Summary:It all starts with the stars, doesn't it?
She doesn't know how she got there, or why. But she has a mum who she loves, magic at her fingertips she only read about in books, and a whole lot of knowledge and not enough backbone to let things play out how they're supposed to.
Having a bleeding heart always did make things more difficult for her.
Or alternatively: Confused woman wakes up as a baby and later finds out she's in the HP universe, gets attached to the characters and makes her way into trolling most adults, just because.
Notes:Alright, I have like six more fics I want to post but I'm too scared to commit, so I'm starting with this one bc I think it'll be shorter. (I think)
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1: chapter i: home?Chapter TextI was falling.
(deep. dark. so dark.)
There was a feeling of being airborne, first. Like when you lift your feet into a ghost step, just that tug on your heart and stomach, then came the fall.
(why is it so quiet?)
So so dark and silent but loud like the wind too. And I was still falling. Grasping at nothing. Where was my body?
My hair wasn't rushing, not like the wind and crash and loud and quiet in my ears (how is it silent and loud?) where was I? What are the lights?
Orbs of lights dancing in front of my face. (so pretty)
Pretty, very pretty.
I was already starting to get resigned to the eternal falling, to the mix of oversensitivity and numbness when everything fell into place.
Like I was a rubber band being pulled and finally releasing the stress and falling back into place.
When I blinked, it was a blurry sight. (nothing new, I did need my glasses in the morning, after all.)
Still trying to regain my breath, I resisted the urge to rub my chest to rid myself of the feeling you have when you wake up from a dream of falling. It was once I reached for my glasses that realized something was wrong.
First of all, my arm felt… numb. (?) As if I had fallen asleep on it, but if that wasn't weird enough, I finally realized that there wasn't a fucking side table.
In fact, there wasn't a fucking bed either.
Now, I didn't want to admit it, but between you and me, I only really realized that I was a goddamn baby because when I yelped, I actually didn't… yelp. I wanted to! It's what I was going for! But my infant body responded to my distress by wailing the breath out of me.
No, really.
I couldn't breathe with how hard I was crying.
There were… sigh. There were hiccups.
Full-blown infant hiccups between wailing. I even gave myself a headache, which only made me cry more. Because, you know… baby brain.
It was mid baby-meltdown that I had the first glimpse of my frazzled mother. I say glimpse but I mean more like blur.
"Shh. Shh. You're ok, Lils, you're ok. shh, shh."
She was warm when she picked me up and tucked me against her neck, swaying gently and humming something that instantly had me quieting down. Even as I was still freaking out, because holy shit I was getting picked up and I was a baby, but like magic, I was lulled into calmness.
The woman felt safe and warm and she gave the best back rubs and pats, and her humming seemed to have some goddamn effect too because the vibrations of her chest had me nearly melting, but seeing as that was impossible, I settled on sagging completely against her.
"There's a good girl, Lils." If I cooed in wonder at her raspy voice, that was my business and my fucking business alone, alright?
When she (unfortunately) pulled away, I got a glimpse of light brown hair pinned up, and dark eyes. My vision hadn't sharpened yet, but I knew she was beautiful. The woman stared at me, and we both took a moment to be in awe of each other after she gently settled me back, running a warm finger on my chubby cheek and smiling when I instinctively tried to grab it.
Then, she was gone and I was left to contemplate my new position.
So… A baby.
Um… A baby in… Scotland? Honestly, English had not been my first language and accents were not my thing. I knew it wasn't American, but I could not for the life of me figure out if the accent was Irish or Scottish.
Either way, it was far from home.
Chapter 2: chapter ii: surprises of a new lifeSummary:In which we learn and we laugh hysterically.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextSo, I figured out a few things after a while.
First, my new mom (because I was surprisingly ok with finding out I was getting a second shot at life, hey it's not like I remembered most of my first life, either way) was an absolute darling.
No, really. Bless her soul.
The woman was gorgeous (as I guessed, which made me a little excited for selfish reasons of: me also being pretty this time around if the gods were good), she sang to me softly in a language I did not recognize but had a very Celtic feeling to it, she was warm and liked to carry me around while doing chores and always nuzzled my hair with her warm nose and gave me bum pats that always lulled me calm.
She was just so… urgh, so affectionate and gentle. And goddamnit alright my previous parents were lukewarm at best and terrifying at worst, and I was milking the affection and love, alright? Hop off my nonexistent dick- sorry, cock. Gotta get the lingo right.
Second, we lived in Scotland and I had also gone back in time. I tried not to think much about it, I was too busy napping and receiving affection either way, so it was whatever, not thinking about how that was possible.
Third, I didn't have a dad.
I probably should, but… I didn't care. I just didn't. Leanna was enough- more than enough, actually. Was I a little curious? Oh yeah, mostly because I wanted to know if he died, left mum, or didn't know about me, but my beautiful mother never badmouthed or uttered his name, nor in respect nor in anger or shame, so it was up in the air, but I could live with it.
Fourth, my name was Lilium.
Fucking-
Lilium .
Pronouced Lily-uhm.
I won't lie to you, chief, I was not excited about starting school again. That name was going to get me so much shit. Urgh.
She uttered reverently about what it meant, that it was an ancient constellation for the flower Lily but it did not sweeten me to the name. Even more so when she told me it was part of the Musca Constellation… The fucking fly constellation. It wasn't even in fucking use! Whatever. Whatever! I only answered to Lily or Lils, anyways. And if people insisted on calling me by Lilium I'd just kick them in the shins, so it was fine… It was! Urgh, fucking whatever.
And thus far, my life was pretty much that.
Discover new things, receive affection, and then sleep.
Really, no one talks about how tiring it is to be a baby! Honestly, if I wasn't bored, I was tired, if I wasn't tired, I was bored. It was a tiring cycle, I was teething (it hurt like a fucking bitch but I took it like a champ) and all of that was what pushed me to try to crawl around my crib and talk.
I didn't have the talking part down yet, my tongue just did not work how I wanted, and most of the time all that came out was senseless babbles, but mum seemed happy and entertained me with full one-sided conversations all the same as I made noises that fit the mood.
"What a shame there isn't another book! What do you think, little star?"
