Not gonna lie, I was actually soooo excited to write this chapter. More excited than usual, and I'm usually really excited about writing. I hope you enjoy it.

And did you hear about Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? Apparently in the movie we'll be hearing about the magical American school!

"Miss Parkinson, we're so glad you decided to join us today. Would you like a lemon drop?"

Pansy sat primly on the chair Dumbledore had conjured for her, facing the desk and staring past Dumbledore to look at the little trinkets decorating the room. Snape sat on the side, staring her up and down. She politely declined the candy, internally rolling her eyes at his attempts to soften her to whatever he was trying to get her to do.

"Alright then," Dumbledore said, gently setting the little crystal bowl back down on his deck with a soft clack.

For a moment, they all sat in silence, looking at one another. Pansy kept her face politely curious, not revealing any of the trepidation that she felt on the inside.

Dumbledore hummed, then conjured a glass. He languidly picked up the pitch of water sitting on the desk and poured himself a glass.

"Would you like some, Miss Parkinson?" he asked. Pansy begrudgingly answered yes, and soon she found herself with an ice cold glass of water in her hands. She sipped at it, as the two older men looked at her. Pansy finally set the glass down on the desk.

"So why was I called up to your office, Professor Dumbledore?"

The men looked at her, and Dumbledore gave her a peaceful little smile, the twinkle in his eye shining at her in what she thought was an almost aggressive manner.

"We just want to review the troll incident with you. It appears that you were the one who ultimately defeated the troll?" Dumbledore asked as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well yes, but it was a team effort. I could never have done it without the help of my classmates." Pansy tried to appear humble as she smiled innocently. She could see that the other two men weren't buying it, but damn if she wasn't going to play this card until she couldn't anymore.

"Yes, yes, with a blasting spell that had your magical signature all over it. However, the most interesting part is the fate of Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley, with any other group of first years, would have died. His lungs and heart were punctured, and he should have suffered significant brain damage. However, just today he was healthy enough at breakfast to put away two plates of food." Dumbledore said, in that same irritatingly calm voice.

Pansy didn't say anything, just continued to sit there and stare with her spine straight and a bland smile adorning her face. Dumbledore continued on.

"When we had Madame Pomphrey look further into it, she said that the spells, quick response, and expertise were all indicative of someone who had worked as a war medic. Someone who was used to healing their comrades in the midst of turmoil. Yet when we looked into it, the only magical signature there was you, Miss Parkinson."

Dumbledore paused to take a drink of water, and Pansy took one as well. They stared at each other over the rim of their glasses, blue meeting blue, and set their cups down at the same time.

"Professor Snape has also been watching you over the past couple of months. You accomplish practical work with what some may see as a strange ease, however, you struggle with theory. You know spells that aren't in the curriculum until Defense your fifth year, and you do them well, despite the fact you've barely had possession of your wand.

"You know about things that no aristocratic pureblood girl in our society should know of. Muggle colloquialisms roll of your tongue with ease. You special ordered jeans and blouses last month and seem to wear them whenever you can. In a society where even people who say they have no problems with muggles still hold a slight inherent prejudice to them, you never even bat an eye."

Dumbledore stopped again, and Pansy narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't believe I understand what your ultimate goal is here-"

"His goal, little girl," Snape interrupted with a hiss. His black eyes seemed to be burning, but Pansy felt no fear. Her adult side was completely in control now, and she had seen worse things than an irritated Snape. "Is to figure out why a little spoiled aristocratic pureblood girl like you got a hold of medical expertise, battle experience, and a knowledge of the muggle world."

"The water had the antidote to Polyjuice. You haven't reverted, so from what we can see you are very much Pansy Parkinson." Dumbledore said, putting a lemon drop on his tongue.

Pansy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her posture gone to crap. Without even thinking about it, she began to finger the handle of her wand, always stored in her sleeve.

"You have battle instincts, why?" Snape asked, eyeing the movement of her hand. She scowled but kept her hand on it, staring him defiantly in the eye. She could feel the brush of his legilimancy against her shields, and his eyes widened. She turned away back to the headmaster.

"Why are you here, Miss Parkinson? Who are you?" Dumbledore asked. The sweet, gentle tone was gone. The twinkle had disappeared, and Pansy knew she was no longer looking at the kindly old headmaster. No, she was looking at Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindlewald, head of the ICW, Grand Sorcerer, Chief of the Wizengamot. There were powerful wizards all over the world but combined with his mind and his political capital, there was no one more powerful on this planet.

However, Pansy didn't bend. She wouldn't bend.

