Chapter 1
You know most people believe there is light at the end of the tunnel in death. Normally when someone is dying you would hear someone screaming "Don't go into the light!"
Well... The light was wrong.
When I had the most fantastic pleasure of dying, Ironically, it was caused by an ambulance that had whipped around the corner too fast as I was crossing the street to get to the Hospital...
Ironic, I know.
The memory of myself having laid there in the middle of the pedestrian line with my blood soaking into my hair, skin and into the asphalt that was under me, with and my bones shattered; stuck with me. I remembered looking into the very pale white eyes of a man who looked like an angel of death himself and I remember him pulling me up until I was in a tunnel and then there was that light... Ah, that light that was supposed to be the afterlife.
Ladies, gentlemen, whoever you are, we were wrong.
What I walked into was luminous, blurry, and rose-tinted. Everything there was muffled. I felt like a blind and partially deaf child who couldn't even get assistance. Let me tell you, I was traumatized by the hell of an experience I suffered in those minutes. I was pretty sure I was in a hospital. I was pretty damn sure I was reborn. I came out of a very warm, pinkish-gooey place!
Nobody should remember the moment of coming out of a woman's vag! Nobody!
And let's just say it only got much weirder from there. I was a grown woman in a baby's body and my "mom" stuck her tit in my mouth which my hungry little ass went to town on because you know, I was obviously a baby now and it's not like I could just pick myself up and cook a hotpot or anything.
Oh and boy did it only get stranger!
When my blurry little eyes got sort of better (not by much!) I discovered my parents were beautiful. My new mom — Mum had such beautiful red hair and my dad had the messiest raven mop ever. Then my hearing cleared up and I thought it was so funny that my mum was called Lily and my dad James. They even resembled Lily and James, just like the books and films!
But wait!
My godfather was called Sirius or "Padfoot" who in turn called my dad "Prongs" and then there was Remus who was "Moony"
Gosh, I was always such a simp for Moony. I mean come on? Who wouldn't love that dude? He was the best. Is the best. Padfoot wasn't too pleased nor was my dad for that matter that I always ALWAYS reached for Moony.
Hell, my first word in this hella cool afterlife was "moo-ee" not "mum," not "dada" or in Sirius's desperate attempts "paddy" but, "Moo-ee"
Remus loved me and I loved him. Every time he came through the Potter Manor doors, I was this happy chubby little thing all gums and smiles for him. As soon as I could start crawling, I would squirm like a worm to get to him. Then I was pulling myself up and always yanking on his trousers. I loved Remus. He smelt so nice all the time. Like chocolate, Earl Grey, and dusty books with that perfect smell after it stormed. I loved being nestled in his scarred arms and peppering his scarred face with slobbery kisses and just all around making sure he knew I loved him and that he deserved to be loved. That he wasn't scary, at all.
I took my first steps before my birthday— Commence the insane cheering of the Marauders and Mum. They were so proud of me. Hell, I even let Wormtail ruffle my hair, I was so caught up in it. And I really hated that guy!
Peter almost didn't come to my birthday party because of the fact I was always biting him or screaming bloody murder anytime he got near me. I once threw a handful of hot mash in his eye and blew a nice raspberry at him. When I learned to get my fingers right, he was even given the bird on a regular basis... Paddy really loved that. Mum didn't like it all that much. She thought Paddy was teaching me bad things especially when my vocabulary got rather colorful.
Dad laughed a lot. They would pat Peter's back and tell him that I did like him and not to take it to heart. Well, I was taking it to heart because I didn't like him.
I had an abnormal word list for a one-year-old, Honestly, it was probably due to the fact I was a grown woman in a child's body but even if it was rather large for a child my age; I still struggled to speak. My mouth could not work properly with my mind. My words were all lipsy and consisted of a lot of slobber... it was honestly super gross.
Life was rather great though, I had to admit that. I like this afterlife. It was really nice to be with a few of my beloved fictional characters. Of course, my name was kind of cute too. Perfect really for the December baby that I am.
