Summary:A disgruntled millennial is dropped into the infant body of actual genius Hermione Granger. With brainpower, determination, and foreknowledge of what is to come, she's ready and willing to wage total war on the wannabe magical fascists that infect her new world, becoming the Morrigan Reborn.
Notes:with regards to the other story that I've been able to keep going lately, I'm planning on alternating this and Strings weekly
Chapter 1Chapter TextYou know, I really hate that feeling of waking up one morning and realizing that I'm a baby. Or an infant, or something. I don't really spend time around children of any flavor, and also moving is hard and I can't get a proper look at myself, so I can't really tell.
Somewhere beyond the high walls of my baby-prison, I can hear two men having a conversation.
"Coventry City is a shoe-in for the FA cup this year, I'm telling you."
Oh god.
"That's absurd, Coventry City have never won the Fa Cup, and they never will win the FA Cup. They have nothing on Liverpool."
Oh good lord no.
"Liverpool! That's just bally absurd."
I have a question, for god.
"Just because Liverpool Rugby is hardly up to snuff doesn't mean that football is doomed."
Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?
"Ah, and now you've set the babe to crying."
What have I ever done to deserve to be British?
As it turns out, things have only gotten worse. Not only am I British, I'm Hermione Granger. Meaning that not only is Britain Britain, it also has an entire secret magical society that practically enslaves entire races, a bunch of goblins that rooted in blatant antisemitism, and the ultimate conflict beteen ineffective liberals (and that's being generous) and incompetent fascists with fucking evil ass-magic.
On the bright side, at least I can try to get a head start on figuring some magic for myself, so that I won't be totally defenseless against the shitstorm that is magical Britain. I know I'm magical, after all, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure something out, right?
I'm sure if Tom Riddle could figure out how to compulse people in an orphanage as a child I can figure out how to make this ugly mobile that I have to stare at for hours a day spin.
Right?
I need this to work, just so I have something to bloody well focus on already, so I'll just try to get this mobile above my head to spin. That should be relatively simple magic, yeah?
SPIN DAMN YOU, SPIN!
It's been a week. A week of staring at this stupid thing dnagling above my head and trying to make it move its lazy ass as my only form of entertainment, and nothing is happening. It's driving me crazy. Sure, I'm not all that conscious most of the time, but still! Give me fucking something to work with here damnit!
I scream, venting my rage at this stupid world and stupid magic and the utter fucking bullshit that is being stuck like this again.
It's a frustratingly short-lived scream, considering my tiny lungs, but a scream of rage nonetheless, a full-blown tantrum of boredom and frustration. I hate being stuck in a situation like this, I despise it, and I refuse to let things sit.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!
I glare and tremble, all my raging fury and frustration aimed at the damn mobile as it sits there, silently taunting me with its refusal to comply.
There's a slowly growing tingling beneath my skin, but I ignore it in favor of further venting my rage. This should be possible damnit, people must have been able to use their magic on purpose before wands were invented!
I scream again as the tingling intensifies, emptying my tiny lungs until the mobile jerks, making my heart jerk along with it, then spontaneously goes flying away and (if the sound of broken glass is any indicator) clear through a window somewhere. It's a rush, powerful as I feel the magic flowing along my skin and heady as I lay back, content to ignore the shouting around me and bask in pride and accomplishment.
First telekinesis, next I shall master walking, and then after....the world.
Finally, now that I at least know what using magic feels like, I can really get to work at using it on purpose. Given my memories of a magicless life, the magic in me is really obvious. I'm honestly not sure how I didn't feel it before, maybe it was asleep? It's a lot harder to bring forth the buzz of magic without the same built up anger and frustration, but now that I've done it once it's a little easier to do. Focusing on the feeling of my magic, I raise my hand towards the new mobile above me and deliberately pull up just a little bit of that same frustration I used last time, letting the magic begin to flow before I grab hold of it and try to shape it for myself.
Early magic is an emotionally induced thing, I'm guessing, but I want to be able to control it properly. Until then, I have enough control that I can force myself to feel what I need well enough to use it as a crutch. It gets a little easier every time.
I've even managed to use it to snatch a few actual books off the walls around me. It's a great distraction, even if they inevitably end up being confiscated by my poor, confused parents. It's really annoying that I can't just talk to them yet, but an infant capable of talking in full sentences would NOT go over well.
With at least some degree of okay control over my magic and the ability to telekinetically fetch things on purpose without breaking them, I've decided to try moving on to something trickier. Legilimency.
After all, if old Tommy boy can do it by accident, I can do it on purpose.
So far, this has only ended up with me spending every possible moment staring directly into the eyes of my parents or anyone else who approaches me, doing my best to sort of gather my magic in my head or my eyes and direct it to take that expression about the eyes being the gateway to the soul literally.
Which of course is similarly not really working out. I've tried pushing and pulling and all sorts of things on a conceptual sort of level, and so far I'm not getting a damn thing.
On one hand, thank fuck I don't have any abuse happening to me to motivate me to get it right, and most likely won't in the future. On the other hand, this is annoyingly difficult, and I continue to hate being a baby with no meaningful awareness of my general situation and surroundings. Something that might possibly hit on some of my issues and is driving me up the wall with anxiety.
When the only real spell you have is general TK, you practice it a lot. It's such a useful effect with such a high power ceiling, too. I start exercises to levitate groups of my toys, as well as practicing controlling a number of different objects independently. I wouldn't be happy until I put both Glynda Goodwitch and Penny Polendina to shame, all wandlessly. It'll be a very useful skill, for both attack and defense. I'm not exactly planning on going full Dark Lady, but...well, given my absolute lack of respect for the corrupt kakistocracy that wixen call a government, I'm not going to let them push me around if it comes down to it either.
Six months of shitting myself (I really can't understate how much being an infant sucks) and getting more and more anxious about my inability to tell what's going on in the outside world I finally hit a temper tantrum/breakthrough. Once again my magic rises, contorts itself, and slams into my poor father's eyes, giving him the mother of all headaches and me a glimpse into his thoughts and recent memories. This is going to take practice, a lot of practice. Sorry mom and dad, but consider this repayment for the restful nights you've been having since I'm not exactly a normal infant.
Things progress from there, slowly but regularly. Finally developing okay motor skills does a lot to help the boredom, as now I can actually get around and read mostly whatever books I like when my parents aren't watching me closely. They like to coo over their little reader, but their tone makes it clear they don't believe she's actually reading. Jokes on them.
Being able to move around as a... toddler? Probably something like that.
Being able to move around as a toddler brings its own frustrations though, as now that I can get around I'm constantly surrounded by too high doorknobs and shelves and the like, and even if those do tend to make decent telekinesis practice as I gain more and more control and power, I can hardly do that while I'm being watched. Not being able to ask for the basic ability to get around my own home is vastly frustrating on its own level.
Inevitably, that leads me into finally figuring out compulsions. On a simple, instinctual level at least. Like with legilimency, it's a tricky thing to actually get working on a controlled level beyond strong intention, though I do eventually manage to get it all to work, at least.
That's the last bit of accidental magic that I pull off before I'm old enough to be sent off to school, at least.
And school is its own little horror as well, of course. Mostly one of boredom. I already know everything being taught except local history, which I don't particularly care about anyway, and I can hardly be bothered to interact with young teenagers, much less tiny children just starting grade school. I even have to go so far as to pretend to pay attention to the classes, and can't manage to bring any actual books to school with me without them being confiscated because they're clearly too complicated for me.
The fucking condescension of it all pisses me off.
So naturally, when my teachers inevitably realize how laughably easily I'm 'learning' everything, I'm eager to skip a grade in the hope that I can at least pretend to be slightly interested in what's going on and be taken a little bit more seriously. And if I happen to get a bit overzealous with the compulsion charms to have the teachers begin testing me harder and harder and begin ignoring the books I bring in, well that's nobody's business but mine.
Of course, the absolute worst part of excelling is having to deal with the tiny psychopaths. I mean, children. It didn't take long for me to be recognized as a genius and to begin jumping grades like clockwork every term or so, to my parent's delight. What is less delightful is the way children have no tolerance for anything different. They work in groupstoo, like bloody piranhas or something, so charming them isn't even that much of a solutions because they just get set back on track by the powers of fucking groupthink.
They harass me, steal and hide my things, and worst of all, interfere with my reading. It's endlessly irritating, and I have no way of dealing with it. I tragically can't just launch them out the nearest window because I'd rather not get attention from magical Britain for breaking Secrecy.
It all comes to a head one day in class as the teacher is lecturing. I'm sitting as usual, slumped over and thinking about anything other than the present until I hear a snip. I turn around, and the boy behind me is holding a chunk of hair, a pair of scissors in his other hand.
Time seems to pause as I realize what's going on. My hand trembles, my chest tightens. My hair is precious. It's mine. It was the only thing I had that I was happy about for a long time, Before. I love having long, soft hair. I've never even gotten it cut here.
My breath quickens as I teeter between acting on my hate or my pain, but I fold, burying my face in my hands as I scream tears its way from my lungs hard enough that it hurts my throat.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I pull in my shoulders, trying to reduce my appearance, wanting to disappear and just be away from people already. Trembling shivers run down my spine as I lurch from side to side in my chair, unsteady and weak as tears blind me. "Alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone." My words slur, breaking down to the silent moving of my mouth as I slowly come to realize that no one is noticing me.
