The start of a project
She couldn’t do it.
In a small cottage invisible to all, in a living room with warm colors, while his parents had placed it on a play mat with a few stuffed animals to occupy it, A toddler named Harry Potter frowned in such annoyance that even the music escaping from the little enchanted box to calm the babies and put them at ease could not ease his discomfort.
His mental shield project worked perfectly. Indeed, she applied the mental energy of an adult person to a childish magic, having never learned to defend himself. Yet, as she locked herself in her mind, recalling every bit of detail that she knew related to the work in which she now lived, she could not help but doubt.
She knew only one version of the future of this world, a version that was surely not her own, because she did not see herself behaving as foolishly as the original Harry Potter by having all her current adult knowledge. She could not see herself submitting, could not see herself entering a war without plans and weapons, could not see herself going to Gryffindor. When her mother was still there, she was Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, a little genius who adored her mother. After training her sire, she would be nothing but a Slytherin.
She remembered the fights, the poisonings, the theft, all the crimes she had committed, to follow orders, to survive, to take revenge. She recalled the maxim The end justifies the means that had governed her life. Not only that, but she remembered how she had given everything for her goals: first to satisfy her father, then to leave the organization that held her back and finally to become a mother.
She had lived a horrible, painful and traumatic life, only her goals had kept her from deep depression or total catatonia. But in this new life, the only thing that had interested her was the prospect of a happy family life and the magic that swarmed in her veins, one going to leave her in just a few weeks, the other putting her in danger of death.
She could not aim for her family’s survival, she was too weak for that. She could only focus on her survival. Yet she found it difficult to be interested in this goal. Her life had always been worth little, either to herself or to those around her. To concentrate on it in priority of anything else seemed to him unnatural.
Demoralizing thoughts continued to pollute his reflection. Why then a reincarnation so null. In itself, she was very enthusiastic about the theory that all creation is a reflection of a universe different from ours, but similar enough to be interpreted by our mind through space time. Moreover, the idea of becoming a heroine with a happy and safe ending was comfortable and reassuring.
But she was not a hero, but a hero. A child hero who was supposed to face or be manipulated by sorcerers who had decades more than him and were known as the greatest sorcerers of their centuries by their respective camps, Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbeldore.
The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to continue. She could be in any version of the wizarding world. One where Dumbeldore is just a good guy who makes mistakes that will fall on her and Voldemort is a brainless madman who wants to destroy her. One where both are ready to do anything for their vision of a perfect world, even to kill and torture children, especially her. One where Voldemort is the victim or creation of a Dark Lord Dumbeldore. Maybe even one where Voldemort is his soul mate, or he is a descendant of Merlin.
She could not control anything, not even her body, given her age. And she could not find anything to relate to life. She had lived a mostly horrible life whose only light was her daughter, and she was destined for another where she could not even reach the majority. She turned around, grabbing her panda plush and hiding her face in the fur. If only she could find another goal than to survive or even escape her great chess players.
She stood up suddenly, amazed at the idea she had just had. Voldemort and Dumbeldore were chess players, players who took poor little Harry Potter for a pawn. And if, by an unfortunate chance, this pawn became a player. And not only that, but also, and if this little new player, quite comfortable with manipulations and wars, beat them both.
A chuckle escaped from the toddler’s lips, dreaming of victory. Of course, a well-crafted plan had to be prepared, but she already had an advantage. She had her youth that would give her an appearance of innocence. She had her already mature intelligence and advanced and varied knowledge to create comprehensive strategies. She had experience in revolution that could put her at the head of a government.
The only thing she had to choose was the segment of population she was going to target and that she type of revolution she had to target. She was of course going to target youth, because she would be more impetuous and idealistic, so more manipulable. Moreover, if the title of Boy-Who-Lived still belonged to her, all the generations coming after her will have grown in his legend, which will make them more receptive.
As for the revolution, she hesitated between imitating the West and bringing down a false democracy like that of the ministry to establish a monarchy or to draw inspiration from the East by using a religious organization to convince the new leaders that she had installed to follow it. She leaned towards the second choice the most, because she did not want to take the time to govern after the seizure of power, but she also knew that not firmly holding on to this power would only make her vulnerable in the long run.
She began to squint again when her thought process led her to an elegant solution. She could make the leader fall in love, which would give her quite a lot of control over them. After all, young people listen more to their lovers than their friends, relatives and representatives of authority. However, it should position itself as dominant in the private sphere and as equal or even dominated in the public sphere.
She placed her tiny fist under her chubby chin, reflecting on the choice of her ideal partner, the one who would become the king of the wizarding world. Foremost, it should be a man. While she had no preference between the two sexes, being able to be seduced by both, the wizarding world seemed more patriarchal.
If she married a woman with her new male body, she would be seen as the dominant of the couple, which she was trying to avoid. Moreover, his choice would be against the current of the majority, which would strengthen his special status. However, any man did not fit. It took a naive, even shy who is used to listening to the opinions of others, but can lead if he must. She was to be able to direct him if necessary, but he would have to be able to manage a government without his help.
The only one who met his criteria was Neville Longbottom. A shy little boy, seemingly mistreated by his family, who had managed a resistance to the Death Eaters in the last book. He was pure-blooded, but his family knew Dumbeldore well enough to know the prophecy, so no opposition from either side.
She buried her head again in the two-tone fur of the panda, satisfied to have finally managed to find a goal, a project, that would make her want to live. She will become the male queen of a new magical world. She will checkmate the two greatest sorcerers of this century. Her smile softened when she thought of the boy she was going to cover with love, the future king to whom she was going to give her crown.
She plunged back into her mental landscape to refine her plan.