Chapter Text
Death is inevitable. This statement is not an opinion but a fact. Everything that begins eventually comes to an end. And the same is true for life.
I’ve never thought of this during my first life. I never had to. I was born in the year 2000 and my name was Aurélie. I belonged to an old French family with generational wealth and my biggest worry was choosing the right clothes for my numerous outings. I was provided with everything I would ever want and attended the most prestigious schools – not that I needed to as I would have never really had to actually work. It was a good carefree life.
Until it came to an abrupt end.
I was out drinking with a group of friends and we were having the time of our lives. After we had our fun and left the club we decided to go back by car. None of us really thought much of it, one – because we were too drunk – two – because it was a common occurrence for us, really. We gathered around and concluded that Marc was the most sober – or rather the least drunk – of us and so he was the one to take the wheel.
He somehow drove us into the Seine, ending my happy 25 years long first life and beginning my misery.
My second life took me a few hundred years into the past, somewhere in present day India – I never learned the exact date and location. My name was Ayesha and I belonged to one of the lower castes of our society. Furthermore, as a girl I barely had any rights. My family barely cared about me or my four sisters. At the age of 5 – FIVE – I was promised to our slightly wealthier neighbour.
They married me off 2 years later.
The “marriage” was the most dreadful, dehumanising experience I ever lived through. My “husband” was aggressive, possessive and merciless. After a few months I became a shell of what I used to be. The only thing that kept me semi-sane were my memories of my first life though at that point I actually hated it. I felt that I’d rather go insane than continue living like that. The mess that my brain was at the time has concluded that fighting my way out of there was the only option.
I sneaked a knife into the bedroom and jumped him when he came in. I managed to stab him in the leg however it wasn’t enough. I only managed to make him angrier than he’d ever been. Things that he’d done to me that day still sometimes haunt me in my nightmares even now, two lives later. The only good thing that came out of my stunt was that I finally managed to die. After he was done with me, I was a wreck.
I didn’t live past the night.
Compared to my second life my third one started out pretty promising. As a newborn baby I could barely see and my mind was in a state of confusion but based on the colours, shapes and sounds I concluded that I must’ve been born in fairly modern times and in an actual hospital. I hoped that this time I had a chance at peaceful life that would allow me to forget the trauma of my second life. Unfortunately, however, my hope was quickly shattered.
My name in my third life was Zofia and I was born on the 1st of September 1932 in Warsaw, Poland. On the day I was supposed to celebrate my seventh birthday all hell broke loose and the Second World War has begun. The war was a traumatic experience on a completely different level. My parents were both teachers and during the German occupation they organised secret gatherings for children to teach them in Polish. At some point they were discovered and sent away somewhere one a train, never to be heard from again. After that I stayed with my aunt for a while and later, I joined the Grey Ranks – a paramilitary youth resistance movement that originated from the Scouts – just in time to participate in the Warsaw Uprising as a combat medic.
At first, we thought that we had a chance. With the Soviets advancing in the East and the Allies in the West we were sure that the Germans would have no choice but to give in. When we saw the Soviet troops on the East side of the Vistula, we celebrated. But they did not help. They simply waited. And at that point the Germans were under no illusions that they will be able to keep the city so they decided to burn it to the ground. They worked methodically with explosives and flamethrowers destroying my beautiful birth city house by house until nothing remained and killing – or worse - everyone they managed to get their hands on. And only after the Uprising Command surrendered and the Germans were done with their purge did the Soviets advance.
They claimed to be liberators but they treated us no better than the Germans did - plundering what was left, killing whoever resisted and assaulting women. And by their hands I met my third end. There were three of them and the memories of my last moments were etched into my mind as deeply as those of my “husband” from my second life.
And so, I moved on to my fourth life.
Much like the previous one, this time I was also born in a time close to my first life. First months after birth are always the hardest as during them, I have very little control over my body. When you are a newborn baby your eyes can’t see properly, you can’t as much as roll around. You have to be fed and constantly taken care of. Luckily for me I don’t really keep all the memories from these first months. I may be retaining my memories across multiple lives but my body and brain still have to go through all their development stages. I also don’t keep too many abilities such as knowledge of languages. I can’t properly explain how I can possess the memories of my past lives while not being able to understand any language. I just know the meaning behind those memories on some subconscious level and only after I properly learn a language, can I properly interpret them.