And that I'm using magic.
I'm notice-me-not-ing myself right now, aren't I?
Well that's just great, it only took an extended period of bullying and being assaulted.
I shudder again.
Never mind, i'm just going to enjoy this opportunity to not be bothered by anyone while I'm at school.
Best to pretend this never happened.
Alright, I'm not going to neglect the absurdly good opportunity that is being able to go unnoticed and compel people to do things that I want to. I'm not settling for what little magical knowledge I can scrape together off the bones of self-study and distress-induced accidental magic. I need to get money, then I need to get to Diagon Alley to exchange it for galleons, then I need to get some proper magical self-study supplies. I don't need a wand to make potions, after all. Or to study Runes. Or Astronomy. Or Arithmancy.
Of course, as a child, my only option to gain money is to take it from someone. Fortunately, London in the 80s and 90s has a bit of a drug problem. Which means it has a bit of a drug dealer problem. And drug dealers are flush with cash, as well as being acceptable targets.
So, all it takes is a compulsion on my parents not to care that I'm gone, then I just wander around for a while under a notice-me-not in search of a dealer. A 7 year old walking around on her own would be weird as hell, after all. Once I've found one, I drop in a compulsion that they should check in on their stash, then follow them to it, taking extra care to keep the charm up and to compel them not to pay attention to me.
After that, I just have to grab a duffel bag (of cash, not drugs, I triple checked) and carry it home telekinetically while still keeping up the charm. It's easy to carry, where even a year or two ago I probably would have had trouble with it. These days I can control four objects at once, smoothly and separately.
Unfortunately, stealing takes a lot of walking around, and I feel nearly magically and physically exhausted by the time I get back and stash away the bag, but it's worth it.
Finding the Leaky Cauldron using only books of maps is a massive pain, though. I miss the internet so much. So, so very much. I'll happily let Google track me and sell my data if it means I never have to spend hours combing through maps ever again.
It's not much of a walk, at least. I bring along an appropriately-sized satchel full of cash, then just ask the bartender to let me into Diagon Alley because I'm on an errand to pick up potion supplies for my mum, giving him my best innocent child look.
He buys it, at least, and lets me in.
It's fucking weird, walking into an entire anachronistic alleyway, sparsely filled with shoppers in an array of clothing that's pretty much modern, except that it's all woven in one manner or another, with no synthetic materials. Really, there are a lot fewer robes than I'd expect, and also less bustle, but I guess it's not so busy or high-class when people aren't preparing for schooling.
At least I won't actually stand out too much in my skirt and long-sleeved shirt, though as I walk further down the street and closer to Gringotts the people around me transition into being a bunch of dour-looking professionals who are all wearing robes.
It feels so awkward waiting in line inside of a (thankfully Star of David-free, I'm not sure I could have taken it if that blatant bit of anti-semitism made it into my new reality) bank with a bunch of adults. At least they ignore me as much as I ignore them.
I step up to the teller, who ignores me. I give him a minute to handle business before I clear my throat, causing the goblin to peer over his tall desk at me. "Hello, Teller. I'd like to exchange muggle currency for Galleons."
The teller scowls at me. "Currency exchange is only available to Muggleborn and businesses." That was not mentioned in the books. Fortunately, this is an easy hurdle. "I am muggleborn."
"Name?" The goblin drawls out.
"Hermione Granger."
The goblin takes a moment to write in a ledger, and then checks something. Satisfied, he looks down at me again. "How much money are you looking to convert today?"
I open my sachet, revealing how it's packed with rolls of money. I managed to fit eight stacks of twenty dollar bills without making it bulge too obviously. "Four thousand pounds sterling."
"The current exchange rate is 50 pounds to the Galleon." Well, that's certainly not canon. I lift my sachet up to him with telekinesis, which gets only a raised eyebrow. He empties it and refills it with 80 galleons. I end up having to carry it with my telekinesis, gold is heavy and I am still small. "Thank you for your time, Teller."
I swiftly depart the bank with my small fortune. The coins are bloody heavy, but I use telekinesis to subtly help me lift the bag proper. First stop? A luggage shop, I want a bag of holding, damn it.
A bell jingles softly as I push open the door to McBrymont's Storage Supplies, a small shop with walls covered in flowery wallpaper and stuffed to the brim with various bags and containers, all enchanted, obviously. I make straight for the desk, lifting my arms up high to deposit my money bag on the counter with a heavy thunk. There's a man behind it, white-haired with a big scratchy-looking beard.
"Are ye all right there, little lass?" The man asks, leaning forward to peer down at me with a concerned look.
"I'm running errands for my mum." I pout. Bloody adults, I can take care of myself. "I need a coin purse, an ingredients satchel, and a haversack please."
"I'll say you do," he chuckles, poking at the bag full of gold coins. "How did you even carry that here, miss...?"
"Granger. And I have my ways..." I narrow my eyes at him, unable to come up with a decent lie.
"Alright, alright." He lifts his hands in surrender, then leads me into the rows of luggage and to a collection of what are essentially leather fanny packs. "Now, do you need one with a preservation charm or without? Undetectable extension and featherweight charms are standard on everything, of course."
I consider it. "Are there any alchemical reasons not to use one with a preservation charm?"
"Not that I know of. Some ingredients are only useful for so long with or without it, but I don't think it interferes with anything."
"And how much extra is the charm?"
"Half a galleon."
"With it, then." I nod firmly.
He nods, then moves slightly to the right, where a bunch of bags that look more like sacks hang from display pegs. "Now here are the general-purpose sacks. Is there anything in particular you're looking for here?"
Wait, haversacks are just backpacks? Ugh, I hate outdated terminology. I quietly roll my eyes at all the archaism and move on.
"Do you have anything muggle-repellent?"
"Plenty. Entirely undetectable, or just easily ignored?"
"Undetectable."
"One of these, then." He gestures at the bottom row of packs, and I pick out a plain black one that's simple enough to not stand out.
"Right. Next we have coin purses." Also conveniently nearby, he gestures at a rack full of various smaller pouches. "All of these are similar. The main variety is in size and make. Mokeskin will shrink itself down and hide from anyone not its owner, but it's rather expensive." He says, presenting a bag made from some strange, dark-green skin.
"How expensive?"
"Eight galleons."
Well, it's a bit much, but considering that I still have a bag full of cash to change later, I might as well get it. "I'll take two, I think. How does one transfer ownership of it? Or let someone else be around while they use it?" One of these can go to Harry, I think. Get the poor kid an opportunity to smuggle in some food if I make an effort to slot myself into his life and get an in on all the chosen one bullshit.
"Ye just say that someone is a friend, and it recognizes when it's being given away."
"Good, good." I tent my fingers together as I smile and do my best Palpatine impression.
He blinks, then turns around and takes me back to the counter. "Well, yer total comes out to two hundred fifty galleons."
I stare at the bag full of coins. "Please tell me there's an easy way to count that out."
"Aye. First, fill the purse, then tilt it and say how much ye need."
"Of course." How convenient. I open the normal satchel and dig one of the mokeskin purses into it, letting the coins fall into it in a practical tide of gold until it's empty. Then I place it on top of the counter. "Twenty-five galleons."
The coins that pour out are then caught by the attendant doing something with his wand, then sending them into a nearby sack that's attached to the wall one way or another.
I thank the shopkeeper, slide my haversack on, put the mokeskin pouch around my neck, and leave. Next stop? Flourish and Blotts. I'm going to drop a fortune on books and no one can stop me.
There's a big display right at the front of the store, proudly proclaiming itself to contain 'the adventures of the girl-who-lived.' Which, knowing what I...
Wait, girl who lived?
I snatch a book off the shelf and open it, hurriedly scanning through for a name. Holly Potter.
I sigh, running a hand nervously through my hair. Ah, fuck.
Right, uh, fuck. I guess I should have known I couldn't expect one to one metaknowledge to apply here, but still. It's a little freaky.
On the other hand, girls are good. I love girls, so all the more reason to take her under my wing and maybe do a little wife husbandry in the process. It's not manipulative if you genuinely care about getting someone out of a bad situation, right?
Well, I'm not paying for this junk anyway, so I put the book back and continue on into the shop proper.
The shopkeep barely glances at me when I enter, though when I grab a basket and set another two to levitating behind me he begins staring, as do a few of the other customers in the shop. I ignore them the best I can, doing my best to project the sense that I belonged there as I begin to fill the baskets with books. The Book of Charms & Spells, Magical Drafts and Potions, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Magical Theory, all seven grades of The Standard Book of Spells, books on beginning Arithmancy and Runes, an expensive book on Occlumency, and more went into the baskets, until they're practically overflowing. I float the baskets over to the counter and smile innocently up at the Shopkeeper, who is still gaping at me.
"Hello there! I'd like these books please." I'm quite convinced that my innocent child act is excellent, really.
"Ah, right." The worker takes the books with a defeated look on his face, stacking them all up as he looks over the tags and adds up the price in his head. "That'll be 42 galleons."
