So, this is going to be a fun story.

I decided I wanted to write a looper story, but couldn't decide between RWBY and Harry Potter, so in the end I flipped a coin. However, my sadistic side came out when writing this so Skye is not going to have a very fun time of this. If the tone changes afterwards, blame that on me being flip-floppy with wanting to hurt my characters and wanting them to be overpowered sunshine rainbows of awesomeness =/

But yeah, rated M for Massively-Over-The-Top-Torture-Stuff!

Chapter 1

If someone were to ask Skye what she thought death was, all they'd receive would be a confused burble.

That wasn't because she was insulting them or had a mental issue, it was simply because her body was currently that of a toddler and couldn't actually form the words she would have used, which would have probably been similarly confused questioning. As it stood, nobody had asked her that, for obvious reasons. But if they had done so, and if she were to be in the mood to give an actual response, Skye would probably respond that she thought death was like a doorway.

At the end of a life, the person would step through the doorway, leaving behind their past life and those memories like leaving a coat and scarf on a hook, then through to the next room and a new set of memories, or in this analogy a new coat and scarf, however nonsensical it would be to have a scarf and coat in every room. What she would say in her own mind though was that obviously somebody had made a cosmic error because it seemed she had gone through said doorway with her coat and scarf still on. It was all too good that it was all an analogy, as wearing a coat and scarf indoors would be really quite odd.

As it stood, Skye only really knew a few things about her situation. She was a child, more specifically Skye Aurora Potter, firstborn daughter to James and Lily Potter. And while that could be dismissed as just a coincidence, the wooden sticks being waved around, the man that could turn into a dog and the genial old man with a silly hat and dreadfully long beard made absolutely sure that it was hammered into her head from the first moment she opened her eyes that she was, in fact, in the Potterverse, born as a child of prophecy and destined for a fucked up life.

Of course, said fact had not gone over well with her. If she'd been reborn as some nameless person in a generation like Nymphadora's, she would have been over the moon at the chance to learn magic and to get out of dodge before things got hairy, maybe moving to America or Japan or just somewhere away from Great Britain and Voldemort. But no, not only was she born at the exact wrong moment, she was born into quite literally the eye of the metaphorical storm.

Now, she knew what was coming. Peter Pettigrew was literally a rat in both ways, who would give the secret to Voldemort and would cause her doting parents to be killed. Skye wanted to change this, in her heart she truly did, but, well, what the fuck was she meant to do? Her body wasn't even two years old, and while she could feel and even use the magic in her underdeveloped body, since it felt like a foreign entity from what she was used to and thus was easy to draw upon, as opposed to a child who was born with it and would never know different, all her 'power' would be insignificant compared to Voldemort.

As such, when the night came and the wards fell, which sent a wave of cold through her body even if at the time she didn't know what it was, Skye was forced to hear as her father was killed, then witnessed as her mother stood between her and the disgusting man, before finally, he turned his attention onto her. He didn't speak, and honestly, he seemed saddened at having to kill her, as bizarre as that seemed. But it didn't stop him from raising his wand and casting that spell at her, striking her in her face as she looked at him.

It...the only word that said it properly was that it hurt, in a more intimate and visceral way than she had ever experienced before, as his spell lashed out at her and in turn whatever kind of sacrifice or ritual or weird voodoo shit her mother had done tried to protect her against the unblockable spell. Rather than make her cry, the pain made her entire body curl in on itself and cramp up, and distantly she heard a yell of pain and anger and malevolence as, in the back of her head, she knew that the spell had rebounded and struck Voldemort in turn.

And, as the minutes passed and she heard some footsteps, she realised the pain had passed and that she was not actually just avoiding the pain through unconsciousness, which a few moments later led to the worrying realization that because she had been sat up in her crib and looking straight at Voldemort when he cast the spell, it had not struck her forehead but had instead gone for her eyes, perhaps by having that lethal energy being parted across the bridge of her nose which would then have streamed into her eyes, much more vulnerable targets than bone.

However, she didn't have long to ponder that, as she heard a near-silent whisper for just a moment before her mind went blank.

When she came to, it was to more pure darkness.

Putting her small and thin hands to her face, Skye could feel her eyelids moving up and down and could feel her eyeballs beneath them, which meant she still physically had eyes, they apparently had just decided that working was something for eyeballs that actually fucking cared to do. Not that her eyeballs were sentient, obviously, but she had to have some way to let her anger at the situation out. Literally less than a year and a half and she had been fucking blinded because she hadn't exactly mimicked the fucking posture or actions of the real Harry Potter apparently had on that night which meant he got a lightning bolt scar.

