AUTHORS NOTE: this book is kinda canon compliant up until the goblet of fire , there will be a lot of canon divergence except for the philosopher stone arc which will be the most canon compliant part, there will be an emphasis on world building and attempts at humor . there will be romance during/ after the goblet of fire arc. It will be based mostly on the movies but parts will be inspired by the books.
This is my first fanfic so I appreciate all and any criticism. age rating is T for gore/violence and swearing and angst. There will be trigger warnings at the beginning of any chapter that needs them
With that said I hope you enjoy the story.
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Chapter 1: time of death
Hannah Abbott was a rather ordinary sort of child, she cried when she was sad and laughed when she was happy and her favorite colour was the most typical of favorite colours ,blue.
She was the spitting image of her father with straw blonde hair that ended at her waist and muddy green eyes . Hannah had her mother's eyes but her fathers button nose ,oval face and tall lanky build.
If you were to ask someone what she was like they'd probably tell you she was well behaved and quiet, in an effort to be polite because in reality when the subject of Abbott heir was brought up there wasn't much to say.
There were few funny stories of her childhood, merely a recollection of her first word "mum" and her first steps which didn't happen any sooner or later than they were supposed to, she was as social as people expected a 10 year old to be , no more no less.
If there were a common belief she would have it.
If there were a popular toy she would want it.
If there were any trait you thought a young child ought to have she would possess it without fail. In short she was a background character , she had enough personality to say one line in a conversation but beyond that her existence was limited. The human equivalent of a set piece.
This was the general opinion of anyone who spoke to her or interacted with her briefly, a list of people which included her own parents, since lord Abbott was more often at work than at home , attending various wizengamot meetings or drowning in paperwork and bureaucracy while Hannah's mother Patricia Abbott , a muggleborn, worked in the office for the misuse of muggle artefacts and would stay out late on raids most days of the week. It was these circumstances that led to the hiring of Alice Harvey , a governess to look after the young girl if her parents left for long stretches of time. Alice fancied herself rather good with children, proper but approachable. She appreciated their candid behavior and looked forward to working with new children, each with their own unique and quirky personalities.
It was with this positive mindset that she responded to Patricia Abbott's advert for a nanny in the daily prophet. At first glance , she found Hannah to be withdrawn, mainly spending her time drawing or reading whatever muggle books were nearby. It took a few months for Alice to realize something was … off about the young girl in her care. At first it was her laugh, it always sounded the same , like a broken record on repeat, 4 seconds. every. single. time.
After that every detail that Alice tried to ignore only became more prominent. There was something artificial about Hannah Abbott, something Alice couldn't quite place her finger on
But as time drew on she understood where the eerie feeling came from because talking to Hannah she realized was like talking to what people thought a child should be and not a real child or that feeling you get when you stand too close to an illusion and it starts to glitch.
While she didn't voice these thoughts out loud, Alice made a point of steering clear of her charge ,opting to keep to the kitchen, making copious amounts of tea rather than interacting with the thing upstairs pretending to be a little girl.
I feel in order to explain how Hannah Abbott came to be , I must first tell you about another child. Clara Murphy.
Self righteous rants aside she was well liked by adults and the children at school, life in London wasn't always easy but she had two doting parents and a teenage sister who tolerated her existence , so overall a pretty normal life.
That isn't to say she was immune to tragedy but in the overall scope of the multiverse, Clara Murphy had a good life. Key word HAD.
Since Clara died , aged 10 ,4th of may 2019 08:12 , cause of death : internal bleeding and punctured lung. In simpler terms that translates to she didn't look where she was going and neither did the truck driver.
However she didn't stay dead for long. In another world , in a different time Hannah Abbott was born 4th of may 1980 08:12, I'll leave you to fill in the blanks. There was a slight issue however ,the newborn body couldn't facilitate a soul or mind , a decade it's senior, as it would most likely have multiple aneurysms and brain tumors from trying to grow at such a rapid pace, so Hannah's magic in a last ditch effort to protect its wielder sealed away Clara's mind until her mental age and physical age were in sync. This left her body without a pilot , and her magic made do with what it had , acting as an interface of sorts , trying its hardest to imitate a child.
