t. Although I had the memory of them, I was left without the feeling of them. It was hell but I bared through it. I never wished to go through the experience again. I didn’t feel trauma in regards to not having them, just the shallow sting of memories.

But this? This was like finding a limb has been freshly amputated and you didn’t realize you’d been wearing a prosthetic! And the limb was in perfect working order. To the very core, I felt violated and now couldn’t help but wonder what kind of farcical game I’d been tricked into participating in.

I could hear someone screaming.

It took me far too long to realize that it was coming from me.

I only stopped screaming because my throat hurt. My emotions felt like they’ve been put through a cheese grater. How the fuck was to I deal with this while also getting out of this mess I’ve put myself into?!

“I did warn Magic that doing this was a stupid idea, but she’s hardheaded.”

…

Okay, that wasn’t me. But it was a familiar, and more masculine voice.

“Oh good! Your ears are working. We just have to get the rest of you up to par.”

What the fuck?

“She’s, uh... really gotten a bad habit of swearing, doesn’t she?” Drawled a second, also familiar and masculine-sounding, voice. I whirled around, trying to see if the voices had bodies I could locate.

“I’m in a very bad emotional state right now which I haven’t been in since I was first killed and placed into an unalterable cycle reincarnation with no end, so whoever is talking, show yourself because I can’t fucking handle anymore attacks to my system!” I warned, anger welling up where panic laid just minutes ago.

“Well at least you aren’t catatonic,” said the second voice. “I don’t think either of us have the training or capabilities to gently get you out of that.”

Oh god. I just realized that voice number two sounded like Stephen Fry.

“Oh, good. I wondered if I sounded right,” said Voice Two. “It’s so difficult when you’re trying to find a form to take on that you get rather mixed up and can easily make a mistake.”

Out from the mist came a pair of figures, both male and - Holy shit! It’s not just Stephen Fry but Hugh Laurie? What the-

“If you could lay off using the f-bomb for the third time in less than as many minutes,” the Hugh Laurie-looking one requested, “it’d be a nice change of pace.”

“How and who?!”

“Pardon?” Stephen Fry asked. 

“How are you reading what’s in my head and who are you?” I demanded.

“Not one for basking in the glory of confusion are you?” Hugh asked.

“Only when I’m safe,” I retorted. “Also, I’ve just found out I’ve been stripped of my powers and stuck inside a weird orb with no seeable way out; I think we can agree I don’t feel safe.”

“Well if you want someone to blame for that, you can blame Magic,” Stephen said. “She thought it would be a good idea.”

“Magic hasn’t been playing with a full deck for the last few decades in this dimension so her logical thinking is shot to hell and back,” Hugh added. “Otherwise she’d see the phenomenal flaw in testing the person who did not volunteer to become her Proxy.”

Given the way they were talking, I could only conclude they meant Magic - as in the embodiment and not the force of energy.

“Ten Points to Gryffindor.”

“First of all: I refuse to go to Gryffindor, so your sentiment is invalid. Second: from the way you talk about Magic, as if she was a person and by mentioning I’m her proxy, then I think it’s fair to assume you two are Powers as well.” 

“Bingo!” Hugh declared, pointing the cane he was holding towards the sky. “We’ll buy you dinner if you can guess which ones.”

“Do I need to specifically guess or just make a general one?”

They both shrugged as I looked between them. “Well since Magic locked me in here, I’ll go with you two being Time and Death since I’m apparently their proxies as well.”

“Obvious guess is obvious,” Hugh stated. “You’re right though. Death and Time, at your service. Or rather you’re in ours. Congrats on being hired.”

I felt a headache accumulating from the stress as Stephen agreed with Hugh. “We plan to have you act on our behalf for a good while so be prepared for a long career in both the fields of Time and Death. Oh, and Magic, if she hasn’t screwed herself with this. That’s the biggest one after all. Not that we’re second and third place in importance, but acting on her behalf is a lot more relevant for day to day dealings.”

“You speak as if I have a choice in this.” I looked at them. “And like I even have a clue what a proxy would do.”

“Well the job isn’t that difficult,” Stephen assured me. “We just need you to go out and be our representative of sorts in the world you’re in. This would all be so much easier to converse about if we were settled around a table with  tea and snacks. Are you still adverse to entering either of our little hideaways you passed by?”

“You mean the alternative TaRDiS and the doorway to the hotel from the Shining? Not so much anymore now that I know who manages them. Although, I really can’t handle it if anyone pops more sh- er, surprises on me.”

“There goes my Dementor meet and greet idea,” Hugh mused.

“Please tell me that was sarcastic.”

Hugh looked at me. “Nope. Eventually you’re going to have to meet a few of the older kids to learn their names so you can identify them should you have to meet them in a more real-world setting. You’re well versed in canon. You know some events are set in stone.”

“Like a Dementor getting on the Hogwarts express trying to find Sirius Black?” I asked. Hugh nodded, waving his cane in the air again. Stephen summoned his British phone box and took out a small golden key that had what looked like little clockwork gears decorating the head of it. Very pretty. “I honestly thought you were going to enter Death’s Door since it was closer to your landing,” he explained. I was guessing ‘Death’s Door’ was not the euphemism it normally was but rather an actual doorway. “I mean, after you two met and conversed, you would have gotten my key to enter the Box next. It’s a shame it didn’t quite work out like that.”

“Well I’m not exactly a fan of horror movies,” I stated as I watched him open the door. Which was true. I was more into horror games because I could pretty much control the fear and stop it easier than with films. “Now if the doorway had led into the manor from the movie Clue, I would have gone in immediately. That place for some reason invokes trust in me.”

“It’s probably because of Tim Curry. Bitches love Tim Curry,” Hugh, or rather, Death, stated. “Hell, I love Tim Curry.”

“So do I,” Stephen, or as I now know him to be Time, agreed. He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. “Damn shame what happens to him.”

“What the hell are you guys doing?!” New voice. Feminine. Very angry. That must be Magic.

“Good guess,” Death said and we all looked at the rather fuming female figure who looked… well actually, I didn’t recognize the person she chose to borrow the form of.

“I’m JK Rowling, you ignorant, ungrateful child! How can you be so deep in the lore of Harry potter and forget the face of the woman who brought it to life?!” she screeched.

“Probably because as much as I love the universe, I hate her choices and a lot of her views,” I retorted. Anger was bubbling back up within me since this being - Magic  -  appeared. She was the one who violated me by closing off the connection to my powers.

“Anyway,” Magic clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes before pointing an accusatory finger at Death and Time. “Why are you two interfering? I have to test my Proxy to see if she’s worthy and you two just come waltzing in here messing around with my plans?”

“This isn’t strictly your realm now is it?” Time questioned pleasantly. “The Orb is a shared space which you seem to have forgotten. Must have slipped your mind.”

Anger quickly melted into a face of realization before turning into anger again. “Still doesn’t mean you can interfere.”

"If you think essentially doing nothing but stripping her of her magical powers and leaving her in the middle of a foggy wasteland without direction is a ‘test’, then you need to go have a class with Knowledge.”

“Oh, like you had a better idea?”

“I didn’t need to because she didn’t volunteer for being our Proxies,” Death stated. “All we’re supposed to do is educate her on what her job entails. What were you going to test her with?”

“Obviously she needs to learn how to properly wield me before I can confirm she’s worthy to be my representative,” Magic said pompously.

“Magic, you’ve already confirmed her as your Proxy,” Time sighed. He sounded like he was explaining things to a two year old and like they’ve had this conversation before. “She’s passed the interview and skill check portion of the job. You’ve essentially violated the rules through this little hare-brained scheme of yours. And, you cannot revoke her title unless she commits an egregious violation, which she won’t, thus you’re going to have to act like a big girl and stop being ridiculous.”

“You’re not my boss! You can’t tell me what to do, Time!”

Great. I was watching JKR throw a childish tantrum. There was something I never thought I’d see. The urge to punch Magic in the face was quite strong right then. Death leaned over to me and whispered, “Don’t do it. It’s one of those rules we’ll get around to explaining what you can and can’t do.”

“Perhaps I’m not your boss, but I’m sure our mutual one would be very displeased with your actions if we ask him to come around and mediate,” Time continued. “I’m also sure that I could summon other family members and they’d be more than happy to side with us. Especially since you know some of them would love the chance to take her as their Proxy should you lose dibs.”

“Dibs?” I asked Death, confused.

“When you were being reincarnated into this universe and dimension, Fate graciously said that she was changing the rules a bit with this version of Harry Potter since things got messed up and three of us could name you our Proxy. Said it helped balance out the ‘boo boos’. Those are her exact words, I’m not a paraphrasing. Anyway, Knowledge and Chaos didn’t want it since you weren’t a good fit for them. Fate felt like they were in your life enough that it would just be overkill if they deemed you theirs. Space and Order were on the fence. Hate refuses to take a Proxy since they risk violating the rules. Light and Dark said you were too middle-ground for them. Love, Reality, Fantasy and Life were all trying to make their case when Magic came along and called dibs on the third spot, stealing it from the others. They were very irritated that she did that.”

“It’s not my fault they weren’t quick enough,” Magic declared snootily.

“Yes, well it is your fault seeing as you seem to have forgotten that, as you gave her the title without her consent, you cannot test her to see if she’s worthy,” Time reminded her. “If she had volunteered to take on the mantle, then you could have put her through some trials, but you just blundered in and gave her the job. And given how your actions harmed her, I’m pretty sure I can find three more of our compatriots who would vote against you.”

“She’s fine!” Magic snapped. “Look at her!”

I growled and shouted, “You violated me, you fucking bitch! You stole my powers from me after I was brought here! If it wasn’t for these two, I’d be on the ground petrified because I’d have no idea what to do! So why don’t you go fuck yourself, yeah? I didn’t want to be in this damn place, but I was told it would answer my questions. You fucking dare assume that I’m unharmed after you essentially ripped a vital part of me away? I’ve been without powers before - I went my entire previous life without them and it was horrible! Not to mention that I was locked up for a majority of the time! You have no idea how much I want to rip your face off!“

I tried to run at her and attack. I was so pissed off but Death grabbed me and held me back. Time stepped between Magic and me, staring Magic down with extreme disappointment. “Return her powers and then leave us to deal with her, Magic,” he advised. “Otherwise, I will call upon our brothers and sisters and they will force your hand. I’m very certain they’re already aware of what you’ve done and are likely to retaliate anyway.”

“Go ahead!” She challenged. “I’m sure they’ll agree with me and see how I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Right, then,” Death said in a rather gleeful tone. He was still holding onto me, even though I was not rampaging or actively trying to attack Magic anymore. “I call upon our fellow Powers, our brethren of might and the counterparts to ourselves. I summon thee, oh fellow Divines, to act as judge and jury to the challenge we are faced.”

What happened after Death said that, well… it wasn’t exactly chaos but there was so much going on that I think I’m gonna have to start a new chapter in order to relay the events that followed.

Chapter Text

As I worked to put what happened next into words, I found I wasn’t allowed to. I was told I couldn’t give out the details of what transpired, for my ability to describe certain individuals was… lacking.

As much as I wanted to disagree with that, I was well aware that my poor brain gets dizzy and my equilibrium’s shot whenever I try to jot it all down.

So, unfortunately, I could only give you the bare bones of “The Great Gathering of Powers Meeting Number Twelve”. (I’m not kidding: that was exactly what it was called.)

Not every Power answered the summons to come. According to Death, this is normal since, outside of the great God Almighty calling them together, they did have the option to not answer the summons. But we did have enough attending the meeting to fulfill the goal.

And boy: was Magic a screeching, angry mess when the crew voted overwhelmingly against her.

To be honest, I couldn’t understand how Magic thought the statement, “ She’s my Proxy and I can do what I want, ” would hold up against Time and Death’s combined efforts. I’m not alone in that since Knowledge and Order had expressions of “You are dumber than a box of hair” on their faces. Ten Powers attended and three voted in favour of Magic. Magic voted for herself. Chaos voted for her because it was so stupidly insane Chaos said they couldn’t not vote for Magic. And Evil voted for Magic because, and I quote, “To bring harm to a Proxy and completely disregard the sacred rules placed by the God Almighty that protects one’s chosen, acting on their behalf, is definitely my cup of tea.”

Given how Magic still didn’t seem to realise, even after her speech, that she’d done a major no-no, I was thoroughly convinced Magic was just delusional. Whether this was normal, or a sign of something worse going on behind the scenes, was hard to tell. I refused to speculate farther.

Still, Magic was found guilty of her deeds and her punishment had to be determined by the Almighty. 

As someone went to take care of the sentencing, I got the pleasure of learning from Time and Death. And to hang out with the other Powers who answered the call. This allowed me some very interesting conversations and Q&A sessions. 

Reality liked to ask if I planned to continue to alter the world to suit my needs. I said yes since I had to do something to make myself safe and give me some kind of security. They said not to go overboard and ‘ for the sake of all that’s holy, don’t fuck up. ’ So that was their blessing. They also mentioned I should make sure I have enough shelf space. An odd statement that I filed under “think about later”.

Chaos and Evil said hello and then left so I didn’t really get the chance to talk with them. Fantasy congratulated me on having a healthy imagination and then proceeded to have a conversation that felt oddly reminiscent of Eric Idle’s “wink wink, nudge nudge; Say no more” sketch. They left after a bit and told me to be sure and indulge them often as they ‘were so much fun ’.

Order didn’t have much to say since they and Knowledge had tasked themselves to escort Magic to the Almighty for punishment distribution. Damn shame because I would have loved to ask Knowledge if what I knew of canon would be applicable. I tried asking Reality but they said that was probably Knowledge’s realm. Or Fate’s.

Speaking of Fate.

She reminded me of Luna Lovegood in the way she held conversations. The talk felt multi-layered but simplistic at the same time.

It didn’t help that the physical form they chose to wear was Evanna Lynch so I was just getting inundated with Luna when it came to Fate.

My conversation with Fate wasn’t as much a conversation as it was me trying to follow and respond as best I could. She was jumping to so many different things and she saw me doing it as well, so the whole interaction was rather confusing. Though, it was still probably more rewarding than a sit down with Sybill Trelawney. Who Fate apparently didn’t like as the woman drank too much to truly work on her gift properly. I walked away with the knowledge that Trelawney had great potential but she coasts too much and doesn’t use all the tools at her disposal. I also learned that I should really work on doing better, otherwise all the fun things planned for me weren’t going to get done and, honestly, I think I deserved to have as much nice stuff happen as possible, don’t you?

‘Saved by Death’ was a line I never thought would exist in my repatior but there you go. He (basically, if it wasn’t clear before, none of the powers had a gender seeing as gender identity and gender expression are entirely subjective and fluid, but many of them choose a form and go with it. Death looks like Hugh Laurie and just uses he/him pronouns.) swept me away from the dizzying conversation with Fate, telling Fate that he and Time needed to get me settled to learn my duties as Proxy. Fate just shrugged with a smile and waved goodbye.

“The Luna Lovegood vibes are strong with that one,” I muttered as Fate left. Death chuckled and I looked at him. “What?”

“Not my secret to tell. Come on.”

“What does that supposed to mean, ‘not your secret to tell’?” I asked. “Is Fate somehow connected to Luna?”

“Who knows? She’s probably just a fan.”

I shook my head in disagreement. “That was not a passive chuckle,” I insisted. “That was the chuckle of someone who knows something important and juicy and won’t tell the rest of the class. And the rest of the class wants to hurt them because they’re keeping the secret,” I added, narrowing my eyes at the man.

“Yes, well, the rest of the class will have to find out the secret on their own because I’m not allowed to reveal other Powers’ business if I can avoid it. Or if I don’t want to. It’s too much fun to keep information to myself and watch you flail about.”

I shot him a glare. “Great way to build trust, Death. Anything else I need to know that I can’t know? Wanna let me flounder about with the knowledge that I can’t save some people despite how much I should have that ability?”

“Now you’re just being petulant.”

“Doubt it. It would be my luck that I have phenomenal cosmic power to do what I want and I’m cockblocked into seeing people I care for die despite the fact I should be able to stop it from happening. Should I start mourning Severus Snape’s death again? I haven’t properly cried in a while from a broken heart, should we fix that? Or maybe I should focus on Fred Weasely’s death by wall? How about Mad-Eye Moody’s fate or Remus Lupin’s shitty canon life?”

“What’s going on?” Time asked as we approached his phone box.

“She’s pitching a fit,” Death commented dismissively.

“I’m not pitching a fit,” I countered. “I’m remarking about how Death apparently knows something but won’t tell me and now I have to wonder what else he knows and if I’m going to be forced to stand by while people I want to live have to die!”

“What in the world did you say for her to go on a tangent?” Time asked in disbelief.

“She made a remark on how our dear sister Fate reminded her of Luna Lovegood,” Death explained. Time’s eyebrows raised and he nodded. “That explains it.” He then looked at me. “Listen, Charlotte. Is it alright to call you Charlotte or…?”

“Since that test still had me identified by my previous life’s name so I guess. Although, I’m really freaking confused about all that. Also, am I still Magic’s Proxy in light of what she’s done?”

“Excellent question. Come on in, both of you. We’ll have a chat about all that over some tea. I know I’m quite parched after that mess.”

We entered his phone box and the nerdy part of me was rather disappointed to find that the interior looked nothing like the TaRDiS control room. Instead, there was a well-tended garden area surrounded by high hedges. There was already a full tea service out on the round table in the center; a white-painted wrought iron number with three matching chairs.

As I got closer to it, I saw that it wasn’t just a standard iron-garden setup either. The top of the table held a giant clockwork assembly with cogs in motion, trapped beneath glass. It was an impressive piece and something I wish I could visually show but alas it would be impossible. Time pulled out a chair for me to sit in like a gentleman before he and Death got into their seats.

“Now, if I recall, you enjoy the cucumber, yes?”

I nodded. He began to place several assorted triangles from the platter of tea sandwiches onto my plate. “I’ll add in a tomato and a roast beef one as well,” he commented. “See how you enjoy them.”

I took the plate with a quiet ‘thank you’ and he served Death before giving himself a helping. A nice cuppa was prepared for me, just as I liked it, only a moment later. I could have easily gotten distracted and forgotten our conversation from earlier if I wasn’t trying so hard not to enjoy this setup. I mean, I’m kind of having tea with Fry and Laurie. It was too easy to get caught up in that.

“Now,” began Time, “You, no doubt, have questions that we may have answers to. We may not have all of them, but we should be able to convey enough to get you comfortable.”

“And if we don’t, we’ll pretend like we do,” Death joked. “Have fun trying to guess the truth.”

Time narrowed his eyes at his sibling before looking back to me. “Now, as we’ve already explained, I’m the physical embodiment and representation of Time. You waste me, save me, travel through me, and never have enough while at the same time having too much of me! Pleasure to make your official acquaintance. This is my brother Death, physical embodiment of said power and all around snark-master.”

“Oh, please,” Death scoffed. “I’m hardly a snark-master. I’m an experienced student at most. You can never truly master snark.”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t master death, either, but people still try,” I replied. “Besides, if you’ve not mastered snark, and you’ve been around this long and will be here longer than anyone, I’m pretty sure no one will.” I took a sip of my tea while Death flashed me a smirk. “I knew I would like you,” he said.

“Well I hope so given how often you take part in my life,” I returned. “If things were any different all those aeons ago, I’d likely never know you. Now I can’t avoid you no matter what. Although, this is the first time we’ve ever actually talked.”

“At least you don’t take me as a spiteful destroyer. That outlook gets old.”

“Rather be seen as the merciful escort to the unknown?”

“Hell no, that can be just as bad,” he stated. “I’m just what I am. An undeniable force that no one can truly escape. An end and beginning. Some welcome me, most fear me, others hate me.”

“Don’t forget how some want to fuck you,” I reminded him. “I recall a Marvel supervillain being one of them.”

“You never got to see that movie.”

“I didn’t get to do a lot of things but I got to have moments of enjoyment and I ended up being content more often than not. This time around it’s better.”

“As we hope it will continue to be,” Time said, reentering the conversation. “And it will, as long as we can make sure you know what you need to know. And what you need to do.”

“Well, I’m aware I’m apparently going to time travel. The goblin’s story confirms that. Although, I really would like to know how I could hate myself so much that I only left the vague advice ‘ Not all orbs ’, not to forget the fact that I willingly subjected myself to being ripped apart from my magic.”

I looked at one of the hedges and willed a rose to grow and bloom. I felt profound relief when it did. “Luckily, it seems to be back.”

“Magic violated some serious absolutes when she did what she did to you,” Time assured me. “The Almighty will not look at that kindly. He put the laws in place. I don’t know how much you're aware of religion but he can be quite… erm, cranky if a law is broken. Well more than one at the same time.”

“As someone who grew up predominantly among the Christian mythos last life, I am aware God had a very big temper issue. He mellowed out a bit in the New Testament though. I think having a kid helped. I’ve heard that’s what happens for some.”

“Maybe you’ll know one day.”

I let out a wheezing laugh before looking at Death with my most fearsome face. “Oh hell no. I have no intent on breeding,” I stated firmly. “All the bleeding and everything that would happen afterwards is enough to traumatize me by just imagining it. Even if I didn’t die young most of the time, I was either sterile or forced into celibacy for the rest. I’d prefer to keep that up, thank you.”

“Even if you could give a certain Potions Master or other very attractive individuals you’ve lusted after an heir?” Death asked with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of tea. “I will gladly admit I am rather attractive in this life but there is no way Severus Snape is going to want to be with me like that .”

Death muttered something that sounded like, “Not with that attitude he won’t ,” but I ignored it and continued, “Nor will anyone else I had a very vivid fantasy-run with in my imagination in my past life. It’s because it’s only that: a fantasy. And, despite Fantasy saying I should indulge her every so often, I’m partial to believing she means I should give into daydreams and thinking up scenarios of events. Now does that mean I won’t get involved in the storyline of this verse? No. I can’t escape that. But I’m not going to chase after heartbreak and unobtainable men in the hopes I can make my fanfic-inspired romances reality. Would I enjoy trying to romance several members of the cast of Harry Potter? Yes. Would I love the idea of having mad, passionate, mind blowing sex with all the characters I made a list for? Hell yes! Will I actually do it? No. Just because someone has a rape fantasy doesn’t mean they want to be raped.”

“You’ve been handed a golden opportunity to attempt to indulge in your dreams and you’re not going to do it?”

“I’m not actively going to force it to happen like some crazy-ass isekai person,” I insisted.

“But if the opportunities and situations happened, surely you’d want to do it?”

I glanced at Time before picking up a sandwich triangle. I took a bite of the cucumber and cream cheese snack, chewed and swallowed. “Reverse harems do not happen in reality and they don’t truly lead to everyone being happy. Polyamory is a thing and can be attained. But with most of these guys as the members of one? There is absolutely no way that could happen - especially if this place is anything remotely like canon. Fanon, maybe, but that’s a serious stretch and verging into crack-fic territory, which I’d rather not be a part of.”

“And if you could have them all and they’d live in harmony as well as they could?”

“I think I’d be utterly and completely knackered with all that sex,” I stated. “A fun idea but I would enjoy having some time to play video games, read, watch videos and tv. You know, my favorite non-sexual activities. Maybe watch Snape brew. Watch Draco or Oliver play Quidditch. Read by the fire with Lucius. Run in the woods with Moony and Sirius as animals.”

“What else?” Time asked.

I glanced between him and Death. “Is there a point to this? I don’t see how it means anything. I believe I’m here for an info dump and lesson on what to know. I don’t see what my ideal past times with lusted-after characters will do any good.”

“Maybe we’d like to get to know you,” Death suggested. “After all, you are our Proxy. It’d be nice to know these things.”

“And you couldn’t find it out through watching me through my past lives?”

“Maybe,” Death replied. “But it’s nice to talk with a subject every so often. Besides,” he took a drink of tea, “we don’t really get to have a lot of conversations like this. It’s a change from the norm.”

I couldn’t imagine that was true so I just nodded. “But still,” I said, “I don’t know how time works in this place. Is it still passing? Is it frozen? Is it accelerated? I’d rather get to know what I need to and figure out how long it’s gonna be until I get back. Apparently, Olivander’s got a wand for me and I am rather intrigued to know how he seems to have one specifically for me.”

“Well you did say you were going to travel through time,” Time reminded me. “I should think that’s how.”

“But even so, it still makes no sense as to why he would have a wand for me,” I countered. “ Apparently, I’ve set some weird-ass stuff up for myself, yet I failed to leave a letter or instructions on what the fudge I’m supposed to do. I haven’t even read the books, which are, apparently, written by a woman with the same name I’m using as a cover.”

“Ah, yes,” Time hummed. “The Daniella Radcliffe persona. A joke that’s ended up quite serious for you.”

“Well the name choice was more of a joke than her initial creation,” I explained. “I had to do something. There was going to be a lot of questions and way too much attention should I have kept being just a kid or an adult, or whatever form I chose for the day..”

“Some people change genders, you fluctuate based on age groups.”

“I never could find balance on what age I was. Gender? I never cared. I had ‘female’ parts but sometimes I didn’t feel particularly one way or the other. I mostly identified as female because of my parts. I didn’t really care or take pride in being a woman. Still don’t. I don’t have a clue what that makes me.”

“Accepting,” Time answered. “Because it wasn’t just with yourself you held no prejudice for when it came to how people viewed their sexuality or what gender they were.”

“As long as it was consenting.”

“As long as it was consenting,” he echoed. “Or they were content. You’ve always found contentment to be something to strive for.”

“I did have some joy. I just valued contentment more.”

“You valued it more because it was easier to obtain and more abundant than joy and happiness.”

I frowned at Death. “You think that’s a crime?” I asked. “I found happiness in my contentment.”

“You could have more this time around,” Time replied. “You could have it all.”

“But I don’t want it all,” I emphasized. “Yes, I do want something. Yes, I’ll try to work to get them. But I know how to make myself happy if they don’t happen. I know how to be content. I know what to do when the world will get to be too much or when it’s not enough and I’m left feeling empty. I’m going to do my best if I find myself alone but not lonely. I know how to satisfy myself.”

“Yeah well you need to get some satisfaction from more than your own hand this time,” Death commented. “Even if it ends up with you and a horcrux bumping uglies. Or a no-nosed psychopath pins you against a headstone and eats out your-.”

“That’s quite enough on that imagery, thank you,” Time interrupted. “I think we should change the subject and get on with the - what did you call it? Info dump. Yes, a nice info dump.”

And holy shit, did they ever.

It was a damn good thing time wasn’t moving in the world outside this realm because FUCK ! This was going to take some processing.

Apparently, I could travel through time, just like my inheritance said (I couldn’t do that before now despite my impressive powers). I could now stop time around me or in localized areas, which, if you ever read the extreme incidents in Potions’ Class and the explosions that happen, I think you will all agree that time manipulation in those areas will be handy. I can already envision several opportunities that I would be tempted to abuse that power but I won’t because I’m not a dick! 

“Now you can interact with yourself if you need to when you are time travelling, but I think you’d probably like to avoid that since you’d give yourself a rather large headache,” Time told me, filling my cup with more tea. I nodded. “After what happened today, I’d likely try to find and punch my future self. Wait, will that cause some kind of weird Time Cop melding-together shite if I touched the me of a different time?”

“No, but it’s still a good idea to not touch yourself unless you absolutely need to. I’ve learned there’s a type of frictional dust that can build around a person when they travel through time.”

“You mean like the void dust from Doctor Who?”

“Yes, however, this dust can make you itchy if you get too much of it on you and you can accumulate even more if you touch another time traveler, or yourself from a different point. It will go away eventually if you take enough time in what is considered ‘present’, but don’t go running around all willy-nilly, please.”

I nodded in understanding. “I honestly can’t think of many moments I would want to go back to anyway. I have a few spots I’d like to go to, but I still don’t think I’d do it very often.”

“Which is why I made you my proxy. You have respect for chains of events while at the same time, a good mind not to meddle too often. I do expect you to have at least one or two frivolous trips because what’s the point in not having those every so often.”

“Is there any point that you’d forbid me to go to?”

“No,” Time told me. “I’ll leave that up to your own discretion. Just know some points and events can’t be changed. They are fixed and no matter if you do try to change it, they will still happen. But they aren’t all fixed. The book's timeline and events aren’t all set in stone. Perhaps… You can make things better.”

“Or perhaps I’d fuck up everything so bad it can’t be fixed.” I ate the rest of my triangle. “Still, it’s nice to give me the ability and I’ll treasure it while trying not to abuse it.”

“Good. Oh! One more thing before I give Death the floor: You’re free to play around with technology that’s not in the timeline. In fact, I’m giving you a smartphone to help you perform your business. You’re welcome.”

A package appeared in front of me and I looked down at the box. It had a rose gold ribbon keeping it closed and I looked from it to Time and back again.

“Well go on!” he encouraged. I blinked and then opened my present. Inside was what appeared to be a high-end smartphone from the year 2020 and on. It had a nice, large screen size, good for gaming if I could do that, and it was in silver as opposed to the normal black of the old one I had in my previous life. I picked it up and examined it, my lips twitching at the picture of brass cogs on the back where you would see the logo. The silver metal actually had some rainbow tints to it now that I looked more closely. I made note of how it looked like the rainbow, titanium cutlery I received for Christmas one year.

“I’ve got you connected to a special communications network but you’ll be able to get onto the standard internet of the time when it comes into existence for you. I’ve also downloaded a few games on there that don’t exist yet for when you’re bored. Be mindful when playing them because you can’t exactly send a bug report. You can hard reset though.” My eyes got wider in awe as I looked back down at my phone. “Now no one is going to be able to see that except for your followers,” Time explained. “However I’d be a little wary using it too much around them since at least one of them might-.”

Wait a minute.

“Did you just say followers?” I asked in disbelief.

“Oh right. You don’t know about that yet,” Time said. “Yes, I did. You, Charlotte Phelps-Daniella Radcliffe-Hadriana Potter, are going to acquire followers. You can’t escape it given what you’re going to do, I’m afraid.”

“That implies I’m going to actually be some kind of leader worth following,” I commented.

“Not intentionally but it will happen. That’s how it usually goes with people in your place.”

“But I can barely make friends, least of all keep them ! How the hell am I supposed to handle followers?!” I ask.

“Minions are far easier to deal with,” Death assured me. “And I don’t mean the little banana-yellow guys.”

“But what would I even do with followers?!” I flashed to Voldemort and the Death Eaters as my most recent example of a leader and his followers. “I’d prefer to avoid being like that jack ass.”

“You don’t have it in you to be like Voldemort anyways,” Time said. “You have a sense of morality and empathy. Although the empathy tends to get skewed with you, you at least make an effort. Of course,” he grimaced, ”you also have a tendency to lose your ability to give a damn after a while.”

“You can blame that on past life depression coming over with me as part of my emotional baggage,” I retorted. “As well as certain prejudices. I’m no blank slate, Time. Regardless of how I started, I’m now very much human. My celestial origins are non-existent by now.”

“For the record,” Death butted in,” the consequential fall-out of their actions was glorious. Though it took a millenia.”

I frowned, an age old bitterness I thought long gone bubbled up. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I stated. “It’s done. It happened. I’m dealing. The time travel I hope you’ve limited me to the Harry Potter dimension, right? It’d be really fucking weird to do anything else.”

Time assured me I was limited to only this realm and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want that much freedom. It was too dangerous. Plenty enough to do in this place. I guess that was another reason why I was named Proxy: I lacked an intense desire to change things or exercise my abilities. I should ask him why he gave me the job.

“Because I couldn’t find anyone I liked better,” Time explained. “And you’re extremely experienced in different magics. You don’t use your talents to exert control over others nor do you flagrantly disregard your surroundings. You always ask the question, ‘Does this need to happen?’ and very rarely do you get the answer no and still say, ‘I’ll make it happen regardless.’”

“So what you're saying is I showed I was a good girl and acted responsibly,” I summed up.

“That’s pretty much it, yes.”

“Okay, so that’s why Time gave me the job. What about you?” I eyed Death. 

He was quiet and I felt like I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “My reasons are very similar to my brother’s,” he finally answered. “But the biggest reason? You’re never going to be able to rest no matter how many times you die. Every soul is allowed to rest before moving onto their next life or eternal damnation or reward. You? You, Miss Phelps-Radcliffe-Potter, will never be allowed to stop. You are damned. Your brethren damned you to eternally be thrown into life after life until you finally burn out your mind and soul and even then, even when there is nothing left but me and the void, you will be there. It will only be us.”

My throat started constricting and tears spilled out of my eyes as he confirmed my ultimate fate. I won’t lie: I had known it was bad. You don’t spend multiple lifetimes with your memories intact. It’s not supposed to happen. There’s supposed to be a moment where you rest. A time of renewal. One isn’t supposed to be constantly hurled into the stream of reincarnation without a wipe out of the baggage you accrue over time. But I had been. And I was going to remain in that cycle until there was nothing left anywhere.

This, I think, was the first time I’ve ever sat down and processed that and really really realized that I was very much damned.

Time gently took my hand and clasped it between his own. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” he said softly. It felt like he was miles away while still sitting next to me.

It was as bad as the feeling of my magic being forcibly stripped from me. Except this wasn’t a fault of the Powers. Not like with Magic. This had been a punishment inflicted on me by people who had deemed me unfit as a Celestial Being. People whose views clashed with mine and thought I was demeaning them by not bowing down to their will. Then, later, just by existing. 

I think y’all can see one of the reasons I get very angry about issues of prejudice now.

I didn’t want to think about this. 

I didn’t want to remember this. 

I wanted to leave some painful memories in the past.

Today was apparently a day for cutting open old wounds.

I finally registered Death calling my name and I blinked, turning to look at him. Boy, did he appear miserable. I should probably thank him for letting me know this. And I will eventually. I just needed to stop shaking and feeling like I was falling.

Hello, Darkness, my old friend...

“You didn’t say it to genuinely hurt me,” I stated. “I needed to know. I had to know, Death.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” He exclaimed, his face flushing. I didn’t know that could happen. “It never should have occurred in the first place! What they did to you - not just the Curse of Eternity but before it-.”

“Don’t.” If he talked about it, if the conversation about what happened kept going, then I was going to start having flashbacks and reliving it all. I’ve already opened plenty of old wounds today.

He sighed and nodded. “You’re right. We have enough to talk about.”

“Just… no one else will suffer like this, right? No one else will… just keep on existing when everything else is gone aside from us?”

“No. The Curse of Eternity will not happen to anyone else. The Almighty himself will step in should it try to be invoked again,” Death confirmed. That made me feel better. Just a little. Everyone should be allowed to rest sometime.

We spent a nice chunk of time sitting and consuming the tea and snacks until the food was gone. The tea pot might have been never ending, as well as the little strainer for the tea blend.

“So,” I sighed, “what are the actual duties of my Proxy-dom and what do they entail?”

Chapter Text

My duties as a Proxy turned out to be, basically, just doing whatever I was going to do anyway. Which I honestly felt like I was getting a really, really sweet deal out of this Proxy business. I had to admit, I got more than a few dark ideas on what I could do when they told me what I was able to do as Magic’s Proxy.

“So, just to make sure I understand completely, I can literally remove someone’s magic from them and leave them a Squib?” I asked. It was shocking information, and even after my conversation with the goblins, it was different to hear it from the source.

“You won’t remove magic from their bloodline, but the individual will be rendered magically barren, so to speak, for the rest of their lives.”

“Inflicting me onto them would likely be kinder depending on who you do it to,” Death added. “But watching how they live after getting what they cherished most taken away would be enjoyable.”

“You’re a rather sadistic man,” I commented. “But god it would be satisfying seeing someone like Dolores Umbridge scream into the wind if I stripped her of her powers. That’s if she’s anything like canon.”

“She is,” both Powers stated in unison.

“Oh fifth year is going to be an absolute joy then,” I said. I nearly clapped at the idea of bringing down one of the most hateful people in existence. The woman was more disliked than Voldemort, for fucks sakes.

“You will also be able to communicate with magical objects and alter their magicks,” Time informed me. “I’m certain you’ll quite enjoy that one.” He was right. I was already imagining at least one in particular item I was going to enjoy messing with thanks to that particular ability.

“You already know about your ability to converse in animal tongue.” Time scratched his chin, “what else?”

“You can pass through wards, walls, and doors of magical persuasion,” Death added. “They won’t register your presence even if you change them. The alterations will be picked up but you won’t show up as the one responsible for it. You have at least two of your own versions of transport besides the sticker method - which you should work on for a more permanent marking method. The method works but it can be easily thwarted should someone pick up on it.”

“Hence why you guys mentioned I should craft my own symbol,” I said. “And you’re right about that. I’ve known for a while that I needed something like that but I just couldn’t figure out what I wanted.”

“Do you have any ideas as to what kind of images you’d like to use?” Time asked, refilling my tea cup. I’m pretty shocked I haven’t gotten full of tea yet given how much I’ve consumed.

“I was wanting to involve the Deathly Hallows symbol within a clock and a spiked burst framing it from behind,” I told him. “I mean, it’s the Harry Potter universe and I’m Death’s Proxy. You can’t really ignore the Deathly Hallows since they're a really big part of the lore.”

“You couldn’t have just gone with something simple, like, I don’t know, a snake slithering out a skull that holds a clock in it’s open jaw?” Death asked.

“Voldemort’s already rocking the snake and skull aesthetic in his Death Eater symbol,” I reminded him as I stirred my drink. “As badass as that imagery is - especially if I had the skull decorated like something from the Mexican Day of the Dead or there were flowers along the base of the skull to give it that extra oomph, I’d like to avoid making a symbol with his similar aesthetic. The Deathly Hallows was all yours, despite the fact Gindlewald took it for his own. Besides, no one around here has used a cosmic burst or a clock in their works. I think.”

“Makes sense,” Death agreed after a moment. “Plus, it’s simple enough and that’s what you want to go for. Too many details and mistakes could happen.”

“Exactly. So what are the other methods of transportation besides what I already know?”

“You can travel through mirrors and shadows, open portals, or you can pretend you’re a white lighter from that television series Charmed you enjoyed and get around that way. The first one, not the remake.”

I glanced at Time. “Sounds like I’ve got a nice amount of options,” I said. Both men agreed with me. “Looks like I’m covered involving anything to do with Magic. Oh! What if I wanted to do foreign magic?”

“Foreign magic?”

“Yeah like I wanted to do spells from Final Fantasy or Dungeons & Dragons or other realms not Harry Potter related? Could I do that?”

“You’d be the only one able to since technically you weren’t born in this world, thus you have a far more expanded arsenal than the regular wixx,” Time said after a few moments thought.

“Well you did give her power over you,” Death reminded him. “It’s not too ridiculous a thought she’s going to cast Stopga or Hasteaga at some point.”

“I’m just hoping Friendly Fire is off so I don’t hurt anyone if I accidentally get so pissed I want to cast Ultima or summon an Aeon. Holy shit,” I blinked, “Could I do that? Summon an Aeon?”

“Unfortunately I do not know since it wasn’t exactly thought of,” Time said. “But I do believe you are running around with ‘friendly fire’ off so if you’re in battle you won’t accidentally harm or kill an ally. Well, unintentionally.”

“That was both terrifying and comforting. Thank you, Time. So what about you, Death? What amazing things are giving me?”

“Nothing so grand as my siblings,” he told me. “You’ve got the standard immunity to the Unspeakables so no one’s going to be firing off a successful AK at you. Which will be hilarious when you see their faces. An immunity to deadly poisons and with your otherworldly magic skills you should be free to cast whatever it is you know from your video games as a cure for the rest.”

“If I can’t get the basilisk somewhere safer and away from the Chamber of Secrets so they aren’t used to harm the students, I have a feeling I’ll be using Esuna a lot,” I commented.

“Maybe you can figure out how to make a panacea that will cure all ills,” Time suggested. “If canon events happen and Snape is bitten by Nagini-.”

My body tensed so much it hurt at the mere mention. “Stop. That’s not something I’d like to think about right now.”

Time gave me an apologetic look before nodding. Death continued with his run down of my abilities. “You won’t be dying for a long time. I can’t give you eternal rest but I can prevent you from entering your next cycle. So I hope you have ideas on what you want to do with your extended lifespan.”

I laughed. “Very funny, but we all know, with the exception of my last life, I die young. Age thirty, maximum, usually. It’s part of the curse, Death.” A nice little part of the curse is the afflicted will never live a full life. You die young - or rather young depending on the average life expectancy of the people around you.

Death smirked. “That only applies when you’re naturally born into the next cycle,” he informed me. “You weren’t born here. That means you’re a special exception due to the circumstances. Oh! And before I forget...” He reached into his coat and pulled out a little black notebook. 

"What's this?" I asked as Death handed it to me.

"It's a Death Note."

My eyes widened and I looked at him, feeling no amusement. Just slight horror. He laughed. "I'm joking," he assured me. "It's an information pad. You'll be able to locate and know the status of anyone you write the name of when you use it. Pretty handy and you won't be whispering to yourself about who is alive or dead while you’re working."

I looked at him, a grin spreading across my face as I thought of one individual in particular. "Like Nicholas Flamel."

"Exactly. And no one will be able to access it except you. Which means no nosy little children or adults can get their hands on this. It'll phase right through the grip of anyone but you, me, and possibly a Dementor. Although, it's unlikely a Dementor will be interested in going through your things."

“Speaking of which,” I glanced up at Death. “What do I do about the dementors? What kind of relationship are we looking at here?”

“They’ll obey you. You’ll be immune to their effects since you’re my Proxy. If you can manage to create a Patronus, then it’ll be strong enough to kill them but-.”

“I haven’t known pure joy in too long, not to mention that my emotional damage on top of that essentially makes that impossible,” I finished for him. He nodded. “You could rip their hearts out and crush them, thus removing them from existence but I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that.”

“Quick question.”

“What is it?”

“Are Dementors the souls of Obscurials that no longer have a body?”

He gave a sharp nod. “It takes them at least a hundred years to gather enough control to take proper form and become a Dementor. During that time they’ll grow by haunting places that have undergone lots of death, horror, torture, and pain to mold them.”

“What happens when the Dementor dies?”

“Nothing,” he said somberly. “They’re gone.”

“You might want to clarify that.” I was terrified to know exactly what he meant by ‘they’re gone,’ but just like earlier, I needed to be sure.

“There isn’t enough to put them back into an afterlife or a new cycle.”

I closed my eyes, exhaling as my heart clenched. “So much for Mathew 19:14,” I mused. With a deep breath to still my heart, I looked at him. “How do we fix them?”

“With the wandering Obscurials, you can easily capture them within a foci like your necklace. However I’d use something else since you’ve already started using that to contain the sliced off parts of Riddle’s soul. Make it easier in terms of organization. It’s up to you to decide what to use.”

“And if I wanted to put them in a thermos?”

“Make sure you use a sharpie or some kind of permanent marker to write the runes on the bottom and inside of the lid,” Death instructed. “‘Trap’ on the bottom and ‘Contain’ on the inside of the lid. Because you’re my Proxy it’ll be that easy. If you were a normal wixx, this would be impossible. Now there’s a high likelihood your followers can use the thermoses after you prep them since you’ll have them marked with your symbol and thus they’ll be your agents. I’d test it out just in case. If it works, congratulations: you’ve got your own version of Ghostbusters. If not? You are going to be very, very busy.”