What a surprisingly small amount. That's significantly less than a hundred pounds each, which is way cheaper than college textbooks. It's a significant amount of my money, but I've got more for future trips, and I'll be able to carry more then as well.
Besides, last on the list is a basic potions kit, though I won't be bothering with any ingredients when I don't actually know what I'll be making. I do take the opportunity to ask the apothecary about potential treatments for malnutrition and get pointed towards nutrition potions, which is honestly a sign that this world might be 'fanon'. I'll wait on buying those until I wait to see if I can meet Holly. Or brew them myself, if it's not hard.
I'm content to leave with my last stop completed, but Magical Menagerie manages to catch my eye as I'm leaving.
...I could get a familiar. I think. It'd be nice to have a pet to help me be less lonely sometimes. A little social interaction would be nice.
Yeah, all right, I head in and look around. There are a lot of owls, and some of the animals are noisy, but I'm much more interested in the quiet sorts. Cats are nice, and I'm sure there are plenty of other interesting animals here, but honestly snakes are where it's at.
Not in an oh, look at me I'm imitating Moldy Mort just to mess with people way, mind you. I just think they're cute. No, not cute, snakes are the best. They have cute boopy snoots and smooth soft scales and they coil all around things, which is basically a hug but cooler. I love snakes, and I always have.
Honestly, I'm jealous as fuck that Holly's a Parselmouth. I want to talk to snakes too! I wonder if maybe the language itself can be taught...
I sigh and push my fantasies of talking to snakes away, focusing on the animals in front of me as I press against the glass and take a good look at them. There are a few different kinds of snake here, but there's one that stands out, I think.
Already about two feet long and impressively thick, it stares at me through the glass with eyes set in a long head that's slightly wider than its body. The splotchy red pattern on its scales runs all the way from its head to its tail, bits and pieces of cream breaking up the color of blood at erratic intervals in a way that makes it all seem to dance.
"Well you're a pretty one, now aren't you?" I smile as it bobs its head in a single, long sinuous motion. Testingly, I let a little bit of magic trickle from my fingers and the snake lunges forward a little as I feel something clicking into place, tongue tasting the air.
Do I have a familiar now? It can't be that easy, right?
Well, it's not like I'm not going to take her anyway.
"Let's see... I'll name you Eden. What do you think?"
Eden bobs her head in a way that I choose to interpret as being approval.
"Right then." I lift up the terrarium she was being kept in and look at the main counter. "I'd like this snake, please."
Well, now that I've got study materials and an entire two foot long snake that's in fact only going to be getting bigger, there's really no point in continuing to try and hide things from my parents. I'll need to set up a potions laboratory somewhere, after all.
So here I stand in front of my parents with a large snake wrapped around my shoulders, watching them give me concerned looks as they probably only avoid panicking because I sent them a compulsion assuring them that Eden isn't a threat, because them freaking out about snake hugs would be annoying.
"Mom, dad, I'm a witch." Also I'm a lesbian, but we can save that one for later.
My parents share confused looks, hesitating for an annoyingly long time as they try to find a way to respond to my bold claims.
"Here, I'll help you out with the whole magic is real thing." I sigh, then snatch up a book from a nearby shelf with telekinesis and start orbiting it around my head like it's Aimee Mann in the Time Stand Still music video.
Oh shit, I went back in time so I can go to Rush concerts now. And Black Sabbath, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Judas Priest, even Mastodon (even if they were still touring when I died everyone knows they stopped being any good after Crack the Skye).
That's almost worth not having the internet anymore.
"Huh..." my dad stares contemplatively at the book. "This explains so much."
"Is that why you have a snake now?" Mum asks, entirely calm.
Honestly, it's a bit disappointing that they're not even all that surprised. Maybe I put too much force into the compulsion? Or maybe I'm just that weird of a child.
I guess I basically never talk or listen to them, so maybe it's a reasonable reaction?
"Rude. I'm a delight. And yes, is Eden and she's my familiar." I nod, proudly showing off Eden as she hugs my neck tighter. "She's a blood python, isn't she pretty?"
Mom sounds a little strained when she replies "She's lovely, dear."
Eden hisses happily as I reach up and pet the smooth scales under her head.
"Are you sure she won't hurt anyone?" My dad asks, still at least a little cautious of my cutie.
I roll my eyes at him. "Only if I tell her to."
"And why exactly would you do that?"
I smile angelically. "Self-defense."
"Right." For some reason, mom doesn't seem to entirely trust me with the power to enact violence whenever I want. Weird. "So... are there other witches or something then?"
"That's right. You have to keep the fact that I'm a witch a secret, however. Due to the witch burnings, wixen separated from non-magicals a few centuries back and now live in isolated communities in secret. The secrecy is maintained by the wizarding special police who fortunately only remove people's memories as opposed to...well, silencing the witnesses. Technically, we're only supposed to be introduced to magic when I'm 11 and I get invited to a magical boarding school to start my magical education and integration into their world, but I'm a natural mind-reader and mages are actually pants at behaving normally in magical society so I discovered this early."
My mom looks heartbroken as she asks a quiet question that turns into an emotional wrecking ball. "Is that why you don't really act like you're our child?"
I make a soft, strangled noise, unable to continue with the flippance. "Um... that's..."
I don't know how to handle this. In all practical respects, I don't have parents. I don't want parents. I don't trust the idea of having parents.
"I've been a bit of a cunt to you, haven't I?"
Ugh, now I just feel like shit. I turn my head to the side and bury my face in Eden's coils as best I can. It's not like I was ever going to be any different, but I probably should have tried to have some kind of relationship with them.
Except that I wouldn't be an equal unless I fessed up.
Fuck it, second life, second chance to have parents that I give a shit about, and that give a shit about me.
"I'm reincarnated. I remember my old life and for most intents and purposes I'm pretty much an adult. That's why... you know. Most of the weirdness, and the whole genius thing. I mean, I kind of suck at algebra but that's not going to stop me from knowing how fractions work, and I can still do calculus well enough anyway." I twirl my hair around my finger nervously, not daring to look at the people who are technically my parents. "But I'm just sort of... used to having parents who aren't worth a damn. You deserved to have an actual child, one that would be part of your world. Instead you got me. It's not my fault, but I'm sorry."
My eyes are fixed on my shoes and I'm doing my best to untangle the knot of emotions in my chest as I hear two chairs gently scraping against the floor and footsteps approaching me.
Right, I'll give them one good hit since I've been fucking with their heads and then I'm out of here, I guess.
I'm surprised when two pairs of arms wrap around me in a hug that I'm too distraught to consider turning down, the two of them having come to kneel on either side of me.
"So, we got off to a weird start." Dad admits. "Maybe you don't need to be raised, but adults can still have a loving family in their lives, and we've got to live together for a while longer anyway. So how about you just consider us your adoptive parents?"
"I…okay. Sure, that's fine. It makes things a lot easier, too, if I can work with you instead of around you like I have been." I sigh, doing my best to not acknowledge how much I needed a hug. "And I guess there's one more thing. There's this... friend, in Surrey, that I need to meet." Meet slash save, although I don't really think I have a way to get her out of there properly.
"Are they...like you?" My mom's question is hesitant, clearly she's still rather unsettled about the whole thing.
"Reincarnated? No. They are, however, a prophecy child. It's my job to help them, no one else will." A self-assigned job is a job nonetheless, after all.
"...What is this prophecy?"
"Sorry, but I'm not the only mind-reader among wixen and without magic of your own you can't defend your mind. The exact details will have to stay with me. Suffice it to say the prophecy has repercussions for all of Britain."
"A prophecy child who will affect all of Britain and a reincarnated mage who has to help them?" My dad grins. "This isn't Merlin and King Arthur, is it?"
I just smile enigmatically at them. I can work with that assumption.
"Well, anyway, the sooner we can start getting on top of things and learning magic the better, because things are going to get nasty."
Honestly, inadvertently convincing my parents that I'm Merlin reborn is...pretty scummy, but it should take the sting off of being very much not their daughter.
They might be inclined to give me significant latitude if they believe I have a higher calling as well, which factors into my decision not to correct my father's assumption.
Even if I certainly don't expect to be anything like a hero in how I go about all of this. They don't need to know that, at least, and maybe I'll end up parents that I really do care about.
That would be nice.
Chapter 2: Childhood IINotes:Here's a bonus chapter because our backlog on this is huge
Chapter Text"So, less than a decade ago Magical Britain began dealing with their equivalent to Hitler. And the Allies were losing. BADLY. Fate decided to intervene, which leads to Holly. Her parents did some really powerful, sacrificial Old Magic, exchanging martyrdom for their Holly's life and the destruction of Magical Hitler when he came personally to kill them and their baby. Their gambit worked, and Magical Hitler was disembodied, which caused the magical Nazi party to collapse."
