Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way. Everything belongs to the amazing J. K. Rowling. I'm just having fun, really.
A/N: So... my first fanfiction. Well, the first I deemed good enough for posting anyway, there are others that probably won't ever see the light of the day- but I really wanted to try myself at creating a believable OC for a long time now. I hope I managed. So, enough from my side, enjoy!
Chapter 1
She was never one to believe in Fate. While Fate gives purpose, an explanation to seemingly pointless events, it also implies that one's actions are predetermined. For how can even a single fated event happen without influencing the people involved? It shifts responsibilities, distorts the causality between actions and consequences, making apparent choices inevitable in the face of a bigger picture.
The belief in Fate cripples, excusing perpetrators and keeping victims inactive. A fated crime is still a crime; fated misery feels no better than misery.
So it isn't as much not believing in Fate as it is not believing in the belief in Fate.
Maybe it was Fate she was reborn where she was, with the knowledge she kept, maybe it wasn't. It did not matter.
If it was Fate, she would act accordingly whether she tried to or not.
She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she regained consciousness. It was a blur of waking and sleeping, new impressions and old memories, almost self-awareness and mindless drifting. Everything felt strangely natural, instinctual.
At first, she didn't think of herself as an adult in an infant's body. She felt, looked and was treated like an infant, so why shouldn't she be one? It wasn't like she could keep herself from crying when she was lonely or hungry, nor had she any desire to.
It felt nice being doted on, being the center of attention.
Though growing older, she realized those were merely excuses. Simply the fact that she was thinking about how to act, being able not to terrorize her well-meaning parents triggered her guilty conscience.
So she swallowed her irrational desire to cling to her mother when she was given to an elderly woman for daycare the first time. She decided against screaming for her parents when her sister stole her favorite stuffed animal… it was a strange looking, ugly birdlike beast she couldn't identify, one of the many strange things in her new home. She was a little angel, all curly blond hair and curious blue eyes, watching the world with silent fascination and seemingly childish naivety.
She wasn't above using her innocent impression to gain acceptance and leniency.
It wasn't all deliberate calculation though, at least the fascination was quite real. She was surrounded by… unusual occurrences. The morning she managed to get out of her crib by herself the first time -she didn't remember how, but she desperately tried and somehow managed- she realized she couldn't find a light switch. Further inspection revealed a lack of light bulbs, and she hadn't noticed a single wire in the entire house.
The same evening, she watched her mother flick something long and thin she kept in her pocket before the lights went out. A remote control?
When a person stepped out of the fireplace a few days later -it seemed to be her second birthday, considering the gigantic cake with pink icing and two candles her mother put in front of her with a beaming smile- she realized she must have been deliberately overlooking things.
The magic was everywhere.
The dishes cleaned themselves, her rubber ball changed color every few minutes, her clothes fit her for months no matter how fast she grew. Her doll spoke and answered, almost as if she was alive, and when her parents' chess pieces started screaming at each other every last doubt was gone.
In retrospect it was obvious, but in reality it took her years to connect the signs. Magic, wizards wearing robes, yearly celebrations on Halloween. Even her name, Alice Turpin.
Alice received the final piece of information on her seventh birthday, the 31st of August 1988. Smiling, laughing happily with her older sister Lisa about the singing rubber duck she had received from her uncle, she turned to her next present. It was neatly wrapped in green paper with colorful butterflies. Judging by the way her sister's eyes lit up when she shifted her attention towards it, she didn't have to guess whom it was from.
"Oh, I know you will love it!" Her blue eyes were practically glowing as Lisa spoke, burning with admiration. Oblivious to her sister's puzzled expression- Alice had rarely seen Lisa so passionate about anything- she continued gushing, the adults watching them with amusement.
"My friend Susan showed me the books, they're so exciting! Especially because they really happened, can you believe it? And did you know that he will be in my year? Maybe we'll be best friends and he'll tell me about all of his adventures…" Growing more and more confused the longer Lisa chattered on, Alice carefully started removing the wrapping paper, mindful of the butterflies. Her heart almost stopped.
The cover showed a black haired child on a giant red dragon, pointing a sparkling sword victoriously ahead. Harry Potter and the Salvation of the Unicorns.
She really should have seen it coming.