This time however I kept a few hard-to-understand memories from soon after my birth. I remembered flashes of multicoloured light and screams. Then someone grabbed me and I felt as if I were squeezed through a rubber tube and then I felt cold wind on my cheeks. Shortly after that I was found on the stairs of a hospital in London. I was later told that the only piece of information about me they had was a note stating my name and date of birth. The police tried to find my parents who supposedly abandoned me there but to no avail.
And so, I was left in care of the local authorities who placed me in a foster family – the Clarkes. I have to admit that the Clarkes were good people and the first five years of my life with them were a bliss. Except for me they also fostered two boys around my age by the names of Richard and Eddie with both of whom I got along pretty well. Perhaps I would’ve still lived with them as their adopted daughter if not for what happened on that one fateful evening.
I was walking down the hallway passing the stairs when Eddie who was playing with Richard suddenly bumped into me causing me to fall down the stairs. In that very moment I didn’t really register the pain. No, my mind was focused on something else. Sheer terror swept across me as a single thought passed through my mind ‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die and lose this good life and suffer again’. For a few seconds that was all I could think of. And then I noticed Eddie standing atop of the stairs looking down on me with scared expression. I stood up and looked at him. After noticing that Eddie put on an uncertain smile. And then something within me snapped. ‘Does he not understand what he just did?! Does he not understand what could’ve happened?! That I could’ve died?!’. I suddenly felt an amount of fury unlike anything before.
Suddenly Eddie jerked forward, as if grabbed by his collar by an invisible hand and fell down the stair towards me. When he landed, I couldn’t control myself. I started kicking and beating him all while yelling at him. Richard, scared of what he saw run for the Clarkes and they had to forcefully drag me away from Eddie to stop me from hitting him. He ended up with several broken bones, a mild concussion and over twenty stitches.
The Clarkes were horrified but at first, they tried to talk this through with me. Unfortunately, ever since that event I wasn’t the same as before. I became snappy and assertive. I looked at everyone with suspicion and if Richard or Eddie tried as much as touch me, I would turn violent. And thus, the Clarkes ended up releasing their custody over me.
I spent a few months at a children’s home until I was placed in another foster family. This time with no other kids around. Because of my misbehaviour, I was expecting to be placed into a home governed by discipline with harsh rules that I’d have to follow. Surprisingly the Lynches turned out to be a very understanding, caring and kind couple. They gave me a lot of space to adjust and ignored my initial fits of rage. After a few months I calmed down a lot and a lot of my aggressive impulses became things of the past. I’d later find out that the Lynches used to have a daughter with anger issues who died in an accident and specifically requested for custody over me after hearing about my circumstances.
A year later they ended up actually adopting me and thus I became Nicole Eileen Lynch. From then on, my life was very normal and full of happiness as we bonded and became a real family. However, the normality was not meant to last. On the 1st of August 1987 – the day of my seventh birthday – I saw something unreal.
We were taking a walk around the neighbourhood when I heard a loud bang. Surprised by it I jumped and looked around for the source of the noise and noticed that no one else seemed to have heard it. And after looking for a few seconds I saw it – a purple triple-decker bus pulled over further down the street and a man dressed in very unusual set of clothes pocketed a weird stick and boarded the bus. After that, the bus suddenly burst into full speed and… disappeared with a loud bang.
I stood there for a good thirty seconds until my parents started to ask me whether I’m alright and if something happened. I brushed them off saying that it’s nothing but a stream of thoughts was rushing inside of my head. I remembered a book series I was obsessed with in my first life about wizard and witches and the chosen boy who lived. ‘No, that’s impossible’ I thought but then I recalled an old memory of my fight with Eddie and I remembered how he was suddenly jerked down the stairs towards me. ‘Does that mean… magic is real? Am I really inside of the Harry Potter universe? And does that mean I can do magic too?’. Deep in such thoughts I came to a sudden realisation. ‘If magic exists and I am capable of utilising it… That means that overcoming death might be possible. I might not ever have to go through death and rebirth again. I can live forever and never suffer again!’
