Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Four | Day One

The weeks pass by quickly, with me spending my time poring over my textbooks, teaching myself introductory NEWT level spells and making sure Snape can't make my life miserable on my first day of potions. Monkshood and Wolfsbane? Same damned thing. Bezoar? You can find it in the belly of a goat. I'm not going to fall behind this time and I want to make sure I'm being the best I can be. I'm unfortunately limited in what I can learn at the current moment, due to my only source of information being Flourish and Blotts. Not very easy to find tomes detailing the more damaging and creative aspects of combat magic in a public book store.

Thankfully, due to my magic being carried over from my previous life, I'm having an incredibly easy time picking up new spells as I'm not working with an eleven-year old's magic. That, and the lock removal has worked wonders for my new academic passion. I can focus, actually focus long enough to study for once in my life, retaining important facts and other information for more than ten minutes makes me feel like I've gained some sort of super power. It's like someone poured extra brains into my head. Not really a good analogy, but it's the best I've got at the moment.

The only downside to the week is my embarrassment at having to get used to my new… hardware. After nearly sixteen years of being male, there's a very large learning curve.

-::-

Soon enough, it's Sunday, September 1st. It's time to head to school. Grabbing my things and running down the stairs into the pub I place a sickle on the counter and ask Tom for some floo powder. He hands a pinch to me and I march through the fireplace after tossing the powder in and calling out "Platform Nine and Three Quarters." I shut my eyes tight in preparation, stepping awkwardly into the fire, feeling my head and guts spin from the terribly nausea inducing method of transportation.

Shocked, I find myself standing on my own two feet after coming through the floo, mouth agape as I stand in the middle of the station. I think that's the first time I've not tumbled onto my arse when using the floo! Finally! A nice small change! No greater conspiracy that seeks to shake my world view to it's foundations. Giggling to myself I stop and admire the view, eyes locked onto the bright red train looming in front of me. It looks a lot better in real life than in the land of the dead.

I climb onto the train, grabbing the first empty compartment I come across, unshrinking my trunk and floating it into the cubbies. Hedwig has already left ahead of me, meeting up with the other owls at Hogwarts and probably getting up to no good. I swear that owl is smarter than most people. I wonder if I should teach her any tricks?

Pulling out my copy of Occlumency, the Art of Mind Magics and You, I sit back and continue where I left off, reading over different meditative techniques to aid in clearing and sorting my thoughts. See, last time no one told me that Occlumency can make it easier to learn things, control your emotions, or even get a better handle on your magic. Instead I had to deal with Snape screaming at me to clear my mind before smashing into my brain like a ten-tonne sledgehammer. Fuck, that man is a git. Why was he ever allowed near children? It'd be like asking Hitler to teach an arts class, sure he could paint, but the guy is still Hitler.

I'm so enraptured by my book that I don't notice the train leaving the station, nor a couple of first years piling in around me, completely unaware that they asked me about three times if it was okay to sit in the compartment before muttering "eh, whatever" and taking their seats. A loud pop to the left startles me, pulling my attention away from the book to see my new companions playing a game of exploding snap.

Setting my book down I lean back and see who's joined me. There are two girls in my compartment, one of them is quite lanky, her face all points and edges framed by long black hair that settles into a tight braid that hangs off her shoulder. The other is sportier looking, her light brown hair cut short into a tidy pixie, a light dusting freckles across her nose and a wide smile crossing her face as she sets down a card, causing the other girl to scowl. It takes me a second to recognize the two as they weren't in Gryffindor, realizing that it's Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. I don't think I ever saw Greengrass do so much as eat without being incredibly prim and proper, so her playing a game that gets your hands dirty? Colour me surprised. I watch the game for a little while before Tracey whoops in victory as Daphne's last card bursts in her hands.

"Yes!" Tracey claps loudly, doing a small sitting victory jig while Daphne looks over in my direction. Tracey's head snaps over and her mouth opens in surprise. "Oh! We're so sorry for interrupting your reading, we didn't think this would bother you," she gasps in embarrassment, gathering up the remaining cards. "You didn't hear us come in, so we thought it was okay."

I smile back at her, letting her know that I'm not bothered. "It's fine! It's fine. Honestly, it's not a big deal," I assure her, reaching out to shake her hand. "My names Helene, Helene Potter… and you are?"