She started reading the same evening, contempt for the author growing with every page she turned. It was ridiculous. How could anyone believe that an eight-year-old child tamed a dragon to defeat an evil coven of vampires who wanted to slaughter a family of unicorns? Even if she hadn't known that Harry Potter lived under his relatives' questionable care in Little Whinging, she would have been more than skeptical.
She kept her silence anyway.
Was there a reason she knew what was to come? She had doubted her knowledge for years, told herself that there was no proof anything would happen the way she remembered, not in the tiny part of the wizarding world that was her childhood. Apart from her sister, Susan and Hannah, she didn't meet anyone she recognized until her first visit to Diagon Alley. Still, even the friendly Tom in the Leaky Cauldron or Fortescue's amazing ice cream weren't enough to draw her out of her desperate denial. Ollivanders almost made her want to hide under a pillow and never show herself again.
The final straw was a letter she received from her sister two days after Halloween. Though almost two years apart, Lisa was only a year ahead in Hogwarts due to her birthday in September. Ten-year-old Alice anxiously took the parchment from Sir Hoot, the former family owl, now her sister's companion.
She was already hiding in her room before the slowly descending letter hit the floor.
One would think she would be overjoyed, a chance to live her favorite book. Meet the characters, feel the magic, even influence the plot. But all she felt was blank fear. With the troll, there was no room for doubts whether or not Voldemort was alive, it was only a matter of years before the war began. There wasn't any mention of her family, would they survive? They could be part of the countless names of victims, glossed over in favor of recounting the Golden Trio's heroic deeds.
Her first thought was running away. She was a little girl, no hero. As far as she knew, nobody in her family contributed anything important during the war. The Turpins were a middle class pureblood family, known only for their excellent lawyers and neutrality in confrontations.
But she knew her parents would never move. They had grown up in Britain, had British connections and British friends. As far as they knew, they had no reason to leave and nobody would believe Alice even if she were to share her fears.
She felt trapped for weeks. She wanted to rush to Hogwarts and hide her sister away, away from the monster she knew was her teacher. Sweet, clueless Lisa. Her parents assured her day after day that she didn't have to worry, that the troll was a onetime incident and Lisa was safe. They were clueless as well, like everyone else.
By the time Lisa visited for Christmas Alice had managed to banish any worries to the deepest corner of her mind. The sisters carelessly chased chocolate frogs through the kitchens and Lisa proudly demonstrated her charms project, a beautiful glass orb with an animated goldfish inside, while her parents congratulated her on her impressive school work.
It was blissful happiness, sitting between her parents in the living room with her Uncle telling outrageous stories about Hogwarts. Her sister listened with shining eyes, and for the first time in two months, Alice truly looked forward to her time at Hogwarts.
"Ohh damn cat, couldn't you have chosen a more peaceful pet?"
"Lisa have you seen my new quill?"
"I don't care where your shiny new present is, your stupid cat just almost ate my potions homework!"
"Sir Meow would never…"
"Hurry up children, the train won't wait for you!"
It was September first again, finally time for Alice to take the trip to Hogwarts for her first year. Despite herself, she was nervous. Would somebody find out, see her for what she was, what she knew? She had never made any noble vow not to use her memories, her inactivity merely stemming from indecisiveness and the numb fear of being declared delusional. So here she stood, hiding her secret anxiety behind the everyday worry of leaving home for an unknown location.
Lisa and Alice arrived in front of the door at the same time, both carrying heavy trunks, Lisa glaring at the black cat her sister was carrying. Their mother seemed far too preoccupied to notice the impending argument, or Alice's poorly hidden dread.
"There you are," she said absently, meanwhile casting a feather-light charm on her daughters' trunks. "Be glad we decided to go by apparition, we'd never arrive on time otherwise."
The platform was already crowded by the time they finally arrived. Lisa immediately hugged her parents good-bye before quickly disappearing to find her friends, a clear sign for Alice to stay away if she'd ever seen one. Alice shook her head. She had never been the clingy type, so there was little chance she would start now. She turned to say her own farewells, only to see unshed tears shimmering in her mother's eyes, her father standing stoically beside her. Suddenly she was engulfed in a crushing hug.
"My little girl, leaving me all alone!" Alice smiled as she wrapped her arms around her mother. She really loved her family.