“And grateful that I can control and manipulate the flow of time,” I added. “So what about Dementors? How do I fix them?”

“That’s going to be the hard part.” Death looked slightly reluctant but continued. “The only way for a Dementor to return to a state where they can cycle is for them to absorb a soul. You’d have to let them kiss a person.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Their essence will latch onto the soul and then they’ll fade off into the afterlife with it. It’s kind of a catch-22. They don’t want to pass on, but the hunger will eventually win and they’ll take someone’s soul. Thus forcing themselves to go into the place they’re terrified to end up.” 

So in other words I had to choose between leaving the Dementors alone or finding people to let them kiss, thus condemning them to being nothing more than husks so that I can eventually rid the world of Dementors. And then there’s the whole ‘crush their hearts and be done with it’ option which I refused to do unless the Dementor in particular goes rogue and won’t listen. Even then, I would still be damning what used to be a child’s soul into nothingness. 

Joy.

“Luckily these decisions don’t have to be made immediately and you’ll have other things to concentrate on for now,” Time said, jarring me from my thoughts. “Right now you only need to become used to your duties and powers and worry about attending Hogwarts. Until your Hadriana persona becomes twenty-five and you’ve successfully gone through the canon events, a majority of your Proxy duties are second place. Cursed Child does not count since in this dimension Harry Potter was born female, so stop worrying. Even when you do hit twenty five and older it won’t be too much to deal with. Every one of us is doing what we can to make sure you have an easy time as you can. Well almost every one of us. Obviously some of the others are being right bastards.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling my heart thump in gratitude for their words.

“We do have hearts,” Time soothed. “They just don’t run on the same wavelength as the mortals.”

“Or it could be because you’re really special,” Death added. “Either way, you’ve got our protections. And you really don’t have it in you to piss us off enough to remove it from you.”

“Neither would I want to.”

“Exactly,” Time said cheerfully. “Now do you have any other questions?”

“What if I wanted to temporarily cut someone off from their magic? Not permanently but just refuse them access for a limited time?”

Time rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s not improbable,” he said after thinking for a few minutes. However we are unsure since no Proxy of Magic’s before has done such a thing.”

I blinked in disbelief. “Are you telling me not a single one of my predecessors in regards to Magic thought about giving a warning before they just suddenly ripped someone’s powers away? What if they’d have had to stop someone from temporarily using their powers because they were having an outburst because of emotional overload and not because the person’s a raving psychopath who abuses their gifts?!” 

What the fuck?

“To be honest, choosing Proxies isn’t a common thing,” Death informed me. “I think it’s been a good couple of millennia since we last chose one. Any of us. We’ve had quote-unquote Masters and Mistresses on and off but Proxies are a much bigger deal.”

“How so?”

“Because a Master or Mistress can give commands and we may or may not comply with them. It’s more a joke for most of us,” Death told me. “The only authority we actually will bend to is the Almighty. Most of the time, we just do the Master-slash-Servant thing to kill boredom. Proxies? They’re an extension of us. They’re like our arms, our voices… they literally represent us and what we can do. We do limit the abilities of our proxy to a minor extent, but you’re pretty much acting as us interacting with the masses. We can’t take physical embodiments ourselves on the mortal realm for an extended period of time without outside effects becoming a problem. We can live as normal beings for a few decades, give or take, but mortal flesh can’t completely contain us forever so we have to be really careful, otherwise, our power slips out.  Slowly, mind you, but once it begins, the leak grows larger the more years that pass. The only ones who aren’t affected would be any children we have, if we have them. But they’d be the only ones who’d get through unscathed.”

“Even the ones who you’d think wouldn’t have negative side effects on the environment still manage to negatively impact their surroundings,” Time explained. “Poor Fantasy tried staying in the mortal realm for 50 years once and the entire city she’d resided on became too obsessed with fantasizing and dreaming that the whole society ended up failing to function. Any ability to function, be productive, manage their lives, even self care was completely gone. The protective wards failed and it sunk into the waters, lost to all. It’s a merpeople metropolis now.”

“It wasn’t Atlantis, was it?” I asked because that’s always the first Lost City I think of. Death shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. You can always ask Fantasy but she might not tell you.”

Great. Another thing to burrow into the back of my brain and bother me.

“So,” Time began, “how do you feel? You think you can do this?”

“Do I have a choice?” My tone was facetious since I honestly felt okay about all this. I had no doubt it was going to be stressful, but it didn’t sound like I’d be so overwhelmed that I’d end up having a breakdown.

“Nope,” Death replied. “You’re our Proxy, willing or not. How you perform as our proxy, however, is entirely up to you.”

“Okay, but don’t blame me if I end up spending hours relaxing at home, playing video games and watching stuff. I’m not exactly an active person.”

“You will be,” I heard Time say as he took a pocket watch out of his suit jacket. It looked like a basic, silver one with a click-open cover. I suddenly missed the one I used to own in my last life. I should look into buying myself a couple, seeing as I had the money and means to do so now. “I think it’s time you returned to the mortal realm, Charlotte. You can call either of us on your phone, just say our names while staring at the screen.”

“One of the others might send you a message, but, primarily, you’ll only have contact with us,” Death said as we all got up from the table, the tea and foods vanishing from the table. “And if Magic is dense enough to contact you, call one of us immediately. I doubt she’ll have permission to do so as part of her punishment, but you can tell she’s not playing with a full deck in this case.”

I looked at the box holding my new smartphone. “So if she calls, don’t answer?”

“It would likely be for the best,” Time agreed. “But it’s up to you.”

“That makes me wish I could record my conversations in case she starts harassing me. Why?”

“Because you’re mildly paranoid and like to make sure you’re protected,” Death retorted as he leaned on his cane with a subdued smile. “Just trust your instincts and things should fall into place.”

“Well,” I sighed. “It’s been…” I tried to find the words. “Something.” I held out my hand and Death took it in one of his, giving it a shake. “Good luck, and call Time if you have questions,” he said.

“And what if I want to talk with you?”

“Collect all the Hallows,” was his response but I felt like, beneath that snark of his, it was rather good-natured.

Time took my hand in both of his, one grasping to shake, and the other coming up to completely cover the top. He was definitely the more cheerful of the two. “Don’t worry so much about everything ahead of you,” he advised. “You’ve got plenty of time to perform your tasks and prepare for what’s ahead. Just keep trying to balance everything. You’ve done well before even finding out about all of this. You’ll be fine. And you are certainly free to call and chat if you need to. Even if you don’t think you should, call me if you need to talk.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be calling you soon so be ready for that.” 

Time nodded. “I’ll help you if I can. But one must indulge in the way of going forward while one has no idea what lies ahead.”

I shook my head. “That’d be great if I wasn’t the kind of person who freaks out when left in the dark and with no direction on where I should go. Or are you unaware at how many times I’ve had a breakdown in my past lives because people kept secrets from me or subjected me to surprises without letting me know before-hand that they were doing something?”

“Good point,” was Time’s reply.

An orb identical to the one that sucked me into the misty place materialized in front of me. The difference was, this one seemed to have rolling purple clouds brewing within it. “I’m guessing that’s my transport back to the real world?” I eyed it suspiciously.

“Just put your hand on it and you’ll go back to Gringotts,” Time confirmed.

I took a steadying breath and held my smartphone box against my chest as I reached out to grab the orb with my right hand. Time and Death disappeared from my sight as, once again, everything went black.

Chapter Text

I found myself back in the throne room, and after getting my equilibrium back, I made sure to ask what year it was. Just in case. Luckily, it was still August 11th, 1991 and it had only been 5 minutes since I disappeared into the orb.

“Did you find the answers you sought?” King Steelrook questioned.

“I have been... adequately informed of things,” I stated. I couldn’t say yes seeing as I still had plenty of questions left unanswered, and they, unfortunately, will remain so moving forward. However, after the info dump session, I really didn’t want to try and think about them.

Grimhatch - yeah, that was his name - closed the lid on the box holding the Orb of Etherium (which may or may not have been something I found out during that ‘ Time I couldn’t tell you about ’). I looked away from the box as the king informed me, “We shall continue to hold this for you as always, My Lady.”

“Let’s hope it’s a while before I need to use it again,” I said. “I’ll need to do prep work if I’m going to close the loop and bring in more gold for Gringotts.”

“Among the other tasks at hand,” Steelrook added. “You will find yourself far more entrenched in the workings of the world than you believe yourself, My Lady. Even with the duties of Proxy on your shoulders.”

I stared at him with suspicion. “You wouldn’t be so kind as to expand on that eerie amount of foreshadowing, would you, King Steelrook?” I questioned. He merely grinned. Of course not. Fair Folk were notorious for keeping secrets. I sighed deeply as King Steelrook looked at me, accessing.

“You are tired.”

I nodded. “The meeting with the Powers took a great bit out of me,” I admitted. “Some old wounds on the soul were reopened through the interaction. Memories of times best left alone were shoved to the present. I’m afraid I must request that we postpone this meeting further, if we have more to discuss, that is.”

“That will be acceptable. Please return to us at your convenience when you are ready to proceed with your vaults and holdings. Grimhatch is the one who handles both the Potter and Radcliffe accounts. Hence why he was here today at my side.”

My eyes widened in surprise and I looked at the goblin in question. “Will that be alright with you, Ser Grimhatch?”

“As my King commands, I will concede and obey.”

“Well, I thank you all the same,” I stated and looked at the king once more. “I thank you for your audience and time today, King Steelrook. I am sorry I wasn’t able to conclude all of our business.”

“You communed with the Powers, Lady Phelps. The primary forces of existence. For a mortal being, let alone a human, to undergo such a meeting and leave without some form of change or exhaustion would be… unthinkable. It is safe to assume that time passes differently between now and where you were. I only hope that when you are feeling better, and we have gained your trust as you have ours, that you will reveal to me what you endured.” 

Which probably won’t be that hard as I tended to trust too easily, I mused to myself. I remembered my clone being banished and I looked at the king. “What am I going to do about the lack of Hadriana Potter? I came here with her and, though I don’t know if anyone really paid attention, I can’t exactly leave alone.”

“If anyone asks, you simply tell them that you sent her home. I am certain you can think of an excuse of how that transpired. You, no doubt, know that we have private floos at the bank that you can easily claim you made use of.” 

Point made. “Then I shall once again thank you, both of you, and take my leave,” I said, giving the goblins before me a bow. They summoned Griphook to escort me back to the main floor and after thanking him for the accompaniment, I headed to Olivander’s to see about the wand I apparently had waiting for me. 

It was hard to know why I felt suddenly apprehensive when I stepped into Olivander’s. I couldn’t recall feeling anxious yesterday. But then again, yesterday, while a prime canon moment, hadn’t gone exactly like the books or films. Olivander himself seemed more there and aware of my true nature as well. Which, after finding out I was, apparently, a time traveller, made me wonder how I’ve interacted with him, if at all, in his past - aka my future.

I looked around to see if I could spy Olivander, but instead, spotting two little legs hanging off the loft edge, idly swinging bare feet back and forth. The feet were connected to a very small child with loosely curled hair that was so blonde it was nearly white.

She looked at me and smiled with a wave. I couldn’t help but return the gesture. 

“Hello,” she greeted.

“Hello,” I responded.

“You’re here for your wand.”

I nodded since it was true. “Is Mr. Olivander in the back?”

“Yes. But he’s coming out now. I’m collecting the spider webs.”

I nodded again, trying not to smile too big because this little girl made me feel a weird sort of joy for some reason. “Do you think you’ll be able to get them all?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very good at it. When I’m done, I’m going to spin it into a thread. They collect magic from the latent energy in the room and become stronger than regular spider webs. It’s not as strong and fine as an Acromantula’s web, but it’s good.”

Okay, that wasn’t something I would have known, but it was cool. And it explained why Olivander hadn’t cleaned them up. I nodded along, glancing at the area behind the counter. “Is that something you like to do: spin spider webs?” I was genuinely curious and hoped I didn’t come off as dismissive.

The little girl nodded happily. “Mummy taught me and when I get older I can spin and weave all sorts of things. I’m just going to stick with spider webs for now. I could go into wand crafting like Grampapa, though. I don’t know yet. Did you meet my mummy before you came here?”

Odd question. But before I could respond, Olivander came out from the back and greeted me, a large wand box made of dark wood in his hands. “Welcome back, Ms. Radcliffe! It’s good to see you again,” he declared. “I trust Miss Potter is enjoying her wand?”

“She’s not had a lot of time to use it yet, unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on what she’ll use it for.”

“I’ve had that wand in my store for quite a time. It’s good to find it has matched itself with a wix at last. I hope it serves her well. Would you like any tea while we do our business?”

I shook my head. “No thank you. Um, Mister Olivander, excuse me for asking but are you sure that’s mine? In all honesty, I’ve never stepped foot in Diagon Alley or a wizarding community before yesterday so I’m a little confused as to how I ordered a wand.”

“Quite sure, quite sure,” he confirmed. “It’s a very unique wand you commissioned… Very special ingredients. I had to craft them during the nights of the darkest and fullest moons so it took quite some time to complete. But I remember you, Miss Radcliffe. Oh, I do indeed.”

Well I guess that answered that . Not perfectly, but at least he was sure it was me and mine. 

He placed the container on the counter top and lifted the hinged lid. Inside, on what looked like white velvet, was a wand that took my breath away. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Olivander asked, happiness and pride oozing from his voice. I nodded mutely as I fought against the urge to reach out and touch it. It was beautiful and the details were breathtaking!

At initial glance, it looked like a dark red or brown wood but, as I looked closer, I noticed there was actually a woven pattern similar to a bungee cord or high density cable of different colours. My hand lightly caressed the handle, enjoying the texture.

“Did you use different woods?” I questioned, not looking away from the piece in front of me. The narrow end had tendrils surrounding a stone shard of some kind which I definitely hadn’t seen before on a Harry Potter-verse wand. At the larger end though, my eyes widened at what appeared to be a miniature Hedwig made of white and black-speckled stone inside a cage from the wand woods. She looked incredibly familiar to a charm I wanted back in my past life.

Oh shit.

Hedwig .

For a moment, I got knocked out of my wonder as I thought about the iconic snowy owl. I wondered if she was there and waiting for someone to take her home. I wondered if I should go over to the shop after this and-.

“It took four woods to bond and secure the three cores you provided me,” Olivander informed me, breaking me out of my thoughts. “But it’s hardly a surprise given how powerful they are. No single wood or even two woods could have withstood them. I was blessed to find the combination to properly use. The stone at the point is Unakite with the owl at the opposite being carved from Dalmation Jasper. I think this might be my finest work.”

“To be honest, Mister Olivander, I may just agree with you. This is,” I paused and exhaled, “far superior to anything I’ve seen before.” Which I truly meant. Because this thing? It was art. And apparently it was mine.

 I was still trying to wrap my head around that.

“Go ahead and pick it up,” he encouraged. “See how it feels.”

I swallowed and did as instructed.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I may have just become one with the universe.

It didn’t just hum with friendly energy. It sang to my soul like a choir of angels. 

It was a perfect moment… one I hadn’t felt since...

I felt something soft on my face and blinked out of my reverie. Olivander’s granddaughter was touching my cheek, looking at me with wide eyes. Almost like she was in awe, yet her eyes seem to say that she, strangely enough, seemed to understand. 

“You’re crying,” she explained softly. I let out a choked laugh, realizing she was right. 

Meanwhile, Olivander took the little girl by the shoulders. “Thank you, Luna,” he said. “Why don’t you go in the back for now, eh? Make you and I some sandwiches while Miss Radcliffe finishes her business.”

Wait. Did he just call her Luna? What the fuck?

Nope. Don’t think about it. You’ve had enough shit to process and you don’t even want to add more. Besides Luna was probably a common name.

Please, for the love of all things holy, let that be true.

“All right, Grampapa,” she replied and skipped off into the shop’s interior behind the desk.

“She’s a unique one,” I said, watching her leave.

I glanced at Olivander who smiled. “She’s a good girl, my great-granddaughter. Unique is certainly a term for it. How does the wand feel? Balanced?”

I cleared my throat and returned my attention to the item I was holding. “Feels perfect,” I agreed. I moved my arm forward as if I was aiming to cast. “I don’t feel like there’s a particular weight that’s over powering from either end. The braided wood gives it a feel like I’m holding something made of dragonskin or scaled, if that makes sense.”

“Not off-putting, I trust?”

I shook my head. “Quite the opposite, actually,” I assured him. “There’s nothing wrong with a smooth finish like the one with Hadriana’s wand but this one feels more secure for me to hold.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I doubt I’ll be making any other wands in this style ever again but knowing I succeeded with this one helps. I know for certain I’ll never handle cores of their magnitude.”

“The cores I provided for you?”

“Yes. Fascinating items, Miss Radcliffe. Whether or not you were serious about their identities, they were powerful and provided me quite the challenge. I dare say I was almost not up to the challenge. Nor do I know if any other wandmaker could have handled them. I’m almost pleased you assured me that they were the only ones.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Olivander, but I’m slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of my wand. What cores did I give you? Could you remind me?”

“I would love to, My Dear, however the vow we made prevents my repeating them,” he said. “I’d like to keep being able to speak proper words for the rest of the day, if you don’t mind.”

God dammit.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, right. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“I understand. Now how about you give it a wave and see how it responds.”

Holding my breath, I gave just the gentlest of flicks. The end lit up like a sparkler with a multitude of different coloured coming forth.

Another flick canceled the display and Olivander smiled. “Outstanding.”

I spent a moment or two staring at my wand, revelling in the fact I actually had a legitimately real magic wand.

“So,” I sighed, placing it back in the hinged box. “How much do I owe you?” 

He chuckled. “Nothing,” he informed me. “In fact, I feel as if I should pay you for the experience. This has been a once in a lifetime opportunity. I truly feel as if this is a wand that will have no equal.”

I felt bad for not paying him for the wand. This thing was… was unbelievable work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything over all my lifetimes that was more beautiful to me.

“Tell you what,” the older man said, “I’ll sell you my finest wand holster at a seventy five percent reduced cost.”

“Twenty five.”

“Eighty.”

“You just went lower. No, forty percent. If you’re going to offer me a discount I won’t accept one that steep.”

“Sixty five. You gave me an opportunity to create my magnum opus, Miss Radcliff. I will allow you to settle for such a meager exchange.”

“Fifty percent. And I won’t go lower or higher.”

He chuckled again. “And you said you couldn’t haggle,” he said mostly to himself. “Fine. I will give you a fifty percent discount on my best wand holster. But I won’t be so lenient next time I see you.”

I smiled at him. “Well then, I hope I don’t have to come in here and get another wand for a very long time,” I said. “Or, I manage to come in when you’ve got someone at the register who doesn’t know better.”

“I’ll put your picture up so there’s a reminder.” I didn’t think he was joking despite the jovial tone, either.

“Then I better pray you don’t find one,” I countered as I watched him walk to the glass display case he had attached to the shop wall. He opened it and removed one of the wand holsters on the top shelf. It had a white, scaled-leather number that faintly shimmered. The buckles used to strap it on shined in the dim lighting.

“Like I explained yesterday with young Miss Potter, no one can summon your wand while it rests in this sheath,” he said. “Although, unlike the leather one you two purchased yesterday, this is far more superior material. Cloud Dragon skin.”

“Cloud Dragon skin?” I repeated. Cloud Dragons actually existed? I mean, I knew we had dragons, but I didn’t think Cloud Dragons were around.

“Very rare but very valuable. Almost completely impervious to damage, it will not stain or tear. Until the dragons were almost made extinct, I believe they used to use this for armor in the Auror corps. But don’t you even start going on about not taking this. It’s been in the shop for too long and I would be honored if you bought it.”

“I’m not going to get arrested for wearing or owning this am I?”

“Doubtful. This was made before they put up the ban on making artifacts involving the creatures’ parts but it’s not illegal to wear it. Several old families would have a fit since I know it was popular about a century ago to own anything made with Cloud Dragon skin. Thus, the items would be heirlooms now.”

“So bottom line is you’re selling me an heirloom wand holster at a fifty percent discount.” I give him a look to which he responded with twinkling eyes.

God save me.

The rest of my business was concluded quickly and after shamefully underpaying for my wand holster, Olivander allowed me to strap it on so that where it rested, it was hidden underneath my vest like a gun holster. Apparently, this one came with the ability to strap it on in several different ways so I could walk out the shop with it on my person instead of in the box.

Using a wand was going to take some hella getting used to since up until now I’ve cast without one; I better get used to having one on me. Also, Hadriana’s wand was also mine so I had to get accustomed to using each wand in both forms.

Things just got even more maddeningly complicated.

Could I just hide myself away and stay home instead of continuing on this path?

Just not go to Hogwarts or go anywhere, for that matter?

No?

Fuck. 

I left the shop, standing outside for a moment. I didn’t know how long I was in the shop but I was really tired. Not dead on my feet yet, but I could foresee a nap in my future. I thought yesterday had been a rollercoaster, but it had nothing on today. The events at Gringotts. Meeting several of The Powers after being transported into a magical orb. Dealing with the knowledge I was going to have to time travel and set up events for myself while I was still not one hundred percent sure what I’ve done. I had to get used to using two different wands on top of training myself to use a wand in the first place.

Right now I was torn on either: 

1. Going to Eyelops or the Magical Menagerie to see if Hedwig is at either shop 
2. Heading to find the trunk shop in Carkitt and get a school trunk
3. Returning to the Leaky Cauldron and getting a drink
4. Or just taking my ass home so I can decompress and try to wrap my head around everything.

Actually, I didn’t know if I should investigate Hedwig’s situation yet since I honestly didn’t know how to take care of an owl and Hedwig deserved better than that. It would be better if I went to Flourish and Blotts and picked up an instruction book on owl care before I even attempted to subject any owl to my caretaking. Even though I could have a legitimate conversation with them and therefore know when and if they needed anything.

I was probably going to have to add a special room based on a solarium somewhere for an owl or any bird I might get.

I had to make sure I didn’t convince myself I was actually going to find or get Hedwig at all. Hagrid was supposed to give her to Harry as a birthday present and after yesterday’s events, It’s doubtful that I’ll accept anything he gives me. I threw away the cake he baked when I got home last night, even though a part of me really wanted to try it. Call it wishful nostalgia.

“Pardon me,” a smooth voice spoke and I looked to see the one and only Lucius Malfoy coming towards me. “Miss Radcliffe?”

Oh, for fucking out loud! Why?!

Chapter Text

Over my many lifetimes, I’ve asked myself: “How did I get here?” or “How did this happen?”

Not once did I ever think I’d ask because I was being dragged - not literally, thank goodness - to lunch by Lucius Malfoy to a very upscale eatery in an Alley called Fyne Alley - pronounced ‘fine’ despite it’s unique spelling.

It was similar to how you could call a shawl a ‘pashmina’ but at the end of the day, it was still a shawl.

But I digress.

He apparated us to the entryway of a restaurant called Dionysus , where I managed by the skin of my teeth to avoid vomiting due to the discombobulation that particular form of travel left me with. Fuck you, JKR, for this horror.

“Are you alright?” Malfoy questioned politely.

“Haven’t apparated in quite some time,” I lied. I hadn’t done it at all until now.

“Ah yes,” he said with a nod. “Without prolonged exposure, one can easily fall back into the grips of its more unfavorable effects. I’ll return in a moment.”

He stepped away to talk to the Maître d’ and I let out a very long sigh. My stomach and nerves were quickly recovering and I felt normalish when Malfoy walked back to me, offering his arm to me. “Shall we?”

I nodded and though I felt highly awkward touching him - five guesses as to why - my manners had me taking his arm as we strolled through the well-lit dining area. Narcissa Malfoy - who is not sporting hair coloured in a bad rendition of Cruella de Vil, but a golden blonde to contrast with her husband’s silver - is sitting with a man who looked vaguely familiar but I don’t know him. She looks up with well concealed delight at her husband. Her eyes widened just a fraction when she saw me. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Darling,” Malfoy informed his wife, his tone pleasant, “but I found the most delightful surprise in Diagon Alley outside Olivander’s and thought she might join us for lunch. Ah, Lord Nox! Pleasure to see you again. Miss Radcliffe, you may remember my wife, Narcissa, and this is Lord Nox. Lord Nox, Miss Daniella Radcliffe.”

“How do you do?” I asked, holding out my hand to shake his. His grip was firm but not too firm as he looked at me up and down.

“Surely not The Daniella Radcliffe?” He questioned with surprise.

“The one and only,” Malfoy replied, pulling a chair out for me to take. I nodded my thanks, my nerves starting to get the best of me again. “I’ve ordered you a fizzing peach-water to help settle your stomach,” he said to me quietly and I gave another nod. He moved around me, kissed Narcissa on the cheek and took his own chair.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Ms. Radcliffe,” Narcissa stated. “People were beginning to wonder if you’d disappeared completely. But, if I might, you’re looking quite well. Your suit is lovely, too.”

“Thank you, Lady Malfoy.”

“No, no… You don’t get to backtrack on formality even if it has been almost 7 years. It’s still  Narcissa.”

I tried to fight off the urge to giggle nervously. What the hell did that mean?

A waiter brought out the glass of sparkling water Lord Malfoy had ordered for me, and some plain water for himself, as well as a menu for each of us before leaving once more.

“I must say, Miss Radcliffe, I’m honored to meet you,” Nox said. “Your educational books are both highly regarded and somewhat vilified in several circles.”

That was interesting to know. “Yes, well, you can’t please everyone, I suppose. There’ll always be someone unhappy with what you do.”

“Sad but true,” Mrs. Malfoy - or, as she’s insisted I call her, Narcissa - agreed. “Although, given how easy they allow their target audience to integrate with our society while still leaving room for the muggleborns to retain their origins, one would think the circles that vilified it would see better sense. None of the criticism is deserved, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Have you kept up with your writing while you’ve been gone?” Nox questioned. “Your other works, of course. I do believe the guide books are self updating. Which is another thing I found delightful when I learned of them. Most book printers wouldn’t be caught dead allowing self-updating tomes for their normal distribution. But yours did.”

“I think the very lucrative romances might have had something to do with the convincing,” Narcissa said with a slight smirk towards me. Oh god, I was writing romances? I didn’t know jack about romance aside from what I’ve read in a bunch of Silhouette and Harlequin Desire series.

Oh god… Was I committing a form of plagiarism? I would see the opportunity of rewriting muggle romance/softcore porn novels and selling them to the wizarding public. I mean, Tom Riddle did it with recipes in that fanfiction I read once to make himself some pocket money. Why wouldn’t I try to do the same, especially when I’ve spotted more than a few Muggle comics retold for the wizard masses.

I flashed them all a grin before I concentrated hard on the menu in front of me. There were a lot of different dishes available and given how I was pretty sure I’d never be coming back here, I had trouble deciding what to have.

Two dishes really stood out to me and my mind kept coming back to them: Gazpacho con Bogavante which translated to Gazpacho with Maine Lobster , and Albóndigas en Salsa con Picada de Almendras or, Meatballs in Almond Sauce . Both were Spanish dishes and, as I’ve not had Gazpacho in a long, long time, I was hoping to try it again.

After our orders were placed, Narcissa and Mr. Malfoy shared what had been listed on the menu as the ‘ Dionysus High Tea, ’ which I found to be an array of internationally-inspired savories and sweets made up in the design of traditional British High Tea.

The first course was two, single-serve, American pulled-pork sliders, a couple bacon falafel bites with hummus, and a few assorted mini-quiches. The second course had flavoured dipping oil for the various types of bread and rolls, some soft cheese and a small platter of butter. The third, and final, course for the High Tea spread, consisted of baklava the size of macaroons and four small bowls - two with pudding, and two with mixed fruit and a crumble of some kind.Lord Nox joined me in ordering the gazpacho but said he was also having a taste for something Cuban. He ordered the Picadillo-filled Empanadas along with some Cuban-style short-ribs that I found looked like a rather nice beef stew. 

“Would you do me the honor of sharing an order of the Tostones with Shrimp and Sofrito with me, Miss Radcliffe?” He asked. I agreed but failed to understand why he felt that it was an honor. Still, he seemed rather pleasant and I was not going to turn down the opportunity to try something I’ve never had before.

The waiter took our orders and the small talk started back up. “It’s so nice to see you again, Ms. Radcliffe,” Narcissa insisted. “How have you been doing? What have you been doing? You don’t look like you’ve changed a bit.”

“Well, it’s complicated,” I took a sip from my drink. “Mostly I’ve just kept to myself.”

“A little birdie told me you were in Diagon Alley yesterday in the company of a certain Child Saviour,” Mister Malfoy commented wryly. I felt myself stiffening under the sudden, intense attention I got from everyone at the table. Oh this should be fun.

“Given the fact you actually saw me and my ward at Madame Malkins, and you held the door open for us, I can confirm that we were in the area. However, I can neither confirm nor deny the identity of this ‘Child Saviour’, as you’ve deemed them. Your son looked quite well, though. Is he excited for Hogwarts?”

“Draco is eager to start the next phase of his schooling, but his disappointment at learning that he is not allowed to play quidditch, or bring his broom for that matter, has been palpable.” Narcissa confirmed. “I must say, I’m rather relieved that first years are prohibited from playing. I enjoy a good match now and again, however, the mere idea that my son, at such a young age, would be facing down a bludger in such a competitive setting simply makes my heart tense unpleasantly.”

“He’s got the great potential for both Chaser and Seeker,” Malfoy confided, pride in his voice. “He’s definitely inherited some skill from both sides of the family. What of your ward? Does she enjoy flying?”

“She’s not been on a broom and would prefer to keep both feet on the ground. I doubt she’ll be trying out at any point for a school team, but we’ll see.” Damn right I was not going flying on a broom.

“As I understand it, James Potter was an exceptional Chaser back in his Hogwarts days,” Lord Nox added. “Won an award, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but he was also an insufferable braggart as well as hooligan,” Malfoy said. “I only attended three years with him and it was quite enough, thank you. No offense meant towards your ward, Miss Radcliffe, but James Potter quite often failed to act in a manner befitting a Lord of his standing. I hope, should Hadriana take up the mantle of Lady Potter, she does far better than her father.”

I gave a stiff smile and nodded. This conversation was making me slightly uncomfortable, but it was not enough to leave. Yet.

“Do you think you’ll be open to attending social events again now that your ward will be at Hogwarts?” Narcissa asked. “I’m certain everyone will be quite excited for your return.”

Oh hell no. I honestly couldn’t see myself doing any of that. “Maybe a few here and there depending on what happens. Hadriana is my priority.”

“Better in your care than Dumbledore,” Malfoy muttered over his glass. “I’ve been told he assigned the groundskeeper as your guide yesterday.”

“Yes, although I’d like to forget about it if it’s all the same,” I said sternly, taking a drink.

“Was it really that bad?” Nox asked me. The conversation paused as the food was delivered to our table. “I’m afraid I’ve never met the man.”

“Let’s just say that if I’d known what was going to happen, I would have declined the escort. He was jovial… at the beginning. However, the more time we spent together, the more he showed himself to worship the Headmaster. He abandoned us after we went to Gringotts and I didn’t see him again until we’d finished our shopping. I wish it had stayed that way.” I went to focus on my meal, trying to control the irritation and anger that had yet to fade from yesterday.

“Well as long as she’s gotten everything, I’m sure it wasn’t a wasted day,” Narcissa mused.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could answer a question I had,” I began. I really hoped this didn’t blow up in my face. “We weren’t exactly told where to go on the first, so I’m a little turned around. Can we floo to the school or purchase a ticket to take a train?”

All three of them stopped and looked at me, poker faces hiding whatever shock or dismay they felt.

“Miss Potter doesn’t have her ticket?” Malfoy asked in a very even voice.

“No. And I was certain she was meant to receive one.”

“It’s the only direct access to reach the platform,” Narcissa explained. “Well, you can floo into the waiting area but it tends to be incredibly crowded, being the most popular entryway among the families. The tickets are designed to help register you as an approved visitor and user of the nine and three quarters doorway. Otherwise, you can’t get through unless accompanied by someone who also has clearance.”

“So it’s essentially a muggle security card,” I observed.

“That’s certainly what you said when making the comparison in Understanding and Getting to Hogwarts ,” Lord Nox added. I really gotta read all of those books.

“Yes, well I’ve had more than a few books between writing that one and this one and not everyone sports an eidetic memory,” I bluffed in what I hoped he took as a warm tone. I didn’t want to insult the man. 

“Indeed,” Malfoy agreed. Narcissa then tried to get me to talk about any new projects I was working on. I hoped I was vague enough but remained convincing. No big painful moments and other than the stuff we spoke of before, it was all in all a lovely luncheon. I really didn’t learn anything about Lord Nox aside from the fact he really enjoyed my books. Both men kissed my knuckles and Narcissa air kissed my cheeks before we parted.

“Come have tea at the manor sometime after school starts,” she insisted. “Or maybe before, if you find the time.”

“I’ll see about it,” I promised. Not that I wanted to. Narcissa Malfoy’s got this intense look in her eyes whenever she looked at me and it was kind of intimidating. I didn’t know if I could handle a one-on-one session with the Malfoy matriarch. Plus, meeting Draco in his house before school? I didn’t even wanna think about how that might go down.

“I’ll make enquiries on getting you a ticket to replace the one you failed to receive,” Lucius assured me. “If nothing else, we can meet up and all go onto the platform together.” And Draco can meet Hadriana, my mind added. I smiled tensely.

When I was finally on my own again, I breathed a touch easier. 

I wanted to go home and stay there for the rest of my life. School and the outside world, be damned.

Rather amazing how that feeling often came over me no matter what life I lived. Today I had too much going on, and I didn’t feel safe enough to try warping or teleporting back home.

But I wasn’t exactly too tired to just open a portal and go through it in public.

So what did I do?

With that in mind, I pulled my wand out and summoned the Knight Bus. 

And it worked. I almost thought it wouldn’t for a split second because I was in an affluent area within Wizarding Britain. I mean, they didn’t exactly mention any other places they couldn’t go, besides underwater. Glad to know I could summon it here.

A man who was definitely not Stan Shunpike, came out of the bus. Smiling genially as he stood on the step, he greeted me. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded wixx. I’m Mitchelson Madds, your conductor for today. Where might we be taking you?”

Okay, the universe was just fucking with me today. That sounds like a parody of Mads Mikkelson’s name.

“Cokeworth, please.”

“That will be 11 sickles. We have some tea and sandwiches available at 13 or 14 for the pair, and we’ve got the standard 15 sickle package which includes the tea and sandwich plus your choice of the Quibbler or Prophet. Oh!” He looked around the area, surprised. “You must be exhausted if you’re calling us from here!” He stepped onto the pavement and gently took me by the elbow, leading me up the steps. “It’s a rare treat to show up in Fyne Alley, I must say.”

“How safe is drinking tea on this thing?” I asked with a small smile as I got inside. It looked the same as from the films except there were obviously some plush covered benches instead of beds because it was the day crowd. I blinked in surprise as I noticed a young man sitting off to the side, dressed rather sloppily in a similar uniform to Mitchelson and a badge that said trainee on it.

“I charm the cups personally to prevent spillage,” Mitchelson explained, returning my attention to him. “Also the sandwiches of the day are tomato and cheese or roast beef and cheese. Mind you the meat’s good but a little dry.”

“I’ll take the standard with roast beef and cheese, two sugars and milk with the tea, and a copy of the Quibbler.” I handed off 15 sickles and he took them with a smile.

“Coming right up!” I took a seat on one of the plush benches as he turned towards the driver seat. “Ernie, Phil! New passenger, headed for Cokeworth!”

Phil?

“Alright, alright,” came a very familiar sounding voice with a Carribean accent. “Strap yourselves in and let’s take it away!”

Oh my god. The shrunken head was here and it has a name!

My thoughts were quickly taken up by other things as the doors closed and we zoomed off. Mitchelson handed me a sandwich wrapped in brown paper and a cup of tea after a few moments. True to his word, it was not spilling a drop. I had to wonder how the heck one went from this to what I remembered from the films and books. He even pulled down a small shelf-table from the wall beside me. “You can sit your cup and saucer on there and they won’t move until you tap on it twice,” he explained, handing me my paper after I followed his instructions. “And just leave it on there once you’re done.”

I thanked him.

It was weird. We were supposed to be moving about as if we weren’t bolted down, but despite the momentum I could feel, this ride was down right calm compared to whatever the movies were doing. 

I decided to save my sandwich for later and drink my tea, untying the string that kept the Quibbler rolled up.

“‘Ow come on you had to be picked up at Fyne Alley of all places?” Asked the young man suddenly. “I thought all ‘em fancy places had Floo attachments?”

“Stan, don’t be so rude,” Mitchelson chastised. “You can’t open a conversation like that. My apologies, Miss..?”

“Radcliffe.”

“Miss Radcliffe, this is Stan Shunpike, our conductor trainee.”

Oh my god.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Stan stated with a smile, tipping his cap up. “I’m taking over the night shift.”

“Only if you can pass training,” Mitchelson corrected, his jovial smile kind of fell as he spoke to Stan in a slightly hard voice. Something told me that my instinct might have been spot on about the changes involving different conductors.

“You just watch, Madds!” Stan declared with confidence. “I’ll have the Knight Bus night shift job in record time, I will! Ernie agrees, don’t cha, Ern?”

Ernie was too busy trying to drive to respond. And doing a pretty damn good job at it despite the speed and traffic, I thought. I could only wonder if it was because he had a better time in the daylight than he did at night.

“See? Ern agrees!”

Mitchelson’s brown mustache bristled a bit as he gave Stan a disapproving look, then a more kind look at me. “Let me know if you need anything, Miss,” he said and sat back in his own seat. 

Well that was interesting, I mused as I took a sip from my tea cup. I turned my attention to the Quibbler, curious to finally see a real copy in person.

Chapter Text

Knight Bus is faster than the tube confirmed, I thought to myself as we stop in front of the welcome marker. I should have had them stop directly in front of Dunwich Circle but I’m a little less exhausted and I can easily teleport to my gate from here.

“You sure you don’t want us to take you further into town, Miss?”

I flashed a smile to Mitchelson. “No, thank you. Not this time.”

He tipped his conductor’s cap as I got to the street. “All right then,” he conceded. “Thank you for riding with us on the Knight Bus. Good luck and we hope to have you use our services again!”

The doors closed and they were gone, speeding off to wherever they were needed next.

I sighed, looking up at the sky. It’d been quite the day and I was just glad to be getting back home. Muttering the words “no eye can see me” I used my powers to perform what could only be described as sliding from where I was standing to the walkway in front of my entrance gate.

In case you need more detail think of it as you stepping onto an escalator or moving sidewalk and instantly ending up where you wanted to go. Though Dunwich Circle is rather empty, I still didn’t want to take the chance of being spotted. It’s been a long freaking day and I’m tired ! With my luck someone else will pop up and want to talk to me and I’m just - no! No more.

Go home. Go to bed. I’ve had enough stuff happening today. I need to decompress. Ain’t dealing with this shit no more! I got books to read that I apparently wrote. I gotta make a note to go find romances that I apparently also penned. I gotta read those plagiarized adventures by Lockhart. There’s school subjects I have to get acquainted with.

Just no. No more stuff.

I’m not even going to humor the nagging thought at how Hedwig is probably sitting somewhere at one of the pet shops in Diagon, waiting for someone to come get her.

No. You go away.

I walked through my gate and up my sidewalk, letting the feel of the space soothe me. My anxieties lessened the farther I went, the magicks of the space a balm to my frayed nerves. I was home after what had to have been the longest and most stressful day I’ve ever had. In this lifetime, at least.

I was almost to my front door when I spotted pretty much the one thing I didn’t want to see.

An owl bearing a letter, perched on my gazebo swing. 

I’m going to murder someone, I vowed silently as it settled its large eyes on my personage.

The owl innocently hooted it’s greetings and I called, “Let me open the door and you can come in.”

“Oh thank you so much! Could do with a spot of water, if you don’t mind? Feeling a bit parched after waiting out here. Your wards are quite good. I got turned around a few times trying to find my way in.”

I nodded and opened the door. After getting inside, I got the owl rehydrated before hesitantly removing the letter off of them. I know what Time and Death told me but still, I just got into the mindset of being careful with letters for my own safety. I wish I could use the camera on my phone to snap a picture and see if there were charms of compulsions on it, snap a picture and then disable them that way. Oh that would have been so cool! Like a Camera Obscura cell phone edition. But I’m focusing on items rather than ghosts.

Making a note to contact Time to see if it can do that, I return my focus on the item at hand.

The writing was beautiful and as I read the words, I realized even before I saw the signature that I knew who it had come from.

Dear Ms Radcliffe,

I apologize for contacting you out of the blue without obtaining your permission to do so. However last night’s incident between you and Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, has been brought to the notice of the Headmaster. I had the misfortune to be the one to give a witness account to the argument and to say the Headmaster was not pleased was an understatement. He may have also found out that certain items of great import were not gifted to Hadriana due to the events of yesterday during our meeting. 

I suspect he may attempt to contact you again and I felt compelled to warn you so you might be prepared.

I am not normally so bold as to do such things as to make suggestions to virtual strangers, so please do not expect this to happen often. I am inclined to believe it was the rather pleasurable meal we shared that has caused me to forgo my usual indifference.

Should you require any information or have questions, I believe my current lapse of judgement might be prolonged until September 1st.

With regards,

Severus Snape

Holy shit, he wrote me!

I’m holding a letter written to me specifically from Severus Snape!

“Sender didn’t specify if I should wait for a reply so I’ll be off!” chirped the owl and I looked up. “Oh sure,” I said, completely forgotten that they were there. I opened the window and let them soar out before going back rereading the letter. 

I can’t believe he wrote to me. And it was warning me about Dumbledore and letting me know the aftermath of Hagrid’s disastrous escort mission! That had to be a milestone or something! I’m a little concerned about him feeling compelled to do so but the awe at receiving a letter from him overrode it.

I felt like a silly lovestruck teenager with a note from her crush. Something that was very alien to my normal reactions, I can assure you. Apparently my attraction wasn’t limited to physical proximity.

“Good God, woman, get a grip on yourself,” I command aloud as I go into the foyer to hang my bag up and put away my shoes. “The man’s just being polite.”

But it’s SNAPE! , that little voice in the back of my mind squealed. Not canon but looking more like the films Severus Snape! Writing to us of all people! And LOOK! In my mental landscape the mini me is waving the letter frantically and pointing. He’s basically said we can write to him if we want to.

“He was being polite,” I repeat. “The man doesn’t want us sending him letters and asking how he’s doing. Dear god, he’s probably afraid we’ll take him up on the offer! You cannot look into this as being more than it was!”

He said he felt compelled to write to us and that the dinner was pleasurable! That has to mean something. He keeps his cards to his chest and wouldn’t just admit something like that!

I grit my teeth. Obviously today had been too much and old habits were bleeding through far too easily.