Her eyes light up in shock, but quickly narrow in confusion, obviously recognizing the name Potter but not Helene. "My name is Tracey Davis." She introduces herself, waving her hand towards Daphne, "and this is my friend, Daphne Greengrass."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." I try to channel a touch of pureblood prestige into my voice. Just enough to make an impression on Daphne as she seems to be a bit traditional, but not so much as to come across as a posh snob with a stick up my arse, cough Malfoy cough. I should get to know Daphne, considering her family was placed on the list of potential guardians in my parents will.

"Excuse me, but are you from the Potter family?" Daphne inquires, leaning forward slightly in her seat, fingers clasped over her lap.

"The Potter family? As in Lily and James? Yes, I'm their daughter." I laugh internally at her confused look.

"But they had a son named Harry, did they not?" She asks, squinting slightly as she tries to figure out the mystery that is me.

"A misconception, nothing more," I reply, waving my hand regally. "You can't trust everything you read in the papers you know."

Nodding her head at what seems to be a sage statement, she relaxes a touch. She decides not to push her line of questioning and is seemingly satisfied with my answer, leaning back into her seat with casual grace. At least, as much casual grace as an eleven-year-old can muster. Meanwhile Tracey just looks even more confused than before.

"So, you're not Harry?" She blurts, trying to wrap head around what I've said.

I laugh in reply, biting my lip as I think of how to phrase my answer. "There is and never was a Harry Potter. Just Helene. All of the books and newspaper articles you've read that would tell you otherwise were written without my knowledge or consent."

"Well that's rude of them," she huffs, arms crossed.

"Very." I agree. "I think I'm going to have to get in touch with a solicitor and see if there's any money I can get out of people who've been selling my name. Consent and all that."

"That's a good idea Potter," Greengrass says, nodding her head in approval. It mystifies me that I'm currently speaking to an eleven-year-old, and not a sixteen-year-old heiress from the Victorian era. Could have fooled me with the way Daphne speaks. "My father is a solicitor and I could get you in touch with him if you'd like."

Well, that's awful convenient.

Hey, who said Slytherins were all dark and evil? I mean yeah, her dad is a solicitor which is just one step below being a Dark Lord, but it's not like everyone in Slytherin is brimming with magical power and has a hankering for Dark Arts. At least they're not drooling over me being the boy-who-lived. Whoops- girl-who-lived. Going to take a little to get used to that.

"That would be fantastic! Would you be able to owl him when we get to the castle?"

"Of course," she curtly replies.

Apparently now that the necessary introductions and schemes are out of the way, Tracey and Daphne slip back into being kids, chatting and giggling excitedly about what they think Hogwarts is going to be like. I open my book again, eyes flitting over the page to find my spot before looking up and noticing Daphne spying the title on the spine, her eyes glinting approvingly. Well that explains the ice queen persona, she must be, or will be, an accomplished occlumens. Although she does at least have training at a very young age, judging by how reserved she was. Must be a pureblood thing. Have to keep the family secrets and all that.

The train ride passes by leisurely, with me studying over my books and occasionally jumping in on Daphne and Tracey's conversations. We talk about everything and nothing at the same time, with me trying to subtly study the nuances of 'girl-talk' so that I don't make an absolute arse of myself. It's going to take a little bit of getting used to the spit-fire questioning that's occurring, but it's nice to be able to just sit back and chat with new people without them going star struck around me. The normalcy is a breath of fresh air.

After a short nap, I'm woken up by the announcement that we're getting close to Hogsmeade, and I march over to the bathroom with a change of clothes. No chance in hell I'm changing in front of kids, fucking hell that would be reprehensible. It's not like I'm Ollivander or anything. Trust me, something's wrong with that guy.

Slightly distracted by my skirt swishing around my knees, I head back to the compartment to meet up with Tracey and Daphne before we hop off the train. Skirts are something I could get used to! No wonder Scots wore kilts. It's so freeing! Although, I'm not looking forward to wearing a skirt in the winter, so I'll have to check the dress code and see if trousers are allowed in the colder seasons. I'm pretty confident they are, seeing as I remember Hermione wearing trousers or jeans quite often in the winter.

