I never knew life could end so quickly. It's not something you would expect, would you? I mean, when you walk outside of your door on a warm, late spring morning and hop in your crappy old Volvo to drive to school, you don't take the extra time to say goodbye to your parents. You don't expect that someone will ram into your car, and that your brakes will fail, making you spin out of control and eventually catapulting you onto the train tracks. It's just not really something that you contemplate every day.
That morning, I was mad at my mom for not letting me go to see a film with my boyfriend. On that day- May 14, 2008- I was eighteen, very nearly nineteen, and too headstrong and rebellious for my own good. That morning, I died.
When I 'woke' up, it was white and soft. My eyes scanned the room, but it seemed to be made of solid mist. As I sat up, the mist formed into a familiar street. The very street I died on, actually. I blinked again, and shapes, blurs formed around me. I could identify an ambulance, then, with a loud whistle, a train- heading right for my car. It hit one corner of the old, black Volvo and sent it spinning back into the road.
"Hello my dear." An old, comforting voice said. I didn't turn around, my eyes riveted as the paramedics in vain to save my life. I was a horrible, bloody mess.
"God, is the whole rebirth thing real?"
The man that I assumed was God chuckled and sat down next to me. I slowly sank down next to him as my little sister hopped out of a car that had been taking her to the Middle School and ran to me… well, what was left of me, at least.
"Oh, I think so. Why?" God asked.
"I dunno. I'm dead, aren't I? And I feel like I didn't get to live very long. It's just fair that I would get a second chance, yes?" I asked absently as my mother showed up and frantically asked a paramedic what was going on. "And, if you say yes, could I be sent back as a witch or a werewolf or vampire? They sound really cool, you know?"
God laughed outright. "Unfortunately, my dear, you cannot change your basic structure. You may be a witch if it pleases you, but a werewolf or vampire cannot happen. Unless you get bitten when you go back."
I finally turned to look at the man sitting next to me. "You, know God, you look a lot like Albus Dumbledore to me."
His eyes sparkled at me from behind half-moon spectacles. "I am Albus Dumbledore. I shall assume that you have read those wonderful book by Joanne Rowling, then?"
"Biggest fan in my school." I replied. Then my face fell. "I won't be able to see the six or seventh movies come out."
Dumbledore chuckled again. "I daresay that you shall find no need to see them in a movie theater, as they may very well be happening around you."
"But they're all over by now, aren't they?" I looked back at the road as I saw my father arrive. My mother turned into his embrace while my sister clung to my hand, now lifeless.
"Now? Yes. But I have no clue as to what time you will be sent out at, or what age." He said, his eyes also returning to the scene in front of us.
"When do I find out?" It was odd, really, how unaffected by my own death I was.
"Whenever you decide to, let's say, take a walk down a street, or hitch a ride from a passing car." He said, eyes twinkling madly again.
"Or ride a train, perhaps?" I asked, my mouth twitching.
"Quite so."
"Well then, this is good-bye." I said, getting up and absently straightening my skirt.
"I do hope that we shall not meet again, my dear." Dumbledore said, shaking my hand from his position on the ground. My mouth twitched again. "By the way, my dear, I should tell you that you might have scars from your accident." I nodded once, my mouth no longer curved in a smile.
With that, I began walking, letting my feet carry me to where they wanted to go. It was not long before I realized that I was no longer in the mist place, but in a real place. It wasn't much, a small room with a mirror, bed, and wardrobe. I opened the one door and glanced out. There was a large tapestry of a man and some trolls in ballet apparel. I was in the Room of Requirement. I closed the door again and looked into the wardrobe. There was several robes and uniforms, along with a wand that I immediately picked up. It felt nice in my hands, and a trail of dull red sparks flew from its end. I grinned triumphantly, trying to remember other spells from the books.
"Accio robes!" I said clearly. The robes gave a little twitch. "Accio robes!" A pair of robes jumped into my hands. "Accio uniform!" The uniform sailed towards me on it's hanger. I deposited them on the bed, then finally looked into the mirror, something I had been avoiding.
And for good reason. I felt like Remus Lupin had taken all his scars, then stole Severus Snape's, and then deposited them all on me. A me who was thirteen, complete with pimples. Well, crap. Dumbledore did give me fair warning, however.
"I have to go through puberty twice." I groaned, sinking onto the bed. "I have to re-get my period, and boobs, and… and…" I slowly started to crumble onto the bed, tears running down my face. This was how I dealt with the big things- by crying about the little ones. Like when we were told that my grandma had died. I was completely dry-eyed throughout the whole thing, but as they were about to close the casket, I freaked out because she didn't have her favorite quilt with her. They had to stall the funeral while my dad went back to get it. As often happens with little girls crying, I fell asleep during my sob-fest.
I awoke the next morning with something that felt akin to a hangover. That, oddly enough, reminded me of something. I lifted my shirt and looked at my back, unsure of what I wanted the outcome to be. It wasn't there. My Dark Mark that I had gotten tattooed on my back only two months previous in a fit of rebellious drunkenness was no longer there. I sighed in relief; one less thing to explain. It seemed like I'd completely reverted back to my thirteen-year-old state. Yippee. I vaguely wondered if it would come back at the date that I got it as I dressed in the uniform provided.
