Chapter Text
SIMON
This was supposed to be a good first year.
After the Mage told me I was magic, and showed me it wasn't a trick—gave me an actual wand, a sword, and a life purpose!—I thought things would get better. I thought I would stop being lonely, feeling like something was wrong, like I was wrong.
But I didn't know Basilton Pitch existed, so it's not my fault. I wished for a happier future. I should have known there would be a catch.
It was all going smoothly up until the Crucible was cast. The news of having a roommate, someone who would be my best friend—hell, my brother!—were the best I had received after the mention of Watford. There was magic, and spells, and food, people to befriend everywhere, scones to taste for the first time…
Life couldn't get better.
It didn't.
It got worse—which I didn't know could happen, but trust that asshole to make Watford a bad thing.
We were at the Ceremony, the spell cast, and I could feel the pull! The person who would share it all with me is walking towards me. My heart was exploding in my chest. I was doubtful there would be a person destined just for me, magickally compatible to live with me, someone designed to match me, to even love me. But then fucking Tyrannus Basilton Grimm stupid Pitch looked down on me, lip twitching with disgust, my way—not a hair out of place and his suit too fitted for an 11-year-old—, and that was it.
He hated me.
I could have lived with that, with his loathing, if he hadn't been such a stupid, stuck-up, perfect, little asshole about it.
The Mage said a Chosen One has to be the bigger person, the one others always look up to. People count on me to be better than the Old Families, better than Baz Pitch. They haven't met the jerk, though.
He made (and still does) me miserable at any possibility he had. Never wastes an opportunity to talk down to me, call me names, mock me… He takes every chance. But I am tired of it.
And tonight, I didn't want to be the good Chosen One, the most generous, the kind one. I wanted to get him off me, go to sleep without crying, for a change.
So, I turned around and yelled at him:
"You know what? For once, I wish you were me to see what it feels like."
The room became silent, the fight out of us gone, when we felt the words said with magic, the phrase catching the literal meaning of it—my magic does that all the time; that's why Baz bullies me—, pulling at us as the Crucible once did.
But it wasn't Baz's stupid face I was staring at. It was mine.
Baz looked down at himself—at me, at my body that he was now inside of. And then looked up and shouted with my squeaky voice:
"What the fuck have you done, Snow?"
I stared at him as the magic worked on me, forcing me to answer.
"I don't know," I admitted with Baz's voice.
So, yeah…
This wasn't the first year I hoped for. And now I'm trapped in the body of the person I hate the most.
Great.