27th of March,1960
On the 27th night of the third month of the year, a set of twins were welcomed into the world. A boy and a girl, a mere 3 minutes apart, were born into the Potter family. The girl was named Anastasia, meaning 'resurrection,' as she had given their lives new meaning, or 'resurrected' something in them. The merry couple chose to name their son, James, meaning 'supplanter' or 'the one who follows' for the way his eyes always followed the form of his older twin sister.
1st of August, 1971
“James, come on!” I shouted, pulling my brother towards Eeylops Owl Emporium. His feet stubbornly remained where they were, planted on the pavement. Rolling his eyes, my twin sighed.
“No Anya, we have to wait for Mum and Dad, you know that,” he explained, tilting his head to the blue sky and groaning. I knew he was right, but I was hoping he had forgotten. I was just so excited! After wanting an owl for years, I was finally going to get one! It was of course due to my brother and I going to Hogwarts, but that only seemed to excite me more.
“Fine!” I shouted, not truly upset. Pouting, I stomped over to Flourish and Blotts, where Mum and Dad were buying our school books.
“Of course you start listening to the rules once breaking them benefits me.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Everything else that was needed, we had already bought. Now it was just our books and my owl. James already had a Great Grey Owl, named Ellie. He had gotten her for our eleventh birthday, earlier this year.
Letting my mind wander, I began thinking of the two kids we (James and I) had met earlier. The girl, Lily, had fiery red hair, a kind smile, and a spark in her eyes. It was no surprise that my brother had already taken a liking to her. I had actually become better friends with the boy, Severus. His kind and gentle personality seemed to compliment my own, determined and a bit loud. We just clicked. I was actually excited I already had friends in my year, as I had been worrying about making any. Continuing to think about the upcoming year, I didn’t notice my Mum and Dad pass me.
“Come on, Anya!” My mother, Euphemia called. I began working my way through the people, trying to catch up.
1st of September, 1971
The sorting process was nerve-wracking for every first year, but it made Anya particularly anxious. It wasn’t that she was afraid of which house she would be sorted into, no, she thought them all as equals. Anastasia was afraid she would be forced into a house without her brother.
It may not be obvious to outsiders, but this young witch would do anything for her younger twin brother. He was her first friend, and her only friend until recently. She couldn’t imagine life without him, and being sorted into a house he wasn’t in would be exactly that, life without him.
So when she sat on the stool, her eyes skimmed the Great Hall, looking for her twin brother. She found James sitting at the Gryffindor table, chatting with some friends they had met on the Hogwarts Express, which included Molly, Arthur, Remus, Sirius, and their friend from Diagon Alley, Lily. Snape had been sorted into Slytherin, so if she was sorted there, she had at least him. Looking away from her new friends and at the hands in her lap, she listened to the Sorting Hat. After a few minutes of conversation, she was given a choice. Go to her rightful house, Slytherin, or go to her brother’s house, Gryffindor.
Anya’s heart shattered, knowing she could never choose Gryffindor. Sure, she would be with her brother, but at what cost? In Gryffindor, she would be miserable, even with James, because she would never become half the witch she’s meant to. In Slytherin, Anastasia would flourish, and be the best she could. She would still have Snape and could make new friends.
The young witch soon found herself sitting at the Slytherin table, talking to Snape and some of his new friends, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Narcissa. Looking over the top of their friends, she saw her brother and her friends waving and smiling, and that brought tears to her eyes.
The following years were truly amazing, and no matter what she did, Anastasia could not bring herself to regret her decision to join Slytherin. She adored her fellow snakes. The Slytherins were, despite common belief, extremely compassionate, protective, and wonderful friends. The house of the snakes treated each other as though they were all family, which they were! The Potter heiress couldn’t have asked for a better home at her beloved school. Living up to the Sorting Hat’s words, here she truly flourished.
After years of staying up late to study, or trading a trip to Hogsmeade for practice, Anya climbed the ranks, becoming the smartest witch of her year, if not age. As the time passed the witch grew calmer and held an air of intelligence around her. However, she was anything but arrogant, and her sense of humor was splendid. What with her smarts, she always had a witty comeback.
The witch’s personality was not the only thing that matured, and she was soon nothing short of bewitching. (Heheheh) Her long, thick black hair fell perfectly and slightly curled at the end, down her back, framing her face. And what a beautiful face it was, with a button nose, full lips, cheekbones and a jawline that could cut someone, her slightly brown complexion, and round doe eyes.
Her eyes were easily her best feature, and unlike her brothers, were not hidden by glasses. They were a bright blue that told others, ‘I am smart, I am fierce, I am dangerous’. They had a mysterious and mischievous glint to them, and would always observe the area around her cautiously. This was due to the fact that her twin and his friends were always trying to prank her, which she and her friends would get them back for without mercy, thus beginning the prank war that lasted for 2 years.