I turn to look at my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall “Would you please stop acting like a smitten fangirl?” I snarl angrily. “It means nothing! It would never mean anything! We are cursed! Did you forget that little bit of reality?! We are alone! We will always end up alone! We will never not be alone! Stop fantasizing and fawning over Severus Snape and the rest of them!”

Fuming at myself, I storm into my bedroom and practically rip the clothes off me as I change out of the day’s ensemble. 

I can’t afford to be some stupid, love struck woman. I’m apparently a Proxy of the Primordial Powers of Time, Death, and Magic. I have written a huge assortment of books. I’m going to time travel to do some favor for the Goblin Nation and publish said books. I’ve still got business to tackle involving Gringotts as well as have to attempt to read my school books, Lockhart’s books, and the series for acclimating the Muggle born and raised to Wixxen society. 

On top of all that I have to train myself to use a wand when all my life I’ve been wandless and wordless. I placed my new wand next to the Holly wand on the stand I’d attached to my night table. Oddly enough I felt a warm tingle in the air that almost felt pleased at the two wands being in proximity to one another but I brushed it off as I was still vibrantly angry. Completely changed, I launched myself into my bed. I found myself asleep not too long, the anger dissolving into sadness and depression.

~OoOoOoOoOoO~

I used to love to sleep. I would dream of amazing things, like giant pandas playing in a rock band while thousands of fruit and vegetables watched.

Now my dreams are animated pastel watercolor paintings via a video game loading screen.

I will wake up feeling groggy and lethargic after I slumber; never properly feeling rested until I get food in my belly. 

I take minute comfort that at least the nightmares brought by memories have stopped. I would never indulge in sleep again should they return.

I trudged to the kitchen to pour me some juice and select my breakfast.

However plans change.

This time they changed at the sight of an owl standing at one side of my island counter with a letter at its feet and… is that me? What the hell?!

“Good, you’re awake,” my doppelganger greeted, taking a sip of something from one of my mugs. In her other hand she brandished a copy of Voyages with Vampires . Motioning towards the owl, she told me, “Headmaster dickface sent us a letter. There’s definitely some spells on it. I had to move a few feet away to get the feeling I had to open it turned off. I’m not touching in case clones don’t have the same kind of immunity the prime one has.”

My eyes darted between the owl and other me. “Okay. How did I summon you? When did I summon you?!”

The clone looked at me almost disappointed. “Apparently the events from the previous two days were so stressful, you subconsciously activated the jutsu so you wouldn’t be alone in the house.” 

I stayed standing in the doorway, mind trying to process this while me #2 went and got me a glass of juice. They walked over and handed it to me. “Luckily it’s just one of us but this might be a problem if it doesn’t turn out to be a fluke. I figured I’d start on the Lockhart books while you were asleep although I regret it already. You’ll find out why once I poof out.”

“Too much to hope that they’re so bad, they’re good?”

She grimaces and it’s not from whatever she’s drinking. “Let’s get Dumbledore’s letter taken care of first,” she advised. I nodded, the induction of juice into my system helping clear out the mental cobwebs.

I conjured the bubble diagnostic shield and levitated the letter inside it. “Warning,” the automated voice announced, “Level 2 compulsion charm detected on envelope.”

“Well that confirms your urges,” I state. “But this also means my clones carry a decent amount of resistance to compulsions.”

For the people at home, I’ve got a rating system I made up a couple lifetimes ago for certain spells. Level 1 is direct casting on a person. Level 2 is the spells are activated through skin contact, like say someone grabbing a letter and they think, “I got to read this now !” Level 3 is environmental or area of attack spells. I’d use the Mirror of Erised as an example. You know how someone looks into the mirror and sees what they desire and they become enthralled? There you go.

Make sense?

I hope so.

“Compulsion charm, spectrum level yellow-orange,” GLaDoS announced.

“So not just a compulsion charm but one that would have then lingered into minor suggestibility territory,” I muse. It was addressed to Daniella so the cock old fart was obviously targeting my guardian mainly. “He doesn’t even know me but he’s sending me compulsion riddled mail? Is he that conceited he’ll send strangers this and think it won’t bite him in the arse?!”

I get a knife and slip it into the bubble to open and scan the contents within. When the letter written by Dumbledore unfolded, that’s when my detection spell went into lockdown.

“Warning: Level 2 Red Spectrum compulsion and suggestibility detected! Hazardous item found! Suggest immediate destruction!” GLaDoS announced. “Warning: Level 2 Red Spectrum compulsion and suggestibility-”

“Thank you,” I call out and the voice quiets. Damn that was loud! Not a good start to the morning and definitely not a good point for Dumbledore. Red spectrum? He’s not playing around, is he? 

That’s not simply the man trying to suggest I do something he wanted - that’s mind control!

Albus Dumbledore is trying to force Daniella to do what he wants through that letter.

I’m feeling a declaration of war coming on.

“You’d think he’d be playing the long game and wait before doing something that criminal,” I muse. “At least this shows me where I can place him on the list.”

“There’s no Hogwarts Express ticket either,” Me #2 noticed. “Snape said Dumbledore knows we didn’t get it handed off to us.”

“I’m going to have to make a copy of the letter so I can know what he had to say, but I’m not touching that thing.”

“Contain it and keep it on hand in case you need evidence for the future?” Me #2 asks.

“It’d be foolish not to,” I agree. “I’m starting to think an inheritance test and vault audit might be in order. Steelrook’s already expecting me to come back.”

“But you’ve already got like a fuck ton of stuff to do already and school is going to start in less than a month,” countered doppelganger.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I can control time then,” I state. “I’ll use the cell phone and contact Time, see if he can tell me how to do it.”

“Great, you can see if he knows if we can Camera Obscura charms, spells, and wards with the phone’s camera as well while you’re at it.”

I summon my phone. It activates at my touch and I look for the contacts. “I need to spend time trying to figure out how this thing works,” I mumble. The names “Death” and “Time” are the only two on the list so I click Time and put it to my ear. 

“Ah! You’ve finally decided to use it,” came the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry.

“Well kind of. I have some questions. You free?”

“I can spare myself if you need me. How can I help?”

My lips quirk up involuntarily. “Okay so high possibility I’m going to have to time travel to get the stuff I need done before September 1st,” I state. “Dumbledore’s just sent me a letter that was covered in Level 2 Red Spectrum Spells.”

“Level what?”

I explain my level and spectrum ratings and I can hear him nod. “Interesting. And you called me to help you figure out what to do?”

“Well I don’t exactly know how to time travel. I apparently do it at some point to help the Goblins but I don’t think it’s the same as what I want to do right now.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Time agreed. “That event happens using the Orb and this would be a separate intentional jump. What you’ll need to do is hit the clock on the main screen. You’ll see a little icon that looks like a gear. Click that and input the date you want to head to. Make sure you’re somewhere safe and comfortable before you travel that you won’t accidentally scare yourself or anyone who might be in the room as well when you get to your destination. Then click activate and you’ll be sent back to the time and date you put in.”

“So the phone can act like a time turner?” I question.

“Better than one of those,” he declared and I sense he was slightly offended. “This one is far more accurate and actually came from and was approved by me, thank you very much! Time turners are lovely to look at but they’re abuses of me and I don’t like them!”

“Sorry.”

“No,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t be going on a tangent right now. You think you’ve got how it works?”

“Yeah it seems easy enough.” And it does. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“How familiar are you with video games?”

“My knowledge of them is fairly proficient but I don’t really play them. Why? What are you up to?”

“There’s a Japanese horror series called Fatal Frame and in it there’s an item called the Camera Obscura,” I explain. Time tells me to hold on and I hear him move around and then keys typing. “Well that’s clever,” I hear from his end, the volume slightly muffled. His voice returns to its normal state as he said, “So what do you want to do with your phone in regards to this? If you want it to have that kind of function, you’ll have to contact Death.”

“Well actually I was hoping to use it for more magical diagnostics and fighting things,” I sigh. “I was thinking I could take a picture of an item that’s got spells on it. I could identify the spells through the phone and then dismantle them.”

“What’s wrong with your regular technique?” he questioned.

I sigh again before explaining everything that happened after our meeting and how I was so tired after all was said and done. “And to make matters worse, I ended up summoning a clone while asleep and didn’t know about it until this morning. And I know what you guys told me but what if I’m so tired that my immunities falter?”

“That won’t happen, Charlotte,” he insisted in a firm tone. “You are completely protected and no harm can come to you.” He paused. “But... I concede your point on having a feature like you’ve described in case you need to quickly get the task done. There are going to be some instances where I’m not on your side, figuratively speaking, and speed will be the essence. Let me consult with some of the others. Knowledge may have an idea how to do it. I’ll message you once I get more information.”

“Thank you, Time.”

“No trouble at all! It’s nice to know you’re using my gift. Have you used Death’s notebook yet?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “But I will soon. I’ve got some people I want to look up - starting with a famed alchemist and his wife.”

Time wished me luck and we ended the call.

I let Me #2 know what I found out. She settled the mug she’d drunk out of on the top rack of the dishwasher with a nod. “Well that’s that then. How about we get this letter taken care of?”

I looked at the owl who had been strangely silent during all this. “Did Dumbledore tell you to wait for a response?” I asked it.

The owl said nothing, just merely moved it’s head around and readjusted its stance. 

Okay. That’s weird.

I step closer to the bird. There goes those warning bells again as I try to get it to respond to me. It doesn’t. In fact it barely seems to register me at all, its large eyes looking around blankly. It chirped for a moment. Like regular bird sounds and not as in I can understand it.

Then it hits me.

“I don’t think this is a real owl.”

My clone looks at me, eye wide as it moves farther away. “Then what the fuck is it?” she asks, her voice slightly panicked.

I feel a sudden weight in my hand and I look down. My tri-core wand is there. I back up a few paces and point the tip at the owl. “Show me thy true face,” I command and a shot of white comes out of my wand. The owl starts to ruffle its feathers as if it’s got a bad itch and it makes noises which turn louder and more distressed. I don’t want to look but I force myself to as it morphs from a screeching bird to a glass cube with white smoke swirling in the middle. A few tawny brown feathers are scattered on my island while me and #2 stare at the object.

“I have no idea what that is,” Me #2 says and I’m pretty much in agreement. I decided to take a picture of it and send it to Time to have Knowledge find out. They got back to me within minutes.

Time: Knowledge says it’s a Felpton Cube. They’re used to record and transmit images and other data via magic. They’re not very common right now in the era you’re in so whoever used it on you had to have some serious connections. This version can be transfigured and still retain its functioning capabilities while transformed.

That son of a bitch was spying on me.

Time: Use caution, Charlotte. He’ll be expecting to get his cube back. So don’t give in to the urge to smash it. Knowledge says if you use the spell, corrumpere data sunt, you’ll be able to corrupt what he’s recorded on the device. 

I didn’t have to be told twice. Because my wand is still in my hand, I choose to use it. I cast the spell and the white smoke within turns a murky brown. I noticed the edges turn dark grey, like they’ve been burnt. Good. I hope that means it’s ruined. Fucking son of a bitch. I guess I know where he stands.

I type out a thanks to Time and then look at the letter still hovering inside. I needed to make a copy of it before I gave in to the urge to destroy it and lost the ability to read what he had to say.

With great patience, I succeeded in keeping the original intact - spells and all - and soon I had a copy of the written words. 

Taking a deep steadying breath, I begin to read what he decided to say to me.

Dear Daniella,

Oh hell no, he does not get to call me by my name like he knows me.

I am rather disturbed and disappointed at what I have been told happened during Hagrid’s trip with you and young Hadriana. I assure you that Hagrid means well and truly cares about Hadriana. He came back to Hogwarts incredibly upset and telling me how you had been rather forceful and sabotaged his attempts to ensure Hadriana had everything she required. That you sent him to the Leaky Cauldron after the events of Gringotts. 

I had to stop for a moment because I swear to god my eye is twitching. 

What? 

...

What?!  

What the green grocer buggering fuck is he talking about? 

I have been informed that because you refused his assistance that you did not get Hadriana all her supplies. You claim to take caring for her quite seriously and yet she will not have the necessary items to to properly perform at school. 

He was genuinely placing the blame for not purchasing stuff that were not on the school supply list on my shoulders. That is some big balls. Huge brass ones.

I would request that you allow Professor McGonagall or myself to escort young Hadriana to Diagon Alley to get the rest of her supplies. Also I would insist you no longer involve yourself in Hadriana’s finances and allow me to continue possession of her key. As her  magical guardian, it is my right to oversee such things. I would hate for Hadriana to lose the person who has been taking care of her to find themselves in trouble.

You can go fuck yourself! You send this to my house, on the wings of a transfigured spy cube and threaten my safety?!

I’m going to go back to Gringotts as soon as possible and get that inheritance test and order an audit. After reading that, I’m now 100% certain he’s been stealing from Hadriana’s trust vault and probably done other things as well.

Please lower your wards so that I may apparate and take Hadriana tomorrow to conduct business. After you read this it would be a smart idea to burn this letter after you have finished reading it. Please send my owl back to let me know you have received and understood my words. 

He signed his name and all those many titles after that. 

Everything is very quiet as I take in what I have read, process it, and then completely disregard his orders. This whole letter read as if he had gone completely delusional and lost his mind. I wondered if he had. It would explain the Red Spectrum on the original. Red spectrum meant the spell was geared towards permanent mind altering so I’m damn sure he tried to make Daniella believe his version of events. Add that on top of his obvious orders and threats, there’s only one conclusion to draw upon.

Albus Dumbledore is my enemy.

Years of fanfiction ingestion has numbed my ability to be upset about that. Although a part of me was really hoping he was just a meddling old man.

Nope. I get the universe where he’s a bad guy. Perfect.

Chapter Text

I had really wanted to just relax at home, maybe start on getting myself acquainted with my school books as well as the other books I bought at Flourish and Blotts. But no! Thanks to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumble dick that didn’t happen.

Instead I have to get dressed up, strap my tri-core wand on while apologizing to the Holly and Phoenix feather I can’t start practicing with it, and teleport to Gringotts ASAP to try and block Headmaster Asshole from doing anything to Hadriana’s vaults. 

The Goblin guards bowed to me in welcome as I speed walked inside. I tried to make sure I gave them nods in response. I was in the main hall for about 30 seconds before an employee came up to me and asked what I required.

“I need to speak to Ser Grimhatch,” I tell the Goblin, trying to appear calm but I’m sure I was failing. “As soon as he possibly can.”

The Goblin nodded and told me to follow him. He even used my name, so I’m pretty sure word has travelled and they all know who I am.

I was escorted to the elevators again but was not taken to the throne room. Instead I went to a large office with an impressive desk, two comfortable looking chairs in front of it.

“If you would please take a seat,” the Goblin escort requests. “Would you care for refreshment of any sort while you wait?” Yeah, this guy knows who I am because Goblins aren’t normally this accommodating. At least I don’t think so. I really need to read up on my Fae lore.

“I don’t suppose you guys have any ginger ale or fizzing peach water?” I needed something to settle my stomach since the whole debacle in my kitchen still has me in knots.

“Right away,” the Goblin said, clicking his heels as he turned 180 degrees and then left. Watching someone do that as fluidly as he did is impressive no matter who you are. 

I didn’t have to wait long for either Grimhatch or my drink and I felt kind of bad when both Grimhatch and Steelrook both came in, both looking their normal cross selves but with something glittering in their eyes. I got to my feet but Steelrook motioned for me to sit back down.

“We did not anticipate you showing up so soon, Lady Proxy,” King Steelrook stated. “Your mannerisms from our past dictate you would have scheduled the time to come back for a meeting. What has happened?” He went to sit at Grimhatch’s desk with Grimhatch standing at his side.

I reached into my bag and removed the holding cards where the letters were safely tucked away and out of any ability to influence. I then took out the harmless copy I had made and held it out to the king. “This morning I received a letter from Albus Dumbledore. This is a copy I made of it so that no one could be afflicted by what he imbued the actual letter with.”

When I look back on all this, it’s a really big sign of how much trust the Goblin King himself has of me that he just took the letter from my hand instead of Grimhatch or the guy who brought me my drink did and handed it to Grimhatch who then would have handed it to the king.

The unhappy expression on Steelrook’s face darkened quite a bit as he read the letter before then handing it off to Grimhatch.

“The wording of this letter shows his arrogance but the words alone would not have sent you hurrying to our hold,” Grimhatch mused after he finished the letter. “What else did he do?”

“The actual letter contained compulsions bordering on mind control and behavior altering. Touching them would have activated whatever he put in the ink. With how strong it is, I’m guessing there’s blood in it. Something the wizarding world probably doesn’t view highly on outside of protection magic.”

“Even then they dismiss it as being dark and risky,” Grimhatch confirmed. “A view he himself has helped further. Were you able to contain them in a fashion so that they could still be read without touching them?”

I nodded. “I engulfed them in containment glass and then put them in a holding card. Though I separated the letter and the envelope into different cards.” I motioned to the pair of cards I’d put on the desk. “Also it seems that Dumbledore had possession of something he shouldn’t have and was attempting to use it as a spying method when he delivered the letter.” They both looked at me as I removed the Felpton Cube from my bag. “I don’t know who all knows what this is but it’s called a Felpton Cube. It’s a recording and playback device that, according to Time and Knowledge, isn’t actively used in this period. It’s safe to touch as far as I know if you’d like to examine it.”

“You had one of these when you appeared to us long ago,” Steelrook informed me as he took it from me. “It helped corroborate your testimony and cemented your alliances with us.”

Good to know. “I’m pretty sure I’ve broken this one,” I said. “All this together gives you an idea why I came here so quickly.”

“As you should,” Grimhatch confirmed. “Albus Dumbledore has been attempting to gain access to Hadriana Potter’s vaults for years. Even with the key, he did not have permissions to touch the main vaults. Should he have been successful with his message, the Potter vaults would have been his for the using. I do not know how aware you are of the Potter family fortune but it is large. Though without any input, the investments haven’t flourished as much as they should have.”

“The gold isn’t flowing as much as trickling, I take it?”

“Indeed.”

“I don’t know how helpful I can be since I’ve never been business minded, but I’ll have a look over.”

“If it helps ease your mind, Lady Proxy, as your account manager I also oversee investments. As the Radcliffe advisor you’ve already installed me as investment overseer of a few non-magical and magical businesses. If you give me clearance, I can do the same with the Potter accounts so you are not overwhelmed but can still keep a consistent eye on activity.”

I agreed to his proposal, though I’m intrigued at what the hell I’d invested in. That should be interesting to discover.

“We shall recall the current Potter Key at once, issue you a new key with tighter security charms to prevent any further attempt of theft on the Potter assets,” Steelrook announced. Grimhatch bowed in agreement as he opened a desk drawer and removed several folders from it. “If you are feeling up to it, My Lady, we should go over the Potter account matters now before Dumbledore attempts any other plays involving your livelihood as Hadriana.”

“Did you have breakfast before you arrived here?” Steelrook asked suddenly. I shook my head. “Too much was going on, no time to grab anything. I did have some juice and this,” I held up the half-empty glass I’d been drinking from, “but nothing solid.”

“Tell Urslaugh the Lady Proxy is here and she needs to break her fast. We will be going over paperwork so they can expect to serve her for lunch as well.”

The Goblin who got me my drink bowed and left. I glanced curiously. “Urslaugh?”

“The cook of the royal family. They’ve done so for generations. They will be delighted to prepare food for you once more,” Steelrook explained.

“Let me guess: another thing with me who is not yet me?” I asked slightly exasperated. Both Goblins nodded.

“I really hope one day I get the full story to figure out what exactly I did besides helping make debit cards a thing in the magical world,” I say out loud. “Because I have a feeling it was one wild ride. Now… where should we start with the Potter business?”

~OoOoOoOoO~

It took hours to work on the Potter holdings. That impromptu breakfast tuned into a luncheon and dinner. It wasn’t a mess, because Grimhatch was meticulous and thorough. But there was SO FREAKING MUCH TO GO THROUGH. On top of the Potter standard stuff of potion patents, business holdings, and property listings - all of which were vast, I had to go through the items that I had acquired from the Right of Conquest. 

“I remember the identity test saying I should get one of those to get the full list of Vassals I was awarded,” I mused.

“It would merely show you a list of the individuals you have claimed to instead of the overview of the family names,” Grimhatch explained.

“Let me guess: not like the ID test where you guys have a copy?” I asked, partially hoping they had one and I didn’t have to spill blood today as well.

“I’m afraid not, my lady,” confirmed Steelrook. I sighed heavily in disappointment. “Okay, so what would the inheritance test show that the ID wouldn’t and do you recommend me performing it today?”

“It will give you a complete report of everything the ID test did not. It acts as both a heritage reading as well as gives a status of things like how much money would be in your vaults or things bequeathed to you not on our ledgers. And everything is far more in depth in its’ reveal.” Grimhatch pulled out a sheet of parchment that was pre-marked with areas to be filled out. “As you can see, besides the standards you will have recognized from the Identification test, it will give you a read of family history of grandparents, parents, siblings, godparents, and magical guardians. It will list your Heirships, Titles, Vaults, Creature Inheritances, Blood Status, any active spells, potions, or blocks upon your person. And finally a list of Unique Magical Abilities as well as the list of whom you’ve inherited or gained as Vassals.”

You ever look at a piece of paper after a long day of work and just know this is going to be an even longer day?

“We can easily put this off until tomorrow or the next day, My Lady,” Grimhatch assured me. “It does not need to happen today.”

I stared at the paper. It needed to get done but with how tired I was, I didn’t think I could handle whatever surprises it could give me. But maybe…

“Would it be okay if I took the test, you guys look at it now to confirm if Dumbledore is written as my guardian? I’ll read it later and we can go over what it says another day that is convenient for you guys.”

“We’re here to work for you, Lady Proxy,” Grimhatch insisted. “We can easily go over the results tomorrow should you wish it. All you need to do is tell us a time and we will do our best to oblige.”

Steelrook nodded in agreement. I looked at the king. “You’re the King. I don’t think I’m that important for you to drop everything-”

“You are.”

Okay, that tone brokered no argument. I nodded and covered my mouth as another yawn escaped. “Okay. So I take the test and you guys look it over, maybe make a copy that I can take home and review. If Dumbledore isn’t listed as being in any position of guardianship for me or rather Hadriana, what do we do? Because we looked over the deposits and withdrawals. He’s obviously been in the trust vault because we’ve got at least 30k in galleons being removed and I as Hadriana haven’t stepped into Gringotts before two days prior. And I have Griphook as my witness to Hagrid’s statement that Dumbledore had my key.”

“Which has now been invalidated and has successfully repossessed,” Steelrook stated. “And if he is shown to not have been granted permission to govern any part of your life through this test? We will freeze his accounts while doing a full scale investigation on all expenditures. And we will not stop at his personal ones. After all,” Steelrook grinned and it looked absolutely bloodthirsty, “he could have easily placed the ill gotten gains into one of his business accounts. We must be absolutely thorough.”

After what happened that brought me in here today? I have nothing to say against it. The old fucker can have every bit of his life pulled apart with a fine toothed comb.

“So putting that test aside, how much left of the Potter account do we need to go through?” I asked. Because I am so done right now tackling this thing. Most of this went into a shitshow because James Potter didn’t do his due diligence and now I’m shouldered with Grimhatch to get it sorted out. Did you know that if a potion’s patent doesn’t get renewed, depending on the terms of the contract drawn up it cannot be brewed or sold until permissions are redone?

Well now you do.

And given the amount of potions the Potter family had patents for? I can guarantee a lot of people would have been pissed when they went to the store and suddenly they couldn’t get a hold of them. 

“All that’s left is to sign your name on a few documents, including authorization to allow me to become the Potter investment manager and you will be done,” Grimhatch assured me. “You’ve done remarkably well today.”

“Especially since we know you would have preferred to stay home and work on preparing for the school year ahead,” Steelrook added.

“Yeah well, I can blame James Potter for most of the mess we had to weigh through,” I shrug, happy to earn their praise despite my casual tone. “I mean I know there was a war going on so some things got put on the back burner but some of these really needed handling!”

“Unlike his forebears, James Potter didn’t have the drive to handle his family affairs and more often than not let them sit,” Grimhatch explained. “Neither did he provide authorization for me to directly handle matters like businesses, investments, and the like. So my hands were tied in how much I could do. I believe you’ve done more in one day with me than James Potter did in all our interactions.”

If that isn’t a horrifying thought, then I don’t know what is. Because I am not good with large business matters and management. I can make decisions but I don’t have the kind of instincts needed to run political or business things. Which is why past/future me probably had the smart idea to get Grimhatch to handle those kinds of decisions and investments when they thought, “Hey! Let’s do some of that stuff!”

A new wave of exhaustion came over me and I groaned, rubbing my eyes. I really used a lot of energy today and I’m definitely going to be sleeping again. “Alright, let’s get this test done and you guys look over it,” I said. “I’ll take a copy and read it at home and then we’ll discuss what happens next.”

You guys know the drill. I cut my finger, some blood went on the parchment, and soon words upon words started filling it up. I, of course, did not look at what it said. I was too tired. I had handed it over to Grimhatch and Steelrook to review while I healed my finger and then finished up with the documents I had to read and sign.

I’m not going to lie: the Goblin contracts they make aren’t at all confusing like you’d think they would be. I don’t know if it’s because it’s for me, but it’s all very straight forward and looks solid. Steelrook and Grimhatch have also been incredibly patient when I ask them questions, something I didn’t know was possible. Because we all know how these guys are business people and time is money, right? Maybe it’s because of what I did or rather will do for them or they somehow know if I can’t understand or do this properly, gold ain’t going to flow to the optimal levels.

Or maybe they’re just that awesome.

Either way, despite how tired I am, I’m fully able to read through what I’ve been given and sign it with confidence. I’m just dotting my last ‘i’ when Grimhatch calls my name. “It would seem Albus Dumbledore has absolutely no ties or guardianship permissions according to the test,” he told me. “We shall begin the investigations immediately.”

“Good. Excuse my language, Your Majesty, but make the bastard suffer.”

Steelrook smiled that toothy grin. “It will be done, Lady Proxy.” They made me a copy of the heritage/inheritance document and handed it off. “Would you like us to store the Felpton cube and the letters for evidence in case of future legal action?” Grimhatch asked. “We could also make enquiries among the Unspeakables as to the Cube and get you a law wix to handle any future legal incidents.”

“Please? Honestly I wouldn’t know who to hire since I don’t get out much and despite my apparent ties to the Malfoy family, I’m a little averse to asking them for recommendations.” I couldn't help myself but chuckle. “Growing up in my past life, you get told all about how the Fair Folk are tricksters and you should be careful around them. Yet, I trust you all more than I do any of the humans.” I let out a curse word. “And that might be considered offensive and racist. I severely apologize!”

“Begging your pardon, Lady Proxy, but your inner voice isn’t that far off  it’s judgement.” Steelrook smiled. “We are shrewd, we goblins, and still very much in tune with our old ways. You are in a unique position and we know better than to exploit it for selfish means. You will always be able to trust us and we would fall upon our blades before we betrayed you.”

I felt all warm and happy at that and smiled softly at him. “Thank you, King Steelrook.” I sighed and got to my feet. “I am now going home where I will pass out and then in the morning I shall read what this says.” I held up the rolled parchment. “And then probably freak out  because it’s going to give me information I was not prepared for. With your permission, King Steelrook, I would like to teleport myself home from inside the Bank.”

“Permission granted, My Lady. Be safe. And please come to us immediately should something else happen.”

I nod and then in a flash am gone, safely ensconced within my house in Cokeworth. I am utterly drained but before I do anything, I check for activity against my wards. Someone stopped by but I didn’t recognize the impression they left. Whoever it was barely stayed longer than 30 seconds and just pressed their hand against it to check them. The hopeless fangirl in me wished it had been Snape just so I could have seen his residual image. I really need to get a grip on that desire of mine.

No avian visitors or letters awaited me upon return either, which was nice. I went to have a very nice soak in the tub and listen to Jim Hensen’s the Labyrinth soundtrack. Hopefully not accidentally drowning myself if I fell asleep in the tub. 

It’s a really nice tub.

Chapter Text

I fell asleep in my bathtub but I don't feel bad about it. It's a really nice tub. I do find it impressive I didn't drown though I do now think I need to ask Death about how I can die. Because honestly? I like falling asleep in the bathtub. Just something very lulling and relaxing floating in water. Makes it even better when your tub prevents the water from falling below a certain heat level if the water's temperature was hot.

What? You thought I'd have a normal bathtub when I have capability to make an awesome one like this? Oh please! Y'all would do the same thing in my position. Hell, you probably add jacuzzi jets in it.

Shit... I need to go add jacuzzi jets to my tub now.

So yeah I slipped into unconsciousness for a good hour at least. Thankfully the music player decided to keep in the Labyrinth soundtrack theme and it broke a couple of song covers into the playlist. So besides Bowie’s original versions of the regular soundtrack, I got to hear some different ‘As the World Falls Down’ renditions. And I don’t know if y’all have ever done a search on Youtube for them but there are some very nice covers out there. 

My bathtime nap was followed by a shower rinse off and then it was off to the kitchens for something to drink. And possibly some pirate roll sushi with no spicy mayo, extra eel sauce.

Hey - if I’m feeling better and I’m going to be reading some of those books I bought, I need snackage! Don’t judge me.

Good news is that I might have fallen asleep but I didn’t summon a clone. Win!

I spend the next several hours first going through the guide books. Very informative. If this is actually a version of me who wrote these, I did good because I wasn’t bored and learned a lot. 

Besides the written stuff, you’ve got a lot of detailed diagrams in these. Thanks to the animated ability of wizarding pictures, they’re even easier to follow. Before I head back to Gringotts, I’ll make a quick stop into Scribbulus Writing Implements in Diagon so I can practise writing with a quill just to say I attempted to try it.

Oh man… I gotta read that Heritage & Inheritance Test.

Even after my rest, I dread what I will read on that thing. I stare at it as I drag it out of my bag. I feel like it’s going to bite me and I won’t like what it says. Obviously the thing I know it says is that Dumbledore isn’t in any kind of guardian capacity. Which means outside of being my future Headmaster, he has no power over my life.

So any threats he made or makes towards Daniella is just bloated gas coming out of his mouth.

With a deep intake of breath, I unroll the scroll and look upon my test.

And after a few minutes I am very glad I’m not currently drinking anything. Because I would damn well be spit taking right now. Probably choking too. Because right under godparents/magical guardians is my flipping joke name! How is that even possible?!

And don’t you dare say time travel! Because it might be true but fucking christ how the hell did I manage to convince both James and Lily Potter to name me a magical guardian?! What the hell did I do?! Because I definitely didn’t join the Order of the Flaming Chicken!

I had to put the scroll down and put my hands over my face. 

I whip my phone out, so very incredibly tempted to text a message to Time. So very tempted to just blurt out “I’m my own magical guardian.” Simple and to the point. I can imagine at least three different replies that he could make. Could practically hear his voice in the words.

Oh my. Apparently my phone has thought-to-text capability.

The words I want to say are right there on the screen and all I have to do is hit send.

Instead, I delete them. Put my phone to the side and return my attention to the test.

Down in wands, I have to blink at the read out since whatever the cores inside it are, they’re freaking redacted on this test. So I still don’t have a flipping clue what’s in there. I squash down my frustration and continue reading.

I am thoroughly overwhelmed with how many titles I have. What the ever loving fuck?! I hope blood adoption is a thing because that’s… I blink. Fourteen families?! How?! And these names! Somebody is taking the piss. I couldn’t just be the Heir to the Potter family and maybe Gaunt and Slytherin Heir via Rite of Conquest? Why am I the Heir to House Black? I thought that line was paternal based! Shouldn’t it be like Draco Malfoy’s or something since I’m female?

Let’s… leave that alone for now.

Vaults.

I’m loaded.

Like I’d make Jeff Bezos look like he was on that welfare Conservatives always shame people for and keep trying to cut kind off rich. I apparently own the kind of money that I would have killed to get one percentage of in my past life. If I’d even a ghost of this amount in my past, I could have done so much. Lived comfortably and safely. Instead I was bobbing the poverty line, trying to not drown. I could have lived farther than my 40s, I can tell you that much!

I can feel a headache starting and I push through to read on to Life Debts.

Holy shit.

Unless this is another Steelrook, then the King of the Gringotts Goblins owes me a life debt.

“Well,” I said aloud with a prolonged pause, “That explains a few things.”

Whatever I did or rather will do in the past caused Steelrook to owe me his life. And it’s not just him. I’m glad I’m sitting down because reading this list of Life Debts makes me dizzy and questioning everything I know.

The people I know from canon as being alive I can deal with. The names I don’t recognize, I figure I can investigate at a later time. Or just leave them alone.

It’s the three names that stand out, mocking me that should be well and dead if the timeline was proper that caused me to push the parchment away from me.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Gideon Hannibal Prewitt.

Fabian Osbourn Prewitt.

“This is impossible,” I state, my voice shaking. How do dead men owe me life debts?! It takes me a few minutes of panicking before I remember the notepad Death gave me. Didn’t think I would be using it this soon but then again, I didn’t expect to suffer an attempted attack on my person so soon either. So fuck you, Expectations! You’ve apparently gone sailing out the fucking window!

I go and grab the Death Note, then proceed to open it up and scrawl the names that are causing me distress.

I am nowhere close to being okay with what I read.

All three of those men are definitely alive.

Forget Time, now I need to speak to Death and I don’t think this can be put down as a simple text. Because I don’t know how some people deal but I am having a serious crisis of belief in canon events.

My hands are shaking as I get my phone and look up Death under my contacts. I press the little telephone symbol and put it to my ear.

“Please answer for the love of God,” I pray.

He answered. “Hello, My Proxy,” he cheerfully. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I don’t sleep except for rarely but that’s besides the point,” I inform him. “I’m having a crisis and I don’t know who else to talk to given what has triggered this panic.”

“Well that does sound horrible,” he quips, his voice still sounding like Hugh Laurie’s with an American accent.

“I am questioning everything I know and you’re sounding like the chronically sarcastic Dr. House does not help me, Death! I’ve got three people who are alive that owe me life debts and they’re supposed to be dead! I’ve got money out the ass I don’t need that would have helped give me a better way of life in my last one. I’m the Heir to fourteen families including Slytherin, Gaunt, one called De Morte, and Potter! I don’t know what the cores in my wand are and I’m fucking losing my mind because Dumebldore tried to use blood magic infused mind controlling ink on a letter as well as a spy cube on me this morning! I never got my ticket, I’m harboring a crush on Severus Snape, I’m apparently friends with the Malfoys - who apparently owe me a god damned life debt as well! I haven’t even gotten half of this Heritage and Inheritance Test read and I’m now having a god damned anxiety attack! I spent over eight hours today going through the fucking Potter accounts and trying to clean up the mess they were left in at Gringotts which is where I went after Dumbledick attacked us! I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I can’t hide from any of it!”

I’m definitely screaming by the end of all that. Didn’t mean to. I’m also crying and I’m not one who cries around others easily. I half expect Death to just hang up on me but he doesn’t. Instead he asks, “Are you at home?”

“Yes. I got worn out working on the Potter accounts and the King and Grimhatch sent me home to rest. I passed out in my bathtub.”

“Well it’s nice to know you didn’t drown,” he said. It was a whole lot clearer than if he was on the phone and I very literally jumped when I turned around and saw him just casually leaning against my kitchen island. A few expletives crossed my lips before I pushed the button to end the call. I was glaring at him.

“Good to know my wards are useless against the Powers,” I grumbled.

“No, just me and Time,” he assured me. “And maybe Fate. Magic might also have access but she’s in so much trouble right now I doubt she’ll be swinging by anytime soon.” He smiled as he brought a mug to his lips. “Actually I don’t know how many of us can gain entrance to this lovely house of yours but I doubt any of us intend to harm you.” He took a drink and placed it down on the counter. “Now!” he clapped. “What triggered you into having a meltdown?”

I showed him my test and pointed to the names. “These three are supposed to be dead! But they’re not! And they owe me life debts! How?”

“You checked using the Death Note?”

“Yes and it confirmed they’re alive! That’s why I called you! To maybe explain this or comfort me or just help me understand how?!”

I’m pacing the kitchen floor and my mind is so busy reeling and trying to process it all that I don’t notice things. Like how Death just watches me with this unreadable expression as he stays leaning against the counter, looking thoroughly relaxed as I am losing my mind.

“There’s so much going on right now! Stuff is different and not in the ‘oh this is a cute minor change!’ People are alive that are supposed to be dead and I’m the cause! Or I will be the cause! I don’t even know these characters aside from what little I gathered about Regulus! Gideon and Fabian are blank slates! And I’m the Heir to too many families! Why am I the Heir to so many families?! How does that even work?!”

“Charlotte.”

“Oh and that’s real cute, by the way,” I say pointing at him. “De Morte?I thought you didn’t have a family line in this universe but clearly you did at one point. And now I’m part of it?! Am I going to look at this thing and find out I have seats on the Wizengamot too?”

Before he can respond, I storm over to the document and look for Wizengamot seats. “Son of a bitch, I do have them! I have six bloody god damned seats on the WIzengamot!”

“Charlotte.”

I’m going to have to attend Wizengamot meetings?! Partake in votes?! Well thank goodness I got the equivalent to the Idiot’s Guide Book to the subject so I don’t make a complete and utter fool of myself! Oh wait - I will make a fool of myself because that’s all I can do!”

Surprisingly strong arms suddenly wrapped around me, pinning me still.

“Breathe, Charlotte,” he ordered softly. “You need to stop and breathe .”

He was right. I know he was right. But it’s very hard to stop and breathe when everything you know is coming into question.

“It is going to be alright,” he promised. “Not everything you know is wrong. I will call Time and even Fate in here if you need assurances but it is going to be alright .”

He restrains me long enough to be appropriate to calm me down before taking the Heritage & Inheritance Test from me. “Now sit down. Get yourself an order of food and something to drink while I look at this,” he orders, stepping away and turning his attention to the parchment.

I comply. A quick trip to my catalogue and I have a pirate roll and a nice ginger beer ready to consume. I sit down at the island counter while keeping an eye on Death as he looks over my test.

Half my slowly chewed roll later, Death finally speaks up.

“Oh dear.”

I groaned mid chew at his chosen phrase and breath. I will not have another panic attack - especially while eating my favorite sushi. No. Not going to happen.

Death slid into the seat next to me. “So to begin: your feelings of being overwhelmed and stressed out are very valid. Especially for someone in you’re... unique position.”

I nod in acceptance and finish my current piece. “If I look at it from your perspective, an emotional ridden ex-deity forced into constant mortal incarnation cycles and has a degree of respect to the rules. And not from say the seat of an irrevocable and primordial force who could just tell all this to shove off and go do what I want? Yeah. That’s a lot. Especially for someone fresh off the had not and past life was really shit train. But here’s what I also know. You’re going to be fine. Maybe not perfect because your life, no matter which one you are living, will ever be perfect. You had had perfect and it was ripped from you. All you can do now is try to live the best you can.”

I chewed another piece as I listened.

“Now I can try and get Time to come over, maybe give some helpful advice. Or I can call Fate & Destiny in here and they can give you assurances. Offer up some particularly colourful foreshadowing and hints. Maybe give you some sneak peeks about what’s being spun on the old loom. Since they like you, it would be easier to get them to visit. I wouldn’t trust Magic near you with a 500 foot pole since she’s rather unhinged and delusional. I think this universe’s constant whittling down on rituals and the inbreeding has done a number on her. Probably can fix it but not in my job description.”

“No, it’s probably in mine,” I grumble. Not that I mind fighting to get certain rituals and methods that would encourage the flow and positive spread of magic. I just find that particular Power I’m the proxy to a detestable person. Fitting she looks like JK Rowling, a woman who herself has shown to be quite detestable.

“You got time. It’s not like the late 2010s and climate damage became irreversible. Yet.”

I shot him a warning glare. I’m trying not to focus on the past.

“Right. Moving on. These three men being alive is probably a blessing in disguise. You already know where one of them should be so if you feel like going to seek Regulus out and get some answers, do it. Go to Grimmauld Place,  interact with a mad house elf, destroy the portrait, I don’t know. Or don’t. You can wait until or if any of these individuals seek you out first. Like I said, I can call a couple of my siblings who can help give you better advice than mine.” I watched as he attempted to snatch one of my last pieces from my plate. To which I quickly slid my plate closer to me.

“So why did you call me first?” he asked, his mug sliding over to him wordlessly. He took a drink from it.

“Because I have a soft spot for Hugh Laurie over Stephen Fry,” I joked. He snorted softly and I shook my head. “Honestly my first reaction to reading the early parts of the test was to text him but I thought it might be weird since I couldn’t tell if he’d welcome the bother. It might put him in a spot and not be able to give me answers because I would have loved to know what the heck happened. So I chose not to. Then I got to the life debts section and... “ I motioned my hands in the air. “Dead men living seemed more like something you could help answer.”

“I understand. I’m also going to take great pride in bragging to him that you like me more.”

I looked at him wide eyed. “I don’t like you more than him!” I deny. “My feelings are very equal about you, thank you so much!”

“Ah but you didn’t text him and you called me!”

“Yes, because the situation was more your area of expertise!”

“But you could have texted me.”

“I was far too emotionally unstable to write it down even with the special functions and that kind of thing required more immediate response time than a text!”

“With all due respect, I will reject your reality and substitute my own. I’m your favorite and that’s what I’m going to tell everybody.”

“And I will deny that to my final breath in this life since the next will probably lack this much if any further direct contact between us,” I respond. I blink as I think of something. “Are you teasing me to help calm me down?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “I’m teasing you because you’re easy.”

I shot him a look and ate the last piece of my sushi.

“You think you can handle reading the rest of this alone?” Death questioned, his hand holding out the rolled up scroll.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time,” I automatically replied.

He sent a disapproving look towards me. “That isn’t what I asked,” he stated. “What I said was, Do you think you can handle reading this on your own without someone here?”

I eyed the thing in question and was solid for a good few minutes. “I don’t know. I think I’m okay now but I don’t know what might happen if I read more of it.”

“Then I’m staying until you do.”

And he did.

Death stayed in the room with me while I unrolled the test with slight unsteady hands.

Much to my profound relief, there were only two sections left to review on the test. The first was a very very long list of vassals which contained every marked Death Eater I knew from canon, with their full names on display. All of them I knew were alive from my knowledge of the books and films but it was kind of cool to know their full names and not just the surnames. Like the DE I knew that got killed in the Attack on Hogwarts in Half-Blood Prince, Gibbon? His name’s Arnold. And he’s in prison right now.

Also Fenrir Greyback’s middle name is Rufus.

I’m torn between making the “Really?” face and trying not to lose my shit that one of the most vile and violent characters in this universe was given the middle name of Rufus.

And I thought Remus’ name was ridiculous.

“Hey, Death?”

I looked up at him. He was apparently flipping through one of the Guidebooks. He hummed in reply. “Do you know much about how vassals work in this world? I remember vaguely how they worked in feudal muggle society but I’m not too sure about wizarding.”

