Author's Note: Welcome back to chapter 9 everyone! I'm very excited to share this chapter, as it contains quite a few important revelations. I also want to thank my lovely lovely reviewers again for letting me know how they experience the story. TheMushroomGuild, Ghostwriter71, and LeahLovesPotter, you rock! In response to Leah's question regarding writer's block, I've listed some of my "writing methods" below. I hope they are at least somewhat useful! For all the rest of you, enjoy the chapter!

Tips for writing:

Before I share my tips, I should note that I try to write ahead of my posting schedule, to avoid that there is a deadline for a specific chapter to be written. I find this helps my creative process and to write only when I am inspired rather than feeling like I need to turn out something - anything - just to meet my deadline.

1. Write out a rough draft. Usually, I have some idea of where I want the story to go, even when I don't know yet what needs to happen right now. It then helps me to write down the end goal and from there, just think about what needs to happen in between. By writing down these "handholds", I can then better focus my imagination on what would or needs to happen between the moment I am now at and the moment I want to go to.

2. Allow yourself time for free fantasizing. I also think it's helpful to realise that I don't need to write down everything immediately and that it can in fact be super helpful to really take time just fantasizing about your story and characters. What could happen? What does a situation look like? What kind of things might the characters say? I do this when I'm in the shower, before going to sleep, or just at random moments when I'm alone and can talk to myself out loud. It helps me to get a better feeling of the story to just play out scenes - sometimes multiple times - and adjust them if I feel they are not truthful to who I imagine the characters to be. It's only after I do this that I write out these scenes - and sometimes tweak them again.*

3. Work on what works. It can be super annoying when you are at a point in your story where you feel stuck; you are unsure how to move forward and it can be very tempting to just bite down on that moment and keep wrestling with it. However, I often find it more useful (for my productivity but also my mental health) to refocus my attention. What do I know that I want to happen in the story? Maybe I can think about that moment, fill in that scene and imagine the details clearly in my mind or on paper. Often times, just working on that will get your creative juices flowing again, or it can just help to create new handholds that you can use to work back towards the present from.

4. Read and reread. When you are working like a relatively long story like this one, sometimes it really helps me to just go back and reread some of my story. It may sound silly but sometimes I forget some of what has happened before, or just lose the essence or tone of the story. Rereading it can help revive your own investment in the story as well as give you new ideas. For instance, rereading a particular scene in the present story reminded me that I had left a loose end somewhere, which I could then nicely tie up in a future scene.

*Note that I usually do this for major scenes. For minor ones (like knowing that my character needs to go from place A to B and having to describe the "inbetween") I usually just write them once I'm writing down one major scene and then can immediately link them to the next.

I hope these tips are useful to you and wish you all the best of luck (and fun!) writing!

August 10, 1996
London

She found Draco seated on his bed, wand out and a Hogwarts textbook open in front of him. After initially looking up at her entrance, he returned his attention to the text.

A moment of silence followed, and Sophie forced herself not to turn tail. 'Will you be able to go back? To Hogwarts I mean.'

His grey eyes flickered up for a moment, seemingly involuntarily, 'I am not sure.'

'Oh… Well, that sucks.'

He sighed, this time training his steely gaze on her for a bit longer to convey his annoyance with her, 'Was there any particular reason for why you are here?'

The tone of his voice made her want to shrivel up inside, or at least to crawl back into bed and never come out anymore. Instead, she took a deep breathe, 'Yes there was. And I need you to hear me out.'

He stared at her for a long moment, then with a sarcastic flourish of his free hand, waved for her to sit on the opposite bed. While she knew it had hardly been a real invitation, Sophie felt she might need to be seated for this conversation, and dropped down with a sigh.

'Alright, so… I guess you must have wondered how I knew… well many things.' She wasn't sure what she'd hoped that he would say, but at least she had hoped that he would say something. Now, after another long, uncomfortable silence, she swallowed, realising he would not hand her anything. 'What I'm about to tell you, I've only ever told one person – and they are not here to talk anymore. To explain everything in a way that will not make you think me mad – which you might still – I will have to go back to the very beginning. Or to be completely correct, go forward to the beginning.

