-8-
Harry Potter: The Witch of Africa.
By TimeTraveller-1900.
Nala groaned as she woke up; even in her new incarnation, old habits just refused to die, no matter what, flinching at the weight of her pregnancy. Groaning, she mustered the energy to get out of bed, a light-dark purple negligee covering her body; in the dawn light coming through the windows protected by the wards which stopped muggle burglars from trying to get inside, among other things, her dark chocolate skin gleamed.
Nala rubbed her belly, smiling down lovingly at her unborn child before she walked over to the window. Nala had moved to the Caribbean a few years ago from Africa, shortly after she had left Uagadou. As she opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony, she sat down in her chair.
"Mixie," she called.
A middle-aged House Elf appeared. "Mistress Nala calls," the House Elf said.
Nala smiled. No matter what she had told them, the elves continually called her Mistress Nala; it had become fairly nice, really.
"Yes, I'd like some water, please," Nala smiled.
Mixie disappeared. A moment later she came back with a tall glass of water. Nala took it gratefully. "Thank you, Mixie," she said.
"What would mistress like for breakfast?"
Nala considered. When she had moved from Africa to the Caribbean, she had told the elves she wanted to do some of the work to keep her occupied and to also teach her unborn child they could not rely on the House Elves for everything. She also hoped to stop any of the truly bad habits many had towards House Elves.
But as her pregnancy had blossomed, she had found it harder and harder to do anything, and so she'd found herself relying on them for help. It was something she hoped to break when she delivered the baby. "I don't know, yet," she apologised, "but I just want to enjoy the sunlight; I'll come into the kitchen soon."
The House Elf vanished, and Nala was alone, leaving her with her thoughts, while she gently sipped from her glass.
-8-
Nala had a secret. She had once been a wizard, although nobody was likely to believe her. And if she told anybody about which wizard she had actually been, they really would not believe her.
Nala had once been Harry Potter. But of course, if anyone did find out the truth, a truth known only to herself and to her House Elves, who were from the Potter family, then they would do everything they could to prove it, but they would find nothing of course. But it was true. Nala had been Harry Potter once.
And understandably, she didn't want to tell anyone about it.
Harry Potter had been a boy who'd grown up hated by a family called the Dursleys who forced him to do virtually everything in their home, ranging from the cooking, the cleaning, the gardening from the moment he was able to walk and talk. The Dursleys had a son, a moron of a boy called Dudley, and they raised him to become a bully, who was spoilt by them; everything he wanted, they'd give it to him on a plate. Harry was related to the Dursleys on his mother's side; Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister, and they hated each other, at the time Harry genuinely had no idea why that was, but Petunia was petty and vindictive. She claimed Harry's mother was a whore, and it took some time before he found a diary to discover the meaning behind the word.
Young and impressionable, Harry had believed it. Over time he grew to resent his parents, for getting themselves killed in a car crash, and leaving him alone with such people. He would have been happier with living in an orphanage. At least there, he would have a chance of having a better family instead of what he was forced to deal with.
Weird things happened around Harry, especially whenever Dudley played one of his stupid 'Harry Hunting' games. Teachers wigs turned blue, he ended up on the school roof..whenever these moments happened, Petunia and Vernon would look at him as if he was a demon. Years passed, and Harry began mastering his powers, discovering they were emotionally driven. Harry had done his best to hide his powers, his intelligence. Being too smart was not a good thing in the Dursley's house. The Dursleys did not like people smarter than them, although they didn't exactly make their lives enriched. They never went to the library. They never encouraged Dudley to study hard. There were no books in their house, nothing.
Books were anathema to them, and indeed, Harry had found that Dudley hated the library, which made it the perfect place to hide. Knowledge was power. He discovered he could change his shape. But one of the biggest issues Harry had was one simple question.
Why was he still living with the Dursleys? It was just so bizarre; he and his relatives despised one another, and they would both mutually be happy if they just walked away from each other. So why was he still here? Harry kept a diary of the times the weird things happened around him, and he began using it to record his plans to escape. Harry had decided to wait until the Dursleys went off on holiday, which would give him the chance to be with Mrs Figg, the mad old cat lady, who was a few grapes short of a bunch.
Harry went through with his escape plan, the plan he had spent months working on….and then he was back at the Dursleys. Harry had written and recorded dozens of entries, he should have escaped. So what happened?
It had been a long time ago, but Nala still remembered the bitterness she had felt when she had discovered how her memories had just been interfered with. After a year of Hogwarts, and discovering how much of a madhouse the place was, Harry had gone into his second year…and almost at once, he was accused of releasing a giant snake on the castle. Harry had come dangerously close to leaving the school, then, but during that period he had already entered the Room of Requirement and discovered the one thing he'd always wanted.
A way of having a second chance of life. So many people went through life wishing for one, but Harry Potter had discovered it was possible, using an ancient magical ritual called essence transfer. All he needed to do was have a second body nearby, and transfer his soul into it.
Nala smiled as she remembered those times.
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The End.