“I know it’s different but that’s not something I’m all to read up on from here. Most of us don’t have vassals as much as we have acolytes or worshippers. If you don’t want to ask the goblins for help, I can see if Knowledge would be interested in sharing. Or you can. I’m pretty sure she’s in your contacts list.”

“I’m a little bit intimidated messaging them since I only had that small meet and greet back in the Orb.”

“Just message her and ask. She likes sharing. Besides, it will be good for her to have someone to chat with. But try and be as specific as possible at what you want to know. She’ll overshare and go off on an educational tangent if you let her.”

I nodded, making a note to keep it in mind when I texted her. The final spot on the test involved Blocks, Potions, and Enchantments and it was blank. Nothing but a strongly written advisement to get an in depth medical history scan.

“I guess because I took over and regrew the body, anything that was placed on it was destroyed,” I mused.

Which made sense. And this meant I definitely needed to see if the Goblins would help me in terms of this regard. I was pretty sure they would but I was also certain Steelrook was going to try and wave the damn fee again.

I sighed deeply, rolling the parchment up and slipping the decorative metal ring over it to keep it closed. Death left not too soon afterwards, making sure I was going to be okay. I checked the time. It was 5 am now.

I needed to process and think about what I had learned through that test. Determined to this time read it over carefully and take notes, I grabbed my phone, a notebook, some pencils, and the scroll and went into the living room. The stereo turned on at my entrance, soft strains of classical music playing as I got comfortable on my sofa. I conjured up an adjustable table and went to work making notes on what to get clarification for.

I think I dozed off again because the next thing I know it was 9 am and some asshole just bounced off my wards.

I hope it was Dumbledore and I sent him to a volcano somewhere.

Chapter Text

“You’d think after the second time they’d stop trying to get in,” one of my clones mused as we felt another reverberation of an attempt foiled. There were three of them gathered around my open concept main floor and we’d all taken to studying our books. One for Lockhart’s novels, One for the Muggleborn Guides, and me and clone number 3 were looking through our school books. I figured I’d try the quick information gain method using my clones.

I still don’t know who keeps trying to teleport in but given how Dumbledore did threaten to come over today in his letter, so I’ll say it’s him until I find out otherwise.

“I wonder how long until the authorities register someone’s casting magic in this area,” Clone 1 asks, flipping a page of Wanderings with Werewolves. “That’s how it works right? They pick up on strange magical occurrences in muggle neighborhoods?”

“Supposedly. But then again maybe he got one of his little bootlickers to cover up any alarms,” I replied. I’m really hating the fact I have to officially know these proper names for some of these spells. I can do the exact if not better equivalents wordless never mind wandless!

I look on the table where Holly and Phoenix feather lays for me to practise movements with. I decided I would take some time to bond with it today since yesterday my intentions were bulldozed.

“The things I do to make sure you don’t get snapped,” I said to it and gave it a pat.

An hour after the last bounce, a Phoenix patronus flew into my living room. 

Oh that’s cute. He can’t get in so he sends me his ethereal messenger.

“Miss Radcliffe, lower the wards and let me in,” comes the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore and he sounds irritated. The patronus starts to dissipate, but I don’t think so. Time to do some magical manipulation.

“You’re going to send this message back to your caster, understand?” I ask. The ghostly bird cries out but I point my finger at it. “Obey!” It shuddered but then held still.

“Good now here’s what you’re going to repeat to him. ‘The residents of this property were attacked by a hostile object carried by a transmuted owl attempting to breach the wards yesterday morning. The invasion was prevented whatever was sent with a false owl burst into flames. As these wards prevent objects that would hold severe compulsions and mind altering spells, we can only assume that is what was intended to affect the residents within. We have increased the ward's defensive abilities. No one is allowed to gain entry without express permission from the owner of this property. You do not. Therefore…You shall not pass!’ After you pass on this message, you are going to explode and the resulting shockwave should be enough to trip any warning alarms to the Ministry. Now get out of my house!”

The patronus took flight as fast as possible and left and I looked at my clones. “I’m going to have lunch now,” I announced, tossing my text book onto the couch.

I felt a ripple across my wards that I recognized as the backlash from the exploding patronus as I got me a caprese salad and a vanilla iced latte. I couldn’t help but smile as I imagined the look on Dumbledick’s face.

~OoOoOoOoO~

The next day, I had not one, not two, but three mail birds enter my property. And yes, they were real birds. An albino swallow bearing a letter with the Malfoy crest alongside a copy of what turned out to be the Daily Prophet. A large black eagle which thanks to a past life of mine where I was a bird enthusiast I recognized as a verreaux's eagle holding a letter in its beak with the wax symbol I remembered from Severus Snape’s last letter to me. And finally a beautiful crow so black that when the sunlight hit him, I thought he was dark purple for a few minutes.

They all turned down my offer of a snack but did enjoy a glass of water. The only one who said he had to stick around for a response was the crow so I decided to tackle his letter first so he wouldn’t have to worry about being in a strange place for too long.

The letter, as it turned out, was from Lord Nox. Who happened to be the one that the goblins contacted on my behalf for wizarding legal matters. Interesting.

He offered to meet with me next week for an introductory meeting at his office. We’d go over what was expected of him and his services. I shrugged knowing I didn’t have another option right now and trusting the goblins’ judge of character, I wrote a reply telling him that was acceptable and to send me another missive if there was anything I needed to bring.

I felt a jolt of anxiety and prayed I wouldn’t need to bring any papers outside the heritage/inheritance test.

I sent the crow off with my reply and then turned my attention to the Malfoy letter.

The edges of the parchment were gilded gold and of course the penship was absolutely gorgeous. As was to be expected. 

Dear Ms Radcliffe,

Forgive my letter out of the blue as we haven’t interacted in almost 7 years until the day before’s luncheon. However given what has happened since we last conversed, I felt it was imperative I sent you a letter.

I called an emergency meeting with the other members of Hogwarts Board of Governors. They were far from pleased at what they found out on the matter of Young Miss Potter’s trip to Diagon Alley. We will be conducting a second meeting next week and calling on Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid as well as our mutual acquaintance, Severus Snape, to answer the questions we have. Naturally this isn’t something normally done but I think we can both agree given the renown Miss Potter has garnered, exceptions must be made. Especially given this is her first year at Hogwarts and in less than a month she is supposed to be among the attendees. Although after reviewing this morning’s Daily Prophet which I have enclosed, I would be very much surprised if she does. I know you’ve never been one for the Prophet but I felt as you will agree after reading it, it is worth a look.

I pulled some strings and gained a ticket for Hadriana to use in order to access the platform in case she does decide to attend Hogwarts despite the unpleasantness and hassle she’s undergone within this last week. You have my word and that of the Board of Governors that we will do all within our power to make sure Hadriana’s Hogwarts years are safe and incidents like her Diagon Alley trip will not be repeated.

As your friend, I can also vow that Narcissa and I are fully invested in Hadriana’s welfare and wellbeing. We know she is important to you, Daniella, just as our son Draco is to us. She is your priority and we will gladly stand by and assist you if you need it.

I have sent the platform ticket to Severus so that you may get it from him. He lives in your area and I have it on good authority he is a trustworthy  fellow and can provide assistance should you need it involving Hogwarts. I felt that by getting it from Severus you might feel more secure in your recipients. Plus Narcissa wanted to have someone we trust who has a keen eye for details  make sure you were looking well. I can only imagine the stress of the impending school year and seeing your ward off after so long in your custody is far worse than any deadline you’ve been under.

Write to us or at least Narcissa when you find the time. And please accept her offer of tea if you can. Don’t tell my wife I said this but she misses your unguarded company and the blunt way you speak rather fiercely.

And though the Slytherin in me is against my admitting what I am about to, I shall confess I myself have missed you in our lives as well.

Sincerest Wishes,

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

Well… I wasn’t expecting any of that. Vowing to process that item later, I unrolled the copy of the Prophet to find out what exactly was in it that caused Lucius Malfoy to think of me.

I found it on page three.

Home of Famous Author Under Attack In Midlands!

Girl-Who-Lived in Danger As A Result?! 

At around 2 pm yesterday, the Auror department received an alert that in a city in the Midlands (the exact place was not revealed to this reporter) where a magical explosion had occurred. Fearing the worst, a contingent of Wizarding Britain's finest were dispatched where they gathered to find a wizard (whose name has also not been revealed to the press) outside the heavily guarded property of one of our country’s most famous literary agents. Though this reporter would love to tell who it is, Dear Readers, certain elements have been 

discovered regarding this case that it would impact the safety and security of none other than the Girl-Who-Lived, Hadriana Potter, should the home owner’s name be revealed!

You’ll recall, Dear Readers, Miss Potter, has been kept out of the public eye since that Samhain Night nearly 11 years ago and was just recently spotted shopping for her school supplies in  Diagon Alley in London this past Friday. (see page 7) This attack may prove that her being secluded from our eyes and ears was a sound choice on behalf of Miss Potter’s guardian given the power of the explosion we’ve received. Several windows and muggle power lines were damaged and as of this moment the Ministry is still attempting to clean it up as we all know Muggle technology can be sensitive to magic as well as ensure no muggle witnessed the explosion.

As soon as more information is released, this reporter will be there to give you all, Ladies and Gentlewizards.

Rita Skeeter, Ace Daily Prophet Reporter 

Okay so it was lotta more powerful than I thought it was. Remind me to donate to the city’s infrastructure funds anonymously for that little whoopsie. I’ll take part of the blame for the damage.

Also, I honestly did not expect Skeeter to show up this soon OR there to be an article about this! I go to page 7 to see what they were referencing and read the article.

Girl-Who-Lives Makes Her Return After Almost 11 Years!

Groundskeeper of Hogwarts Chosen as Escort but Chooses to Spend Day Drinking At Leaky Cauldron!

Dear Readers, Residents all over Wizarding Britain were abuzz as they discovered that famed Girl-Who-Lived, Hadriana Potter, was finally brought out among us after 10 years of silence, with only messages coming from Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as our source of contact. Lucky patrons of the Leaky Cauldron yesterday morning were blessed with the sight of our heroine making her way to Diagon Alley accompanied by Hogwarts’ Groundskeeper, a Mister Rubeus Hagrid, and a dark haired woman that Miss Potter was spotted often holding the hand of during her trip. The Prophet has yet to receive any reply from Dumbledore on this woman’s relationship to Miss Potter or why she was accompanying the GIrl-Who-Lived during this time.

As we all know this year will be Miss Potter’s first year at Hogwarts and I know many people are excited that she will be attending the hallowed halls that her parents once graced.

But what should have been an exciting day purchasing supplies and robes turned sour after Miss Potter and her two escorts left Gringotts. The school representative, Rubeus Hagrid, left the pair to go to the Leaky Cauldron where many vouched he did not leave for the almost 8 hours it took Hadriana and her other companion to purchase what was on the list. Multiple witnesses told this reporter how he never left the table he’s sat at, and I can confirm that he had drunk quite the amount of mead and ale.

Obviously this is all highly disturbing to find out that Albus Dumbledore, a man so many of us respect, chose someone who flagrantly did not take their job seriously and chose to drink the day away while leaving Miss Potter and her other accompaniment to do their shopping.

But that, Dear Readers, is not even the worst of what happened that day!

During the evening, upon their return to the Leaky Cauldron, Miss Potter and her companion went to speak with Mister Hagrid, who was intoxicated and turned quite belligerent - so much so he threatened Miss Potter’s friend.

Though it appears that through a good samaritan that any violent altercation was avoided, one can’t help but sympathize and wonder.

Why would Albus Dumbledore choose someone who is so obviously unable to perform a job like escorting a child - let alone one as important as Hadriana Potter?

Will her escort’s obvious lack of ability reflect poorly upon Hadriana’s view of Hogwarts? Will the threats he made upon her companion leave her choosing to forgo a classic education and stay out of sight for fear of her safety?

This reporter waits with bated breath for any answers.

 Rita Skeeter, Ace Daily Prophet Reporter

Holy fracking Jeebus Krabbus!

Um…

I let out a nervous laugh as I reread the article. You know when I thought, “gee I wish Skeeter was here watching all this! She’d have a field day!” I didn’t legitimately think it would happen! It was facetious at best!

Wait… this article came out before he sent me the attempted mind-control letter and the Felton cube!

“That son of a bitch!” I shouted. I slammed the paper down on the counter and started pacing. If he’d read that article on Saturday morning, then he knew damn well on Sunday a lot of people knew how he’d fucked up and he’d probably gotten more than a few howlers telling him off. And his painting Hagrid as some poor lost soul was just rotting garbage he wanted to try and make me believe through the blood ink. What did he think - he could get me to come out and make a statement against the Prophet on top of me giving him access to all Hadriana’s things?

Fuck him.

Fuck him with a razor wire wrapped baseball bat up the anus and urethra. 

I should have controlled it so he bounced to Yellowstone where the cross-continental apparition would have torn him to pieces!

Okay, Charlotte. You need to calm down and breathe.

Since I’m still lacking a tv and thus I am without a game console, there’s only one other method I have on hand to properly purge myself of this aggravation.

I have to go running.

And not a simple run around my property, oh no. I’m going to actually have to jog my normal route through Cokeworth in order to regain my calm, otherwise I might start flinging hexes and breaking things!

It’s probably a bad idea. Might even be a very bad idea. For all I know Dumbledick could have people posted outside, waiting to see if I leave. Try and make a grab for me.

I am just pissed enough to hope he does so that they can get their asses handed to them.

~OoOoOoOoO~

Despite my hopes to get in a fight, there wasn’t ambush waiting for me once I crossed my border. Not that they would have spotted me once I came out; I’d willed it so anyone who tried looking at me unable to. Like how in Doctor Who, Tenant’s Doctor game Martha and Jack those perception filters. 

Now you’d think I would have said, “I applied a Notice-Me-Not Charm” but as it turns out, that spell is fanon. As is Tempus. The closest thing to canon you’d find to the Notice-Me-Not would be the Disillusionment Spell or possibly a Muggle Repelling Charm. Those are real.

Though I do have the ability to cast non-canon magic, if I said I had used Notice-Me-Not, that would have just perpetuated the cycle of characters using non-canon magicks as if they were actual spells.

This little info bit brought to you by: My Past Life’s Harry Potter Research Binges. 

MPL HPRB: We obsess because we care. Too much.

I was almost done with my run when I decided to stop by Tuttle’s, the fish and chips place on my route. A single floor brick building painted in multiple shades of blue, Tuttle’s was one of the few eateries in Cokeworth. The others being the local pub “The Boar’s Hound”, an Indian restaurant that I kept forgetting the name of because I didn’t eat there, and shockingly enough a Pizza Hut. Stuffed crust has yet to make an appearance but everything else I would normally get from my past life is there so that made me happy.

And here I bet you guys thought I only ate from my catalogue.

Turning off my filter so I could be seen, I stepped inside to the bustling but not overcrowded building. There was always a decent amount of business here which made me happy because the food was excellent and no one wants a good place going under.

I liked to stop by here when I really got a hankering for fried fish. Since I wasn’t exactly in some place I could get some Long John Silvers or Captain D’s, Tuttle’s was my cravings fix. The staff were friendly, the place was clean, and they had the very rare policy of free drink refills. Granted it was on only certain fizzy drinks and the limit was 3 refills maximum, but hey! It was a touch of American comfort to my homesick soul so I held it dear.

Being greeted with a ‘Ello, Love’ at the counter, I then ordered a fish and chips with my fish being made up in a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, with some tartar sauce on it. “You want pickles, bean or pea mix?” the cashier asked. I chose bean mix and they went to work cooking my order while I drank some lemonade.

I was mid-sip when I heard it.

“Enjoying the local cuisine?” asked a voice as decadent as my favorite cheesecake. I looked to my side and there he was. Severus Snape. God, he’s like a freaking ninja. He wore a black button-down shirt with matching toned pants, perfectly fitting in with the muggles and looking just as alluring as his voice sounded. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and it looked soft. This is the second time I noticed his hair didn’t appear at all greasy like the books claimed. Pushing away the thoughts of what it would feel like, I gave him a smile.

“I do actually,” I confirmed. “I come here every so often to indulge a craving. Plus,” I held up my cup, “free refills on select drinks.”

“An American thing I believe?”

“Yes but we usually do free unlimited ones. Still, I’m glad to have it in some form. I haven’t read your letter yet - some things happened that sent me off for a run.”

His left eyebrow rose. “And Miss Potter is alone in the house?” 

I frowned.

“My wards are impenetrable against uninvited guests,” I stated quickly. “The only exception being post birds and patroni. Anything that means us harm or could do harm to us is rejected. Violently. You can ask your Headmaster about it next time you see him.”

“So that would be your home that the Prophet wrote about and whom the unidentified wizard was,” he surmised.

“Yes, although I have to send Lucius Malfoy a thank you card for giving me a copy of the Daily Prophet now,” I agreed. “I had no idea about the article in Saturday’s edition let alone this morning’s since I don’t have a subscription to any wizarding paper.”

“Lucius is always quite eager to be on top of things,” Snape commented. “Perhaps you should rethink not having a subscription. Do you have an owl?”

“No. Everytime I consider going to Diagon Alley to get one, things happen to prevent it,” I complained. “I didn’t need one before. Now it seems like it’s a growing importance for both me and her. Is it alright for you to tell me what was in the letter since we’ve run into one another again or should I wait until I go home?”

“It was merely my sending you greetings and letting you know I had your ticket for Miss Potter. If you’ve read Lucius’ letter you will know the backstory.”

“Which I will also tell him thanks for when I send him a card.”

“And how is Miss Potter handling everything?”

“Well she was okay until we had an owl try and enter our property with items that were meant to harm her or me or both of us on Sunday. She had the misfortune of both hearing and seeing it be torn apart. Then there was some maniac attempting to illegally enter through apparition three times and then we felt the explosion ripple across the wards yesterday. Now she’s trying to decide if she wants to rejoin the wizarding world at all, much less attend Hogwarts. Since we didn’t sign any papers placing us under contract for her to attend, I can easily send Dumbledore a letter explaining Hadriana’s fear for her safety and my worry for her wellbeing trumps whatever family legacy of attendance to a boarding school there is. You’re free to pass that message along yourself if you see him anytime soon.”

He titled his head and then dipped it in a short nod. “I will do so. I am temporarily returning to Hogwarts for a few days and thus will no doubt run into the Headmaster. I shall let him know your words.”

My order number was called and I went to get it. Snape gently wrapped his hand around my wrist. My eyes widened and I looked at him in shock. He didn’t let go as he said, “I spoke of this in my letter but if you would be willing to stop by my home on Thursday around 5 o’clock I could give you the ticket.” His voice was gentle as he spoke and the contact alongside it was giving me butterflies. “A-Alright,” I agreed. His lips quirked into what might have been a smile but it was gone just as quickly. He released my wrist and then left Tuttle’s.

Chapter Text

I swore I could still feel Snape’s light touch on my wrist as I returned home. Later on I found my concentration shot because I kept imagining how it would have been if he’d also kissed my knuckles instead of holding my wrist and then letting go.

It was really frustrating to keep slipping back into that daydream while I was trying to actually work!

I almost screamed into one of my accent pillows, it was so maddening!

My inner fan girl was having a field day: gushing over his eyes, how the corner of his mouth twitched, and how he sounded while he spoke to me. Didn’t remotely seem to bother them I had studying I had to do and goals I was working towards.

I didn’t really need to actually sleep but I deemed a nap what I needed to clear my head.

I was wrong.

So very wrong.

Instead of helping me, I slipped into REM sleep and dreamed. Of beetle black eyes and a deep voice whispering things that triggered my until now very inactive hormones to run rampant.

I woke up in worse shape than I went to sleep in. Because now I was groggy and horny as opposed to just distracted.

The only other thing of note to happen for the rest of the day was another letter from Lord Nox. He mentioned the events spoken of this morning’s Daily Prophet and asked if I felt safe enough to leave my home for our first meeting. He said that if I did not feel as if it was a good idea as his contacts in the Ministry had confirmed that the attacker had been released and was therefore free to make a secondary attempt, that with my permission he would gladly come to me.

I will understand if you do not desire to leave the formidable confines of your property as this attack would make anyone nervous. Especially if the backlash of the explosion reported in the Prophet is to be believed. Therefore I shall gladly come to your home next week at your earliest convenience.

So that was a thing. My opportunity to focus on Hadriana’s and my own legal matters as a distraction against the temptation of Severus Tobias Snape has been put on hold until next week. I didn’t have the mind to ask if he could try and come for a home consultation on the day he had planned for me to go into his office and just told him to come by Tuesday the 13th around 10 am. I will admit I slightly dreaded the home visit more than the office one.

~OoOoOoOoOoO~

The next two days had me in a better mindset for most of the day. Because of the aforementioned lack of need to sleep, I could avoid further racy dreams and scenarios involving a certain Potions Master who would potentially become my teacher should I actually attend Hogwarts. I was on the fence to be honest. The sweet desire to stay home, absorb the knowledge I would need to pass my OWLs and NEWTs from books and then take those tests was looking very good to me. I knew this was my past life’s anxiety of leaving home showing up. Albus Duggledwarf’s fucking actions had apparently opened that door to mental illness you’d think wouldn’t exist in this life but hey! Here it is.

It was radio silence on the old fart’s end as he hadn’t sent any kind of communication to me since his failure at gaining access to my home. I doubt he’ll remain quiet for long. The man doesn’t give up when he sets his mind to something.

Of course his lack of communication could be because of the magical backlash his exploding patronus caused or he’s dealing with a bunch of pissed off Board of Governors members. 

Either way, the lack of anything from him was nice and I wished it would stay that way.

Because fuck that meddling fucker with a barbed wire baseball bat.

I did get a very interesting letter from King Steelrook ensuring I was doing well. I responded that I was processing the information shown on the inheritance test (which I very much was). I would possibly come in sometime next week - that was if I could avoid any further confrontations with overreaching old men. I confirmed I’d heard from the potential law wizard and once again thanked him and Grimhatch for their help.

He sent a very short letter telling me to stop thanking them since they were doing their duty and I was far too generous as it was.

And if a king of the Fair Folk tells you to stop doing something, you stop doing it.

~OoOoOoOoO~

Thursday the 8th was a beautiful day and I honestly was kind of cursing it for being so pretty. According to the wireless it was going to be picturesque all day with a slight overcast and breeze in the evening. Snape’s Verreaux's eagle was on my kitchen island when I walked in there, a letter from his master clutched in his beak.

“I’m supposed to wait for a response this time,” he told me in a gruff voice similar to Snape’s own as he handed it off.

“Alright then,” I agreed, a quick scan showing it was harmless. I may be crushing hard on the man but at least I’ve kept my senses about security.

Miss Radcliffe,

My business concluded last night and I have returned to my home at 10 Spinner’s End here in Cokeworth. If you are still agreeable to meeting with me this evening, please send a positive reply with Venadeal, my eagle, and I shall await your arrival at 5 pm. 

Severus Snape

Short and to the point with no underlying feel that would make my inner fangirl go off. Thank goodness. “Alright, Venadeal,” I say after closing the paper, “Am I saying that right?”

The eagle bounced his head up and down and I smiled. “Cool. Hang on while I write down my answer. Do you need a mouse or anything to eat?”

“No, thank you, Miss. I’m fine.”

Alright then. Penning my reply that he would see me at 5, I sealed it up and the large bird took it in his beak. He then took off and I was left to have breakfast and then spent the next few hours doing my daily tasks, making another in vain attempt to study my future school subjects, and then spent an hour and a half deciding on an outfit and hairstyle because my inner fangirl wouldn’t shut up about dressing pretty even for the briefest of visits.

“I’m not having dinner with the man, you cunt,” I snapped out loud while I sat at my vanity. I winced as I brushed out a tangle. “I’m just stopping by and picking up my ticket. I doubt he’s going to invite me inside!”

But the voice would not shut the fuck up. Thus I found myself dolled up more than I’ve ever been so far in this life on Severus Snape’s doorstep at 5 pm on the dot.

I felt ridiculous. I just hoped I didn’t look it as well.

Deep breath.

Kick my anxiety out of the way.

Ring the doorbell.

Don’t run.

Count to 15.

No response.

Ring bell again.

Kick the anxiety once more.

Count again to 15 slowly.

Yes, you are supposed to be here.

This is the correct house.

Stop it.

Okay, maybe the bell’s broken?

Knock then.

I was about to tap the door to the tune of ‘shave and a haircut’ when the door opened up to reveal tall, dark, and sneering deliciousness himself. 

Down, Bitch.

“Miss Radcliffe,” he greeted. “Won’t you come in?”

My fucking feet apparently had a mind of their own because I found myself moving forward and into his front hall before I could decline the offer. My eyes darted about, taking note of the lack of dank or dreariness. In fact the house had a warmth to it, nothing like the Half-Blood Prince described. Though the walls of the sitting room were bookshelves filled with books, the furniture within was not rickety or threadbare.  There was no air of neglect or a padded cell to be found.

It felt inviting of all things - something I wasn’t expecting. Imposing, maybe. But it was lovely and I think I fell a bit in love with it..

“Well if anyone accuses you of being not well read, I can vouch they’re lying,” I joked as I heard the door close behind me.

And now I’m alone with him.

In his house.

Great. My happiest dreams and worst nightmares all in one.

“It is a decent collection for a home this size,” he replied. “Though space constraints prohibit me from adding to it. Adding wizarding space to an existing muggle residence can be quite costly.” He walked in front of me, perching slightly against the back of the sofa facing the fireplace. HIs arms were crossed loosely in front of him. “If you feel the need one day to browse outside of the school year, I can be persuaded to share.”

“As bibliophilic as I want to claim I am, Professor Snape-”

“Severus, please. As of this moment we are merely two adults partaking in non-business conversation.”

This was bordering on surreal. Keep your cool, Charlotte.

“Alright then,” I conceded despite the tiny little warning voice in my head. “As tempting as your offer is, Severus, I have a feeling that my tastes aren’t as mature and robust as yours probably are. Despite my love of the written word, I don’t often find myself browsing the pages of a Tolstoy or Machiavelli. In fact you’ll find me reading very little heavier in atmosphere than is provided by the likes of Austen or Charlotte Bronte. Also I haven’t read anything by any wizarding authors. Or I should say, any decent non-textbooks by Wixxen authors.”

“I hear the books by Gilderoy Lockhart tend to be a grand read for those searching for adventure.”

“The man’s works should never have made it to the printing phase. He switches tenses at the drop of a hat, perspectives even faster, and none of the places he speaks of exist. Plus it’s just a solid wall of text. It’s impossible to remember where you last left off unless you’ve got a highlighter. So like I said: no decent non-textbooks.”

A corner of his mouth lifted and he half smiled. I’m done for. “It’s a good thing for the wizarding world that the two of you do not share a publisher and editor for I fear all hope would be lost then.”

Oh great - that mention again. I really have to freaking find out if that’s actually me or we just share a similar namesake. I visually tensed up at his statement, which I know damn well he saw. With the grace of a jungle cat, he got back to his feet and walked to the shelves. “My mother was a fan of your work,” he informed me. I watched pale fingers trail across the spines of one particular row as he searched for something. He found it as he continued, “They provided her some much needed reprieve during rough times.”

I swallowed down the knot in my throat. This was definitely not what I expected this meeting to turn out to be like.

The cascading sound of bells filled the air just as Snape turned to me with a hardbound book he’d taken from the shelf. “That would be the timer telling me my dinner is ready to eat,” he explained. “I made plenty if you would be so kind to join me.”

Chapter Text

I must be some kind of idiot sandwich.

A smart person would have declined the invitation.

A smart person would have never entered this house, knowing they’re very much attracted to a person who is a potential enemy. They’d have just told him to send them the ticket and never come over.

Me?

No. I’m so uncontrollably enamored with Severus Snape as played by Alan Rickman that I just lose all intelligence. Before I can even hesitate I found myself agreeing to have dinner with this man. A man potentially very firmly in Dumbledore’s pocket who is not only an accomplished, world renown Master of Potions but also a double fucking agent in not only the first wizarding but also the predicted second one!

 WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, CHARLOTTE?!

I follow him through the door hidden behind a bookshelf that leads into the kitchen. It, much like the sitting room earlier, was quite different to how I’d expected it to be. An eat-at island sat center stage, the kitchen a mix of white black and green colours. It was cozy and yet felt spacious despite the size of the place.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I said. I sounded so stupid. I swear a heard a low chuckle as he beckoned me to sit at one of the stools. “Wizarding space can be expensive but actual home improvements and renovations? Those are easily managed,” he explained. I looked at the food he’d made and instantly felt myself salivating. The man had a gorgeous lasagna on one of the side counters with a bowl of mixed salad greens and a cooling rack topped with fresh garlic toast on either side.

“You made all that and it’s just you?” I asked in disbelief.

“I will admit that I did make this in hopes that you might be tempted to join me for an impromptu dinner,” he confessed after a pause. “A last minute request seemed… better suited than an actual invitation to dine with me.” He made us both up a plate as he spoke. He placed it and some silverware down before going to his fridge. “Would you like some wine? I have a very well aged elf wine that pairs well with this.” He held up a bottle and two glasses.

Why the hell not? I’m apparently one for making poor impulsive decisions tonight. “Sure. I’m not much to imbibe but I’ll give it a go,” I accept. He poured out a glass and placed it in front of me. “I have some fizzing water in case you change your mind. You enjoy the peach flavour best, I’ve been told.”

“Yes.” Why the hell he would even remotely care to know that about me is baffling but I try not to let that show.

He was soon sitting across from me, his own filled plate in front of him. He held up his glass towards me. “To new beginnings,” he toasted. I clinked my goblet gently to his. “Salut,” was all I could think to say. 

Turns out that would not be the only time he would render me speechless this evening.

I was so caught up I almost forgot to quick check if my drink wasn’t right. It was perfectly fine. As was my food.

“Are you here often during the summer breaks?” I asked after a few minutes of silence passed with us enjoying our food. And god DAMN it was good.

“Every summer break since I began teaching,” Snape - Severus explained. “Though I consider Hogwarts my true home, this place remains close to me. In my youth I was desperate to stay away as much as possible. Cokeworth isn’t exactly posh by any stretch but it was far worse back when I was a lad. There were very few things that made it bearable.”

“Hadriana’s mother I suspect was one of those things,” I said. He nodded. No flinching, no unpleasant emotion response. Just a simple nod. “There was also a woman who’d moved close by around the time I was seven. She was the second witch I’d ever met - the first being my mother - and she was fascinating. Very talented in practical magics and she enjoyed burying rune stones around the city. It was how I found her: burying a purification rune near the bank of the river. She wanted to test on how it would affect the pollution levels on the riverside and ground surrounding it.”

That was definitely new. There’d never been any talk of another witch aside from Eileen Snape in Cokeworth.

But that sounded like a pretty cool idea she had. “And did her experiments bear positive results?” I asked. He smirked. “She never told me but the groundwater was certainly cleaner. She once joked about she, I, and Lilly taking a boat out to the middle of the river and dropping boulders in the middle to see if we could cleanse the entire thing. Unfortunately there was an incident not too long afterwards that had me moving away and so we never did.”

I visibly blinked at that information. There was never talk of any incidents that had him leaving Cokeworth in the books. Though I really should stop comparing everything to the novels.

“What happened to her - the witch?” I asked, taking a bite of salad.

He looked kind of sad for a moment. “She relocated somewhere else not too long after I moved. Lily often complained how lonely she was afterwards. Lucky for me my grandparents weren’t the blood purist type and allowed her to occasionally visit me.”

His grandparents?! Not his maternal ones? They’d disowned EIleen for marrying Tobias! No it had to be his maternal ones since he just flat out mentioned blood purity!

“So you moved in with your mother’s parents then?”

He nodded. “Kind people. Old fashioned  and strict but not in a way that would put a more modern minded individual off. I personally gathered that their disagreement and disowning of my mother came more from the fact my father liked to spend his days gambling and drinking and ending the evening’s entertainment either by sleeping with other women or giving my mum or me a slap around. She’d eloped with him despite never telling him heritage and refused to annul the marriage when confronted.”

I gave an uneasy exhale at this info dump. I couldn’t tell what was making me more nervous: The fact he was telling me all this and we were reasonably strangers or he was just giving me this information unhindered. This was not the man I knew that held all his cards to his chest and barely gave anything away. A man who only let his secrets out in his tears when he lay dying in the Shrieking Shack.

Don’t get me wrong: I loved learning this stuff. Any person with any kind of like for Severus Snape would. It’s just I didn’t know why he was being so open.

“That’s wonderful that despite their differences with your mother, your grandparents still made room for you in their lives,” I smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry that you had to deal with that kind of father. Some people should never be allowed to be near children, much less raise them.”

“Agreed.”

We spent a few moments in silence finishing our food before he spoke again. “The meeting between Dumbledore and the Board of Governors went well depending on whose side you are on. Hagrid will remain at Hogwarts as groundskeeper but his pay has been docked as punishment for his actions. On top of this he is being placed on notice that he will be terminated should any further incidents of poor behavior be reported.”

“I can’t tell if that was overly harsh or they went easy on him.”

“They had initially intended to fire him for the embarrassment. He failed to behave as was befitting a representative of Hogwarts on top of several other charges. However Dumbledore used his sway to talk them down. It was a close call but Hagrid remains at Hogwarts.”

“And no doubt he’ll grow to idolize Dumbledore more after this,” I comment.

“I have no doubt you are correct,” Severus agreed. “Though how much higher he can place the Headmaster on that pedestal, I do not know. He worships the man and feels like he owes him everything.”

I sighed sadly. I fear Hagrid was a lost cause then -  far too entrenched in Dumbledore’s web to ever make him see clearly.

“This troubles you.”

“Hagrid seemed to really care about Hadriana,” I explained. “Genuine affection. In another world, I’m sure he could have been a very good friend to her. But the blind devotion to Dumbledore coupled with such unquestioning fervor is far too dangerous. I’ve never personally met anyone who worshipped Voldemort,” I paused to see his reaction. He gave none. “But I’m certain Hagrid’s mindset for Dumbledore is on par with the most loyal of Death Eaters to him and will do nothing but hurt Hadriana in the long run.”

“You care a great deal for her.”

“As much if not more than myself.”

It was the truth - in its own weird way. I cared more about her reputation and attempting to have her body live the life she never would even when at times I would just prefer to hide away.

“Dumbledore has vowed Miss Potter is safe and will be boarding the train on September 1st.”

“Did he make that vow before or after you told him what I said at Tuttle’s when we ran into one another?” I asked.

“He’d decided not to speak with me prior to the inquest so he was quite disappointed when I relayed your message. Even more so when I was forced to relay your message to him… in front of the entire Board of Governors. His eyes lost their twinkle for a good minute. After the meeting  we reconvened in his office, where he did his best to vocalize his disappointments in many things.”

“He can learn to live with it. I think he’s forgotten people aren’t chess pieces and aren’t obligated to do as he claims because of his vision of ‘the Greater Good’.” I finally finished my glass of wine and asked, “May I have some of that fizzing water you mentioned?”

“Your wish is my command,” he agreed and soon I had a new glass with Peach Fizzing Water in it. I ran my finger idly around the rim, a subtle test performed to see if it was potioned. Once again it was clear but I kept touching the rim softly as I looked at Snape, who was refilling his own glass with wine.

“So after the probably long sermon bemoaning of things not happening as he wished,” I took a sip, “were you finally free or given orders to do something else?”

His lips quirked, this time unhidden, and he lifted an eyebrow. “I was told to deliver a ticket to Miss Potter and ensure it ended up directly in her hands,” he informed me. “I will not pretend you cannot imagine what it might actually be since he’d been insistent I hand it to your ward. Not you.”

Oh I can definitely guess what that thing was. I looked at the lean sallow skinned gentleman across from me with a soft frown. “Was Dumbledore aware I would be coming over tonight, Professor Snape?” I questioned.

“No, but he did suggest I somehow manage to arrange some kind of event where I could easily slip the ticket to Miss Potter. A friendly test to see how well she was versed in potions making or accompanying you both to another trip to diagon or even a muggle location to grab the remaining school supplies Hadriana had not gotten.”

Where at some point during the whole exchange, Hadriana would acquire the ticket. When she touched it, she would be port keyed somewhere I wasn’t meant to find her and then god knows what would happen.

“The old fart really has some real brass ones,” I muttered. “I’m really curious as to why you’re explaining all this to me. Slytherins usually keep their plans and secrets close to their chest in my experience. It’s not usually considered cunning to offer so much for free.”

“Not normally,” he agreed. He placed his glass to the side of his plate and leaned forward. “But I think we both can agree, you are not normal and deal better with the unvarnished truth.”

I nod slightly. “I do like to keep the bullshit in my life to a bare minimum,” I agreed. 

He gave a small smile. “So in the spirit of the truth and now that I’ve already offered so much information already, I would like to make a proposition.”

Okay, that was interesting.

“Tonight, after we finish our dinner, we go into my sitting room. We will then ask each other a question. I will even go so far as allowing you to ask two for every single one I have. No lies; no omitting facts. Just pure unadulterated honesty. Then, when the questions have ended three times with ‘I’m actually unable to answer that’, we quit for the night. And then later, we do this again.”

“This?”

“Dinner and then questions and answers. We can do it at your house or somewhere you feel comfortable.”

Wait a minute. Was he actually scheduling a way to spend time with me? After what he just told me Dumbledore had suggested?

“I can assure you, it is not for Dumbledore I make this proposal, Miss Radcliffe,” he said.

Not hiding an ounce of the confusion I have inside me, I looked at him. “Then why in the world would you want to make subsequent meet-ups with me? Let’s forget that you are taking it on faith I won’t lie to you since nothing in the food or drink had a verisatum inside it. I’m not that interesting a person to warrant your attention. Unless I’m like some new shiny mystery you have to unravel. Which, if that’s the case, you are quickly going to find yourself bored out of your mind.”

“You won’t find out why unless you accept my deal, Miss Radcliffe,” Snape said, taking another drink of his wine. “Though I will admit I find your lack of confidence in yourself sad.”

“That would be because I am sad. Sad, self-deprecating, boring, not very intellectually stimulating,” I wanted to say. Like I genuinely wanted to tell him that. But surprisingly I did not. Instead I took a few moments to mull over his offer before agreeing to his terms. I just hoped I could trust Severus Snape to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help me gods.

He actually gave me a smile. “Excellent. Now would you like seconds or would you care for the desert already? I made a tiramisu.”

This man is a menace.

Chapter Text

If you think I wasn’t having seconds of this glorious meal, well… you don’t know me very well now, do you?

I have a weakness for certain foods and Lasagna was one of them. With this one being so tasty, I damn well was going to have seconds. Especially since I was also trying to quiet my nerves and think of questions to ask Severus Snape. 

I didn’t want to make them too invasive but I also had things I wanted to know about him . This man who is named Severus Snape. Not the character I’d grown affection for from a book and movie series, but the man near me.

The very attractive flesh and blood man who looked like a young Alan Rickman.

I’m so boned. And not in the fun way.

Luckily eating kept me from saying anything but I would occasionally steal a few glances at him. I swear to the Powers, I could see behind that mask of his and he looked downright pleased.

Maybe there was something in that food, it’s kicking in and now I’m hallucinating.

Mind altering drugs that may or may not be in my food, I finished my second helping and then we took coffee and desert into the sitting room. The book he had brought out earlier rested on the coffee table, and I honestly couldn’t help but wonder what was in it. The cover was gold line art of potion bottles in the bottom corner of the elegant border with the title ‘The Potion Master & His Mistress’ and all I could think was, “If this book actually is by me, somebody better shoot me!” Because I know damn well exactly who I would model that damn main character after and it ain’t Horace Slughorn!

Severus handed me a cup of coffee with milk and a touch of sugar. I don’t normally drink coffee but if I do it with dessert, I do it with less sugar than a normal cup since the dessert will already be sweet. I learned that trick in my last life when I hit my forties and got diagnosed with diabetes. 

Poverty: it gives you gifts to last a lifetime that will also end your lifetime.

Once we both were settled in our seats - him not taking the chair close to the fire but sitting on the couch with me - I took a bite of the tiramisu and bit back a moan.

This man is a culinary menace in the best way.

“That’s really good,” I complimented. It was a hell of an understatement but I was growing nervous again.

“Thank you.” He sipped his coffee. “Do you wish to ask the first question or shall I?”

“I think I’d prefer you to, if you don’t mind.”

He gave a nod, placing his cup on the table beside him. He was quiet for a few, his eyes staring at me. I took small bites of my dessert to keep my mind from succumbing to my nervousness.

“We’ll start with a simple one,” he explained. Oh boy. “How long have you lived in Cokeworth?”

“A little less than 5 years,” I answered, still nervous but a little relieved he asked that instead of “what’s your name?”. I took another bite of my tiramisu - which was getting regretfully smaller and smaller - as I thought about my first question.

Let’s start with a dumb one. “So how old are you?”

“31. There are times where I feel much older.”

He’s so damn young. And he looks really good despite him definitely needing a bit of sun. But then again he’s naturally pale. “Kids will make you feel that way,” I said with a smile. But then I faltered. “Wars will too. It’s only been 10 years since the last Wizarding war.”

“Indeed.” He took a sip of his own coffee. “Your next question?”

“You were a Death Eater who turned double agent towards the end of the war?”

He nodded, his face not revealing anything. “And you? What were you doing during the war?”

“I don’t know. And that’s not a lie either, before you think I’m lying. I honestly have no memory of my actions or physical location. My current memory only extends to a few weeks before the attack on Godric’s Hollow. If you want more of an explanation than that, you best prepare yourself for a very very unbelievable story.”

He gave no reaction that I could see and I let out a sigh. “Still willing to continue on?” I questioned.

“I am.”

Unexpected but I won’t lie: it made me happy. I wanted to know if he was seeing anyone romantically, but my fear of the answer held me back. That part of me that was super attracted to him felt like it might shatter into pieces if he said he was courting. So instead I asked, “How old were you when you got your mastery?”

“19. I’d started it directly after graduating and finished early due to the amount of experience I gained brewing successfully during the war. How did you come into procuring custody of Miss Potter?”

I took a drink from my coffee. “Dumbledore placed her into the home of Lily Potter’s sister and her husband. They were horrifically abusive to her. They beat her, neglected her, refused to feed her. When she was six, she became sick. Very very sick.” I inhaled deeply, trying to think of a way to explain it so it sounded believable. But no. I made a promise of pure, unadulterated honesty with him and I’m not backing down. “When she became so sick she vomited, Vernon Durely then began to beat her to death before tossing her into the cupboard beneath the stairway, which had been her room since she was given to them.” His face revealed nothing but I watched Snape’s hand clamp down on his leg. I swallowed. Here we go. “She died and I took over.”

There. Now he knows. And I’m pretty sure he is not going to believe me.

“You took over,” he echoed.

Another steadying breath. “When I said I had no memories of my actions or physical location, I meant literally. I was a ghost with no physical presence until Hadriana Potter died. I’d been essentially only able to stand by and watch over her since a little before the Potters went into hiding. I don’t just have custody of Hadriana Potter. I am her. Or something to that effect.”