"However, Magical Britain is honestly a bit of a corrupt cesspit, so they absolutely bungled their equivalent of the Nuremberg trials. The vast majority of Wannabe Hitler's top lieutenants walked. Furthermore, Magical Hitler isn't actually dead, even though the majority of the public believe that he is. He's just severely weakened. So Holly still has a role to play, to bring the conflict to a close and bring Wizarding Britain into a new era. However in order to fulfill this destiny she has to actually survive to her majority. So the Allies General took her parent's sacrifice and reworked it into a stationary protection, a ward. The problem is that he needed a living member of Holly's family to do so, and the only person who qualified was Holly's aunt...who is non-magical, and has a jealous hatred of all things magical. Which means she hates Holly. The Allies figured it would be better to have an abused savior than a dead one, so she was ultimately placed here. I'm here to help alleviate the abuse as much as I possibly can, as well as protect her during her schooling. Any questions?"
"How bad is this abuse, exactly?" Mom asks, her voice pinched as she turns onto Privet Drive.
"Starvation, neglect, keeping her locked up under the stairs, probably physical abuse as well." I grit my teeth, clamping down on the anger flaring up inside of me. "I hate that I can't save her from this. The best I can do is help her survive it. Let me out here, please."
"What are you going to do?" Mom says as she's pulling over to the side of the road, a plausibly deniable distance from the Dursley house itself.
"I'll peek through their windows while under a Someone Else's Problem field and compel them to throw Holly out of the house for the day. I'll befriend her and start telling her about her heritage. I've also got this pouch full of non-perishables that hides from anyone but its owner."
I slip out of the car and immediately slip back into the comfortable viel provided by the notice-me-not, making my way up to the window of the house in question. Inside, I can see a small, redheaded girl standing atop a stool, working away at something on the stove, surrounded by a house that isn't nearly as neat and orderly on the inside as it is on the outside. The furniture is old and worn, the walls noticeably discolored with one stain or another in a few places. It's ratty, really, just like its owners.
Where's one of the bastards, though? They're the ones I need to get to. Ugh, I guess I'll just have to wait for one of them to show up.
Thankfully, it's only a few minutes before Petunia wanders her way in and says something no doubt insipid to Holly, then wanders over to the window to stare balefully at one of the other houses on the street. I take advantage of the moment to make eye contact and send her a compulsion to kick Holly out of the house for the day once she's done cooking.
Once that's done, I leave the window and take to waiting outside the door. I might end up doing something unwise if I have to actually watch the child abuse for an extended period of time, so best to wait where I can't see it happening.
Finally, the door opens and Holly is roughly herded outside, giving me an opportunity to really get a good look at her. She's painfully small and thin, her short red hair messy and rough-looking from lack of care and her face gaunt as she surveys her surroundings with a defeated look on her face.
I could drop the charm and talk to her here, but it'd be better to do it somewhere out of the Dursley's sight. So instead I send her a compulsion to head to a nearby park, then make my way back into the car before dropping the charm.
"I'm meeting her at the park we passed on the way here."
"Right." Mom nods grimly as we pull out. "Best to give her a support network without letting the abusers know she has one in a situation like this."
It's a short, quiet drive before we finally arrive and I take a seat on the nearest bench, filled with nervous tension as I wait for Holly to get here, though I'm still under a notice-me-not. I want to be able to approach her, after all, and that's easier if she doesn't see me coming.
I might also be a bit socially awkward, with no idea how to really approach this as I'm pulling everything out of my ass. I never experienced anything nearly as bad as she's dealing with, after all.
It's reassuring when she finally comes strolling aimlessly into the park, her back to me as she stares at her surroundings and kicks idly at the ground. With a heaved sigh, she lets herself fall to the grass.
I get up, dropping the charm as I approach and take a seat next to her, deliberately making some noise in the process so as not to scare her. I know full well that people popping up out of nowhere is unpleasant, after all.
She glances over at me briefly, shifts in place, and looks away, curling ever so slightly into herself.
I force a small smile, doing my best to sound friendly. It's hard to really put my heart in it, given the circumstances. "Hi, my name's Hermione, what's yours?"
"Holly." Her shoulders slump a little, so I think it at least worked a little.
I make a show of glancing at her scar. "It wouldn't happen to be Holly Potter, would it?"
She looks back at me, eyes wide with curiosity. "...Yes, how did you know that?"
"I knew of your parents."
There's a little flicker of interest there, though not a lot. "Can you tell me about them?"
"Certainly. Your parents, James and Lily Potter, are war heroes who saved Britain." Saved it from becoming even worse than it already is, that is to say. Which, really, anyone competent should have been able to do. Oh, right, there is no one competent.
"They were? My Aunt Petunia said that they were drunks that died in a car crash."
"Your Aunt might not know. They didn't die in an ordinary war." I glance around us to check for lookers-on, then telepathically snag a handful of wood chips from the nearby playground and start floating them around in front of her, slipping in a slight awe compulsion.
"I'm a witch, Holly. And so are you. Your parents were magical too, and they died in a magical war. Your aunt is non-magical, and the magical and non-magical worlds are kept separate. She might not know the truth, or she might be lying to you."
She stares, enraptured and appropriately awed by my little display. "...You said they were heroes?"
"They were. A decade ago, there was a powerful Dark Lord running a terror campaign that left people afraid to say his name. His entire movement was outright genocidal towards anyone from the mundane world who had ended up getting magic, like me." I pause uncertainly. "You do know what genocide is, right?" Do children get taught these things? I don't think they tend to at this age, especially in Britain.
Holly shakes her head.
"Right. Genocide is a systematic attempt to kill off a group of people defined by something beyond their control, like race. The easiest example is race, but there's also other stuff." I shake my head, getting back on track. "But anyway, he attacked the Potter family because they were some of the people fighting against him, but your parents managed to protect you with very old, powerful magic by sacrificing their lives, and his body was destroyed when he tried to kill you, though it left behind that scar on your forehead. The magical world then ends up thinking that you're the one who beat him, and has taken to calling you the Girl-Who-Lived."
"But, I'm just Holly, I'm nothing special..."
"That's not true. You are special. I can tell that destiny clings tightly to you, you're definitely the subject of at least one prophecy. With your permission, I'd like to come by often to help prepare you for that destiny...and to be your friend, if you'd let me."
"Yes, please!" For a brief, sweet moment Holly perks up and smiles, delighted and excited, only to deflate a second later. "...But my Aunt and Uncle aren't going to let you see me."
"Don't you worry about that. I can make sure they give you some fresh air and the opportunity to meet with me." I smile, reaching up to reassuringly pat her head. "Just let me handle everything. I'll take care of you, I promise."
"Really?" She looks up at me with wide eyes, hopeful and vulnerable in equal measure.
"Yes." I know that I'm being manipulative. I don't care. I'm here to protect this girl because I'm here and because I can, and I'm not abandoning that. "So, do you want to spend the rest of the day at my house? My parents will cook for us, and I can tell you more about the Magical World."
I guide her back to where Mom parked the car. "Mom, this is Holly Potter, prophecy child. I'm going to be her shadow for the next...oh, twelve years or so."
Mom smiles warmly at Holly, who is currently doing her best to cut off circulation in my arm. "It's nice to meet you, dear."
It's all a lot for Holly to take in, but she manages to keep up with a giddy warmth in her chest as Hermione sweeps her away, brings her to her home, and feeds her proper food, as much as she wants. It's all a strange, magical experience, and one that she can't bring herself to question, for fear that it might go away.
"So now that we're fed and watered, I did promise to tell you more about the Wizarding World…and its major malfunctions." Hermione says, and Holly can't help but nod her head. Hermione knows so much, and is so pretty, it's a little awe inspiringly, honestly."So, the Wizarding World is, in many ways, similar to the 'muggle' one-that's what wizards call normal people, muggles, and I can't imagine the etymology behind it is particularly pleasant. An office worker is an office worker no matter what side of the divide they live on, and a lot of what is commonplace in the Wizarding World could be accomplished with technology given enough time, magic just makes things easier and more flashy. The biggest differences are cultural; the Wizarding World comes off as a foreign country with how different the people are and how differently the government manages the people. Wixen are, as a rule, less free then their muggle equivalents."
"The Ministry makes a habit of controlling what Wixen are allowed to do, as well as what they are allowed to know. Magical Britain has but a single mainstream newspaper, and it's very much a mouthpiece for the Ministry. The Daily Prophet prints what the Ministry wants them to print. And with only a single source of information to rely on, the majority of Wixen thus believe what the Ministry wants them to believe. Really, I'd almost suggest that the reason why wizards ignore so much in the way of technology is because modernization would risk giving the populace at large better access to knowledge, but that assumes competence and awareness of things beyond their own personal little fiefdoms so it's not particularly likely."
"The reason for this level of control comes down, ultimately, to violence. In the muggle world, large scale violence is the sole privilege of governments. Waging war requires significant equipment, manpower, and training. Funding that level of effort is out of the reach for the average citizen, so no single citizen, no matter how exceptional, can wage war."
"This is not the case in the Wizarding World. The only bit of equipment a magical needs to be their most dangerous is their wand, which everyone carries with them 24/7. Furthermore, the amount of power a single magical can bring to bear with the right training is immense. Exceptional individuals can and have waged one man wars against the governments of their day, and in some cases even won. Voldemort is just one in a long line of so-called 'Dark Lords', though he is a right and proper evil bastard who actually deserves the title."