'I was born in the year of 2002 in the town of Warrington near Blackpool. I had a Mom and a Dad, though I now have trouble remembering their faces and voices. However, all of this is not so important – at least not for you – as is the fact that I was an avid reader, mainly of fantasy books. And my favourite book series was by a lady named Joanne Rowling, who wrote seven books about a young wizard named Harry Potter, and his fight against the dark wizard Voldemort.'

She paused for a moment, taking a moment to gauge Draco's expression but finding it had changed little. She wasn't quite sure whether that was a good thing. 'If you don't think me mad at this point, you probably will soon.

'My life passed pretty ordinarily, until my eighteenth birthday. On my eighteenth birthday, as I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, I wished – like I had so many times before – to be part of the magical universe I had read about in my books. And when I woke up the next morning, I woke up in the middle of a small field, in the body of an eight year-old.

'As far as I understand it, eight year-old Sophie Cornwell was an existing girl before I took over her body. I got her body, her parents, her life – but all else was still me. I wasn't sure why I was tossed into this new life, at the time wasn't even aware that it was tied in with my birthday wish. That is, until I met you.'

By this point, Sophie had started to talk to her feet, finding it impossible to face the boy who was seated across from her. So far, everything she had said made her seem like a loony – someone who was completely out of their mind, but who was harmless apart from that. Now, however, that might all change.

'I initially just came to the forest because I wanted to get away from the annoying children of the village. When I found the Manor, I was simply fascinated by the building. Even when I first met you, despite the feeling of familiarity, I thought you were just a snotty, arrogant little boy.

'And then I realised who you were. Draco Malfoy. Childhood nemesis of Harry Potter, son of a Death Eater. "The boy who had no choice".'

'So all that you knew… you knew because it was in some book series you read?'

'Yes.'

'And you befriended me because I was a character.'

'I did, but…-'

'So you lied to me.'

'No! Look, I did befriend you because you were Draco Malfoy from the books. And perhaps that was wrong, but I wanted to help you! And when I got to know you better, I wanted to remain friends because of you! I wanted to be sorted into Slytherin because of you!

'I helped your mother and you because you were my friend.'

'Did you ever consider that whatever you considered "helping", I didn't ask for it?' He sneered. 'If your "help" is what forced me to abandon my house, my own life and get stuck in this pathetic excuse for a home with the people I hate most in the entire world, I would rather you had not bothered.'

His words brought back flashes of memories. Seeing Draco in his sixth year, looking sickly and old and so very very tired. Seeing him bleeding out on the bathroom floor. Seeing him pale and shaking with fear as he kept his wand trained on his headmaster. When Sophie spoke at last, her voice trembled with suppressed pain, 'You can't mean that.'

'You had no right to interfere.' He stood, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. 'I was wrong to come to you. To trust you.'

'No, Draco, please…'

'Get out of my room.'

Under the icy coldness of his gaze, all she could do was nod, forcing back the tears until she was in the hallway. There she fell apart.

August 12, 1996
London

Sophie did not leave her bedroom the next day, with the exception of the occasional bathroom break and mid-night trip to the kitchen when her hunger became too great. Fortunately, either due to some divine insight on the side of the other girls or due to their still rocky relationship, Ginny and Hermione left her mostly to her own devices. They came up to gently ask her if she wanted to come down for lunch and, after being told to bugger off, left it at that.

Throughout the nights and day, sadness, guilt, and anger battled for the overhand. She had hoped that by telling Draco before the others, she would be able to mend some of the broken trust. Instead, she had managed to obliterate whatever was left of their friendship in one conversation. Part of her wanted to go back up and scream at him, tell him she was right and he was wrong, tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about when he said he wished she hadn't interfered.

But that was entirely the crux of the matter; he didn't know anything, none of them did, apart from that which she had told them. She was the only authority, the only one with the power to change things. But should she not have?

For years, she had done just that. Stand by and do nothing. For years she had felt it to be the right thing to do. Or had she simply felt it the easy thing to do?

And even if she was right in interfering, did that make Draco wrong for hating her for it? Like she had admitted to herself, he didn't know any better. So was it fair of her to blame him for anger born out of ignorance?

