Summary: Alice Elizabeth Bennett was on a hiking holiday with her family when she unexpectedly fell and ended up in the Harry Potter universe. Follow as Alice has to learn to adapt to her new world, come to terms with the status of being a witch, and save herself from making changes to a story-line she inevitably changed the moment she landed in this universe. Welcome, Alice, to Wonderland.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from this story, a part from OC Alice Bennett.

Author Note: Welcome to Alice in Wonderland. I hope you enjoy the story, please R&R! I would love to read your reaction to this story.

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

7th August 1991

On the humid summer evening of 7th August 1991, Albus Dumbledore strolled into the Leaky Cauldron. Adorned in extravagant violet robes, embroiled with silver stars and crescent moons, pointed scarlet shoes that peered out from the bottom of his billowing robes, a gold buckled-belt that his silk-like silver hair and beard was tucked into, even he looked out of sorts as he stepped into the pub filled with wizards, witches, goblins and other magical creatures alike.

Like most nights in the Leaky Cauldron, the room was filled with people—some who glanced at the extravagantly dressed wizard an eye as he entered, others that barely noticed his presence.

Albus Dumbledore peered around the misty room through his half-moon glasses before making his way over to the bar, where a familiar wizard and owner of the Leaky Cauldron—Tom—stood, cleaning a glass and conversing with customers across the bar. The bald wizard looked at him, recognition immediately crossing his features, as he approached.

"Ah, Mr. Dumbledore, sir." The barman said, greeting Albus with a welcoming smile. "What a pleasure. Can't say I've seen you around here in a while. What can I do for you, good sir? A drop of Dragon Barrel Brandy, was it?"

Albus tapped his figures together and chuckled. "No, thank you Tomas—though, well done for remembering."

"I never forget a customer's drink, Mr. Dumbledore." Tom nodded proudly. "If I can't offer you a drink, then what can I do for ye?"

Albus stepped closer to the bar. "Actually, I was wondering whether you would be so kind as to show me to the whereabouts of a Miss Alice Bennett?"

A flicker of recognition flickered through Tom's eye once more. "The young lass said she would be expecting a visitor"—Tom frowned, and looked at Albus Dumbledore with slight suspicion—"Said she wrote to someone and was expecting them to turn up. Seemed very eager, indeed. Alas, I didn't expect it to be you, Mr. Dumbledore." Tom folded the dish-towel in his hand and placed it behind the bar. "Very well, I will take you to her."

"Thank you Tomas." Albus said, watching as Tom moved out from the bar and lead Albus towards the staircase on the far side of the room—to the living quarters of the pub. Dumbledore didn't mutter a word to Tom until they had left the lively room and were now walking through a wonky, creaking dark corridor, lit only by the small lanterns on the walls. "Tell me, Tomas, how long has Miss Bennett been staying here?"

"She arrived not a week ago, sir." Tom informed a thoughtful look on his face. "She seemed flustered, almost like she didn't even know where she was, in muggle clothing and muttering something about being 'lost' and 'falling'. The lass were awfully shaken, with just a handful of muggle money on her. I thought about getting the Ministry involved—thought maybe she was attacked, she had no wand on her, but she insisted that she hadn't. There was no chance she could have been a Muggle, she managed to find this place for starters, and she didn't look surprised by wands or anything. Thought maybe she is a Squib." Dumbledore could see the evident concern on Tom's face, as they pulled to a stop outside a door. "Well, here ye are. Just call if you need anything, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Very kind, Tomas, thank you."

Tom nodded, taking one last glance at the door, before turning and disappearing back down the corridor. Dumbledore watched as Tom disappeared until finally turning his attention to the old wooden door. He raised a hand and knocked twice. . . then waited.

There was a thumping sound, followed by a soft curse, which was shortly followed by footsteps. Seconds later, a lock clicked and the door cracked open. Dumbledore saw a large doe-like brown eye peer out from behind the door.