"I'm Pansy Ariel Parkinson, Scion of House Parkinson." she replied honestly.

The men assessed her, and she tilted her head.

"Alright then, when are you from?"

Pansy averted her eyes and looked down at her nails while Dumbledore continued to speak. She knew they had her, but she still would hold out as long as she could.

"You're telling the truth, you are Pansy Parkinson. However, you are also eleven years old. There's no way that you would be able to learn all that you know in the time you've been given. When are you from?"

Pansy looked up from under her lashes. She couldn't help but thinking what a ridiculous picture they made. Two powerful adult wizards putting the heat on a little schoolgirl.

"2003." She admitted. Neither man batted an eye.

"And what is life like in 2003 that Time felt the need to send you back?" Dumbledore asked.

A laugh burst out of Pansy's chest. A crackly, bitter one. Really? This was the question they wanted to ask?

"What do you think? Horrid, absolutely terrible. Do you think I asked to be sent back to being eleven just for the kicks?" Pansy asked, a manic smile on her face.

For the first time, the two men looked disturbed as Pansy continued to laugh. And she just couldn't stop laughing. It was just so funny that they would think she was here to help the Dark Lord, absolutely fucking hilarious.

"The Wizarding World is dead. The War has spread all over the freaking world. Wizards in freaking Timbuktu are dying! No schools exist, there aren't enough children are alive to fill them up. Every time a muggleborn is created, we try kill them. He created a special squad to kill the innocent little babies, and their innocent little siblings, and their parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles. Do you know how many portkeys I snuck on these kids for the Order?

"There is no true Light, there is no true Dark, there's just blood and death and hatred. Sweet little Ernie Macmillian went insane and started eating people."

Pansy laughed again, and it was like she was back in her own time again, watching everything fall to crap around her. Somewhere in her mind, she could hear Blaise telling her she never did know how to properly express her thought was sobering, then she stopped and frowned. They thought she was dangerous.

"You're afraid of me, you're afraid of the things I might do. I can't say that you shouldn't be, I didn't make it as long as I did because I'm some innocent little flower. None of us were. But I came back to save the people I loved, and the only way to do that is to save the world."

"Tell us what we need to know," Snape demanded. Pansy weighed her options. She could tell them everything and leave them to handle the rest. The adults could take care of everything, and she could relax into this new life.

But these adults, all of them, both Dark and Light, raised their children to fight their parents war. Pansy didn't trust easily, and there was no reason to trust them. The only person who could ultimately defeat Voldemort anyway was Harry Potter. Maybe she could do something to help out the supposed Savior of their world, even if he'd never done anything for her.

"I'll tell you one thing."


TOF


November, apparently, came with Ravenclaws.

At the present, Anthony Goldstein stood in front of her with an entire crew of Ravenclaws. Sally contentedly knitted a large red and gold sweater while Pansy looked up, bored at the sight of their stern faces. She gently shut the library book in front of her and pushed the book to the side of the table.

One of the older Ravenclaws cast silencing spells around the table so that Madam Pince wouldn't hear and disturb them, and the lot of them pulled up chairs to speak with her.

Pansy absently wondered if it was the job of everyone lately to try and intimidate her. But once again she felt mostly eleven years old, so she couldn't lie and say that being surrounded like this wasn't a bit disconcerting. However, Pansy was still Pansy, so she just rested her chin on her hand and stared.

"You're Pansy Parkinson, aren't you?" Goldstein demanded. She smirked.

"You know perfectly well who I am. Hm, Goldstein, is that Jewish?" she threw back at him. He blinked, either surprised at how flippant she was or stunned that she knew what Jewish was.

"Yes, yes it is," he said. She hummed again, and now he looked vaguely irritated.

"We want to know how you make those notebooks. The ones I bring from home can't do the things yours does, and we can't figure out the charms you use," an Asian girl piped up from the back.

"I can't tell you how to make them. Who knows, I might want to put a patent on them someday." Pansy lied. She wouldn't hesitate twisting this situation to her advantage, it never hurt to have someone owe you.

"Stop playing games with us Parkinson. What do you want, money?" Terry Boot demanded.

"I don't need money," Pansy said in apparent dismissal, looking back down to her book. She was in the library to renew the ones she had already checked out, but then she spotted this fascinating one on the origin of magic and had been there for hours. She thought one of the reasons Sally hung around her was that she always found situations that forced Sally into finishing her homework and doing her knitting.

"Well then what do you want?" Boot asked.

"Knowing Pansy," Sally mused, tugging at an especially difficult purl stitch, "Probably favors, information, valuable items..." she trailed off, caught back into her knitting.