"With neither equipment nor manpower being important limitations on a Wixen's power, the British Ministry of Magic and other important magical leaders have been waging a long-term war on the only mechanism of violence they can control; a magical's training. The most successful of these initiatives has been the demonizing of nearly all forms of combative magic by labeling them as 'The Dark Arts'. This has ultimately created a long-term cultural divide in Wizarding Britain, with those who follow the law and only look into non-combative magic being given the positive label of 'Light Wizard', and those who practice dangerous or potentially dangerous magic being given the negative label of 'Dark Wizards'. These days, pretty much anyone who knows how to fight is treated with suspicion and hostility by the majority of Wizarding Britain, unless they're a bootlicker or a noble, which neatly explains how Voldemort and about a hundred followers managed to nearly conquer the nation."
"Um..." Holly raises a hand, a little overwhelmed by the amount of information, even if Hermione is explaining it well. "Bootlickers? And they have nobility?"
Hermione gives her a curious expression, her head tilted for a moment before she snaps to attention. "Right. That's sort of a tangent, but also not. Bootlickers are cops, particularly racist and xenophobic ones, as well as those who support the oppression of people in general. Like the Dursleys. And yes, magical Britain is still ruled over by their ancient nobility, which is a serious problem. Because the magical world isolated itself from the mundane back in the sixteenth century, the ruling class of magical Britain is pretty much still locked into the mindset of the sixteenth century Britain. That is to say, they are near universally dismissive of foreigners, which includes the muggle raised like you and me, systematically racist, and the amount of corruption at all levels of the Ministry makes certain third world countries look like fair and balanced places to live."
"A good example of the corruption is your Godfather, actually, Sirius Black, who was sentenced to the magical world's worst prison without a trial, and has been there for years. There's enough holes in the official story that he's probably innocent, and he likely only ended up in prison because his family is old nobility that really fell from grace during his time. His family's enemies most likely saw the opportunity to eliminate the last of the Blacks and took it."
Holly's heart sinks. All this time, she's had a godfather that she should have been living with instead? "How can they get away with that?"
"Well, remember how I said the Ministry controls the only newspaper? That is pretty much the reason why they can get away with it. The Ministry maintains a thin veneer of democracy on behalf of the Muggleborn and Half-Bloods. The thing about democracy though is that so long as you can maintain 51% of the vote, you can do whatever you'd like, and due to the way people think in general, being the most popular candidate means that about a third of people are going to like you no matter what, a third are going to hate you, and the remaining third is going to be undecided. And that undecided third is going to make up their mind based on what you do, which they'll learn about in the newspaper. Which the Ministry controls. The result is that they can legalize a significant amount of corruption, and by keeping the populace cripplingly misinformed and weak they have no reason to fear for their job security while doing so."
"Ultimately, if you want to be free in Wizarding Britain, then you need to become powerful, and you need to do so in secret. Fortunately, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which will be the boarding school we'll both be invited to in 1991 to start our magical education, has more secrets than any other building in Britain."
"What's a boarding school?" Holly asks, latching on to the bit that she thinks she can follow along with most easily.
"It's a school that you live at. So, it'll be good once that starts up." Hermione smiles but it looks almost strained. "It's quite possibly the oldest magical school in the world, with the largest magical library in all of Europe. The entire building is steeped in magic and history like nothing else on the planet. Words honestly can't do it justice, it's something you have to experience for yourself. And when you do, it'll feel like coming home for the first time. The one downside is that the teachers range from actually being good to people who should have been exorcized decades ago. And no, that's not an exaggeration. Binns, the history teacher, is a ghost and he's awful. You'd think a ghost would be good at history, but nope." Hermione rolls her eyes. "Of course, depending on who you ask the worst or best part of Hogwarts is the Headmaster."
"What's wrong with the Headmaster?" Hermione's dad asks.
Hermione scrunches up her nose cutely before responding. "Dad, what would you say if I told you that the principal of the local high school, the Speaker of the House of Commons, and the Secretary-General of the UN were all the same man?"
"I'd say that's insane." He replies promptly.
"Yes, well, that's the reality of the Wizarding World. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is not only the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he's also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. I don't remember where I heard it, but someone once said that the population of the Wizarding World is so small that the whole place effectively runs on small town politics, and there's nowhere that's more clear then with the Headmaster."
"The Headmaster's claim to fame is the defeat of a Dark Lord named Grindelwald during World War 2. Grindelwald was much more successful in his conquest then Voldemort ever was, as he managed to conquer most of Europe, before Dumbledore defeated him in a one on one duel. And that's all he did. He wasn't a war general who fought battles, he fought a battle, singular, and the Wizarding World promptly canonized him for it. He became the Light Wizard, and it's honestly gone to his head. The man is..honestly rather incompetent, he completely fumbled his attempt at being a war leader when Voldemort started his reign of terror, but if anything Dumbledore's reputation only soared higher due to rising anti-Dark sentiment." Hermione drinks some water before continuing. "He's big on second chances, even when it's very much undeserved. He doesn't seem to understand that before there can be redemption there must be remorse and punishment. So even though Hogwarts is the seat of power of Europe's most prominant Light Wizard, I fully expect to encounter significant discrimination and hate from the student populace on account of being Muggleborn. The better world that Holly's parents died for has failed to materalize, and it's largely because of the incompetence of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" Hermione finishes, her face a bit red.
"So I'm guessing you don't like him?" Her father asks drly.
"If someone removed him from his high horse decades ago then Voldemort likely would have never happened. Instead everyone, including most of the staff, is slavishly devoted to him even though the man does basically nothing. He just stays out of everything, then looks down on everyone due to having 'cleaner' hands. Combine that with a habit for manipulation and…well, frankly I despise the man. I am not looking forward to having him as my Headmaster. Reactionary moral busybody, and not even in the political sense, but rather in that he refuses to be proactive on any level." Hermione finishes. Holly makes a note to be wary of this Dumbledore character, if Hermione doesn't like him, he's probably bad news.
"Anyways, because Wizarding Britain isn't clannish enough, Hogwarts separates its students into four Houses based on character traits, and the House divides and stereotypes are embedded into the cultural consciousness almost as badly as the Light/Dark divide." Hermione rolls her eyes again. "The four Houses are as follows. There's Gryffindor, which values courage and chivalry. This is the House of Light Wizards and Dumbledore sycophants…though the two terms are practically synonyms. It's also the house of reckless harebrained idiots. Ravenclaw is full of nerds, which you'd think would be fine, but somehow isn't. They have a reputation for being antisocial know-it-alls. Hufflepuff is full of people who value family and loyalty, which is actually something that I can respect. Wizarding Britain tends to think of Hufflepuff as the house of the useless, however."
"Finally, there's Slytherin House. Supposedly Gryffindor's opposite, the house of the snakes values cunning and ambition. Truthfully, I expect both of us to end up in this house. I'm a naturally ambitious person, and circumstances like yours Holly tend to create a certain level of cunning necessary for survival that the school will pick up on. Unfortunately this is also the house of 'Dark Wizards', and a lot of the children of Death Eaters will likely be there with us. Furthermore, ending up in Slytherin will subvert a lot of expectations people have for you, as they're likely expecting you to be the perfect Light princess. The public very well might turn on you just because of your Hogwarts House."
"To make a very long conversation short, Wizarding Britain is horrifically backwards and likely to be fairly hostile to us, despite your celebrity status, and our school won't be any better. It'll be us against the world, but I promise I'll be by your side, every step of the way." Hermione smiles gently, and Holly really believes that she can trust her. "Well, so long as you want me there?"
"Yes!" Holly nods rapidly, eager to express how excited she is.
"Good, good." Hermione nods, her hand reaching out and gently patting Holly's head. "I'm sure we'll make an excellent team."
Chapter 3: Childhood IIIChapter TextWhen it comes to studying, I prefer to cover theory before application, so I've decided to start both my and Holly's magical education with a bit of reading from Magical Theory. It is rather dense to read the textbook without having a class to go along with it, and I don't think Holly quite follows along with everything until I provide some context and other explanations, but it's damn interesting to actually know.
Wixen have determined that outside of the universe sits primordial chaos which has infinite matter and energy, but also no rules that govern how matter and energy behave. The universe then is an endlessly self-replicating pattern that governs how matter and energy behave, one that is continuously expanding.
They've also determined that it is a pattern that is imperfect, with natural 'breaks' that allow primordial chaos to leak through and weaken the rules of reality. Within these altered spaces, some species of plants and animals, including humans, have developed the capability to absorb this primordial chaos and use it. Magic, then, is the art of using primordial chaos to reject the laws of reality and replace them with laws of your own choosing.
The rules of magic are therefore effectively rules of energy expenditure, how much it costs to weaken or eliminate certain laws of reality, as well as how long it takes for reality to reassert itself and undo your alterations. Reality's self-replicating nature is why nearly all magic is temporary, and whether or not allmagic is indeed temporary is a matter of scholastic debate.
Really, it's a bit of a shame that Holly doesn't have the background knowledge to get why it is that understanding why the universe is perpetually expanding is such a big deal. Einstein would be delighted to hear this, honestly.
Actually, I remember that there was a period of time where the prevailing theory was that the universe was static in size, which was disproven because of the redshifting of cosmic radiation. Has that happened yet?