"Hello." Dumbledore spoke, softly, peering down at the large eye, a flash of porcelain skin, and half of a button-like nose that had appeared. "Miss Bennett, I presume?"

"Professor Dumbledore… You came. You really came." the girl murmured. Her voice was quiet, feminine and there was a strong hint of nervousness and awe. By what Dumbledore could see of her face and her voice, the girl seemed no older than a Seventh Year at Hogwarts. "I-I mean, yes—yes that is me." The girl stuttered.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at the girl, a slight twinkle in his eye. "May I come in?"

"Yes! Yes, of course," the girl flustered, she stepped back, and the door swung open to reveal a small bedroom. A moment later, the girl's face appeared from behind the door, revealing a head of mahogany hair, heart-shaped face and plump rosy lips. "P-Please come in, Prof-I mean Mr. Dumbledore." She stumbled over her words, gesturing with a shaky hand for Albus to come in.

Albus gave her a reassuring smile, that he hoped would calm her nerves, before stepping forward. Albus didn't turn until he heard the door clicked softly behind him. She remained by the door, flushed cheeks and fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. She was wearing a black muggle dress that was worn and torn in places. And judging by the emptiness of the room, she had nothing else to wear.

After a few moments of silence, Albus broke the air. "I must admit, I was quite surprised to receive your letter Miss Bennett"—

"Alice." The girl interrupted. Albus noticed the girl was small, no more than 5"3 perhaps. "Please, call me Alice. And feel free to take a seat." Alice gestured to one of the rickety chairs, across the room.

"Very well, Alice." Albus gracefully whished across the room and sat down. Alice carefully perched herself on the edge of the bed, opposite him. "Why is it that you contacted me, of all people, and not the Ministry—whom would be more equipped to this . . . situation?"

Alice blushed and uncomfortably pulled at the hem of her dress. "I-I . . . I considered it at first. But I knew, out of everyone, you were one of the people I knew I could trust." Albus lifted a questionable brow. "As soon as Fudge were to hear my story, he would probably have me sent straight to St. Mungo's for psychiatric tests . . . or worse, straight to Azkaban." Alice shuddered. "I-I know my letter probably sounded completely bizarre. You probably thought I was completely crazy, but I hope, some of the things I wrote might have given you the slightest feeling I was telling the truth?"

Albus sat back in his chair, twiddled his thumbs, giving her a hard wondering stare. "I must admit, the things you knew about me, were quite convincing. I wondered if you had some kind of involvement with my brother; perhaps he somehow let slip of my past."

Alice shook her head furiously. "N-No." she said, hardly. "I have never spoken to your brother."

Albus continued to stare. "Hm," he said. "Yes, well, that was what Aberforth said too . . . he—unlike I—had never heard of the name Alice Bennett before." Alice shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, the springs of the bed squeaking with protest. "Which lead me to believe that you were either an alley of Grindelwald himself,"—Albus raised a hand as Alice moved to interrupt—"But, while possible, I thought it highly unlikely. Many of Grindlewald's supporters disappeared the moment he was placed in Nurmengard, where he is now living out the last of his years. It seems highly unlikely that his supporters were to now, of all chances, return."—Albus twiddled his thumbs thoughtfully—"Which later led me onto thinking that perhaps you, my dear, have a gift of clairvoyance. However, there are little magical beings—a part from the centaurs—that have the ability to know things about one thing without lying eyes upon you. Should you have in-fact been a seer, you would have been able to predict my future, not my past."—Albus paused and looked at Alice with an intense, stare through pale blue orbs—"This concludes me to have no choice but to believe your story, Alice Bennett."

The young girl stared at the elderly wizard for several long, calculating minutes. "Y-You believe me?"

"Indeed." Albus Dumbledore murmured, nodding his head surely. "Now," he cleared his throat loudly. "Tell me, Alice, how did you manage to fall from an alternative universe where our whole wizarding existence is just mere fiction?"

