HI DARLINGS! I'M BACK!

And I brought a lovely new story with me :3

The updates of this story are going to be way tooooooo slow so please, please, PLEASE bear with me, to be honest I'm just going to update every now and then so... yeah... please be patient...

Rated M because of possible future lemons or/and gore, and because I'm paranoid! Rate might change later in the story (but I doubt it).

And NOW!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine (unfortunately) I just own the plot and my beautiful OC's :3

Summary: When you think you are dead after a very tragic accident with no probabilities of surviving, don't try going around it, you are. When you think you are reborn in a fantasy world with magic, werewolves, vampires, metamorphagus and Death Eaters like in the Harry Potter universe, and you are not me, you are probably crazy. But well, I never said I wasn't crazy. Maybe I should have taken the bus after all...

Pairing: None so far... I accept suggestions :3

Warnings: AU, OC's Non-Cannon, OOCness, meddling Dumbledore. More warnings will be added in the future.

"Blah..." talking

'Blah...' thinking

"Blah..." dreams/flashbacks

"Blah..." French

Published: 04-26-14

Updated: 12-28-14

Prologue

― Death And Rebirth ―

(Second Chances And Opportunities)

Mia's PoV

The story of my dead was a fairly quick one. It involved a boy, a car, rain, and of course, me, alongside with some unfortunate circumstances. It was merely seconds before my dead that I learned a very invaluable lesson, pity. Very unfortunate indeed.

I was never very religious, despite my parents and grandparents efforts to make me pray and thank god for being alive, yadda, yadda. I guess that it was because of their insistence of believing in God that I ended up not believing it him, it... whatever the hell I was supposed to refer to God. So of course, when I was unfortunate enough to think it would be a good idea to save a kid from dying and I ended up under the car... well, I seriously thought there would be nothing more there.

But nooooooo, apparently I had the luck of a ball and was kicked in my family jewels ―so to speak― and back into a life that I really didn't wanted to.

I wonder if I had angered some mayor deity in my last life... unless it was actually God, because if that was the case I was screwed, like, big time.

So when I ended in some kind of cage I was reasonably unhappy.

No, señor.

I was not happy.

At first I thought, 'well, maybe I'm not dead after all' but when I started doing the math, and noticing how it didn't feel like my ass on a hard hospital bed ―because I fucking knew damn too well how those little shits felt, they were hard as rocks, not comfy at all― I realized that I had to be dead, there was no way around it. Plain and simple.

The first thing I noticed after I was pretty sure I was dead after all was that I felt like I was floating in nothingness. It was like that for a while and with time until I started to be able to feel the confines of my prison and although the barriers were supple and soft, they were unyielding, no matter how hard I pushed they never bugged. So when the day the barriers decided to push me back, to say that I nearly had a hear attack would be an understatement. I would have shit myself if I had been able to.

There was desperation to have some contact and perhaps escape my prison too, I started to pound the walls with all my might but after what seemed an eternity I stopped when I realized the wall wouldn't move, at least not at my will but at someone else's. Not long after that, I succumbed to darkness as I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. It wasn't like I could go anywhere...

When I regain consciousness, it felt less comfortable than the last time I was awake and I noticed how my 'home' felt considerably smaller, there just didn't seemed to be enough space for me to move around freely, or as freely as I could, the last few months(?) I noticed that my 'home' started to get smaller and smaller. I had already curved myself into a small ball as much as possible, but my cell seemed to have shrunk around myself while I was asleep. Fortunately do me, my senses were somewhat clearer and although the rhythmical thunder I had heard before was rather loud, I had gotten used to it and didn't even realize it was there anymore.

When I first thought, 'are those drums?' when I heard constant thumps against my ears I immediately thought it had been my imagination. However, when I pressed my ear to the wall of my cell, I was certain that I could hear something else beyond the drums. It sounded muffled, like when people where taking two rooms away from your own and you desperately wanted to hear the conversation but couldn't because there were two fucking walls in the middle that made it difficult. It was then that the realization that it was the sound of people taking, suddenly made me feel claustrophobic and panicky, because shit, it had been months since the last time I had contact with another human being! I once more began to pound on the walls of my cell trying to get the attention of those persons so they could take me out of this horrible, horrible place. It was difficult because I had barely enough space to move my arms around, let along get a good hit on it. I wanted to scream and shout, but nothing more than a strangled gurgle escaped my lips. I didn't really knew if they were my captors or not, but fuck it, I wanted out, and out I would have. I was a spoiled little thing when I was younger and if I didn't get what I wanted I always found a way to make it happen. AMELIA ARMSTRONG ALWAYS GOT WHAT SHE WANTED!

