Chapter Text
October 7th, 2026
Fiona turned 18, no one was aware of the fact just yet. Blame it on it being midnight and the date having just changed to the day of her birth day.
Regardless, there was no doubt in her mind that even in the morning, no one would remember it.
Fiona lived alone in a one bedroom apartment in some Indian city because her parents had divorced and her mother being Indian, moved back to her homeland.
Hers would forever the small town in Scotland where her parents raised her—where her father still lived, now with his new wife and step-children.
She would've started college if it wasn't for the abrupt turn her life had taken, being a minor when the divorce happened, there had still been the matter of custody.
Not anymore, she moved out the beginning of the month after saving up in advance.
It didn't fill the void in her, a void that would probably never be filled because all her life, she spent hating it.
How could one learn to love something they've hated for so long?
There was never an answer, in all the books she has tried to hide away in, or the diaries she poured out her soul in.
So she put on the clothes she had picked out for her birthday and walked out alone.
She was empty, and the air rising from the river was cold—it was a sort of comfort spot when she was younger and visited the country.
Now, it felt taunting.
There hadn't been a letter, she didn't bother writing one, no one would even notice she was gone until a day or two.
She jumped from the bridge and embraced the cold.
The earth pulled her in her arms, the water weighted down her lungs and made her brain numb.
She reached out to touch the moon one last time, then it was done.
There was light, and sounds. Of people.
That confused her, is this what being dead felt like? She did remember jumping over that bridge, surely she wasn't saved.
The lack of hysterics and softness of the bed made it hard to believe. Her mother would sob a river enough to drown her again and the hospital bed was never this soft.
So her question. What had happened?
Peering her eyes open, she decided to see for herself, there was a blanket over her body, she pushed it off and located the light source to be the sun making itself known on the horizon.
Allowing herself to look around the unfamiliar room, she wasn't sure what was going on.
There was the bed, then a closet made of dark wood, a desk in the corner and a tall bookshelf, she could make it out as the sun rose higher.
"Elowen, love are you awake?" The door to the room opended and a woman, possibly in her 40s revealed herself.
For a moment, there was no response until she realised she was the only one in the room. Elowen?
"Yes, yes I'm up," she croaked out wondering if this was some very vivid hallucination or an after death experience.
"Wonderful, ready yourself unless you want to be late for your train," the woman smiled kindly and left, the odd gown she wore swishing around her feet.
"What was that about?" She murmured to herself slowly getting up, allowing herself to take a better look around.
The room in itself was a beauty, appreciating her brain's creativity, she slid out of the bed.
Taking a wild guess on the other door being a bathroom, she found herself correct and strolled inside.
The lights turned on automatically which she found was a rather pleasant thing.
If any part of her had found the room to be exorbitant, the bathroom put it to shame, black marbles and gold finishing everywhere and a full body mirror stood there next to a lavish bathtub.
"This is so sick," she commented as she noticed the counter—full of bottles and bottles of who knows what.
One in particular caught her attention: Potter's solution to frizzy hair.
Her left eye twitched at the name. Potter? As in Harry Potter? It made her think back to the fanfictions where James Potter's family had a hair products business.
Smiling she put the bottle down and looked into the mirror, something she should've done alot sooner.
Reflected back to her was a body she hadn't seen in some years, gone was her height and piercings, replaced by baby fat and underdeveloped curves.
If that was her dying experience, she wasn't too happy about being 15 in it.
With a groan she turned towards the shower instead, and after fumbling around taps and getting sprayed by water from random directions, she managed to get the shower on.
Atleast this time she knew how to do her skincare properly, her body was the one that was 15, not her mind.
The hot water cascaded down on her skin until it flushed pink and the shower smelled like caramel.
The bath products were exceptional, she found when she was turned off the shower and squeezed the water out of her hair. Light steam rose from her flushed skin as she soothed it with lotion and a knock came upon the door.
"Miss Rosewood, Livi leaves your robes on the bed," announced a squeaky voice and she wondered what that was about. Surely whoever that was referred to clothes as robes.
Satisfied by the fact that the shampoo actually reduced the frizz in her hair, she left the bathroom room wrapped in only a towel.
The sun was now shining through the window, the light excruciating in her humble opinion, but it did made the room light up nicely and highlighted what she had previously failed to notice.