Anastasia was fierce, blunt, and honest. She was also, however, calm in tough situations. With her legendary mind, she was the first one to figure out that her friend, Remus, was a werewolf. Using that knowledge, Ana became a registered animagus, with the help of Professor McGonagall, to help him throughout the nights he needed it. Being an arctic fox, he often tried to chase her as she ran.
Anya soon rid her friends, Lucius, Bellatrix, (who was like a sister to her,) and Narcissa of their prejudices, and they helped the light in any way they could. She was one of the leaders and did everything she could to enforce inner house unity, and her hard work paid off.
Even with the ever-rising threat of Voldemort, (she refused to acknowledge him as a lord) she enjoyed life, and to her, it was perfect and she was content. Until her fifth year….
I laughed joyously with my friends, taking time to enjoy the cold weather. Snow fell gently upon us, covering the already white ground in yet another blanket. It glittered in the air, creating a picture-like feel. I was walking with my Slytherin friends and Lily. We just came back from Honeydukes and were walking back to Hogwarts.
“Oh, schist!” I cried. Bellatrix turned to me with a startled look on her face, probably there because my exclamation was so sudden and loud.
“What's up?” Bellatrix asked quietly, placing a gloved hand on my shoulder.
“I’d forgotten that I have to meet up with the Marauders today! Do you mind if I start heading to the shrieking shack?” I had completely forgotten! I just hope that they weren’t too worried.
Lucius, who was walking up ahead with Narcissa, turned around to answer. “Well go on then!” He shouted, his arm around his girlfriend’s cloaked shoulders. She, of course, turned to smack him for shouting in her ear.
“Thanks, guys! I’ll see you later!” I called back, speed walking down the path. It was far too slippery to run, but I needed to get there quickly. Passing Severus and Lily, who had remained a bit behind the rest of the group, Severus offered me company.
“Do you want us to come with you, Anya?” He asked tentatively, holding Lily’s hand. (AN: No they aren't dating, this story is most definitely Jily)
I turned and look back at them, “No thanks Severus, I can get there on my own. Thanks for the offer though!”
“Say ‘hello’ for us!” Narcissa asked, done scolding her boyfriend for shouting in her ear.
“Will do Cissy! Bye guys!” I shouted as they waved goodbye. Laughing, I once again began stumbling my way down the path.
Halfway there, I heard a twig snap. Knowing for sure that it wasn’t an animal and that I had no one else with me, I pulled my wand out of my pocket. Cautiously, I remained on the path, my eyes darting back and forth. My paranoia paid off, as I soon saw a black cloak in my peripheral vision. The last thing I saw was a familiar red and gold scarf.
Groaning, I blink, looking at my surroundings. Surprise surprise, they were unfamiliar. I let my eyes adjust to the lack of light, before looking around again. The room was almost completely devoid of light, leaving me in the dark. There was something about it that sent shivers down my spine, whether or not it was due to the cold, I was unsure.
One thing I was sure of, was my raging headache. Letting out another groan, I attempted to bring my shaking, frigid hand to my temple, to at least move my long hair out of my eyes, as it had long since fallen out of its braid.
It was stopped a few inches away from my face, and I heard the clanking of chains. Looking down, I noticed my bracelet shining back at me, standing out against the dull, rusted chains that were restricting my movement.
“What in the-?” I whispered. After careful deduction and a few more minutes, I thought it was safe to assume I was in a study or a meeting hall of sorts. The floor was a dark polished wood and covered by a large rectangle cream carpet. Resting upon that carpet was a long black table, with chairs surrounding the two sides. One of the ends of the table had no chairs, whereas its parallel had one.
I was lying (or chained) next to the fireplace, which took up most of the wall. Two chandeliers hung over the table, and two pillars stood opposite each other behind the lone chair, which is where I assumed the leader of these meetings sat.
Continuing to look around, I noticed a Golden Urn on the fireplace mantel shelf, odd. My chains were tethered to a goldenrod next to the fireplace, which I guessed was only there for this occasion.
Last I remember I had taken out my wand…. my wand! Quickly, while trying to make as little noise as possible, I reached into my robes pocket. Finding the familiar tool there, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. What kind of dumbass kidnaps a witch and doesn’t take away her wand?
‘Obviously the leader of this group of kidnappers wasn’t an idiot, so one of the lesser witches or wizards must have done it. They might not have told the leader that I still have my wand, so if I can keep it hidden, I may have a chance if they confront me.’