Thoughtful babbles "Well, it wasn't well-received, from what you said, mum. "
"I know, I know. I'm just sulking." She smiled amusedly as I blew raspberries, pursing her lips and pressing a kiss to my forehead, carrying on with her tirade as I babbled in response.
It was how most of our talks went, and even though I couldn't really engage, I still loved hearing her talk, and could only hope to have the same raspy tone.
Either way, time had begun passing.
My vision had sharpened a few months back, and I was already able to lift my own head when we got a visitor, my first one, actually.
Now, I'm not saying that I probably had a troubled aunt… but I had a troubled aunt.
My hearing wasn't good enough to completely understand it from far away, but my aunt was not supposed to be in our little flat, something about not being safe for either of us, there was an argument about her meeting me, mum was pissed off, she was hissing a lot of words, but apparently my aunt won out.
She was also a very beautiful woman, younger than my mother by a few years, light golden hair in a long mullet, which was an absolute win in my books, even if she seemed to be under a perm, she wore a leather jacket with pins and spikes, her shirt had holes in it, though they looked like it was on purpose, and she had the same eyes as mum.
When she held me she cried. (she smelt of ashes, ozone, and blood under the jasmines and leather.)
I didn't learn her name, and whenever I tried to soothe her by being fucking cute, she just cried harder, so I stopped and squirmed until my mom muttered about that being enough and cradled me protectively against her chest.
She left shortly after and mum spent the rest of the week under the weather.
So, troubled aunt.
Mum seemed to realize how curious I was after a while because she would amusedly hand me kiddy books and watch me read them, even if they were stupid. Because at least it was something to do.
I could already somewhat sit on my own and stand on my own chubby legs if I was grabbing something when I decided that it was time. Phew, time for a big fat 'mama'.
I had no way of telling the time, how long it had passed, just that I assumed I wasn't one yet, seeing as mum hadn't said anything, but it seemed safe enough to do it. Besides, I was a fucking baby with somewhat memories of my past (future?) life, I'm sure some babies are just that smart too.
So, one day, right after bath and play/learn time, when she had placed me on my mat in the flat's living room, just as she opened her book, I sat up by myself, smacked my lips, raised my chubby arms and squealed in delight.
"Mama! "
I'm not saying I was proud of making my mum cry but… Oh, who was I kidding, I was absolutely delighted that she cried.
She even dropped her book!
Granted, she stared at me for a good forty seconds until I squealed the word again and clapped my hands waiting for another acknowledgment, but even before I was finished clapping, I was being lifted again and rewarded with wet kisses and with her giddily spinning us around.
(So worth it.)
Then came the little milestones, you know.
First step, more words, starting to eat more solid foods (thank fuck), walking, then running around, my birthday, which (surprisingly), was still the same as the before, September the 6th, then mum started working again and I was being dropped off with the elderly neighbor that loved to coo over the sight of me with big kids books (she hadn't caught on that I was actually reading and not just imitating mum).
She didn't seem really surprised by it, actually. Mum, that is. When she caught me reading one of the more advanced books from the shelves I could reach. Awed and proud? Sure, but not really surprised.
Though I still made sure to babble questions about words I didn't understand- my English had been good, not great, alright? So maybe she just accepted better with all the aid I'd need sometimes. (I was also picking up the accent, so hooray!)
When I wasn't reading, I was drawing (very badly, if I might say so), or if I wasn't entertaining myself quietly, I'd be running to my mum's legs demanding affection I was freely and happily given.
Then '81 arrived.
It had been a normal day, nothing in the air when mum kissed my nose and dropped me with our neighbour, no foreboding feeling, no bad vibes, but a few months before my second birthday, mum was late to pick me up.
I didn't think anything of it at first. Sure, it wasn't normal, but it also wasn't completely weird. Maybe she got held back at the library, it had happened before, after all.
But when dinner time arrived and Mrs. Vass received a phone call and kindly told me I was spending the night, I got a little worried.
Had something happened to mum? It couldn't. I refused to accept it. So I had stubbornly refused to eat and sleep, continuously sneaking back to wait by the door, because mum wouldn't leave me. Would she? No. No, she wouldn't.
I felt a little bad for old Mrs. Vass for having to deal with my silent stubbornness, but I wanted my mommy and damn it if I'd break my protesting for her return just because the sweet old lady was sending me worried looks. It wasn't just that I was spending the night, it was that she wouldn't tell me if my mum was ok and safe, she'd just say she couldn't tell me! So yeah, I felt only a little bad.
If I cried when mum weakly knocked on the door at lunch the next day, it wasn't anyone's business.
It was night when she held me, bringing me to her bed and brushing my hair away from my face, that she quietly cried and whispered that my aunt and grandparents had passed away the day before.
Mum didn't go into detail. She wouldn't. Why would she? I was a child. I didn't pry, I just hugged her tighter and pretended not to feel her shaking and the tears wetting my hair.
The next morning, while mum was still sleeping, I sneaked to Mrs. Vass and quietly asked for breakfast because mum wasn't feeling well and she deserved to rest. The sad glint in her eyes told me that she knew what had happened, but she didn't ask anything else, just sent me on my way with two plates.
It was… Rough.
It was rough. Mum lost her little sister and parents in one night, she whispered about a fire, but something in the strain of her voice had me feeling like that wasn't all that happened, but I let it go and tried not to feel hurt as she couldn't look at me for a little while.
(I didn't understand until a while later when I could finally reach the sink by myself and look into the mirror only to see a blonde mane so alike my aunts and grandparents.)
But mum was strong and with the help of old Mrs. Vass, she started to heal. It wasn't easy, and my birthday was a little somber with no eccentric gifts from the grandparents I never met and from the troubled aunt like the year before, but seeing as it was just mum, me, and Mrs. Vass, I understood.
Besides, I still got some random gifts from my aunt's friends, not that I care more than being able to be curled on my mother's lap.
Then the months started to pass weirdly fast, and next I knew I was starting primary.
"Do I have to?" Was my go-to whine whenever the subject was brought up after my fourth birthday, knowing that since I was a September kid, I still had a year to convince my mum to just… not… do it. Maybe homeschool me.