My next course of action was to find out what day- what year, really- it was. So, I set off for the Headmaster's- or Headmistress'- office. It wasn't too hard to find, after I asked a couple of paintings and ghosts where it was. I felt that I was reasonably adapted to the things in the castle, as the books had prepared me for what was in the wizarding world.
Once I reached the stone gargoyles, I realized that I had only won a fourth of the battle. I didn't know the password, and I had no clue what to say to whoever was the Head. I suddenly heard a soft swish, as if a wand were being drawn or something. It took a while for my nervous system to catch up with my brain. I whirled around, my wand whipping out in front of me.
"Good heavens, you're not the Headmaster, are you?" My wand clattered to the ground as I took in Severus Snape for the first time. Alan Rickman did him no justice at all. He was toned, his face pale, but not unnaturally so. His face looked years younger than I had even imagined, and his face bore such pain… I looked away, feeling awkward.
"Excuse me?" He asked, his silky voice seeming to carry. I shivered, almost scared of him.
"Nothing, never mind. What's the password for the Headmaster's office?" I had deducted that since Snape was here- and apparently not Headmaster- that Dumbledore was still in control.
"Lemon Drop." He said, one eyebrow twitching upwards.
"Should've guessed." I mumbled as the gargoyle moved aside. Snape looked at me, but I didn't meet his eyes. Surprisingly, he came up with me and knocked on the huge wooden door. It opened silently, and I came face to face with Albus Dumbledore for the second time in my life.
"Ah, Severus." Dumbledore said. "Who is this?"
"I am unsure. I found her trying to enter your office and let her up." Snape said, looking at me curiously.
"Very well." Dumbledore said, motioning for me to sit down. "What is your story?"
"Story?" I asked, completely confused.
"Everyone has a story. Yours seems to be more interesting than most, given your amount of scars in comparison to your age." Dumbledore smiled at me from behind his hands.
"Ah, yes." I said, nervous. "It's kind of a private matter." I shot a look at Snape, who was standing by the door.
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked. Snape inclined his head and left.
I was quiet for several minutes, not sure where to begin. "What is the date?" I eventually asked.
"Halloween, 1982." He said, peering at me curiously. I winced; no wonder Snape looked so torn up. It was the one-year anniversary of Lily's death.
"I should probably start telling you that in…" I did some quick math in my head. "Twenty- six years, just before my nineteenth birthday, I will be killed in an automobile accident. I believe that I am about thirteen right now."
Dumbledore's eyes shot up. "Really? How extraordinary."
"Yes, isn't it? I was also a Muggle." I proceeded to tell him the basics of what had happened in the Mist Room, what I found when I arrived here, and how I knew about the wizarding world. He seemed abnormally calm about what I was telling him. It was, after all, a complete break-down of the Statute of Secrecy.
"I don't believe I've ever come across this particular case before. But, very well." Dumbledore said, startling me by clapping his hands. "What is your name?"
"Huh?" I replied dumbly.
"I need to put your name on the school's roster. You will need to catch up on you first two years of magical education, and you need to be Sorted." He explained.
"Oh." I was taken aback by this sudden whirlwind of action. "Um, Chelsea Shaw."
Dumbledore summoned the Sorting Hat from its shelf and placed it on my head.
Hmmm. It murmured into my ear. Where to put you? You are smart, but do not apply yourself. I could have taken offense to that, but it was kind of true. I would've been in all advanced classes, but I didn't want to have to try too hard in science or math. Yes, I know the place to put you; it is a good place to foster your secret. SLYTHERIN!
I heard Dumbledore applauding as I removed the hat, uncertain if I liked my placement or not.
"How am I going to catch up, sir?" i asked, giving him the Hat.
"I can teach you in everything... except Potions." He said gravely.
I groaned and put my face in my hands. "Why not you? Why Snape?"
"Professor Snape is an excellent Potions Master. I can think of nothing better to teach you the art." Dumbledore replied, stressing the 'Professor'.
"Very well." I said, sighing. "I'll need books, though."
He beamed at me. "I shall send someone to get them from Diagon Alley- you need to focus on your studies. You can borrow from the school in the mean-time."
I nodded. "What should I tell my housemates? About where I come from?" I asked as I was about to leave.
"Unless they ask, nothing. If they do, tell them that you're a pureblood from America, although 'Shaw' should protect you." He resounded, not looking up from his Pensive.
"Why?"
"Commander Shaw, from the American Civil War, was the only Squib in a long line of wizards- pureblood wizards, at that." He offered me a half- smile.
"Oh." With that, I left his office, about to start my new life.
Author's Note
Important Dates:
Sept 1 1960- S=0 (Jan 9)
Sept 1 1969- C=0 (April 10)
Sept 1 1982- C=13 (18), S=22, H= 2
Sept 1 1991- C=22 (27), S= 31, H=11