DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of Fan Fiction, and all publicly recognisable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners.
The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work.
Maleficent, and all characters within is owned by the Disney Corporation
Harry Potter, and all characters within is owned by J.K. Rowling
Prologue
It was a beautiful day in the Moors, and as usual most of its denizens were very happy and content with their lives. Barring a few dark years in the recent past, life in the Moors had always been a harmonious one, some would probably even call it a paradise. On this particular day, most were even happier than usual, excited and bordering on outright giddy.
In a distant corner of this wondrous place, though, at a pond the furthest from the current dwelling of Maleficent, the most powerful fairy the Moors had ever known, Knotgrass, a lonely old little pixie dressed in pink, was anything but happy. Or content.
Over the past few years, after the whole debacle with their new queen had settled, she had been harbouring an increasing hate and loathing for Maleficent; her former ruler. As she was one of those people incapable of finding fault in their own reasoning or actions, Knotgrass had settled on focusing her ire at the most prominent being she could.
"16 years I've wasted, raising that brat," she was seething, "In a miserable hovel. As a human!" she actually spat out that last word, as if it was the greatest insult of them all, which to her is actually was. "And for what? So she could become my new queen?" she screamed at the sky shaking in anger, her tiny fists clenched while a considerable amount of magic started buzzing around her.
Knotgrass had put up a brave face and presented a front of caring for the past few years, but that was all it was, a front. She had long ago, and secretly vowed to pay back Maleficent for the grave injustice she felt she had caused her. "16 years!" she sobbed.
In her opinion her two companions were too stupid to even hold a grudge for long, and were probably already busy pampering and gushing over the latest addition to the Moors. The cause of her latest ranting.
In truth, no one had been more surprised at the latest development than Maleficent herself, though with a bit of common sense and foresight, it would have been a foregone conclusion. As was often the case, everybody had seen the writing on the wall, so to speak, except for the two people involved. Eventually Maleficent had found herself being swept off her feet, and the result was the daughter she had given birth to this same morning, explaining the celebratory mood everywhere else in the Moors.
The angry little pixie was blinded by her fury, though, and started to draw in copious amounts of magic from the surrounding magical pools. Pools which contained far more than just the plain water that most non-magical people saw, but at the bottom of these grew crystals and stones unique to the Moors. All of them essentially solidified magic, explaining why they were so sought after by human wizards and witches, as any of them usually contained enough energy to power spells and rituals far beyond the normal magical capabilities of these human magic users, or greatly aid them in most other forms of magical endeavours.
Knotgrass inadvertently pulled in all of it from the nearby pools. Power so far beyond the capabilities of her little body to channel, that it, along with the corrupting power of her fury and jealousy, essentially burned out her physical form, though her spirit and her dark intent, her desire for revenge, kept fuelling what she had started.
16 years, that was the last thing Knotgrass had thought about.
The raw nature of magic is wild and untamed, absolute control and focus is imperative for any spell to succeed as intended, lest the outcome can be twisted dramatically. The amount of magic Knotgrass had already gathered was immense indeed, and but for the raw emotion that initially guided it, it was now utterly without any control beyond that initial desire.
The wish that Maleficent should endure 16 years of anguish, as her newborn daughter would for that time be remade as mere human, and sent far away while shunned by her peers as she grew up, the opposite of the life the young Aurora had endured, was only partially expressed desire by Knotgrass, before the magic she had called for burned her little body to ashes.
Magic made it happen, even if Knotgrass had never made any conscious thought of where the infant were to be sent, but it had power to spare, power that the intent and the very nature of magic itself demanded be used.
Magic has a very limited sentience, especially when it reaches truly staggering magnitudes as inadvertently was called into play by Knotgrass. Any less, and there wouldn't have been enough sentience to do anything but to just release it, a release that would have had cataclysmic consequences for the surrounding countryside, however this time there was another option, one that the newborn temporary sentience deemed sufficient to drain the magic safely. It swept it under the rug of time and space.
The bliss of the Moors was ruptured by the scream of utter despair, as once again Maleficent lost part of her heart.
Seven hundred years later in a London suburb, a brief portal opened and a little fairy girl, now in human form replaced an infant, one that had tragically just died from an undiscovered birth defect, her parents none the wiser. Not even a few years later when accidental magic would clue them into the fact that their beloved bushy haired little girl was special. If anything they loved her even more for it, even if the magic was released as the result from yet another day of teasing and bullying from her classmates, her peers.
Magic is all about balance, though, and the spirit of the now dead pixie, Knotgrass, was also cast forward in time, but arrived decades earlier, latching itself to the being resembling it the most, bringing with it her most unnatural fondness for anything pink.