Darkness. Then—pain. Screaming. Light.
The last thing I remember was dying — alone, somewhere far from this world. And now, I'm… crying? A voice—gentle yet desperate—whispers my name. "Harry…"
No. That's not right. My thoughts are my own. I shouldn't even be able to think clearly, yet everything feels wrong, small… weak.
I try to move, but tiny arms flail uselessly. That's when it hits me — I've been reborn.
A cold breeze seeps through shattered walls. The smell of smoke and death fills the air. A woman lies motionless beside me — red hair spilled like blood on the floor. Lily Potter. And nearby, a man slumped against the wall — James.
And between the broken remnants of this home lies the corpse of Voldemort himself, his wand fallen beside him.
My mind races. Think. I might be a baby, but my mind… my soul… isn't. I can't let this all be lost.
I focus, summoning every ounce of magic I can feel within this tiny body. "T-Tinky…" I murmur, remembering the Potter family's ancient connection to their house elves.
With a pop, a small elf appears, eyes wide with shock. "M-Mistress Potter?"
"Yes… take everything important," I whisper through telepathic intent. "All wands. Family heirlooms. Books. Anything you can save. Hide them. Protect them."
The elf bows deeply, vanishing and reappearing again and again, packing the Potter legacy before the Ministry arrives.
Moments later, the door bursts open. A man in black robes rushes in — Snape. His face contorts as he sees Lily's body. He falls to his knees beside her, trembling.
Then his gaze meets mine.
His tears stop for a moment as he stares. "Lily's… daughter…" he whispers, voice breaking.
My heart clenches. I'm not her, not really — yet my reflection in his eyes tells me I look so much like her it hurts. My hair is dark auburn, not black. My eyes — green, identical to hers.
He leans closer, confusion twisting into sorrow. "She has her eyes…"
No, Snape. I have her eyes. And I will never forget this.
The next few minutes blur together. Sirius bursts in, wild-eyed and broken. He holds me close, whispering apologies and curses in equal measure. But then Hagrid arrives, huge and solemn.
There's an argument, shouting, tears — but in the end, I'm carried away, wrapped in blankets that still smell faintly of Lily's perfume.
The night air is cold. I barely understand what's happening, but I feel it — destiny shifting. History, repeating.
When Hagrid leaves me on a doorstep under the cold gaze of Number 4 Privet Drive, I stare up at the stars, my infant body still and quiet.
"I was a man once," I think to myself. "Now I'm the Girl Who Lived."
The wind stirs the note tucked in my blanket. Somewhere far away, the world begins to move again — unaware that Harry Potter has been reborn… and that fate itself will never be the same.