Prologue
Alright, so master fanfic writers are following me. No pressure, amiright? So, new story. Am I abandoning my other one? Hell no, it's only getting good. Now, please review, and you get hugs ! Why do I feel so happy I think I ate too much candy?
Anyway, little gray lines are NOT the real line breaks, the bold black ones are (I'm using Microsoft Word, limited options).
This little Disclaimer goes for ALL CHAPTERS, ok? I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, ONLY MY OC (who is basically a recreation of myself, so hey, lucky you, congratulations, here's your medal-).
ENJOY, MY PUPS!
LINE BREAK
Okay, so I did not expect to die. Who does, anyway, besides cryptic old dudes (lookin' at you, Dumbles)?
It was most definitely not as flashy as I would have liked. I expected glitter and Fall Out Boy songs, with a little boy being saved, and a statue later erected in my honor. But noooooo, instead it was a freaking rogue 'I'm-gonna-appear-out-of-freaking-nowhere' motorcycle, which just happened to appear in just the right place to crash into my brand spanking new Honda Crosstour.
Yeah, my day started out normal enough. Wake up at 7:50 a.m. so I could have time to get dressed, eat breakfast, and take care of other necessities, like my schnauzer, Ivy. I'd then race to the door, throw it shut before my dog could follow me, and hop into my car (which I was very proud of, thank you very much). Afterwards, I'd make my way to the Vet, which I would arrive at, at around 8:45, quite safe. Actually, that's the way it was supposed to happen.
I was halfway there, and tapping my hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, and after I'd waited the required time at the stop sign, seeing nobody coming, I had turned left. Which, of course, led to my young demise (Like dude, I was 24. So unfair).
As soon as I had turned the corner, I saw a rather rushed motorcycle, and had just a second to regret my life and not leaving a will to my dog, before I felt the motorcycle crash into the side of my poor car.
Excruciating pain. That was all I could think about, because I couldn't hear, nor see, and could only feel the pain of harsh metal digging into my side and head. I knew that I was going to die, because I knew that I had to be bleeding profusely, because oh God the pain, and suddenly I could hear again, and I could see that I was on the opposite side of the road I was originally on, and (was that my blood? There's so much of it) I could hear the cyclist panicking, he was on the phone and he was yelling on whoever was on the end of the line. I knew they would be too late, but I was still aware enough to be impressed by how fast I heard the sirens approaching, but then again, not fast enough. The sirens were the last thing I heard before I descended into darkness.
LINE BREAK
Well this is anticlimactic.
Sure, I had welcomed the darkness at first, it was far better than the previous pain I had felt. That didn't mean I had wanted to stay so long in the darkness. From what I could tell and had heard before, I should either be walking in my version of Heaven (which I had hoped would involve writing fanfiction and then seeing it being acted on the big screen, or at least infinite chicken tenders or something), or some kind of Hell (in which I'd just awkwardly follow Satan around the whole time). But from what I could tell, I could not even move, and I had been in here for months. Lord, if this is what babies feel like-
What was that? No really, what was that? It sounds like a woman screaming bloody murder, if that's true, then my Hell must be just getting started-
Where am I going? I feel like I'm freaking apparating, like I'm going through a tight tube or something, and OW, THAT HURTS LIKE A MOTHERFU-
"Congratulations, Mrs. Rosewood, it's a beautiful baby boy!"
Eh? Oh, hold the fuck up, first of all, I'm a lady, thank you very much-
That's what I would have liked to say, however, I was currently in pain and I had just recently discovered this new development (which was: Holy crap, I've just been reborn, I hope it's not in Naruto), and the only noise I could make was a scream, which, funnily enough, sounded exactly like a baby's.
Though, I couldn't be too ungrateful toward this situation. I had a new chance at life, after all, and I could start a new life without regrets! So, I wasn't too disgruntled, and I calmed down by the time I was wrapped in a blanket and placed in a woman's arms (I'm a pretty chill person, okay? Don't judge me). Based on the fact that she felt warm and familiar, I assumed she was my new mother. I was rather attached to my old one, but she seemed nice enough. Though, I wondered what she looked like...
I cracked open my eyes. Everything was pretty blurry, but I could make out the white walls of a hospital, and the blonde that must have been my mother's hair, and her tan skin, and her very warm hazel eyes. She looked exhausted, and she was covered with sweat, but she was still very pretty, and the smile that reached her eyes actually made me smile back a toothless grin, and I reached out a chubby hand toward her. She giggled and snuggled me closer, then looked up at the doctor, who I could see quite well, as my eyes were slowly adjusting. He was pretty unremarkable, with brown hair and brown eyes, and tan skin, but he looked like a nice person, based on the happily exhausted smile he wore.
He looked at my mother, "He's cute, that one. He'll be a real charmer when he grows up, Faith. But where's the father?"
My mother's smile dimmed somewhat. She looked disappointed as she spoke. "I don't know," she said softly, "I told him to come...but I should've known he wouldn't care..."
Oh no, I have a prick for a father, don't I?
The doctor sighed. "Well, he's missing out," he said, "What are you going to name him?"
My mother looked down at me. She seemed to some to a decision. "Ivy Beau Rosewood. His eyes are just like his Grandfather's."
The doctor smiled again, "It suits him," he sighed, "Such a charmer he will be..."
(Oh, he doesn't even know.)
LINE BREAK
Yeah, no father to take care of me. That's what I had concluded, anyway. I had a pretty content life with just Mom, though.
It had taken me a good while to come to terms with what had happened. It led to many sleepless nights, and constant worrying on my mom's part. Poor thing, being so nervous as a first time mother, and having to deal with a depressed baby. In the end, I decided to just process some new information.