"But - but that's so Slytherin! Aren't you supposed to be Gryffindor, Slayer of Trolls and all that?" Goldstein sputtered. Pansy winced at the title that had been spreading around the school like wildfire.

"No, that's so smart. If I want payment, I choose the payment. And I'm not going to teach you how to do that because I want you under my thumb, and you won't be able to figure it out anyway." Pansy said. The Ravenclaws blinked at her honesty, and she powered on.

"If you want notebooks, I'm guessing that most of you already have the journals?" she questioned. The group traded looks, before reaching into their bags and pulling out bulky journals of various sizes. The table filled up with them, and Pansy found herself surrounded by stacks. She pulled one of the expandable leather bags her father had given her for galleons.

"Now, I want you to fill out the front page of all of these journals with your first and last name, year, house, subject you intend to use the journal for, and anything special you want me to do with it. Then put it in this bag, and I'll get them to you as soon as possible."

As they left the library Sally tucked her hair behind her ear and stuffed the half finished sweater into her bag.

"You know, you don't have to be so hard on them." she commented.

Pansy shook her head. "Stay soft and they'll walk all over you."

Sally stayed quiet as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Valor," Sally said to the Fat Lady. She turned back to Pansy with a mischievous smile. "Come on, if we hurry, we might not have to see them."

Unfortunately, the two boys were sitting at a couch right next to the entrance of the portrait.

"Pansy, Sally. We were waiting for you to get back." Weasley said, popping up from the couch.

"Damn it," Pansy whispered.

"Language," Sally said, before turning to the two boys.

"Well then, what do you want?" Sally demanded her hands on her tiny hips.

"We were wondering if the two of you would like to go with us to the new Cooking Club they started," Weasley said.

"Weasley, we already said we're not going to do anything with you. You tortured us. We couldn't walk anywhere in the school that felt safe." Sally said. Pansy watched as Sally stalked up to Weasley, her hazel eyes positively glowing. It was times like these Pansy wondered where she had gone after fourth year. She would have been an absolute menace on the battlefield.

"We said we were sorry, what else do you want from us?" Harry demanded. Pansy had noticed that Harry had looked tired these past couple of weeks. His thin frame seemed to get even thinner, which just couldn't have been healthy for him. She knew Dumbledore hadn't passed along the news yet, so that couldn't be affecting him.

"We want the memories of a happy October, instead of one where we and our friends were constantly living in fear of you jerks." Sally shot back. Harry winced, and Pansy felt something like guilt mixed with victory that twisted her stomach up.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Weasley asked her. Pansy looked at Weasley and erased from her eyes the image of the man she knew in the future. The one who distrusted her, but made her sandwiches when she slept at his house and whose optimism for a better future kept the whole order going. She thought of an older Granger, his future wife.

"Some of Hermione's hair fell out from the stress. She could barely sleep, and you two still don't get it. You think suddenly being nice without truly realizing the errors of your ways is going to work. It isn't." Pansy paused. She swallowed, then looked away. "You need to realize that everyone is a person. We have feelings just like you do."

Sally threw a comforting arm around Pansy 's waist and led her away.


TOF


"Yes, I am so excited for this!"

The girls of Gryffindor, much faster than the guys of Gryffindor, seemed to come around to the conclusion that Pansy wasn't evil. A raging bitch, certainly. But not evil. The only one still doubtful of Pansy's credibility was Lavender. She didn't seem comfortable with Weasleys abrupt turn about.

But that was all erased in the face of the first Quidditch match of the year. All of the girls were holed up in their room, tying their hair into ponytails and painting their faces and nails with the house colors.

Fay Dunbar was practically bouncing around the room, streaks of red and yellow going down her face.

"This is going to be so great! I absolutely can't wait. Apparently the Weasley's are supposed to be the best beaters. Are they Sally, you've been to some of their practices?"

Sally smiled as she painted a bright red heart on Pansy's cheek. Pansy watched as Sally secretly rolled her eyes then turned to Fay.

"They're great." she stated, not caring to elaborate anymore.

What the other girls in the dorms didn't seem to get, much like Weasley, was that Pansy and Sally weren't going to forgive them like that. The only one who seemed to understand was Lavender.

Pansy ached for Slytherin sometimes. She missed the blue-green light and the worn black leather couches in the Common Room. But most of all she missed the people. She missed Daphne and Millicent and Tracey. She missed knowing that even if they didn't truly care for her, they would never turn against her. Loyalty meant something for a Slytherin.

They all bundled up in coats and scarves, then made their way down to the Quidditch field.