The room was huge, a soft ice blue rug to soften the floor and the bed was queen sized with brown bedding and forest green curtains embroided with blossoms. Laid out on it were actual robes.
Facepalming herself and once again applauding her brain of it's creativity she picked up the robes. Studied it while holding it up, they were uniform robes.
Her eyebrows grazed her hairline when she noticed the symbol on the cloak—the symbol of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Hogwarts? Seriously?" Amused she pulled the clothes on, a part of her was finding this whole thing very much interesting.
Death didn't seem so bad if this is what one experienced in their last moment.
The uniform fit perfectly and she didn't bother with the cloak yet, deciding upon carrying it for now.
The next part of what was to be done confused her. What now? Surely this would end soon and she'd actually die?
Right?
No.
The door was opened again and she barely held back a scream when a house elf stepped inside wrapped in a tea towel.
"Miss Rosewood? Your parents have sent Livi to bring you down," the elf—Livi said and she recognised the squeaky voice from earlier.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat she managed to respond, "yes, ofcourse Livi, thank you for getting me."
Livi tipped her head and turned around, this time she followed him.
This was slowly losing to make sense, surely this wasn't afterlife? Or was it?
Outside, she realised the house she was in was the most wonderful she had witnessed ever.
Walls covered in wallpapers of softest shade of beige and browns, carpeted floor and dark wood staircase from which she followed Livi down, there were portraits on the wall of people she didn't recognise and finally they turned into what was obviously the kitchen.
The same woman from earlier sat on the kitchen table—a very posh kitchen table—alongside a man around the same age as her also wearing robes.
Both looked up when she entered and the woman offered a smile first, "Elowen, we've been waiting for you, dear."
"Had a good night, child?" The man greeted over a cup of coffee and a kind smile.
What?
She blinked, then because it would be rude she responded, "sorry, I took long."
The woman laughed politely and motioned to the seat across herself. "There's nothing to apologise dear, it all must be very confusing for you still."
Mind buzzing, she took the seat appointed to her and looked at the woman expectantly.
It was the man who spoke up, "Elowen, I'm sure you have questions?"
"Yes, what is going on?" She asked simply, no hesitation.
"Oh, you see something happened," the man began, eyes crinkling at the corner like he was about to crack the joke of the century. "It was a miracle, you feel through what we call a timeline."
"I.." for a moment she sat there stunned, then cautiously, "I'm not dead?"
He let out a surprised laugh at her lack of filter and shook his head, "no, no, child. Not at all."
"But...but then—"
"We found you by the boundary of the property," the woman began speaking and she turned her attention to her.
"We lost our baby girl days after she was born and now," she sniffled, the man's hand coming to rest over her shoulder for a gentle squeeze. "We found you then, last week, when it was supposed to be her birthday."
"Last week?" Apparently that was what she gathered from the story the woman had to tell.
"Yes, you were asleep for a whole week."
The next few moments were filled with silence, she wasn't dead. She remembered dying, remembered the water filling her lungs and giving up on life.
"What now?" She felt truly vulnerable right now, Hogwarts was real in wherever this world was. This whole thing wasn't a creation of her brain in its last moments.
This was terrifying.
"You are our daughter now, Elowen." They both said with smile so soft she almost believed things would be alright.
But then, "My name isn't Elowen though."
"It is now, my sweets," the woman got up from her chair and circled around to her, one of her hand cupped her cheek.
"You are Elowen Rosewood, heiress to the Rosewood family," her voice was soft, there was no ill intent, but the woman was also missing a crucial detail.
Fiona was never supposed to be here, she wasn't Emrys. She didn't try to take her life in their world.
"Now now, ladies, we must eat before we are in danger of running late," the man chimed and the house elf from earlier came bustling in, using its magic to levitate the dishes.
"Can I ask you something?" She inquired, once their attention was back on her she presented her question. "What date is it?"
"It is september 1st," the woman seemed to perk up more. "You don't need to fret over anything, your letter had arrived here and your father and I personally shopped for you."
She blinked, father? Surely they were not expecting her to start calling these random people her parents?
The food was set out infront of them and she wasn't going to act like she wasn't starving.
"Oh, that's wonderful, but I..." She acted to ponder for a moment, sure these people had no idea she's known this life as a story, but precisely because they had no idea, "I'm not sure where my wand is."