These questions continued to plague Sophie throughout the nights and into the second morning, until all that was left for her to do was grieve over her lost friendship. In a sea of mixed emotions and conflicting thoughts, the only thing she was sure of was that she regretted its end. And that she missed Draco.

A knock on the door broke her out of her reverie. Ginny and Hermione had left for breakfast what felt like hours ago. Maybe they came to make another attempt at getting her out of the room for lunch.
The door opened just as Sophie considered telling them to sod off. Her. It was only Ginny.

'I don't want any food,' Sophie said, in a voice that was only a little bit more polite than just outright telling Ginny to bugger off.

''I'm not here to offer it,' Ginny scoffed, then shrugged, 'I'm just here to tell you professor Dumbledore is downstairs and has asked for you.'

Sophie had half a mind to tell the other girl that she didn't want to talk to Dumbledore, either, but before she could find a way to tell her that, Ginny continued.

'Look, I'm not going to tell you what you can or cannot do, but I should warn you that if you don't come down, there is a chance Dumbledore will just come up to talk to you in your pyjamas.'

Sophie pulled a face at that, then sighed. 'Fine, I'll be downstairs in ten minutes.'

-xxx-

When Sophie stood before the dining room door, dressed, teeth brushed and hair put in a tight bun – hoping that that would hide it being on the wrong side of shiny – she started to think that maybe the chance of Dumbledore actually coming up to her room was rather slim. Then again, she was here now, so she might as well hear what he wanted to discuss.

'Come on in, Sophie, no need to knock,' she heard him call, and mentally kicked herself for dallying in front of the door before going in.

'You wanted to talk to me, professor?' she asked, although the answer was of course evident. Still, she was in no mood to lead the conversation today, so if he wanted more information he would have to be specific.

'If I could have another precious moment of your time,' he agreed, unassumingly, and she would have almost believed he wasn't aware of the fact that she had been spending the past 36 hours in bed, were it not for the fact that there was that twinkling in his eyes. 'Tea?'

She nodded, taking a seat across from him.

'As you may have already heard, your knowledge of the Horcuxes has been shared with the other Order members and we have started our search, very carefully of course, for the objects less well protected. The diary, the Gaunt ring, and Slytherin's locket are now in our possession and have been destroyed in the manner you prescribed. Remus and Tonks are spending their every free moment in the Room of Requirement and it is my hope that they will manage to find Rowena's diadem before the students return in September.'

'And then there's just three more to go.'

'Yes, although I suspect acquiring them will be far more difficult than even the protections you described that guarded the Slytherin locket. Two of them cannot be acquired without Voldemort being aware they are missing. The third…'

A silence fell as both contemplated the final and perhaps most tricky Horcux of all: Harry Potter. Finally, after what like an eternity, Sophie found the courage to voice the next logical question. 'Does he know?'

'Not yet, but I fear that he must, before the end of the next schoolyear. Once we have found and destroyed the diadem, we must go after Helga Hufflepuff's cup and then Voldemort's snake. When he catches on to what we are doing, there is no doubt he will retaliate. We may force his hand, but I have no doubt Voldemort will still assemble a mighty and fearsome army.'

'So it will end in war, professor? Even after all I did to stop what I knew would happen from happening, it will still come to war?'

'Yes, though if all goes well Tom Riddle should enter this war a mortal man. And it will not be for some time. Not before… Harry must figure it out for himself.'

'How do you expect him to do that?'

'By continuing on as I had planned to, before meeting you. Professor Slughorn will be joining our staff this year and… Well I suppose I don't need to explain it to you.'

She nodded.

'Whatever happens now, I daresay it would have happened no matter what you had done. So as you can see, it is all quite planned. That is, with the exception of two things, which is why I wanted to talk to you. One of them being the young Mr Draco Malfoy.

'Snape has informed me that Draco and his mother, for all intents and purposes, are now considered dead. Non-surprisingly, Voldemort prefers having his followers believe he kills disloyal followers than that he failed to track them. Which leaves us with the question of where to put the real Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.'