"Yes, you have, little star. You can't just have mommy as your friend. Don't you want other friends?" My nose wrinkled at that before I sighed dramatically from my chair (it had been my birthday gift, a reading chair of my own so I could finally leave the floor to be with her when I wanted to read), ignoring her quiet laughter as I pouted.
"No, I don't. Mommy is enough of a friend for me, why would I want to be friends with some snot covered brat?"
"You're a snot covered brat."
"Am not!"
"Are so."
"Mum!"
(I lost the argument, and the next year I ended up having to be surrounded by the whiny snot covered brats, as expected.)
I never hated children, for real. Had no problem with them, but the perspective of having to spend the whole day around them was nerve-wracking. But mum was right about a thing, I was needing to socialise with peers "my age", it gave me a glimpse of just how odd I acted.
That was probably why mum had insisted on it, to be honest. Not really for my smarts, she was proud of her 'mini-genius', but my lack of other toddlers and children to talk to showed, alright.
To most adults it was cute, like I was mum's mini-me, a tiny adult, a temper tantrum free child, but wow… How mum didn't demand an exorcism was a surprise. It had never dawned on me that I shouldn't speak like I did, but honestly? Mum's fault, and she took pride in saying that it was because she's been holding conversations with me since forever.
But hey, at least primary was a nice training. I don't remember being very social in my past life- I was what my friends would call a closeted introvert, meaning that I could socialize, I just didn't do it much, but with how I acted, me being an introvert just went over people's head. It wasn't hard, in my defense.
It was the "we're already friends" rule I went by. If you meet someone, or someone goes to talk to you, just act as if they're already your friend, be nice, smile a lot, and bam! No enemies, and maybe you can even actually find a true friend with that technique. The 'fake it til you make it' was real and it worked, alright.
If I skipped a few grades and still made friends with the older kids, then at least mum didn't have to worry about me getting picked on (much) for being the youngest.
Honestly, seven-year-olds were so fucking mean. Jesus.
Which I'll vehemently blame on what happened until the end of my days.
Again, I found out that the big things happened on the days I least expected. It started as usual, mum woke me up, we ate breakfast, she dropped me off on her way to work, and I moved to socialise with my peers.
It was honestly going well, the day even started as normal, classes progressed as they normally did, until they didn't.
To be fair, I can't really just blame Archie. He too was a kid, a little shit of a kid, but a kid nonetheless. I blame him for the gum in my hair when I was supposed to be helping him, and I blame Scotland for the shitty weather, and I blame the child brain, and the world for making me arrive home stressed, with gum in my hair, soaked wet and just overall pissed off.
Mum was trying to placate me, but she didn't have the experience to deal with tantrums or me being generally in a sour mood, seeing as I had been a good baby and only cried when in need of something, and had gotten the communicating my needs with words pretty early on.
I loved the woman, but she was hovering, and I just wanted to shower and rip my hair out and free of the fucking gum, and to eat and my books were wet, ruined my homework and I didn't want them fucking wet!
So imagine my surprise when my books caught on fire out of nothing in the middle of the living room.
Very… Uh- Yeah.
It was an even bigger surprise when mum just sighed tiredly and put it out with a towel, not an ounce of surprise or fear, she was just resigned.
"Wha- What?! " My voice was shrill and I might've burst into tears hard enough for mum to pick me up and rock me from side to side.
"Shh, it's ok. You- I- I was waiting for something like this- Well, you just- You were such a calm baby! I thought-" Leanna sighed again, still rocking me when she sat on her reading chair, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulders when I hiccuped. "Breathe, little star, it's ok."
"Did I do that?" Mum pressed a kiss to my brow, nodding gently as I sniffled, pressing my face against her neck and feeling an odd shake starting to take over my chubby body. "What's wrong with me!? "
Leanna squeezed me tighter, one of her warm hands raising to squeeze the nape of my neck to get me to back off so I could stare at her hard brown eyes.
"Nothing is wrong with you, Lilium, do you hear me? Nothing." She shakes me a little when my eyes fill with tears again, because holy shit. I think she misinterpreted my crying again for being scared when I was in fact just a little overwhelmed about being loved like this. "Mommy needs you to take a deep breath, yeah? She has a story to tell you."
And so that was how I found out about magic, and that bloody hell, I was in a fictional world. A fucking. Fictional. World.
I might've hysterically laughed throughout most of the explanation and mum had to pause to watch me transition from laughing to crying to calm me down and carry on telling me about her family. About our family, about Death Eaters, and how mum had to stay away from her parents and her sister because she was a squib. It was… a lot.
She told me how I had done accidental magic before, how I'd keep hiding her books in my room when I was in the crib, so she'd be around me (I always thought she was always so forgetful about them), but that she couldn't be sure, and she told me about Hogwarts, the stories she heard from her little sister, about Harry fucking Potter defeating you-know-who, how she wanted to shelter me from this world for a little longer, but that she had an idea I'd find out sooner than later, with how fast I learned and matured.
Mum didn't tell me about my father or more about our massacred family. I didn't ask.
I didn't think I'd be able to handle any more information, either way.
That night, I went to sleep with thoughts of what it meant to me all the knowledge I had, and what I'd do with it.
One thing was set on stone, though. Things would not be the same.
Because guess what?
Fuck Canon .
Notes:Alright, I'll be seeing anyone who's reading this, next Saturday! Let me know your thoughts and theories (they are probably right I'm terrible at just hinting).
Chapter 3: chapter iii: fortune to the braveSummary:In which we (try) to deal with new information.
Notes:I know I said I'd only post next Saturday but I have a backbone of paper and the wind hit me.
Chapter TextAlright, I was a little ashamed to admit it, but it did take me a few months to come to terms that magic was real and so was the Harry Potter universe, and that I was a part of it.
But when it finally dawned on me that yes, it was real and my family had been massacred by fucking Voldemort, and if I survived until the seventh book, I'd be a part of a fucking war and my mother would be in danger because she was a squib? Oh, then I was stomping to my sweet mother demanding to get magical books because no one would hurt her like they hurt my aunt and grandparents.
I wouldn't fucking let them.
I don't know what she saw when I made my demand, but her eyes watered and her smile turned sad before she nodded.