All the sound in the room seemed to have gone as I stared at Snape and he stared back at me.

Chapter Text

Things are very quiet.

And the air is heavy.

My inability to not fidget under pressure is rearing its ugly head in spades now. You’d think someone who’s lived as many lifetimes as I have would have some sort of control over that but no. I’m twisting my fingers together as I sit in Severus Snape’s living room, having him stare at me in silence after I just dropped the truth on him.

The man’s poker face is frightening with how much he reveals nothing. He’s just sitting there, looking at me. No reaction. Just… staring.

I’ve long stopped trying to look at him to get any sense of response. I feel too uncomfortable to do so. I want to leave the longer he sits there in silence but I really don’t want to at the same time? Honestly it’s a battle of inner torment at this point.

If it weren’t for the flames moving in the fireplace and the sounds from the outside world faintly being heard, I’d think time had stopped. 

“If you could say something right now, it would really help lower my anxiety and prevent me from giving into my urge to take off,” I say, breaking the silence.

He took a drink from his coffee and set the cut down on the table. “My apologies,” he said. “I was just enjoying the fact you finally were able to admit the truth.”

…

What?

I knew my confusion was on my face because despite my many life times, my ability to hide my emotions on my face has never been something I have succeeded with.

"You should open that book," Snape said and I swear the corner of the man's lips are fighting to stay down. I warily look at him while I pick up the book off the coffee table.

"Turn to 394," he said as I opened the cover and flipped a couple of pages. I stopped, scrunching my face up before looking at him again. "This is the Orb thing from Gringotts all over again. I can feel it," I muttered. I turn to page 394 - which for the record the book's story isn't apparently really that long to warrant a page 394 because after a while we get a bunch of blank pages.

I look at the hollowed out area before looking at him. Then I look back at what is contained inside that space. Then I look back up at Snape.

"Is this a DVD?"

He gave a nod of his head. “I believe that is what you called it. Though you did go on a small tangent about a VHS tape being more appropriate a media method in this time period but ultimately decided to go with what was used previously. You said, ‘I won’t fix what’s not broken so I’ll use a DVD.’ I’ve come to realize your inability to hold your tongue won’t change no matter what point of time I know you.”

My expression twists into one of horror and surprise. “So how much of what’s going on do you know? How long have you known?!” I feel a very bad anxiety attack coming on and he seems to sense it. Like a bullet he’s kneeling in front of me, holding my shoulders firmly but not enough to hurt.

“Charlotte.” The utterance of my name - not Hadriana, not the Daniella pseudonym, but my name from my past life had me jumping to focus. “I have not been made privy to everything that is going on on will happen but you did tell me of a few things. But I’ve been instructed not to confess them until you watch the disc.”

And now I’m irritated. “And did my potential future self - who I am beginning to hate for not leaving me better clues - provide you/me with the ability to watch this DVD or am I supposed to bring one into reality?”

“As a matter a fact you did,” he confirmed. He pointed over his shoulder at the large painting above his fireplace. I stared at it for a few seconds, then at Snape, and then back at the work of art in a bronze coloured frame.

“Snape-”

“Severus.”

“Snape,” I can’t call him by his first name right now, “did I really give you a flatscreen tv and disguise it as a picture?”

“You told me you wouldn’t have a television at this point in your timeline and it was probably best if you left one here with me to watch the disc on. You said you’d just put off watching it if I let you leave with the DVD to go home.”

I’d probably do worse than that, knowing how freaked out I was getting. I realize I could potentially cause harm if I do it but I had no problem making myself a nice closed off pocket dimension and staying there. Whatever thing I’ve done in this timeline can’t be undone but that doesn’t mean I have to repeat the same actions as my potential future self.

I got the disc out of the book and held it out to him. He shook his head as he stepped backwards. “This is for you to handle. I am merely the delivery man until you’ve watched the contents. Alone.”

“You’re not going to watch it with me?” I asked. 

“Perhaps at a later time if you wish to allow me once you’ve done so yourself. I believe right now it’s best you witness the contents first,” he explained. “I will be in the kitchen.”

“I might leave afterwards,” I warned him.

“Doubtful.” He handed me the remote control he’d gotten from I don’t know where and left the room.

And thus I was alone. In Severus Snape’s living room. To watch a dvd on a flatscreen tv which shouldn’t have existed until at least the mid-2000s - 2010s. Does the time when this tv should exist matter in the grand scheme of things? No, but I’m having a bit of an anxiety attack right now and I’m trying to grab something to help me focus!

Putting the remote down on the table, I went to the tv with the disc. If I created this thing then I was pretty damn sure I knew how it worked.

And I was right. The disc slot was on the side hidden behind the frame. With the familiar hum and whir of the tv ingesting the disc, I returned to the sofa. The screen powered on with a chime and soon I was watching a DVD I made and gave to Severus Snape to give to me. 

God that makes my head spin.

First observations? Well I didn’t look much different in the video as I do as an adult. At least I hope that’s a true adult form I’m wearing because there is no way I’m doing anything that would get me to get me to hand Snape a DVD and TV set level for years. If ever.

“Check 1, 2, 3… Hopefully this is working. Hello me of the past. This is you of the future, possibly an alternate universe depending on how things work out,” the me on the screen says.

Okay. So awkward me is still awkward.

“So I gave Severus this DVD in order to help you out because God knows you have questions! And boy… do you have some messes ahead of you that you need to be aware of!” She sighed and looked at the camera with a look that was nervously apologetic. “I honestly don’t know how to start,” she said. She sighed. “You’d think we’d be better at this the more we do it and the older we get. But no. No, we are eternally awkward.” I had to agree with that.

She looked slightly off camera at something, took a moment, and then straightened up. “We’ll start from the beginning. And by beginning, I mean what I did from watching my own DVD that my future self left for me. I hope you got some water because you’re going to need to hydrate.”

…

I’d like to let you all witness what was told, but then you’d pretty much know everything that is possibly going to happen. If you knew what would happen, why would you stick around?

So I’m not going to tell you.

Mostly because my head hurts after everything and I literally had to stop time outside the living room in order to watch the whole DVD after the first 30 minutes passed and the Me on the DVD said, “I forgot to tell you. You might want to isolate time so that doesn’t pass outside the room you are watching this in.”

It turns out it was a very very long DVD.

I really don’t want to tell you guys what she told me.

Please just stick by and watch this all unfold because I’m going to cry if you make me reveal to you what I was told.

Chapter Text

After the powerful - and quite frankly overwhelming info dump, I wandered into the kitchen where Severus was at the counter. He stared at my dazed form before speaking.

"I take it the events told to you were enlightening?" He held up a silver old fashioned coffee pot. "I've made hot chocolate. Would you like whip cream?"

"Yes, please."

I sat in the seat I'd taken earlier for dinner, feeling both detached and yet as if a live wire was running under my skin.

"I sensed the casting of your magic twice while you were in the sitting room."

"Yeah, that video is long and if you do watch it you better have a lot of time to spare." He set a mug in front of me and then sat across from me, his own in front of him. He nodded. "I shall endeavor to do so, if I feel like prying."

We sit in silence a few moments and I take a gentle sip of the hot cocoa. I look at the counter in front of me. There had been so damn much told to me. "I will be very busy for the next decade or so," I say out loud. "And very depressed more than once, it seems."

"You won't be alone while you are working through those times," he said firmly and it sounded like a promise. "The others and I will be there."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded.

"Did I tell you when I recorded that DVD?"

He titled his head as he thought. "No," he answered. "Merely handed it to me after setting up the television player and told me to give this to you when we had dinner next time."

I pressed my lips together. "She or I rather, didn't really say much on that subject but I was wondering-"

"Were we involved?" he finished. Oh god he's smirking! "No. Though I did desperately wish to be."

Then whenever I recorded that thing was definitely not in the past when I will be visiting him. It has to be a moment in the future or their present. "There's no guarantee I'll be able to do everything that version of me did. I don't know if I can complete the loop fully. You understand that?"

"I have faith in you."

"No, I mean to say that because there was something on the DVD that I need to tell you I saw and I don't know how you'll react to it."

He looked at me, eyes intent.

I exhaled long and hard. “It appears that the DVD was recorded sometime in the future and I mean 2000-something era. It wasn’t recorded in the time period you resided and then given to you. I say that because I’m 95 percent sure we or you and she had a kid. A son by the looks of it.” He was silent as the room filled with the previous nervousness on my end. “It doesn’t have to happen if you don’t want it to,” I quickly assure him. “That’s one of those loops that I can change.”

“Why would you think I would wish to change having a child with you?”

I stared at him. Is this really happening?! “Because you don’t really know me as I am now. And I don’t really know you. I know Severus Snape from the books and films. And despite what my inner fangirl swoons and daydreams, let’s be a little real here. You, as a person, are very accomplished and intelligent. You take away my phenomenal cosmic powers, you’re talking to a woman who last time barely got a General Education Diploma whose greatest accomplishment was -” I stopped to think. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I had any accomplishments aside from getting the GED. Discovering that Sushi Ginger pairs excellently with Bologna sandwiches isn’t exactly award winning.”

“Charlotte?”

I look at him.

“You’re rambling,” he stated with a small smile.

“Right.” I sighed again, running my hands over my face. “It’s very hard for me to believe that we could have any sort of romantic relationship.”

“You doubt your own desirability.”

I still wasn’t looking at him as I agreed. “I’m not someone who is able to attain and keep romantic love. I’ve not even been able to enjoy the kind of heart racing, toe curling feelings outside of fantasies. I have a history of not being someone people want. Or if they do they don’t want me specifically. I still have dreams where I think I’m going to be with someone and they turn their attention to someone else.” I stopped, realizing what I was doing. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear that.”

He stared at me and all I can think of is, ‘can this man’s gaze be anything other than intense?’ 90 percent sure the answer is no.

“Anyways,” I continued, “just because something has been done by me in the future doesn’t mean I need to do it. I can make another choice. I just wanted to let you know what was shown to me and the son was the most obvious example of it all. Honestly I feel a little angry she kept that in.”

“Explain.”

I gave him a look. “I’ve already explained why.”

“No, you have given me a listing of your feelings about yourself. Why do you think I wouldn’t want to be with you? You merely assume I would not be willing.”

“Yes, because of my history that I’ve told you. For all I know what my inner fangirl was squealing about was perceived flirtations. I honestly cannot fathom you actually being attracted to me!”

“Would it frighten you if I admit I am?”

“More like it would confuse me. I already told you earlier what I know of you. Any accomplishments I am perceived to have right now of this time aren’t mine. I don’t even know half of what I’ve written under the pseudonym of Daniella Radcliffe except for a series of books to help acclimate Muggle born and raised children easier into the Wizarding World so they’re not left ignorant. A bunch of romance books that sell pretty well apparently.”

He stood up and walked over to me. “Come with me for a moment,” he said.

I let him take my hand and lead me upstairs to the bathroom. Standing me in front of the mirror above the sink, he went behind me. His hands rested on my shoulders and I felt my heart speed up at how close he was. “Look at the mirror.”

I did as he commanded.

“I want you to look at the woman that you are. The woman you will be. Ignore the fact this is merely you aged up so you can navigate the world. Look at you in the mirror.”

His hand slid under my chin and softly held my face forward while I could feel him standing at my back. His other hand rested at my waist. “I won’t ask you what you see because right now you are blinded by the hurt from your past. You can’t see what I and others see. You can’t see the beautiful woman in front of you. The woman who invokes desire with her laughter and wit that has been grown through life experience and not just study. An eye with the glow of a sapphire while the other shines like an emerald; both flash with the energy of magic itself when she gets angered. You don’t know how intoxicating your magic feels and you can’t even fathom how much I’ve wanted to kiss you since you opened the door that day when you had us come to your house to discuss your attendance to Hogwarts. Every letter I’ve penned to you, I’ve barely held back to confessing everything. How it took every ounce of self control I had not to kiss your hand that day after we talked at Tuttle’s.” His hand moved from my chin to push some hair behind my ear, his lips ghosting the shell. “And right now, at this moment, I want to kiss you until you are breathless and then have you in my bed until there is not a single trace of doubt left in that infuriatingly creative mind of yours that I want to be with you.”

…

CharlotteBrain.exe has stopped working

...

I was so caught up in his words that I didn’t notice when he led me out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. Sat me down and refilled my mug with hot chocolate and cut me another portion of tiramisu. He fed me a bite and my brain rebooted up as I was chewing.

“Well you definitely rid me of my doubts now,” I admitted.

And Severus Snape laughed.

Chapter Text

After the evening where my insides had become jelly thanks to Severus Snape, I had thought I was free to get through what I needed to until Tuesday. Four days of (hopefully) uninterrupted peace and solitude.

Freedom to read some of the wizarding world’s worst literary installments alongside the Muggle Born guide book series. Freedom to process the fact I was lusted after by Severus Snape of all people.

I was wrong.

On Saturday morning, I received a letter from Narcissa Malfoy inviting me to tea on Sunday afternoon.

It’s been a couple of lifetimes since I’ve had a proper tea meeting with someone of Narcissa Malfoy’s societal standing. Pretty sure I was going to be insufferably rusty and make more than one faux pa.

Unfortunately I have the bad habit of gravitating and hanging around people who are nice to me - even if I’ve read what kind of horrible individuals that they’re supposed to be. You’d think I would know better given how many lives I’ve lived.

Yet here I am, standing in their front foyer, about to partake in a time honored social tradition.

With Narcissa Malfoy.

Who I am apparently on a first name basis with.

At Malfoy Manor.

The house which everyone who read the books or watched the films knows is where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were imprisoned and tortured.

…

What the fork have I gotten myself into?

Similar anxiety to what I felt standing on the front step of Spinner’s End on Thursday filled me and I started debating hard if I should leave. Either by luck or lack of it, a house elf wearing a clean and well kept outfit popped in and curtsied. “Lady Malfoy be out on the garden overlook, Ma’am,” it informed me. Then it popped off, leaving me alone.

Great. 

Perfect.

I know where she is but not where to go and how to get there.

For some reason unknown to me, instead of summoning a wisp that would lead me to where Narcissa is, I decided to try and find my way there.

Which is how I became very lost. I could have sworn I was taking a path that would lead me to the rear of the Manor. I made the assumption that ‘Garden Overlook’ involved placement in the rear of the building. Unfortunately this is a large domicile with a lot of rooms.

And sometimes I have a very bad sense of direction.

I would have asked some of the portraits for directions but they were all either non-sentient-slash-unmoving or they were empty. So I had no help.

I just remembered I didn’t want to call forth a tracking wisp because I didn’t feel right casting magic in another person’s house without their permission. Under normal peaceful conditions - like now - that’s just rude.

I somehow found myself inside a gallery. Portraits of various Malfoy ancestors hung on the wall, blond heads of painted hair as far as the eye could see.  As is my particular problem when I’m in a new place: I became distracted. Especially when I found the portrait of young Abraxas Malfoy.

Fuck me: it’s David Bowie.

I’m not kidding either. Abraxas Malfoy was the spitting image of Ziggy Stardust himself with the only difference between them a lack of the one permanently blown out pupil and no heterochromia. Dressed in Regency England era finery, lounging in a large padded armchair, snake headed cane on his lap, with all the magnificence air of Jareth from Labyrinth.

His hair was the same colour of spun white gold that Lucius had, cut short in the back and sides.

His eyes were a dark green that reminded me of a pine tree at its most vibrant.

“Impressive, wasn’t he?”

I was so surprised at the voice that broke through my focus that I nearly pissed myself.

I whirled around to look at Lucius Malfoy, who reached out softly with a startled expression. “Oh, my apologies for scaring you, Miss Radcliffe!” he declared, a gentle touch on my arm. “I did not know you were so engrossed!”

I shook my head and swallowed, my hands clutching my chest as I got my breathing under control. “No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m afraid I got severely lost trying to find where the Garden Overlook is and found myself here. Forgive my wandering.”

“It’s fine. You’re more than welcome to wander about my home,” he assured me. He seemed convinced I was fine and withdrew his hands. I smiled at him and then looked back at the picture. We stood in silence together for a moment. “This was painted when he was in his early twenties,” Lucius explained. “He’d commissioned it as a present for my mother in honor of their engagement - one of the few times he allowed himself to be presented in this type of medium. You can tell by the length of his hair this was done before my grandfather’s passing. The Malfoy men only allow their hair to grow long once we’ve acquired the Lordship. Tradition.” He leaned a little close to me as if sharing a secret.

“Good to know young Draco won’t be showing off his own lengthy flowing locks for many long years then,” I commented, not helping the smile on my face from forming.

“Indeed. Though the hair pomade bill will be quite ghastly if he continues at the same rate he’s been going,” the wizard responded and I couldn’t help but snort. Which I quickly apologized for.

Lord Malfoy didn’t seem offended at my slip. He seemed rather amused.

“The portrait is impressive but I was more entranced at the fact he looked like a very famous actor-slash-musician from the non-magical world.”

I half expected him to get angry at my words. I mean, I’m comparing his father to a muggle after all. But Lucius Malfoy doesn’t appear to get upset.

“Which one?” he questions curiously and I look at him.

“David Bowie.”

Malfoy nodded. “Popular fellow?”

This time I nodded. “Played in one of my favorite films as the male lead.”

The man’s expression showed a calm look of approval mixed with surprise and we spent a few minutes more in companionable silence. I almost forgot what I was there for. Almost. “Lord Malfoy-”

“Lucius.”

Oh lord, not him too.

“Lucius, would you mind escorting me to the Garden Overlook where your wife is waiting for me? I’m afraid I’m late.”

“It will be my pleasure,” he replied, offering his arm to me. “I know Narcissa has been very eager to renew these visits of yours.”

I flashed him a nervous smile as he led me to my destination. As we walked, I took note of his attire. “You look like you’re about to go horseback riding,” I said.

“I am. On pleasant days such as this one, Draco and I take a tour of the grounds on the horses we have at the stables. He’s been quite enthusiastic about it since he graduated to a full size mount early this year. I will admit that I shall miss these times of ours once he begins attendance.”

“You suddenly make me wish I’d done that with Hadriana a few times,” I said before I realized what I’d just said. Really, Charlotte? How would that have worked? You just learned how to clone yourself via Naruto ninja moves about a month ago!

“Perhaps during the holidays, we can work out a time for the pair of you to visit and ride with us,” he offered. “The grounds in winter are especially… enchanting at that time. And I have no doubt you would make quite a vision atop one of our thoroughbreds.”

Okay, why did that sound kind of flirty?

“As I haven’t been on a horse in years, I think you’ll find me rather rusty,” I said, shaking off my thought. I think I’m still suffering from Severus’ confession. Has to be it. Everytime anyone’s voice goes the slightest bit deep, I’m now doomed to think they’re flirting.

We made it outside where Narcissa was seated. “I found her, Darling,” he announced cheerfully. Narcissa got to her feet and smiled as I let go of Lucius’ arm. “Thank goodness! I was getting worried you’d been spirited away!” She took my hands and air kissed my cheek. “I believe this was my fault! I’d forgotten how long it’s been since you were here and did not give the elves instructions to lead you here.”

“She was in the Heirship Gallery,” Lucius explained.

“Ah! That explains it. You always did enjoy admiring the works there. Lucius, you might wish to go join our son before he decides to start riding Esper on his own.”

“It’s either a broom or a horse with him,” the man mused with a fond expression. He kissed Narcissa’s cheek with a smile. “My love.” He then extended his hand out to me and I allowed him to take my own. “Miss Radcliffe.” He air kissed my knuckles, lingering for more than I think is the norm.

He let me go and bowed to us.Then I was left alone with Narcissa Malfoy.

“I’m very pleased you were able to accept my invite,” she said as she filled my cup. “Is it still three sugars and milk?”

I blinked but nodded. “Yes.” How the hell did she know?

“Good.” I received the porcelain cup with a small smile. I’m not going to lie: I was still freaking out but Narcissa was so… not like she was in the books. She wasn’t acting cold and definitely didn’t look as if she was dealing with the constant smell of something foul under her nose. She also didn’t feel as if she was putting on an act either. It felt like she was being legitimately friendly but at the same time retaining a tiny touch of distance between us.

Like I was a close friend who hadn’t been in contact for forever and she felt so happy to see me but wasn’t sure if I would be comfortable with no barriers between us.

If I wasn’t feeling guilty, then I would have been very happy to receive this welcome.

“I know how busy you are, especially getting Hadriana ready for her first year at Hogwarts but I read those articles in the Prophet and felt the need to see how you were doing,” Narcissa explained. “I’d promised myself to give you more time before an invitation to tea but when Lucius showed me the papers, I couldn’t help myself. I felt like this was the better alternative than to just appear at your home without warning. Cucumber sandwich?”

I nodded. “Yes, thank you.” I took a sip of my tea. “I think your invite was the more brilliant idea of the two,” I stated. “I’m not exactly eager to see people show up to my home right now. Hadriana is concerned for her safety. As am I.”

“She is aware of how highly regarded she is in the magical world?”

“I never hid the truth of her past from her once I gained custody, but I think up until the trip to Diagon Alley and the events of that evening with Hagrid she thought it was embellishments and fairy stories. Now she’s gotten a glimpse of what the magical world could give her and she’s both excited and terrified.”

“How long has it been since you took her in?”

“You said it’s been seven years since we last had contact?”

Narcissa nodded. “So a little less than two years after that, give or take,” I answered.

“How has parenthood treated you?”

I couldn’t help my mouth twitch into a smile. “About the same rate as single life did.” I took a sip of my tea. “Hadriana is as much of an introvert as I am, so our tastes in activities run equal. Usually she’s very quiet and plays video games or reads books.”

“Video games?”

“A popular activity in the non-magical world. Hard to explain.”

“They’re speaking of bringing in a few magically enabled muggle computers over at the Wizarding Library in London. Are video games related to those?”

“They’re on the same avenue, yes,” I confirmed. “You can play them on computers as well as the  boxes built specifically to play them when combined with a television set. The library in London is actually getting computers installed on the magical side?”

“I see you stayed true to your word,” Narcissa mused, a slight touch of disappointment in her tone. “You really did cut yourself off from the magical world, didn’t you?”

“I had my reasons.” I found myself frowning.

“My disappointment was not aimed at you, Darling,” she was quick to assure me. “My disappointment lies in the fact that you had to cut yourself off at all. You warned the public at large for decades what was going to happen if we kept ourselves cut off and ignorant from the goings on of the Muggle world while at the same time leaving the Muggleborns ignorant of traditions and culture. What was it you said? ‘If we are lucky, we find them at age eleven. If we are even luckier those ones we find are cared for and loved despite the fact that no one can help them and they have to deal with it. Yet even when we teach them, they are left bobbing in the ocean with no support should the worst come to pass. They are brought into a world they have no idea of, at the beginning of puberty and expected to be alright. And we expect not just these children to suddenly adapt but their families to understand. Families that more often than not are religious and believe that their child might be possessed by devils and demons. We send people to deal with problems but refuse to make strides to prevent the problems from happening.  We have one prison in the whole of the Magical UK where a man who stole to feed himself or his family gets the same treatment as one who murdered innocents in cold blood.’ It was a very long speech with quite a lot more in it but you had a point. I think it was a year after you left, that the Wizamagot finally passed the Understanding Initiative you’d worked so hard for. Though I believe they are still dragging their heels on putting it into action. The computers were meant to be installed last year in the spring and two years prior were meant to have magically educated Squibs installed in many of the more at risk areas to help minimize exposure.”

“Like the train stations?”

“Exactly. Unfortunately we still have some families who cut off their members that were born without, so the lack of in the know Squbs is very low. Add in the losses from war, the massive chaos after You Know Who’s death, steadfast resistance to any kind of change and there you are.”

A stagnating Ministry and ruling body.

A private sector that can do only so much without pissing people off.

Charities that have to pick up the slack where the government fails.

I took a bite out of a finger sandwich as I felt myself get frustrated.

“Oh, the boys seemed to be circling this way on the horses!” 

I looked up and in the direction Narcissa was and spotted three figures coming this way. I recognized Lucius from the colours of his attire that I’d seen earlier. The smallest of the three coming our way was Draco, in a dark green waistcoat and pale jodhpurs. But I couldn’t really tell who the other man was. All I could tell was he wore black riding pants, a black riding coat and had dark hair.

They were about ten feet away when I realized the mystery man was Severus Snape.

I don’t know how many of you watched the Sense and Sensibility movie from 1995 so I’m going to just treat you like you did to save time. (By the way if you haven’t seen it go do so or google Alan Rickman Colonel Brandon and drool!) As if seeing him in his natural state as Severus Snape, Potions Master, was not knee wobbling enough. Now I’m staring at him looking like a version of Col. Christopher Brandon, who happens to be my favorite forking male character by Jane Austen. It’s only been a few days after he reduced me to gourd damned jelly in his bathroom!

Somebody is trying to kill me.

They may have succeeded if Severus had been wearing the top hat.

“Hello, Gentlemen,” Narcissa greeted the three riders as they sidled up to us. “Don’t you three make a stunning visage.”

The three males bowed from their seats atop their mounts, Draco struggling a touch. My guess is he hasn’t practised it very much.

I nodded my head in their direction, my inner-self screaming due to a fresh dose of exposure to the handsome person I am attracted to.

“Would you gentlemen care to join us for a cup of tea?”

What?

Oh please, no.

“Draco and I must decline, Cissa,” Lucius replied. “Draco wishes to attempt some jumps and the weather and grounds seem like they’re agreeable. Severus however can sit a spell if he so desires.”

Snape gave a nod in consent. “If Miss Radcliffe is amenable to it,” he added.

“By all means,” I motioned to the chair at the side of the table. I really hope my expression didn’t show I was nervous - though knowing me, it did.

Soon the two Malfoys were out of sight and it was just me, Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape having tea.

“Those riding clothes truly suit you, Severus,” Narcissa complimented. “I’m glad to see you wearing them.”

“I found myself pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I am in them,” he admitted. “Though I don’t believe I shall get much use out of them, I find I am appreciative of the gift.”

“It’s just a shame Draco finds so much amusement with the hat that you can’t wear it.”

Wait, there was a hat?

“Indeed.” He took a sip of his drink while I double checked myself to make sure he was answering Narcissa and not me voicing my thoughts out loud. “Do you ride, Miss Radcliffe?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been riding in a long time. And you and I both know there’s hardly anywhere in Cokeworth a person could rent a couple of horses.”

“True. Cokeworth does lack amusement. However it has improved over what it was like when I was growing up.”

“I find that to be an expected effect when dealing with the passage of time,” I said. “Either things improve or they worsen. Change is inevitable. Though many fight against it, it is always coming.”

“And more often than not necessary,” Narcissa added. I nodded. “The Wixxen World is an example. We need to change to adapt to the future problems muggle technology could and will bring but we also need to change it so the new wixx entering society are taught the important traditions that they’ve inherited as part of their gift of magic.”

“I agree.” Severus took a bite from one of the finger sandwiches. “There’s still no Wixxen Studies class despite every year I hear at least half a dozen muggle born wonder about why there isn’t one.”

“At least they’re interested in learning about the cultural differences,” I sighed. “It’s good they’re trying to reach out and bridge the gap. Let me guess: Budgeting concerns are the reason the Headmaster doesn’t set one up.”

“That and he stands by his claim that it’s unnecessary for children to learn about the traditions. If they’re desperate enough to learn about them, they can ask a school mate whose family follows the Old Ways or look up information in the library. But how does a student know who belongs to a family that celebrates the Old Ways? The ones who do aren’t going to broadcast that they do belong and you have to either know someone who knows a family or you end up alienating your classmates by asking around.”

“How well versed is Miss Potter in the traditions, may I ask?”

“She knows as much about them as I do. But being just the two of us, there hasn’t been much in the way of practising them. It’s easier to follow the Muggle traditions right now but I still will burn a Yule log or leave food for the dead on the appropriate nights. There’s some thoughts on her leaving offerings for the House Elves since she knows the etiquette for dealing with them. Which is more than I can say for most.”

“Well the ones who don’t read their copies of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them at any rate,” Snape spoke into his tea cup.

“Or come from the families who employ house elves but don’t subscribe to proven benefits of their care,” Narcissa added. “Which I’m sorry to say there are a few of them. Which reminds me that I must at some point check on Kreacher, the Black Family elf. He’s essentially bound to the family home and with no one living there right now, I worry for him.”

“Are you able to visit the ancestral house in London?” I questioned. “I’d assumed with Walburga’s death it was shut tight and only those with the blood from the main branch could open it.”

“That is partially true. The house is most certainly sealed tight against visitors, but it could be opened by the Heir. However I believe the current recognized Heir is Miss Potter.”

I stared at her. “I thought the Black Heirship went down a paternal line and would go to Draco.”

“Unless a Lord hasn’t chosen his Heir or dies without choosing, the next in line would go down the paternal side. But I believe Cousin Sirius must have named Hadriana Potter as his heir before his incarceration.”

“Which makes his supposed betrayal even more bewildering,” Severus mused. I looked at him, surprised. I gave a tilt of my head. “You sound as if you don’t believe he actually did what he’s been accused of,” I observed.

“My history with Sirius Black is complicated and too heavy a conversation to have on such a good day with good company and a fine tea service, Miss Radcliffe,” he stated.

I took that as my cue to leave the subject alone. Though it’s damn well going to drive me crazy. The subject changed to safer waters, namely Hogwarts and how Draco was prepared for it coming from a family who had attended it before versus Hadriana.

No. Get that thought out of your head that it was some kind of “oh see how much better off my son is compared to your daughter” conversation. It was actually a very comfortable chat about the dress uniform issues and the frustration I had.

Narcissa Malfoy is extremely easy to speak to despite the fact she seemed so off putting in the books. I’m praying this isn’t some cunning trick, because I am genuinely enjoying being around her.

“She’ll be covered at the very least. I have a catalogue of apparel she can get the clothes from so she won’t have to worry about clothing. But what if I didn’t have that? What if she was stuck with only so many items but she didn’t know what was appropriate?”

“What kind of clothing does she usually wear?”

I thought about that for a moment. What kinds of clothes do I fancy? “Cotton and cotton-blend leggings. Themed t-shirts. She also fancies dresses with leggings if we have to go out. I think she just doesn’t like wearing things that feel like they constrict her legs. And most trousers have the tendency to do that. Even a good flared leg feels wrong. Strangely though she’s okay with wearing tights. That reminds me,” I looked at Severus, “do certain fabrics have negative reactions to potion fumes?”

He thought for a moment. “Pure cotton, most types of leather, and dragonhide work best if you wear them when dealing with potions. I’d advise Miss Potter to dress accordingly on days she has potions. Given how the muggle t-shirts are a poly-blend or pure polyester, the fibers tend to deteriorate when exposed to large quantities of the fumes. It’s one of the few instances when muggle made items react poorly to magic. Now if you get her a thick work pinafore it will mitigate the deterioration to a degree but ultimately she will be having to replace whatever item of clothing she wore around them.”

“I suppose it would be too much to think all materials worked in harmony together,” Narcissa sighed. “Seems a lot like people. Most of them mesh well together but sometimes they are utterly incompatible. I should order Draco a work pinafore specifically for both Potions and Herbology. He needs something better fitted than the standard ones Hogwarts provides.”

“Ask a silly question time,” I spoke. “Where would I get one of those?”

“There’s a tailor who specializes in attire for wizards and witches who work in the more physically taxing fields. His headquarters are in Carkitt Market. Ricardo’s Wear For The Hard Working Wizard. I have heard people who work at the animal sanctuary in Rainbow Alley get their work-clothes from there.”

“I prefer the students to wear the work pinafore instead of robes in my class,” Severus informed me. “The students often forget to pin the sleeves up and risk catching themselves on fire. Or if they remove them before they brew, they lose protection in case of an accident. My advice? Get Miss Potter two pinafores in case she wants to let a classmate borrow her main one as well as some goggles to protect her eyes. Also purchase her a second pair of dragonhide gloves in case something happens to the first set. She’ll be better prepared than most of the other students who come from non-wixx households.”

“Why isn’t any of this on the supplies list? Besides the fact obviously Dumbledore.”

“Because he claims it will cost too much if the school supplies them. And, he says, if they come from the non-wixxen world, they’re already overwhelmed learning and purchasing everything that to add more would be unfair.”

I looked at Snape very intensely. “You’ve added those on the list for years and he’s said no every time, haven’t you?”

“Indeed.”

I couldn’t help it: I scrunch my face up in frustration because it is massive. I think I might have face-palmed too. “Careful, Darling. I don’t think your face will freeze like that but if you do it too often the lines will set,” Narcissa said. “Here’s what I will do. You owl me Hadriana’s measurements and I’ll order her pinafores for you. Once they come in, I can give them to Severus and he can deliver them to you. Is that acceptable, Severus?”

He gave a nod while I looked at Narcissa in shock. “Lady Malfoy-”

“Narcissa.”

“Narcissa, I really can’t ask you to do that.”

“Nonsense, Darling, it’s no imposition,” she assured me, patting my arm. “Consider it as both a present and my way of helping out. Anyone worth their salt would do the same. I merely wish I could do more. Seeing how frustrated you are on this matter makes me concerned for other guardians who are sending their progeny to Hogwarts unprepared.”

“Perhaps you could write a new book in your guide series,” Severus drawled.

I found myself unable to stop from smiling. “The Muggle Born and Raised Guide to Getting Ready for Hogwarts: Things You Need to Know But They Won’t Tell You,” I announced.

“A work in progress title at least,” Snape stated as he took in a drink of his tea. I sent a playful glare his way. “Still, it’s more than anyone else can do for the children joining our world. And your Guide series has been an essential help for generations. I know from personal experience one person who benefitted from them.”

No way.

“Who?”

“Miss Potter's mother, Lily.”

Chapter Text

Being a time traveler who finds out their going to do certain things, make events happen, etc but you haven’t done them yet and no one will tell you how you did it specifically is like waiting for the next chapter of a fanfic to be written or the next episode of a show which hasn’t been broadcasted before.

Absolutely infuriating.

And because you haven’t reached the point you can essentially unlock those things because of very very infuriating rules, you are left filling the time until you can get to that point.

“Well why don’t you just transport yourself to the future?” says someone.

Because if you travel forward from the point you are at to see how your actions have affected the future, the likelihood of you actually going to the desired point you are looking for is 50/50. 

Look. Time travel is forking complicated and I’ve figured out that my actions in this carries the possibility that I’m not traveling in the past but creating a similar timeline that a version of me will live through.

My dissociating problems might have just increased ten fold.

Which explains why I am now coming to you live from Platform 9 ¾ instead of explaining more about what I did for the rest of the month.

There’s a lot of compartmentalizing that I did and I still haven’t unpacked it all.

So here are the highlights until I can give you flashbacks. 

1: Lord Nox is my lawyer. He’s good at his job and working with the goblins. 

2: I got the items Narcissa Malfoy and I talked about at tea. Severus delivered them to me.

3: Severus managed to  give me some impromptu lessons to get me at least familiar with how he handles potions, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a lot more acerbic when it comes to class.

4: I managed to get Lockhart’s books all read. During the process, I discovered something very interesting and potentially illegal has been done to them to help them sell.

And finally number 5: I got Hedwig and boy was she happy to see me! 

I’m not even joking. She saw me and was like, “Hey! That’s my human! Human! Human! Over here! Take me home! I’m sick of this freaking shop!”

How could I argue with that kind of energy? She was doubly pleased to find out I could speak in her language. She calmed down about an hour after I got her and her things purchased and we safely made our way back to the house. 

She highly approved of her new residence and sounded rather upset she wouldn’t have very long to get used to it before we were to go to Hogwarts. “Don’t young humans usually have to go there?” she asked. “You seem like one of their adults.”

“I’m afraid it’s a long conversation involving magic, bodily possession, and apparently future time travel shenanigans,” I sighed. “Are you okay if I stun any mice I feed you before you get them? I’d rather not hear them scream.”

“Oh yes! That’s fine,” Hedwig assured me. “So you have to go because of weird human wizard things then?”

I nodded and Hedwig tilted her head. “Are you scared?”

Her question gave me pause. Was I scared?

I was definitely uneasy at the idea of leaving my safe place. Truly leaving it for nine months. I might be leaving it for Hogwarts - which was many a young person’s dream come true. But I was still going away to a place I didn’t know. Not truly. I am often shown I never know someplace I go to no matter the format I was introduced to it.

Standing at the iconic platform, my suitcase in one hand and Hedwig’s cage held in the other, I felt nervous. But not scared

Not yet.

Oh I had a feeling it was coming. A massive anxiety attack was almost guaranteed to present itself at some point down the line. But not yet.

“Are we going through?” Hedwig chirped. “I know you said we should get here early but you’ve been standing in this spot for a while and the crowds are starting to pick up.”

I cringed. I must have been further into my own head than I thought.

“Right. Here we go.”

…

….

…..

“We’ve not moved.”

“I know, Hedwig.”

…

….

“You move your legs and walk through.”

“I know, Hedwig.”

“Then why aren’t you moving?”

“Remember when you asked me if I was scared?”

“Yes.”

“Well I may be in the first vestiges of it.”

“The first what?”

“I think the scared part is starting to kick in and I may end up just aborting this whole thing.”

“Does that mean we can go back to your house then?”

I flashed to Severus’ face for a moment and then shook my head. “No. I made a promise and I have to keep it.” I could feel my hands and knees shaking and I took a deep breath. 

You are going to walk through that doorway and get on the train and get your ass to Hogwarts where you are getting your ass sorted into Hufflepuff and the first time you can you are going to track down Snape and snog the pants off him, I ordered myself. But in your proper form because otherwise it would be gross.

Apparently that was what I needed because I strode through the platform entrance with little problem after that.

The magical side of the platform was busy as fork despite there being at least an hour and a half before the train was scheduled to leave. Honestly I was not expecting this much traffic so I was very eager to get my booty on the train and find a compartment to hide in. I worked to find an attendant to help me out while Hedwig grumbled about loud environments and how she hoped she can just fly to Hogwarts next time.

My girl was not having a good time.

I wasn’t either and I was very glad I had everything in my suitcase that I could store on the overhead rack in the compartment with me. I finally got help from a staff member and Hedwig was safely stored into the animal storage car.

Then I got onto the train to find myself a spot. Highlight of my day so far. No sarcasm. I decided to perform a walk-through so I could find out where the bathrooms were and just explore. Luckily, unlike on the platform, there was barely anyone on the train so far.

I was pleased to discover there actually was a dining car present and it was rather large compared to the feel of the other cars. A lady I think might have been the Trolley Lady was working in tandem with a gentleman behind the counter. They greeted me asking if I was a first year and I nodded. They explained how the counter wasn’t open for orders yet but I could take a look at the menu just in case I planned on ordering something when it did or I could go ahead and sit at one of the tables if I liked.

I did take up the offer to look at the menu even though I wasn’t sure if I was going to order anything. The fair they were offering involved a nice variety of sandwiches, three different soups, and a small selection of drinks and deserts. No cheesecake unfortunately but there was strawberry shortcake or apple pie with vanilla ice cream as alternatives so I wasn’t completely unhappy.

“When does the dining car officially open?” I asked.

“About two hours into the train journey, Dear, and we’re open for three hours after that for food but we cut off meals after that. We’ll still serve you drinks up to an hour before you arrive to Hogwarts though in case you get thirsty so don’t fret if you need something before we get to our destination.”

I thanked them both again and she informed me that if I needed to look at the menu again they had copies inside the compartments on the tables. With another thanks given, I placed the paper in my hands back on the small stack on the counter top and made my way back to the compartment I chose to reside in during my journey.

Chapter Text

Dear Charlotte,

If you are amiable, I would like to have you over one last time before I must go to Hogwarts in order to finalize preparations before term starts. I have something planned you might be agreeable to partake in and perhaps afterwards we can have dinner.

I won’t push but it would make me very happy that I should see you one last time in your true form before you must appear as an eleven year old child and we are both forced to act in roles neither of us find pleasing.

Yours,

Severus Tobias Snape

That is how I found myself persuaded to visit Severus Snape’s domicile one more time before Hogwarts started: One polite letter and I’m back, halfway hoping I can get a kiss this time. The paranoid and self-deprecating parts of my brain were berating me something fierce; they were taking great pains to calling me an idiot, saying how I was opening myself up for pain and betrayal.

The fan-girl and the romantic parts of me were countering the abuse with hopeful daydreams and shoving our interactions with Snape so far as well as what the video had told us front and center.

All of those voices were quieted once Snape answered his door. His poker face was in place until he ushered me inside. Once the door closed, he was able to look pleased to see me. He must be paranoid himself that unfriendly eyes are watching him, I mused as he led me into the kitchen where items were spread out.

"What's all this?" I ask, surveying the area. He raised an eyebrow at me and tilted his head towards the items on the counter.

"I refuse to allow you to embarrass yourself and by extension me with your lack of preparation and brewing skills," Snape explained. 

I was fighting back a grin as amusement danced within me. "You're giving me private tutoring in Potions."

"The books can only teach one so much and I will not let you go to Hogwarts without a basic understanding." He tosses me an apron and proceeds to put one over his front. "You've got less than a week to learn this stuff."

I can't tell if I'm more thrilled than wanting to laugh my ass off. I know I've lost the battle to contain my grin. We settled together, him instructing me in that silky voice of his while I diligently followed his orders. Most of what we did was preparations of ingredients but I had fun. Two hours flew by with me ending up rather zen.

As we cleaned up, Severus stated, “I’m pleased with your work today. Although how your cutting technique will stand up once you’ve had to devolve your body to a younger age is to be seen.”

“Should I have made myself eleven while we worked?” I asked and the sour look he gave me told me the answer.

As we stood side by side, I realized I really wanted to kiss him and despite my anxiety I decided to vocalize my thoughts.

"If I don't kiss you before I have to go to Hogwarts and spend the next nine months only being able to look at you, I'm going to lose my mind," I told Severus. "This very well may be the last time we can spend any amount alone together and-" He cupped my face with his hands, effectively silencing my words.

"All you have to do is ask," he told me and then kissed me so thoroughly my damn toes cramped from the curling and my brain short circuited for a hot minute.

My mind rushed back to the present as I heard a large increase of activity coming from outside my compartment. The influx of arrivals with their loud noises and movement was causing my anxiety (which had finally died down) to flare back to life.

I didn’t feel like this hypersensitivity was normal to my adult self nor do I remember being this uncomfortable when I went with Hagrid and my clone to Diagon Alley. I did however remember this being something I’d felt in my life previous to this one. Hypersensitivity, poor impulse control, prone to breakdowns… 

Was I going to have a redux of all my worst imbalances when I was stuck in this form?

Forking mother trucking gourd damn it.

I heard a soft chime from my pocket and reached into it, my hand gripping my phone. I looked at the screen and there, bouncing ever so slightly, was a notification I’d gotten a text message.

It was from Knowledge.

Everything will be alright. Just take some deep breaths.