Suddenly, the cell around myself cramped, and everything was moving and was that liquid pouring over myself and where the hell had that come from and the drums were beating in a frenzied rhythm and I was sure that I was hearing screaming and what was that freaking pulling feeling? AND FUCKING SHIT WOMAN! SHUT IT! YOU AREN'T BEING RIPPED IN HALF HERE! Gosh, I felt like my head was being forced to go through a little tube with a radius of 3 centimeters... IT HURT!

When I reemerged into some bloody light for the first time in what must have been years, because it certainly felt like it, I could hardly breathe since something that resembled liquid mucus was clogging my mouth and sinuses. I was asphyxiating, terrified and cold, so I gave into my instincts and let out a blood-curdling screech. Or at least that was what I had tried to do. What came out as a spluttering little sneeze and a high-pitched whine, which was quickly smothered with something warm and fluffy that nonetheless felt coarse against my now sensitive skin. Haven't you guys ever heard of Johnson Baby's?

My eyes, after spending what felt like years in complete darkness were unaccustomed to all the harsh light so I had scrunched them up as tightly as I could, but once something had more or less covered the fluorescent lights that were piercing my irises, I opened them tentatively, trying to make out my whereabouts and the people who had been torturing me so cruelly.

I couldn't really make out things, it was blurry, and somehow colorless. The colors were there, just not... really, it was difficult to explain. But I did managed to make out made me scream again.

What I saw almost scared the crap out of me. I shit you not.

My mother and father, both of them looking younger than I remember and also bigger were looking down at me with smiles on their faces. I noticed that they had lost their Latin features, instead they looked more... American? European? I couldn't really pint point which one, but their caramel skin and dark hair and eyes had disappeared and were replaced by lighter colors. My father's looks didn't change that much, skin was a lighter caramel color and he had light brown hair and almond eyes. My mother in the other hand was the total opposite. Her long straight black hair was now replaced by curly short dark blonde hair and her dark brown eyes were now a light brown, almost almond like my father's, she also seemed to have gained a few inches and lost a few pounds like my father.

"She looks so cute!" My mother, I supposed, squealed in what I could recognize as French, ―thank you so much for making me loose that bet, dear brother of mine, I have never been more happy than right now of learning French― and I winced at the volume of her voice. Obviously, no one had ever told her not to yell in the presence of new born babies, idiots.

"Hush darling, let our daughter sleep." My father coaxed calmly and looked at me from the corner of his eyes, a soft smile painted on his face. It was weird, my father, my real father, had never seen me with such soft eyes. At lest not since my little sister died. It was like seeing a talking dog.

"Can I see her father?" Another voice interjected and I frowned confused, that voice sounded very familiar, but...nah, it was just my imagination.

"Of course, son." My father said, and I felt myself being shifted from a pair of arms to another, this ones seemed warmer and... welcoming, so unlike my mother's... Wasn't that supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't a baby supposed to feel the safest when with their mothers? I tell you, WEIRD!

I peered shyly to the man's face and my eyes widened when I found my brother's face, but that wasn't what surprised me, no. What surprised me was the fact that I knew my brother was four years older than me, yet the person in holding me in his arms was at least fifteen years old.

"Look at her, she's beautiful." My brother smiled at me adoringly, an emotion I had never seen in his face. Okay, this was officially weird. I GIVE! You got me guys, this isn't funny anymore!

My brother and I had a horrible relation, since our little sister, Amanda died when she was five, me being eleven at the time, and him fifteen, he wasn't the same. None of us were. Our father buried himself in his work while our mother created a fake life for herself and pretended we didn't exist, my brother started focusing even more in school up to the point you have to literally force him to eat like a baby. I, the other hand, not having anyone to lean on, started immersing into the fantasy world, things like anime, cartoons, video games and books became my new reality. There were only a few selected people I actually cared about, people who I wasn't related at all. I could count them with a single hand.

I felt my body being held tighter but not enough to hurt me and suddenly something wet touched my cheek, it smelled salty.

He was crying.