The door slammed open, the sound echoing throughout the large room, and interrupting my train of thought. I quickly drew my hand out of my pocket, to seem as innocent as possible. The lack of warmth startled me, but I kept a straight face. An eerie voice soon reached my ears.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here, Wormtail?” It said, sounding almost..amused. The sound of bare feet on the ground soon drew closer. I snapped my head up at the name, Wormtail? That’s what we call Peter! Maybe this is all a prank! Sighing in relief, I look up to see a set of startling features.
The skin was sickeningly pale, and almost translucent, bringing attention to the veins underneath. The eyes were a deep blood red, with slanted pupils, like those of a snake’s. The mouth had no lips, and the nose was but two slashes in the face to allow breathing.
‘Voldemort, one of the deadliest wizards there is, has...no...nose’
To my horror, a giggle made its way past my lips. The dark wizard’s head snapped up to reach my gaze, startled. This little giggle fit soon became full out laughing, and his startled look soon turned to one of anger, anger at the thought that a witch was mocking him.
His outraged shout reverberated, startling me, and abruptly stopping my laughing fit. A more serious feeling filled the room, tinted with anger.
“Voldemort,” I say sweetly, raising an eyebrow, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” My voice carrying a mocking tone, I looked the fiend straight in the eyes. A sign of disrespect to the purebloods.
“Anastasia Potter.” He spits, seething. “I have been watching you from afar, for many a year now. A Potter in Slytherin? How did Mummy and Daddy react to that?” He sneered, probably hoping for a negative response. My heart soared at the mention of my parents, ever so supporting. A certain warmth filled me, fighting off the cold of the room.
“As a matter of fact ,” I paused for effect, (and to tick him off) “they were quite proud.” I firmly stated.
A disappointed look was seen in his snake-like features, even if only for a fleeting moment. Putting up his confident facade again, he began to speak. “I should hope so, after all, you are quite a powerful witch.”
He began pacing in front of me, his hand trailing along the smooth surface of the table. The silence was almost worse than the sound of his voice.
A sinking feeling made its way into my stomach, but I continued nonetheless, not letting my mask slip for a second. “So I have heard, Voldy.” I sneered, as he made a look at the nickname.
“Hmmm…Well, let me offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity.” He said, bringing out his wand, and quickly pointing it at me. “ Wormtail!” The Dark Lord barked.
“Yes...m-master.” A familiar voice said, weak, and afraid from the shadows by the door. Ooh, I should have known. Of course , it would be spineless Peter to betray us. He walked closer to the dark wizard, seemingly more afraid of me than him. That thought brought me joy. He should be.
“PETER! YOU SLIMY-” I began, cut off by some spine-chilling laughs. My volume and outrage seemed to startle Peter, as he flinched, frozen with fright. Our eyes met, my gaze blazing with anger and a promise. A promise to murder him as soon as I got the chance.
“Oh, my dear Anastasia, who else do you think brought you here?” Turning my head, I met his eyes again. He, too, seemed startled by the look in my eyes. He should be afraid . “Oh, I don’t know ,” I began, teeming with anger and betrayal, “maybe a noseless , bald , shit-for-brains- ”
“Enough!” He roared, enraged that a ‘ blood traitor’ as myself had the gall to insult him. I rolled my eyes as he stomped like a child throwing a fit, and the tramp of his feet against the polished wood was heard.
“You see, my dear ,” he spat, walking closer to me, “you are a most pertinent pawn in this war. You are not only the ‘Queen of Slytherin’ but also the ‘Princess of Gryffindor’. Not to mention that you have all of the *cough* light side wrapped around your finger…” His robes billowed around his feet as he walked away. Peter still stood there, scared out of his mind.
What? What the hell is he talking about?
Voldemort continued, not noticing my evident confusion. “Your brother is a lost cause, but you my sweet..” he turns, far too close to me for me to be comfortable, and reaches his pale hand up to caress my cheek. Shuddering, I pulled away, the pole digging into my back, and the shackles cutting into my wrists. They had long since been rubbed raw by now, and would most definitely scar. “You are full of so much potential , and with you by my side, young one, I would be un stoppable !”
Satisfied with his speech, he and spineless begin walking away, to leave the room for preparations I suppose. They must’ve assumed that my silence was a yes. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
What the actual-?
“No,” I said boldly. I was pissed, and they could tell.
He whirls around, bewildered that anyone would turn down a chance at power.
“No, I will not join you. I am not a tool, not a ‘chance at power.’ I am a powerful witch , and I will damn well act like one. ” I screech, angry at the thought of being used. The room seemed to get smaller as the Dark Lord stomped towards me.
“Anastasia, do you understand that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity? Not many people get this chance, do know how many people would kill to be in your spot right now?!” He explained, confused and angry, trying to get his point across. It brought me to the conclusion that he was in denial, and thought I had misunderstood the offer.
“Yes, I do, and that thought disgusts me!” I spat, now trying to get my point across. The chill in the room turned into a bite, the whimpers of Peter, who was now closer to the door, were drowned out by the heated argument.