I was puzzled for a half a heart beat before I remembered this was Knowledge. Knowing things was their designation. Their whole being. Of course they would know I was freaking out. I felt comforted at the thought that they took time to send me a message.

Another chime to tell me someone else had messaged me.

This one was from Death.

I can feel you freaking out. I don’t know why but STOP IT. 

I felt a giggle tickling my inside but it didn’t escape. 

Can’t help it . Unexpected problems cropped up.

Old issues from my powerless last life might be coming back thanks to me being stuck as a child.

A few moments of nothing before:

Sucks to be you, fleshbag.

I let out a scoff mixed with a laugh and exited the messenger app. I suppose I should have been irritated with the almost callus response from Death but I found myself unable to be. Although they did have moments where they could be sympathetic, their nature was neutral and thus they said things as it was.

I was slightly worried about them feeling my anxiety and I hoped that was a joke because the implications that Death could feel overly strong emotions coming from my end did not bode well. My mind easily conjured up a few discomforting scenarios and I groaned. 

The warning horn for the train blew, scaring the bejesus out of me and I nearly dropped my phone. I slid it back into the safety of my pocket. Soon the train would head to Hogwarts - my “home away from home” for the next 9 months. Part of me wanted to be over the moon that I was going to be at such an iconic location. But given the fact Dumbledore is an evil bastard and in charge, I didn’t feel any kind of excitement for attending. I didn’t need to learn magic or anything they could teach me in those halls so I wasn’t excited to learn either.

The only excitement I felt was the fact I would see Snape again.

The memory of the kiss we shared made my stomach swoop and I wondered if he would be okay with me sneaking off to find his rooms so I could see him. Or maybe he could give me some detentions under the excuse of his cover to sate me.

Scrubbing cauldrons and preparing ingredients (even the gross slimy kind) would be worth it if we could just be together.

And now I’m going back to swooning fangirl territory.

Great.

Chapter Text

There was lots of activity outside my door but no one tried coming into my compartment for a place to sit. I was ambivalent. One side was happy I wouldn’t be suddenly surrounded by strange kids that might trigger my feelings of being overwhelmed. The other side was upset because  everyone seemed to act like my compartment wasn't even there. They just passed on by.

I really hoped it wasn’t me that was causing it because that meant that if canon events were meant to occur Ron Weasely wouldn’t be finding anywhere outside the public cars to sit.

I partially even wondered why I needed to meet the youngest Weasely son anyhow. I wasn’t the canon Harry Potter and it wasn’t as if I would have a good reason for befriending the preteen boy.

And if that didn’t suddenly make me feel like I was a creeper…

The train whistled and began its journey out of the station, finally sending us on the way to our destination. In several hours I would see Severus again. That happy thought my brain decided to follow up with, “and Hagrid and Dumbledore,” which ruined the mood something fierce.

I really hoped my interactions with both of them was minimal. However I was certain Dumbledore had plans to do something to Hadriana. Possibly involving some of those magic attacks he’d tried using on those letters. I was going to be very put out when he tried casting on me and vowed to make his life hell once he did. But only when he did.

I don’t start problems but I do end them. With prejudice. 

Instead of ruminating on that issue though I decided to drag out my Game Boy and play Pokemon until the Trolley Lady came by or someone asked to come sit with me. I know it’s years before that game is released but it was either that or a Pac-Man game and I didn’t think I would have the focus right now I play the ever hungry cheese wheel.

I had managed to capture several pocket monsters when someone opened my compartment door and looked inside.

A tall boy with flaming red hair and a smattering of freckles that stood out on his alabaster skin looked at me with a polite smile. “Hello,” he greeted. Would you mind if I sit here with you?"

I nodded and motioned to the bench across from me. "Have a seat."

He smiled, giving me a relieved thankful sigh. I took a moment to look him over. His hair was styled perfectly to not look messy but also not overly slicked up. His clothes were new and fitted him well. A short sleeved white button up shirt underneath a gray waistcoat sporting brass colored buttons adorned with stars, black slacks and shined shoes below. This couldn't be Ron Weasely, could it?

It's rude to stare," he stated and I looked at him. He was frowning.

"I'm sorry. I was admiring the buttons on your vest," I admitted with an awkward look. "They're pretty and shiny."

He looked embarrassed then. "Sorry, I thought you were staring because of another reason."

I looked at him, worry visible on my face. “Do people stare at you a lot?”

He grimaced. “Only recently, I’m afraid.” He paused and stuck his hand out. “I’m Ronald  Weasely.”

Well that answers my question. I shook the offered hand as I introduced myself. “Hadriana Potter. Pleasure to meet you.”

His eyes went wide and he froze in shock, forgetting to let go of my hand. “Hadriana “Haddy” Potter as in the Girl-Who-Lived?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was in awe or terrified. 

“I have been told that is a nickname the magical world has given me,” I confirmed before sliding my hand out of Ronald’s grip. “The nickname Haddy is new though. Don’t know how much I like it.”

“My family knows your guardian, Daniella Radcliff! My mum was hoping we’d see you two on the platform before boarding,” Ronald explained. He seemed to come to his senses and got himself together as he spoke. “Apparently they were close after she - Ms. Radcliffe, I mean - saved my both my uncles’ lives during a firefight in the war. After she removed herself from the magical world about ten years ago, they haven’t been able to see each other.”

“Oh!” I was surprised. Even though I knew Gideon and Fabian still lived, that still came as a shock to me. Not as hard core as when I found out about the Malfoys but still… shock.

“Ms. Radcliffe sponsored me when I started playing competitive wizard’s chess,” Ronald informed me with a grin. “She helped my Uncle Gideon find me tournaments and arranged for transportation and things when I was first starting out. I’ve never been able to thank her in person for it. Didn’t she come with you?”

“She did but we got here really early before it was crowded,” I lied. Inside I was reeling from the info dump I’d just been given. Ronald Weasely played professional wizard chess and competed in tournaments. That was definitely not canon! I didn’t even know that was a thing! What the fork was going on?! What the blazes had my future self done now?

He looked disappointed at my statement but still gave me a smile. ‘Awkward introduction but still better than the one in the book,’ I thought. We sat in silence a little bit before I went, “So you play in wizarding chess tournaments?”

He smiled, a little bit friendlier than before. “Yeah. I’ve been at it since my seventh birthday. I really enjoy it. And I’m pretty good at it, too. Do you play?”

“Only non-magical chess. Even though magical pieces mend themselves at the end of the game, I always get nervous when they smash each other to bits.”

This was not a lie. 

“My sister, Ginny, is like that. She couldn’t stand playing after her first game because she got too attached to her pieces and then cried when they broke each other. Wouldn’t talk to me for days afterward.” He said that in a tone that was half amused and half annoyed.

“How many siblings do you have?” I asked.

“I got five older brothers and then there’s just Ginny after me. My eldest brother, Bill, works for Gringotts as a curse breaker. He’s in Africa on assignment right now. Charlie, the second eldest, works with dragons and is currently in Romania. Third is Percy. He’s in his fifth year in Ravenclaw and made prefect. Was well chuffed when he got the badge with our letters. Then finally there are the twins: Fred and George. They’re identical and really, really enjoy playing pranks and tricks. Mum swears that their being in Slytherin is a blessing because they don’t get as much trouble as they would if they’d both gone to Gryffindor. I honestly don’t know how that could be since they act like chaos incarnate at home.”

I blinked, utterly floored at this information. Percy was in Ravenclaw? The twins were in Slytherin? Molly was okay with it? What the heck was with this timeline I was living in?!

“What house do you want to go to?” was all I could think to ask.

“Well I like the blue of Ravenclaw,” Ronald mused, “but I’m not much interested in pursuing knowledge so I don't know if I’d go there. I don’t think I’m ambitious enough for Slytherin. My parents were Gryffindor and so were my two oldest brothers so that wouldn’t be too bad.”

I noticed a distinct lack of… negative talk in regards to Slytherin and asked, “Voldemort was in Slytherin, right? Do you know if people judge the house too badly because of it?”

Ronald frowned in thought. “I mean some do because of the history that is passed around and you don’t get a lot of muggleborns sorted in there. But Mum says we shouldn’t judge someone by the colors they wear since it’s actions that speak the loudest. But what about you? What house do you think you’ll go to?”

“I want to go to Hufflepuff.”

“Not Gryffindor? I heard your parents were there.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really that brave and I don’t feel like I would want to dorm in a tower.” I did not tell him that I would also like to avoid the house Dumbledore was in like a plague. Give me the house dorms near the kitchens with a common room that’s cozy, darn it!

We spent time exchanging bits of conversation. I was surprised that I was having a decent time of it. Ronald was interested in my Game Boy and I showed him how to use it. He mentioned he’d seen advertisements for one on the television. It turned out the Weaselys had a television set at home and Ronald liked to occasionally watch programs. He mentioned the Muppet Show and that brought out a whole new line of conversation. Turns out the youngest Weasely boy was a big fan of the Muppets. I listened to him go on about how amazing it was and who his favorite muppets were. He expressed awe at how the show was done by muggles and how they made it happen through no magic whatsoever.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said. “I think it had to have started with a bit of magic and Jim Henson might be an actual wizard but he specializes in non-magical puppetry to blend in. He wouldn’t be the first one to do it. Even if he is actually a wizard and just hides it, the Muppets are brilliant.”

I agreed with him.

My ears picked up the sound of wheels clattering down the hallway outside and an increase in voices. The trolley lady opened the compartment door and gave us a smile. “Anything from the trolley dears?”

I glanced at Ronald who looked like he was thinking about getting something and then looked back at the old woman. “Yes, please.” I got to my feet and looked at the bounty in front of me. “Can I have three of all the candy minus anything that tastes like licorice. Oh and no Berti Botts please?”

She smiled with understanding and helped me gather the treats. I was still planning on going to the dining car and getting food but I wanted some candy and this was the most convenient choice.

Ron came up behind me and ordered some Ice Mice, Crystalized Fruits, a packet of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, two Sugar Quills, three Chocolate Frogs, and some new candy I don’t recall from the books called Antoni Nummly’s Jelly Babies mix.

I knew what I was going to tear into later if they were what I thought they were going to be like.

Trolley Lady thanked us as we handed over our money, saying, “Dining Car’s open now, Dears, and it’ll be open for the next three hours.” We thanked her and she rolled away.

Ronald settled himself back on his seat and I looked at him as I stuffed my candy into my bag. “I’m going to the dining car to get something more than candy for lunch,” I informed him. “Do you want to come? There’s a spare menu in the holder underneath the window if you need help deciding.”

He perked up at that, finding the item in question and taking a look. “Mum packed me some sandwiches but I need to get a drink and I’d like a soup as well.” He glanced at me. “Do you know what you’re having?”

I nodded. “Potato leek soup, club sandwich, and the strawberry shortcake,” I replied.

He nodded with a hum as his eyes went back to look over the menu. “I’ll get a tomato soup and a bottle of pumpkin juice, I think.” He looked at his candy that was strewn about on the seat. “You think it’ll be safe while we’re gone?”

I grinned. “I know a charm to secure the door so nobody will come in while we’re away. Come on, I’ll show you!”

We both stepped outside and I slid the door closed. Taking out my wand (purely for appearances), I tapped the door twice and said, “Lock.” The door glowed for a second and I smiled. “There. Try it.”

He glanced at me and then the door before taking the handle and trying to open it. He smiled when he found it safely secure. “Brilliant! Let’s go then!”

We headed down the corridor to get lunch.

Chapter Text

Earlier in our acquaintance, Ronald had mentioned he thought I’d been staring at him for some other reason than the one I gave. Which, in my defense, it actually was me admiring the embroidered stars on his waistcoat.

And isn’t it weird for me to think ‘waistcoat’ and ‘Ronald Weasely’ in the same sentence since those clothes are completely out of what I ever thought I’d see him wearing. Wasn’t just the style either, but we’ll put that aside for now.

When we got into the dining car I noticed people who had taken up tables were sending looks towards us after a few minutes waiting in line. I would have thought they were staring at me and this damnable scar but it was well concealed and their gazes were very much pointed right on the youngest Weasely son.

Poor guy was doing an admirable job of ignoring them but I could tell he was not appreciating the attention. Which was a surprising twist from how I knew his character to be in canon. We got our food and returned to our compartment, settling ourselves down. I pulled up the little table that was folded down beneath the window. “You mind if I ask you a question?” I said as we began to eat. 

He frowned a little as he unwrapped the sandwiches he pulled from a small bag he’d had on him when he came in. “I suppose.”

“Why the heck is everyone ogling you like a freaking showpiece?” I queried bluntly. “I wanted to think that they were staring at me but my scar is pretty much covered up and hard to see. You mentioned you thought I was staring at you for another reason earlier but I brushed it off.”

He sighed. “You know how I mentioned I play wizard chess tournaments?”

I nodded and he continued, “Last week I won a major competition and the papers are still crowing about it. Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad I won and the fame usually doesn’t bother me. But I’ve received a lot more attention than I normally would.” 

I pursed my lips, nodding. “Okay so you totally kicked butt and now everyone is making your victory awkward,” I summarized. He agreed with me and I said, “Well then I won’t ask any more questions about it, we’ll eat our lunch and any questions we have can be about Hogwarts and what we think about it.”

“Can I ask you questions?”

I paused, slightly confused. “What about?”

“Well everyone was told you were sent to live with muggles, but my mum said Ms. Radcliffe was your godmother and you were supposed to live with her. You confirmed she was with you at the station and she dropped you off. So did she sneak off with you and have you two live in the muggle world all this time?”

I visibly grimaced. “Not exactly,” was my hesitant answer. I struggled to figure out what to say. Lucky for me though, I was interrupted by the compartment door opening where two kids looked inside. 

One was a boy, plump-cheeked and slightly pale with cheeks holding a flush that only came from being extremely upset. He looked like the actor who played Neville in the films.

The other was a girl with bushy dark brown hair that was trying to fight the pony tail it had been put in and medium dark skin. She definitely did not look like Emma Watson. She did look very familiar though.

“Neville’s lost his toad and we’re trying to find it. Have either of you seen one?” she questioned.

Ronald and I shook our heads. “My brother’s a prefect and they have the first two compartments taken,” Ronald offered. “They should know a spell to help out.”

She grinned, showing slightly pronounced front teeth. She thanked Ronald and took hold of Neville’s hand, dragging him off while I called out “good luck”.

We went back to our lunches and after a few minutes, Ronald looked at me with expectation as I ate some of my potato leek soup. “Well?”

“Um, it’s kind of a bad story to be honest and we don’t really talk about it at home,” I explained. “Just know that I didn’t initially go with Daniella after Voldemort’s attack in 1981 but it’s all right now and I’m with the person I’m meant to be with.”

Ronald’s eyes went wide and I practically see the wheels in his head turning. But, surprisingly, he didn’t ask more questions and we continued eating.

After we finished and I took our trash to the receptacles, we sat in the compartment; watching the scenery pass by the windows.

A thought occurred to me as I was thinking and I asked, “Did you bring an animal with you to Hogwarts? I got my first owl a week ago. She’s a snowy named Hedwig.” 

“No, but my brother Percy has a rat named Scabbers.” I felt a cold chill down my spine but I didn’t show it. “He found him in the garden one day and he kept him. Thing basically sleeps most of the day. I wouldn’t mind having a rat of my own but Mum’s drawn the line at just one. Even though I told her I could take care of it and I have enough earnings from my tournament winnings I could afford all the bits and bobs for it, she refuses. She won’t entertain the idea of us getting any other pet either. I wish we could at least get a new owl - the one we have is old and clumsy. He keeps flying into the windows and falling onto tables.”

“Sounds like the poor guy needs to retire.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying but nobody wants to listen to me. I mean it can’t be good for him: crashing all the time, all over the place! Plus he’s ruined more than one bowl of food at meals by knocking into it. Nobody wants to eat mashed spuds when there’s feathers in them.”

“I imagine not.”

We sat in silence a little bit. “So what kind of wand did you get?” Ronald asked. “Did it take long to find you a match?”

I nodded. “We went through a whole lot of wands when I went to see Olivander,” I confirmed. “I had two that didn’t even get out of the box before they slid away from me! My face was like this so often,” I showed him my shocked mix with horror expression, “I thought it was going to get stuck like that. But we finally found me one.” I took it out of my holster and showed it to him. “Eleven inches, holly wood with a Phoenix feather core.”

He moved forward, eyeing it. I let him hold it for a minute. “It’s nice,” he complimented with a smile and handed it back. 

“What about you? What’s your wand?”

Ronald took his out from a pocket inside his waistcoat. “Fourteen inches willow wood with unicorn hair,” he announced. He presented it to me for my admiration. “I paid for it all by myself!”The pride in his voice was thick and I couldn’t help but grin at it. 

In my head though I was shaken as canon events showed themselves to once again have changed. 

“That’s impressive! It’s nice and light and I like the ridge effect on it!”

I handed it back to him while he nodded. “Back before I won, I was almost afraid I was going to have to use my brother Charlie’s old wand.” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “We do hand-me-downs a lot at home, you see, and my winnings - though pretty good - can’t always buy me new things. But the pot for the one I just won was really big and I made plenty to afford new robes and clothes and even a new wand!”

“That’s awesome!” I exclaimed. He nodded, grinning. “I put about two thirds of it in a vault in Gringotts so I could make interest on it and kept the rest. I should have enough to pay for all I’ll need for the next two school years but if I’m lucky.”

I nodded, giving him a look that I hoped expressed how I was impressed. In case it didn’t, I went, “That’s really impressive and smart thinking. I know a lot of kids our age wouldn’t think that far ahead or plan that well.” He blushed a little at my praise. I touched my chin in thought. “That sounds to me like the kind of thinking that should get you in Ravenclaw since they’re all about knowledge and wisdom.”

Ronald scratched the back of his head. “I dunno. It’s more common sense than anything else.”

“Ronald, we’re eleven. Most grown ups aren’t using common sense and they have the excuse of years filled with experience. I’m pretty sure you’ll go into Ravenclaw.”

He seemed to think about what I said. Meanwhile I was making myself a little nervous. Canon Ron Weasely was Gryffindor through and through but this guy? This Ronald Weasely wasn’t like his canon self and seemed like he actually would fit into Ravenclaw.

Further thoughts were put aside as the compartment door was opened and the girl from earlier poked her head in. “We found Neville’s toad after locating the prefect. It was ever so helpful and I wanted to stop back and say thank you in case I didn’t get the chance later. So, thank you!”

Ronald nodded and the girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

So this was Hermione. Guess Emma Watson couldn’t make it.

Ronald accepted the hand and shook it, giving her his name. She turned to me expectantly, her hand extended for me to shake. I did so as I introduced myself. She looked very excited and I almost felt bad for what I was about to say. 

Almost.

“If you’ve ended up reading anything about me in any books, I’m legally obligated to inform you it’s mostly rubbish and none of it was authorized to be printed by my guardian so take what was read with a very fine grain of salt.”

Hermione’s face dropped as she let go of my hand. “Oh,” she said. “I see.”

“Yeah it’s a very large mess that my lawyer is having to sift through since my reintroduction to the Magical World this summer. My guardian was very angry to find out people have been profiting off what happened to me when I was a baby without either of our consents.” Hermione and Ronald both looked stunned by this admittance. I decided to push forward. “Are you new magic, Miss Granger?”

She smiled proudly. “Oh yes! First witch in my family! My parents didn’t say anything but I could tell they were quite relieved that there was finally an explanation for certain things I seemed to be able to do that we couldn’t explain! I tried to study as much as possible once I got my letter and was shown Diagon Alley but I couldn’t legally practice spells which really disappointed my sister as she wanted to see me work. She doesn’t seem to be able to do magic at all but she’s quite keen to learn as much as she can in case she gets a letter of her own in two years.”

Time seemed to pause around me as I took in and processed her admission. Not just the part where she admitted she couldn’t practice spells legally but the part where Hermione Granger has a little sister. When the bloody blazes did that happen?! That wasn’t canon!

I decided to interrupt her before she went further on. “So you have siblings?”

She nodded. “Katerina,” Hermione informed us. “She’s two years younger than I am and we  aren’t anything alike. Gymnastics and dancing are more her things, but my family hopes that’s going to change with how keen she seems to be when it comes to learning about all this with me. I’d better get back to my compartment. It was nice meeting both of you.”

She shook our hands once more and left. When the door shut, Ronald let out a long breath. “She’s a talker, that one,” he observed. I nodded. “She didn’t seem too bad though despite the fact she went on without pausing for breath,” I said and he shrugged dismissively.

We sat in silence for a few moments before the door slid open without a knock, revealing Draco Malfoy with his bookends behind him. Unlike Ron, he looked almost identical to the actor who had brought him to life on screen with the exception of his eyes which were silver-blue in colour. They did  once over at Ronald before focusing on me. “Are you Hadriana Potter?” he asked, his tone not derisive but also not friendly.

I confirmed I was and he straightened himself up. “I’m Draco Malfoy. My parents are friends with your guardian and I was told it was important that I introduce myself to you.”

I automatically felt myself sit a little taller in my seat as if I was preparing for a battle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Draco Malfoy.” I glanced at his companions. “And you two are?”

Draco motioned to his left. “This is Crabbe.” Then to his right. “And this is Goyle.”

Both were large and stocky but looked similar enough to their movie counterparts. They nodded their heads as they were introduced. They didn’t exude unfriendly vibes as much as they just were there.

“Pleasure to meet you two.” I motioned towards Ronald. “This is Ronald Weasely. His family is also friends with Daniella.”

Ronald gave a wave as the three other boys looked at him. I saw Draco’s eyes light up in recognition. Oh please don’t let him start. Ronald looked on edge as Draco approached him; both boys staring at each other in silence.

It wasn’t until Draco gave a rather charming smile and extended his hand to the youngest Weasley boy that I felt myself relax a touch. Ronald still looked guarded but I couldn’t blame him.

“Congratulations on becoming junior world champion, Weasley,” Malfoy praised him. I glanced at Ronald with well hidden shock  as the youngest Weasely shook the offered hand, looking slightly less on edge.

“Thank you,” he returned.

“The papers reported you won’t be attending any competitions during the school year. Is that going to affect your place?”

 Ronald shrugged. “The junior divisions don’t hold official tournaments during the school year in order to make sure participants aren’t hampered scholastically. You also have to keep a minimum of Exceed Expectations in order to remain in the league. I’m confident I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe if you end up in Slytherin we can play a game sometime. I have a custom made set I brought from home and these two are rubbish. We’ll play a match.”

Ronald gave neither a confirmation or a denial at that, but I had the feeling he wasn’t too keen on it. Or maybe I was projecting.

Either way Draco seemed to be focused on schmoozing up Ronald which was weird as hell if I’m honest. Ronald didn’t look like he was enjoying the attention. Draco also seemed to practically ignore me which I was partly okay with but given how he’d initially only come around to make an introduction to me was pretty damn rude.

Draco was in the middle of telling a story where he claimed he had been playing two games of chess at once against his father and godfather and he was doing remarkably well when I decided to save poor Ronald who seemed to be giving Draco only polite attention. “So why did you need to introduce yourself to me?” I asked. Draco frowned as he looked at me, very unhappy at my butting in. “As I said, your guardian has the privilege of being acquainted with my family. It's only natural we should meet,” he said in a condescending tone.

“Really? Because it seems right now you came here with that as an excuse and now your purpose is to talk off poor Ronald’s ear while you leave your companions blocking the doorway.” I looked at Crabbe and Goyle. “Do you two want to sit down or would you like to get back to where you were before Malfoy dragged you off?”

The looks of genuine confusion would have been funny if not for the fact that Draco was looking even more sour with me. “They’re my vassals, Potter. They’re meant to follow me about. Doubt you’d know what those are given how you’ve been raised cut off from the magical world.”

“I know what vassals are, Malfoy. Do you know what a liege is?”

“Of course! I’m not stupid.”

“Do you know who the Malfoy family has a liege, then?”

He scoffed, “We don’t have a liege.”

“I have a document from Gringotts that says otherwise. Now get out of my compartment.”

A look of contempt was now in full on force. “Come on, Weasely, you can join us in our compartment. Far more entertaining to be with equals than sitting here and spending time with her .”

Now, as an adult, I probably could and should just leave that slight alone. But given I’ve had such warm interactions with Narcissa and Lucius, Draco’s little attitude was pissing me off something fierce.

Thus why I teleported him to the water closet farthest from me on the train. An even pettier part of me hoped he landed head first in the toilet.

Ronald, Crabbe, and Goyle looked around trying to figure out how Draco had disappeared while I just pulled out my Game Boy. “You boys should head back to your seats,” I suggested. “Unless you have something to say?” I eyed the pair expectantly. They looked at each other and then back to me. They shook their heads and I gave them a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you then. Hopefully we’ll have more pleasant interactions with each other during school.”

They took left then and it was me and Ronald again.

“I really hope I don’t end up in the same house as him,” Ronald said after a beat of silence. “He’s a bloody nightmare! I don’t think I’d get a moment’s peace! Thanks for interrupting him. I don’t think I could have taken much more! And where does he get off, calling us equals and then looking down his nose at you? You’re far more famous than I am.”

“Something tells me he probably would have shown more interest in me if I’d been the Boy Who Lived and not a girl,” I explained.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if I’d been a boy like you two, I would have been far more interesting because he would have assumed I had loads of interests the same as he did. But because I’m a girl I’m automatically boring.”

“Bloody stupid line of thinking,” Ronald grumbled. “I’ve had loads of fun speaking to you.”

“You also put in an actual effort which Malfoy didn’t. If anything he seemed to have been bored and thought introducing himself to me would pass the time until he could find a better target for his attention. That ended up being you.”

“It was like I was being interviewed for another newspaper article that devolved into just constant bragging,” Ronald sighed. “I was getting a headache. I wanted to tell him to bugger off but apparently can’t do that when you’re a public figure. Which I am now.” He did not sound that happy about it.

“Well I don’t have a problem with it regardless of what people call me so if you’re hanging out with me, I’ll do it for you.”

Ronald smiled. “Thanks.” He paused and then asked, “So you have a paper at Gringotts that said you’re the Liege Lady of House Malfoy?”

I nodded with a smile that conveyed my awkward discomfort. “As well as a few other but I didn’t intend to say anything about it until he started acting like that and boasted about vassals. I only found out about it when I took my inheritance test.”

“Bet that was a shock.” He paused for a second before asking, “Is it okay if I ask why you needed an inheritance test?”

I was quiet for a second as I seemed to think about it. “That’s another one of those complicated things I can’t speak about right now.”

Ronald nodded, accepting my answer. He didn’t push and I was grateful for it. “So you won the world championship?” I asked. He nodded and I grinned. “Malfoy may have been a jerk but he was right giving you congratulations on that. I promised I wasn’t going to ask questions so we’ll leave it alone. Have you read any muggle books?”

The look of relief on Ronald’s face was palpable as we talked about many subjects with interspersed silent gazing out the train window. We would occasionally eat some of our candy and we exchanged words about the different sweets we enjoyed. 

I didn’t see hide nor hair of Malfoy for the rest of the train ride and no other visitors showed up so I counted the whole adventure as a success if not canon compliant as we pulled into station at Hogsmeade.

Chapter Text

The sky had darkened by the time we pulled into Hogsmeade station, Ronald and I packing up any remaining candies left out. We held back from the initial throng that was rushing for the exits; neither of us was over eager to join the pushing masses. It made me feel a little extra comforted knowing we both were satisfied to avoid all that.

We got off the train and made our way to the group of other first years. Hagrid was calling for us all to gather in front of him and I felt another hit of relief when he didn’t single me out in greeting. Whether it was because he was feeling anything in regards to his actions last time or he just didn’t spot me as I wasn’t in the forefront of everyone. 

“That’s all of you is it?” he asked after the last few stragglers joined us. “Okay now follow me and watch your step!”

He led us out Hogsmeade station and down a path through the woods. Unlike in the books where they said it was dark and steep, lanterns decorated the sides of the tree thick path so that we could see where we were going. I gave a quick thanks to whoever made that decision as we all made our way down to the pier where our boats waited for us.

Hagrid gave us all a few moments to admire the view of Hogwarts from across the lake and oh what a sight it was! Even from this far away, the castle was breathtaking and even more impressive than any media adaptation I’d seen had given it. I broke out of my revelry as I felt Ronald tug on my hand to get my attention. “I bet it’ll look even better as we’re riding the boats,” he said and I nodded. With Hagird’s instructions of no more than four in a boat, Ronald and I were joined by Hermione and Neville.

Neville was carrying his toad in a small clear box with air holes in it, his grip tight. “I see you’ve got him safe again,” I commented and Neville nodded. “The prefects helped me repair his terrarium so now he’s safe from being trod on,” he explained. “The lid latch broke when we flooed to the station. This is Trevor.”

“Lovely to meet you, Trevor,” I greeted the toad. The animal in question widened its eyes at hearing me but whatever response he might have given was cut off as we all heard Hagrid shout “Forward!” and the boats began to glide across the surface of the lake.

“I feel like I’m on an amusement park boat ride,” I said with a smile. Ronald looked at me and asked if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I answered, “It’s a good thing. I like going to amusement parks and not all the rides are fast, dizzying wonders. Have you ever been to one?”

“No, but I’ve wanted to. I’ve seen ads for them on the television. Everyone looks like they’re having fun.”

“Maybe next summer we can go to one,” I offered. “Everybody should visit an amusement park at least once in their lives.”

“How can you two be talking about amusement parks when we’re heading to a castle where we’ll be attending real magical school?” Hermione asked in an incredulous tone.

“It’s preventing me from being overwhelmed,” I told her casually. “I’ve essentially gone from a quiet secluded life to several hundred miles from my comfort zone. I’ve left everything I‘ve known for the past eleven years and I’m about to be surrounded by about a thousand strangers in a castle I’m going to be living in for the next nine months of my life. I’m prone to anxiety attacks and the more I think about what’s ahead of me and how I’m stuck here, the bigger it wants to get. So I’m focusing on something silly like a non-magical amusement park.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she thought about what I said and then (thankfully) made no other comments about my conversation with Ronald.

I felt a slight prodding from Neville and looked at him. “Do you want to hold Trevor?” he asked. “I didn’t leave him on the train because I was feeling anxious too.”

I shook my head but gave him a warm smile. “No but thank you. It’s no good for both of us to be freaking out. Besides, he’s enjoying the view he’s got right now.”

“It’s true,” Trevor croaked. I was the only one who could understand him but the message was conveyed well enough.

We finally made it to the dock hidden behind a wall of ivy at the base of the cliff and Ronald got out first. He gave Hermione a hand out, held Trevor’s box while Neville scrambled out, and then helped me out of the slightly rocking boat. When my feet were safely on the floor I made to let go and he offered for me to keep holding it. “It might help you not feel so anxious.”

“Only if you don’t mind and you tell me to let go when it gets annoying,” I told him. He nodded and I clasped his hand. Which turned out to be a good thing since Hagrid warned us to mind the steps as they get slippery because of the mist.

(I may or may not have heard-slash-seen a certain Malfoy scion lose his balance on said stairs and only through the grace of his vassals did he not fall back down.)

“Keep going up the stairs, you lot,” Hagrid ordered. “You’ll find the Deputy Headmistress waiting for you at the top. Have a good night and good luck on your sorting! See you all in the Great Hall!”

With that he was gone, thankfully still not seeming to spot me. 

And so roughly forty kids were left unattended and trusted to just keep going until they met Professor McGonnogal (presumably) at the top of the stairs like in the film. I’m certain that in another life, if I was less determined to behave myself and my give-a-damn was busted, this would be the perfect opportunity to sneak off with my absence causing havoc once it was discovered I wasn’t among the group.

How weird is it that that little day dream helped quell the anxiety that was bubbling inside me?

Chapter Text

Dame Maggie Smith was in fact at the top of the staircase waiting for us and with a commanding air she gave us the whole spiel about houses, house points, rule breaking… you know the drill. While she gave us this talk, she led us to stand outside what I could guess was the Great Hall if the din of voices coming from the massive double doors was any indication. Then she told us to wait there, saying, “I suggest you smarten yourselves up before I return.”

A quick look over myself and Ronald assured me we were both immaculate. Neville was also fine - no buttons fastened on the wrong side for him.

Everyone looked pretty fine with the exception of Malfoy, who appeared rather disheveled and not having much success getting out of it. His hair was afright; robes creased. It was definitely going to cause a few tongues to wag. 

Probably a little heartless of me but I had no sympathy for him. 

I guess Professor McGonagal wasn’t gone long enough for the ghosts to come through because I didn’t see them pop on through. I guess they would show up during the Feast. I hoped the Bloody Baron was more book than movie introduction. I hoped Sir Nicholas didn’t pop his head up through the chicken wings. I wondered if he was going to look like John Cleese.

Focus.

We filed into the Great Hall, lined up two by two. 

The hall was indeed great with the simulated night sky above us dotted with the stars and floating candles above us. Four incredibly long tables with hundreds of students already sitting at them.

I could feel my anxiety kicking into high gear at the sheer numbers surrounding me. I was attempting to do breathing exercises to stop it when I felt my hand being squeezed.

I’d forgotten Ronald was holding my hand. The grounding it gave me helped me fight the urge to bolt.

If you’ve watched the films, you’re aware of us stopping in front of what was essentially the platform stage which had all the teachers sitting at their massive table; the stool with the Sorting Hat up front and center.  

The hat was a colorful patchwork mess - far more so than I remember it being in the films. It had the same shape but it definitely wasn’t a stoic brown base with matching shaded fixes. Vibrant patches of blue, purple, and red were slotted here and there; I even spotted a few patches where the fabric had been patterned. 

Without further ado, the Sorting Hat broke into his song. The jaunty tune was a toe tapper and I once again felt cheated we didn’t get to hear it in the films. 

“Oh you may not think I’m pretty!

But don’t judge on what you see. 

I’ll eat myself if you can find 

A smarter hat than me!

You can keep your bowlers black

Your top hats sleek and tall

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all!

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see

So try me on and I will tell you 

Where you ought to be!”

There was a two second pause and then people gave applause. Meanwhile I felt disappointment hit me deep. That was it? We didn’t even get the full song but just the first bit of it? Where was the bit regarding the houses?!

Ronald nudged me. He’d apparently seen me scowling. “Are you all right?”

“I thought it was going to be longer,” I admitted. “Feels like a let down.”

He gave a nod and our attention was once again focused on Professor McGonagal. “When I call your name, come up and sit on the stool where I will place the hat upon your head. It will announce which House you will be put into. After that you will hand me back the hat and go sit at the table where your housemates reside.”

Thus the Sorting Ceremony began with the kids being called up alphabetically over whatever the fork order they were doing in the film. Happy in this, I finally was able to take a look at the one thing I was most excited to see when I got to this castle.

You know exactly who I’m talking about.

Sitting next to Quirrelmort was Snape, wearing his trademark black robes and looking almost exactly as he did in the movies. And just as good as he looked when last I saw him. I had to stop myself from staring at him and at least pretend to concentrate on the Sorting. 

He didn’t look in my direction while I was looking at him. My heart thumped a little hard in disappointment.

I did not look in Dumbledore’s direction once since the urge to glare at him would be far too strong not to give in to. Too tempted to set the man on fire with my powers.

Maybe if he pisses me off enough I’ll poison his food or drink or his candy.

Jeebus, I’m turning feral!

Concentrate on the Sorting, Charlotte.

“Granger, Hermione!”

I watched Granger go up to the stool and the Hat get placed on her curly crown. 

Curly… crown…

Curly Crown

Maiden Curly Crown

I should Lady Lovely Locks again.

“Gryffindor!” shouted the Sorting Hat. 

She looked happy about it but I think if she loved knowledge and studying as much as she claimed to she should have gone into Ravenclaw. I hope she finds a couple of people she gets along with. 

Neville was also sorted into Gryffindor, all the while holding the terrarium where a very relaxed looking Trevor resided. He had scrunched up his face a couple of times as he apparently conversed with Hat in his mind but he did wander over to the Gryffindor table after the Hat announced his placement. He was not so over eager to forget to give it back to Professor McGonagal which gave me a bit of relief. Trevor is definitely a good emotional support toad.

More names were called and we got closer to the P’s. Malfoy ended up in Slytherin (no surprise) with it barely even touching his head before it shouted his new home away from home. He looked smug but given the fact all he really had going for him was ambition? I really hoped the house could give him a reality check.

I’d prefer something less horrible than canon please.

Finally, my turn had come. With a deep breath and an encouraged squeeze of the hand by Ronald, I made my way up to the stool. McGonagall picked up the Hat and just as I was about to sit down, a voice shouted, “Gryffindor!”

The entire Great Hall was silent in shock but me?

I was furious.

Chapter Text

“Gryffindor!”

The overblown personality quiz of headgear bellowed this throughout the Great Hall without even being on my head nor me having sat down.

This was not going to fly.

I went, sat my booty down on the stool, and waited.

It legitimately took two whole minutes before Professor McGonagal seemed to realize what had happened. And she had the gall to look at me and say, “Miss Potter, the Hat has placed you in Gryffindor. Please go to your table.”

“No.”

She blinked and I insisted, “It didn’t sort me. It shouted a House as I was getting ready to sit down. It didn’t even get close to my head and I didn’t get to talk to it about where I would like to be. So unless it’s actually randomly choosing a house to put people into and you all have been lying about it sorting students based on traits they possess, we’re going to try again. I am not going to be cheated out of my proper placement because that thing has performance issues.”

The Hat made sputtering noises at my statement, McGonagal looked something between disappointed and constipated; almost every student in the Great Hall were apparently confused as hell.

Whispers were getting louder as I gave my best challenging look to my future professor. I sincerely believe she was going to concede and put it on my head if Dumbledick hadn’t spoken up.

“Miss Potter, please head to the Gryffindor table.”

I turned around and looked at the headmaster, my eyes narrowing. “It didn’t sort me.”

“The Hat may have gotten excited but as it was your turn and it shouted Gryffindor, I can assure you you have been sorted,” he said, trying his best to sound genteel and calming. All it served was to piss me off.

“I was not sitting on the stool and it didn’t go on my head. Therefore it didn’t sort me. Unless you’re saying it doesn’t actually need to be put on our heads to determine where we belong?” I argued loud enough to make sure everyone could hear me. The mutters were definitely noticeable and I swear I felt Dumbledick’s kindly facade begin to crack.

“The Hat has announced you will be placed into Gryffindor and thus to Gryffindor you shall go,” he responded. “I’m sure the other students would appreciate it if you would accept this decision so they can be sorted. The longer you put up a fuss, Miss Potter, the farther away dinner gets.”

Trying to make me feel pressure to accept and it was my fault? I scowled even deeper, straightening my posture into almost ramrod as I jumped down off the stool. I made no masking of my displeasure when I looked at the Headmaster. “Good to know this whole process is a lie meant for show. Might I suggest drawing lots from a box if you’re so worried about time, Headmaster? It would remove hatstalls altogether and then nobody would have to worry about meals!” 

If things worked out, quite a few parents were going to hear about this from their children.

I snuck a look at Severus before I stalked all the way down to the very end of the Gryffindor table, wanting to put as much space between me and the teacher’s table as possible. Our eyes met briefly and I wondered if he could feel just how pissed off I was.

Of course I couldn’t read anything off him or see a reaction. His poker face was too perfect. That just made me even angrier.

This was supposed to have been an awesome moment! I was supposed to have sat on the stool and gotten to talk with the Hat and maybe convinced it to put me in Hufflepuff. Instead I was being forced to be in the House of Lions.

Fuck this school.

I wish I could say I wasn’t so upset that I didn’t pay attention to the rest of the sorting event but that would be a lie. I was insanely upset at what had happened and actually folded my arms on the table where I then put my head.

I was not sorted into Gryffindor. I was forced into this house. Just like it had felt like it had happened everytime I did the pottermore quiz in my past lives. I felt tears coming out and I just…

I want to go home.

I was upset and pissed off but there wasn’t really anything I could do about it unless I just said fuck it and teleported back to Cokesworth. But unless I just wanted to flex my power and damn the consequences, I wouldn’t do that because there was a really fucking nice future available to me if I stayed the course should the video I left with Severus be believed.

Which, if it wasn’t to be believed, then god damned.

I’m spiralling.

I was so caught up in my own disappointment I wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the Sorting.

So it was a big surprise when Ronald sat down next to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and waved hello.

I blinked at him, my eyes definitely red from the tears that had escaped. “Why are you here?” I asked. For a moment I thought my question might have sounded harsh but he didn’t show any signs it was. “You wanted Ravenclaw.” 

“The Hat decided Gryffindor.” He answered it like it was no problem.

“So it ignored what you wanted too?”

“I didn’t really care what house I was in to begin with. And you looked really upset. I didn’t want to leave you alone. It works out.” I just stared at him, blinking like a dummy doll.

Lucky for me dinner finally showed up. Not that I would have noticed because I just outright refused to pay attention to anything Dumbledore had to say.

Okay I paid like half attention to see if his dumbass would give his warnings like he did in the books since he hadn’t done it before the placement ceremony. He actually had the gall to accuse me of holding up dinner when the ceremony was over and he went on to do his announcements about places being off limits and what was considered contraband.

I said as much under my breath but Ron heard me and looked as if he wanted to agree with me. “It’s like he is asking for students to go wandering into those spaces. All he could have said is it was off limits because they were doing renovations. Unless you’ve got an odd student who was into magical construction, nobody would be tempted to check out the corridor. My commiserations to the staff members,” I said.

“Fred and George already look like they want to ditch dinner to investigate,” Ron told me, pointing towards the Slytherin table where two boys who looked exactly like their’ movie counterparts sat. He was right though; they definitely sported the expression of “challenge accepted.” “Mum’s gonna flip if they get caught because Professor Snape will have no problem sending her a notice. I told you how they don’t get caught often? When they do he automatically lets her know and she sends a bloody Howler out.”

“You think he does that instead of taking house points?”

“Might be. Or it just works better because some students don’t really care about House Points. I think Percy said that because the winners are announced so close to the Leaving that there’s not a celebration outside of the dinner we all attend when it’s announced. Not like with the Quidditch Cup. So a few students just don’t care about acquiring the points.”

“Makes sense. It’s not like we all get our own miniature House Cup or anything more than bragging rights for the year. Worthless.”

Then Dumbles said those four words (I wonder if they were the names of the house elves?) and food appeared on the tables.

It was a smorgasbord of tasty. 

It smelled fantastic. 

Roast beef, turkey, ham, pork chops, lamb chops, and chicken drumsticks were arranged on platters down the table. Tureens of various vegetables settled between the meat platters. Three different types of potatoes (roasted, boiled, and smashed) were there - four if you counted the chips (french fries). I spotted some roasted carrots, brussel sprouts, and broccoli; all of them glistening with butter. No sign of mint humbugs but I definitely spotted Yorkshire puddings and some tantalizing yeast rolls.

I was still very upset and wasn’t feeling like eating. Everything really looked divine and I was torn because I also knew the house elves of hogwarts had worked hard to put all this together. 

“You able to get everything in reach you want?” Ron asked.