"I'll see if I can find Lene's old school books. You will not be practising anything until your magical core has strengthened and settled, until you've gone to Hogwarts, but I don't see a problem in you reading the theory behind them."
With a frown and a pout, I nodded in return and stomped back to my room to search for that tingly sensation I had felt when I set the book on fire.
For all the fanfiction I've read on magic, nothing ever described how bothering it was to have magic.
Maybe it was because I didn't know how to grasp it, and maybe my discomfort was a phantom one, but bloody fucking damnit! It was irksome to know it was there but out of fucking reach.
How fucking bothersome.
It's not like I had found where it started, and it had been months of me trying! The only times I'd feel the shock of magic was when I'd get frustrated at my lack of finding said magic and ended up doing accidental magic because I'd get pissed off.
It was only when I drenched my room that I put a stop to my search. Mum was not happy with my secret lessons and ended up confiscating the first year books I was in the middle of, and I got grounded for the first time in this life.
It had been a little humbling too when she dragged me to our downstairs neighbour to see the damage my accidental magic had caused, and I had to clean the room and drown in the guilt of mum having to work overtime to pay for the repair of the man's music equipment.
Not my best moment.
Either way, a lesson is a lesson and at least I understood what mum had meant with 'unstable magical core'. Sure, I couldn't look at her or our downstairs neighbour for about two weeks, but I learned! And! Mr. Dupret taught me the guitar!
So instead of searching for my magic I just settled on learning the guitar and meditating (under mum's careful eyes, of course). I wasn't really aiming for anything, just kinda making sure I didn't have another one of the scary episodes where I either made it rain or put things on fire.
It was on my eighth birthday that I was allowed to read the books again, only took a few years, ey?
The only shame about mum being a squib was that she didn't have any wizarding friends, and most if not all of my aunt's friends had died in the war, so it wasn't like she could call any of them for help or to answer my questions. It also came with the bad side of living in Scotland and not having a floo network, which meant that I had yet to visit Diagon Alley. Though mum did say that her sister and parents used to either use the floo from my grandparent's house or one of the magical apothecaries nearby.
I had a feeling that mum just didn't want to take me there yet, which as a great daughter (cough cough), I didn't call her out on. It's not like I couldn't see her fear about me being a witch.
It wasn't because I was a witch, per se. But for all that her parents and sister didn't completely cut her out, she was still left aside for being a squib. She didn't hate them for it, especially when she knew what could've happened to her had she been born in another family, but there was an undeniable gap between her and the magical world. Her fear of me drifting away was valid, but unfounded seeing as only in death would she get rid of me, no matter what.
It had taken me another year of meditation to finally start separating what I remembered as canon and fanon from the HP universe. If I had to describe how my memories of everything had been, I'd say that they reminded me of two yarns of wool that were tangled and I couldn't distinguish one from another. I'd try to pull one and then I'd realise that I was in fact, pulling the other.
It helped to go through what I remembered and pin them to one of the yarns. Then, just for funsies, once I got most of my memories from the books and movies, I used the yarn to make a fetching scarf. It was stupid, but hell, if me imagining putting the scarf didn't help me remember canon.
I didn't do anything with the fanon yarn, it was longer (so fucking long it had me embarrassed) so I had a hard time making anything with it. So I just shoved the yarn in a wooden box that reminded me of the box mum had for pieces of scrap. I didn't care if it tangled or knotted, it's not like I'd have any use for the fanon idea of lordships and whatnots (I considered everything I didn't read in the books fanon, so with no memories of Lord Malfoy and shit happening in the books, into the fanon yarn it went).
I didn't think much of it, just kinda did.
Then the wooden box went under the nonexistent bed. It had been a little hard to remember everything I had read and watched of this universe in the middle of all my past life memories and of the new ones.
If I started separating them, then it was no biggie. It gave me something to do in class, anyways.
Mum was none the wiser about my spacing out, only assuming that it was my magical core maturing and making me tired, might've been that, to be honest, but for all that I tried to learn more about this world I thought I knew everything about, it was slow progress. Turns out that magical theory was a pain in the fucking ass.
Whoever wrote that it was all easy, was a fucking liar. I can't even tell how many notes I had to take to actually grasp the concept of them. It was my previous knowledge that fucked me over, actually. I reckon if I had an actual younger mind I'd probably have an easier time understanding them, but no matter how much I tried to shake it off, I always ended up trying to relate the magic with science, and it would just turn into a jumbled mess to me.
I was suddenly very sympathetic of the boys with all their lack of will of studying whenever Hermione nagged them. Sure, when you understood the basis you understood most, but bloody hell, was it annoying at the start! It felt a lot like physics. All the "one's matter does not change and bla bla bla", it's all so fucking boring! But whatever, when I got past it, it had me itching to try them out. But wandless magic was also a pain in the ass and I had zero progress in that area, so again, in the backburner it went until I had more control of it. And a fucking wand, that is.
It was only once I got all my science-y knowledge hidden under the nonexistent bed while reading that I truly started to comprehend the books, but it was still saying something that I spent a long while in the first year books.
Not that there was truly any rush, so I was taking my sweet time getting my bases right and hey, first impressions stick. If I go through my first year being a good student, I'm sure I could blend in later and not be so suspicious.
The only serious problem we faced was when I started secondary because I had skipped a few years. We had a talk about me still going to Hogwarts when I could have something big as a muggle, and to be honest, even if I didn't have all this knowledge to fix things, I'd still go.
I just felt… disjointed, amongst my peers. And not just because I was a reincarnated soul, no. I knew it was because of my magic, and with it settling, I don't think I'd be able to give it up, not with how it made me feel.
Even if I didn't experience the full extent of what most of the magical kids did, the exclusion and bullying, it was still… hard.
The feeling of not belonging clung to me like a bad smell to my clothes, reminding me over and over that if those kids were to learn that I could move things with my mind, they'd label me as a ' freak '. The magic that once reminded me of getting shocked had turned into a warm blanket and a reminder of mum's hugs, and how could I hate it and part with it when it felt so- so… so like a chunk of me?
Besides, I needed it to protect my mum. I couldn't just give that up.
Speaking of my mum.