And for the most part it worked, most people were fooled ,the exception being her nanny Alice. Although there were moments, no matter how brief, where Clara was conscious , forced to watch through someone else's eyes ,paralyzed, trapped in her mind like a constant state of sleep paralysis , in the dark and the cold
Even though ten years had passed to Clara it felt like days , since the world went dark.
And then she woke up.
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At first she thought she was dreaming, but a lot of pinching and finger counting proved that theory incorrect , so one morning she lay down in the garden , face turned up towards the sky ,listening to the gentle sound of the wind weaving through the tall grass and started thinking about the precarious situation in which she found herself.
HANNAH's POV
I have never been more grateful in my life for pub trivia, I didn't know a whole lot about the Harry Potter franchise initially , well not enough to survive it, I mean sure I watched the movies but who didn't? , but specific details like what happened after Voldemort took over the ministry were kind of a blur and I had only read the first two books but that changed when my grandma started dragging me to pub trivia nights , and while English wasn't her first language, she understood the value of money and a £1000 pot seemed too good to pass up, so I memorized books and learned obscure facts and dates. That is how I spent my Saturdays , mum would drop me off at gran's and I'd learn that houseflies hum in the key F or that JobberKnoll feathers are used in truth serum in the Harry Potter universe.
That still didn't stop me freaking out about my situation for a list of reasons. for starters.
1) if I don't do anything a war will break out before I even turn 18
2) My current mother , will be murdered , in a probably horrific fashion
3)I'm in world where common sense is on eternal sick leave
4)Trials aren't mandatory, I mean seriously why?
The idea that I'm not going to change things is laughable. Who in their right mind would be able to stand there ,24/7, 365 days a year just chilling, knowing that innocent people will die and you could prevent it? The answer is a psychopath.
I'm not entirely sure about what I can or should change but there's one thing I know for certain, canon is dead. At least it will be when I'm done with it.
—
Two weeks had passed since I decided to change things for the better, but I had yet to make much progress because the Abbott library wasn't particularly impressive, in fact it wasn't even a library, more like four shelves and a cabinet that mainly held various books on cleaning charms or recipe books (that were ever so slightly alive). There were two books that did catch my attention, The Allusive Art of Potions by Marcus Urquhart and Theory of Transfiguration by Emeric Switch. Every day when my current guardians would leave ,I made my way downstairs from my bedroom to the study and busied myself, trying to learn enough to not die. It was actually pretty interesting, according to Urquhart "potions are like a poem and each ingredient is a metaphor for an aspect of what you want the effects to be ,a replacement for wand movements and incantations as a way of channeling the will of a witch or wizard" , completely killed my train of thought that it was magic chemistry however ratios of water to active ingredients in a potion had a entire chapter dedicated to them so at least there is something resembling logic, just maybe.
The Theory of Transfiguration was a doozy and a half , since transfiguration doesn't actually change what something is in essence but the form it takes and what characteristics it possesses. A good example would be turning a match into a needle, the match will still be a match but in a needle shape . You achieve this by making a needle shaped container and then for lack of a better word, shove the mass of the match into the needle shaped container made of magic and voilà. Your match is transfigured into a needle. If you are transfiguring a large object into a small one then your magic container needs to be extra sturdy to deal with the higher internal pressure and if you're turning a small object into a larger one you have to fill any remaining space with matter conjured with magic, I'm not exactly sure how that works though so I'm taking a study break before I go mad and commit arson.