Ron was going to be worried about me if I didn’t eat as well wasn’t he? Might as well get a plate in me. “Um…” I looked at what was close. I wanted ham but I would have to pass my plate down a couple of students to get a slice or two and even then they might not give me a pineapple slice. Joke what you want about Americans and their buffets but at least that would have been more effective to get the kids the food they want. Or maybe let us order set meals off menus.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered. “I’m going to get some ham.”

“I’ll come with. I want a turkey leg before they’re gone.”

We each grabbed our plates and went to where the meats we wanted were at. We got a couple of confused looks our way but they pretty much evaporated once they saw why we’d meandered from our seats. A fourth year graciously added a piece of pineapple to the ham slice she gave me and a fifth year helped Ron get his turkey leg. 

We headed back to our seats, grabbing some sides before we resettled down. 

It tasted good and I smiled. Very tasty. “My compliments to the chefs,” I said as I had a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Ron gave an enthusiastic nod, enjoying his turkey leg with gusto. We were both enjoying ourselves and our meal. It was going well.

Until I took a swig of pumpkin juice and nearly vomited.

Chapter Text

It tasted rancid.

Now I’ve had pumpkin juice before and I’m sure at some point this had been good. But whatever had happened to it had caused it to be absolute wrecked. I vanished the contents from my mouth before I did something everyone within seeing distance would have regretted. Ron noticed my demeanor had changed and asked what was wrong.

“My pumpkin juice is nasty. It tastes… rotten.”

Ron took a sip of his own and blinked. “Mine’s fine. Let me check.”

I swear this boy is too good. He took my goblet and a tentative sip from its contents, tilting his head in thought. “It tastes fine to me. Here check mine and see if it’s the same!”

It was. And I was just as unprepared for the horrific taste as the first time.

I dumped the contents from my goblet back into the pitcher and filled it with water. Ron’s eyes went wide as he watched me chug the filled glass down. “How did you do that?”

“What?”

“You filled your cup with water without a spell. You didn’t even use a wand!”

Well shit.

“I don’t know,” I lied, “but good thing I did because there is nothing else to drink.” Okay the nothing else to drink wasn’t a lie but the not knowing was and I really didn’t know how to explain to Ron I just did it. No spell required. 

Why the buggering fork was the only hydration option Pumpkin Juice? What happened if a kid didn’t like Pumpkin Juice or was allergic to it?

I asked it out loud and Ron looked thoughtful. “That’s actually a good question,” he asked as he took a bite out of his food. We both looked at the other tables, noting they all contained jugs of similar color dotting the tables and there was only one type of jug on the table for drinks.

“Oh that is sus as heck,” I muttered.

Ron blinked at me confused. I explained, “Only option to drink is Pumpkin juice unless you somehow get your own to bring to the meals. Not water or any other juice or even tea. Pumpkin juice has the ability to cover up tastes of a variety of potions which is why a lot of mums put their kids medicine in it when they’re sick.”

I might have just pulled that from my ass but I had a feeling I was 100% on point. I discreetly obtained a vial and got a sample of it.

“Wait. Are you thinking we’re being fed potion-ed drinks?” Ron had the decency to whisper that part so no one could hear it. He looked horrified and frightened.

“Given the luck I’ve had since being reintroduced to the wizarding world these last few months, I wouldn’t be surprised.” I put the vial into an item card and slipped it back into my pocket. It would keep until I could run tests on it.

“What in the world have you had to deal with?”

I shook my head, taking a long sip of water. God, I missed Koolaid and my own kitchen. “That is way too big a story to unload on someone I just met and at our welcome dinner,” I told him. “Try me in six months.”

Ron looked accepting of that condition after a minute of obvious inner-discussion. Then we pretty much ate in companionable silence, the din of the hall filling up space.

Finally, finally the meal was over. Unfortunately however it seemed that before we were all escorted to our respective dorms, Dumbledore felt like we should sing the school song.

It was awful.

Like really really bad.

I knew from the books it was a mess but experiencing it in person made it worse. Words floated above the Teachers Table with Dumbledore waving his wand, making a small bouncing ball perform as guide to this disaster of a sing along that had no music. 

I just stood and waited for it to be over. Ron was of similar mind, it appeared. 

Once the embarrassment was done, we followed our prefects to our dorms. I will say one thing, you’ll never miss leg day with the amount of stairs we have to climb to get to Gryffindor tower. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be damn easy to get lost around here. 

Where was a video game mini-map when you needed it?

Actually why wasn’t there any kind of markers on the walls for us to figure out where we would be going? I know the castle was rumored to be almost sentient, but it did have a decent set layout otherwise the Marauder’s Map wouldn’t have worked. Right? 

Thank god I can teleport.

Course that only applies to places that have my mark or I’ve been to before in this life. But at least I can teleport to the dorms now if I don’t want to climb the bloody stairs.

Speaking of the dorms, when I was pointed out with my presumed roomies for the next expected 7 school years, our prefect (Oliver Wood of all people) had said we would find our room by looking at the name plates on the door.

I’ll give you ten seconds to guess what new problem decided to enter my life tonight instead of letting me just go decompress.

I just can’t cut a forking break can I?

What’s worse is that by the time I’d checked all the dorm doors and confirmed my name wasn’t on any of them, I couldn’t find Oliver Wood anywhere to get help. I couldn’t just kip on the fourth bed in the room where Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Granger resided because there wasn’t one.

So I did what I thought was the smart decision and tried to get one of the upper years to help me. They didn’t believe me and basically told me to stop playing jokes and go to bed. Then shut their dorm doors in my face.

Yeah. I’m really feeling the House spirit.

So, with no other choice, and with give-a-damn-busted completely for the day I left Gryffindor Tower and went exploring. If I got caught and somebody made a fuss, well then that should make it easy for me to get Prof. McGonagall’s attention and my room situation sorted, shouldn’t it?

Chapter Text

I wasn’t trying to get caught but I also wasn’t skulking about in the halls as I walked around the castle, moonlight shining through the windows and illuminating my path. I could see just fine despite the darkness which is why I wasn’t using a mage light so no portraits made complaints about light. I also saw no ghosts and no Peeves the poltergeist either.

It was alarming that I hadn’t seen any of the famous spirits so far. Were they hiding?

It put me off. Was this a side effect of being Death’s Proxy? I did read fics where Harry’s being master of death and time traveling backwards had some side effects to his relationships with ghosts. Could it be the same here? This would take time to investigate.

But not on this night.

No this night was for wandering corridors and getting as much of a feel for the general layout of the castle I could. And possibly getting caught outside dorms after curfew and solving my damned bed problem!

“Damn you, Dumbledick,” I muttered as I walked around. I stopped and looked out through a window to enjoy the night view. I felt a pang of discomfort in my chest that was either loneliness or indigestion from dinner. Given the heavy rich foods and the fact I had to drink water with them, I wouldn’t put it past it to be indigestion with a touch of acid reflux.

“You should be in your dorm,” a voice stated. “It’s against the rules for students to be out of bed at this time, Miss Potter.”

Couldn’t help but smirk a bit. “I am very much aware, Professor Snape,” I replied. “Unfortunately it seems my sorting didn’t agree with Hogwarts and the castle has decided I have no bed in Gryffindor Tower.” I then looked at Severus who stared back at me in kind.

“That smirk is unsettling on your young face. Much more suited to your guardian.”

I chuckled and transformed into my adult body, clothes automatically shifting with my magic to match my figure. “That better?”

“Much.” He walked up to me, stopping to stand next to me. “If the castle is refusing to give you accommodations in the Gryffindor Tower then that means you were undoubtedly mis-sorted.”

“I wasn’t Sorted at all. Let’s not even dignify playing games with what happened tonight. It was all wrong. The song, the ceremony, and then the old bastard had the gall to act like I was holding up the line. I should have set his beard on fire.”

“Would hardly have solved the problem.”

“But it would have been very satisfying to see him in flames.”

He chuckled. “I have no doubt.” His smile left as he looked out the window. “Are you planning to just roam the halls until someone finds you?”

“That or morning comes and I confront Professor McGonagal during breakfast. If she or Dumbledore won’t fix it or just choose to ignore me, then I’m heading back to Cokeworth.”

“Not willing to follow through with your education?”

“So far I’m finding how things are run around here a disappointment. Which is a shame. I was really looking forward to my first potions class. Not that I was looking forward to being snapped at. Or verbally abused.”

“I had planned to mostly give you vague indifference.”

I nodded. I could live with that treatment if needed be. “Scowls?”

“And sneers. Glowers, most definitely. I need to appear as if I dislike you quite a bit but not to the point my treatment would cause your guardian to make problems. The Headmaster has made hints that my remaining on good terms with Daniella might be beneficial.”

“He’d be right. Though not in the way he hopes.”

“And if you do leave, how do you think that would affect our future?”

I sighed. “Would probably ruin it. I really want that future.”

“As do I,” Severus agreed. He reached out to take my hand, fingers sliding across my skin. “I find the idea of us eventually having a child together to be quite… pleasurable.” I shivered as his caress caused goose pimples on my skin; my eyes sliding closed as he lifted my wrist to his face and placed a slow kiss on it. I felt him slide further into my personal space, arm still clutched in one of his own as he rested his empty hand across my belly. He pulled me in front of him until we were back to chest; my head lolled back as he threaded our fingers together. “I wonder if our son will be conceived here in Hogwarts?” he whispered in my ear. 

God damn this man. Now I’m horny. He chuckled as if sensing my tension. “We have years ahead of us to find out. And you have a mission to perform.”

“Several missions,” I corrected him. “You’re playing me like a damn kazoo, Severus Snape.”

He chuckled, dark and rich. “You aren’t that easy, Miss Phelps.”

“Really? Because it feels like I am.” There was only a smidgen of unhappiness with myself reflected in my voice. “A few caresses, sultry words, and whispered promises and I’d dance to your tune like a puppet.”

“Only because you genuinely know I’m serious about us. And I have the advantage of your former fan girl crush for Alan Rickman working in my favor. Which I am gleefully exploiting.``

I groaned with a grin, eyes rolling as I turned to face him. “Among other things.”

“Indeed.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for a few heated seconds and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. It definitely felt like he was leaning in to do so.

“Don’t go back to Cokeworth.” He whispered the words on my lips. “If they don’t fix the bed issue, stay in mine or find one in the castle.”

“Stay in your bed?” I asked with a cheeky grin.

“Cute. I mean my quarters. You can easily portal yourself inside after visiting them tonight and no one will be the wiser. Plus we can use it as practice for our future domesticity.”

“And what happens when the illustrious Headmaster decides to invade our space?” I question. “Because I’ve read the fics, Severus. We’re having a delightful moment between the two of us, maybe making out or on the verge of getting busy and then BAM: cockblocking codger shows up!”

“You act as though you couldn’t easily obliviate him.”

“Oh I could wipe his mind so blank he’ll be ready for Saint Mungos with no chance of recovery. That’s not a problem. I just want to know how confident are you that you can spin a good tale if he finds us not in a compromising position and I’m in Potter persona?”

“Very confident. I’m also very sure that you would warn yourself before something incredibly unfortunate would happen.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? I didn’t warn myself about the damn Orb and the shit show that went down as. When I get things set up for the next me I’m leaving a different message. ‘Not all orbs,’ my ass.” I blinked as I took note of our position and that at some point we’d taken to very subtly dance in place. I looked down at the space between us where our feet were and then up at Severus; down between us and then back again. He grinned at me. Actually grinned.

Seeing that was magic.

“Okay, I give in. I’ll stay but I’ll find my own quarters somewhere in the castle if Dumbledick and McGonnagal don’t fix this mess. If I can’t then I’ll share quarters with you. But no Potter persona unless necessary in your rooms.”

“I have a feeling that rule is in place for your sanity more than mine.”

“Some things should just remain dark fantasies in the back of my head.”

He didn’t push and I was glad for it. 

Chapter Text

Wielding my perception filter around my neck and Severus trusting me to follow behind him, I accompanied him through the final leg of his patrol. No one but me had apparently been out of bounds after curfew so this meant we headed to Severus’ quarters afterwards. They felt similar to Spinner’s End but not enough. Which to me spoke volumes. 

“I never would have thought Spinner’s End would ever feel more like home than Hogwarts,” I admitted. 

“Neither did I.”

There was a beat of sadness in that agreement and I just knew, deep in my gut, it was because of Dumbledick. I could not help but say that out loud and Severus gave a nod to confirm my thoughts. And boy did I feel myself filled with anger new at that.

A small hanging clock over the fireplace said that it was only past 1 am and I frowned since I felt it should have been later. Severus noticed my frown, asking after me. When I explained he gave a soft hum as he handed me a bottle of chilled fizzing peach water. “I have a small cold box in my kitchenette,” he explained when he handed it to me. He had made himself a cup of tea, not even seeming to blink that I was having what I was so late. “You’ve got a kitchenette?”

He nodded. “Some of us prefer not to call House Elves for every little thing, despite how eager they would be to fill that request. Plus some things aren’t available for them to bring.”

“Like bottles of fizzing peach water?”

He nodded again.

“That reminds me,” I said and produced the vial holding the drink sample from dinner. “The pumpkin juice tasted rancid. Ronald said it tasted fine to him so I suspect it’s been potioned. I didn’t know if I would see you before now so I was going to run my own set of tests.” He reached and took the sample from me. 

“Made friends with the youngest Weasley boy after all, did you?”

I gave an embarrassed smile and shrugged. “Wasn’t planned on but he’s… adorable in a way. Apparently Miss Radcliffe is his sponsor in the Wizarding Chess circuit and thus he’s got his own fame to deal with. Something I look forward to making happen when it’s my turn to get things set up. I didn’t expect to hit it off with him but he’s growing on me very quickly.”

“Like a fungus.”

I chuckled. “A sweet fungus who seems far more put together and confident in himself than canon. Speaking of canon, Draco apparently doesn’t share his parents' welcoming attitude and is an ignorant little prat.”

“Are you responsible for the rather untidy appearance he bore?”

“He insulted me multiple times, is apparently ignorant that the Malfoy family have a liege lady but very eager to hoard it over everyone that the Crabbes and Goyles are the Malfoy’s vassals, and he was borderline harassing Ronald in the train car trying to brown nose the poor kid. I teleported him out of the car and into the closest water closet just to give us some peace. I don’t know how he landed but from the look of his hair it wasn’t nice. Was he not supposed to know the Malfoys have made me their liege lady?”

“I don’t think it was a secret as much as he just didn’t pay attention after he found out he had vassals. Would it bother you if I mentioned this to the Malfoys the next time we speak?”

“Go ahead. I wanted to but I don’t know if it’s appropriate for me to write them. I’d feel like I’m tattling.”

“Would it make you feel better if I asked them to make the first move?”

“Sure. You know it’s so weird for me to be on good terms with them even though technically it isn’t me they know but future me. I wonder how much they know.”

“I’ll let you find that out yourself. As for this sample you’ve given me, what do you suspect it’s been infused with?”

“I can’t possibly tell you. It could be anything from a contraceptive potion to a loyalty enforcement solution if all my years of fanfiction reading is to be believed. It’s late though and I don’t know how long the test will take you so don’t do it tonight. I’ll figure out some way to get something to drink with my food until you have time to get the results. You should get some sleep. Things start at 6 am around here if I remember my lore correctly.”

He smirked. “True. However there is something I know that you don’t.”

I looked at him confused and he stood up from his seat. Strolling over to the chair I was sitting in, he leaned towards me, essentially trapping me in the seat as he put his lips close to my ear. “Your very presence energizes me enough that I don’t need to sleep tonight.”

He moved away to go test my sample, leaving me blushing like a forking rose bush with gooseflesh popping up everywhere.

“You enjoy doing that way too much!” I exclaimed to his retreating form once I had gathered my wits. Smug bastard was practically radiating it.

On the plus side though, I mused, at least he doesn’t seem plagued by god awful low self worth and deprecation. He was very confident in how he handled me. I was only slightly worried about that.

Putting away internal comparisons to this Severus versus fan-fiction tailored Snape versus canonical Snape, I went to snoop the books on his shelves while I waited. Not as full or organized as his shelves in Spinner’s End, there still were a variety of books from various authors - Magical and Non-Magical in almost equal measure. Some titles were glamoured; I could see the wispy edge of the spines similar to the charms prevalent in Lockhart’s books. But this hid the titles instead of luring people to investigate and read them. I decided against figuring out what the real titles were and investigated the area more. 

About fifteen minutes later, a wild Snape appeared from whatever the room was he’d gone to and I looked up from the couch I was lounging on.

He looked pissed. Well actually his face was stoic as a block of concrete but I could practically feel his anger. He handed me a rolled up piece of parchment silently before going over to a tray nearby that held several decanters. He poured himself a tumbler of amber liquid before downing the whole thing in one go.

“At the risk of being pedantic, that reaction tells me things are not good,” I stated as I watched him set the tumbler on the tray. I seriously thought he was going to have another but the one fortified him enough.

“You were correct: the sample showed faint traces of potions. Two to be exact: a loyalty potion and a contraceptive potion.”

That mother fucker.

“We would have to test the other tables’ jugs to see if they have the same composition,” he informed me. “The scroll will have a readout of tonight’s finding.”

I unrolled the item in question and read it.

Not enough to really kick in the effects on the loyalty potion but definitely enough to cause problems when built up in a person’s system. Especially if they’ve had it with every meal.

The stronger dosage was contraception potion and I could not stop from saying, “No wonder the wizarding public is having conception issues if he’s dosing the kids when they’re prepubescent. Where the fuck is he getting it and how did he convince the Elves to put it in the juice?”

“The Elves obey the Headmaster unless the orders involve harming themselves or a student outside of self-defense. Obviously they have been convinced drugging the children is not harmful. The biggest question is how long has he been doing this?”

“It doesn’t matter because it ends now,” I announced. “I’ll find the kitchens and speak with house elves; get them to tell me what they know. If they refuse to listen or are unable to discuss it with me, then I’ll be vanishing the potion from juice jugs at every meal for the next seven years. Let’s just hope this doesn’t start a rash of teen pregnancies.”

Chapter Text

As much as I want to say Severus decided at some point that night to seduce me during those hours before the castle started to wake, he didn’t. We just spent time together in his front room discussing what my goals were in terms of extracurricular activities for my first year at Hogwarts. He also reconfirmed how he was going to act and apologized for it ahead of time. I told him (and it was the truth) that I understood because he had a role to play.

“Once I fix everything and this whole mess is sorted, do you want to continue teaching?”

“Awfully optimistic, aren’t you?”

I made a face. “Would you rather me be pessimistic?”

“No. I prefer your confident self to the part of you that easily falls into negativity. Though I embrace both parts of your personality,” he added.

I smiled.

“But no I don’t believe I would continue teaching once this was over. At least not the way things are set up now. Perhaps if changes were made and I was only to teach fifth through seventh year students I would persevere in my teaching career. However, given that doesn’t look as though it would be implemented anytime soon, I would expand on my mail order potions business. Devote what time I wasn’t concentrating on my family to research and publishing.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little wider since that sounded perfect to me.

“What about you?”

I blinked. “Me?”

“Do you have anything specifically you want to do when all your tasks are completed?”

I take a few moments, trying to think of anything I would want to do that hadn’t been covered by future me. “Honestly? I can’t think of a damn thing,” I admitted. “There’s so much I apparently am going to do that I think I’ll just basically chill for the rest of my life after all is said and done. Hopefully you’ll stay a part of it for a long time.” I blushed and Snape smirked.

“Maybe we’ll travel for a time,” he suggested.

“That could be fun. They do say if you want to test your relationship to see if it lasts is to go traveling with someone. I just think it would be nice to see the world with you.”

“I would like that as well.”

I heard the clock over the mantle chime five times and I looked at it in shock. “What already?” I asked. I looked at him. “And you stayed up with me the entire time!”

“I did tell you that your being in your presence rejuvenated me. I will be perfectly fine to do my duties today.”

“You gotta explain to me how I’m essentially acting like an energy booster to you one of these days if that’s the case.”

“I will but I myself have been sworn to only tell you certain things at certain times.”

“Spoilers?”

“Spoilers.”

I groaned and the flumped back into my seat. “Of course.” I then sighed and sat back up. “I should get back to the Gryffindor common room. Breakfast starts when?”

“Officially at seven am but you can easily access the great hall fifteen minutes earlier than that. I look forward to seeing how Minerva handles your telling her you don’t have a room.”

“Well if the issue doesn’t get fixed by Professor McGonagal then I guess I’ll be connecting my own quarters somewhere in the castle.”

“You don’t wish to stay with me?”

“I am very tempted,” I admitted. “But it might be too risky all things considered.”

He nodded. “But you won’t retreat to Cokeworth?” he questioned.

“No. It would be very easy to do so but because you asked me not to, I won’t go back to Cokeworth until summer. Even if a certain Headmaster’s presence is sure to grind my gears,” I added with a grumble.

“I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

I got out of my seat and stretched. “Guess I’d better go. Think I’ll lounge a bit in the Gryffindor common room and play my Game Boy.”

“I will see you at breakfast.”

I slipped on my perception filter and left Snape’s quarters, transforming myself back to Hadriana Potter as I walked through the halls to Gryffindor Tower. I could have teleported inside the common room or even outside the Fat Lady’s portrait but it was going to be at almost two hours before I could get to the great hall. The Game Boy first gen could only provide so much stimulation in one sitting.

The guardian portrait was snoozing as I walked up the final length of stairs and then deactivated my perception filter. Waiting for a minute for her to wake up proved fruitless, thus I cleared my throat. When that didn’t work, I gave in to a whim and sent a slight stinging hex at her. I didn’t expect it to work but hilariously enough it did. Sent her jumping up in her seat and crying out in surprise, “What in the world?!” 

“Caput Draconis,” I said, looking completely innocent and it worked. She blinked at me a few times in confusion before opening the doorway to the Gryffindor common room without a word.

So apparently I can cast magic that affects the portraits. Put that away for later knowledge.

Empty common room greeted me and I found myself a sofa to lounge on. While I’d been walking back, I had decided to wait and see if Ron would get up early enough and travel down to breakfast with me. Plus I wanted to ask Neville if Trevor had settled in all right.

A good hour later Oliver Wood came down the stairs wearing what looked like muggle exercise wear. “Good morning,” I called from my spot.

He looked shocked. Not that surprising since I looked eleven years old, was essentially up before the ass crack of dawn, and just hanging in the common room.

“Potter?” he asked.

“That’s my last name, yes.”

“What are you doing up? It’s six in the morning.”

God fucking dammit save me from men with sexy voices. “Oh I never went to bed. Couldn’t find mine and so I hung out in here. You going on a run or something?”

“Yes, I’m captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. What do you mean you couldn’t find your bed?”

“My name wasn’t listed on any of the doors and when I told some of the older students so I could get help, they didn’t believe me. I’ll try telling Professor McGonagal about it during breakfast.” I stated all of this in the most calm voice I had without looking up from my game screen. “When we get my situation sorted, mind if I join you? SInce I don’t have access to my things right now I’d prefer not to get all sweaty.”

I could practically feel his confusion. “Uh, sure.” There was a pause. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” I heard him walk off and for some reason I had the biggest urge to roll my eyes. “Almost hoped he would check,” I said out loud.

There was a slow trickle of Gryffindors that started coming downstairs close to seven with the majority clamoring into the common room at seven thirty. Did I mention I think it’s ridiculous to send first year kids head first into this whole endeavor without giving us a few days of orientation or having a prefect or someone to show us the way to forking classes.

If I didn’t have a high opinion of the castle I would say it was a sly way for them to sacrifice children. One wrong move down a corridor and no one sees a kid again.

Holy shirt tales! Maybe that’s why Slytherins travel in groups?!

“I don’t think you’re supposed to lay on the furniture,” a girlish voice said. I looked up at Hermione Granger who was looking at me very intently. “Also I thought muggle technology doesn’t work in Hogwarts?”

I grinned at her. “Good morning, Miss Granger. Did you sleep well?” I asked, ignoring her question. 

“Yes, I did. I was ever so excited that I don’t know how I fell asleep but I finally did.” She looked to relax a bit but was still staring curiously at my Game Boy. “How about you?”

“I never found my room so I kipped in here. I plan on telling Professor McGonagal about it when I see her at breakfast.”

“You stayed all night in the Common Room?” she cried in shock, gathering attention from a few people who hadn’t left for breakfast. I shrugged. “There weren’t any other spare beds. And no one took me seriously when I asked for help from the older years.”

“What’s going on?”

Oh good. Ron finally came down. We could go to breakfast. And Neville was with him as well.

“Oh the castle didn’t assign me a place to sleep so I was in here. Good morning. Did you two sleep okay? How did Trevor settle in?”

Neville smiled and was about to reply but Ron interrupted with, “Are you telling me you don’t have somewhere to sleep?!”

“I’m going to get Professor McGonagal to sort it out at breakfast,” I assured him.

“But this means you haven’t been able to change your clothes! And where did you sleep last night? Did you even sleep?”

This beautiful boy asking all the right questions.

“It wasn’t so bad! Besides, I don’t usually sleep anyways. Let’s go to breakfast, come on!” I put my Game Boy away and headed towards the door that led outside.

As I walked off, I heard Neville ask Ron, “Does this mean she won’t be able to go to classes since her books and everything are in her luggage and not having a dorm means her luggage is somewhere else?”

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a bit of a feast of its own and despite how my meeting with McGonagal went, I enjoyed myself. We had all the makings of a traditional English breakfast available as well as some seasonal fruits available to eat. The pumpkin juice jugs were there again and I instantly vanished any potions that would have been mixed in with the juice. As long as I didn’t get too distracted that should fix the drugging issue for breakfast at least. As for my drink of choice, I conjured orange juice into my goblet.

And then proceeded to get asked by a very shy Ron if I would be able to do the same to his goblet.

“You don’t want the pumpkin juice?” I questioned.

“I don’t like drinking too much pumpkin juice. I was fine with it last night because it was a feast but I would have been fine with tea or water.”

“They should have tea or milk available for us to drink with our breakfast,” an older girl complained. “It’s always bloody pumpkin juice. Every meal.”

“Has anyone sent a complaint or petitioned for help from the Board of Directors? Obviously Dumbledore doesn’t care.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Granger tried correcting me and I held my hand up to silence her.

“I don’t care how great his reputation is: he’s done bad things in regards to me that I won’t get into and I don’t respect him. Not to mention yesterday I wasn’t actually sorted and I’m just sitting here because Ron and Neville are.”

“But he’s our Headmaster! He’s also Supreme Mugwump and head of the ICW! His positions demand our respect!”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

“You are incredibly rude and I’m glad you’re not my roommate,” Granger declared. Sticking her nose in the air, she took her plate and moved to a spot further down the table.

I raised my glass to her as she left before I glanced at Neville and Ron. “Either of you want to leave because I hate Dumbledore?”

Ron and Neville looked at each other and then back at me. “No,” they said at the same time.

“Good. Now let’s eat and Neville can finally tell me how Trevor settled in.”

That seemed to help diffuse any awkward energy. While we talked, I kept an eye out at the Teacher’s Table for Professor McGonagal who still hadn’t shown up which was annoying. I would have thought she’d have been one of the first people in the Great Hall for breakfast but apparently not. Snape was there though but we were too far apart to do more than notice the other was there.

I turned to the older girl from earlier and asked, “Doesn’t Professor McGonagall join us for breakfast?”

“Every year since I’ve attended she’s always already been at the Teacher’s Table by the time we all came in. This is the first time she hasn’t been here.”

That… didn’t sound good.

It was less good when the bell chimed eight am and still no sign of Gryffindor’s Head of House.

“What time do classes usually start?” I asked the girl from earlier who had introduced herself as Grace Pierce. 

“First period starts at eight forty five and each period lasts forty five minutes and you get fifteen minutes between classes as travel time.”

“We have no clue where the classes are actually at though,” I stated. “Well I know Potions happen in the dungeon but we don’t have actual maps or anything to point us where we should go, do we?”

Grace blinked as if she hadn’t realized that and nodded. “Most first years just ask ghosts for help but… now that I realize it, they’ve been strangely missing. You usually get introduced to the House ghosts at the Welcome Feast. Did you see any when you were outside the great hall waiting to come in?”

I glanced at Ron who answered instead of me. Grace frowned. “That’s odd. You usually can’t throw a stone without seeing a ghost around here.”

“You think whatever is keeping McGonagall away from breakfast also involves the ghosts being missing?” Neville asked.

“Be weird but this is the magical world,” I said. “Weird is the norm. I hope she shows up soon because I don’t know what our first class is or anything.”

“Not to mention your lack of room assignment,” Ron pointed out. 

“And you don’t know where your luggage is because you have no room,” Neville added.

“All very true statements,” I confirmed, pointing my knife and fork at the boys. I went back to finishing my food, waiting for any sign of McGonagall. I’ve watched the three other Heads of Houses pass out timetables and saw several students cross tables to converse with their friends. The time was continuing to tick down.

Then five minutes to the end of breakfast, in came McGonagall. She looked completely frazzled and out of sorts; like she hadn’t slept and her hair was a mess with her head hat free. It was a hell of a disconcerting sight. She looked like I imagine Dumbledore had after being teleported when he attacked my wards. But there was no reason for her to look that way that I could think of.

McGonagall came through a side door, a stack of what looked like timetables floating behind her. She then rushed down the aisle between us and the Ravenclaw table, timetables flinging themselves at students with little as to where they landed as long as they landed in front of them. 

It was absolutely disturbing and very anti-what I was expecting from Professor McGonagall’s reputation.

And you could forget getting her to stop for a moment to address my room problems because she was gone just as quickly as she came with no chance to get her attention.

I wasn’t the only student more than a little shocked as several Gryffindors looked confused and put out.

I eyed my time table, staring at the class arrangements. We had Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History four times a week (each a single block). Transfiguration was three times a week (two single blocks and one double). Astronomy three times a week with two blocks in the day hours and the expected one at midnight. Herbology was a three times a week single block class so that was just like the books. I mused that Charms the following morning was going to be a bitch for the poor kids attending. I didn’t see flying class listed so I assumed that would happen later in the semester.

Potions though… I was seriously disappointed to find we only had one double block of potions on Fridays in the morning.

I felt someone tapping my shoulder lightly and looked at Ron. “We need to go figure out how to get to the Charms classroom before we’re late,” he reminded me and I nodded. I got up from the table and followed him.

“Is something wrong?”

I sighed. “We only have one potions class a week,” I admitted. “I was looking forward to learning all about them! I wanted to see how much cooking knowledge can overlap with potions. You think we could have had at least one single block earlier in the week as well as the double on Friday! Also I’m not used to how the curriculum is arranged.”

“What do you mean?”

“All my classes before I came to Hogwarts were the same each day at the same time through the week. It’s how students in the United States do their schooling. But then again you usually have more teachers teaching at the school in America. They really do things differently.”

“And how would you know what schools in America do?” asked someone in a very self important voice. I looked at Granger, who had a hand on her hip and one on the strap on her handbag. “Because my guardian has experience with the American school system and she told me about it.” I turned my attention to Ron. “They have these things once or twice a year called Scholastic book fairs where they set up these shelves and displays full of books and you can buy all sorts of awesome ones. And they have catalogs you can order a lot of the same books they sell during the fairs! It’s so much fun!”

“I bet you’re making that up,” Hermione accused. I gave her a horrified look and demanded to know why I would do that. She had the absolute gall to say that since I was so obviously disrespectful to Headmaster Dumbledore that I more than likely was making up things to get attention. After all, they hadn’t had anything like those in her school before she’d come to Hogwarts.

“You went to school in America?” I asked. 

She sniffed disdainfully. “Of course not.”

I was really hoping to like non-canon Hermione Granger. But apparently she’s a stupid little bitch!

I turned so that I was fully facing her, a deep scowl on my face. “You know I realize you feel stressed because you weren’t born into the magical world and thus have a handicap to those who were. You feel a burning desire to prove yourself so that they won’t cast you out. That’s perfectly understandable. But calling me a liar when you know nothing about me or my life? Calling me a liar when I talk about something that doesn’t coincide with what you have experienced? Well that makes you an arrogant intolerable sort of ignorant swot who no one worth their time will become friends with. I pity you.”

Ronald, who I noticed was palming his wand stated, “Go find your own way to Charms, Granger, and leave us alone. Now!”

“Fine but don’t blame me you find out she’s telling tales!” And then she stormed off in the opposite direction we had been heading.

“She’s a bloody nightmare,” Ron muttered. “She’s honestly going to call you a liar when she admits she’s never attended an American school before?! Piss off!”

“You looked like you were about to hex her,” I observed.

“I was.”

I smiled at him, giving a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you for defending my honor. Now let’s hurry and find the Charms classroom. It will be a miracle if we’re not late.”

(It turns out we did get there late but Professor Flitwick was understanding and said he let it slide the first class for new students since they wouldn’t have any idea where the classroom was.) 

Chapter Text

Contrary to canon there were no whispers in the hall or awkward gawkers trying to get a peek at me. A few at Ron but mine (if any) were so on the down low I couldn’t pick up on them. Which made me confused. Not that I wanted to be an article of notice by the school population but the fact there wasn’t anything made me a touch concerned.

Also Flitwick didn’t squeal and fall back off his stack of books when he did roll call and came to my name. He didn’t do it to Ron’s name either. Actually he just did roll call with him addressing each student after we said “here” with an individual “Good Morning” which we returned. 

Granger managed to finally got to class halfway through it looking absolutely devastated and on the verge of tears. I wonder if she got caught by Filch accidentally trying to enter the third floor corridor like Harry and Ron did in the first book. It would explain a lot.

Although my concern on how lost she got was dramatically decreased to no longer giving a shirt tale when the girl sent me a very hateful look that I’m sure she had hoped would make me feel terrible. It didn’t work as well as she hoped.

Looks like I’m not going to be befriending her.

Oh well.

After our first class, Professor Flitwick held me back to have a small chat. He assured me I wasn’t in trouble but because my guardian (and I swear he gave me a knowing look as he said that) had such an important relationship with the Goblin Nation, he had been given special instructions to make sure my time at Hogwarts went well.

“Normally I wouldn’t be involved due to my position here but given your statuses I am willing to reach out to provide assistance as needed. So if you have issues, please allow me to help.”

“How much of my status is known?” I ask nervously.

“Those with ties to creature blood can feel the power and know you are not close to being an average human let alone a normal student,” he stated. “I don’t believe the news is circulating very widely throughout the Goblin people but I wasn’t told everything. Just enough. And last night’s ceremony results sat wrong with me as well as most of the other staff. If you need anything please do not hesitate to come to me and I will assist you as best I can.”

“I will. There’s actually a matter I need to speak to Professor McGonagall about as soon as I can but if I can’t I will contact you.”

“Please do.”

With that he sent me off and I felt a little more confident about my situation.

Now in reference to my earlier speech of getting around: I was honestly surprised that I didn’t have any problems finding my way around. This is a big forking castle with supposedly trick stairs and staircases that moved willy-nilly to deposit you where you often least needed it to happen.

I wasn’t having that problem. I also wasn’t having problems with the doors. I could easily identify the doors that weren’t actually doors by a slight blurring effect the door had. It was similar to the fake doors in the Diet Building level on Shin Megami Tensei III Nocturne. Pretty cool in my opinion.

Herbology was nice if a little muggy in the greenhouses. Apparently there were six greenhouses and they were divided by student years with number six being used for apprentices and NEWT Level students.

Guess I knew where Neville was going in the future.

Professor Sprout explained that tomorrow we needed to make sure those of us that had them should bring our work pinafores and gloves. Apparently we weren’t going to start getting down and dirty this first class. I was rather happy about that. Granger looked panicked when the teacher mentioned our personal pinafores and I would have felt bad for her being caught without that knowledge but I was still irritated with her attitude. It didn’t help that she acted like she had ants in her pants and was practically jumping up and down to answer a question - more than once blurting out the answer without being prompted. Lucky for us all Sprout didn’t ask too many but if this was a preview of how classes were going to go with her, she was not going to make friends.

And might find herself on the end of a scolding.

I realized I was really looking forward to seeing Severus deal with her.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went… well enough. As in canon, the room smelled heavily of garlic and Professor Quirrel’s fake stutter was right there making lessons difficult to listen to if one didn’t have the patience to do so. I knew it was all an act and I had half a mind to stay back after class to confront Voldemort. 

However my give a damn was not that busted nor was I all that keen to have one on one time with a parasitic wraith. At least so early in the school year. Plus I had every intention of trapping that damn bastard when he fled and I didn’t at this moment have the tool to do so.

You win this round, Moldy Shorts.

I had imagined History of Magic would be like very much as if we were lectured by a British Ben Stein. The purported low droning voice of Professor Binns could definitely put one to sleep if you weren’t careful. However that is not what happened.

What happened was we were missing a teacher altogether. No ghost and apparently Binns didn’t have a Teaching Assistant so there was zero oversight going on in HoM.

The utter ridiculousness that all the ghosts were AWOL including Binns and that HoM was basically no one at the helm was just… oy vey.

“What do we do in a class with no teacher?” someone asked. I recognized her as Hannah Abbot. For some reason a vast majority of people just looked in my direction. 

Weird.

“I guess the ones of us who actually want to learn can self study,” I offered. “Let’s hold off on reporting this right now since it might be a fluke but make sure we tell our next block’s professor what happened.”

“Obviously someone should go tell a staff member now, Potter,” Granger stated. “They should be notified immediately!”

“Fine!” I replied, waving at the door. “You go if you’re so keen. But if you get caught by Filch and he doesn’t believe you and assumes you are merely cutting class then that’s on you. I was just trying to make sure no one got in trouble. But you do you, Granger.”

She opened her mouth to say something before she closed it and sent another glare my way. Or maybe it was the same glare and I didn’t notice it had stayed on. 

“Careful, Granger: if your face freezes like that I don’t think even magic will fix it,” Ron said. I swear to god her eye gave a small twitch as she grumpily went about her studies and hopefully ignoring us all. 

“Do you want to look at any of my books?” Ron asked. “I assume yours are with your school things.”

“Yup and until I get my rooming issue sorted, I have no clean clothes or school stuff.”

“Rooming issues?” a voice piped up. I recognized it came from Hannah Abbot.

“Yes, apparently I don’t have a bed in Gryffindor tower,” I explained. The look of confusion by my classmates was awesome.

“But you were sorted into Gryffindor!”

“The hat wasn’t even near my head when it shouted a House so apparently Hogwarts and I both agree I wasn’t sorted.”

“Of course you were sorted, Potter!” Granger declared. “The Headmaster said you were!”

I ignored her, preferring not to rehash my previous statements. “Now I have to talk to Professor McGonagall to see if we can sort out my situation. Otherwise I’m in trouble.”

“Now that I look at you,” Lavender Brown, “You don’t have a house crest on your robes! All of ours changed when the Hat sorted us but yours hasn’t!”

I blinked and looked down. “Well I be darned! Holy Moses, you’re right! Nice catch, Brown!”

I genuinely meant that because I legit had not realized my robes were still the same as they had been pre-sorting.

“Well that proves it then,” Ron announced.

“That proves nothing other than her robes are faulty or she’s messed with Hogwarts magic,” Hermione exclaimed. “The Headmaster-”

“Granger, nobody was talking to you,” one of the Patil twins interrupted. “Everyone who isn’t blind could see there was something off about the whole ceremony when it came to Potter!”

“Even Malfoy had the Hat touch his head before it shouted Slytherin,” Neville added. “A-and it was barely there for a second.”

He meeped as Hermione turned her sour look on him. “You should all be studying!” she snapped, slamming her textbook closed. “I’m going to find a teacher!” She scrambled to get her things together and rushed out the door.

“She’s gonna get caught by Filch,” I predicted. “Just watch.”

I was right. I just didn’t know we would also lose house points on top of it. 

Hermione was quickly becoming the least liked member of Gryffindor and she wasn’t helping matters by blaming it on me.

Next time on I'm Just Here for the Life Experiences:

Chapter Text

You know how OG Snape had it out for Harry in canon?

Well apparently instead of Snape being the antagonistic figure in my life, I got McGonagall in his place.

It feels like the “Is this?” meme with the dude and the butterfly with equivalent exchange being the substituted words.

It didn’t start off bad though. I mean she didn’t start getting on my case during roll call. She looked like she finally had gotten time to put herself together again so I thought things were back to being under control. She gave her warning speech about how if anyone didn’t take things seriously we could leave her class and not come back. She did indeed transform her desk into pig and back again to show off her skills.

It genuinely seemed like things were going to be fine.

The first problem happened when we were all supposed to take out our text books and she noticed I didn’t have one and was sharing with Ron.

“Miss Potter, why aren’t you using your own Transfiguration textbook?” she asked with a disapproving frown.

“Well it seems like Hogwarts agreed with me that I wasn’t actually sorted last night so I don’t have a bed in Gryffindor tower and I don’t know where my things are, Ma’am,” I answered.

Her look deepened at me. “Two points from Gryffindor for lying to me and being unprepared for class, Miss Potter,” she proclaimed. “I expect you to have your things next class.”

I looked at her in disbelief while she turned and continued her lecture.

The next part where it was obvious she and I were not going to get along was when she was handing out matches and expected us to try to turn them into needles.

I raised my hand and asked with legitimate curiosity, “What kind of needle do you want us to go for?”

She blinked at me and frowned. “Miss Potter, would you please take this seriously before I kick you out of my class!”

“I am being serious. I need to know if you want this to be a medical needle with a syringe, an acupuncture needle, or a sewing needle,” I clarified. “There’s more than just one kind of needle and I don’t want to make the wrong one. Unless of course you’re wanting us to decide the needle type which-”

“Miss Potter!” 

The entire classroom froze at the tone in her voice as she snapped at me. “Obviously you are not interested in taking this seriously. ‘What kind of needle?’” She repeated my question with intense sarcasm before glaring at me. “Leave my classroom, Miss Potter, and don’t return until you act appropriately.”

I was not the only person looking at her in utter confusion. I even had a couple of Slytherins losing their masks for a moment.

“Ma’am, I can assure you I am taking this class very seriously and I don’t know what you mean by being inappropriate!” I insisted.

“Leave the class, Miss Potter. Now.”

Anger replaced confusion and I stood up. It did not escape my notice that Granger was barely concealing her glee at my misfortune, “If that’s what you wish for, Professor, then I will leave,” I said with saccharin politeness. As I was leaving the room, McGonagall decided to go on a side lecture about how I was an example of how students shouldn’t behave in her class and she would do the same to anyone else who decided to act like me. It took everything in my control to not turn around and force McG into her animagus form or turn her desk into a pile of manure. 

I also didn’t give into the urge to turn Granger’s matchstick into an earthworm.

Who knew Mcgonagall and Granger would turn out to piss me off more than Malfoy?

So yeah. I got kicked out of Transfiguration and it looks like I’m not going back until I’m forced to. Or at the very least until I get my things.

Which isn’t happening until I get a room.

Which obviously isn’t going to happen by talking to McGonagall if our interaction in class is any hint to go by.