In the following days I focused on recalling as many details about Harry Potter books and magic as I could. I remembered most of the main plot and some trivia. Luckily the memories from my previous lives seem to be somehow enhanced and protected from decay, otherwise I doubt I could recall anything from a book that I’ve read over twenty years earlier. That did not mean I remembered everything though. My recollection lacked details. I knew the main events but I couldn’t recall specific times at which some of them occurred. With some of them I wasn’t too sure about the order of events as well. Another thing I wasn’t sure about is whether I was inside of the film version or the book version of the story.
After recalling and writing down the most important things I focused on preparing a plan for what I wanted to and should do. Being born in August of 1980 meant that if I received a Hogwarts letter I would be going there at the same time as Harry and all the other important characters. That complicates my life a lot because it means that I will at the very least be partially affected by all the crazy stuff that’s going to happen throughout Harry’s years at school as well as Voldemort’s return.
I concluded that my first and foremost priority should be achieving immortality. As far as I knew there were only two possible ways of doing so. First was getting my hands on the Sorcerer’s Stone – surprisingly possible because as it happened it would be at the school when I started it. The obvious problem was that to reach the stone I’d have to go through all the challenges set up by the professors. The three-headed dog, the killer plant and the potions seemed doable however I wasn’t too sure about the flying and the chess ones. They would certainly be tricky. Then there is the fight with the troll. I doubted that any first-year student would be able to do it on their own. And then finally there was the Mirror and that’s where I would certainly fail. If I could remember correctly – only the one who does not want to use the stone can get it. And I certainly did not fit that description. I could try befriending Harry Ron and Hermione and get the stone through them but that approach creates its own set of problems. And then there is Dumbledore whom I’d have to somehow fool to keep the Stone.
No, the Stone was a no-go.
Horcrux it is. Creating a horcrux however was not a simple task and even if we were to ignore all the difficult and dark magic it involves there was one more problem – it required me to kill someone to create it. Would I be capable of doing that? I played with this thought for a while and came to a conclusion that at some points in my two previous lives I’ve already mustered the resolve necessary for such action. I simply needed to find the right – or rather wrong – person and a justifiable reason. Reason other than my long-term survival that is.
With that figured out I started planning out what I wanted my school life to be. First of all, my house. After thinking about it I concluded that there was a very high risk of me being sorted into Slytherin. After all what bigger ambition is there than to live forever? But that shouldn’t be a problem. I could simply ask the Sorting Hat to put me into another house. As much as I liked and sometimes even identified myself with Slytherin being sorted there created more problems than it helped to resolve. I could hardly find trustworthy friends among them and their society is very hostile to outsiders such us myself.
Then there are the subjects. As far as I recalled in the first year there were transfiguration, charms, defence against the dark arts, potions, herbology, history of magic, astronomy and flying. I assumed that my first priority should be the defence against the dark arts and charms, followed by transfiguration. Potions and herbology could also prove useful however to benefit from these you don’t really need to be good at them yourself. You can simply have someone else take care of them for you. I couldn’t be bothered by the history of magic and astronomy.
Flying on the other hand… It felt tempting. I always had this dream to experience it. It seemed exciting. Dangerous, but exciting. As much as my mind was telling me that it would be an unnecessary risk factor, I couldn’t shake off that feeling that if I didn’t at the very least try to play quidditch I’d regret that decision for the rest of my life. And given that surprisingly that’s one of the few things I could actually try to prepare myself for – to a degree – I decided to give it a try. All it required me to do is to do my best to stay in shape and ask my parents to sign me up for handball practise – as I felt that it’s the closest thing there is in the muggle world to playing quidditch at the very least as a chaser. And the position of Chaser was the most realistic for me. Almost all of the seekers are major characters so no matter the house getting their position would be too much of a hustle. As a tiny girl the position of a beater was out of the question and playing a keeper really doesn’t seem the least bit interesting to me.