Ah well, it's not like I have the telescope or the astronomy background to prove it for shits and giggles anyway, and wixen seem to already be aware of the universe's expanding nature. When was this book first written? 1802? I… might need to reconsider a few of my comments about Wixen being backwards.
Though, on the other hand, I doubt that they've bothered to use their literally magical analytical capabilities to do all that much study of how the world works without magic being involved, else some muggleborn would have surely taken that knowledge and brought it over to the mundane side of things for personal gain at one point or another.
From then on, my life settles into a much better routine than I was in before. Every weekend, my parents drive me over to Surrey and I compel the Dursley's into letting Holly go. We spend a day on the history and politics of the Wizarding World, and the next day on theory, focusing mostly on runes and arithmancy for now in our self-study programs, as it proves impossible to practice the wanded classes without a wand, even after I've taught Holly how to get in touch with her own magic. Eventually, Holly has a spat of accidental apparation due to her cousin and learns how to get to the Granger residence on her own, so I only have to drop by once a month to drop a longer term compulsion into the Dursley's heads to keep Holly out of the house on weekends. My weekdays on the other hand were typically spent focusing on a discipline I knew would not be taught very well at Hogwarts: Potions. This is another subject in which I'm going to master the theoretical first, because my backyard shed was very much not Hogwarts, with its fully stocked medical wing that could reverse potion accidents with no fuss.
In fact, I'm more or less completely cut off from the Wizarding World's medical services; if I was to be incapacitated there was no one magical around who could drop me off at Saint Mungos, my parents would be waylaid by the Muggle-Repelling charms. Which meant that this field of study is going to be rather risky, all things considered.
So I plan on reading the reaction tables for various ingredients and the lab safety standards, then re-reading them, until I have them memorized and burnt into my brain. I immediately run into a problem, but for once it was a good kind of problem to have: I don't need to reread the reaction table to memorize it. I read it once, then thoroughly pass any kind of pop quiz I give myself (with my parent's help) ...even a week later. The material seems lodged in my brain for good. Operating on a hunch, I have my mother make up a pop quiz on that magical theory book and administer it. Even two weeks later, on a subject I dismissed as 'interesting but not useful', I passed it flawlessly.
Further testing confirmed what I suspected: the brain of seven year old Hermione Granger was smarter and more capable than the fully matured brain of my old body. Not only can I memorize information with much greater ease than in my past life, I could also make connections between seemingly unrelated information with an ease that honestly had me gaping a little. Hermione was a natural born genius, hindered only by how small-minded she was in canon. Now that I was in her body, I'm also a genius, and I have no such limitations.
Which of course, makes my utter failure to replicate even the simplest spells out of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 even more frustrating. And unfortunately, my accidental magic episodes from that frustration do not give me the results I'm seeking by spontaneously manifesting the spells I was focusing on, but instead have a tendency to be destructive to the environment. I can now wandlessly cause glass to shatter, but I honestly can't see a use for that besides intimidation. The only progress I have on actual casting magic is in my telekinetic training. I can now manipulate up to 20 objects as a group, and handle eight objects completely individually. My weight limit has also cracked the 100 pound barrier, and it wasn't just up to my expanding magical potential, somehow it felt like the spell was becoming more efficient the more I practiced it, which made no sense and was not mentioned in any of my introductory magic theory books. However, I'm not exactly going to look a gift horse in the mouth. For now, though, my greatest improvement lies in potions.
My obsessive study of reaction tables and theory before doing any practical work is most definitely paying off in this particular field. I'm not a savant, but my obscene intelligence along with my diligent study habits (helped along by my enthusiasm for all things magic) mean that I'm not just learning how to brew these potions, I'm tearing the recipes apart to figure out why the ingredients created a potion with the effects they had. My reading suggests this is post-OWLs level, but I didn't care. I'm not moving onto second year potions until I understand the first year. The fact I'm able to squeeze this into the space of a standard Hogwarts year is honestly just a testament to the scary amount of brain power I have access to in this life. And once I did understand first year potions...brewing and understanding the higher years is honestly a breeze, they were simply more complex applications of the patterns I already recognised. Snape really is an awful teacher, considering his classes don't hint at this hidden world within the discipline at all. I'll save the experimental potion brewing for Hogwarts, but if by the time I get there I can't brew everything up to NEWT level while correcting for simple errors I should honestly just roll over and let Voldemort win.
History, political, and theory lessons with Holly are going equally well. I've ended up having to be a bit heavy handed with the awe compulsions in order to get her to focus during the first two, but despite the dry nature of magical theory Holly seemed just as interested in actual magic as I was. From what I can tell, I'm bringing Holly around to my point of view regarding the Wizarding World with ease, most likely due to being both the first and only opinion on it that she's heard. It doesn't hurt that she's developing a serious case of hero worship for me now, especially once I started supplying her with nutrition potions (ones I brewed myself in order to test my skills, of course). It's honestly just an ordinary day in July when I convinced Holly to abandon her morals. Another 'history' day, as opposed to a theory day, probably the last one. I'm running out of topics to talk about, and decided to go for broke on this whole 'corrupting the hero' bit. It's more important to make sure she's on my side now than it is to make sure she can properly catch on to nuance. More practically achievable as well, considering her age. Then I could likely bring her into the darker parts of my personality without her batting an eye. Truth be told, I'm looking forward to seeing how Voldemort deals with a nemesis who is just as ruthless as he is.
"Today we're going to talk about ethics, Holly."
"Don't we do that every day?" Oh, my apprentice was developing an appropriate level of sass. I'm so proud.
"Har dee har. You're a regular comedian. The ethics of Wizarding Britain is quite similar to Non-Magical Britain, though it has a magical bent that ties back to the Light and Dark propaganda we discussed earlier. The populace believes that killing people is the actions of a Dark Wizard. That gaining power, especially in combative magic, makes you inherently Dark, due to the Ministry classifying that branch of magic as the Dark Arts. That it's only appropriate for a Light Wizard to fight in the defense of others. Can you tell me why these beliefs lead to the Light losing the war?" I watch Holly as she thinks.
"Because it lead to the Dark Wizards being the wizards willing to improve their combat ability, giving them an edge in fighting?" Holly ventures.
"No points for partial answers."
"...And because it meant that the Light was always reactive, as opposed to being proactive?" She finishes.
"Yes, very well done Holly. The Light were losing because they failed to grasp a certain truth. Just as important as the willingness to do the right thing is the knowledge of when to do the wrong thing." I state.
"What do you mean?" Holly asks.
"I've known some real honorable fools in my life, of which the Headmaster definitely counts as one. People who put their desire to be a good person above all else, including the consequences of their actions." I gather my thoughts for a moment before speaking again. "Doing the right thing doesn't absolve you of the responsibility for what happens next. Rather than think of good and evil, I prefer to think of actions and consequences. Doing the honorable thing might make it easier to sleep at night, but it also makes it easier for dishonorable people to stab you and the people depending on you in the back. Sometimes being responsible means having a guilty conscience for the sake of other people's lives. That's the real mantle of responsibility that's been thrust upon you; you can't just make decisions for yourself when your actions dictate the fate of everyone in Britain."
Holly turns mulish. "That's not fair!"
"Unfortunately honor and fairness are human concepts, Holly. The universe is indifferent. If you refuse to fight fire with fire, to murder a murderer, then the consequences of that murderer walking free fall not just on you, but on everyone relying on you. The bulk of the responsibility falls on the murderer for murdering people, but it starts with you. You are the headwaters of that river. You are ultimately the source." I smile grimly at her. "It's not all doom and gloom, though. If you get used to thinking in actions and consequences, rather than right or wrong, the truth is that you'll end up doing less damage to society then those who cling blindly to a moral code and call themselves a good person regardless of the consequences of their actions. Superiority through careful consideration of action, instead of blind faith in right and wrong."
"Because what a lot of people don't understand is that action must be taken against people like the Death Eaters. The sooner the better, because an intolerant group is one that fundamentally will now allow the rest of the world to live in peace. Societies need to make it clear that intolerance won't be tolerated and apply social pressure not to express them, because otherwise those views will inevitably spread like cancer. And the inevitable result of that spread is violence, be it social, physical, political, or economic. Once it becomes entrenched, you're too late, and the only thing left to do is to get rid of them by force."
"I understand." Holly nods, a serious frown on her face that ends up just coming across as cute.
"Do you? The Light expects its perfect princess, reactionary and unassuming..and a sitting duck for Voldemort. Are you going to be one?"
"No!"
"And if victory means mastering the Dark Arts?"
"Then I'll be the greatest Dark Witch the world has ever seen!"
"That's my girl." I smile, patting her head. Her hair is so soft and silky now that she actually has opportunities to take care of it. In fact, we should brush each other's hair sometime.
"I've more or less got you caught up on the current situation in Wizarding Britain. Since you're ready for the next stage of your training, practical lessons. Next weekend, I'll have a bag of tennis balls."
"Tennis balls?"
My smile might be a little bit sadistic, but I don't think anyone can honestly say that the idea of throwing things at someone for their own good doesn't sound like a fun time. "If you can dodge a ball, you can dodge a spell."
