The Pureblood Mudblood Muggle

by RavenclawPeredhel

Cathy Holt was perfectly happy with her life, thank you very much. She is studying to be a surgeon, has a nice steady relationship going and is living quite happily. Then she dies. The end. Of course, that isn't what happened. Instead, she wakes up as a baby. And her older sister is some snotty kid called Petunia Evans...wait a minute. Little Petunia Dursley? Oh she is screwed

2. Chapter 2

Hi, me again. Ianthe, I was here last chapter? No? Well, I'm not saying all that shit again, go and read the last one.

Anyway, moving on. I'm finally old enough to legitimately be smart without being an obvious genius (too much work) and it is such a relief. I'm ten and Petunia is sixteen and I have a sister eleven months younger than me called Lily. Lily Evans. Yeah, that was what tipped me off, second biggest tantrum of all time when I realised that I was in fucking Harry Potter. Then another one when I realised that my baby sister was going to die when she was 21. Poor mum and dad could not work out for the life of them why I threw two tantrums in such quick sucession when I met my sister. Petunia would have been understandable, even at the age of seven (bitch) but I was the calm serious baby that never cried.

Moving on. Lils and I are in the same year at school, her birthday being in early August and mine in mid-September. So we're basically twins. Clichè Self-Insert fanfic life achieved. I'm a beautiful clever witch related to main characters in the story, the main character in fact, so yeah, I'm officially in one of those shitty Mary-Sue-esque self-insert fanfictions. I sulked for two days when I realised that.

Time goes very slowly when you are little, but I think that it is because each second is a larger fraction of your life when you are four than when you are twenty-four. Which is why time flies for me and creeps for Lily. Ninety-percent of my time from ages eight months to nine years was spent plotting murder and world domination the triumph of all things good and pure and the advocation of the rights of puppies...fuck it, who am I kidding. I'm gonna fucking murder Voldemort and be Minister for Magic or some such powerful shit because I know so much about this magic shit already and I am not going to let that snake-faced bastard touch anything that is mine. Ever. He so much as thinks about hurting my baby sister and he is drinking his own nightmare locket-guarding potion as fast as I can force it down his throat and then I am Crucioing him until his brain fucking shuts down and he dies, and then I'll resurrect him using his Horcruxes and Do. It. All. Again. And. Again. Don't look at me like that. I'm protective and possessive and slightly unbalanced, but I'm not evil. Much. Just...morally challenged.

"Ianthe! Come to the park with me! Petunia won't come, and I'm bored." Lily was whining again, tugging at my sister's hand as she pulled me along, not waiting for my reply. I couldn't help smiling at Lily, because Lily was so small and happy and young and innocent, and she was adorable.

Of course, in my head is always the constant clock ticking down the time when our golden childhood will end and magic will step in. The hourglass is almost out of sand.

The two girls were practically identical, yet it was almost impossible to get them confused. They were just so different. Both were tall for their age, with creamy skin, delicate features, wavy silken red hair and huge green eyes as well as being popular, intelligent, funny and practically inseperable. You would think that would make them impossible to tell apart, but somehow it wasn't. Where Lily was soft and still childlike, Ianthe was lithe and maturing faster thanks to her obsession with fitness and martial arts (excuse her if she wanted to survive two bloody wars). Lily's hair was auburn, a burnished copper color like autumn leaves reaching to her elbows, while Ianthe's was red, a deep, vibrant colour, the exact same colour as blood, falling to just above her knees in a waterfall of crimson silk (until the Hogwarts letters came or they met Snape, she couldn't go to Diagon Alley and some fanfictions said something about hair containing magic and cutting it weakened magic and she was not taking any risks). Lily's eyes were like grass and leaves and the green of growing things and life, while Ianthe's were cold, a bright, ever-shifting, almost unreal emerald green, like the colour of death (after all, life and death were part of the same everlasting cycle, why couldn't they be two shades of the same colour).

They were rather well-known in their neighbourhood, the beautiful sisters, daughters of the Evanses the rich folks from the city, the twins who were not twins, the identical girls who were so very different. Of course, no one ever mentioned Petunia. She was the 'other Evans sister' the plain, talentless, bad-tempered older child. Poor Petunia. She was clever and pretty enough (Ianthe was biased after all) but her light was dimmed next to the brilliance of the two younger girls, the brilliant, beautiful, sunny not-twins. No one ever remembered Petunia except her parents, and she resented it.

Of course, Ianthe, for all her maturity missed this, too focused on protecting her baby sister.