I had to give it to her for being able to push out visiting Diagon Alley for so long. A backbone of steel, the woman had.
It was September 6th of 1990 that my letter arrived, I honestly wasn't expecting it. I genuinely thought I'd only get it the next year, you know, when I'd actually be able to attend it.
Mum woke me up with breakfast in bed and snuggles, tucking me under her arm as we ate and laughed and as she kissed my blonde hair again and again, muttering about me growing up too much and too fast.
"Next year I won't get to be with you on your birthday, so I thought that maybe we could spend the day lazing around and stuffing ourselves with terrible terrible food?" My head snapped up and I widened my eyes at my mother, smiling slowly as her words registered.
"But what about school and your work?"
"Took a day off and called in sick for you." My squeal had her laughing and squeezing me tighter, pressing her cheek against my head tenderly. "I have some gifts for you."
"Gifts? In plural?" Mum laughed quietly, separating from me and raising to her feet, signaling me to wait as she left my room, leaving me to sigh contently and stretch lazily. Having day-offs was a rare thing with mum, the woman believed firmly in "if you have time to laze you have time to work". Whether that be studying, reading, walking around the block, cleaning- She just didn't like to be still and expected the same of me.
An insistent tap tap tap on my window broke me out of my reverie, making me blink dumbly at the gigantic owl waiting impatiently.
"Bloody He-"
"Language!" I jumped again as mum scowled at me, following my gaze to the window and widening her eyes in surprise, clenching her teeth and taking a deep breath before leaving the box by my feet.
"Look at the size of that thing, mum!"
The owl hooted indignantly, snapping her beak threateningly at the glass and making me shriek when it puffed up and glared heatedly at me.
"Star, stop antagonizing the owl!"
"I'm not!"
Mum clicked her tongue and moved to open the window, reaching for some of the leftover bacon on my plate and offering to the little shit of an animal, cooing when it nipped affectionately at her fingers and dropped the letter on her extended hand while glaring menacingly at me.
"Who's a pretty girl? Oh, such a hard worker! You rest here, pretty girl. I'll get you some water in a little, yes?" I shit you not, the owl smiled. I know it did. No, I did not imagine it. The fucking own hooted gently and settled on my fucking window and it bloody smiled! "Well… I guess the timing fits."
Blinking back at my mum, I sat excitedly, reminded of what the little monster carried and what it could be. My mother sat back by my side, gently placing the box she brought on my lap, still holding on to the letter and signing me to open the present before the letter.
Smiling widely, I did as told, raising my brows at the contents.
"I know you never asked about your aunt and grandparents because of me, but… But our family had this tradition when a child turned eleven. I- Well, I didn't have a use for mine and we all knew I couldn't exactly- Yes. Well, since I didn't have any use for my gifts, I thought you'd like them better."
I looked reverently at the box, touching what looked like a leather wand holster and a ring on top of it.
The wand holster was light in colour with golden details, the family crest, with the wild boar and the motto written perfectly "audentes fortuna iuvat". The ring was simple, a silver band with the family motto engraved in latin.
Fortune favours the Brave.
"They're both enchanted for protection. It's a family ring. If I- Well, it would work better if I was a witch. The ring works to communicate with who wears another, you just twist it three times. I reached out to one of your aunt's friends, he enchanted a bracelet for me, so you can talk to me whenever you want once you're gone to Hogw-"
My mother clung to me, returning my hug with just as much tightness as me, breathing in my scent as I listened to the sound of her heart, burning to memory the feel of her hug as the tears blurred my vision, a wave of relief washing over me.
Fuck, I hadn't realized how upset I was with parting with her and not having an immediate way of reaching her.
She squeezed me one last time, clearing her throat and blinking away her own tears to watch me slide in the ring, smiling when I shuddered happily at the feeling of magic, giggling when the wand holster disappeared as I slid it on.
"It'll also leave your wand out of sight." I hummed in awe, brushing my hand on my right inner arm and marveling that I could feel it, but not see it. She bumped her arm with mine and handed me the letter, a small smile on her lips when I beamed at it.
My hands shook as I took the envelope in my hands, eyes shining at what I once only dreamt of becoming reality, and what now I was a part of.
Soon.
Chapter 4: chapter iv: little starSummary:in which we shop and cry (again).
Notes:hehehhe thank you so much for the ones that took the time to comment the last chapter, I'll still keep writing and posting if there aren't any, because I want to finish something, finally, but it still makes me very giddy!
ALSO, I LOVE YOU GUYS GUESSING ABOUT OC'S CIRCUMSTANCES AND HER FAMILY! Patience, things will start getting more on the nose for everyone (but oc, she kinda dumb). So heeey
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextHow to describe Diagon Alley?
Honestly, I don't think I could even if I tried. The only (and obvious) word I could use to describe would be 'magical '. A little stupid to say, but I was too much awed about it to think of anything else. It was bursting with colours, sounds and magic.
Mum got to hold out the trip until March, surprisingly. Something about how they were probably still re-stocking everything, and something about waiting to see if they'd change the Defence Against the Dark Arts books, which - Fair, I guess.
"Are we going to exchange the money for galleons, mum? Are you sure we can afford everything?" She blinked down at me in confusion at my whisper, pushing me gently to walk when the line at Gringotts moved again, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
"I guess I forgot to tell you, huh?" Mum laughed quietly at my expectant face, patting my shoulder and smiling sadly at me. "No, sweetie. Your grandparents left the family money to us- well, to you."
My face must've been something else, because she had to cough to cover her loud laugh, making me sneer at the people that glared at her for the noise, only undoing my expression when she patted my shoulder again.
"Ah, yes, I know. I'm sorry, my little star. I just was under the impression I had already told you. Your grandparents and your aunt knew you'd be a little witch, and they wanted us to have all the support I needed to raise and pay for your education… You didn't think we could afford all those books and the apartment just with my salary, did you?"
"Well, when you say it like that." She giggled again at my flushed face, making me huff and cross my arms, batting her hand away gently when she tried to poke my puffed cheek, trying not to be annoyed at her for still keeping some things so close to her chest.
"Next ."