The heavy tome closes with a loud thud and I lean my head against the wall, sitting cross legged on the wooden floor of the study. I look up and count the marine blue tiles coating the ceiling as they glimmer and the sound of crashing waves fills the room. I don't know what spell that is but I want to learn it. The study is the room featured most in my memories of this life. Well, calling them memories is a bit of a stretch since I'm as emotional attached to them as I would be to paperwork, it often feels like watching security tapes in black and white , or someone info dumped me, it's a conscious effort to access them ,for the most part they stay filed away in the recess of my mind, until I forget where the bathroom is or something.
I sit up and let out a sigh, ready to torture myself with gamp's law when someone starts calling for Hann- well me. I pick the books off the floor and drag my feet to the kitchen , to find Patricia Abbott shrugging off her coat. She throws it on a chair and slips off her shoes, pushing them to the corner of the room so as not to trip on them later, then faster than light ,envelopes me in one of the most intense hugs I've ever had in my life , uh lives.
"God, I missed you". It comes out as a whisper since her face is buried in my shoulder. She pulls away and gives me a blinding smile, that's so bright, I feel like I should squint.
"I missed you too. How was work?" The first part isn't necessarily false since the company is lovely and serves as a good distraction.
Patricia takes my hand and pulls me towards the living room, sets me down on the navy blue couch and starts telling me about her day.
"Ten raids this week, TEN!. They're not even giving us over time , besides me and Arthur did most of the work anyway, lazy bast- anyway do you know how many times a couch tried to kill me today?
"Once?" I ask ,surprised it even happened at all.
"Try 5 times"
Who would even do that to a couch? What purpose does a murderous couch even serve? Before I can ask, I hear a squeaky pop and turn to see Robert back from work dressed in black robes with a yellow lining looking rather chipper. He walks over to Patricia and gives her a kiss to which I politely turn my gaze .
"I'm famished" he tells Patricia, while making something suspiciously resembling a pout.
Patricia chuckles and heads off to the kitchen wand in hand, leaving me and Robert in the living room. Welp here goes nothing, "dad?"
"Yes Hannah, what can I help you with dear?"
He says jovially, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a sort of side hug.
His friendly response makes this somewhat easier. "Well I was wondering if you knew any other kids I could play with …, since it gets kinda lonely with just me and miss Harvey in the house."
Guilt fills his face as he responds. "Sure , I'll ask around"
I panic at his downcast expression, trying to ignore the rising guilt in my chest , knowing that I caused it ,because Robert Abbott is many things and one of them is a complete and utter cinnamon roll. He's so adorable and innocent that he puts puppies to shame. So in an effort to remedy the situation I give him a quick hug and start telling him about what knowledge I managed to cram in my head over the course of the last week. By the time we start moving towards the kitchen for dinner , the smile is back on his face. Crisis averted. phew.
Patricia hums as she dances through the kitchen, firing off various spells as ingredients fly through the air, and within a matter of minutes dinner is ready. God I love magic. "Well don't just stand there, eat up!"
Most of the dinner conversation goes over my head , something about a new law Robert had to shoot down , I zone out until I hear my name mentioned.
"So Hannah was asking me earlier if I knew kids she could play with, and didn't you tell me about a bloke in your office who had 10 kids or something like that?" Robert inquired .
"Do you mean Arthur? He has 7 kids dear" Patricia says turning to face me. "I think he has quite a few children near your age , including a daughter just a year younger than you actually. Well what do you think?"
"I'd like to meet them " I say , nodding so fast my vision blurs ever so slightly because who wouldn't want to meet the Weasleys?. Patricia promises to mention it to Arthur tomorrow and I almost skip upstairs at the news.
It takes a good few hours for me to finally fall asleep and I wish I had the luxury of saying it was just my nerves getting the better of me. Sleep hasn't come easy as of late since every time I start to drift off, a sense of dread fills me as I wonder who will wake up when I go to sleep ?, me or that thing. My solution so far has been to busy myself with studying or some other task until I succumb to complete exhaustion. I manage to fall asleep to the sound of birds tweeting as the sun peeks out from behind the sky as I wrap myself in my duvet , murmuring about the practicality of homicidal furniture.