one: the awakening of stella lovegood

I distinctly remember having a penis at one point.

I'm not even ashamed to admit that it was my first thought upon waking up and opening my eyes. My second thought was, naturally, "where the hell am I?" followed very closely by "what the fuck happened to my body?" There was a mildly disturbing feeling between my legs that I was too tired to understand, having literally just woken up, but the familiar presence between my legs didn't seem to be there. I felt lighter, somehow, but also awkward, as if my body was suddenly far smaller than I remembered.

And then the memories hit, and my body was struck with a strange sense of disconnected paralysis. I could feel my breath coming out in short pants, my vision seemed to coalesce into a tunnel, and there was a high-pitched squealing noise coming from somewhere, but my mind floated in a disorienting haze.

I could see vaguely human-shaped blobs out of the corner of my eye, and as they got closer, I realized vaguely that the high-pitched squealing was actually just me screaming.

Huh. Fancy that.

As awareness crashed into me, I started thrashing and flailing along my bedsheets, quickly getting entangled in them. As expected, the constricting feeling only caused me to thrash even harder, trying to rip my bedsheets and failing miserably. A hand reached for my neck and loosened the bedsheets, but I kept struggling until I felt like I was being lifted up.

The soft tones of the human-shaped blob carrying me became increasingly desperate as I continued to cry. I was startled, overwhelmed, terrified, and finally aware of my status as a goddamn infant, of course I'm going to cry. I felt something enter my mouth and my instant infant reflex was to suck at it. Liquid entered my mouth and I spit it out and continued to cry.

I finally realized that the mildly disturbing thing between my legs was actually just my diaper being full. If I could have communicated that to the blobs I vaguely assumed were my parents, I absolutely would have, but as an infant I had nowhere near the control necessary to do so. They eventually cottoned on to the fact that my ass was covered in filth, and finally changed my diaper. As I looked up at the ceiling, I saw a glimpse of a head of hair in a silhouette; out of curiosity, I tried to grab at it. My arms didn't go very far.

As they wiped my ass clean, the realization that my penis was gone finally sank in, and I screamed again—this time, though, I got a grip on the noise before it got too overbearing.

I was slowly lowered, and I squirmed around, lamenting the loss of body heat and warm skin-to-skin contact, before I could feel a soft lump slap my mouth. I looked down and saw another baby blinking and yawning.

As I stared at this other infant, I could see what looked like bulging silver eyes staring back at me. I slapped her (I couldn't actually tell at the time what the gender of the infant was, but that doesn't matter) in the mouth in retaliation, and the other infant started to cry. I didn't want our clearly-overstressed parents to worry, though, so before her sniffles got louder, I toddled (well, wiggled) my way towards her and tried my best to rub her mouth, hoping that she would get the hint to be quieter. I could feel her mouth move across my hand and I babbled the most soothing noises I could, and eventually the sniffling gave way to sounds of curiosity. She slapped my hand together between her hands, and while I was annoyed at this, her excited babbling made me giggle and I tumbled into a heap next to her.

While I didn't quite realize it at the time, I'm the younger twin sister of Luna freaking Lovegood.

Oh boy.

I passed the time between infancy and childhood doing various mental exercises, primarily to keep my memory intact, but also to gauge the physical and mental fitness of this new body. For a few months, I was focused on relearning the ability to speak, and then shortly after mastering it I realized that it would have seemed suspicious to somehow burst out babbles of Shakespearean sonnets (of which I deeply regretted not memorizing), so I waited for my sister and followed her progression. Even though our parents kept encouraging us to both speak, I adamantly refused to speak before Luna did. I paced myself to match Luna's progression, albeit a little better, and our parents seemed pleased regardless.

Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood (and geez, weren't those mouthfuls to say?) were very proud, but very exhausted parents of twin daughters.

I was adamant to have one thing from my previous life, and given the family I was born in, I knew there wasn't much of a chance of being a basketball player. Luna, as I recalled, did artistic works on her bedroom walls in the story, and I didn't want to take that from her. (I couldn't remember if she was actually any good at it, but I figured that it didn't really matter, since I wasn't, either.) With the chance of being a software developer equally shunted (although that was definitely something I wanted to look into, if the muggle world developed the same as it would in the future I lived), I knew there was really only one thing for me to do: somehow acquire a musical instrument.

Conveniently, my mother and I walked along London one day to pick up ingredients from Diagon Alley for a potion she was designing, and I managed to pick out a street performer busking with a guitar. I tugged insistently at her sleeve. She looked at me, and I pointed to the guitar. She looked at the guitar, back to me, then back to the guitar, with a confused look that quickly turned into a horrified realization.

"Stella, honey, we don't have the money for that," she said quietly, so as not to break the music.

"Maybe another one?" I asked her, trying my best to make my three-year-old voice turn timid, which was surprisingly difficult given the lack of volume control. "Maybe something else?"

