{re-written/edited 6/5/14}
Full Summary:
It's a fan's wildest dream to experience the wizarding world of Harry Potter on their own, right? So what if you were given the chance, what would you do? Better yet, what would you do if you woke up to find out you were no longer yourself but someone else? Someone whose personality and beliefs were clearly the opposite from your own? This is the story of one girl's rude awakening into such a situation. Having the power of knowledge of the future on her side, will she be able to stand on the sidelines and watch the story develop before her own eyes? Or will she take advantage and help the winning side? Not such a hard choice, is it? But remember, having the knowledge of the future can be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands...
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NOTE!
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This story will be based on realistic situations. What would REALLY happen if a girl were to appear in the Harry Potter world. What do you think will REALLY happen to someone who knows all about the "future"? Think the OC will have a kick-ass adventure alongside the characters without any real harm befalling on her? Think about it. Canon characters will remain canon, but with a touch of realism added to their characters and so on. This story will contain mature themes; dark themes that I am sure will not be everyone's cup of tea. And by dark themes, I mean 'the dark actions a human being can inflict on others.' I tend to be descriptive of such things. Why? Because reality is incredibly harsh, for a lack of a better word.
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I: in esse
{in existence}
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Calculus…. exam.… today…
I stirred a little, inhaling deeply.
Term paper for Psych due Wednesday…
I stirred again as the blanket that had been covering me slipped off my body.
Ten pages… find subject…
Great, what better way to rouse myself up from the little sleep I had than by going through a mental checklist – then again, that was also one of the ways I would lull myself to sleep. Funny way of doing things, but it was better than counting sheep. Lovely, I thought as I let out a deep sigh into my pillow. Just because my brain was ready to tackle the day didn't mean I was ready to follow its lead. No, not after I studied until one in the morning for my exam. Besides, math class wouldn't start until noon, so I had the whole morning to waste away in dreamland.
Did I turn on the alarm?
As I turned my body to my left side to get a view of my clock on the nightstand, I noticed the sheer white curtains that billowed in front of my bedroom window. Wind. As if to confirm the presence of the element, I felt the coldness caress my exposed legs. I would not had slept with my window open but being that it was California and August, the weather was not exactly cold.
Hot days always led to warm nights… so why is there a cold wind?
While my brain was alert enough to think of the importance of the day, for some strange reason the rest of my senses were not exactly up to par.
Slowly I sat up, perplexed at the sudden drop of temperature in my room which the rest of my body soon registered with a slight shiver up my spine. As I went to sleep in shorts and a tank, it was logical that the cold temperature would get to me if I wasn't covered up. I leaned over my bed, ready to pick up the blanket from the floor, only to stop halfway. As half of my body hung over the edge of the bed, I stared down at what appeared to be some kind of textured wooden floor. Long gone was the light gray carpet that covered my bedroom floor, one I'd been accustomed to seeing for the last four years of my life in this apartment.
As if in slow motion, my sight trailed from the floor up to my hand that clutched the blanket; instead of seeing a familiar light blue fabric, I held a pink one.
I dropped it.
Okayyy…
I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
There was a logical explanation for this; I somehow must had been moved to a different bedroom and building all together. I was not a sleepwalker – that I knew of – so it was unlikely that I just got up and left. I was a heavy sleeper, so it would explain why I didn't feel anything, no movements, no nothing. Nada.
Sure, makes sense, right?
I could not believe it.
Still over the edge of the bed, I turned my head to the spot where I had propped my light blue Jansport backpack last night. As it contained my important schoolwork, everyone in this apartment knew that it should not be moved without me knowing of it.
Yet there was no backpack.
The foot of the bed frame was not metal either.
"Wood," I uttered under my breath.
Forgetting the position I was in, I pushed against the edge of the bed, only to feel myself tumble onto the cold, hard floor. Thankfully, the height difference wasn't too great, but I ended up smacking the side of my face against the floor.
Ouch.
I allowed a couple of minutes to pass by before I pushed myself off the ground and into a sitting position. The bed – a canopy – obstructed my view of the room, but I still had more than a glimpse of the decorative style of the bedroom. Had I been in a much better position, as in knowing where I was, I would have taken in and admired the décor, which I could only describe as Victorian.
It was as if I had gone to bed in the modern world and woken up to a past era; long gone were any signs of my electronics and wall decorations – in their place were the intricate pieces of furniture that very much went with the Victorian theme. There was a tri-fold vanity; I even had a partial view of a chandelier that did not look out of place. Whoever was the interior designer of this bedroom had captured the look of the bygone era.
