A new life
She was alive again.
She observed what appeared to be her new parents. They were nothing like the old ones, which shocked her a bit. Instead of short blonde hair and sweet empty blue eyes, her new mother had long red hair and green eyes bright with intelligence.
As for her new father, he was even more different from her former father. Instead of black skin, very short hair and cold ebony eyes, she could see peach-coloured skin, ruffled hair and warm chocolate irises. The lack of resemblance between the two couples was palpable because it was so obvious.
Her new life had taken him a long time to adapt, especially in view of his violent death. She had spent her first few weeks in hysterical tears and glassy looks. She openly complained to her new parents, who had to endure such a capricious baby. Yet, the months passed and while she had almost ignored them originally, the lack of control on her body and her muffled senses now drove her crazy.
It had already been more than a year since she had been reincarnated, and her new life and the new habits that accompanied her bore her deeply. Her new parents were also concerned that she never played with her toys, often looked into the void for lengthy periods, and that her face showed little emotion. As young parents, they were worried about whether they had made a mistake that affected her.
But she herself managed her activities well: if she did not play with the toys that had been offered to her, it was because these were not adapted to her mental age. She contented herself with stuffed animals, especially the panda-shaped one that had been given to her by a friend of her father whose name she did not remember and who reminded her of her first Mother.
She still sometimes looked in the void, but it’s because she reflected in this way and despite her face empty of emotions due to a psychopathy diagnosed in her previous life, the training of her former Father and a certain social anxiety that made the emotional expression unnatural to her, she managed to get along pleasantly with her “Dad” and her “Mom”.
But life seemed to him so boring and monotonous, as if between rest and meals, the baby’s life was just languor. She wondered if the fact that one remembers her childhood only around 4 years was due to the fact that before this age, there was nothing to remember.
Added to that, she ended up in the body of a male newborn… Not only did she not control her body, but she also had to learn to live in an entirely different way. Societal expectations are not the same for men as for women.
In her last life, she was not feminine enough, not modest enough, not interested enough in romance. She could bet that in this life she will be too calm, not sporty enough or worse, a faggot. But she would not have to undergo the instruments of torture that are the bras, these rotten menstrual pains or the disapprobation of a Father wanting a son.
Yet, she still felt like a woman, still felt like the mother she had been. She did not know if she would become Trans in this new life, but she was already beginning to feel some dysphoria.
Nevertheless, one thing in this new life fascinated her: Magic. When she first saw sparks coming out of her parents’ wand, she was impressed. When her mother told her father that “their little Bambi had magic” because “Mrs Pomfresh had told him”, she was filled with joy despite the disgusting nickname. And when she finally accomplished her first magical act by bringing her panda plush back in her arms, she fell into ecstasy. The feeling of magic in her veins or on her skin brought her only contentment, and she could not get tired of it.
She could now manipulate a force of nature, shape the world around her with ease and according to her desire. She could be a fucking Jedi, a nice fairy godmother or a witch lost in the woods, with three cats, two crows and a pet bat, but for that, she had to practice.
So she began a draconian training regime, constantly training except to sleep and eat. Her magic worked around her, moving objects, changing colours, breaking and repairing them.
While she was practising her magic to exacerbate her senses which, since she was a baby, were quite bad, her newfound super-hearing caught confused words.
- Sirius had to change his hiding places again. His flat was attacked.
- How is Peter doing?
- He’s fine, no one has guessed yet that he was our Secret Keeper…
- Fortunately…
- I would love to help them, but we have to stay on Dumbledore’s orders!
- It’s to protect Harry, James! It’s not the director’s fault! We have to stay hidden to protect our baby!
When she heard these words, a shock similar to electricity ran through her.
She was Harry Fucking Potter AKA the Boy-who-survived AKA the orphan boy, which meant the death of her new parents, mistreated by his only known living family, the faith hero, villain and martyr of the wizarding world, chased by terrorists who wanted his death as painful as possible and finally a politician who mixed all this in a super suspicious way and who could be responsible for his eventual death.
She began to gasp strongly, her little fists clasping. “A panic attack”, she thought. Her body shrank, trembling. She felt the world revolve around her, sink into itself. If this world is a world of fiction, it’s not real. If it isn’t, neither is her new life. Nothing made sense. But either the world around her did not exist, being artificial as in Matrix, or she had been beautifully and well reincarnated, but had started to live again, had hoped for a long life for this time, so that the world would tell her no, tells her that she was destined to suffer, to die and that even younger than the last time.
In addition, she was now the protagonist of a story in which it was possible to read in the minds of others. She was bound to suffer a telepathic attack. She had to protect herself, protect her memories of another life, a method to stop the war, information to threaten or manipulate the world of sorcerers. In a world where we were at war and where we could manipulate personality and relationships with people as if by magic with spells or horrible love potions, we would necessarily do it, as a certain Murphy would say.
So, she abandoned all other accidental magic and focused on mastering her mind. The first step for her was to find or perceive this famous spirit. She focused her magic on the inside of her head and touched a kind of solid magic bubble. Not wanting to hurt her mind, she tried to gently infuse her magic into the bubble like a soft mist.
It took her three weeks to get there, and when she accomplished her goal, her perception found itself in what she later called her mental landscape. It was coloured in different shades of colours : purple, green, yellow, red, orange and blue. She could feel she had total power over this place. She created a white beanbag and sank into it, a forest green blanket covering her.
She could still feel her crib, the softness of her plush and the warmth of her home. But at the same time, she could also sense this blanket, this ottoman under her body and everything around her. When she opened her eyes, they shone. She knew it because she was in her head and she knew everything that was going on there! This reminded her of the description of divine omnipresence.
The avatar she had to represent her was her adult form, with the curls in shambles and scars. She had lived longer in this form than a baby and was more used to it. She extinguished the glow emanating from her pupils, making them their simple chocolate colour that she had seen for years in the mirror.
For the first time, she no longer felt she was running out of time. Here, time was relative. An hour in her mental landscape could very well be only a second outside. She could afford to relax a little and do nothing for a few moments. For the protection construction, she decided to create her own method, more adapted to her needs and personality.
Mixing the principle of the mental palace, Sherlock Holmes style, and distraction with parasitic Marvel-style thoughts, she had created a hybrid style that suited her and was reminiscent of the various fanfictions she had read. The protections around her mind would first be basic and incomplete, but she will polish and improve them constantly. She wanted nothing less than perfection for this particular skill.
Her mental avatar stretched out his hands before her and began to build.