"We had our doubts about that as well." The man—her father—spoke up as he poured himself some more coffee. "So I had Ollivander bring in wands he thought might suit you based on your sizing."
She choked on air they what? Pretending that it was a piece of toast and not air she choked up on, she nodded. "That...I..thank you, I appreciate it."
"What will you say if anyone questioned about me?" She hadn't meant to ask it, but she couldn't help it as she poured some coffee.
"You had been abroad in France and transferred to Hogwarts for your fifth year."
The explanation made sense, she accepted it.
"Elowen, come take a look at the wands if you're done," the father told her as he stood up with a graceful motion.
Nodding, she followed, unfortunately her 15 year old body had nowhere as much grace.
Silence descended between them as she followed him down the hallway into an office where a bunch of boxes rested on a table.
"Let's not be too late, eh?" He shuffled forward and began to open box after box before handing her one that made her feel sick just by looking at it.
"Not this one then?" The father wasn't let down by that, instead he looked almost impressed as he unboxed another one.
This one she took from him, it was soothing to touch, cool handle and she pressed her thumb slightly to the end of it.
She considered it, then yelped as the wand fell from her grip and her thumb felt slightly burnt.
The father laughed, delighted. "Excellent, my daughter, I knew Ollivander is no good for a Rosewood."
What he meant by that, she didn't question, letting him answer it as he abandoned the boxes and moved towards the shelves in the back instead.
He came back with a wand that made her breath catch, a piece of art.
"There."
She was reaching for it before he offered it to her, it was calling for her like a siren. Warmth rushed to her and it settled in her bones.
It was the unique, she was sure, it had to be. She never knew wands could look like this, it smelled distinctly of jasmine. A paw print was carved into the handle. It was a masterpiece, it was hers.
"What kind of wand?"
"Jasmine wood, 10 inches, dragon heartstring." He provided, face bright with a proud smile.
What he was proud about, she wasn't sure. So she took a guess.
"This..you made this wand yourself?" She questioned as they began out to the hallway.
"Yes, I'm a wand maker, unlike Ollivanders, we supply for overseas mostly."
Now that she thought about it, maybe this wasn't so bad, in a sense she was indeed dead. Fiona was. This family wasn't bad either, if this world was anything like what she read, it was clear the Rosewoods were purebloods.
"Oh look at you two already getting along." The woman was ecstatic when they entered the living room.
"Now I want nothing more than sit down and talk to you, I do not wish for you to miss the train."
The woman exchanged a look with her husband and they both smiled, they looked in love.
I can work with this.
"How are we going to the station?" Elowen asked, stomach coiling with nerves and genuine excitement.
It was her dream come true.
"Livi, be a dear and go ahead with the luggage?" She announced instead of answering directly, then she offered her a smile.
"We'll take the floo network."
The idea of floo did seem a little unnerving to her, but she was here now.
So taking a handful of the powder she stepped into the fireplace and "Kings cross station." She cried.
Before she knew it, green flames enveloped her and she was in freefall with nothing before the sounds reached her and she landed firmly on her feet—in a woman's toilet, feet barely missing the stall.
"Fucking hell?" She grumbled and stepped out, smoothing out her skirt as a similar crashing sound came from beside her and the woman stepped out, cheeks flushed.
"That was the too bad, was it?" She voiced looking definitely uncomfortable.
"Definitely," Elowen smirked over her and they both began to walk out where the father was waiting already.
"Did we make you wait too long, Oliver?"
"None at all, my love," the man—Oliver.
Elowen was genuinely glad she finally knew his name as they walked towards the platforms.
"You know what to do, don't you?" The woman confirmed and Elowen returned a nod.
Running at the wall felt too ungrateful, so she decided on walking at the wall between the two platforms. That way if this was somehow a dream, she won't slam straight into a wall.
The wall didn't solidify the last moment and she was utterly glad for it, but nothing would've prepared her for the other side.
Her knees buckled regardless, it hit her in full force then. She was going to Hogwarts, this was a different world.
A giant steam engine with the emblem on it and a platform filled with magic so thick she could taste it on her tongue. It wasn't just a different world, it was a different era.
The 70s she would guess if the date in the newspaper stacked on the corner was any indication, specifically, 1976.