“Anastasia, I will ask you this only once more, take the dark mark or else. ” He said.
“Or else what?” I hissed. “Or else you’ll kill me? Have me begging for mercy? Try me, ” I paused, spitting the next few words, “I said , Try. Me. Bitch .” I then proceeded to actually spit on his feet, as he walked closer to me.
He whirled around, a murderous look in his blood red eyes. “Crucio!” He screamed, done with my relentless taunting. The once cold bite to the air turned to mercy, as sweat poured off of me, some getting into my eyes, burning them. Despite the murderous intent behind the curse, I only let out a grunt, not willing to give him satisfaction.
I fell to the ground, putting all my focus into mentally contacting my brother. With my shackled hand in my pocket, with a firm grip on my wand, I began to hear him. His whispers of my name soon turned to screams. I had forgotten that I was supposed to be at the Shrieking Shack Merlin knows how long ago, and he would already be worried.
‘Anya..ANYA! Anya where are you?’ His frantic tone brought a smile to my face, however painful. He was worried. Knowing my concentration wouldn’t last that long, I tried to tell him where I was.
‘Voldemort...got me...long table...it was Pet-’
“Enough!” Voldemort cried, breaking my concentration. Dammit.
With a sadistic smile, the wretched excuse of a human being in front of me spoke.
“Have it your way… Goodbye Ms. Potter” He spoke, a ghastly gleam in his eyes..
Knowing what was to come, I reached through to James. ‘Goodbye...brother.’
It all happened in seconds. As soon as the killing curse left his lips, a green light left his wand. In horrifying fascination, I watched as the lightning danced around the room, towards me. One hand on my wand, and the other in front of my face in instinctual defense, the curse hit me.
Instead of greeting death, the lightning continued to dance, now with me as it’s partner. The light dancing underneath my skin, I felt a surge of power, and not pain. Ending a beautiful waltz, the emerald on my snake bracelet began to glow green, as had the blood in my veins. The curse seemed to backfire, as a brilliant blue light, that had once been green, left me and bolted towards the dark wizard. But instead of hitting the pale, bald, and noseless man, it missed, hitting the mirror sitting upon the wall behind him. It, once more, changed direction, and hit the urn above me, on the mantel shelf. Said Urn fell and hit the floor with a loud crash. The lid flew open and with another flash of similar golden light, and the sinking feeling you get when you apparate, I disappeared.
The Passageway and The Urn
INFO ON THE URN
The Urn is the Doorway/Gateway to a different plane of existence, known as The Passageway or as a slang term, Limbo.
The Passageway or Limbo is the world between worlds and can appear many different ways, all according to how you got there in the first place.
For Anya, it was a long hallway, crisp and clean. The brilliant white color to everything hurt the young witch’s eyes, causing her to squint. Screens adorned the walls, each showing what seemed to be another world entirely.
There are Millions of Universes, which are any Fandom, Game, Book, Movie, TV series, you name it. They each have a screen there. At first, you would see a map of the Universe. You can see what happens currently, and if you are powerful enough you can see glimpses of the future.
When you are in Limbo you don’t age, even if you enter another universe. Only in your own world, can you age. But you also can’t die in Limbo or the other worlds. Well, at least not permanently. If you die in another Universe you are simply brought back to Limbo. But there is a catch, there is a curse placed on the person who enters and stays for more than 4 years. It is called The Curse of a Saviour.
THE CURSE OF A SAVIOUR
The Curse is very complicated. The curse states that you, the person who enters, will be taken to a Universe that needs help, desperately. You must befriend the inhabitants of that world and help them, whether you help the good or the bad, is your choice. That help that they need desperately, is always a life or death matter. You, the person who came from Limbo, will have to take their death and save the person, ultimately sacrificing yourself. You will feel the pain of the death but will end up in Limbo once again.
But the Curse is not cruel. Before you die, You will be taken to a pocket dimension with the people you befriended. In that pocket dimension, you will have 5 minutes to explain everything. You are also given a talisman from one of your friends and it will be enchanted so that you may keep in touch with your friends and that Universe. Then you will be taken back to the place you were about to "die” in and you would “die” and be taken back to Limbo.
But what most people don’t know is that everytime you save another innocent person from dying in a world, you earn a life. It is like a free life. If someone “kills you” in your own world or you save someone else from dying in your original Universe, you wouldn’t die, you would just lose a life. More like a video game, than anything else. Each time you save a life you get a small black star on your left wrist, similar to a birthmark. The more lives you save, the lives more you get and as a result, you get those stars.