Alice fidgeted, looking down at her hands, frown forming on her lips. "I was hiking . . ."

...

August 13th 1991

Alice Bennett stared at herself in the mirror, carefully combing through her mahogany curls.

It was a Saturday, and one of the rare days that Alice wasn't spending working in the Leaky Cauldron. It also happened to be a warm, sunny day also so Alice thought she would spend the day in Diagon Alley.

In the span of two weeks that Alice had spent in this universe, Alice had now visited Diagon Alley more times to count on her bare hands—out of wonder, bedazzlement and excitement. She wouldn't do much; she would usually walk up and down the cobbled streets, sometimes she would browse shops, and on one occasion—when the weather really was beautiful—she sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour eating a small cone of ice-cream, people-watching.

However, today was different; today Alice would be visiting Diagon Alley, baring a small pouch of golden coins and a list attached to a letter from Dumbledore himself.

Since Dumbledore's visit a week ago, Alice had received an owl with a letter and a purple velvet pouch of Galleons from Dumbledore. In the letter, Dumbledore had insisted that Alice were to use the coins to buy some new attire and necessities. Reading Dumbledore's kindness had brought a tear to Alice's eye. With Dumbledore's help, she would now be able to afford to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for another month, and could finally find something to wear other than the shaggy dress she had been wearing the day she arrived on this universe.

Alice's hand-froze as she thought back to that day—the day she fell down the rabbit hole. Alice had been hiking with her family; she had wandered too far ahead—far off the tracks, when she fell. She remembered hearing her mother's screams as she lost her balance and slipped from the rocky cliff edge before the darkness came. After that, she woke up in a damp, deserted alleyway, in central London, just outside the Leaky Cauldron… 25 years before her time.

Before now, Alice had always been a reader of the Harry Potter books—an avid fan, I suppose you could say. Her mother read her and her younger brother Henry the books as children, and when she was old enough to read the books herself, her nose was glued to the pages—eyes swiping from one page to the next in matter of minutes.

As a child, she dreamt of walking through the stone halls of Hogwarts, along the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade . . . now here she was: stuck in a fictional universe with no explanation of how or why she got here—and with no possibility of going home.

"Stop crying, child, you'll make your eyes red and your nose run—not an attractive look for potential suitors, my dear." Alice flinched as a voice interrupted her from her thoughts. Seconds later, she released the voice had come from the mirror. Alice blinked through tears, taking in her appearance. She really did look bad—but still, an improvement since the day she arrived. The colour had returned to her cheeks, but the dark rings were still present under her eyes. She hadn't had a proper night's sleep for the past two weeks.

Alice roughly wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned away from the mirror, pocketing her purple velvet pouch of Galleons and headed straight out of the door, without a second thought.

With no surprise, the Leaky Cauldron was busy. Tom was hard at work behind the bar—though stopped to help her through the brick walled entrance to Diagon Alley—and Flora, the middle-aged waitress was laughing with customers, as she hastily wiped down tables and collected glasses with a swish of her wand.

Alice got along with Tom and Flora just fine. She knew the both of them were curious about her, and were dying to ask questions, but since Dumbledore's visit they had been strangely silent on the interrogation-front, which made her wonder if Dumbledore had mentioned something.

For a hot summery day, Diagon Alley surprisingly empty—bar the small crowd of people clustered around Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She could see Florean handing a small child a cone of ice-cream with a smile on his face. Alice smiled at the sight—remembering the kindness Florean had showed her the first time she had entered the parlour. It felt as if she made her first friend since she wound up in this world. Alice made the effort to come and say hello, when she could, but she had the feeling Florean would be too busy today.

Alice sighed, peering her eyes along the cobbled streets and shops, still finding the awe of being here—in Diagon Alley—still present. A small part of her knew the feeling of excitement would never go away. She made her way down the street, heading straight to her first point of call: Ollivanders.