We shared a look before moving to the goblin teller, I tried not to pay attention to his sagging skin and his sharp teeth shown by a sneer, only nodding respectfully and watching my mother hand him a silver key and speak in low tones, bowing her head when he growled about getting a goblin to take us to our vault.
My mother didn't let go of my shoulder even as we got inside the cart, and I had a feeling if she was to let go during the crazy ride, I would've flown off. Or maybe it was so I wouldn't look out the cart (which I tried and got me an even tighter grip on my shoulder), either way, when the cart finally stopped, mum was paper white and had used the few seconds it took the goblin to open the vault to take a few strengthening breathes before leaving the cart on wobbling legs.
If I laughed, she was none the wiser with how shocked she still seemed by all the twists and turns at high speed.
When a green smoke puffed at the opened vault, I held my breath, squeezing mum's hand when it finally cleared out, pulling her with me inside and gaping at it.
Was that how Harry felt seeing so much gold for the first time?
I imagined it wasn't as much as what the Potters left for Harry, but it still seemed like the gramps were loaded. Which- you know, made sense, old family and all, I guess, but still.
"Why don't you go look around while I take what we need, hm?" She patted the top of my head and I smiled widely, scurrying to the chests I had seen. There were a few paintings and old furniture next to them, and a few pokes told me that the paintings were frozen and my ancestors weren't about to rip me a new one for my muggle clothes. Hey, you never fully know your family history.
I chose a worn chest to poke around, it was soon clear that it was a Hogwarts trunk, filled with clothes and knick-knacks. Snorting at the mess, I quirked a smile at the stressed shirts, having an idea of who the trunk belonged to.
My smile widened at the feel of leather, sitting back on my heels and reverently holding my aunt's jacket.
It had pins and badges all around, and I wanted it.
Giggling, I put it on, ignoring how large it was on me as I carried on looking through her things.
"Lils?" Looking over my shoulder, I smiled at my surprised mother, wiggling my brows when she laughed merrily at the sight of me being dwarfed by the jacket. "I think that's a tad too big for you, little star."
"I'll grow into it." She sighed wistfully and returned my smile, nodding and snorting when I cheered quietly.
"Your aunt would've wanted you to have it, anyway." Giggling, I gently closed the trunk, promising myself that I'd go over the photos I found another day. Mum didn't need to see them, not yet. "Let's go, little star."
"Yes, ma'am."
The ride back seemed worse for mum than going down had been, and she took to holding the jacket instead of my shoulder, squeaking and whining when I tentatively watched the darkness underneath us. I had a feeling that only the judging look from the goblin stopped her from falling to her knees and hugging the solid ground.
"Right, thank you. Ah, shall we- Oof, shall we get your wand first, little star?" Laughing at my face, she nodded and folded the jacket gently. "Then we ought to get the trunk after, I don't think we can carry everything from the list."
Thankfully mum seemed more amused than annoyed at me dragging her and with my skipping, laughing when I looked around impatiently in search of the wand-maker as soon as I stepped inside the store.
Mum nudged me when I tried looking over the counter, pulling me back in time for Mr. Ollivander to pop up from where he was bent over. I couldn't help but salute the movies for finding someone that fit the same vibe as the weird son of a bitch staring us down, eyes wide like he never blinked once in his life, blue (so so so blue), and huge, an amused smile on his lips as I rocked on the heels of my feet waitingly.
"Ah, hello." His voice was weirdly soothing, nearly a whisper as he looked over my features and then eyed my mother, who tensed at the attention before he returned his eyes back at me. "First wand?"
"Yes, sir!" Mr. Ollivander chuckled quietly, smiling when I introduced myself and bowed his head gently, measuring the arm I raised and, eyeing me intently again. "Is it true that the trace happens as soon as the wand chooses me?"
"I fear not. The trace will be set in once you cross the Hogwarts' magical barriers for the first time, it should give you plenty of time to get acquainted with your new partner, yes?" He smiled knowingly as I giggled, face red at getting caught so easily before he disappeared in search of wands for me to try.
I wholeheartedly expected it to take long until a wand chose me, after all, that seemed normal in everything I had read, but it was still my second try when I knew it had found the one.
It was beautiful, the wood was light and had an almost pinkish tone to it, runes and swirls carved near the hilt, and I swore it had a little gold glitter dust to it. I wanted it even before I touched it, if only just because it was fucking gorgeous.
When Mr. Ollivander handed it to me, watching with those unblinking eyes, I sagged in relief as a warm feeling spread from my hand up my arm to my chest, circling my shoulders and nearly bringing tears to my eyes. If I couldn't see my mother from the corner of my eyes, I'd think she had embraced me in that way saved for special occasions, where she'd hold me just a little longer, patting my back as if I was still a babe.
Golden and pink sparks showered from the tip like glitter and I smiled widely at it.
Nice to meet you too.
"Ah, a great and rare match, I see. Beechwood, usually for second wands due to their want for matches wise beyond their years. I must warn you that it does not work well with the narrow-minded and intolerant, and when well-matched are for the ones fated with lustricious reputation. Affinity for charms and the more subtle arts too. Yes. Ah, dragon heartstring, a powerful core. Easy to learn spells. Nine inches, nice and flexible."
I was nearly shaking on the spot while mum paid and picked out a wand caring kit, reverently looking at my beauty of a wand before carefully strapping it to the wand holster I received the year before. There was no word to describe how it felt to have a wand. It was like I was finally complete like it sucked all the glum out of me. I loved it. I loved it.
"Alright, alright. Trunk, then the rest?"
"Can we leave everything back in our room and look around after we're done? I didn't know there were other Alleys!" Mum laughed and nodded, gently steering me around as I chatted her ear off, feeling warm that she didn't make any move to stop me from pestering her. I didn't think I'd ever get used to my mother loving me, it still felt surreal even if it has been a little over a decade already.
We picked a trunk and a messenger bag for my books, they came together and both also had a featherlight charm in it as well as my initials "L.M.M", which was so fucking weird to carry around, let me tell you. We kept opening it in the middle of the alley after picking up all the potion ingredients, cauldron, telescope, and whatnots, thinking we dropped them because it was still light, until one of us reminded the other about the charm.