The curse will take you to a to a new Universe every 4 years that you are in the passageway…4 years in your original world. (AN: Because the time won’t be the same, right?) You will get 15 minutes to get your stuff together and then a mirror portal will show up. The mirror portal will tell you everything you need to know and then you step inside and are whisked away to the new Universe. But it will not tell you where you are going, you must find out on your own. You are also given a mirror, also known as a mirror pod.
THE MIRROR POD
The Mirror is a way to contact The Lady of the Urn. It will also give you information and help you in the Universe. Think of it as a phone. You are given a rhyme, which is sort of like a phone number to directly call anyone you’d like before you leave Limbo. Each Mirror has a certain….magic, made by the fairy who lives in there, allowing it to work. The fairy will like a guide, and hopefully a lifelong friend.
THE LADY OF THE URN AND HEIRESS OF THE URN
The Lady of the Urn is a young woman who came from the Victorian Era. She is the current caretaker of Limbo and all the Urns (how you enter Limbo). She guards the worlds and uses her magic to keep the place lively. But she is looking for The Heiress, who is a girl that is part of a prophecy. The Prophecy states that the girl will be stuck in the urn for 21 years after an incident in her original world. She will be trained by the Lady of the Urn herself, but she will be oblivious to the fact that she is the Heiress. She will come into her inheritance when she needs the abilities it entails the most.
The powers the Heiress will possess are certainly not infinitesimal. ( Mwahahaha ) She can control many things and is very powerful. But if she takes the wrong path or if the powers are corrupted then she will suffer very greatly.
The Lady of the Urn’s name is Daphne. Daphne is a mentor for the soon to be Heiress of the Urn. She will know who they are as soon as the Heiress enters Limbo. She will then take the soon-to-be-Heiress under her wing and teach her the magic that she will need to be able to overcome all of her tasks. Once the Heiress overcomes all of her tasks, and only then, will her inheritance will kick in.
The Urns are the Doorway or Gateway to Limbo and to the other worlds. There are 2 Urns in each Universe, The Entrance Urn, and the Exit Urn. But they can only be activated if both are in the same room. All of the Universes always have the Urns in the same room. All except the Wizarding World.
THE WIZARDING WORLD’S URNS
The Urns of the wizarding world have a weird history in all. The urns have not been taken care of since “Merlin the Great” used it last, to get to Camelot. The Exit Urn has been rumored to have been destroyed and the pieces have been scattered. The Entrance Urn is still around but has not been documented in a long time. There is a rumor that a piece of the Exit Urn is hidden away in a jewel, but no one in the Wizarding World knows for sure.
THE URN OUTSIDE THE PASSAGEWAY
The Entrance Urn can turn into a portable necklace for the Heiress and the Exit Urn will turn into a bracelet to match. Furthermore, the Urns turned jewelry will always turn up around the Heiress. The necklace will look like this and the bracelet will look like this .
I closed the tattered book and looked up at the woman next to me, my eyes following her long frame up to her face, surrounded by soft, shoulder-length, warm brown hair, and equally warm brown eyes. The woman, whose name was apparently Daphne, held out her nimble-fingered hand. Hesitantly, I slid my calloused hand into her soft one, and we walked to the small cafe/bistro at the beginning of the hall. On the way, I thought of what she had said earlier, and her gentle voice.
I walked down the hall, confused, and scared. All previous anger had left me, letting my fear take over.
My footsteps ricocheted, and I wrapped my arms around my torso, hoping to mimic company, as it was not the quiet, but the emptiness that scared me.
My black hair swayed with my footsteps, having long since fallen out of its braid. Blowing out some air, I stopped walking and looked around.
A soft and gentle voice startled me, making me jump. Turning to face the source, I was met with the sight of a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman in white
A bit later...
The woman, or Daphne, with her voice of silk, said she would help prepare and train me, at least until I could figure out how to get back to the Wizarding World.
“Anastasia, do not be fooled. The training will be grueling, on your body, mind, and heart. Your head shall be toyed with, your body shall be beaten, and your heart broken beyond repair. Can you, or will you, voluntarily put yourself through that?” She asked me softly, her eyes watering and her smile sad. Contemplating what she said, I weighed my decisions, and it was just as clear as the choice the Sorting Hat gave me.
“Please,” my voice broke, “I need your help, get me back to my brother.” Hot tears streamed down my face, as the weight of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours crushed me. Soft arms adorned in velvet wrapped around me, and I leaned into the comforting embrace.
Back to the present…
Munching on a very delicious cookie from the café, I wondered what my new life would be like.
21 years later
Taking confident yet sorrowful strides, I made my way to the relics room. This death had been particularly awful and left me shaking. The Isle of The Lost called to me, and that only made it worse.