Another thought bugging me was whether or not I should involve myself in the plot. Theoretically if I let it be as it was meant to be everything would resolve itself however I wasn’t sure if that was an option anymore as simply my very existence could be a big enough variable to derail it. And even if I have already decided to become a dark witch myself that didn’t mean that the existence of Voldemort was in my favour. Quite the contrary actually. I was pretty sure that he would see someone like me as more of a threat than an ally. And then again, I knew nothing about my blood status so he and his followers might as well come after my when they take over during my seventh year.
In the end I decided to let the matter rest until I found out more about my place in the story.
And so, I dedicated myself to preparation. I spent necessary time at school went to my handball practises and spent every bit of my free time trying to use magic. I also decided to dedicate some time to learn a bit of Latin. I never expected to actually reach a conversational level but knowing the basics might prove useful in case I ever decided to try my luck in spell-making.
Magic was extremely hard but that was to be expected. I had no wand so I was already up to a hard start with wandless magic. The second problem was that I didn’t really know any technicalities about movements and focus required to cast spells. I decided to at first focus on the easiest spell I could think of – Lumos – and figure out the rest as I went.
It took me a few months to actually illuminate the tip of my finger and I got so excited that I lost focus dispelling it immediately. After a few more hours of trying, I managed to get to a point when I could reliably cast the spell. A week later I could also keep the tip of my finger illuminated for as long as I wanted and dispel it with Nox.
From then on, I picked up much better pace with my magic practise. Learning to cast Lumos taught me a lot about how to properly focus while casting a spell and how to movement affects it. That didn’t however mean that I was capable of instantly casting any spell I wanted. Every spell comes with its own movements and required me to focus on different aspects of my magic. The fact that I had no wand also added to my problems. A wand simplifies the process, drains less energy and helps with focus. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to get one for three more years until I got my Hogwarts letter.
The second spell I learnt was Wingardium Leviosa. It took me a bit over a month to be able to cast it reliably. After that I moved on to other simple spells I could recall such as Diffindo, Reparo, Alochomora, Incendio – I decided to keep a jug of water in my room for this one and it quickly proved to be the correct decision – and so on. Some spells took much more time than the others. Sometimes despite learning how to reliably cast the spell its efficiency was lacking, so I dedicated my time to improving it. I knew well that I wouldn’t be able to learn more complicated spells on my own without books to guide me so I decided to master those that I could. What I was doing was essentially inventing these spells anew with my only advantage being the fact that I knew the incantations.
There were also some spells I couldn’t crack. I spent half a year trying to cast Protego only to fail miserably and finally decided to give up and pick It back up after I managed to get my hands on the right books. I couldn’t afford to waste too much of my limited head start and the shielding charm already costed me way too much of it so I decided to limit myself to simpler spells. At one point I run out of simple spells I could recall so I decided to dedicate my remaining year to improve on the ones I already knew. In seven months, I could cast Lumos non-verbally and all the other spells I knew were much more efficient than before.
In the month approaching my eleventh birthday I was getting more and more restless eagerly awaiting the day my Hogwarts letter was meant to arrive. On the 1st of August I woke up early in the morning and in a very uncharacteristic for me manner I left the bed immediately. I quickly got myself ready for the big day. After I was done, I looked into my wardrobe mirror. What greeted me was the sight of a thin young girl – now a teenager – with a slightly crooked nose, dark – almost black – eyes and a bit over shoulder-length straight black hair hugging her face.
I went downstairs and the first thing I did was check on the front door. After seeing no letters I turned towards the kitchen and after greeting my dad and hearing him out while he wished me a happy birthday I made myself some light breakfast.
“Hey dad, did any letters come in today?”
“No sunshine, I don’t believe so. Are you expecting one?”
“No, I just… thought there might’ve been one… but never mind that. It’s nothing.”
“Is everything alright sunshine?” my dad asked, rising his eyebrow while looking up from his newspaper.
“Oh, why yes, of course” I replied trying to control my shaking voice.
“You’re up awfully early and on your birthday too. I expected you to sleep in.” he said, now completely shifting his focus to me.