When Alice finally boarded the train, there weren't any empty compartments left. She briefly considered looking for Lisa despite the earlier dismissal but figured she shouldn't play the annoying little sister before they even arrived at Hogwarts. She passed several gatherings of older students, until she finally found a compartment with three other first years she felt comfortable enough to join.
They were deep in conversation as she entered. She groaned the moment she realized they were discussing the sorting ceremony.
"I know I'll be in Slytherin. My family has been sorted there for generations!" Alice examined the boasting boy. He had black hair, styled in a way that screamed early rising for careful grooming. Together with his refined pureblooded features and snobby expression she was instantly convinced of his colossal ego.
Greeting the group, she let herself fall next to a shyly smiling girl who didn't look too eager to participate in the argument. She didn't have to. The first-year across from her seemed to practically burst with excitement and immediately started chattering.
"I really hope I'll be sorted in Gryffindor!" he grinned, hopping up and down on his seat. "That would be so cool! I mean, I only found out about magic a few months ago and I read about Harry Potter and he seems totally awesome. Is it true that he singlehandedly defeated a troll in his first year? He must be the coolest wizard ever!"
The black haired boy looked at him disdainfully. Uh Oh. "And you are?"
"I'm sorry, I'm Colin Creevey. Nice to meet you." The oblivious first year hopefully offered his hand, looking up in heartbreaking sincerity. It was no use though. The arrogant ponce cast it one disgusted glance before abruptly standing up, sneering.
"I wouldn't have chosen this compartment, if I had known there was mudblood filth in here." With that, he spun around and left the compartment.
Colin looked puzzled. "What was he talking about?"
Alice smiled uncomfortably. "He was just being rude." Sighing, she looked out of the window, watching the scenery rush by. The wonderful world of Harry Potter.
"Addison, Juliet!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the great hall, and a blonde witch with a stoic expression walked towards the Sorting Hat.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Alice saw her sister sitting among the applauding students and smiled. It would be nice to be in the same house as Lisa, she really missed their closeness.
Her gaze wandered towards her fellow first years. She recognized a blond haired girl with large eyes and a dreamy expression as Luna Lovegood and the only redhead as Ginny Weasley. Most of the others were unfamiliar.
Watching Colin skip towards the Gryffindor Table, Alice tried to identify more people she remembered. The Weasley Twins were the most obvious, next to a dark skinned boy who could only be Lee Jordan. Across from them sat a bushy haired girl who kept glancing anxiously towards the entrance.
Ah. Harry and Ron probably just crashed into the Whomping Willow.
It took an eternity until Alice's name was finally called. The group around her continued thinning out, until only Ginny, Alice, and a heavily trembling boy were left.
"Turpin, Alice!"
Before she knew it, a very large hat was blocking her view of the curious audience. She waited with bated breath for a whisper, for the voice she knew, no hoped would speak in her head.
Nothing.
Was it broken? Sitting there, staring at the worn fabric of the most famous hat in wizarding history, Alice felt hollow disappointment. She had expected an evaluation of character, being confronted with her deepest worries and unknown mistakes, a chance to better herself-
"-not so fast, young lady. It only took me a little moment to… adjust. Your head is quite difficult to read."
Relief and excitement quickly turned into confusion. Was there something wrong with her brain?
"Unpleasant… quite unpleasant…"
There was something wrong with her brain.
"I wasn't talking about you, dearie. It's just the possibility of being almost burned in the near future that didn't sit well with me. Not that it matters now, for your sorting I mean. Hmm… what to do, what to do."
Being burned… was he talking about the final battle? Had he learned every single thing she knew in… what? Thirty seconds?
"How else am I to sort you? No Ravenclaw material here, I guess."
Ouch, that stung. Especially said in that condescending voice of his… she wasn't stupid.
"Could have fooled me. So much knowledge, so much potential… well, everyone his own, I guess. A Slytherin would kill for this kind of blackmail material… and Gryffindor… just no."
His mutterings were met with growing annoyance from Alice's side. Couldn't the hat be a bit more straightforward?
"I'm not all Gryffindor, am I?" She could practically hear the smirk behind the words.
"So, back to your house. There's only one place to put you, really. We'll see how you fair in HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table on the left immediately started clapping, and Alice disgruntledly joined her new house. She tried not to let it show too much, it wasn't the actual sorting that bothered her.
However, the few words the hat had said about her weren't exactly flattering.