For one thing- I was in the past. Not too long, anyway. I was born on March 15th, 1960. A little shocking, but it wasn't too bad. At least there was air conditioning.
For another thing, I was born in Louisiana (in the USA). I could tell that much by the accents, the tan skin, and the fact that I was also born there in my last life.
Another thing is that I was, indeed a boy. A rather cute one, might I add. I had caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror after I learned to walk (I learned that quick enough, being a baby was boring), and I was adorable. I can appreciate this because this, to be technical, is not my real body, just the second option. I had big, alligator green eyes, that were framed by long, dark eyelashes, tan skin, a small nose, light freckles across the bridge of my nose, and dark blonde hair with copper-ish highlights that fell with a slight wave. My features were delicate, and I actually looked pretty feminine. Like, I could be mistaken for female. Not that I minded, really, being one in my last life. I often compared my new body with my old one. I knew that I was currently just over a year old, but a lot could be told at that age, and I could see that I would be missing some things, and gaining others.
Another thing about this body was that it had high stamina. In my last life, I was quite lazy, and I'd run out of breath quickly. To my credit, though, I maintained a slim figure, too, and was certainly not lacking in the curves department. Anyways, I was actually a pretty energetic child. It led to many stressful moments for my poor mother, and I nearly gave her a heart attack the time I'd managed to climb a fairly large oak tree at five years old. I made up for it in intelligence. According to many people, I was a little genius, even though I'd tried to tone it down a lot. It had gone pretty well until I started school.
Ah, yes. School. Thy horror awaits beyond closed gaits, sire. Don't scream too loudly, or you'll awaken the principal, Smaug!
Yes, I'm being completely serious. The principal's last name was Smaug. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to look a man in the eye, and apologize to Mr. Smaug for hitting another (fairly irritating) child in the face with the Bible?
Yeah, I was definitely a problem child. Though that could be easily overlooked, because of myGEniUs. I got straight A's, straight 100's, even, in every class, because my pride would not allow me to get a problem incorrect, no matter how important it was to stay low. I was offered to skip grades, and I, to my credit, very nearly declined. Yeah, no way was I passing an opportunity to show off. It wasn't like I was going to stay in school after age 10, anyway
Because I had magic, and I was in the Harry Potter universe. It wasn't difficult to figure out, and I was quite glad I did, because I wanted to look like a know-it-all in classes. Wait, that sound wrong. I wanted to look infuriatingly unaffected under supposedly fearful situations. I was also in the Marauder timeline, and I planned on messing it up completely. I'd figured that out because once, when I was bored, around 4 years old, I was testing it out. I certainly hadn't expected anything to happen when I'd tried out the Levitating charm. I'd quickly been proven wrong when my bed had started floating. Now, I wasn't very well versed in the HP fandom anymore, but I'm pretty sure that was perfect control, and exceptionally powerful, considering how heavy a bed is. So, I'd discovered I was also a magical genius, and I would be totally using that shit to my advantage. As in, I was totally becoming an Animagus by Third year. Everything was laid out in front of me, and everything was perfect. I should've known it wouldn't last.
My luck is absolutely horrible, after all.
.LINE BREAK
It started when my biological father came home. Now, I don't know when exactly it happened, or why, but one afternoon I walked home from school to see an extremely handsome man sitting at our living room table. I looked closely at him. Same green eyes, same dark blonde hair, same wave in the hair...
Wait, scratch that. Not the same green eyes. Mine most certainly did not hold endless hatred, at least I hoped they didn't. If they did, I felt pity for Mom yet again. Of course it was only natural that when my father turned his eyes on me, their hatred only stood out more. I turned toward Mom. She seemed nervous, but in no hurry to shush him. Huh, so her own life matters more than mine. How touching.
"What is this?" He sneered, looking down at me. So, when I'm nervous, I get pretty snarky. I was definitely nervous.
"I'm an angel. Come on John, please wake up," I deadpanned, staring at him blankly. I also discovered that I could not show emotions very well, which was both a blessing and a curse.
Mystery Man (let's call him MM) snarled at me, furious. He stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over with a loud CLANG. Then MM started toward me, his hand raised. I scurried back, skittishly He instantly stopped, but his glare did not waver.
He turned toward Mother, "There's going to be some new rules around here."
The next years were not the wonder years. Though MM refrained from hitting me that day, he did not refrain from doing so later. Mother never dared go against him, and our relationship fell apart. She ignored me and I did the same. Father beat her more than me, but that didn't mean he was doing it to be kind. He just never bruised or scarred my face or hands. I only wore long shirts and pants. He had no such qualms with my mother, for she stayed home and therefore he did not have to worry about anybody seeing. I practiced my magic in secret, and got physically exercised. By the time I was 10, I was short (slight malnourishment, I was actually naturally short), but lean, with slight muscles, mostly in my legs. I somehow had maintained a healthy tan, and still had my feminine looks, though I looked a lot less like a girl. I had pale scars, mostly on my arms and collarbone/chest. I had taken to staying on the streets until evening, as that definitely cut down on the scars and bruises. Less time with the old man, less scars. I had also taken to wearing dark gray jeans, dark purple converse, a black wife beater, and a choker around my neck (some things never change), with a purple jacket tied around my waist. As long as Father never saw my short sleeves, I was fine (that dude had me whipped.)
Oh, and two days after my 10th birthday, I first met Sirius Black.
LINE BREAK
This took way too much time, but I hope it was worth it, pups. If you want to make a request for his Animagus form, tell me in a review (*wink wink* *nudge nudge*).
EDIT: I totally rushed this shit, but I wanted to make it simple.
Adios, I'm tired as Hell, love you guys!