They were late because Eloise couldn't find her left shoe, so by the time they came down the flyers were already in the air, and Slytherin was winning. Pansy hid her little smirk behind the hem of her scarf.

Hermione looked absolutely brilliant. Pansy knew she had been training nonstop for this match. She was an interesting mix of nervous and happy, full heartedly throwing herself into studying different maneuvers and plays to make up for her lack of a broom.

Now she sat atop of her broom with her hair held back by about a million sticking charms and a deep green velvet ribbon Theo handed her at breakfast as Flint dragged her away.

Weasley recounted how Harry had already spotted the snitch, but Flint had knocked him out of the way. Sally and Pansy huddled together under a blanket for warmth, Sally mostly ignoring the game in favor of continuing to knit the giant sweater she'd been working on for what Pansy felt like was forever.

There wasn't much going on at the moment. The twins were brilliant, of course. Despite the fact that Pansy preferred the other team, she couldn't help but smile at how well they worked together.

The two Seekers were relatively still, each scanning the entire field for a single glimmer of gold. It was a nice day, crisp and blue, just right for Quidditch, and everyone around her seemed to be in good spirits, or at least until Harry started jerking around on his broom. The crowd started gasping.

"What is that wanker doing?" Fay complained.

"Language." Sally reprimanded before she looked up to the sky. "Oh shoot."

Pansy looked around urgently. This had happened last time too. She had heard some rumor of a hex or a curse and...there.

Quirrell was staring directly at Harry, holding eye contact and muttering under his breath. She stood to rush over to where the teachers were. Before she could get too far, Weasley grabbed her sleeve.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Saving Harry," she said, tearing herself away from him. Pansy ran between the students, laser focused on getting to Quirrell. She ducked and weaved before her robe got caught on something knocking over Snape, and in turn, knocking over Quirrell. Before either Snape of Quirrell could spot her, she melted back into the crowd, letting her bangs fall over her signature eyes and covering her face up to her nose with the hem of her scarf, just another chilly Gryffindor enjoying the game.

Harry was in control of his broom again. In a daring move as he plummeted to the ground, Hermione flew right across his path, going just below him.

Harry landed on the ground, staggering around tiredly. He seemed to spit something out and looked at it in his hand.

"And Harry Potter had caught...a wing?" Lee Jordon commented with a weird twist to his voice. Hermione was in the air, waving exuberantly.

"Slytherin has caught the snitch!"

Pansy smiled. Well, this turned out to be a good day after all.


TOF


Pansy had finally gotten around to reading the book of tales.

Fate's Gift is a guide given to those who seek to rewrite the fabric of tim, and apparently, she had one. This guide was a person taken from time for some reason or anther, then given again. They were endowed by the Moirai, along with the Ananke, to help the Writers. They had eyes of golden green and a mark from Asteria, mother of Hecate and the grandmother of witchcraft.

She rubbed at her temples in exasperation. Great, not only did someone else know she was from the future, she was expected to work with them. Great, just freaking amazing.

"Pansy." a familiar voice called from behind her.

"What do you need, Blaise?" Pansy asked, pushing away her book and turning to focus on him.

In his hand, he held a little leather journal, and Pansy's eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about that.

"Come on, you might as well sit down." she said, kicking out the chair next to her.

He already moved like a predator, she noticed. He practically slinked into the chair, before turning to face her.

Blaise had his serious face on, instead of the joking lighthearted one she had become accustomed to since she came back. Pansy leaned back in her chair, facing him.

"So, I read through the whole thing. Apparently, me of the future was prejudiced. He flirted with a lot of girls, had a lot of sex. He only journaled the bare essentials. At first it was homework and friend drama. Then, girls, grades, family matters, my inheritance. Then there's a gap. He talks about the end of the war, your apartment. The entries stop and then it's just who's died. Pages and pages of what the Dark Lord forces him to do and death. Then he writes a suicide letter, then since he has a hunch about you finding a way to time travel, he writes a letter. To me, directly."

Blaise sat and seemed to be waiting for her to respond. She scowled. This Blaise was pompous, spoiled, stupid. He wasn't her Blaise.

"Well, what do you do you want me to say? It's all true, not much more to it," she snapped.

"He wasn't really clear about details-"

"You don't want to know all of the details. All you need to know is that if you don't help me, our entire way of life will become extinct, and the girl you love is going to die."

It was happening again. Pansy didn't feel eleven anymore. She felt dangerous and tired. She felt tired a lot lately.