Another silence followed, but this time Sophie felt no inclination to fill it. She could almost hear the unspoken suggestion, but she refused to voice it herself. After a silence that stretched on just a bit too long, and in which Sophie studiously avoided Dumbledore's penetrating gaze, he continued.

'I have considered allowing him to return to Hogwarts now that he is no longer a risk to my personal health. However, I fear it would not be in his best interest, though he may not agree with that assessment at the present. As it is, with his presumed status of recently deceased, Draco Malfoy will be a target of only the few who Voldemort trusted with the truth. However, I am not ignorant to the parentage of some of his House members…'

'You fear retaliation?'

'On him, or his parents.'

'Then why not just allow them to stay here? It's not like they are in anyone's way here.'

Again she was aware of the elder man's heavy gaze, but she forced a sip of tea down her constricted throat.

His gaze at last softened, and he offered her a kind smile. 'I suppose they are not,' he conceded. 'Which brings me to the other matter. What will you do?'

She had known this question had been coming – had known it from the very first moment that she decided to tell professor Dumbledore of her knowledge of the future. For a long time, she had struggled with herself, head and heart ever wrestling. Ever since her conversation with Draco, however, the answer had becoming startingly clear. 'I have told you all I know – as you said, whatever happens now happens. So I think it is time for me to go home, back to my own life.'

'If that is what you want.'

'It is, professor.'

August 12, 1996
London

After professor Dumbledore left, Sophie took to wandering somewhat aimlessly through the house with a left-over slice of toast she found in the kitchen. Her initial plan to go out to find a phone booth to inform her mother of her early return that evening was abandoned when she remembered that she could not return to Grimmauld Place by herself – and her being on non-speaking terms with the only person who knew this.

She spent some time up in Regulus' room, but found little of interest and eventually only left with a greater feeling of emptiness. Now that the decision to go home was made, the fact that she did not belong here was suddenly glaringly obvious – and she wondered how the others had failed to notice for so long. It didn't matter, though. Tonight she would leave after dinner – and when she did, she wanted there to be no more illusions as to who she was.

-xxx-

That night saw another one of Molly Weasley's famous culinary master pieces – but Sophie found that by the time dessert was placed on the table, she was too nervous to bring a single spoonful of custard tart to her lips. In fact, she was so absorbed by her thoughts of what was to come that she was completely unaware of what happened around her – until Mrs Weasley called her name and she came to the sudden realisation that dessert had been cleared off the table and everyone was looking at her.

'You packed your things, didn't you, Sophie?'

She nodded dazedly, finding that not only was the table now emptied of food, Arthur Weasley had also somehow appeared in the room – and she distantly remembered something about professor Dumbledore saying he would be the one to Apparate her home.

Mr Weasley waved his wand, summoning her luggage, and offered her a kind smile. 'Are you ready to go?'

'I…' she suddenly found her mouth go dry, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on her. Even Narcissa Malfoy, who she knew would never be caught dead staring, was observing her from the corner of her eyes. The only person who pretended not to be aware of the sudden tension was Draco, but that somehow just made her feel even worse. 'There's something I need to say before we go, if that is alright, Mr Weasley?' At his nod, she pressed on, avoiding looking at any particular pair of eyes. 'The thing is, I haven't been entirely truthful to you all. Or rather, I didn't lie so much as not being forward with the truth. Because the truth is… I don't go to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. I go to King Edward's school in Bath, where I also live with my Muggle parents. I am a Muggle.' Silence followed her words, and she gazed down at her hands.

'I am sorry for pretending to be someone I was not. I should have told you from the beginning.'

'Bloody right you should have!' Ron at last exclaimed, breaking the silence that had hung over the table ever since her admission. While not the reaction she had hoped for, it was at least better than the look of silent hurt she saw on Hermione's face and the narrowed eyes on both Harry and Ginny's.

'Language, Ronald!' Molly scolded, although even that seemed a bit half-hearted.

Sophie pushed back her chair, making her way over to the doorway where Mr Weasley stood with her duffle bag and backpack. Forcing a last smile, she said, 'Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Mrs Weasley, and the hospitality in general. It was great meeting you all. Good luck with… school and stuff.' She zipped up her hoodie against the cooling evening air, then nodded, 'I'm ready to go now, Mr Weasley.'