Her mood continually worsened the longer the feast went on. She couldn't bear listening to the Headmaster, listening to the speech she had read so many times. The consistency was unnerving and reminded her of the many things that would remain identical as well. Didn't anyone see the creepiness in Lockhart's award winning smile? Had Ginny always seemed so pale, eager to just leave the feast for the safety of her dorm? Did Malfoy have to sit between the two primitive apes that could only be Crabbe and Goyle? Did Dumbledore's robes have to look like several children had picked the patterns and combined them- without comparing- beforehand?
The absence of Severus Snape was a crushing relief, until she remembered that this too was canon, as he was busy handing out detentions to two infamous second years.
She wanted to scream, shout out everything she knew, change everything, anything simply to escape the prison of knowing, the irrational feeling of responsibility. She didn't. She wasn't a Gryffindor, after all.
"You alright?" Alice jumped at the voice addressing her. For a split second, she contemplated not reacting, pretending to be an uninvolved witness, unseen and unhurt. The sincere kindness made her turn though, and she gave her fellow first-year a small smile.
"Quite well," Alice smiled a bit wider for the effect, hoping desperately that it fooled the other witch. "I'm Alice Turpin. I really hope we will get along well."
"We aren't Hufflepuffs for nothing, are we?" A small laugh, then: "I'm Naomi, Naomi Kimura." Her name fit her appearance perfectly, straight black hair and obvious Asian ancestry. They started a light conversation, small talk about family and friends. When others started joining in, Alice leaned back and observed her future classmates in silence, thankful for the welcome distraction.
As she listened to the steady breathing of three of her roommates and the faint crying of the fourth, Alice reflected on her evening. The Hufflepuff common room was beautiful, its homeliness engulfing the hyper students in a way that could only be magic. One moment in a plush like armchair soothed all her worries, relieving her in a way only her mother's heartfelt hugs could compare to.
Hufflepuff wasn't like the other houses, collecting those with natural talent to bring prestige to the name of the respective founder. Unlike her friends, Helga Hufflepuff had been completely selfless, her mind on giving her students a peaceful home, giving lost children the love they needed. Giving instead of receiving. The world needed more people like that exceptional witch.
That was why, as the sobbing of poor Elizabeth grew in insistence, Alice hesistantly made her way over to the distraught girl's bed. Slipping under the soft sheet, Alice engulfed her in a comforting hug, lightly humming a lullaby she remembered from her first childhood. The witch was muggleborn and had been thrown into a completely new world at barely eleven years old. It was no wonder she felt lost the way she did.
When the crying eventually died down, the two girls finally slipped away into the peaceful realm of dreams.
She would have loved to live carefree like her classmates, her biggest fear Professor Snape's disapproving gaze, his intimidating glare and hurtful words that had already reduced several of her classmates to a puddle of tears. She would have loved the surprise of McGonagall the cat turning into their teacher, a secret guarded by parents and siblings alike. Maybe she could have been one of the numerous Lockhart fangirls, sighing and giggling throughout his entire lessons and deliberately ignorant of his general ineptitude.
She cursed her knowledge every time she passed Myrtle's bathroom, every class she shared with the withdrawn Ginny Weasley and every glance she caught of the famous Lightning Bolt Scar, a red contrast to pale skin, seeming fresher and fresher every day.
She had to act, for her conscience destroyed her.
It started with a faint idea, a small curiosity in the light of an innocent appearing book. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first years shared Transfiguration and it so happened that Ginny Weasley chose the seat next to Alice, her slightly opened bag placed between them. Brown leather in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she couldn't tear her gaze away. That was a Horcrux? A worn out diary mixing beautifully with the hand-me-down schoolbooks of the youngest Weasley. It must hold true sentimental value she would never have expected from a psychopath like Tom Riddle, if it compared to priceless artifacts like Ravenclaw's diadem or Slytherin's locket.
On second thought, the value of the Founders' artifacts was mostly due to emotional attachments as well, so maybe the diary fit in better than it seemed.
To think, that Ginny carried a person in her book bag. For he was a person, despite his self-induced predicament with having a non-living object as a body. He was self-aware, thinking, plotting. A trapped mind that was going to terrorize the school before being killed by the boy-who-lived at the end of the year if she did not interfere.
If… Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn't the only one plotting anymore.