It was concluded by Dumbledore there was a possibility that Alice may, in-fact, be able to conjure magic. If she was able to find her way into the Leaky Cauldron, a place where muggles cannot find, there had to be a certain degree of magic within her. Dumbledore thought it best that Alice go straight to Ollivanders, to purchase a wand; if a wand were to bond to her, then Alice was undoubtedly a witch.

Alice came to a halting stop outside Ollivanders, suddenly finding herself incapable to breathe. It wasn't the first time she had seen Ollivanders (which she would sometimes linger outside, peering into the window on her visits to Diagon Alley), but it was the first time going inside. Alice nervously swallowed. Either way, she would be exiting this shop with an answer to Dumbledore and Alice's question—was she a witch?

The front door chimed as she walked through. The inside was just as she depicted—black wooden furniture, shelves of boxed up wands after wands, not a spec of dust on the place. On the front counter, there was a large stroll and a quill that danced across the page, pausing only once in a while to collect more ink from the pot next to the scroll. Alice watched the quill move in fascination, until she heard a soft whisper of a voice.

"How may I help you?"

Alice glanced up at Ollivander, staring into his sharp grey eyes. "Y-yes. I-I would like to purchase a wand."

"A replacement?" Ollivander responded, standing behind the counter, where the quill continued to move.

Alice shook her head. "No, this would be my first wand."

Ollivander raised a curious brow. "Your first wand?" Alice nodded stiffly. "Hm, a late bloomer, I suppose?"

"I suppose."

Ollivander stared at her curiously. "Very well, you wouldn't be my first. I assume you thought you were a Squib until now?" Alice nodded again, feeling words fail her. "And when did your magic first appear?"

Alice felt her mouth go dry. "Well, it—um—it hasn't." Ollivander was starting to look as if he was being played a prank on. "I was advised by Dumbledore to come to you."

"By Dumbledore, you say? And I presume he believes you are a late-bloomer?" Ollivander stared at her over his small spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Once more, Alice nodded again. "Very well, we will see what I can do. But the wand chooses the wizard, Miss . . ."-

"Bennett. Alice Bennett."

-"And I'm afraid, with your situation, there a chance a wand will not choose you. If you do not possess magic, a wand is a useless tool."

Alice inhaled. "I understand."

Ollivander gave her a long, sturdy stare before turning away—moving to his shelves of wands, muttering under his breath, as he pulled boxes after boxes from the shelves. Alice watched nervously as Ollivander returned with a dozen boxes, placing them neatly on the counter. He didn't acknowledge her until he flourished the first wand from it's box, gesturing it to her to take. Alice hesitated. "Come along, child, we don't have all day."

Alice breathed, and curled her hand around the wand. It felt surprisingly cool to touch. Ollivander watched the wand, eyes like a hawk, for a long thoughtful minute. Alice remembered vaguely how wands were snatched from Harry's hand after no more than second of holding it.

"There is definitely magic within you." Ollivander spoke after a long moment. "Dumbledore was right to bring you to me."

"So . . . I am a witch?"

Ollivander hummed. "It appears so." And with that, the wand was snatched from her hand and replaced with another. "Give this one a try—oak, unicorn hair, 7 ¾ inches, flexible."

By the time Alice returned to her room, her stomach was still filled with butterflies as she carried her new wand in her back pocket. After what became a full two hours of testing wands, Alice finally left a slightly exhausted Ollivander, with a new wand and a smile on her face.

The wand was—in her eyes—beautiful. It was hawthorn wood, unicorn core and 8 ¾ inches. The moment that it was placed in her hand, she felt an instant connection; she could almost feel the wand connecting inside her, most probably connecting with magic that did not exist until now. A warmth began from the tips of her fingers, travelling up her entire arm.

Since first finding herself here, Alice found herself feeling strangely happy as she admired the wand.