The three of us step off the train and are greeted by the enormous sight of Hagrid. Christ, I forgot how tall that guy is. I guess it's just become more evident now that I've shrunk. What is he, nine feet tall? Thinking about it, how in the hell does he fit in his cabin? It can't be more than a hundred square feet at the most. The wonders of magic I guess, somebody must have expanded it.

Following Hagrid's calls of "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" We make our way over to the boats, treading dangerously over the stone pathway leading to the lake. Climbing in and setting off with the rest of the first years I remember something important. I didn't get to re-meet Ron and Hermione on the train! Fingers crossed that our friendship doesn't get demolished due to my rebirth and time travel. Well, Hermione's at least. I've had a relatively strained relationship with Ron since the Triwizard Tournament, and I don't think he's ever really going to grow out of his jealousy. Now that I'm a girl… I remember the ways that he treated Hermione, how he spoke to other women like they were a piece of meat.

I cringe internally remembering his spat with Hermione at the Yule Ball, how he always tended to let his jealousy get the better of him.

No, I don't think a friendship between him and me would work out in this timeline.

Soon enough the castle is in sight. I blink in confusion as I feel myself passing through the wards, long before I notice the turrets and towers of Hogwarts brushing their noses against the clouds. A shiver runs through my spine as I re-acclimatize to the incredible presence of magic flooding off of the castle. I guess this has to do with my lock being removed and being more in tune with magic, but I can almost see the magic coursing through the air. It's like there's a thin sheen layered into the air, an ethereal fog, and the walls of the castle are practically shining with power.

I reach out at the magic floating in front of me, poking at it curiously. I marvel at how it responds to my touch, shimmering and distorting as my finger touches it. I really can see it. I can feel it. There's a slight static, a tingling shock bouncing from my fingertips to the magic as I push it away from me. I'm going to have to read up about this later and see if I can somehow use it. I've never heard of someone seeing magic before, nor interacting with it in such a way.

Torches light the path ahead as we come up to the docks, the dinghy shuddering to a halt. I climb out and onto dry land, helping Daphne and Tracey out of the boat and following the teeming mass of first years into the castle. I laugh as the ghosts scare the ever-loving hell out most of the new students as we wait in the entrance hall for McGonagall to come and collect us. For some reason the ghosts halt, staring at me with empty eyes before they nod and continue on their path. That probably has something to do with me having died. I hope they don't go and rat me out to anyone.

The sounds of a scuffle catch my attention, and I turn to my left to see Ron and Draco getting into a fist fight before the term has even begun. I shake my head in amusement as McGonagall breaks up the miniature brawl, huffing loudly in annoyance. She separates the two, the both of them glaring venomously as they're dragged apart.

McGonagall is so flustered by the fight that she forgets to give us the introductory spiel about our houses being our homes and such, instead announcing, "First years! Please come with me to be sorted!" Hagrid trundles over to her, a downcast expression on his face as he whispers something in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she quickly beckons everyone over and does a quick headcount, worry and confusion passing over her features before she collects herself, putting on her usual stern mask and leading us into the Great Hall.

I stifle a laugh as I march in with the rest of the new students. Who gets to say they've been sorted at Hogwarts twice? Hopefully the Sorting Hat doesn't announce my incredibly rare circumstances to the school, although I imagine he, it… whatever you call a sentient hat, would probably find it all just as funny as I do. It has been around for a thousand years, so I'm sure the hat gets quite bored.

McGonagall makes a half-hearted attempt to line us up, tutting in frustration as the throng of eleven-year-olds do their best to make sure that they're not standing in any apparent order. She gives up, making her way up to the stool and drawing out a long list. "Hannah Abbot!" She cries out, and I see a much smaller Hannah lace her way through the mass of first years and nervously walk up to the stool. The Sorting Hat rests on her head for less than a second before bellowing, "Hufflepuff!"

McGonagall runs through the names, as far as I can tell everyone is sorted into the same house they were last time. Although, I've always been awful with names, so I may be misremembering one or two. Hermione is the first combo breaker that I notice, and it's not a surprise to me that she's placed into Ravenclaw. I guess I must have had some influence on her joining Gryffindor. Well, I know if I get sorted into Ravenclaw this time I won't be hurting for a friend.

"Harry Potter!"

Well, looks like it's time to face the music.