From there we went to Madam Malkins for my clothes, and if mum kept sneaking more gloves, socks, cloaks, and robes, I pretended I didn't see. Then, after, was pretty much stationary store (there was a muggle corner and I took most of the post-its and highlighters), with notebooks and parchments, plenty of quills (mum said I'd snap plenty until I got the hang of it), a few pens for note-taking, and a cute fox keychain that doubled in three others and that let you buzz the others if you pressed on the gems that made the nose.
Mum has one and I was left with two.
Then. Finally.
Bookstore!
It had been the agreement that between the two of us, we'd get more distracted there and should leave it for last or we wouldn't get any of the shopping done.
When I turned around to talk with mum, the woman was already gone, shooting for the poem aisle before I had opened my mouth to call for her. With a snort, I made my way up to the used books, a thing I learned from my past life, I think.
It went like this: find the more used ones, are there any notes? Those are the ones with the right things, which means someone used them thoroughly. I didn't really care about new ones, I'd probably only use it for a year, and it was worth it for how the most important parts were already lines, and for the notes on the margins.
Score!
The only one I got new was Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I didn't need Magical Theory, I already had one with plenty of my own notes back at home, and the rest I found with great notes. My biggest flex was the History of Magic, which I had an idea would be a fucking drag, but whoever owned the book had worked hard and taken plenty of useful notes, even with the small scribbles of how Binns was boring.
With everything I needed in a basket, I moved out in search of my mum, snickering at the sight of her trying to balance the books that caught her eyes while keeping browsing.
"You have a problem, mum."
"We have a problem, don't make this just about me, missy." Laughing, I extended the basket so she could place her books inside it, smiling when she patted my head in thanks. "Are you sure you don't want new ones? You know we can afford."
"Yeah, these have notes. Will make it easier for me to study." She hummed and shooed me off for my own browsing. "Do I have a limit?"
"Ten."
"But you already have twel-"
" I will be all alone for most of the year! Do you want me to shrivel and wilt of boredom?"
"Yeah, yeah, milk it for all it's worth, grandma!"
"Grandma! Why you- "
Snickering, I raced away from her swats, still giggling as I looked around for anything interesting and pretended I didn't see the amused smile from the cashier watching us.
There were just so many. I picked one about jinxes and hexes, one from the Harry Potter Chronicles, just to see how much bullshit people expected from the kid, one about stars and old constellations, two poem books, a book about beauty spells and potions (I'm sorry, but there's a potion that stops hair from growing when applied to the spot?! Sign me up, it would come in handy one day.), a book of common household spells, for cleaning and cooking and whatnots, a history book about magic from other countries, an etiquette one (no bitch will catch me offending a wizard without realizing, all the offending will be done on purpose, thank you very much) and lastly, one about healing potions.
By the time I had my picks and had browsed some more, mum was happily chatting with the cashier, waiting for me while trading library secrets (not that I'd know, she never tells me).
"Ah, your girl has the same habits, I see." I snorted in sync with mum at his teasing, pressing against her side as she lifted the rest of the books into the counter.
" No one has the same habits as mum, sir." The cashier and I snickered when mum flushed hard, tsc-ing and flicking my forehead while the man looked amused between us, giving us the paper bags, waving his hand, and leaving them lighter than before. "Oh! How hard is it doing wandless magic? I read that your core has to be matured, but why does it matter if you can get a grasp of your magic? Do you need a specific kind of magic to-"
"Lils."
"Oh, sorry." The wizard laughed, raising a finger for us to wait before he disappeared between shelves, smiling amusedly down at me and handing me a thin worn book, tapping the cover with his knuckles once I grabbed in confusion.
"This has the theory and guides for casting wandless magic, it doesn't deal with specific spells, there are no teaching spells in there, but I think you'd like it."
He smiled again, eyeing my mother as I eagerly opened it, trailing my finger on the rough paper and the notes in the margins.
"Ah, how much-"
"Don't worry about it, ma'am. It's mine and I have long overgrown it."
"Oh! We can't accept it-"
"I insist."
Raising my eyes at my blushing mother, I eyed the wizard thoughtfully, looking back at my stuttering mother and pursing my lips, I watched the wizard smile gently and the top of his cheeks redden as my mother thanked him again.
Ah, the banes of having a gorgeous mum.
"Thank you, sir!" My chirp cut their awkward flirting short, both flushing even harder at my dazzling knowing smile. "I'll be sure to take care of it, if I'm done with it before going to Hogwarts, maybe mum can bring it back!"
"Lilium!" Pursing my lips to hold back my snicker, I raised a brow at the flushed cashier, seeing the amused twinkle in his eyes as he cleared his throat.
"Ah, maybe if she returns in time, I'll have another book for you before classes start again."
"Great! She'll come back!"
"Oh, my- Goodbye! It was great knowing you, Mr. Sullivan! Let's go, Lils." Winking at the amused cashier, I let mum drag me out and away from the bookstore, finally snickering when she glared half-heartedly at me. "You're a bloody menace." Her hiss only made me laugh louder, clasping her hand with mine as she sighed exasperatedly.
"I'm your bloody menace."
"Lord have mercy on your professors and head of House."
"Oi! "
✦✦✦
The next day, when we finally took a train back home, I was thoroughly engrossed in the theory of wandless magic while painting my nails with the charmed nail polish we found at Horizontal Alley, it changed to whatever colour and pattern I wanted and it would never chip even if I bit on it, it would only come out if I used the magical remover it came with, and mum let me buy it as long as I didn't change it to red or black. (Apparently, those colours were saved only for when I was fourteen, go figures.)
So with a dashing glittering baby blue with stars, I was left to read my gifted book. There was a part talking about the historical side of wandless magic, how it was left behind due to its difficulty in practice, being exchanged to staffs, then wands, with the need for easier protection of young witches and wizards around the time of the Witch trials, but that it was not only possible, but not hard, once you practiced.
The guides started with meditation and advised for settlement of one's magical core, not because it was dangerous, just that it was more difficult since the core wasn't large nor had enough strength to hold spells without aid (ergo, the use of wands and staffs when you're young).
Mr. Sullivan (Hugh), left plenty of notes about his thoughts on it and his process of learning it, starting from imagining his magic as a physical thing, and how he thought it better to start with the most basic charms, there were funny tidbits about how he accidentally stupefied someone when he flicked his hand too hard, or how more than once he knocked himself out by putting too much magic in summoning something.