Another gust of wind brushed against my back, and I turned in time to catch the hem of the white sheer curtain before it blew onto my face. It was then that I noticed the window was wide open, just as I had left it last night, except for one thing: this window had no screen. As I looked past it, I saw a gray sky as a rush of wind brush against my face. While I was fond of the cold weather, this was a bit too cold for my taste. As I moved onto my knees, I took hold of the windowpane and started to close it, but I paused halfway. Just like the moment that I saw the bedroom floor, what I saw struck me as incredibly odd. No, not odd but…
"What the hell?" I muttered as I pushed the window open, ignoring the cold air that rushed in.
Instead of seeing the buildings and telephone poles I was familiar with, I saw trees. Lots. Of. Trees. I could also see that I was on the second floor of the house. As I held the windowsill for support, I leaned my head out to see what appeared to be a garden below and a small treaded path that led away from the house and towards the forest.
Huh… there's a forest in the backyard…
I slowly pushed myself onto my feet, closed the window and turned to face the bedroom.
Bedroom. House. Forest.
This was not my home; hell, this wasn't even the city I lived in, and by the looks of it, there was nothing of mine in this room. Nothing to declare that I, Maria Lopez, had occupied this room. No shoes, no sweater, there was nothing of mine. I mean, if had I been moved, wouldn't there be some kind of evidence? Even so, I would have been told; I wasn't exactly small enough to be carried around like I'd been when I was a child, nor were my parents strong enough to do it now. Now if it were my friends…
I blew into my hands to keep them warm and it was here that I noticed them. There was something different, but I couldn't put a finger on it – no pun intended. I wiggled my fingers and looked over my hands, and while they looked perfectly normal, there was something slightly off about them.
Here I am wondering what is wrong with my hands when there's something much more important to tend to such as figuring why I'm here…
I was out of it; it would explain why – while being aware of it – I wasn't reacting the way I should be. Oh sure, I noticed the obvious, but I was placated and unperturbed that I was so nonchalant about it. This, in itself, was just wrong. Why was I not reacting the way I should be? I mean, I knew I should have been worried and should have gone out that door in search of someone to explain what happened. But I wasn't. I just stood here. Reminded me actually of the time I accidentally took more than the recommended dosage of Vicodin.
Drugged….
I covered my mouth, cutting off my gasp.
It explained everything. Well, the feelings, at least.
My lack of response to the strange surrounding and just the overall emotions.
I was so cool…
Heck, I even thought my hands looked strange. Something someone would have said had they been under the influence.
"Definitely drugged," I uttered to myself.
I had never taken any of the illegal or recreational drugs out there, and I had never gotten drunk in my life – it just wasn't part of who I was. Which only left that som-
There was a soft knock on the door.
Soft knock, not a hard knock; it was as if someone knew I was already awake but didn't want to appear rude.
Had someone come in earlier and checked on me?
I said nothing but cautiously walked halfway towards the door.
What was I being cautious for?
There was another set of soft knocks; again, I said nothing and stayed in place. The person didn't sound hurried but they were certainly being respectful. Who co-
"Missus, it's eight thirty-seven; please hurry or Missus be late for the train," a squeaky voice came from the other side of the door.
Missus? What's with the squeaky, cartoonish voice? Someone was playing a joke on me; they purposely butchered up their sentence to sound pathetically ridiculous.
Another set of soft knocks on the door; I scoffed under my breath.
I got it; I was being pranked, but by whom? I'd no idea,but there was no way someone sane would go through all the trouble to bring me out here. Definitely no trouble considering I'd been drugged. What's worse was the fact that my parents must have been on the joke because clearly, as light sleepers as they were, they would have known.
…and if this was meant to be a surprise…
I couldn't help but wince; I liked surprises, but not to this extent.
I walked up to the door quietly; if I wanted to catch the person in action, I would have to be quiet about it. Wait until they knocked and th-
Knock…
I swung the door open, expecting to see someone standing there with his or her fist still in the air but instead I saw a wall. "What th-"
"Mixi would like for Missus to be ready so Missus can have her breakfast."
Not bothering with right or left, I looked down, and what I saw made me stumble back in shock.
Standing no higher than my knees was a thing wearing what appeared to be some kind of white cloth; its spindly arms hung limply at its side, its oversized eyes set in a large head looked up to me…curiously? Frankly, the sight was not pretty.
"What the hell are you?"
It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but the thing wriggled its stringy fingers nervously and looked up to me.
"Why, Mixi is a house-elf, Missus."
Note:
Yup - I'm picking up on this story again :)