"We'll see," she said, smiling. I think she was just happy I was talking; I was a very quiet toddler, even though everyone knew I could talk. Then again, Luna babbled a lot, so maybe she was relieved I didn't talk a lot? I didn't know.

She almost bought me a cheap, plastic toy accordion. She said she was joking, but I don't think she was—it was cute, child-proof, and most importantly dirt cheap. Instead, we compromised; since a high-quality guitar was prohibitively expensive, she bought a cheap, rickety ukulele from a muggle pawn shop, and told me that if I practiced hard enough they would try to get me a 'real instrument'.

I think I surprised the hell out of them when I learned to play the instrument to the same standard as my old life. I did have to take it slowly, but I was aching to play some of the old songs I knew, so I accelerated my own learning and pretended to be a musical prodigy. Sadly, many of them were Hawaiian, which would have been horribly out of place in wizarding Britain for several reasons, so I stuck to fiddling with chord progressions and covers of Beatles songs (which, despite being a muggle band, was just famous enough that I could pass it off as idle curiosity). My determination at a young age ended up making me better at the ukulele than I ever was in my old life, which felt really nice.

Luna, unfortunately, had zero aptitude or interest in musical instruments, which was sad. I tried to teach her, but she never did sit still enough to try. Admittedly, I'm an awful teacher, but still. She enjoyed listening to me play, which was fine, but she never seemed interested in actually learning. Our parents joked that I got the gift for music, while Luna got the gift for adventure.

Luna not sitting still was exemplified by a situation that happened when we were around five years old.

Taking a walk outside, exploring the creek, was a pastime Luna and I had done ever since she could walk and express the interest to do so. When we were five, we were already old hands at walking to and from the creek, but one day Luna wanted to go farther out. She climbed a tree to presumably find a vantage point for which to scope out the area, and I was always close behind her, but I didn't feel like climbing the tree that day.

Anyway, long story short, she comes back down cradling an entire nest of Cornish pixies. She was insistent on raising them, and she might have actually convinced our parents had I not had a debilitating allergy to pixie dust.

Her apologetic face afterwards paled in comparison to the horrified look on her face when I started swelling up, and I resolved to never let her make that face again.

More importantly, and more relevantly, I found out later that Luna literally ran back and forth between the house and the forest about five times, just trying to keep herself calm. While my parents were trying to resuscitate me, which I don't think helped with their nerves.

Anyway, after having a healer check on me, I was given some potions and was instructed to stay in bed for several days. Luna, being Luna, kept me busy by giving me gifts from the forest, but very carefully did not bring pixie dust into the house, she was very adamant on that point.

I really just had to smile at Luna's dogged insistence in having me join her in everything she did, even as I was dying on the inside from my allergies. One thing I wished didn't carry over between bodies was my childhood proclivity to accumulate allergic reactions, but I figured I'd probably grow out of most of them again.

After that, Luna was always more careful around me, which was hilarious to me because I was always careful around her anyway, so it became a little game of who-catches-who-first before I finally just caved and pounced on her one day.

"St-Stella!" Luna said, surprised.

I quietly nuzzled my face into the back of her head. "I'm fine."

"But…"

"I'm fine." She turned her head to look at me. "If I'm not fine, you'll get help, and I'll do the same for you, OK?"

Luna stared at me for several seconds before nodding. "OK," she whimpered, and then turned around and hugged me back.

When we were five, around the same time as Luna's expedition, my mother made Floo-calls around the neighborhood, exploring options for babysitting. We weren't exactly naughty children, but one word often used to describe us was 'rambunctious'. I blame Luna for that.

Thankfully, the town of Ottery St. Catchpole was close by, and there were quite a few children roaming around, so Mum had a pretty extensive network of parents to Floo-call.

When we turned seven she decided to make another call, this time to the Weasleys nearby, and Mrs. Weasley was delighted to hear from her. Apparently she had picked up one of Mum's potions and it worked wonders for something or other.

Mum and Mrs. Weasley organized a playdate for us kids. The adult part of my brain was furious at this, because dealing with more kids was always going to be a nightmare, but the child part of my brain was extremely excited to meet more people, and since I was a child now, that part of my brain won out.

The only person more excited than me was Luna, who would not sit still, and kept asking about the playdate. Unlike myself, she didn't have the luxury of past memories to cope with the childish exuberance. Mum and Dad were exhausted from dealing with her, so it was usually up to me to control her.

When the day of the playdate came, though, neither of us would stop moving around in excitement, and Dad looked quietly distressed the whole time. It was honestly amusing. Mum just learned to roll with it.

While we could have Floo'd into the house, Mum insisted we apparate there, citing Floo-related accidents with children. Apparently, she trusted her apparition skills over the Floo system, which was odd because we had a Floo system in the first place, but I wasn't going to question Mum. Dad nodded, though, so apparently it was something they both agreed on?