Yes, I had died in place of those I respected and called friend, but that did not make the experience any less painful for me physically, and I was nonetheless leaving them behind. (AN: It would be during Descendants 2) I had fallen off of Uma’s ship, saving both Harry Hook and King Ben. No, I did not regret it, but as my figure dropped into the cold waters and my feet now leaving a trail of seaweed, I knew I would be in for a lecture from Phoebe.
Sighing, my wet and still shaking hands struggled to open the glass case that would contain my relic for that world. After a few failed attempts, I managed to get the book on the pillow and close the case.
My boots still made sloshing noises as I walked back to my room, where I took a much-needed shower and changed, although the water gave me plenty of unpleasant flashbacks
Now in my silk nightgown, a gift from Elrond, I sighed and flopped ‘gracefully’ onto the couch that I kept by the fire. My thumb hovered over the lightning-shaped scar that marred my inner forearm, brushing it every now and then. The only thing I could thank the scar for was cruelly reminding me of the home I had lost. Looking down at said wrist I counted the small black stars and watched as more appeared, 2 instead of on this time
One, two, three, four, five…..and six.
“Ugh!” I shouted, my day catching up with me. My chest heaved, my breath short and heavy. Releasing another strangled cry, I threw my left hand across my eyes, wiping the tears that threatened to fall.
An abrupt ringing filled my ears as a sob escaped my lips. Swallowing any sorrow or anger or grief I had been showing, I walked over to the mantel, where the sound came from.
Grabbing the mirror pod off of the dusty shelf, I lifted it to my face. A bright light filled my sight as my sister’s face took up the spot my reflection had been only seconds ago.
“What is it?” I croaked, and bite or malice I had intended coming out as sorrow. The little fairy’s face crumpled, a disheartened look making its way on her features. “Oh hun,” she spoke sympathetically, “I know the timing couldn’t be worse, but you have another destination.”
Phoebe's voice filled my head. Sniffling and wiping my eyes, I nodded, a meek smile on my face. “Why don’t you go get changed while I pack your bag? That sound alright?”
With a grateful gesture from me, I shut off the mirror pod and sprinted to my room. Throwing off the nightgown I opened the chest of elven clothing I owned. This would be most convenient, and in these, I had the most mobility. And mobility, especially when I didn’t know where I was going, was a necessity. I picked out the outfit before retreating into the bathroom, where I could change and not bother my fairy friend, who was so graciously packing for me.
I slid on the simple long-sleeved white tunic, before shrugging on the green waistcoat over it. My leggings fit snugly and the comfort of my leather boots was undoubtedly second to none. My knives and wand went in their holsters on my belt, in my shoes.
I put on my quiver, a gift from Snow White, that came along with a bow that was resting downstairs, and left the quiver to rest on my hip. This favoured weapon of mine had been given to me by some friends back in Storybrooke, and it, so far, had never failed me.
Each arrow was a different colour, having a twin; every color served a different purpose. For example: the green were soaked in quick-working neurotoxins or toxins that eat flesh and destroy tissue; the red was dipped in a concoction of modified hemlock, so instead of paralyzing the respiratory system and causing death by lack of oxygen, it paralyzed the whole body, and wasn't lethal; the purple will emit a slimy substance specifically engineered to stop anything or anyone in their tracks, and so on.
Quiver bouncing on my hip with my long strides, I reached for the clothing hung over the back of a chair, and swung the cloak over my shoulders. It was light, and a leaf clasp held it together, signifying its origin. There would be no mistaking I was from Rivendell or Mirkwood, no, this was a Lothlorien cloak. Making haste, I quickly braided my hair, a side fishtail resting on my left shoulder, as my friends had done many times before. My hands flowed through the black locks of hair nimbly, relying on muscle memory.
The light fabric of the forest green cloak flowed behind me as I hurried over to the mirror. Taking a few handfuls of water I washed my face off and was satisfied one it looked like I hadn’t been crying. Swallowing a large gulp of air, I nodded at my reflection.
You can do this, it’s okay. It’s okay, Anya.
Once I had gathered all my courage together, I went back into the bedroom.
Nodding at my faithful friend, whom I passed on my way into the room she just left, I picked up the bag she had packed, and she assured me it held: some clothes, old and new, new ones that were gifts from Evie, Dizzy, and Uma with assorted accessories; some weapons, from my elven, dwarfish, and avenging friends, with the new swords from the Isle; the few talismans from the worlds I traveled to, some birthday gifts from Daphne and Phoebe: and lastly my old wizarding wand, a reminder of my past and where I came from.
Slinging the brown crossbody bag over my cloaked torso, I walked over to my bookshelf. Grabbing some books that held helpful information, (which most definitely included The Passageway and The Urn ) I practically threw them in the bag as well. Checking that I had everything I would need, I walked back over to the fireplace shelf, where I had left the Message Mirror; That too went in my bag. I picked up my bow , a beautiful recurve bow with a black wood finish, a wrapped burgundy handle, and grey faux fur tips. Its beauty never failed to put me in a state of awe.