"Well, I guess I'll help then," Blaise said. He stopped, then asked, "The journal never said a lot about her. I never put down anything that would identify her, I didn't even call her by her name. Who was she?"

Blaise recognized the secretive smile that spread across her face. He could suddenly understand why his older self had written about her in such affection.

"You'll figure it out."


TOF


Your mother thinks it is unwise for you to come home just yet, as she does not want to have to worry about your health.

Pansy read over and over again her parents justification for not letting her come home for Christmas. Apparently she had caused enough ripples to make her mother sick as well. She sighed, and put the folded up letter into her pocket of her pants.

"What was that about?" Weasley asked from where he sat next to her on the couch. She gave him a withering look. The boys absolutely refused to give up, especially after she saved Harry. From Snape, if they were to be believed. Now both of them owed her a life debt and both of them were kissing their asses and both of them still didn't quite understand what they did was wrong on every level. And this was coming from a former Death Eater.

"My parents don't want me to come home for Christmas. My mother has fallen ill," she replied. Weasley lit up, delighted she was even talking to him. No, delighted someone who was such a hero was talking to him. Someone who had saved his life, someone who was proof that evil could be reformed. Not her.

She bit her lip and turned back to the notebook she had been working on.

"That's great. Well, I mean, it isn't, but Harry and I are staying for the holidays too. You can celebrate with us."

She almost smiled back but caught herself before it could become anything more than a tiny grin. He caught it, and his smile became even wider.

"Really Ron. Really?"

Weasely sighed and Lavenders voice came from behind them. Pansy looked up to see Ron's ex, future, whatever girlfriend standing above them. Her afro was neatly tidied away in a cute little bun with a large yellow flower. It looked nice.

"Leave it alone, Lavender," he sighed, before turning back to face the fireplace. Lavender bristled, and moved around to stand in front of him.

"What the hell, Ron? I'm the one who told you first that even if she should have been in Slytherin, there was nothing that bad about her besides the fact she was a bitch."

Language, Pansy thought, Sally's voice floating around in her head.

"But you kept saying 'She's evil, she's evil'. So we listened to you. We listened to everything you told us to do. Then you turn around and say you saved her life, she's the defeater of trolls now, savior of Harry, and suddenly everything you told us is null?" Lavender demanded, practically vibrating. Weasley looked her straight in the eye.

"Leave it alone Lavender," Weasley commanded. Pansy felt the magic come and leave before she could even process it. Voice magic. Of course.

Lavender complied and walked away to probably complain to Parvati and Eloise about Weasley's stupidity. But of course they would follow him, of course they would. Because Weasley had voice magic and that was going to manifest into some sort of valuable skill later on.

The Red Death. Their family was famous for having their gift manifest as voice magic when they were young. She just wondered what triggered his.

Weasley was beaming at her again, even as she felt something coil in her stomach.

"So, Christmas?"


TOF


"Pansy! Pansy! Pansy wake up it's Christmas!"

She awoke to two voices shouting from down the staircase. She smashed her pillow over her head, but the voices kept going.

"Lion Snake come on. It's Christmas. Pancakes! Syrup! We know you have a strange fascination with grapes!"

Pansy rolled out of bed, barely stopping to replace her pajama shorts with jeans before she stomped down the steps. The voices continued.

"Pansy! Pansy! Our sweet, delicate flower! Please grace us with your presence!"

"Oh, will you gits shut up?" she snapped when she finally reached the bottom. The twins met her with matching smiles before George took a wrapped parcel from behind his back.

"We wrote our mum about you-"

"She thinks you sound nice-"

"And Percy likes to brag about you-"

"So she made you something."

Pansy pulled the paper off, and the twins shouted;

"A Weasley sweater!"

In her arms was a large, plush dark blue sweater. Cobalt blue, the same color as her eyes. She could see the care that had been taken, and gently stroked her hand over the soft knit. It smelled like cinnamon, and something else she couldn't quite put a name on.

"When our mum heard you were a Parkinson, she already knew what color your eyes would be. She also sent some fudge and wishes you a Happy Christmas." Fred said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

She blinked her eyes and realized her eyes had filled up with tears. She blinked them away, before giving them a watery smile.

"Tell her I said thank you," she said. They smiled at her as she pulled the sweater over her head, and George swept her hair out of the neckline.

Percy chose that moment to come down the steps, looking miserable in his own sweater. Even the wide smile Pansy shot at him didn't brighten him up.

"Ready for breakfast, Perce?" Fred asked in good cheer. Percy's scowl just deepened until it was etched into his face.

"I want to study. I have NEWT's next year, this is a time to be thinking about my future." Percy complained.