“I was just very excited. You know, about becoming a teenager and wondering what you and mum would prepare.” I said trying to sound as natural as possible.
After hearing that dad smiled kindly and folded the newspaper. “About that. We do have something planned. I took a day off today so that we can spend your birthday together. We just have to wait for your mum to get back from the baker’s.”
I repaid his smile with my own – although I suspected that mine might have come off as a bit weak – and after a few seconds I went back to checking on the front door.
Suddenly I heard a noise from the other side. I immediately rushed over there and opened the door only to be greeted by my mum carrying a medium sized carton box. Upon seeing me she smiled and moved as if to hug me but she realised in time that the box would make that impossible so she spoke instead “Hello honey, happy birthday! How are you today?”
“Oh, hi mum thanks. I’m good.” I said quickly hiding the disappointment that I was sure must’ve been clearly visible on my face.
Mum came inside the house and opened the box revealing a pretty lemon cake – my favourite. They sang me Happy Birthday and we ate together but I couldn’t help but keep sending glances towards the hallway. I was beginning to get anxious. ‘What if I don’t receive the letter? No, I have to get one, I can clearly do magic. But what if?’.
And then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll take it!” I barked and threw myself towards the door.
“Wait a second!” My dad threw after me but I was already in the hallway grabbing the doorknob.
Upon opening the door, I saw a tall black-haired woman with a very stern look on her face. She was wearing an emerald green skirt and jacket though it did seem like these clothes weren’t too natural for her. After a second, she looked down at me and greeted me with a slight smile.
“Hello dear, are you Nicole Lynch?” the woman asked.
“Yes.. eh… Hello, yes, that’s me.” I answered, my voice shaking.
At this point my parents caught up to me and placed themselves slightly in front of me, my mum sending me a disapproving look.
“Good morning, I’m Victor Lynch. What do we owe the visit?” my dad asked.
The woman took her eyes off me and looked at my dad. “Good morning, my name is Minerva McGonagall and I’m here to deliver a letter.”
“A letter?” repeated dad, visible thrown off track as McGonagall certainly did not look like a postwoman.
“Yes, a letter. For Miss Nicole Lynch.” McGonagall said and a letter somehow appeared in her hand.
“For Nicole?” dad repeated again, once more thrown off track. He did however quickly recover. “Well then, could you give me this letter?”
“I’m afraid it’s hers to receive. Unless of course she doesn’t have anything against you taking a look first.” she said and looked at me as if asking me a question.
“Go ahead.” I said quickly to avoid needless bickering.
Dad took the letter and made a move as if intended to close the door but then he noticed that McGonagall didn’t move to walk away.
“Is there something else?” he asked looking at her.
“I’d rather you and Nicole read the letter right away because there are going to be a lot of questions that I’m here to answer.”
Dad took a few seconds to think about it and then slowly – as if acting against himself – he opened the letter and started reading, his eyebrows rising with every line.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Lynch.”
I took the opportunity to snatch the letter out of dad’s hand and began reading.
Dear Miss Lynch,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
I looked up from the letter to see confused looks on my parents’ faces.
McGonagall sighed and proceeded to say “Perhaps a little demonstration shall help you with understanding.” And then she turned into a cat.
My mum screamed and my dad jumped back pushing me behind him. McGonagall on the other hand turned back to her human form and looked at my parents. “Pardon my intrusion, but I suppose you’d rather not have this conversation out in the open so if you don’t mind, I shall invite myself inside.”
Neither of my parents seemed capable of saying a word of protest, so McGonagall walked inside, the door closing itself behind her. She proceeded to walk us into our own living room and sat down in the armchair. We took the couch, me in the middle, my parent to my sides as if trying to shield me.
“Well then” opened McGonagall. “I believe there are a lot of things you’d like to know. Where would you like to begin?”
“I… This is not a joke?” dad asked once again.
“It is not.”
“What would you do if we said no?”
McGonagall looked at him with some kind of look in her eyes that I identified as amusement.