However, she didn't give herself time to mope or get miserable, magic existed after all, and Moody had his eye, which meant it was proven that magical prosthetics for that kind of thing existed, she just had to somehow get her hands on one...well, two because fuck not having depth perception, but that didn't matter because for the time being, she had to figure out her exact situation.

She already knew with a decent chunk of certainty that she was currently housed with the Dursleys' under their wards, she saw no reason why that would have changed other than the slight chance of the butterfly effect coming into play, but she honestly thought that very unlikely. Trying to sit up quickly found her banging her head against something, which led her to believe that she was currently tucked away under the stairs.

As such, her mental rating of the Dursleys' went from discontent to outright despisal. They had left a fucking less than two-year-old infant under the stairs in what was presumably a very dusty and unpleasant environment. When she got the chance in future, she was going to make absolutely sure they regretted that. Seriously, it was like they...well, they probably did want her dead, because she was literally the rock thrown through the window that was their perfect and normal life.

Rising up again, slowly and more cautiously this time, Skye used her hands to feel around herself, shivering slightly at the cobwebs her hands passed through, not even wanting to imagine what kind of creepy-crawlies were in there with her. For all she knew there were spiders crawling over the walls and just avoiding her hands, not a thought she relished. Because of her size though, she wasn't able to feel much.

So, instead of trying to do something stupid like trying to get out and wander around, Skye began to exercise. She had needed to keep it on the down-low beforehand, as to not give away that she knew more than she should, but every day she had made sure to exercise her muscles at least a little bit, preparing herself for an active future. If she was going to end up being the Girl-Who-Lived, she didn't want to end up being the Girl-Who-Couldn't-Run.

Now that she was locked away under the stairs, out of sight and out of mind, she had a great opportunity to give her body some real exercise. One thing she briefly considered was the risk of developing her body at a young age meaning that she wouldn't grow properly, but hell, that was why magic existed, to fix problems like that. She wanted to be able to ensure that nothing like 'Harry-Hunting' ever occurred to her, so being fast, nimble and strong would be the easiest way to avoid it ever happening. if she could somehow trick or convince Dudley to not even give her a second look, that would be perfection.

Footsteps above her drew her attention from the arm and leg rolling she was doing, forcing her to simply stay sat up as she listened. The steps went behind and then to her side, so whoever it was had just gone around the bottom of the stairs and then to the closet door. A moment later, she felt the air pressure change as the door opened. In response, Skye looked vaguely towards where she believed the door to be, scooting forwards in feigned innocent curiosity.

It, therefore, caught her quite by surprise when something struck her cheek hard and fast, knocking her onto her back as her face burned with the pain of the sudden strike. "Why? Why do you have to exist? Why couldn't you have just died with them? Why did we have to be involved because of my bitch of a sister?" The voice was harsh, filled with venom and malice. "Damn that old bastard for doing this to us, and damn you for existing." She then heard and felt the closet door close again, leaving her alone once again.

Well, that 'first meeting' went well.

"Stop squirming!"

Hearing the clink of metal, Skye tensed up, baring her teeth at the air as she felt a strike come down hard on her ass once again. All she'd done was come out of her closet and climbed up onto the counter to get a drink of water, a task that was practically herculean since she had to learn where the drawer handles were then climb up them, but she'd done it. Of course, when Vernon Dursley came in the front door and saw her climbing the counter, he immediately grabbed her by her hair and dragged her away, the sound of wood scraping against tile as he pulled a chair back and sat down, yanking her bottoms down.

Apparently, when drunk and paired with the fact he literally despised her existence in his home, giving him even the tiniest reason to beat her was an incredibly bad idea. What was worse was that he seemed to get angrier and angrier, or at least every strike got harsher and harsher, probably because aside from hisses of pain and unconscious twitches, Skye didn't give him anything, no screaming in pain or crying or pleading. Sure, it hurt like absolute fuck, but she was never someone who cried from pain, she simply cramped up and had to endure it until it passed, the only times she cried being from emotions, not sensations.

What did cause her to make a noise though was when she felt his hand come down not on her backside but on her head, lifting her up as he snarled. "You eat our food, live under our roof, and still think you can steal from us?" His hand clenched tighter in his rage, making her wince in pain as his nails and fingers dug into her skull. "Little fucking thieving brat like you should've been strangled at birth, with that repugnant scarred face it's not like you could even be a cheap whore to pay for all the things you waste."