"Christmas is a time for family," George said jovially. He swung his arms around his brother. Pansy curled the couch, smiling on the display and breathing in the smell of the cinnamon.

"I want to study, and I don't want to wear this dumb sweater." Percy snapped.

"Appreciate the ones you love," Pansy spoke up from the couch. Her voice was quiet, and Percy looked over to where she sat on the couch. He looked conflicted, but his scowl finally slipped. Percy came over to sit next to her on the couch.

Always an opportunist, Pansy smiled as she languidly stretched out like a cat and laid her head in his lap.

"Comb through my hair," she demanded. She heard and felt Percy sigh in exasperation, but he acquiesced and started running her fingers from her scalp to the ends.

"Now we just have to wait for the boys," Fred declared. Pansy sighed. She could already hear them coming down the steps. Sure enough, they appeared soon after, chatting animatedly about something or another.

George looked at Harry's emerald jumper and smiled. "I see mum makes more of an effort for those who aren't family."

Harry blushed sheepishly before he spotted Pansy on the couch with her head in Percy's lap. He frowned and whispered something to Weasley, whose ears turned red.

Pansy sat up reluctantly. "I guess it's time to go to breakfast," she said, already missing Percy running his fingers through her hair. She would just have to get him to do it again later.


TOF


The day passed by in a blur. The Weasley's seemed content to take her in, so Pansy spent most of the day being dragged around by the twins and placating Percy. It was surprisingly fun, despite the fact Weasley and Harry were always at the corner of her eye, whispering about something when they weren't the victims of the twins shenanigans.

The next day passed much the same. Hogwarts, Pansy decided, wasn't a half bad place to spend the holidays. One would think that the halls would be cold and drafty without students to fill the vast expanse, but instead they were warm, filled with light and heat from the torches with added cheer from the decorations Dumbledore decided to hang.

When she could, she separated from the other Gryffindors and just walked up and down the halls in two pairs of thick socks, letting her mind go clear. For now, everything was okay. She knew Quirrell was possessed and that there was something valuable hidden in the school, but that wasn't something she could worry about right then. Dumbledore obviously knew and wouldn't do anything about it, and no other teachers would do anything without his say so. She knew Potter defeated him, and they couldn't kill Quirrell until he went down there.

So instead she curled up on the couch in the common room, finishing her book about brain development and solving a problem of her own.

Nothing physical came back with you

The Hat meant her brain. All that she carried back with her were her soul and her memories, but there was a soul already here. More importantly, a brain.

The brain of an eleven-year-old, one that thought eleven-year-old thoughts and had eleven-year-old feelings. So, for all intents and purposes, she was eleven, which is why she felt that way most of the time. But she still had the older soul that took over when triggered. These souls were melding together until they were one.

She closed the book with a sigh. It seemed as if she were learning all sorts of new things this past couple of months.

Pansy decided instead to luxuriate in this rare feeling of peace. It was late, and everyone was asleep as far as she knew, though she had no doubt it was likely the twins were experimenting with something in their room.

"Pansy." she bit down a groan.

"Yes, Potter?" Pansy said, turning around. Harry was staring down at her with stars in his eyes, his excitement palpable.

"Come on, we want to show you something amazing."

About fifteen minutes later, Pansy was standing in a room with a giant mirror. She shouldn't have been surprised that Potter had an invisibility cloak all these what did completely surprise her was that they were using it to look in a mirror.

"Come on, stand next to me."

Pansy and Weasley huddled on either side of Harry to peer into the mirror. Pansy didn't see anything but their own reflections staring back at them. Harry seemed frustrated.

"You don't see them?" He asked. Pansy thought the boy had finally gone mad.

"See who?" Pansy asked. She looked back at the mirror. It was large, with the inscription Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi scrawled across the top. It was in no language Pansy knew or recognized.

"My parents," Harry said. Pansy's eyes widened before she looked suspiciously a the mirror. Did it show the dead? What would it show her?

"Here, maybe you have to stand in front of it by yourself," Harry said, bustling them out of the way. Weasley was now in front of it.

"No, I don't see your parents mate. I see, blimey, it's me. But, I'm older. And I'm Head Boy, and the Quidditch Captain!"

Weasley was grinning like a madman. Pansy watched him admire himself in the mirror in confusion. If it didn't show the dead, then what exactly what did it show?

"Come on Pansy, what do you see?" Harry asked, a desperate tinge to his voice. Pansy hesitantly walked over to the mirror, her socked feet barely making a sound. It took a moment for the mirror to change before images began rising from the murky background.