McGonagall stares down at me as I saunter over to her, a bewildered expression plastered over her face. "I'm sorry dear, but I believe I called for Harry Potter," she whispers, leaning down on one knee and looking the true image of the mama-bear of Hogwarts as she tries to stop me from embarrassing myself.

"Well there's been a mistake," I murmur, back of my hand against my mouth like I'm sharing some sort of grand conspiracy. "I'm Helene Potter. It's a common mix up apparently. For some reason everyone in the wizarding world thinks I'm a boy. Someone I ran into in the Alley said it has something to do with the newspapers around here? At least, that's what the other girls on the train said as well," I muse, shrugging at her.

Her face changes from perplexed to mild understanding as she notices that I'm the spitting image of my mother, and with a quick nod she stands back up. "I was worried that you weren't here today Mist- Miss Potter, it's good to know you've arrived safe and sound," she states, not sounding as assured as she normally does. I think I may have broken her.

She stops for a moment, pondering what to do before turning to the now whispering crowd and calling for their attention, the hall quieting considerably under her stern stare. "There appears to be a bit of confusion and misinformation being printed in regard to Miss Potter here," she announces, motioning for me to take my seat. "Apparently the Daily Prophet and other publishers have been lacking in their research, and have unfortunately dubbed Miss Potter, Mister, much to her chagrin." A few students chuckle at that jab.

Clambering onto the stool (the thing is bloody tall! They really should invest in a first-year sized one) I take my spot and feel McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on me. I don't fail to notice Dumbledore frowning in my direction as I climb onto the seat. I throw up my rudimentary occlumency shields reflexively, audibly sighing in relief when he doesn't make an attempt to read me.

"Interesting, very interesting… Mister, or should I say, Miss Potter, you've been sorted once before," the Sorting Hat begins, it's voice full of anticipation.

"Yeah but as you can see I sort of died," I mention, feeling the Sorting Hat rummaging around in my head. Not like I can keep a secret from a millennium old artifact that reads my mind as easily as Hermione reads books.

"Mmhm… Good thing you got better," it deadpans back. Cheeky bugger.

"Hey! I heard that!"

"Shite, sorry." I apologize, feeling a touch sheepish. I literally just had the thought that he can read my mind more easily than most people see. So much for my attempts at controlling my mind.

"No need to apologize, this is much more entertaining than running through some snot nosed eleven-year-old's head."

"Damn, I never thought of that, you must be pretty bloody bored," I reply, feeling genuinely sorry for the poor Hat.

"You have no idea. I had much more fun with Godric. I got to see war every damned day! Great and terrible battles fought all over this country before I got stuck in this godforsaken gig. When you go from a couple beheadings a week to watching a chicken blow itself up once every couple of years, life loses its luster very quickly."

"Yeah I can see how that would shake things up. Maybe you should ask Dumbledore to let you out of his office some time? Old man is a bit of a prick, but he may allow you to teach History. You are older than Binns."

The Hat pauses for a moment, wondering whether that's actually a good idea or not. "I think I'd spend most of the lecture telling the students to pull their heads out of their asses, but that sounds a lot more fun than watching that ancient git mutter over Godric knows what," the Hat complains. "I'll see if I can make it work though, nobody has ever suggested that. Now, onto the sorting. You were in Gryffindor before… you know you really should have gone into Slytherin?'

"Maybe I could give it a shot this time?"

"That's a good idea, although you'd have difficulty operating under Dumbledore's nose if I place you in the house of snakes. I can see the resentment you hold for him and being in Slytherin would just focus his attention directly on you. That, and I don't believe you would get along with Severus, or should I say Snivellus. God, I love that nickname, tell your Dad I say thanks for that one when you snuff it." The Hat laughs, sighing deeply before he continues.

Wait, sighing deeply? He doesn't have lungs!

Ignoring my questions regarding the Hats missing anatomy, it carries on with its train of thought. "Hufflepuff would just stunt your growth no matter how friendly the house is, and you'd probably go insane living with the badgers. They're a touch too uptight for you. Gryffindor is off the table seeing how that went the last time... you know that you probably would have lived quite a bit longer if you were placed into any other house? Only a Gryffindor would dive into a portal to Hades. That only leaves one other option! Better be…'

"Ravenclaw!"

I tear the Sorting Hat off my head, handing it back to McGonagall who smiles at me, a smidgen of regret gracing her features as she was evidently expecting me to be placed into Gryffindor. Just because I'm a Potter doesn't mean I'm going to follow exactly in my parent's foot steps. I mean really, I never even knew them.