From then on, history and politics are replaced with 'practical' lessons, at least as practical as we can get without wands. My theory lessons start to include 'homework', as I lent her books wrapped in notice-me-nots and kept in her mokeskin pouch to read. Then during our practical lessons, I get out a bag of tennis balls and water balloons. Harry in canon always seemed to be a practical, hands-on learner that excelled under pressure. In order to replicate those conditions, I use my telekinesis to toss tennis balls at her while quizzing her on what she's learned. If she gets a question wrong, I have a water balloon home in on her and drench her. This way I'm teaching her dodging, footwork, and how to think calmly under pressure.
Her performance in the beginning was not great, as expected. However, she quickly improved in leaps and bounds that exceeded my expectations. It became exceedingly clear that where I had a talent for learning, she had a talent for combat and physical activity that was as just as strong. In time, she's even begun appariting in combat, which I haven't seen used anywhere as a combat relevant technique, possibly because how common it is to fight under anti-apparition wards. I make sure she keeps it as a matter of last resort as a result, but really am quite impressed. With her agility and naturally smaller frame, I doubt anyone would be able to touch her by the time we got to Hogwarts.
Honestly, the only thing that could go better for Holly and me is if I could move those Blood Wards so that she can join me in potion lessons, a thought I voice to my parents idly one day shortly after my 9th birthday.
"Well, why don't you learn?" My mom says.
"What? Blood magic?"
"Yes."
Well, now I feel like an idiot. Knockturn Alley is a thing that exists, Aging Potion is well within my skill set, and I still have a significant amount of money on hand, with easy access to more. "Good question. Very good question."
I promptly wander off to my potions lab. I have work to do!
The results of the aging potion really are impressive. I'm hot, and it distracts me for a while before I snag some of my mom's clothes and make for Knockturn. I don't have a wand, unfortunately, but instead I carry a bandolier of knives strapped to my waist, which I end up having to telekinetically brandish about to scare off a few of the locals before I reach Borgin and Burkes.
I don't waste time browsing the dark shelves, instead making right for the desk where either Borgin or Burke sits. I also slam down my coin purse dramatically, only to remember the featherweight charm at the last minute and settle for simply slamming my hands heavily enough to grab attention.
"I'm looking for books on blood and ritual magics." Might as well go for both, really. Even if I'll have access to better resources than are here at Hogwarts, I may as well get a grasp on the basics.
I'm a little disappointed that I didn't seek any of this out sooner, really. Ritual magics probably hold a number of means by which I can become more powerful, and I need all the power I can get.
"Druidic or Roman blood magic?" The clerk asks, giving me a moment's pause.
"What are the differences?"
"Druidic blood magic is heavy on ritual work, empowerment, and things involving the natural world. Roman focuses on empowering groups of people, siege-scale rituals, and temporarily empowering large numbers of people."
"Druidic, then."
He raises his wand in the air. "Accio Blood as a Conduit for Magic, Ritual Studies in Sacrifice, and The Price of Protection." After a short delay, each book flies into his hand and he sets it on the counter. "These should serve well for a beginner. And they're all illegal, of course, so do keep them private."
Well, if I don't know the difference between the two I suppose it is rather obvious that I don't have much knowledge in the field. Still, how helpful of him. "How much?"
"Seventy galleons."
I grimace. Even if I have access to quite a bit of money, it's as much as I've spent on any other magical supplies so far. "I'll take them."
I remove the money from my purse and drop the books into my pouch. I then remove ten more galleons from my purse and show it to him. "Do you know of any discrete renderers capable of handling Five X beasts?"
The shopkeep (I should really catch his name) raised one eyebrow before heading over to a rolodex, flicking through it and pulling out a few cards that he then duplicates with a muttered spell. I exchange the galleons for the cards and give him a brilliant smile. "Have a nice day."
I promptly make my way back home before my Aging Potion can give out in the street. That was shockingly painless.
Unfortunately, all of the books I bought agree on one thing; in order to move the wards on the Dursley residence Holly would need another living relative that shares her blood. However, the books are far from useless. Until now, my study of runes was purely theoretical. While I was totally capable of forcing magic into the runes to activate them, they would promptly use up the magic I fed them and become inert again, preventing any kind of practical use. Modern enchantment and wardcraft involved the usage of spells in order to have the runes draw from available magic in the environment. Additionally, the Graphic Arts were mostly used in these modern times as anchors and control sequences for complicated spells, controlling how they functioned and bridging multiple spells to work together with one purpose. Runes that create tangible effects are mostly restricted to ritual, these days. The variety of effects from sustained charms and jinxes were just too versatile to ignore. All of this means that modern enchanting is impossible without a wand, and therefore impossible for me to practice, even though the Graphic Arts is technically a form of witchcraft, not wizardry.
Fortunately, blood magic offers a partial solution. The principle usage of blood in magic is to create a link between a wixen's magic and a magical effect. By slathering a little bit of willingly given blood on some runes it's possible to have them power themselves in perpetuity, so long as they remain in the possession of myself or my descendants. Additionally, though this won't be useful until I get my wand, sacrificing a bit of blood to a spell with a continuous effect would allow me to continue to feed it magic without having to focus on it, if done correctly. I make a mental note to revisit this particular avenue of study once I've learned shield charms. For now I'm giddy at being able to carve runes for silence and balance into the heels of my boots, and with just a little bit of bloodletting my footsteps are now significantly more quiet and steady. A whole world of primitive enchanting and warding is now open to me, and I'm going to abuse the hell out of it.
I'll probably end up looking a bit concerning, given all the messy scars this is liable to end up giving me in the long term, but hey, scars are hot. Here's hoping that Snape either doesn't care enough to follow up on the signs of self-harm or is chill enough to just ignore the fact that I'm regularly using illegal magic, if he happens to notice them.
First things first, I'm going to ward my house.
The effects will be twofold. First, a ward that will alert me when someone magical sets foot on the property. This is simple enough, one of the most basic wards possible, really. The second is an aversion ward to direct anyone with hostile intent elsewhere. It's about as effective as a notice-me-not, in that anyone specifically looking to break into my home will still be able to, but at least this way mom and dad don't have to worry about burglars.
Not that that was much a risk to begin with given the neighborhood we live in, but it can't hurt, certainly.
At some point I'd like to make the wards capable of identifying anyone who enters them, but that requires a fair bit of more complicated arithmancy and rune work than I'm capable of just yet.
The wardstone is just a normal rock, though one big enough for me to inscribe the runes I need on it. I set it up in my room, on the top shelf of the closet, and the ritual goes off cleanly. It's an interesting feeling as the magic envelops the house, a gentle sort of tension in the air.
Another step closer to actually being able to protect myself and Holly.
I've been thinking about further weaponizing telekinesis. Obviously, telekinesis in itself is an effective weapon, but Holly's magic fought me the time I tried to grab her directly, though I was able to snag her clothes.
However, using telekinesis on projectiles (such as knives) seems rather effective. The only problem is that I've hit a wall in my training, I can only mentally separate my magic out to so many knives before I start to lose track, sooner if I make each knife move individually instead of as one group. But I had a thought: if imbuing a set of runes with my blood allows them to be connected to my magic without any effort on my part, why can't I connect my knives to my magic in the same way? It should allow me to control significantly more knives than before.
Scrawling the rune for connection onto the hilt of one of my knives and then adding some blood serves as my quick proof of concept... and seems to work well. My magic is just connected to the knife now. Moving it around with telekinesis requires very little focus, it's almost like moving an additional limb. Furthermore, with my sensitivity to magic I'm always aware of it, even if I close my eyes. A sort of magical proprioception. With this in place I could easily split my attention between multiple knives and still duel, which would increase my combat power significantly. Unless I run into some sort of hard counter, this is likely to become the backbone of my fighting style, as there's no reason I can't extend it to other things as well. Knives work well for offense, but I can easily grab sets of plates and use them to catch curses that I can't block conventionally, like the Killing Curse.
Besides, this is the magical world. A knife doesn't have to be just a knife. By the time Voldemort rises again, my knives are going to be cursed and poisoned to the nines. Even if I don't land a cut or a stab in a lethal spot, magic can easily finish the job.
...And if I put a little reservoir into my knives to catch the blood of my enemies, I can use blood magic to curse the shit out of any that run away. Which would make the attrition rate for fighting me absolutely horrid, because anyone who gets cut and doesn't get seen by Voldemort himself, or maybe Snape, will just die. And that's a persistent threat coming from a spell I can manage wandlessly, in addition to whatever death I learn to spew from my wand. Ignore my knives and die to them. Ignore me and die to me. To say nothing of what it will be like to have Holly backing me up. Teamwork is always inherently more deadly than any solo act, no matter how dangerous.
Hm, though this does give me some ideas on how to possibly improve my teamwork with Holly. As well as give her an even deeper support network to draw on while she's at the Dursleys. I need to do some more research.
Then one day Holly comes to see me with a black eye.
I don't ask any questions, I just pull her into a tight hug to hide the fury that I don't think I can entirely hide. I know I don't handle people being angry in my presence well, whether that anger is directed at me or not, and I'm betting that Holly has some of the same troubles. The last thing I want to do is scare her.
Holly goes slack in my arms, trembling faintly as I lead her to the couch and let her settle into my lap there. Her hands curl into fists, grabbing onto my shirt as I comb my hand through her hair.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could always be there to protect you." I hate this so much, this powerlessness.