He then swung her and abruptly let go of her, making her feel weightlessness for a moment before an object, his knee she distantly realized, slammed into her stomach, bending her over and cracking her head against his other knee, the pain making her go limp as her insides and her face burned. A hand slammed into her side, shoving her off of him and onto the floor, where she instinctively curled up, trying to protect her face and stomach from further damage, all the while he spat words at her, interlaced with kicks and stomps. One of those stomps smashed into the top of her head, and she felt...it felt like her head was an egg and it had been dropped, she could almost 'feel' her skull splitting from the force of a fully grown man stamping on her head.

The next thing she was aware of was a single almost imperceptible flash of green before the pain hit her, almost drawing a scream of pain from her mouth at the sudden agony that rippled across her face. But what cut through the pain was the sense of Deja Vu she felt as she heard an eerily similar scream to what she had heard before. With the pain having receded, Skye felt her mind go into hyperactivity.

If she hadn't already reincarnated, maybe believing that she had just gone back to the instant she was hit by the Killing Curse would have been a tall order. However, she had a lifetime of memories, and more importantly, a lifetime of memories which included a healthy amount of Potterverse knowledge. Sure, none of that knowledge told her about going back in time like she seemingly had, but it made it so much easier to believe her own theory.

And, if her tentative theory on what was going to happen was accurate, to say she was a bit nervous would be an understatement. Time went the way she recalled, her consciousness blanking out and then waking up again, her hands proving to her that she was in the closet under the stairs again. Immediately she started trying to plan what she could possibly do.

Up to the point she was at, there wasn't really anything she could change. The briefest flash of green she saw meant she couldn't possibly avoid being hit by the curse, so changing that was instantly out. Avoiding being put to sleep and dropped off at the Dursleys' also seemed fairly impossible, she'd need to escape her crib and get out of the building in an incredibly brief time, all whilst being blind and physically only a year and 4 months old, then survive out there and not just get hunted down by magic.

Before her sudden...death at Vernon's hands, Skye would have said the safest place for her was in the Dursley's home. But when the man was drunk and furious, well, evidently his rage overcame his common sense and he had...murdered her. And, while she was a bit scared of being found, and even more scared by the fact she was literally blind and thus fairly helpless, she didn't want to stay and risk being killed again, just in case she didn't suddenly wake up again.

So, rather than sitting still and exercising her limbs, Skye got up carefully and moved to her closet door, pushing it open. She'd had two months to learn the vague layout of the Dursley home, as well as her own memories of the place from the movies, so she knew that if she turned left she would be facing the front door, whilst forwards would go into the living room. The back garden was not right not an option, simply because there was no way out of it, especially not a way out that someone as small as she could use.

The front door was also a terrible option, because the lock was one of those higher-up ones. That left the windows in the living room, which she could access by climbing onto the table, then the windowsill, before finally opening the window and fleeing through it. Skye didn't exactly want to flee from 'safety' but Vernon had made it clear that all it took was some alcohol and anger and he would literally kill her, so honestly, she'd rather take her chances outside of the building.

Taking a step out of the closet, then a second one, she felt her hands touch the wall on the opposite side. Stepping left, she felt the doorframe and went through it, walking vaguely diagonally and touching the chair there, then around that and on the same walking path until she laid her hands on the side table that lay beneath the windowsill. She carefully took off the objects that lay upon it, then climbed up onto the table, then from there onto the windowsill through the gap between the curtains.

She shimmied to the right, her hands questing for and eventually finding the window handle. A few pushes forced it upwards, allowing her to shove the window open. With nary a glance backwards, mainly because she couldn't see and thus doing so would be a horrendous idea, Skye slipped out of the window, wincing as her sock-clad feet landed on the bushes below, the sticks jabbing at her feet painfully.

Ignoring that, she moved forwards, mentally trying to focus on the small amount she actually knew about the layout of Privet Drive, knowing already that doing anything was going to be a fucking ordeal. She stepped off a curb, then back onto it as she started walking on the edge, following it left as she knew that would lead out into the wider world. Her first task was to get away from the house, that was the most important part of her plan. After that...well, she had no fucking idea, but there was no way she was staying there so long as she could help it.