I brought my tiny hand to his face and clumsily cleaned his tears with it after nearly poking his eye and nose, making him look at me in surprise to then start chuckling softly, but his laugh was all wrong, it wounded hollow, empty, like then Amy died.

"Look at you, all small and fragile and yet, you are the one giving me comfort instead of the other way around." He said with a chuckle. "You are one strange baby, I will have to ask bis sis if I was like that too..." My big brother mused looking at me for another second before tears brimmed his eyes and started falling once again. "I'm so sorry, sis, I'm so sorry." He started sobbing holding me close to his chest crouching slightly so our heads touched each others "I'm so sorry you have to be born in this family, I'm so sorry." He choked and I felt my own eyes watering. What had happened to him? This wasn't the brother I remembered, the brother I knew would never cry in front of other person and would never show me affection.

I tried calling him, but the only thing I could manage was making a 'Gah!' sound that made him chuckle.

"Really, you are such a weird baby, Mia." Well, at least that's better than Amelia, right? How I hate that name... It can't get any worse that that, right?

Well, shit. Apparently, I was wrong. It did get worse. Fuck you, Lady Karma, fuck you. I thought we were friends!

Miaplacidus Vindemiatrix Capella Channelle Cœurnet Celaeno della Stella with some more titles added here and there, I think my older brother mentioned something about me being a Duchess or something like that. Sweet.

But seriously, Miaplacidus is the worst name you could give a child. I sounds like shit, literally. I had an awfully long name that often gave me migraines. Of course, my parents and siblings weren't that much better. I would actually recite them if I remembered them, but yeah, they are that difficult to remember. I only know for sure that we are named after stars and constellations, mostly. But now that I think about it, don't name your kids after starts, and if you do, don't give them more than one name... It gets tedious after a while.

Our family history was quite... interesting. We had French, German, Japanese, British, American, Mexican, Brazilian and Italian roots ―but mostly French, not that we looked anything like the others― and it was family tradition to name the kids after stars. And as a result, our family settled in France after constantly traveling the first two years of my life.

My childhood on the other hand was eventful, for lack of better words. The first few months of my new life were horrible. I could never ask for a worse punishment than that. Why you may ask? Well, being a baby is exactly what is sounds like. You can't eat by yourself, you can't go to the bathroom by yourself, you can't walk by yourself, etc. I could go on forever but that is not the point. As I technically knew how to talk and walk etc, etc, it was very frustrating when I had to everything all over again, I had to admit it wasn't so difficult because I had learned French when I was in high school along with Japanese, and I had the mentality of a seventeen year old, eighteen it you counted the year I had already lived in this world before I had decided I could learn to walk without creating an scandal.

When I was two, I discover an ability that made me piss my pants, my brother and older sister by nineteen years ―Nash and Amy, respectively― who ironically shared the names of my first set of siblings, had a hard time trying to convince our mother that I didn't need to go back to diapers, bless their souls. It was a perfectly normal day for me, and I was playing with my brother after he came back form school, that day he came earlier than usual and didn't have any homework, and our parents were out so we have the whole evening for us. Amy had been taking care of me, her husband had work to do and she offered to take care of me since our mother was nearly whining about wanting to go shopping. We were playing to make animal sounds ―yes, I was doing that, don't judge― when Nash's eyes suddenly widened like round plates and Amy's face lost color. I was confused by this and turned my head to the side where a mirror was, and I literally pissed myself when I saw my reflection.

I had a pig snout.

A. PIG. SNOUT.

Did anyone else see what was wrong here?

I was too young to have Schizophrenia.

I immediately started crying and both Nash and Amy was quick to try and calm me down, when he finally did, the pig snout had disappeared and I was back to normal.

Mostly.

My wavy platinum blonde, nearly white, hair that reminded me so much of the actor from my previous life Tom Felton, had disappeared and was now replaced with a wavy light brown hair. My usually light grey eyes with threads of green, blue and almond around the iris had turned a plain and dull grey color and my porcelain colored skin and my features that made me look like my father was now a sickly pale skin making me look like our mother.

Ugh, I shivered at the mere thought.

When I was three I also learned why my brother was so upset I was born into the family. Apparently, both our parents came from old money and they wanted to have male heirs. My sister was lucky of falling in love with her fiancee, now husband, and since I was a female, they would probably try to marry me off to some rich guy. Something my siblings didn't want, neither for me nor for him. Our parents had arranged a marriage between him and another girl two years younger than him when she was born, and my brother only learned about it when our mother announced she was pregnant with me. Not even Amy knew.

