Disclaimer. I would like to say thanks. Thanks to the Higher Power. Thanks to J. K. Rowling for leaving all of us in a tizzy after she ended the Harry Potter Books. I'm grateful for creating such a need in me, Ms. Rowling. Otherwise, I would have not found fan fiction and began this journey of telling a different story with the lovable and hateful characters. Thank you for being so cool as to let us play in your sandbox.
My gratitude to my mother and my son. I love you guys. You inspire me with your love of movies, stories, and romance.
A HUGE thank you to Marc The Unruly. Marc, thanks for joining me on this journey. I could have not made sense of so many details, without you, Marc.
Trolls and hateful reviews have their special place.
That's it. Enjoy!
She opened her eyes and wondered, 'Why am I still breathing?' She looked at her surroundings and realised the room looked like anything but an infirmary or a hideout point.
It looked like a little girl's room. 'What?' She questioned in silence.
Jane got up and noticed she had reverted to her childlike form. ''What? How? When?' She thought to herself as she got close to her vanity mirror,' What the actual fuck,' was the only coherent thought as the image of her favourite storybook heroine, a tragic heroine, stared back from the reflecting surface.
She went to the bathroom, relieved her bladder, washed her hands and face, and brushed her teeth. She then dampened her mane of hair and began styling it into a single braided pigtail and then into a chignon with the help of a new pencil.
Jane closed her eyes and tried to recall the last thing she did before waking up in this young body.
Memory begins.
Assassin code Jane and her partner Assassin code Jamie infiltrated the home of a drug lord. However, Drug lord number 80 had surveillance drones, and they sensed their heat signature.
The result was target practice for the assassins on the job. Jamie was taking time out after the mission. Jane wanted to get home, drink her beer, and re-read that saucy novel, but probably, she would shower, have dinner and go to bed.
"It was a setup," said Jamie with sarcasm.
"Oh, god, what gave it away?" Questioned Jane.
"That imbecile decided that we made him look bad the last time, and this time, he sent us to this lovely setting," added Jamie.
"Well fuck, I guess I will have to bring back the black book and write the bastard's name in it, he earned it," said Jane.
"Ah fuck Jane, I wanted to go to the convention," lamented Jamie.
"Well fuck Jamie, I wanted to read some saucy erotica, but we can't always get what we want, now do we?" Retorted Jane.
Jamie noticed the light pointing at Jane and tried to push her to take the hit. Jane did a half circle and returned in a ballerina move back to the target and was shot right in her chest. Jamie looked up and shot back, killing the sniper and then a second guard. He pulled Jane into the shadows and began tearing her clothes off to assess the damage. He took his facial gear off, and Jane noticed Jamie's eyes tearing up as it dawned on him that she was going to die.
"I must be dreaming the toughest bastard of the job is crying, What's wrong Jamie?" Questioned Jane.
"You fucking bitch, you couldn't take the hint, you had to get shot, didn't you? I tried to put you out of the range, and you volunteered to be a mark. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Asked the man with sad eyes.
"Oh bite me, Jamie, do you think I would let you die on my watch?" Asked Jane.
Jane felt her body shift as her blood drained. The pain gained momentum, and her heartbeat decreased. It was clear she was going to die. But her partner asked a question. "Why ask why? It was you, I couldn't let you die, you moron, you owe me the Harry Potter hardcover collection," replied Jane with a small grin.
"I love you, you witch," added Jamie in a lament.
"Well, when we meet again, you'll make it up to me, I love you too, you moron," She began trembling. "Jamie, could you hold me a little bit more, It's getting cold," said Jane with a final breath.
Memory ends.
Jane, now Hermione, teared up and wanted to cry herself to sleep again. The tears still made an appearance, and her brain screamed. What was a 35-year-old trained assassin doing in a little girl's body? A girl that looked a lot like Hermione J. Granger? Really? Wait, the Hermione J. Granger? The witch best friend of one Harry Potter? Wait, wait, wait, she was dreaming, right? Magic was real? Only one way to find out. Hermione's first spell was 'Reparo' She took the pencil out of her hair. Broke it, and then visualised the item returning to its original state a second before and felt her body enveloped by a strange sense of static energy then she focused on the pencil and verbalised. 'Reparo' The time stopped and a dim blue light emerged from the tips of her fingers where she was holding the pencil and unmade the breaking of the pencil.
When done, time continued, and she had her pencil in one piece. Jane was trained to not show any changes in her mood or emotion. She had joined the service and gone through the training. At the moment though, she couldn't hide the wide smile that stretched her face.
"Okay, this is wild, magic is real, fuck! magic is real!" she hissed.
She put the pencil back into her hair. Changed clothes and checked the nearest clock. Then the calendar. July 31, 1989. Only 6:30 in the morning. She was nine years old and a month and 20 days from turning 10. According to the story. McGonagall would make her appearance in the summer of 1990. It was still the 1980's, crap. So many things going on. She needed to run. Concentrate on the task ahead of her. One step, then another. Fuck! Today was Harry's birthday. She needed to see if Harry Potter lived in 4 Privet Drive or not. One thing was certain. The original story was going to hell. She would make sure of it.