I turned to face my friend and my surrogate mother, my eyelashes wet with tears. However fidgety, Phoebe stood still, her arms open and inviting. I jumped into them, hugging my dearest friend.
“I love you, and I am so, so proud of you.” She whispered into my braided hair, as I nodded, my face in her shoulder. Backing away, I clenched my jaw, to keep my trembling lips from opening and letting out the sobs crawling up my throat. Through hazy vision, I looked at the woman who had taken me in and knew my efforts were in vain.
Sobbing quietly, I ran into Daphne’s arms, afraid to let go. Muttering soothing words and rubbing my back, she looked down at me. “Dear child, do not cry. Good luck, and goodbye, my little witch.” She spoke softly, and I nodded, wiping the tears off my face.
Taking a few steps back, I turned to the gray wall that was slowing liquidizing, shimmering. Knowing what needed to be said, I began the poem.
“Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Of casted iron and shining glass,
Whether I am big or small,
I ask that you let me through, you let me pass;
Your jewels are blood crystallized,
Your frame is of bone,
Look into my sorrowful eyes,
And know I travel alone;
Mirror Mirror on the wall,
With this sad poem, I pay you rent,
For whether or not you let me pass at all,
My friends shall weep and lament.
With courage, I had put aside,
I throw away my greed and pride,
Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Turn around and show me all.”
The frame turned slowly, almost as if laughing at me. I looked over my shoulder quickly and saw encouraging smiles. Sending one back, I took a deep breath and stepped through the opening.
Meanwhile at 12 Grimmauld Place, The Wizarding World.
Things at Grimmauld Place were well, and an air of tiredness filled the house.
Harry and Ron sat on the living room floor, playing wizards chess. Hermione was over by the bookshelves with Remus, and Ginny, Fred, and George were talking about the upcoming school year in the corner, by the fireplace. Molly, Sirius, Severus, and Mad-Eye were in the kitchen, continuing their discussion of plans.
They were taking a break from cleaning, which they had been doing all day. Molly was getting into an argument with Sirius about Harry’s well-being, thinking about how if Anya were here, none of this would be happening.
Storming out of the kitchen, with her face almost as red as her unkempt hair, she stomped over to Harry’s and Ron’s chess set.
Both of the boys looked up at Mrs. Weasley, fearing for their lives. “Yes...Mum?” Ron squeaked, absolutely terrified. “Go over to the bookshelf and clean the urn, Ron. You know you were meant to.” She spoke sharply, before turning to Harry, who, too, was afraid. “Harry, dearie, why don’t you get into the kitchen to eat something, you should really put some meat on those bones.”
With a quick nod, the green-eyed boy darted into the kitchen, as the adults laughed at him for his embarrassment and fear.
Ron was also laughing and wasn’t paying attention to his task. So, it was no surprise when he dropped the urn, emitting a rather loud noise. All the chatter that had been filling the air silenced itself, and numerous heads turned to the red-faced boy.
“Oops…?” He spoke, shrugging his shoulders. A frustrated shout came from beside him, and he turned to see an exasperated Hermione. “Honestly!” She cried, throwing her hands in the air. “You can’t let this bunch do anything on their own!”
None paid too much attention to the girl, however, because the fallen Urn was emitting a light unfamiliar to them. Slowly, like liquid fire, a blue substance leaked out of the urn, traveling down the steps and onto the living room floor.
The adults and teens had their wands pulled, glaring in fear. (And in Remus’, Severus’ and Hermione’s case, curiosity)
Alert and afraid, they watched prepared for the goo to rise and conform into something far more sinister ...
But all they saw was a girl.
Alert, I searched my surroundings for any threats. This would not end up like when I appeared in Arda , no it would not. My bow was in my hand, a red arrow already strung pointing at the nearest “threat”.
There seemed to be eleven rather large threats, in the forms of somewhat familiar faces, though I couldn’t pinpoint exactly where I had seen them before...taking a shaky breath, I loosened my hold a fraction but kept it pointed and looked the man closest to me in the eye.
“I would appreciate it if you discharge your weapon. I am not a threat, at the moment.” I spoke calmly, despite how tense I truly was.
Ignoring my request, the shaggy-haired fellow spoke, his brown eyes darting from my hands back to my face.
“I would appreciate if you told us WHO THE HELL YOU ARE,” he barked, his familiar features twisting with anger, “and HOW you got HERE.”
My racing pulse throbbed in my throat, and my eyes burned. I refused to blink though, for I knew that I was clearly at a disadvantage. A long and low sigh of defeat escaped my lips, before I slowly bent down and set my bow upon the wooden floor, showing I was not a threat.