Her supposedly parents were giving her space, allowing her to take it in, but there was only one thought buzzing in her mind.
1976, if her hunch was even one bit correct then—
"Oh, look it's Auntie Circe!" Someone had exclaimed, her heart jumped as a tall boy with unruly hair and glasses came in sight.
Her stomach lurched, it could be anyone. Anyone at all..
"Oh you've certainly grown over the summer, James."
The boy beamed again and she was done for. James Potter, in the flesh, and she hadn't even recovered before three more boys showed up behind him.
Not to be dramatic, but Elowen wished she could jump into a river once again. Not only did the marauders existed, she ws somehow related to James Potter. .
She had once turned 18, had been confident and tall and somewhat attractive.
At 15, right now, she was only mortified.
"Who's that?" He perked up, his attention turning to her.
Her face flushed before she could stop the reaction, "I.. I'm Elowen," she murmured quickly looking away before her heart gave out.
He tilted his head but didn't push, something she was grateful for.
"Where is my darling sister, young man?" Circe caught on her awkwardness took over.
"She left early, had to go to St. Mungo's," he offered the explanation.
She consciously zoned out of the conversation, her nerves were overwhelming without looking at any of the marauders towering them.
"Feeling alright, dear?" A hand came to rest atop her head and she flinched only to find Oliver hovering with a concerned smile.
"Yeah, just a little nerves," she smiled reassuringly, oddly, that helped.
"You should board the train then, wouldn't want you running late, hmm?"
"Yeah, that sounds good," she nodded straightening up.
Nervous or not, she wasn't going to fuck up this chance at her dream life.
It didn't take long to realise that her dream life had very different plans when the marauders somehow piled into the empty compartment she scavenged for herself.
Her palms were getting sweaty, and Remus Lupin of all was sitting beside her!
"I'm James Potter, Auntie said you're her daughter, that would make us cousins." James broke the ice, and she forced herself to meet his eyes.
She really wished she had actually died, because it was impossible to look James Potter in the eyes.
She nodded, "yeah, that's me, Elowen."
"Sirius Black," if it hadn't been obvious before, it was now, Sirius Black with dark curls and cheekbones that made her feel self-conscious. Sirius Black with a Trex tshirt and leather jacket, and very obviously a shit ton of attitude.
"Remus Lupin," Lupin gazed down at her from beside, being honest, his scars were sexy. Very sexy.
"I'm Peter," who just entered with what looked like a bag of dungbombs grinned at her.
"Are those dungbombs?" She blurted out, gaze shining at the idea. She always wondered what they were like.
"Weren't there any back in your fancy french school?" Sirius commented and if his dislike for her had been misinterpreted earlier. This clarified the doubt.
She wouldn't care, but this was her fictional crush. Had been since she was a teen.
Cutting through the tension with ease, James instead launched into the explanation for an elaborate plan they would execute tonight itself.
She looked out of the window instead, they came to sit with her, not the other way around. She was allowed to ignore them for the rest of the ride if she wanted to.
Watching the trees passing by, one thing she knew was that her life would never be the same, and there was much to worry about.
She didn't had the chance to go through the stuff bought for her, so she'd have to make up for whatever she lacked by visiting hogsmeade.
The sun was slowly setting, a truly beautiful sight. This decade didn't seem all that bad, she did miss having a hoodie, she pondered if Circe would allow muggle clothes.
She doubted in her ability to adress her now parents as mother or father. She was born to two different people, not a glorious childhood, she didn't remember half of it, but it had been hers.
It hit her with a start that it was finally now that she even thought about her parents.
It hit her hard that she was dead to them. She killed herself on her 18th birthday, it was so painfully poetic and yet she wasn't dead.
"Elowen?"
James snapped his fingers infront of her. She blinked to focus her eyes on him.
"Sorry, what?" She murmured apologetically, Sirius chose that moment to click his tongue irritably.
"The trolley's coming, you want anything?"
The trolley.
The trolley! She offered a smiled hoping it was enough, "no, I don't."
She stood up, reaching for her cloak that she earlier discarded and with a mumbled excuse for air left the compartment.
Elowen strolled down the corridor until she found a door that looked most likely to be a washroom. Thanking heavens that she was right, she locked herself in.