“You cannot refuse a magical education.” she said. “Leaving a magical gift unattended is not just unwise, it’s straight up dangerous to both the witch and her surroundings. There are some other options than going to Hogwarts such as homeschooling or another school abroad. However, the former is only possible if at least one of the parents is a witch or a wizard themselves and the latter doesn’t really solve any of the issues you might have, does it?”
Suddenly my dad looked at me, his brows furrowed. “Is that why you looked so anxious whole morning and asked about letters? Did you know this would happen?”
I thought for a split second and decided to play stupid.
“Oh, that. No, I just… I kind of had a feeling a letter would come. I can’t quite explain this.”
McGonagall looked at me with her brows raised.
“Well Miss Lynch, that might mean that you could be gifted in foresight.” she said after a few seconds with noticeable uneasiness in her voice.
‘Makes sense’ I thought. ‘She doesn’t have the best opinion on divination.’
“And while we are at the subject of your abilities Miss Lynch, have you ever noticed anything unusual happen around you?”
I did my best to keep my poker face up and nodded my head.
“If that’s alright, could you show me?” McGonagall asked.
In answer to her question, I raised my hand and non-verbally cast Wingardium Leviosa on the plate with my unfinished piece of cake on the kitchen table. The plate rose up and moved through the air landing on the coffee table in-between us. My parents observed it with their eyes wide open. McGonagall also seemed surprised.
“That’s a lot of control for someone your age” she said. Judging on her voice she must’ve impressed.
“Is it really?” I asked her, this time not hiding my excitement.
“Since when could you do that honey?” asked my mum, her voice shaking.
“Since a year ago” I lied. “I was kind of scared to tell anyone. I sometimes use it when I’m alone.”
“Well, you being aware of your gift makes this conversation much easier.” said McGonagall, smiling slightly. “Am I right to assume that you are interested in going to Hogwarts.”
“Sure thing I am!” I almost screamed in excitement. “I want to learn more about magic!”
McGonagall nodded and turned to my dad. “So, is there anything either of you would like to know about?”
“Is that common? That magic?” asked my dad after thinking for a while. “Does it just appear in people at random?”
“Not quite. There are a few thousand witches and wizards in Britain. Magic usually appears in children whose parents are magically gifted themselves though sometimes magic can appear in a child born to muggle – that is non-magical – parents.”
“Does that mean that Nicole’s birth parents were wizards?” asked dad with uncertainty in his voice.
“Not necessarily. As I said it can appear at random and as I do not know who her birth parents are I cannot answer that question.”
“I see.” said dad, thinking. “This school, this Hogwarts, where is it located? You made it seem like it’s the only school in the country so am I right to assume that it’s a boarding school?”
McGonagall nodded. “Hogwarts is indeed a boarding school. I cannot reveal its exact location I can however say that it’s in Scotland and the children get there on the 1st of September via Hogwarts Express from the King’s Cross station Platform 9 ¾.”
“I see.” said dad, clearly contemplating whether or not he should inquire about the Platform 9 ¾. “What about the fees?”
“The school itself is free” replied McGonagall. “However, you will have to cover the cost of the school supplies mentioned in the letter. In case you are short on money, the Ministry of Magic has a special fund to help with the school expanses although I assume that it won’t be needed in your case.”
“The Ministry of Magic?” mum cut in.
“Yes, the Ministry of Magic. The governing body of Wizarding Britain.” McGonagall said dismissively and continued on. “As you might’ve noticed while reading the letter, I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. I also teach Transfiguration which means that I’m going to be one of your professors when you arrive at school. Another thing for you to consider is the shopping trip to Diagon Alley that you will have to go to. I may assist you with this if you wish so. If you don’t, I can leave you instructions on how to reach it.”
“I think we’ll manage.” said my dad before I could answer.
McGonagall kept her eyes on him for a few long seconds and nodded and passed my dad a roll of preachment. “Very well. These are the instructions. I think that should be all. Have a nice day and see you at the school Miss Lynch.”
And then she disappeared with a loud crack.
We looked at each other. All of us unsure what to say.
“Coolest birthday ever!” I said finally smiling widely at my parents. And after a few second of silence, we all started laughing.