Hollyn Lily Potter
The months that passed were truly amazing. Paddy would strap me to his chest despite me being a little over one now and can perfectly wobble walk my way around. But, I was his little Beira, the Queen of Winter and he was such a lady's man. All I had to do was flash my smile and say "I wuv my Paddy" and all the ladies swoon. I was his little ladies' magnet, his wing baby. Sirius always had a pocket full of phone numbers, Mum didn't like that he used me in such a way when babysitting but I never ended up harmed or anything. Paddy was quite responsible at times. Dad, as usual, thought it was hilarious.
Moony would just frown and demand he pass me on over. It took a while but Moony totally loved being slobbered all over by me now. He even let me nap fully on him and would sit perfectly still until I woke up unlike how he used to pass me off to Mum or Dad at first.
It was great. I even had magic! I could make things come flying at my outstretched hands, I let out a high-pitched squeal and I would float about in the air that forced Mum and Dad to tie me to weights so I didn't float off too far. Sirius tied a string around my ankle once and called me his little dirigible Holly.
Again, Mum was not amused.
Then Mum told me I was going to be a big sister on my second birthday. As I was the youngest of four in my past life, and the only girl, I had always wanted to be the big sister. I craved it so much but I was never granted that wish. I was so incredibly happy that I was going to be a big sister.
Sirius and Moony slowly stopped coming around as often. Moony was always looking worse for wear when he did come around and he would even join me for naptime on the floor. I would lay very still so as to not wake him if I happened to wake first. Paddy would join us in dog form if he happened to be there. He was looking rough too and I missed them both so much. Even Dad was leaving the manor more often than not leaving me and mum at home alone for many hours throughout the day.
Finally though! By the time I could make my mouth work to form quite a lot of lipsy sentences, July was upon us and Mum went into labor. Grandma Euphemia and Grandpa Fleamont were happy to take me for the week as Mum and Dad left for Saint Mungos to bring my little sibling into the world.
When Grandma and Grandpa brought me back to the Potter Manor from their little seaside cottage in Scottland, I finally got to meet my little brother. And let me just say... Harold Jameson Potter was an absolute precious baby. And I loved my afterlife all the more for letting me be his big sister. I was going to give him the world. Harry would never know pain if I could help it. Sure I was two and a half years older than him but that was all fine! He was still my little brother!
The months that came were hard at first because Harry did cry a lot but he would get better. Maybe it was because I always climbed into his crib and gave him cuddles. Harry loved me as much as I loved him. He was my little joy. My perfect baby.
My precious Harry.
Mum and Dad were happy that I took my role as big sissy very seriously. I always wanted to help bathe him, help feed him, give him his toys, and read to him though it was terrible because my eyesight was still awful — I wear glasses now like Dad and I had to fake not knowing how to read or it would be very suspicious. So it was more just showing him my picture books and petting his hair while he smiled adoringly at me and I told him what such a beautiful boy he was.
I loved getting to watch Harry grow. His first word was "itzy" which was probably Sissy as he was looking at me while laughing when he said it.
Mum broke the teapot while screaming in joy while Dad immediately used the Floo to call everyone and let them know that his son had said his first word. Despite it not being mama or dada once again, they were thrilled that Harry loved me so much that his first word had been just for me. I had to admit, I was feeling rather smug about it.
Then Albus too many names Dumbledore showed up. And I swear I was never so horrified that the running joke I thought death was playing on me was actually real.
My perfect little afterlife had turned into a nightmare.
This was real. I have somehow actually been reincarnated into the Potter Verse.
We were packed up and suddenly being moved into the old Potter Cottage in Godrics Hallow. It was a poor time too because when Harry was six months old, Mum was pregnant again.
We never really saw Moony much anymore. Though we got letters and Paddy hardly ever came by due to working hard as an Auror and Dad stopped going to work altogether so it was just the four of us.
For Harry's first birthday, I had hoped Paddy or Moony would come but they didn't. I was three now and I tried to tell Mum and Dad that Wormtail was a very bad rat. I tried to tell them that he was evil but they wouldn't listen to me.
He came by for Harry's first birthday. I made sure to bite his finger until I drew blood when he tried to pick me up. I then proceeded to scream at the top of my lungs that he was a "bad bad rat"
Curse my poor attempts to deliver my feelings that my poor little body couldn't convey without getting emotional and overloaded until I was trembling and in tears.