When she returned to her room, Alice discovered she had a visitor waiting for her; a beautiful snowy owl sat perched at her window, which she had left open to bring some air in. And perched in the owl's beak was a letter, baring familiar writing addressed to her—Dumbledore's perfect scrawl. Alice thanked the owl as she pulled the letter from it's beak. It hooted, as if telling her that she was instructed to wait reply.

Alice pulled the letter apart and began to read.

Dear Alice,

I trust your visit to Ollivander's went well.

I am writing to confirm I have found you a temporary place of residence in Hogsmeade, which will be ready within the next fortnight. Trusting you have found yourself a suitable wand, under Ollivander's capable hands, I have also arranged for tutoring lessons with some trustworthy teachers at Hogwarts. I will enclose more information upon our next meeting.

Please write and confirm whether you are available on the 1st September.

Kind Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

Alice couldn't believe it; she was going to live in Hogsmeade. Alice pulled out another fresh piece of parchment, which she had bought just this very day, along with a new quill and ink and began to write.

Dear Albus,

I can confirm my visit to Ollivander's went very well, and I am now an owner of a wand.

Thank you, once again, for your kind generosity and for arranging all this for me. I do not know how I will ever thank you.

I will let Tomas know I will be leaving on the 1st September.

I look forward to seeing you in two weeks.

Best wishes,

Alice Bennett

...

September 1st 1991

Alice Elizabeth Bennett carefully packed her small cluster of belongings into her suitcase; on-top of her small collection of neatly folded clothing, she placed her new second-hand copies of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', 'The Standard Book of Spells', 'Dark Arts Defense: Basics for Beginners', 'A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration', 'A History of Magic', and finally 'Goshawk's Guide to Herbology' into her small trunk.

Beside her trunk, sporadically spread on the sheets of her bed, were a bundle of other belongings yet to be packed—some new, some that had came with her from the other side. The first thing—the most prominent thing—was her new wand; other things, that had came from her real world, was her Polaroid camera full and loaded, a couple of bobby pins, a lip balm and a un-useable credit card. For the most part, Alice was bringing the belongings for what they held—a little piece of the world she had been torn away from so suddenly.

A month had passed since Alice was mysteriously pulled from her world, and slowly Alice was beginning to accept she was no-longer living in a dream; there was only so much one could pinch themselves until finally they had no choice but to accept all of things really was real. The month had consisted of working endless hours at the Leaky Cauldron, everything she earned going into the room Tom had provided for her. But now with the help of Dumbledore, Alice was now leaving the Leaky Cauldron and heading to Hogsmeade.

After coming to the amicable acceptance that Alice was, indeed, telling the truth and stranded with new powers she did not originally had, in a world she did not even believe in, Albus Dumbledore arranged for Alice to move into a cottage in the village of Hogsmeade; she was 15 years old, within a few weeks she would be 16, which meant she was technically old enough to be a Fifth Year. But, due to having no other magical education, Alice wouldn't be able to be transferred into Fifth Year classes. Dumbledore came to the conclusion that Alice was to move to Hogsmeade, where he would arrange evening classes at Hogwarts with the teachers.

Unbeknownst to Dumbledore, Alice would be living amongst the timeline of Harry Potter from the sidelines; whilst the happenings of the Harry Potter timeline was going on, Alice will be there—in Hogsmeade—watching on. Alice wished she could tell Dumbledore, tell what was to happen (Voldemort's return, his death, the Horcruxes, Sirius Black's innocence and death, the impending war. . .), but Dumbledore and Alice had agreed from early on that they would never discuss the future. After all, Alice did not belong in this world, and neither she nor Dumbledore knew what the ramifications of changing the future would cause.

"Alice, my dear," Dumbledore's kind voice said from the doorway of her room. He stood, dressed in magenta robes, his infamous half-mooned glasses and the usual twinkle in his eyes. "I'm afraid I must press you for time."