"So'kay." Holly mumbles, her head shifting about as she finds a comfortable place to rest it in the crook of my shoulder. "Feel safe now."
I melt a little, giving Holly an appreciative squeeze as I settle us down. It's hard to be angry if she's going to say something like that. Safety is precious, and I don't want to ruin the moment. Instead, I gently tug her head far enough back to make eye contact and begin using legilimency. My control has certainly improved these years, and these days it's a painless, featherlight touch. Rather than look into Holly's memories and thoughts, I start pushing some of my own, instead, trying to make her feel the care I have for her. Holly clings to it like a lifeline, and she relaxes further into my grasp.
We linger like this, in the moment for as long as we can manage. Somehow, she ends up sitting in my lap more traditionally as we take a moment to just relax.
"There's an idea that I've been working on lately. I think that if I have your willingly given blood, I can make something that will allow us to stay mentally connected all the time without eye contact. You'll never have to be alone again."
Holly whips her head around to look at me with awe that I didn't even induce this time. "Yes! Please!" Her hand squeezes mine hard enough to hurt a little bit.
I sigh, though a smile creeps its way onto my face unbidden. "You really shouldn't just give away blood like that, you know. Wixen can do all sorts of nasty things with it."
"Well it's fine if it's you." Holly rolls her eyes.
Guh, now I'm blushing. I shouldn't be surprised that she'd say something like that, certainly, but I'm not used to this sort of thing at all. Being close to someone, that is. "Alright, alright. I think we can do that soon, then. Though, before we do there's something I should tell you."
"Sure." Holly nods attentively, shifting around until she can look at me comfortably and fixing me with a curious stare.
"I'm reincarnated, and I remember my past life. It's why I know so much about the magical world, actually."
"Oh, that actually makes a lot of sense." Holly says, nodding to herself. "So that's why you're all adult and stuff?"
"...Yes Holly." It's not as if I'm actually any good at pretending to be a child, but it still stings a little that Holly noticed so easily.
"Cool!"
Cool? I mean, I guess it is kind of cool. "Is that all you have to say? I have been manipulating you, you know."
"Yeah, by making me better, stronger, and happier. Go ahead and manipulate away. Like I said before, it's okay if it's you."
I really am terrible, aren't I?
Still, I just squeeze Holly tighter, speechless and happy to have not lost her. She is mine. I didn't want to let her go. I shove the monster back in its cage for now. Maybe when Holly is older… but only if it's something she wants.
Nevertheless, I refuse to let go of her for the rest of the day. For once, we don't even get any work done.
And from the moment she leaves I get to work with a vengeance. I will have it ready within the week.
"I should be working on a project right now." I grumble as I reluctantly shuffle out of the car under my parent's watchful eyes.
"You say that every time we do this." Dad comments, enjoying himself on what I swear is pure sadism at how little I enjoy being around people or outside.
"Yeah, but I mean it more than usual this time."
Every once in a while, my parents will make me go out on some trip or another with them. Admittedly, it is something that's done for my own good, considering my reclusive tendencies, and I do sometimes end up enjoying myself, but that doesn't stop me from complaining.
This time they've decided to take me shopping at a flea market of all places.
It's... interesting, at least. Although most of the things here are either just little baubles, raw materials, or scrap. There are some things that actually interest me. A pair of chokers with a Triquetra attached to them happen to catch my eye. The Celtic symbol of unity, eternal love, and eternal spiritual life. Well, I did need something to use as the base of my latest project, and these are simultaneously pretty, fitting, and non-descript enough not to draw too much attention.
On the downside, I end up spending the entire rest of the trip after that trying to break out of my own skin and entirely unable to tear my focus away from the collar and what I'm going to do with it. It feels like a torturous amount of time passes before my parents finally realize that I might be a little obsessed right now and relectuntantly agree to leave.
A few days later I think I have a working prototype. Making a telepathic binder is a little more complicated than just engraving the runewords for 'connect' and 'mind' and slathering a bit of blood onto it, but I think I have a sequence that will work. Holly and I can test them this weekend. I lie to myself by pretending that the only reason I designed it so that they couldn't be broken or removed was because of the Dursleys. I don't exactly feel like examining my ulterior motives right now.
Once the weekend starts, Holly and I slather the runes in our combined blood, and they start to light up, as expected. What was not expected is that the celtic knot begins lighting up too. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the Triquetra is certainly old enough to qualify and I have no idea how it will throw my sequence off-
With a feeling like breaking glass, the bond between Holly and I snaps into place. I'm aware of her in a way I wasn't just seconds prior, and I can feel her joy that it worked. I can also feel her picking up on my uncertainty and confusion at the fact that it worked.
Fortunately, both our chokers stop their light show, letting us put them on and wear them without issue. We're connected now, for better or worse. These aren't coming off unless we both work together to take them off. Holly begins trying to suffocate me with her strongest hug yet. I just hug her back and pretend like I can't feel her trembling.
Once my parents manage to peel us off of each other the benefits to our training are immediately obvious. Holly has an instinctive grasp of how to search my mind for supporting information as I teach her magical theory, increasing her rate of comprehension to a level approaching mine. Dodging practice becomes something of a joke, unfortunately, as she's able to instinctively read my intentions and begin dodging even before I throw anything. Good for our coordination as a team, bad for training, but Holly was already a little devil I couldn't hit even before this, so it's no big loss.
Ultimately it's the unexpected consequences that have me reaching for the occlumency book I bought so long ago. It sounds obvious in hindsight, but being mentally connected to a girl who is being traumatized by her relatives means that you're traumatized right beside her. Nevertheless, I continue to feed her a steady drip of love and reassurance to soothe her hurts and loneliness during the long days stuck in her cupboard, which ended up bringing its own problems. I could feel her getting more dependent on me and our link, forming her self-confidence around it. If I was a better person, I would do something about that, as healthy people need to be able to stand alone.
The monster in me prevents me from raising a word of protest. I wasn't a good person in my last life, and I'm not going to be one now. Holly is setting herself up to be mine, and I can't do anything but wait in anticipation. I might not be able to feel lust yet, but that ball of all consuming obsession/possession that I keep carefully hidden from her is only growing stronger.
Occlumency turns out to be entirely unlike what I expected. There are no Sherlock Holmes style mind palaces that would give me photographic memory. It just turns out to be magically aided meditation, which will let me order my thoughts and emotions, as well as gain a better awareness of any mental magic cast upon me. The art lets me hide the darker aspects of my personality from Holly, as well as keep her unaware of the negative consequences of our bonding on my end, but it doesn't offer any more assistance than that.
Holly isn't the only one becoming a bit co-dependent. Now that I can feel her hurt and loneliness like my own, I've been significantly more touchy-feely with her, doing my best to take care of her every time she comes over, which has attracted my parent's attention. I just can't help myself, I want to fill up all the cracks in her psyche the only ways I could figure out how. She certainly seems to appreciate it and draw a certain strength from it, though, which causes the law of unexpected consequences to rear its ugly head once again.
It's ended up forming the basis of a vicious cycle. Because Holly has me in her head to draw strength from, she begins fighting back. Because she's fighting back, the Dursleys try oppressing her harder, with Vernon and Dudley stepping up the violence. Which leads to Holly coming to me for treatment, which increases her emotional dependence, and allows her to draw more strength from my presence in her head.
Honestly, if I weren't keeping the Dursley's addled on a weekly basis now this would blow up in our faces. As it stands, it just drives Holly deeper into my camp and has put her firmly on the 'fuck everyone' train. As far as she's concerned, my parents and I are the only worthwhile people in the world. I carefully feed the cravings for power that rests within her breast too during our ongoing theory lessons. We'll make a proper Dark Lady out of her yet.
Of course, part of being a Dark Lady is ultimately image, and Voldemort has left her a very useful talent that I'm starting to teach her to take full advantage of: Parseltongue. Hilariously, she doesn't seem to actually like Eden much, apparently my snake teases her? I'm not really sure I believe it, after all, how could Eden ever do anything wrong? It's inconceivable.
However, I've been teaching her to embrace the talent and practice using it. It honestly isn't hard for her to pick up; Canon Harry was just hopeless. With a little bit of practice she learns to recognise when she's speaking it, and to activate the ability without needing a snake nearby. I'll have to think carefully about when we reveal this talent of hers; it can potentially buy us a tremendous amount of clout in Slytherin, but it'll do so at the cost of the opinions of others. We certainly can't let the Chamber of Secrets incident play out during second year if we do want to use it. I make a mental note to handle the Basilisk during our first year with some roosters...and also to explore it properly. It's the Chamber of Secrets, not the Chamber of a Giant Snake. I'm sure there's more to it than we see in canon.
Eventually, life settles back into a routine, the only addition being how joined at the hip Holly and I are, with a synchronicity that would put the Weasley twins to shame. We might not be able to share words directly, but we quickly worked out an ad-hoc language of concepts that was as good as telepathy, really.
My only major advancement in all this time is the identification ward I manage to create and tie into the house's alert ward, which took me six months of fiddling around to get. All too soon, it's the day of my eleventh birthday.