Three months after the pig incident, the day of his eighteen birthday, he packed his bags and left our house.

Not even once did he turned round. Not even when I called after him crying my eyes out, begging him to stop.

After he left, things starting to go bad for me. Before he left, our parents used to praise me a lot and call me a genius. I didn't loved the attention but if was better than nothing, when I was a little baby our mother suddenly lost interest in me and my father was usually out, not to mention that Amy was most of the time in her own home. My brother was the one to raise me. Anyway, our mother started neglecting me while our father tried to bury himself in his work, which led to fights between them, and ultimately, to their divorce.

Things went from bad to worse after that, to my mother, I was a constant remanding of her 'mistakes' as she likes to put it, and not long after she and my dad separated and I was left in her custody since my dad was often away from home. She started insulting me and treating me like a slave, often hitting me when I didn't do my chores like I was supposed to. Without Nash or Amy here, as she started to get busy with work and her own growing family, there was no one there to protect me.

When I was four, I started noticing how every time I got extremely angry with my mother weird things would happen around me. Things usually turned to ice or would catch fire, but if not, things would move or break and that often got me in even more trouble.

When I was five I discover that I maybe after all I wasn't crazy. Nor was I accidentally drugging myself. It was just after I fought with my mother and I was looking at my reflection in the mirror when I suddenly wished we wouldn't look so much alike. It was then when it happened. My wavy light brown hair that reached the small of my back suddenly turned a platinum blonde color with white streaks and my usually dull grey eyes turned a lighter shade and the iris of my eyes seemed to have acquire threads of green, blue and almond around them. My usually sickly pale skin was now a milky white color and my features changed to make me look different.

Just like I used to look before the pig snout incident.

My mother had a field trip when she realized I didn't look like her anymore and before I could do anything at all, she dropped me off at the farthest orphanage from there and left me there to rot with only the clothes I had on and a pocket watch that used to belong to Nash, the only thing I had left from him.

Wool's Orphanage. That was where she left me.

It had to be a sick joke or something. Wool's Orphanage? Like the orphanage Tom Riddle grew up with.

Someone up there is seriously messing with me.

She must have done it on purpose because the orphanage looked like a prison rather than an orphanage and they treated you worse.

There I met a very weird boy who since the first time he saw me, he wouldn't leave me alone.

His name was Regulus Nigellus Prince.

When I first heard his name I had started laughing like crazy, but he just looked at me with unimpressed eyes and a raised eyebrow waiting patiently for me to stop. When I finally did he raised him hand and slapped me around the face before talking my hand and dragging me to his room. I had allowed him to drag me around, not knowing what else to do, and obviously still dumbfounded. When we arrived to his room he pushed me gently inside and then shut the door behind him making sure to lock the door.

I was ready to start screaming rape.

Regulus started babbling about how he knew he wasn't the only one and that he knew someone like him would cross him path one way or another. Then he proceeded to hug the daylights out of me and after a very unwanted hugging session, he called me a witch.

A freaking witch.

Now it was my turn to slap him.

What the hell was wrong with this kid! you don't go around insulting girls and calling them witches!

Now, I must admit, this made me feel like Lily Potter, still Evan at the time, when Severus Snape ―or Sev, like she called him― when he tells her she's a witch after Petunia left running and nearly screaming bloody murder.

But yeah, you get the point.

Anyway, after that he started explaining all about magic and pureblood families and muggle-born and yadda, yadda. At first I thought he had too much sugar and he would drop it after a while, but with the pass of the months he kept insisting and I finally exploded telling him nothing about the Harry Potter world existed.

Imagine my surprise when he told me that he knew no Harry Potter, but he knew there was a Potter family that was a pureblood and then proceeded to interrogate me about my relation to them.

It was then when it hit me like a bullet in the head.

When I had been 'reborn', I was born in the Harry Potter world instead of mine.

It was creepy and exiting at the same time.

Fuck, someone up there really hated me...

PUFFFF! That was awfully long...

Sooooo... you love it? hate it?

I love you guys don't forget to review! XD

And sorry for the mistakes.

[*] No, señor: No, sir. (Spanish)

*Quick note: I actually don't hate the name Amelia, and if you were wondering, no, that's not my real name (though I wish Mia was...)

Bye bye!

Mia Heartnet out~