A nice reminder for me to take my bloody time with things, we don't need another raining incident.
Speaking of raining incident.
"Hey! If we had the money, why did you take all those shifts to pay for my little accident?" Mum lifted her eyes from her own book, raising a brow and staring me down enough to make me squirm in my seat before smirking and shrugging, looking out the window at the blurring scenery.
"Guilt works wonders, doesn't it? You did stop with the secret lessons."
"You're scary."
"You'll get there yet, honey." Shaking my head and shuddering, I looked back at the book, ignoring her snickers as I concentrated again on understanding the physics of not using a wand.
The next months were spent going over my books, both for my classes, and the ones I deemed important.
Ok, turns out etiquette was a thing and mum had been instilling it in me since- well, forever. When asked about it she looked like I had just told her the earth was flat, seriously.
"What? Do you think I'd raise a simple someone?! You're the only living witch of an old magical family! Mother would've come back from the grave if I didn't make sure you kept your bony elbows off the table! You think I would raise a mouth breather or a sloucher?!"
So, yeah. That book was a bust and a little bit of a waste.
It did have some very cool tips though, felt a lot like reading 100 rules to make others quiver at your feet, very interesting and mum read it after I was done.
The beauty spells and the home cleaning ones were very useful, though. Mum also approved of how nice my hairstyles were and how fast I was done with them, once I got them down and stopped knotting my hair badly enough we considered cutting it off. The potions for acne and hair removal weren't needed yet, and mum had a fit when I tried the glamour ones that seemed a lot like I was wearing makeup, so I also had to table that use for when I turned fourteen, but she greatly encouraged my training in the house cleaning spells and told me it would be great to keep my side of the dorm tidy.
(Apparently, house-elves clean, but they do not tidy anything. No touching personal objects, so if I leave a book on the floor, on the floor it will stay until I pick it up.)
The healing potions book was alright, some looked easy to brew, some were so intricate and complex that I had to take days to understand how it would work, and some I couldn't read half of what it did let alone how to brew. Seeing as I wouldn't really be needing it yet, it was just nice to be familiarised with them.
The one that I would be needing and was mighty useful and fun were of jinxes and hexes, not that I expected to truly use it, but if I hear that someone is giving a hard time to one of my friends, whoever they might be, I'd be ready.
It was also great movement practice, and I was starting to see some patterns in the spells. I was sure it had something to do with Arithmancy's number of letters or some bullshit, but I was too scared of testing my theory and doing something bad, so I contented myself with training the movements and incantations separately.
And the one book I thought I'd hate reading, but found myself thoroughly enjoying, was (surprisingly) the first book of the Harry Potter Chronicles. They very clearly were not true, no seven-year-old would've been able to tame a chimera or be a king, but damn if it wasn't entertaining reading it! Very well written and great fantasy.
It was sad that it was books like those that painted a picture of a little boy, though. How unfair it was for the Wizarding world to have an idea of this kid and be mad at him for not being it.
Either way, I forced myself not to buy the next ones (even if I really wanted to), because I didn't want to support them any more than I already did, and busied myself with studying and practicing my spellwork. Transfiguration was a little hard for me, but I managed after a few frustrating tries. The wand works pretty well for Charms, though. Just like Mr. Ollivander had told me, and it's not like it's terrible at Transfiguration, and my difficulty might just be because I still have a hard time believing and getting in my head that the matter does not change, it just looks like it did.
But, oh well.
The night before September 1st had us at the Leaky Cauldron, sleeping in the same bed as if I was still a little kid waking up from a nightmare about loud noises and pretty light orbs and climbing on mum's bed. To be honest, we didn't really sleep, just talked quietly through the night and napped a little, and almost missed breakfast the next morning.
My stomach was in knots the whole morning, and it didn't help that mum was always tearing up whenever she looked at me while I got ready or when we ate. Tom seemed to have sympathized with her because we got free tea and we both tactfully pretended not to see her wiping the tears from her cheeks while he told me about his own time at Hogwarts.
Then, we took a taxi to King's Cross and the nice driver placed my trunk in a trolley (maybe he also heard mum sniffling and me reassuring her that I'd write her every week), but then she guided me in front of the passage between Platform 9 and 10, pulling me into a tight hug that genuinely cut off my breath, and I had to discreetly take a deep one once she released me to brush my curls away from my face, cupping my cheeks and giving me a watery smile.
"You be good, yes? Try not to take over Hogwarts, tell me what house you're in, about any friends you make and learn lots, ok? Listen to your teacher and- and-" She broke in a cry and I quickly followed, pulling her into a hug of my own, squeezing her hard enough for her to remember as I sobbed into her chest.
"I'm going to miss you, mommy. "
"Oh, my little star." She held my face again once I pulled away, brushing away my tears and just taking in my expression. "I'll miss you too, mo rionnag bheag."
My little star.
I hiccupped again at her use of Gaelic, ignoring the sympathetic looks from the few wizarding families leaving their own children and crossing the barrier, it was so rare for her to use. It reminded her too much of her lost sister and parents, and I still remember how much she cried whenever she taught it to me because it was part of our heritage, but it still hurt so much.
"Tha gaol agam ort, mama."
"I love you too, my little star. You go now, yeah?" Nodding and drawing in a wet breath, I let her wipe away my tears and got another hug in before finally taking a hold of my cart and crossing the barrier, stopping myself from looking over my shoulder lest I decide that no, the wizarding world can go fuck and fix itself and stay with my mum.
I couldn't, not when I held out and came this far.
Notes:Who knows, I'm itchy, I might post again tomorrow! I have no backbone! hooray! (until now I have written until chapter 8, but I might break a few up because they are l o n g. Like, over 7k long. If I break them up I'll end up posting more through the week, so, who knows. Heh, I'm starting to get to the nice stuff, though the real REAL good stuff starts happening around the third book, in this first work though, around chapter 9/10 we start to get on the interactions, their personality changes and how oc deals with what happens, and we see more of things that seemed logical but just,,, did not,,, happen,,, in the books.
Anyways, I'm excited, yall!