I looked up in awe at the dilapidated building. The magic of duck tape construction seemed to hold true even here in the magical world; although the house itself looked worn down and close to falling apart, the fact that an entire family of nine (or more) could fit within its walls without breaking apart was a testament to the sheer magical fix-it skills afforded to the Weasleys.

"It's awesome," I told my parents, with all the severity of a seven-year-old. My mother smiled at me, clearly amused.

Luna, of course, quickly jumped up and down and ran up to the doorstep, knocking heavily.

A rotund woman opened the door, and her well-worn face looked amused as she looked at my sister, who continued to jump up and down. "Hello, who is this?" she asked.

"I'm Luna, um, I'm from down the street, um, we're from down the street, and we popped here, and, um, I really like your house!" Luna shouted at the end.

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley rolled with it, the cumulative decades of child-rearing granting her the experience and patience necessary to deal with my sister. "Well, hello there, Luna!" she smiled. "I'm Mrs. Weasley. Now, where are your parents?"

"Oh, um—"

Luna turned around to find us, and we were directly behind her, but we were apparently not close enough, so she shouted, "Hurry up you guys! Mrs. Weasley's right here!"

Dad actually face palmed as Mum laughed really hard. I listened to my sister and ran up to the doorstep.

"You didn't have to yell," I told her. "We're not that far off."

"You like her house too, shut up," she said, pouting.

Mum pulled at Luna's ear, and at Luna's outraged yelp of pain, whispered to her, "Don't tell your sister to shut up. That's rude."

Luna grumbled, but not for long, as the sounds from inside made themselves known, and she smiled in glee at the idea of playing with other kids.

The introverted part of me that carried over from my previous life wanted me to hide in a corner, shrivel up, and die, but since there were seven kids in the house I knew I had no chance. Luckily I was used to being extraverted for the sake of family, so I tucked in my big-girl shirt and strode forward with purpose and determination.

Well, metaphorically.

Okay, so I didn't move at all until my Mum pushed me into the house. Whatever, it still counts, okay?

That was how Luna and I met the entirety of the Weasley tribe: Arthur and Molly, two obviously loving parents struggling to make ends meet; Bill, the oldest and coolest; Charlie, the really big one who was so much into dragons it wasn't even funny; Percy, the strict, stoic one (who, judging from his panicked glances every time he was mentioned, made me feel like I had a kindred spirit in introversion); Fred and George, the hyperactive pranksters that I really didn't like and Luna loved to mess with; Ron, the quiet one with a huge appetite; and Ginny, who Luna bonded to almost immediately.

I think Mum really appreciated having someone who knew what it was like to raise identical twins, even if Mrs. Weasley was far more experienced in childrearing than Mum was. Dad enjoyed talking with Mr. Weasley, although I wasn't sure what it was about. I wasn't too fussed, since they both looked really engaged in the conversation.

I turned my attention to Luna and Ginny, who were apparently engaged in an imaginary exploration of the house as a new adventure, with Luna trying to discover new things and Ginny being the voice of reason ("no, Luna, that's not a...skiffer, or whatever, it's just a spatula!")

An exasperated Ron turned to me at roughly the same time. I looked at him in response, raising an eyebrow.

"Your sister's a nightmare," Ron said bluntly.

"I know, it's awesome," I said, smirking. "Now I'm not the only one who has to deal with it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "D'you reckon either of you play chess?"

"I'll play," I said, "but I'm not very good."

I did, in fact, beat him in the first game. His eyes went wide in surprise, but I had the advantage of several years of chess ahead of him.

Percy looked at the game board, and whistled. "Wow, beginner's luck?"

I shrugged, not willing to go into the whole 'second life' thing. "Probably?"

"Good thing you're here," Percy said, already turning to go into his room. "I already can't beat him consistently, he needs the challenge."

"Oh, wait," I said, trying to stand up. "Can I go up to your room?"

Percy stopped. "What?"

"What?" Ron echoed. "But I thought we were going to play again!"

"We can play in his room," I pointed out, but Percy was shaking his head.

"I'd rather not let people in," he said.

I sighed. "But it's probably quieter than out here," I said, pointing to my sister playing with Ginny, who was screeching at something Fred and George brought out. Luna looked like she was having fun, though, so I wasn't worried.

Percy followed my finger, and winced. "Well, point taken, but it's the principle of the matter." He looked like he wanted to justify himself more, but couldn't figure out the wording for a seven-year-old to understand.

I nodded. "Yeah, I get it. It's a safe space for you to go to when it gets hard to talk to people. Makes sense."

"I…" Percy blinked. "Yeah, how did you…?"

I turned to Ron, who was already setting up the chessboard for another round. "Okay," I said, letting the vowels sound out for longer, before sitting down and playing black against Ron's white. Our record was pretty evenly split, by the end of the day.

These meetings were a weekly thing, until...well, until Mum died.