So I have two options, I suppose. Number one is I go to Professor Flitwick and see if he can help. Or option two is I just say fuck it and go find a spare room for me to live in. Maybe a broom closet I can connect to my pocket dimension?

I decided to choose option one with two as my fall back.

Since the Transfiguration classroom was near a courtyard, I decided to wait for Ron by sitting outside. It was a lovely weather day so why not take advantage?

I was enjoying the sunny sky, slightly cool breeze, and lovely surroundings as I played my Game Boy on a bench when I sensed a presence come up to me. I looked down to where I sensed my visitor and came face to face with a beautiful albeit scraggly tabby cat with amber red eyes sitting and staring at me.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“You should be in class,” the cat told me through Anima tongue. “Oh Mister Filch!” She got up to leave and go find her guardian. So this was Mrs. Norris.

“I was kicked out for apparently being inappropriate,” I told her. “Which I wasn’t but Professor McGonagall has it out for me..”

The cat stopped in mid retreat and turned around to stare at me. “What did you just say, child?”

“I wasn’t sorted properly last night and so I don’t have my things,” I explained as I turned off my game. “Because I don’t have my things, I didn’t have my books and supplies so I lost two points for being unprepared and quote-unquote lying to a teacher. Then when I asked for a better description than just ‘a needle’ to change my matchstick in, she kicked me out for being inappropriate! If that doesn’t just cement the fact I don’t want to be in Gryffindor or her to be my Head of House, then nothing will!” I slid my Game Boy into my pocket. “So you’re the famous Mrs. Norris?”

“That I am. I suppose now that I take a good look at you, you’re the reason the ghosts have all gone into hiding?”

“Is that why they’re all missing?” I asked in shock.

“Indeed. It’s throwing quite a wrench into how things are around here.”

“In my defense, I had no idea that would happen and I don’t know how to fix it. I am very sorry for any inconvenience occurring,” I said to the cat who gave a small nod in acceptance. 

We chatted a few more minutes before Mrs. Norris went back to her rounds. It was very pleasant and I looked forward to more interactions with her.

Time passed (thankfully not at a crawl) and finally class let out. Ron and Neville found me and proceeded to regale me with what I missed after McGonagal kicked me out. “It felt like she was Granger’s fan girl with how much she was praising her and letting her get away with just shouting out answers,” Ron informed me as we walked towards the Great Hall for lunch. “It was a nightmare! At least the other teachers gave us an opportunity to reply but Professor McGonagal just picked Granger no matter what.”

“I couldn’t concentrate between her favoring Granger and complaining about you,” Neville admitted. “And she wouldn’t listen when one of us tried to tell her it wasn’t your fault.”

“Well I appreciate you trying,” I thanked them, giving them both a pat on the shoulder. 

“You were legitimately wondering what kind of needle she wanted you to transfigure the matchstick into, right?”

I looked at Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil who had joined our group during the walk. I nodded and explained, “I swear that wasn’t me being silly. There’s like three different needles types I know and she didn’t specify or give us a visual example of what she wanted us to do! I needed a baseline to go with. That was my only problem with the instructions.”

“Have you done transfiguration before?”

“A few times. It was mostly altering things into different shapes. Like there was one time I wanted to use sprinkles on cupcakes but all we had were standard ones so I transfigured them into hearts and unicorns.”

Not a lie because I had actually had to do this. It just wasn’t in this life.

“Did transfiguring them alter the taste?” Neville asked.

“Not that we could tell,” I answered. “But then again sprinkles don’t usually have much flavour do they? They’re mostly for adding texture and extra aesthetic.”

“That’s true,” Brown agreed. “How did they look?”

“Shockingly they were very pretty and not misshaped. I could do it again if we had some on hand. I’ve also transfigured tree leaves into other different species of tree leaves one time because we were making a wreath to hang on our door. The muggle craft store ran out of maple and the local park has issues with taking leaves. They’re very protective.”

Which was very true. For some unknown reason there was an actual sign in the park at Cokeworth that said, “Please leave the trees alone. They are very important to us.” Perfect opportunity to use a tree pun and they didn’t use it.

I spent the rest of the walk to lunch describing the muggle craft store and all its wares since Lavender seemed interested in knowing more. Lucky for me I had actually gone to one in London on a whim once and so I could describe a recent one and not one I knew from the States. Although thank goodness I did because I’m not sure I could handle too many questions right now. I would have answered them but there probably would have been a lot.

Or maybe not. Moot point now.

Lunch was a choice of soups and sandwiches with potato crisps (almost called them chips). I covertly banished any potions in the Hall’s drink jugs, leaving only juice in them and filled my drink cup with water.

“You did it again?” Ron asked in shock.

“Yup.” I took a sip of the nicely chilled water. “I wanna see if I can change it to something else.”

“What did she do?” Neville asked curiously.

“Hadriana can fill her glass with water without using her wand,” Ron explained. “She did it last night at the feast and this morning at breakfast.”

“You can do wandless magic?!” Neville squeaked in shock. I’d hoped no one had heard him but several people looked in our direction.

“What can Potter do?” Finnegan questioned and I waved my hands in front of me as I was about to deny anything. Neville was about to repeat what Ron had told him but Ron (like a fucking boss!) slapped his hand over Neville’s mouth and exclaimed, “Neville just got surprise hiccups and it sounded like he said something. Let’s enjoy our lunch!”

This boy is my new best friend.

Chapter Text

I really did not want to talk to Professor McGonagal at all about my room situation even if I did initially think I should just talk to Professor Flitwick after the Transfiguration class debacle. But I did tell the classmates who have spoken to me that I would make an attempt to speak with her.

Spoiler Alert: I should have just gone straight to the Board of Governors for assistance and cut out both McG and Dumbledick.

It pisses me off to even have to reflect on this but you all would probably really like to know what went down, wouldn’t you?

…

Fine.

The things I do for you all.

You better appreciate me having to tell you this giant pain in the ass. (Yeah it ticked me off so badly my filter’s come off. I hope you’re happy.)

So during History of Magic, I decided to look back at our schedules and see if McGonagall had written down her office hours and that way I could more or less confront her on my living arrangements during then.

They were not. 

So when we went up to the common room for Ron and the others to drop off their bags, I looked at the notice board to see if she’d posted her hours on it.

They were not there either.

I even had Ron double check the board to see if I had missed the notice somehow.

Once again: I had not.

So I only had one choice in front of me. I had to talk to her during dinner. Which I really didn’t want to do because a) I didn’t want to speak to her at all after what happened in class and b) I’m sure she would have appreciated being able to eat her meal in peace.

But that wasn’t going to happen because I don’t know when her office is open for students to talk to her about business.

She was sitting at the Staff Table when we all filed in for dinner and I decided to get the chat over before I sat down with my friends.

“Professor McGonagall?”

She may not have been smiling before she saw me but she definitely was not looking happy to see me when I called her name. “What is it, Miss Potter?” in a cold voice.

“Ma’am, I need to speak with you-”

“And you decided, instead of approaching me during my office hours, you should interrupt my dinner?”

I screwed up my mouth back into that same saccharin sweet one I used earlier. Meanwhile my rage was growing again. “Well Professor, I couldn’t find your hours listed anywhere so I had no choice but to approach you now since it’s kind of an emergency.”

“Nonsense, Miss Potter. My hours are listed at the top of your schedule. Or perhaps you’re too busy thinking of ridiculous questions to ask your teachers?”

Smile is now gone as I stared at her unimpressed. “My question in class was not ridiculous. And I did not appreciate you going on a tangent about me not taking your class seriously. I wanted to know what kind of needle you wanted since I have experience with different ones. As for your listed office hours,” I couldn’t help myself and slammed my schedule down in front of her so hard the drink goblets shook a little, “perhaps you can point out where it’s written down?”

She fucking sneered at me. “3 points for disrespectful attitude to a teacher and disrupting mealtime, Miss Potter. I suggest you go eat dinner now.”

“Ma’am I can assure you I have been very respectful to you despite the antagonism you’ve been throwing my way,” I insisted, my fake smile not even trying to remain. “And if you would look at the schedule you haphazardly threw at all of our table this morning you’d see you didn’t write down the hours in question which is why I had no choice but to disrupt dinner. Believe me, Professor, I would rather not have to speak to you at all after you humiliated me in front of my classmates and kicked me out of class today. But since you are Head of Gryffindor House, I have no choice but to speak to you about my problem.”

“That will be another 2 points, Miss Potter.”

“For what?”

“For disobeying a teacher’s order. I told you to go eat your dinner and you refused.”

I grabbed my schedule and rolled it up, glaring daggers at her. “Fine. Since you won’t listen to me, I’ll be taking up my rooming issue and any future problems I have directly with the Board of Directors. Enjoy your dinner, Professor.”

I shot her a final forced smile while I very much held back the desire to tell her I hope she choked on her food. Before I left the table, Professor Flitwick called me. Anger receding just a touch, I turned to him. “May I see that, Miss Potter?” He motioned to the parchment I was holding.

I handed it to him and he looked it over. “Five points to Gryffindor for pointing out an administrative error,” he announced. “Her hours are indeed not written down here. I will discuss this matter with your current Head of House and we will get this fixed. Meet me in my office after dinner and we can discuss the issue you were unable to speak with McGonagall about.”

I was just about to thank him when the woman in question shouted, “Miss Potter! I have already taken house points from you! I will have you serve detention if you do not stop bothering the staff and go eat your dinner with your housemates!”

The din of the Great Hall had very much halted as almost every student’s attention was on us. I swear to god my eye was twitching and I could feel the power under my skin wanting to slap her. What the fuck was wrong with this woman?! What was she trying to do: get a head start before Year 5 and get the title of most annoying bitch before Umbridge shows up? Flitwick spoke up before I could give in. “It’s quite alright, Deputy Headmistress. I was the one who called Miss Potter over here and have been keeping her from her meal.”

“Be that as it may, Filius, Miss Potter needs to go to the table and eat with her peers.”

I’d pretty much lost whatever appetite I had because of this bullshit and informed the two professors, albeit far more politely than that. McGonagall looked even angrier but Flitwick interrupted anything she would have said by insisting we head to his office to continue our conversation.

We escaped before she could do anything about it.

“I’ll have a house elf bring you a plate of dinner so you can eat while we talk,” he promised. He didn’t look as jovial as he had at the start of dinner and I apologized as best I could. But he waved it off saying it wasn’t my fault and Minerva had acted not only out of character but ill befitting. “She’s not normally like this,” he swore. “She’s always been stern but this? This is something else. Maybe if we have enough time after we talk about your problem you would be so kind to tell me how your class with her went?”

Didn’t sound like it was a bad idea so I agreed. 

Jeebus, I hope that didn’t come off as ominous.

When we were finally in Flitwick’s office, he offered me a seat on a chair and called a house elf. He ordered me a dinner plate and the house elf popped off. He transfigured a book into a tray table and set it in front of me as the elf came back with the plate. When they went to place it in front of me, they happened to look at me and then dropped the plate; a noise of shock coming from them.

My poor plate.

“Magic’s Lady!” it squealed before dropping onto its knees and then burst into tears. “Oh Magic’s Lady is here at Hogwarts! She blesses Hogwarts with her visit! Oh Mimsy is not worthy to be in her presence!”

Oh god.

Just then two more elves popped in, probably because they sensed their compatriot’s distress. They saw Mimsy, saw the mess my plate left and then looked at me. The first one suddenly turned into Mimsy 2.0 (down on their knees and crying) while the other seemed frozen in their spot. 

Neither I nor Flitwick knew what to do.

Flitwick’s office was a good size but with House Elves starting to pop in more and more to check on their comrades before looking at me and going either catatonic from shock or bawling their eyes, I had to do something quick.

“Okay!” I yelled as loudly as I could. “Everyone, just take a time out and stop for a second!”

The room immediately stilled, the only sound soft sniffling as some of the elves tried to get themselves under control. I sighed in relief. “That’s better.” I exhaled. “Hi, hello. Yes, I am Magic’s Proxy but here while attending Hogwarts I am called Hadriana Potter. I expect you all have questions and I really need to speak with you all about things happening at Hogwarts, however right now there are other issues I need to handle as well as Professor Flitwick and I need to eat dinner. I plan on going to the kitchens tonight and having a meeting with all the Hogwarts Elves available I can. Until then please go about your normal business but do not let Dumbledore know anything I will discuss with you or where I am if he asks about me. Is this clear?”

The echoing “Yes, Lady” was almost disturbing.

“Good. Now Mimsy?”

The elf in question squeak before replying. I gave her my best comforting smile. “Let’s try and deliver dinner again without the accident caused by fright.”

“Y-Yes, Lady,” they squeaked and every elf disappeared from the room. Professor Flitwick adjusted his spectacles as he made obvious attempts to process what he just witnessed. “I am beginning to understand why I was chosen to assist you while you remain at Hogwarts, Miss Potter,” he said after a few minutes. “Obviously I will need to call you Miss Potter while in public but is there any way you want me to address you should we speak privately?”

“I have no preferences. Honestly I’m trying to get used to all the titles and it’s more than a little nerve wracking that so much is happening and seeming to go wrong.”

Mimsy appeared with a tray holding food, a drink goblet filled with water, and utensils to eat with. A table magically popped in front of me and she set the tray on it bowing low. I thanked her and she seemed to tear up. “Mimsy will do anything for Magic’s Lady,” they stated with words that felt like a vow. “Please call Mimsy when you are finished with your meal or you need anything else.” They then disappeared. 

I proceeded to eat my dinner while telling Flitwick not just a review of my first and possibly only transfiguration class but also my rooming issue and how I had no trust in being able to get assistance to fix it from McGonagall and absolutely refused to go to Dumbledore. “I hope I can tell you this in confidence without it getting back to the Headmaster, Professor Flitwick, but I plan on bypassing Dumbledore and petitioning the Board of Governors for a resorting. If they will listen and ask for proof that it’s needed they can tour the dorms so they can see for themselves I have no bed in Gryffindor Tower.”

“Given your obvious distrust and problematic interactions with both Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagal, your actions will be understandable. May I ask what House you would prefer to go to?”

“Hufflepuff.”

“A good house. Though I find myself wishing you might qualify for Ravenclaw so that I can help you better should you require it, the Badgers is not a terrible choice.”

“If I had a greater desire to know things, I’d probably choose Ravenclaw. But it shares a problem with Gryffindor.”

He tilted his head. “And that is?”

“I really don’t want to live in a tower.”

Chapter Text

Finding out I could teleport within Hogwarts was a pleasant surprise once I was done talking to Professor Flitwick. Either Hogwarts liked me enough to let me or I was seriously OP. I chose Hogwarts liking me because I didn’t want the overblown ego.

I warped back to Gryffindor tower after dinner, deciding to meet the House Elves after curfew when I went wandering again. That way after I converse with them I could maybe come across Severus and then spend time with him again.

Hey: I’ll take as many chances to spend with him as I can. You don’t like it, stop witnessing my memories.

The common room was crowded and I had several people come to me when they spotted I was back.

Questions of concern to me were answered with a “I’m fine” and Lavender asked if Professor Flitwick was going to help me with my rooming situation. Padma stated that after dinner everyone who could had checked the entire girl dorm side and no one could find a room with my name on it. “You are definitely not in trouble now with anyone who matters,” Lavender said. “Also Granger tried to be smug and rant about you losing house points and causing trouble for McGonagal but no one wanted to listen to her so now she’s up in her bed sulking.”

“The older students are concerned because Professor McGonogal is acting erratically from what they know her normally to be,” Neville informed me. “Especially with a member of Gryffindor house.”

“Add in the fact you seem to be the only one she’s being set off on, people are gossiping. Not just Gryffindor house either,” Lavender added.

I was in a state of ambivalence at this news. I both didn’t care but was also worried I was being gossiped about. “Well I can’t do anything about the gossip so I’ll just ignore that,” I informed the group. “My big concern is that I still don’t have my things. Which means I’m going to be wearing the same outfit for the third day in a row and I still don’t have my school books or my pinafore for Herbology. Professor Flitwick said that if someone wanted to, he'd turn a blind eye to me sharing someone’s books in class.”

“You can borrow mine,” Ron said in a tone that broke no argument. “We’re sitting next to each other anyways.”

I thanked him and then thought of something. “Does Hogwarts have a school store?”

The kids blinked. “School store?” Ron asked.

I explained the function of a school store as I knew it. Ron then got Wood’s attention and asked if there was a school store. Wood shook his head and said, “You can owl order supplies from Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley if you have order forms or a catalog but we don’t have anything like a store. Would be nice if we did have one of those since it would be easier for everyone.”

“So in other words I have zero access to school supplies until we get my things or the first Hogsmeade weekend and get an older student to buy my stuff for me,” I groused.

“You’ll be fine for the first week of classes,” Grace Pierce assured us. “First years don’t get homework until week two of the first semester. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.”

“Hopefully my room situation will be fixed by then. Still gotta figure out clean clothes.”

That seemed to ignite something in Lavender because (I kid you not) she grabbed my hands and with an excited gleam in her eyes, she insisted I try on some of her things to see if anything she had looked good on me.

“I’m only an inch taller than you but we look to be the same size,” she said as she basically dragged me up to her room. 

Which was also where Granger was.

“What are you doing bringing her in here?” Granger asked in the most snotty haughty tone I have ever heard in real life. 

“ We are letting her borrow some clothes to change into until she can get her room situation sorted,” Parvati stated, her tone challenging.

“I don’t want her in here,” Granger stated.

“Two against one. And it’s bad form to leave a fellow student in distress,” Lavender countered, already starting to go through her things. “And don’t take this the wrong way, Potter: but you’re the Girl-Who-Lived. I’m not giving up this opportunity to get to dress you up!”

“No offense taken. But if we do this when we’re older and still on good terms and make up gets involved, please be careful if it’s anything involving the eyes.”

“Deal!”

What then followed was a rather fun evening minus the whole menacing aura coming from Granger’s direction. Seriously, what was wrong with her? She was decent and friendly enough early on in our acquaintance but it’s like she -

Oh lord. Maybe she was more susceptible to the loyalty potion than normal and my disrespect to Dumbledore triggered a switch?

“May we call you by your first name?”

I blinked and looked at Lavender and Parvati, who looked kind of nervous. I gave permission saying, “If we stay friends in six months you can call me Anna. Thanks to those books that were written about me I am now put off my nickname of Haddy.”

“Brilliant! Okay you can wear my night set tonight and Parvati’s button up and skirt part of the uniform set tomorrow and if you need to borrow clothes again, you'll wear Parvati’s nightgown tomorrow night and one of my spare sets next. Oh! Do you prefer to shower before bed or in the mornings?”

“Before bed usually.”

Lavender handed me her night set. “They have spare towels in the room outside the showers as well as some soaps. Your hair looks clean enough right now but you can borrow my shampoo if you want it?”

“That’s okay. Thank you Lavender, Parvati. This is really generous.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you planning to sleep in the common room again?”

I shrugged. “No where else to go. Those couches are comfy and I happen to know how to cast a Warming Charm if it gets chilly.”

We all glanced at the fourth bed in the dorm which was bare as hell. No pillow, blanket, sheet, or even curtains were hanging on it. Definitely couldn’t crash on that. 

I had my shower, changed into my borrowed nightclothes, and deposited my dirty clothes into the hamper for students. Yes, before you worry, my clothes had my name written on them. I did follow some rules.

I went to wish Lavender and Parvati good night. Lavender looked at me and asked, “Do you want to borrow my hairbrush?”

I shook my head and held out my bag. “Already did mine,” I informed them. Thankfully that was an item I normally had on hand and not just packed away with the rest of my things. “See you guys in the morning.”

“Why are you holding a towel?” Granger asked snottily.

“Because I’m going to transfigure it into a blanket to cover myself up with,” I replied. I did not add a Snape-like ‘Obviously’ to that.

“Like anyone could believe a first year student is going to be able to do that,” the bushy harried girl retorted. “You really should stop lying.”

“Call me a liar one more time, Granger, and I will set your hair on fire. Wordlessly and without my wand. It’ll be a pain afterwards since you’ll have something new to complain about me but maybe the point will get across then. Brown, Patil. I bid you both a good night. Pleasant dreams.”

“Night,” both girls chorused.

Now I would like to emphasize that my comment about turning the towel into a blanket was not a lie. I did actually have plans to do so. Those did not change. Once I was done with my mission of talking to the House Elves I was coming back to the common room and chilling out.

I also was going to avoid Snape tonight. It feels weird when I think about interacting with him in my child form. Only weird for me because I have very inappropriate fantasies but we’re going to ignore that those exist.

Okay, I need to focus now. Time to talk to some House Elves and get them to stop poisoning the students.

Chapter Text

I wanted to make sure everyone headed to bed before I took off and so I sat on my chosen sofa, transfiguring the towel into a blanket about the thickness and size of a twin bed sheet. Not a really thin one but more of the jersey knit type that can regulate your temp well. Honestly I wished I could have turned into a micro-plush throw and give it different designs, but I was only using this as a blanket temporarily. I’d probably have to revert it back to a regular towel after tonight so it would pretty much be a waste of time.

It was annoyingly slow for the common room to clear out and it had hit midnight by the time the last Gryffindor went to bed. I guess as long as you were actually in the dorms, you didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with curfew.

Which was good to know whenever I could get my room situation fixed.

I really hoped I got my wish and got to go to Hufflepuff.

However, if things didn’t get fixed I didn’t know what I’d do. I had promised Severus that I wouldn’t go back to Cokeworth and I would stay at Hogwarts. I suppose I could just wander until I found a room I could transfigure into quarters.

That was if Hogwarts wouldn’t be offended since she was sentient in her own way. 

Cross that bridge when it happens and all that.

My waiting for the room to clear out had a hitch in it when I realized it was going to be a while as Tuesdays nights had third and sixth years for their night bound astronomy classes. Which meant there would likely be way too many people milling about the common room for me to slip out unnoticed without magic. 

Trying to slip away without noticing would have also been a problem because somehow I would have to have them believe I was lying on the sofa this whole time. I became very glad I’d taken to teaching myself shadow clone jutsu from Naruto again.

I got up, went back to the bathroom, cloned myself, and put on the perception filter. Afterwards I followed the clone back to the common room, watched them get settled on the couch beneath the sheet and then made my way out into the castle to get to the kitchens where the House Elves were.

About fifteen minutes after I hit the ground floor and the use of a spell of my own design to lead me to the kitchens, I made it to the painting of the bowl of fruit near the Hufflepuff common room underneath the great Hall. “Okay so I tickle the pear and the green door handle will appear,” I recalled aloud.

Success.

I pulled open the painting using the handle and stepped inside to a flurry of activity. There were quite a few house elves roaming about - the late hour having no effect on their activity level. I took off my perception filter, the door closing behind me with a soft but firm motion and just observed for a little while, not keen on interrupting the hard work in front of me.

Though it wasn’t long before someone noticed my presence. Someone (possibly Mimsy) exclaimed, “Magic’s Lady!” in a delighted voice. I swear the whole room stopped as every house elf currently present halted their actions to look at me.

It was rather daunting.

“Good evening,” I greeted.

The echoing “Good evening, your ladyship” was a slight improvement than if they’d said “magic’s lady” again. Still reminded me of the little aliens from Toy Story going, “the claw”.

“Okay so I’m not going to lie: I have no idea what I’m doing,” I admitted. “Do I talk to you as a whole or is there a representative?”

A wizened looking elf came forward. Though they appeared in better condition than I remember seeing Kreacher or Dobby in the films, wearing a clean cream coloured pillowcase with a solid navy almost black apron over it, the elf gave off an air of seniority and their eyes were a bit cloudy. “I am the oldest Hoggy-warts elf,” they informed me. “My name be Temps. Hogwarts elves talked of you arriving. The ghosts are hiding.”

“How do you do, Temps,” I greeted. I held my hand out. “It is good to meet you. Are you the head elf?”

Temps stared at my hand, eyes widened further than they had been. They hesitantly took my finger and shook it. “Temps overlooks manager elves and when Headmaster gives orders it’s to Temps.”

“I see.” So Temps was essentially Manager of all the department heads. “As Magic’s Lady, how much power do I have over the elves of Hogwarts, Temps?”

“What do you mean?” Temps tilted their head in curiosity.

“If you were given an order by the Headmaster and I gave you an order that countered Dumbledore’s, who would the elves actually obey?”

“Magic’s word is law and greater than the Headmasters. Founders orders are greater than Headmaster’s but there be no Founders to give orders. If Lady wants us to do something, we do.”

That made things easier.

“How long have you worked for the castle, Temps?”

“Temps started working for Hoggy-warts when Headmaster Dippet was installed, Lady.”

“And did he implement the mass tampering of the pumpkin juice?”

“No. That was Dumblydore’s orders after he came to power. Until then we had different juices and teas available for the students. Now it’s only pumpkin juice with the potions inside.”

“Is he forcing you to put the potions in when you’re preparing the food?”

Temps slightly pulled on an ear, a nervous feeling coming off them. “Elves had no choice but to do Headmaster’s bidding. No one else higher to tell us no.”

I crouched down so I was at an easier eye level. “I’m not judging, Temps. I know that you have to do things you may not want to, but I need to know how bad it is. The potions are hurting the students and can cause problems with their bodies. I need to know if I have to purge the juice itself or if I can just destroy the potions.”

Temps shoulders drooped. “Pumpkin juice comes in untreated like normal pumpkin juice. We add ins the potions Dumbledore tells us during meal preparation. It’s his orders.”

“Well now it stops,” I stated. “You will no longer potion the pumpkin juice. Take me to the potions so I can destroy them.”

Temps continued to be relieved as they led me to the storage place. I atomized the contraceptive and loyalty potions. “Does he have you spike anyone else's drinks?”

“Teachers’ drinks are left alone normally. Hasn’t had any order to change that.”

“If it does, let me know immediately.”

Temps bowed in agreement.

“Is there anything else he has you do that was implemented after he was placed in charge? Has he ordered you to add anything to dishes?”

“No, Lady. Food is untouched.”

“Make sure it stays that way. If he gives you an order, I want to know it as soon as possible. Just use caution when telling me - I need to keep him ignorant for as long as possible.”

Temps nodded. The next hour was spent discussing how things worked for the house elves and I found out the lore behind Nitwit, Blubber, Oddiment, and Tweak. Apparently they were the elves in charge of overseeing the tables in the Great Hall and making sure the meals were teleported up there for meals and feasts. I found out there were about thirty elves (not counting Temps) working in Hogwarts: eighteen in the kitchens, six who worked in laundry, and six who worked in housekeeping. Those six worked with Filch helping clean the castle with primary focus on cleaning the common rooms. I had thought there would have been at least 50 elves employed-slash-working here but Temps assured me that though there was room for more the elves weren’t overworked and had plenty to do. “Ifs more elves come to live we welcome them but we’re all comfortable, Lady,” Temps assured me. “No one is abusing us and we have a Union. Been established since Eighteen hundreds.”

Well that was interesting to know. “Temps, are the elves aware that I wasn’t sorted?”

Temps nodded. “They are noting that a student’s things are unassigned. We keep it safe until Lady can find her place.”

“Yes, well I’m having trouble finding myself a place as it were and I need access to my things soon. Do you think it would bother the housekeeping elves if I set myself sleeping quarters somewhere in the castle until I’m actually sorted?”

“The Lady needs rooms.” It wasn’t a question. “We talk to Bowl.”

“Bowl?”

A pop sound and before me was a house elf wearing a floral handkerchief on their head and a navy blue pillowcase. “Magic’s Lady calls?” they asked with a bow.

“Apparently I need to speak with you to get me a temporary room until I have a permanent situation?”

Big blue eyes gazed at me for a few minutes but they didn’t say anything in response for a good minute or so. It was getting unnerving and Temps snapped Bowl’s name in irritation. Bowl blinked their eyes in surprise and I swear their face went green at the cheeks. “Sorry, sorry,” they squeaked. “Lady wants a place to sleep and access her things, yes?”

“Until I can get the Board of Governors to help me become properly sorted,” I confirmed.

“Bowl will help. Is Magic’s Lady done with Temp?”

I glanced down at Temp. “I can’t think of anything but the potions that had me worried. But if Temp has anything they need from me?”

Temps shook their head. “Nothing now. Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

I looked at Bowl. “Then I guess my time is with you now, Bowl.”

Bowl held out their hand, saying, “Bowl will show you the places fit for Magic’s Lady to stay in.”

That… should not have felt as ominous as it did.

Chapter Text

Holy shirt tales it was like I was apartment hunting in the dead of night.

Like there were apparently a lot of spare apartments in this place just waiting for someone to forking take up residence. I mean I know Hogwarts is a castle but you really don’t comprehend the scale of it unless you’re going through it.

No temporarily renovating a classroom for me.

I chose a really nice apartment on the third floor. Corridor on the right hand side not the left. I wasn’t going to get involved with the Philosopher’s Stone nonsense if I could help it and the only reason I chose a place on the third floor was because I really enjoyed the view from the windows and the ensuite had this beautiful tilework in the ensuite and kitchenette going for it that I hadn’t seen in the others. A kind of deep purple and white that I immediately fell in love with.

I knew I was going to mourn leaving it once my sorting situation was fixed. But maybe I could keep it as backup quarters in case dorm life got too overwhelming? There is the risk of Book Two and Book Four’s ostracism happening to me despite my hopes of circumvention.

Don’t think about that now. Get through this year first.

Bowl delivered my things that the elves had been holding for me and I went to work getting everything I needed organized. I was going to have to get a bit of furniture to help fill out the front room but (and I had to remind myself) that was if my dorm situation wasn’t fixed by the Board of Governors.

The quarters did come with some furniture besides a bed and once I had completed my unpacking I sat down at the desk and started penning my letter to the BoG. In the middle of my first draft, I heard a soft pop and looked to see Mimsy with a sheet set floating behind her.

“Mimsy would like to make your bed, Magic Lady,” the elf requested and I nodded, telling her that was fine. I glanced at my pocket watch noting the time. “It’s almost four am,” I mused.

“Magic’s Lady should get some sleep,” Mimsy suggested.

“I would if I needed it,” I informed her. “But my body doesn’t require sleep to function. I only sleep if I want to. Plus I have to get this letter written.”

“Would Magic’s Lady like something to drink? Mimsy will get her whatever she wants! All she has to do is ask and Mimsy will answer!”

“That’s very kind of you,” I replied to the very eager looking elf, “but aren’t you getting off shift soon?”

“Helping Magic’s Lady is more important than regular duties,” Mimsy stated with fierce conviction. “Mimsy wants to assist Miss however she can.”

I looked at her. “You know your reaction when you first saw me was understandable? I’m not mad you freaked out. In fact I was more worried about you than anything.”

Mimsy blushed. “Lady is kind. That’s why Mimsy wants to help whenever she can.”

“You might not have to do that much to help me out with.”

“Mimsy doesn’t care,” the elf responded with the conviction from earlier. “Mimsy just would really like to help Magic’s Lady.”

“I’m not going to change your mind at all, am I?”

Mimsy furiously shook her head and I sighed. “Okay. Breakfast will be in a few hours but I could go for something to drink. Would you be kind and bring me some tea, please?”

“Does the Lady need sugar, lemon, or milk?”

“Some sugar and milk, thank you.”

Mimsy popped off with a happy smile and I shook my head. In a few minutes, Mimsy returned with a tea tray that slid comfortably on my desk without taking up too much space. “Please call Mimsy if you needs anything,” Mimsy insisted. “Mimsy really wants to help.”

“I will,” I promised. “This is fine for now though. I have to finish my letter and then get back to Gryffindor tower soon. You can get back to your regular duties, Mimsy. Thank you again.”

Mimsy looked reluctant to leave but did so.

Task and tea were finished with fifteen minutes to spare getting back to the Gryffindor Common Room and switching out with my clone. No one had really bothered the “me” that had been on the sofa so it was a clean replacement. I also had the forethought to grab what I would need for the day so I wouldn’t have to borrow Parvati’s clothes and I was absolutely going to say the House Elves helped if anyone asked. I would be keeping the new quarters a secret though until necessary.

Oliver Wood once again popped into the common room and wished me a good morning before heading out for his morning run. I wondered if he wasn’t dragging the other team members with him because the term just started.

At 7 am, changed and ready for the day, I brought the used pjs up to the first year girls’ dorm room. I could hear movement and I knocked on the door. After a minute, the door opened and I came face to face with Granger, whose face twisted when she saw me. “What do you want?” she snapped. Rude.

“Is Brown awake? I need to know what to do with the pjs.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something rude again, but Lavender spoke up before she could. “Potter? Is that you?”

“Yes, I’m here to return the pjs,” I called. “And you’re supposed to call me Hadriana now!”

Lavender, voice sheepish yet insistent, told me to come into the room. I passed by the belligerent Granger and into the room where an obviously sleepy Lavender and Parvarti were attempting to get mobile for the day. Lavender pointed to the clothes hamper with her name plate on it that the dirty clothes were supposed to go when you were ready to be cleaned.

“Well that’s blessedly convenient,” I observed.

Parvati blinked. “You found some clothes?” she asked, slight disappointment in her voice.

I gave them my cover story. Lavender and Parvati looked amazed. Granger didn’t seem to be paying attention which was a blessing because I didn’t need her already starting her S.P.E.W. arch.

“This is great though,” Lavender declared. “I mean you still don’t have a bed or room but you’ve got clothes and you know your things are okay!”

“Were you able to get your books?” Parvati asked.

“Yup. Books and supplies in my bag downstairs. One worry down… about 50 left.” I thanked them both for helping me out and told them I would see them at breakfast. Just to be a shit I told Granger to have a good morning as I left which caused her to scowl.

Chapter Text

Two bits of good news.

Number one was the juices were definitely not potion-infused this morning so I got to try and absolutely dismiss drinking pumpkin juice.

Number two: Transfiguration was not scheduled on Tuesdays which meant I had a free day before I was going to inform Ron and anyone who asked why I wasn’t going to attend Transfiguration for the foreseeable future.

Or rather that was the plan.

Anyhow she’d told me not to come to class if I couldn’t take it seriously and who the hell could with such an antagonistic teacher?

Now whether her hateful attitude was comparable to canon Snape’s I have no idea. All I know is McGonagall was out to make me miserable. Hence why as I was eating breakfast she stopped her unnecessary walk past through the aisle and stared at me. She said nothing until Ron (because I sure as hell wasn’t going to address her) wished her good morning and asked if she needed anything. She ignored him, declaring I had lost 10 points to Gryffindor for altering my uniform.

The entire table’s attention was on us and I felt my anger rising. ”What are you talking about?” I demanded to know.

She had the audacity to then accuse me of reverting my patch to presorting design.

“It’s been like this since I got here,” I fired back. “Perhaps you’ve been so busy that much like the schedule mishap you didn’t notice?” My give a damn was close to being busted. She then called me a liar, took 5 more points from Gryffindor, and told me I had detention - despite several classmates trying to come to my defense. 

The general feeling that something was wrong with our Head of House was prevalent as she walked off.

“I’m not going,” I confided to Ron and Neville as we finished eating. “And I’m not attending her class either.”

“I don’t think you can do that,” Neville said.

“She told me not to come back to her class until I can act appropriately and obviously I can’t do that no matter what. So I’m just not going to attend her class and just self-study.”

Ron (the absolute sweetheart) said he’d take notes and let me borrow them. Neville asked what I was going to do about homework. “Well if I’m not attending class then there’s no use in me doing homework,” I replied as we gathered our things. “To be honest if she fails me out of Transfiguration, I don’t care. I’ll just see if the Ministry has end of year exams they have for homeschooled kids. If they don’t exist then I’ll just see what I need for OWLS.”

I would like it known my favourite way of casting spells out loud will be the Final Fantasy method. Fire, Thunder, Blizzaga… Simple and to the point. If I had to be forced to say a spell out loud, I’d rather do it with that universe’s lingo.

Now I can actually speak Latin so you’d think I wouldn’t really have a problem with learning spells around here in that language. Which I sort of don’t? It’s just irritating me. Much like I’m irritated having to cast out loud. I’m having to learn to cast with a wand too which adds to the irritation. I just hope the wand or wands I own are picking up my irritation and think it’s with them specifically. 

Speaking of wands…

Neville kept looking at his like it was going to bite him. Given how he admitted that he hadn’t gotten it from Olivander’s, I only could assume it was his father’s like in canon and since his father was still alive? The damn thing wasn’t able to tune itself to Neville’s magic.

In fact when I watched him try and cast Lumos in class, I kid you not I could see the wand’s innate magic trying to ward off poor Neville’s magic.

Now I don’t know if magic colours mean anything like aura colours do but Neville’s magic was Crayola sunshine yellow. The wand’s magic was a deep pine green and you could see where it was just barely letting Neville focus magic through it.

“Neville, I don’t want to freak you out but I think I’m seeing magic,” I told him when I noticed not only had I been staring but the poor kid’s face had gone crimson with embarrassment. “Please for the love of Merlin forgive me for staring but-” 

I looked at Ron and then at Finnegan and finally in Granger’s direction. All of them were practising their Lumos and holy shit: I was seeing their magic at work. “Oh fork,” I muttered and Neville went from crimson cheek embarrassed to acutely concerned. “Oh this might be bad.”

Neville called Professor Flitwick over to us and I told him what was going on. I had to go into a deeper explanation other than “I’m seeing magic” before he told me to go to the hospital wing and get myself checked out by Nurse Pomphrey.

Neville was told to go with me as apparently a wand not acting as the conduit it’s intended to be could be bad. Although he didn’t say that out loud. Madame Pomphrey did when I explained what I was seeing and for once I did not mind being put on the backburner.

As she explained it, Neville’s wand badly interacting with his magic? What I was witnessing could lead to something called Haskin Depressions. She explained that this event happened maybe once or twice each school year with kids going from wand casting to wandless or kids who had learned how to cast wandless first trying to cast with a wand. Or (in Neville’s case) inheriting a wand instead of one choosing them. Side effects went from bruising and fever at the mildest to muscle cramps and chest pain. Worse was if it didn’t get treated, it could cause problems with a person's magic long term.

“You’re telling me if the wand keeps rejecting him he could become disabled?” I asked in horror. 

“It’s a worse case scenario,” Madame Pomphrey assured me. “We’ll monitor your progress, Mister Longbottom and if you continue to have problems then I will contact your grandmother and insist you get a new wand.”

Neville was visibly cycling through fear and misery and I put my hand out for him to hold. He took it. “Do you need me to apologize?” I asked. He shook his head. “You know it’s going to be okay, right?”

“I just don’t want my gran mad.”

“Why would she be mad?”

“Because I was already a late bloomer and everyone thought I was going to be a squib for years. It wasn’t until I got my letter that everyone in the family was finally convinced I was magical enough.”

I hated what I was about to do but I wasn’t supposed to know the story behind his parents and so I had to act clueless. “Neville, please tell me your parents didn’t treat you like you were insignificant because you weren’t showing off visible accidental magic?”

He looked at me shocked but then shook his head with fervor. “No, my parents are…they’re….”

There was a visible struggle on his face and I held up my hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything unless you’re comfortable and you are very much not comfortable right now. You can tell me another time whenever you’re ready.”

He looked relieved as Madame Pomphrey came back out of her office. It was my turn now.

She did some scans for injury which came up negative (of course) as she questioned me.

After a dozen or so queries, she was quiet for a minute before announcing, “Miss Potter, you may have to be tested for Mage-Sight.”

Oh god the surprises are never ending are they? Now I know what Mage-Sight is. You probably know what Mage-Sight is. But for those who don’t…

“What’s Mage-Sight?” I asked, taking note of Neville’s wide-eyed shock.

“It’s when a wixen has the ability to physically see magical energies,” she explained. “As this is not something that you had before Hogwarts, we should get you tested by someone more adept than I. I’ll make arrangements with the Headmaster-”

“That won’t be necessary.” Madame Pomphrey blinked in surprise at my harsh tone and both she and Neville looked at me. “My guardian is perfectly capable of getting me tested over the upcoming summer or during one of the breaks. I don’t want Albus Dumbledore having anything extra to do with my life.”

Pomphrey seemed slightly uncomfortable with that. “Miss Potter, it would be best to get you tested and diagnosed as soon as possible so that we can know if your newest ability would cause any hamperings on your studies.”

“Wouldn’t you need to contact my guardian first before you arranged any kind of testing?”

“The Headmaster is essentially your guardian during the school terms so he would be the one who would sign off on permission to get you tested.”

“Then I refuse the tests. Thank you for your time, Madame Pomphrey.” I tugged Neville to his feet and made ready to leave the Hospital Wing.

“Miss Potter, having Mage-Sight can be both a blessing and a curse and in worst case scenarios, some have gone blind!. I really think you should get tested.”

“I refuse to let Albus Dumbledore-”

“Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Oh good. Guess she’s in that lane. “I refuse to let him invade any more of my life than he already has. I do not feel safe around him. I do not trust him after he placed a brainwashing curse on my mail and then tried to break through the wards on my home! I’m currently dormless because he refuses to acknowledge that I wasn’t actually sorted! I refuse to consent to anything that man might sign off on. My guardian, Daniella, can arrange my tests just fine. Good bye, Madame.”

I then pretty much dragged Neville out of the wing with me.

“I will take full responsibility for any trouble we get into for being late for Herbology,” I promised Neville as we made our way to the greenhouse where class was held. We had stopped near the staircases as we waited for one of those leading down to align for us to get on.

“A-Are you okay?”

I blinked and looked at Neville, who was returning the look with concern. I thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I think I’m okay but I would be better if this whole Mage-Sight business hadn’t happened when my guardian isn’t in charge. Did I yank you too hard?”

He shook his head hard as the staircase asserted itself into the proper position. We started our descent. “You really d-don’t like the Headmaster?”

“No. I wasn’t lying about the brainwashing spells on my mail or the fact he tried to blast through our home’s wards. They wrote an article about it in the Daily Prophet during the summer and it caused a serious power outage in the muggle neighborhood. Scared the pants off me because it was just constant boom boom boom. I don’t know how he got away without being punished. Then he tried to slip me a portkey disguised as my platform ticket when Hagrid forgot to give it to me.”

“Wow.”

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! I’m pretty sure if my guardian had known that she wouldn’t be consulted for permission of my care and it would all go to Dumbledore’s decision, we might not have agreed to let me come here. Just because I’m not living with her doesn’t mean she stops being my guardian. That opens up so many problems! Like what happens if a student gets horrifically injured? By Dumbledore being the one in charge that means he gets the final decision if a parent is told. Parents and guardians should always be notified if their kid got hurt or in trouble!”

Oh this was a recipe for disaster.

We got to Greenhouse One where we slid into our places with Professor Sprout turning a blind eye to us being late. 

Sweet woman.

Class went smoothly and Ron was able to ask me what had happened while we were doing clean up. I explained to him how I had been seeing magic as it was being cast and was sent to the Hospital Wing. “The Madame thinks I might have Mage Sight,” I confessed. Ron looked wide-eyed at me.

“That’s a really rare ability,” he mused.

“Yeah, I’m going to see if my guardian can arrange for me to get tests during one of the breaks or next summer. But apparently I can see magic when it’s being used. Seems like a pretty useful ability.”