I, of course, had been sent to the time-out table for bad manners. Small mericies I should say when the baby broom Paddy sent Harry had been flown right into Wormtails balls.
During the September equinox on the 22nd, our baby brother, Lennox Fleamont Potter was born. It was a blessing. I had two baby brothers to love and to cherish and I would protect them the best I could. Mum had a bad home birth since she couldn't risk going to Saint Mungo's. My godmother, Minerva "Minnie" the ole McG, the OG - she came to help her through the birth with Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts.
We almost lost mum when Nox was born. Pomfrey said it was because she had two pregnancies close together. She hadn't even properly healed from her time carrying Harry. I was so confused because Nox wasn't even supposed to exist but then again, I wasn't supposed to exist either.
I suppose I should have remembered what would happen a month later as I looked out the window at all the children and parents dressed in costumes. Nox was sleeping soundly in his bassinet that Mum had next to the window bench of our nursey, knowing I loved to watch him sleep. It is something I always did. I felt better knowing I could see their chests rising and falling. To see that they were still breathing.
Harry was in his crib wide awake and playing with his snuffles (a plushie of a dog that was identical to Paddy) and I was watching over them both even if it meant I couldn't truly protect them.
The story was very different... Harry wasn't called Harold and he definitely didn't have a sister or a baby brother. Nor a dad called Jameson. Lily was right though.
Maybe I was wrong? Maybe Dumbledore didn't move us because of the prophecy... I had foolishly convinced myself that all was well.
Then Voldemort did come.
He did kill our daddy.
Mummy ran into our nursery, placing all three of us together in Harry's crib. The frantic pace of her movements was like the desperate rhythm of a heart racing against time. I held my little brother Nox close, his body wriggling in discomfort as he cried, not liking that his rest had been disturbed. The sounds of his distress were sharp in my ears, but they were nothing compared to the pounding of my heart. I could feel the warmth of his small body against me, but even in that moment, all I could think about was the fear in my mother's eyes as she hurriedly worked to prepare us for something horrible, something inevitable.
Mummy barreled through our nursery, running around, her eyes flickering to every corner as though the very walls were closing in on us. She began casting protective runes, symbols that she had been carving all around the room for months, as if she knew this day would come. She was on her hands and knees, hurriedly sketching lines into the floorboards, her fingers trembling slightly as she completed each one. Sweat beaded on her brow, but she didn't stop. Her voice was strained but calm as she spoke through the air, her words for us.
"Stay close to each other, my loves. Keep safe."
Then, her eyes met mine, and I saw something there—a desperate love that consumed her entirely. She had been a mother before anything else, and in that moment, I knew she would do whatever it took to protect us. "Mummy and Daddy love you so much..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a strength that didn't seem to belong to her small frame.
I could only nod in response, though I didn't feel strong at all. I knew, deep down, that I should have tried harder. I should have been better. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. There had to be another way. But in that nursery, with the weight of the world pressing down on us, all I could do was clutch Nox closer to my chest, hoping that somehow, we would be safe.
"Look after our boys, my Holly," Mum said, her voice a haunting whisper as her eyes locked onto mine. "Watch over them."
The words sent a chill down my spine, but I couldn't speak. My voice was caught in my throat, constricted with emotion, with fear, with sorrow. All I could do was whisper a promise back, my voice wavering like a fragile thread.
"I prowmise, Mummy," I whispered through wobbly lips, blinking back tears that threatened to fall, causing my glasses to fog up in the process. My hands shook as I wiped them away, but the fear only grew. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something awful was about to happen. I knew something bad was going to happen.
And then, as if the world had finally shattered, the door of the nursery was blown off its hinges. It was as though the universe had given up on the sanctity of this small room, this last haven of safety, because in that moment, everything changed. Pieces of wood flew through the air, and I barely had time to react. Mum cast a shield charm to protect us from the flying debris. But the force of the blast was too great. The world trembled, and so did I.
And then, amidst the chaos, I saw him.