First she appeared. Or at least, a version of her. She was in her twenties again, but that was the only part that she recognized. When she was in her twenties she looked battle hardened, uglier than she was even now. This Pansy was...pretty. Her lips, which she always thought looked overly full, were soft and smiling. Her cheek bones didn't look so sharp and severe, the freckles dotting her nose actually looked cute, and her eyes. Her eyes were the same cobalt blue of all of the Parkinsons, but these eyes were kind and bright, not flat and dead. Her dark hair wasn't shorn to her ears, but long and healthy. She looked...happy. She was dressed in healers garments and seemed to be pregnant.

This Pansy was standing next to a blurry man whose arm was wrapped around her waist lovingly. He held her close and tight, and Pansy from time to time laughed at something he said. Behind her stood Draco and Hermione and Blaise and Daphne and Theo and Sally and so many others. So alive, so happy. And there was little Lilac, with her blue eyes just the same as Pansy and her hair that always looked like spun gold, smiling mischievously at Pansy.

She pressed her hand against the mirror, and the older Pansy pressed back, smiling happily. She bit back the sting of tears that threatened to escape.

"Pansy, what do you see?" Harry asked.

"It's me. Older. I think I have a boyfriend or something. And I'm surrounded by my friends. We're all...happy." Pansy said.

They all stood silent for a moment, pondering their different visions before they went home.


TOF


The next day the boys didn't talk to her. Instead, they holed themselves up in their dormitory and Pansy tried her very best to forget what she had seen the night before.

The twins were luxuriating in the common room in the matching sweaters Sally had slaved over. Percy studied, and Pansy worked on the piles of journals the Ravenclaw's continued to give her, with more and more extravagant instructions.

She stared at the journal in front of her. This one was for a girl named Cho Chang. She wanted it for Herbology. Pansy was having troubles with the voice control. Cho wanted the journal to be able to read back to her what she had written, but all Pansy could manage was a jumbled garble.

Pansy threw down her wand in frustration. If she wasn't able to do this, the older Ravenclaw wouldn't owe her anything. Plus it was a matter of pride. Pansy Parkinson absolutely did not fail at something like this.

She laid her hands on the journal, trying to calm herself as the Weasley's chattered around her. he felt the smooth leather under her hands, flattened and enlarged by the bit of transfiguration she had already done.

As she sat, she felt a niggling sensation at the back of her head. It twisted and bubbled in her mind, swirling around to the forefront of her eyes. Light spun under her eyelids, before forming a relatively rectangular shape.

The rectangle was made of many different colors, scarlet and emerald and viridian. Pansy was entranced by how they all seemed to flow together almost perfectly.

Pansy's attention was drawn by one that didn't seem to fit quite right with the rest, a band of bubblegum pink energy the looked twisted. She took her hands and ran it over with her fingers, detangling and pulling it straight so that it flowed correctly. Once she was satisfied, she took her hands back and admired her work smugly. Now all of the energy was just right.

Coming back to herself, she opened her eyes to look at the journal again. Tapping it, the book cheerfully began to recite what Chang had written in it. She frowned. This...light ability had been happening a lot since she woke up n June.

"That's an impressive bit of magic there."

Pansy looked up to see George eyeing her speculatively. He held in his hands one of the notebooks she had already made for them, which they huddled over all the time. His smile was bright.

"Thanks, George," Pansy said, finally able to put Chang's notebook into the finished pile. He looked at her again, but Pansy was already absorbed in the next notebook.

She worked for hours, barely acknowledging the portrait door opening and closing, then opening again about an hour later. Harry came in, looking sad and speculative. He passed by her couch without a word, before stopping just at the foot of the steps.

"Dumbledore is moving the mirror tomorrow, just in case you wanted to know."

Pansy hummed, feigning disinterest even as her hands paused over a color changing spell.

"G'nite," he muttered. Pansy heard his padded feet make their way up the steps and tried to pretend she had never thought of anything except the notebooks sitting in front of her right then. It helped shut out thoughts of other things.

The next day went much the same. The boys ignored her all day as they huddled in her room, and the older Weasleys kept her company when she wasn't trying to finish the notebooks.

That night, the portrait didn't open at all. Pansy remembered what Harry had said the night before, and felt herself fill with an unexplainable bout of panic. She needed to see herself, happy, just this one last time.

She stuffed the rest of the notebooks into her bag and snuck out of the portrait.

It was remarkably easy to make her way to the classroom. Hogwarts wasn't very well patrolled. The classroom door was unlocked, and she slipped into the room to see the mirror still standing. Dumbledore was standing in front of it.