Alice nodded, turning back to her trunk, shoving the rest of her belongings in and snapping the trunk shut. She pocketed her wand, and heaved the trunk to the ground.

She took one last glance around the room, where in the past month this had become her home of sorts. She was glad Tom had let her stay for so long, with such little money to spare. For the past month, Alice offered her services to help cover the cost of the room; she would spend most nights in the pub, serving drinks and cleaning tables. It was long, hard hours, but it was something . . . something to keep her by and keep her mind off restless thoughts.

With the help of Dumbledore, they walked down the long rickety corridor, her suitcase floating in front of them and down into the pub. There, Alice bid her farewell to Tom and Flora—whom had become friends of sorts—before exiting the Leaky Cauldron. She had no idea when she would next be at this place again, perhaps never.

Outside of the Leaky Cauldron, she took Dumbledore's arm and the two Disapparated with a soft crack into the London air. Alice snapped her eyes shut, her breath being forced out of her lungs as she felt as if she was being pulled through a tight tube. When the sensation lifted, and the air returned to her lungs, she re-opened her eyes and found herself looking at the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"Apologies, I perhaps should have warned you." Dumbledore said, tightening his hold on Alice, as she stumbled slightly. There was a slight twinkle of amusement in his eye, but Alice paid no attention to him—nor to the slight light-headness she felt from the Apparation.

The village was beautiful; a winding cobbled path, that lead up a soft hill lined with a cluster of stone cottages. It looked just how she imagined it. Up the cobbled street, she could just make out The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, Zonko's and more. She spotted a few wizards already ambling up and down the street, into the shops and into The Three Broomsticks.

And then, over the hill, Alice could see the vague outline of none other than Hogwarts; she could spot the misty outline of the towers and spiked roofs. A strange pang hit her stomach; for so long Alice had always dreamt of being here, in this world, and now she was actually here . . . well, the feelings were overwhelming. Even from the distance they were at from the castle, it was undeniably beautiful against the early morning backdrop. It was barely dawn the moment Dumbledore and Alice left the Leaky Cauldron, which meant students had yet to arrive at the castle.

Dumbledore didn't seem to spot her tears she tried to conceal, but if he did, he didn't mention anything as he led her with a gentle hand on her back to a small lavender-stone cottage just past the Hog's Head.

The cottage was small, from the outside and the inside. The box-like sitting room held no more than a log-fire, an armchair, a bookshelf and a small two-seater coach. As for the kitchen, it didn't seem enough to fit anymore than two people in at a time. Upstairs, there was no more than a small master bedroom, a bathroom and a box study/spare room. Outside, there was a small garden which didn't look like it had been tended to in many years.

Despite herself, Alice foresaw herself transforming the garden into something of a beauty. As a child, Alice always used to help her mother tend to their garden.

As for the cottage itself—she saw possibilities; the empty, untouched attic, which could be turned into a loft compartment. Of course all these changes very much depended on how long she would be here.

The cottage itself wasn't much, but it was enough for one person. There was, however, a small surprise as she walked into the kitchen. There sitting on one of the kitchen table was a beautiful barn owl.

"As a witch, it's only necessary you have an owl." Dumbledore informed, as Alice carefully eyed the owl perched on her kitchen table, pecking at feathers underneath his wing.

Alice opened her mouth, the overwhelming feelings inside of her suddenly becoming too much. "Albus . . . I have . . . I have no idea how I can possibly pay you back for all this. It's all too much—the cottage, the owl, the books, the wand, the tutoring sessions." Alice wiped away a stray tear that threatened to roll down her cheeks. "I don't deserve the kindness that you have given me."

Dumbledore gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. "Perhaps not now," Dumbledore hummed. "But I have a feeling you will deserve it for the future to come, with whatever you do to change this world for the better."

Alice swallowed the thick lump in her throat. "And what if I can't change anything?"

"Miss Bennett," Dumbledore gave her an almost scornful look. "Your entire existence here has already changed something in this world—has it not?"