I leap from the stool and jog over to the Ravenclaw table, the residents of which are providing me with a standing ovation, ecstatic to see the now properly dubbed girl-who-lived placed into their house. I drop heavily into the seat next to Hermione who smiles up at me shyly before focusing her attention on the remainder of the sorting.

Dumbledore steps up to give his usual announcements, letting the student body know that they should avoid the third-floor corridor and the aptly named forbidden forest, otherwise they may die a horrible and painful death. Really, who the hell tells children not to go somewhere, especially if it's dangerous? That's a sure-fire way to get them to go and poke their nose into it! I think the whole of the student body knew there was a Cerberus guarding the third-floor corridor by the middle of the year last time around. I mentally shake my head, beginning to wonder why I ever held Dumbledore in such high regard.

Ignoring the rest of Dumbledore's announcements, I look around the hall, my gaze passing over Quirrel quickly, an annoying twinge of pain breaking out on my scar. I ignore the urge to rub my scalp, my eyes flicking over to Flitwick who is currently beaming down at me, looking like he won the lottery grand prize. I always liked Flitwick, and I'm looking forward to him being my new head of house. I continue to look over the staff table before my gaze rests on Snape. What in the- holy ever-loving shite is he smiling? Snape… smiling? Oh my god. I didn't even know he was physically capable of smiling! Fuck me, is he smiling at me? This is going to be a weird year. I think hell just froze over.

Tearing my eyes away from the blood curdling image of a grinning Severus Snape, I turn back to the table just as the food appears. Quelling all horrendous thoughts of how hideously normal he looked I focus on my meal, piling food onto my plate before digging in.

The table around me immediately erupts with questions. "Where have you been the last decade?" "Do you really have a scar?" "Why aren't you a boy?" "Can you sign my chest?"

Looking up at the statement, "Can you sign my chest?" I see the Weasley twins standing over me, beaming madly and waving a large felt pen in my face. It takes everything in me not to fall over laughing as they tear off their shirts and I sign my name with a quick flourish on Fred and George's chests before they leave back to their seats, shit eating grins plastered on their faces as they pat me on the back, announcing loudly that the 'girl-who-lived is everything they'd ever dreamed of.' I guess pranking all of Britain on your first day to school is enough to win their admiration.

"Why on earth did you do that?" I hear, Hermione whispering beside me, a confused and mildly horrified look on her face.

"Because it was bloody hilarious is why," I reply, the same mischievous grin as the twins gracing my features. "Gotta' have fun every once in a while, you know?"

Hermione inclines her head, still not understanding why I would sign the ginger twin's chests but nonplussed as long as rules aren't broken. I forgot how much of a stickler she was, hopefully I can prevent the whole incident with the troll and get her to lighten up earlier in life. All work and no play makes Hermione a dull girl.

I'm looking forward to seeing the resurgence of the confident Hermione. The one that punches Malfoy in the face and doesn't blink, instead telling me that it felt good. The one that traps Rita Skeeter in a jar for a whole week and doesn't recognize how terribly fucked up that is because she's so focused on the idea of revenge. Because I know that that Hermione will always have my back, as well as occasionally do something just ever so slightly bordering on sociopathic behaviour that I will find incredibly entertaining.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude," I apologize, offering my hand to Hermione, much to her shock. "My name is Helene Potter, and you are?"

Blushing slightly, she takes my hand and shakes it weakly, unsure of how to respond. "My name is Hermione Granger," she replies, nervously chewing her bottom lip. I forgot how terribly shy she was. But, I know that look all too well. I guess it's time for the inquisition.

She takes a deep breath before firing off her standard line of questioning. "You know you're in The Rise and Fall of Dark Wizards, right? Actually, you're in a couple of books! I've read all of them but now I'm not so sure how right they were considering they called you Harry and you're actually Helene. I thought it was illegal to print something that was wrong! Isn't it so infuriating that they would do such a thing? I know I would be furious. It's so-"

"Hermione, it's okay!" I interrupt her, laughing at what is such a completely and utterly Hermione display. "I'm aware that I'm mentioned in a few books, but I haven't read them or been interviewed for them so I'm unsure of how truthful they may be. There's no need to worry about that though, I think I'd rather forget about that and enjoy my meal with a friend, wouldn't you?"