After a minute or so of walking, she stopped, rolling her foot on the edge of the curb idly. Maybe going back would be better? She had no way to survive outside anyway, she was too young and because she couldn't see she was far too vulnerable. leaving was more spurred by the fact she literally had only died a very short period ago from her perspective, so she felt trying to get away from the house where the man who had murdered her...or would murder her, lived, but as she thought more and more about it, running around figuratively and literally blind was just asking to get run over or kidnapped.

So, of course, it was just her luck that as she thought about that, she found a hand latching itself onto her mouth, the other grabbing one of her arms. "Well well well, I wonder what such a poor, innocent little girl is doing out all alone at a time like this?" Skye was honestly amused enough at the fake tone and the spoken words to ignore that cold pang of fear that came from being gripped by someone she couldn't see. "Well now, this won't do. Not at all. Come along young girl, we should be finding your family, hm?"

Without a moment to even act, Skye found herself unceremoniously dragged a short distance, followed by a car door opening and her being quite casually thrown inside, banging her head against the door on the other side and jarring her back when she fell off the seat and into the footwell. The vehicle rocked as the man got into the vehicle after her and closed the door, upon which the engine started and the vehicle started to move.

Orienting herself upright, Skye quickly felt a hand press against her head, forcing her downwards and out of sight of anyone outside the car. Understandably just a bit nervous at being blind in a car with unknown people, Skye resigned herself to knowing that she was probably seriously fucked, and so just hoped that she would die quickly so she could either see if her theory was correct, or at least avoid whatever fate was in store for her in the future, because she highly doubted they were taking her to get some milk and cookies at a police station. "Well, we've got a long journey ahead of us, so why not have so-"

If asked, Skye could admit that right then, just as a real and healthy dose of fear was rolling up her spine, she didn't really think about what she was doing. In her body, she hadn't thought about it, she simply grabbed at that ball of magic floating inside of her and forced it outwards. Said sudden burst of magic caused an explosion which burst her eardrums, and that also shattered the windows and kicked the car up into the air as the middle buckled outwards violently around her.

Because she was the origin of the shockwave it didn't have as much of an effect on her, but she heard a grotesque squelching sound as the man that was sat in the seat beside her got turned to mulch, the same happening to the driver. After a moment though the shockwave violently receded, causing an implosion that crushed her within the car, leaving her trapped and in agony.

After just a minute, she felt the metal that was crushing her suddenly vanish, dropping her to the solid ground below in a bundle. "Great, a fucking brat doing accidental magic. Fuck this, just gonna...-" He cut himself off, and Skye found herself lifted up by the shredded clothes she was wearing, being twisted and moved. The inspection didn't last long before maniacal laughter filled the air, the hand on her clothes tightening. "Just my luck! The Dark Lord's vanquisher in the flesh! Well now, I think that a little...CRUCIO-"

For the first time in living memory, Skye screamed and cried in pain, as the torturous spell started to scour her entire body with horrendous agony. It felt like an expanding metal ball was trapped in her skull and expanding through her brain whilst needles and saws stabbed and hacked away at her flesh, a hand of living fire tearing at her organs at the same time. "-would not be amiss for such a wonderful occasion!" Almost mercifully, Skye quickly found her unprepared, underdeveloped and already heavily-wounded body giving out from the pain, her heart stopping and causing an even worse pain to ripple through her before disappearing.

When the green flash and pain greeted her, she couldn't help the shakes that coursed through her, now knowing explicitly that there were far worse fates than death.

So yeah, that was fun.

And I feel like Skye's hasty actions were not too out of place for someone who had literally just been murdered in that house. She wasn't thinking very rationally, she was just wanting to get the fuck away. That led her into even worse danger and ended up with one of the Ministry moles finding her, recognising who she was and having some fun with her.

I'll be entirely honest, I have no idea where I'm going to go with this. Part of me wants to make it so Skye loops a hell of a lot but her body and magic stay the same, and part of me wants to make it a development thing, so as she dies over and over again, her magic and her body get stronger as a result, but also that she would suffer some sort of backlash, significant scars appearing for similarly significant deaths. Dying to Vernon crushing her head in a fit of rage wouldn't count, but being vivisected slowly by, say, Lucius Malfoy as he performed a fucked up ritual on her, that sort of thing would leave a scar down her front.

As for the blindness thing, people should know by now that I like to do things to my characters like taking their vision or their voice, might be because I'm a bit of a sadist, I don't know really. Might be a self-harm thing since usually my characters are more than a little bit self-insert in their mannerisms, but whatever, it's happened, and if I retcon it then I do =P

Please review so I know exactly how much more despised I am now for making yet another shitty OC-SI story ^.^