"Miss Parkinson, hello. I suppose it isn't surprising to see you here."

He turned around to look at her standing there. She nodded once at him.

"Hello, Dumbledore."

He moved over so that she was at the center and the vision from before flooded the surface. Her older self winked at her, and she wondered if any of what she saw was even possible.

"Do you know what this mirror does, Miss Parkinson?" She shook her head no. "It drives men mad."

"This is the Mirror of Erised, and it shows the viewers deepest desires. That is why Mr. Potter, raised as an orphan, craves for his parents and a sense of belonging. That's why Mr. Weasley, constantly overshadowed by his brothers and all of their accomplishments, ignored in favor of his sister as a baby, sees himself finally recognized as something great. We want to be wanted.

"You, see yourself. Beautiful and happy and truly loved. You came back for love, and I believe you would die for it as well."

Pansy looked at the old man. At this moment, he didn't look all powerful. He looked sad and defeated, a look that was all too familiar to her.

"When I look in this mirror I see two people, alive and happy. Two people I almost destroyed the entire world over. The power that love has, and what you would do to keep it, is quite remarkable."

Pansy looked into the mirror and thought of the impossible. Of that many people, really and truly loving her. Friends instead of allies, family instead of nothing. The only people who had ever truly cared about her were Blaise, Draco, Lilac, and her parents. But her parents love went away in the end, her sister was unborn, and she lost Blaise and Draco. She had no one, the weight of all of her secrets and pain dragged her down. She had no one, no one to love and no one who loved her back. She felt the pressure of Dumbledore's hand fall onto her shoulder.

"You may not trust me Miss Parkinson, but we fight for similar things. We do it all for those we care about. But you must remember that no matter how hard things get, how terrible the world seems, how many times you are hurt, you must keep your heart open. That is the only way you will ever be able to be loved."

Pansy looked in the mirror again, and this time, saw two unfamiliar people. A young, handsome blonde man with dark twinkling eyes and a charming smile, and a young teenager with the ice blue eyes of Dumbledore and long, tumbling auburn hair. She smiled shyly at Pansy.

Her dream showed up as well. Her, happy and beautiful and loved. She couldn't help but notice in all of their happiness, there was an old man and a little girl with tears pouring down their cheeks.


TOF


The next morning she woke up on the couch. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and her eyes still puffy from the night before. She remembered sitting down in the common room, but not putting the warm quilt she now felt around her shoulders. It smelled like broom polish, and the treacle tarts Harry liked to sneak out of the Hall.

She blinked blurrily, and the faces of Weasley and Harry came into her line of sight. They were smiling brightly.

"Look Pansy, we made you a wooden friendship charm. We know it's kinda girly, but we figured since you are a girl that would be alright. We sent one to Sally and Hermione too. We even made Draco a comb!" Weasley rambled, holding out a misshapen piece of wood.

"I talked to Dumbledore about the mirror. He said it showed our deepest desire. All you wanted was love. You kept trying to say that we didn't understand why what we did was wrong, but we get it now. You have desires, and you're a person. Everyone is, and we hurt people. So I mean..." Harry trailed off sheepishly.

She realized that this was probably what they had been working on. It was kinda heart shaped and had the letter P in the middle, filled in with gold metallic paint. She clutched it in her hand, feeling the hardness dig into her palm.

For a moment, she was tempted to throw it right back at them. Pansy was a master at thinking of a million insults that she could hurt them with.

A vision of Erised Pansy floated across her vision. If she ever wanted that, she would have to keep her heart open.

The boys were still looking at her hopefully. They would be great men someday, or they were great men when she knew them. That meant there had to be the potential already inside of them.

She tried smiling and found it spread easier than she thought.

"Um, thanks," she said, clutching the charm in her hand. "I appreciate this."

YES THIS IS DONE. YES. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I hope you all liked it. SS should only take three or four more chapters.

HopeWithinDarkness - Welp, he read it. Hopefully, now Draco will use a bit less gel on his hair.

KodeV - Hopefully this chapter explained partially why they listen to him. Thankfully, unlike the Marauders Ron actually has the ability to learn that what he did was wrong. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't even learn after years of prison.

Guest - Well they both have their reasons. Hermione only does the things she does because she's provoked, Ron to maintain his pride.

- Here is is. Thank you!

Guest - they may or may not get back to that sort of relationship, though I do love their sibling bond.

Guest (Jess) - I would never do Harmony. I'm afraid I just can't see it. They're too deep into the sibling zone. Harry is extremely loyal to Ron, almost to a fault during the book.

Kalyxia - Thank you so much!