Wide eyed she smiles back at me, her lips closed tight. Shame she's so insecure about her teeth, Hermione has always had a lovely smile, even with her slightly large teeth, and nobody ever knew until she got a little confidence in her. Obviously pleased though, she goes back to her food and we chat amongst ourselves. Hermione babbling about her parent's dentist's office and how excited she is to study magic (like I said, some things never change. The girl is definitely a born Ravenclaw), with me listening patiently and replying every once in a while, discussing different spells that she may be interested in learning.

I briefly think about letting Hermione know about the whole time-travel incident, before I remember that while I may know her, she doesn't know me. I don't think it would be a good idea to drop the bomb of 'hey I've actually known you most of my life and we're best friends, I actually died and got sent back in time because Death didn't feel like doing paperwork,' on an eleven-year-old who's just been introduced to a world she didn't even know exists. Knowing Hermione, even if she did believe such an outlandish story, she'd still have a conniption knowing that even Death breaks the rules sometimes.

Eventually the meal finishes up, and we're escorted by the Prefects to the Ravenclaw common room. We take a side route up to the fifth floor before hiking up the stairs to the top of the one of the towers, greeted by a bare wooden door with an eagle knocker fused to it.

"What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees - up, up, up it goes! And yet... it never grows?" The knocker asks, metallic eyes planted on the Prefect leading the group.

The Prefect stops for a moment, pondering the answer. "A mountain," another girl replies, the door swinging open at her statement and greeting us with a view of the incredible, and I mean incredible Ravenclaw common room. Gryffindor may be homely but it's damned garish in comparison to this! As much as I loved the red and gold, it really was too much. There has to be some variety.

Blue and bronze tapestries adorn the walls, and the room itself is decked out in Ravenclaw colours, but it's tastefully done and not an eyesore compared to the furnishings of the Gryffindor or Slytherin common rooms. A large fireplace occupies the right side of the room, a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw resting beside it, with a half circle of couches and love seats placed around the fireplace. There are two staircases on either side of the room, leading upwards into the turrets shooting off the side of the tower. Unsurprisingly, there's a series of tables lined up along the left side of the room, obviously placed there for students to study, and large bookshelves are arrayed behind the tables, presumably containing duplicates of many of the books located in the Hogwarts library. I definitely chose the right house this time around.

The prefect and his companion turn to address us, running through the usual first year spiel. What catches my attention is the two of them explaining that whenever we want to enter the common room we must answer a riddle, and that if we cannot answer we have to wait for another student to let us in. Shit I might have chosen the wrong house, I'm pants at riddles.

We're quickly gathered up and led to our sleeping quarters, girls to the left and boys to the right. I have to catch myself before I accidentally follow the boys up to their quarters and slip into line behind Hermione as we make our way up to our bedrooms.

Okay, forget about the riddles, I absolutely and unequivocally chose the correct house. Instead of the usual four or five to a dormitory that I'm used to from Gryffindor, each student in Ravenclaw gets to share a dormitory with one other student. The dormitories look closer to what I imagine a muggle universities dorm rooms would. The quarters are quite simple, with two beds on either side of the room facing the door, accompanied by two small tables placed behind them, resting underneath a large window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds. Best part of the equation though? En-suite bathrooms. Yes, bathrooms. Plural. Hell yeah! No fighting for a shower in this timeline!

It's hard to make anything out at this time of night but I assume the windows will provide me with a fantastic view of the lake and forest judging by the towers position in the castle. Looking over I sigh with relief as I notice that Hermione has joined me in the dormitory and will be my flatmate for this year, and hopefully for the remainder of my time here at Hogwarts if I have anything to say about it. I'm not interested in sharing a room with Padma Patil. I know she's not the gossip that her sister is, and I'd prefer to hang about with her rather than Pavarti, but I don't really know her all that well considering the house segregation and would rather stay with someone I'm already comfortable with.

Grabbing my pyjamas out of my trunk I slink off to the bathroom to change, coming back and climbing into bed. I fall asleep with a book on my lap and a smile on my face, content with my new and even crazier life. Life is much better when you get to make the rules.

I absolutely adore Tolkien's riddles.

Edited, 20/05/2018.