I will never forget how deadly and beautiful Tom Riddle truly was. No movie nor book could have prepared me for the dark attraction of him. He was like a god among mortal men, a figure who stood above all others with an icy presence that chilled the very air around him. He was Lucifer incarnate, the embodiment of power and malice. He was Adonis and Dionysus rolled into one, with an elegance that made him seem like a force of nature, something far beyond anything human.
His eyes were a fresh, unnatural shade of blood red, and his pale skin made him appear almost ethereal in the dim light of the nursery. His cheekbones could cut glass, and his jaw was so perfect it seemed like something that should have never been allowed to exist. His raven curly hair, blacker than a stormy night, was parted with a precision that seemed deliberate, as though it had been crafted by the gods themselves. Despite his pallor, despite the thinness of his form, he was undeniably beautiful. And that beauty made everything worse.
I was so caught up in his appearance that I didn't immediately hear Mum begging him to spare us, to spare Harry. She pleaded, her voice breaking with fear. "Please! Not Harry!" she begged.
But I didn't understand. I wanted to be angry with her for begging him. Why wasn't she protecting us? Why wasn't she fighting back? I didn't know then that it was in her nature, that she would always choose sacrifice for the sake of her children.
But Tom, Voldemort, looked disgusted with her. His voice hissed like a snake as he spoke. "You would have me kill you and leave your other two motherless?"
I couldn't fathom what he meant by that, but I watched in horror as my mother continued to beg. Her voice wavered, pleading for Harry's life, even as the inevitability of our fate loomed closer.
And then, as if she had no other choice, she did the only thing she could. She offered herself up instead, her voice breaking in a final, desperate plea.
"Please," she begged again. "Please, spare Harry."
And just like that, Voldemort killed her.
The spell was swift, and in an instant, her life was extinguished. It was a death that took away more than just a mother—it destroyed the core of what was good in the world, leaving only emptiness behind. My heart shattered, and I felt something cold settle over me, a grief I didn't know how to bear.
But it wasn't over. Voldemort turned his gaze on me next. His eyes, as red as blood, locked onto mine, and in that moment, I felt a chill run through me. I held Nox, his little squirming body pressed to my chest as I tried to hide Harry behind me, protect him from the madness that had overtaken our world.
"Please, Mister," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Don't hurt my bubby."
I don't know why I said that. Maybe it was a child's plea for mercy, or maybe it was just the last thread of innocence that hadn't yet been torn away. But I thought—just for a second—that maybe he would listen. Maybe he would change his mind.
But Voldemort didn't seem angry. Instead, there was a strange sadness in his expression, something I had never expected to see on the face of a man so monstrous. He sighed, the sound almost like a whisper of wind, and spoke.
"I don't like the thought of killing children," he said, as if it were some great moral dilemma for him. "But I have worked too hard for far too long to lose my progress because of your brother."
He reached into the crib, his hand moving with a strange kind of tenderness as he patted my head, almost as if he were trying to comfort me. I wanted to recoil, to pull away, but I was frozen in place. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched his fingers brush against my hair, as if he were some twisted version of a father figure.
"I am sorry," he said, his voice almost kind, before turning his attention to Harry. He pointed his wand—his cursed wand—at my brother, and I knew what was coming.
The green light of the Killing Curse streaked toward Harry, but before it could reach him, I panicked. I moved to shield him with my body, throwing myself between the curse and my brother, thinking I might be able to protect him. But I was too slow. The curse hit me instead.
The world went dark. I thought I was going to die. I thought it was the end of everything, that the nightmare would finally be over. But once again, I was wrong.
The world seemed to explode around me. Voldemort's form disintegrated into ash, a dark streaking shadow slammed into my chest with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. The cottage around us cracked and splintered, debris falling like rain, but I didn't care. I threw myself over Harry and Nox, shielding them as best I could. My heart hammered in my chest, and the pain was excruciating. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
Harry was hit in the head, but Nox seemed unharmed, a small blessing amidst the chaos. My body ached with a sickening nausea, and I felt something dark and wrong stirring deep inside me.
Something went horribly wrong.
Something had changed.
And in that moment, I realized with horrifying clarity that this was far from over. This nightmare wasn't finished yet. It had only just begun.