I, (gently of course, as I loved it dearly) kicked my bow aside, and watched as one of the many people in the room retrieved it, with my hands empty and in the air.
“My name is Anastasia Potter.” The confession tumbled out of my lips, and I found myself cursing internally at my situation and willingness to accept defeat.
The man in front of me recoiled at the name as if it had burned him, and I knew then that what I said next could mean life or death.
Clearing my throat, I repeated myself.
“My name is Anastasia Potter and I am here because one of you set me free.”
Unsure of how to take the silence that followed my statement, I observed my opponent.
His black hair hung low around his shoulders, and is pinstripe suit suggested wealth. Despite his attire, I couldn’t help but notice the sunken in cheeks and haunted eyes, both of which only accentuating the male’s high cheekbones. Just give him a leather jacket and a pack of cigarettes and he could be-
A small gasp of breath escaped my lips, as my mouth slackened and my eyes widened.
Now that I recognized my friend, I threw all caution to the wind.
There was no way I would win in a fight, he had always been the best dueller of the group. My posture slackened, and my legs pushed me towards him on their own accord. Not that I noticed, everything was numb and all I could hear was a gentle ringing.
Giving in to my desperation, I ran into the arms, holding him as he had done so many times for me. A grunt left his lips on the impact, and he looked about ready to murder someone, and probably wouldn’t if I hadn’t spoken up.
“You absolute wanker I told you that I wanted you to play Queen at my funeral!” I cried, sobbing as I clung to the frame of my old friend. Realization seemed to strike him in the face like an angry Lily as he sunk to the floor, and grasped at me, most likely to confirm I was real.
I soon felt another pair of arms wrap around the two of us, but didn’t acknowledge it much. I was home again.
We were too distracted with our emotional reunion to notice Molly ushering the confused, (and adorable), children into the kitchen, and Severus’ shaky hand reaching for me.
It was a good twenty minutes later before we separated, laughing at our chick flick moment. Sobs sounded from behind me, and I quickly looked to find the source. My posture once again crumpled as I recognized even more of my friends, and I quickly hurried over.
“Anastasia, we thought y-you were g-gone.” Severus cried, anguish in his words. I smiled a watery smile, my eyesight poor due to the tears that clouded my vision. My head aches at all the crying, but I ignored it as I took him in my arms as best as I could (I was rather short) I took it upon myself to console him, as Phoebe had calmed me hours ago.
Once all the witches and wizards in the room had collected themselves, I turned to Molly, who wore a shaky smile, not that I could see as her hands were over her mouth.
“Please tell me you married Arthur, Mols.” I teased, unsure of how to continue. She let out a half sob, half laugh at the familiar nickname, and nodded, ushering me into her arms. “Yes dearie, just as you had predicted.”
Ha, Sev owes me 2 sickles.
Taking our time in each other’s company, we slowly made out way to the, as we soon discovered, chaotic kitchen. Upon walking in, we saw four red-headed children and two other teens were arguing, using dramatic hand gestures and all. Even with the show, their arguments lacked any heat, and it seemed as if they were just trying to understand the stressful and confusing situation. Alistar was truly trying his best to get them to calm down, but his efforts were in vain.
Chapter 8: Chapter 7
My eyes reluctantly met my nephews, their green a painful reminder of what I had lost. I wrung my hands and my stomach churned, because I knew, from looking at him, that he hadn’t the faintest idea of who I was. I was hurt, yes, but not angry.
After I had disappeared, the Wizarding World mourned the loss of yet another witch to the war, but the Earth kept spinning nonetheless. Compared to how many we had lost total, I was insignificant.
Time went on and everyone, even those close to me, began to move on. That fact made me happy, of course, as their happiness was all I wished for in the Urn, a place where my own was impossible. Yes, the loss of me hurt them deeply, and still hurts to this day, even with me here, but they had healed for the most part and the thought of that sent pride flooding through me.
So, was I angry that no one had explained who I was to Harry? No. It probably hurt them too much to do so. This didn’t mean that the small part of me wanted to argue with whoever had decided he shouldn’t be told, but we must pick our battles. And this was not the hill I wanted to die on.
“So, this is Harry, right?” I breathed, trying to keep the pain I felt out of my voice. Judging by my old friend’s winces, my efforts were in vain.
“Harry, Harry Potter, ” My nephew answered, emphasizing the ‘Potter.’ It was clear he was confused and stressed and hurt, and I had never wanted to disappear more than at that moment.
My eyes burned with unshed tears as I drew in a few deep breaths, attempting to control my temper. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Screw ‘picking your battles’ this was my only living relative and he didn’t know who I was.
Face slacking into a cold expression, I turned to my old friends. “Do you want to tell him or should I?” I asked, my voice wavering and breaking towards the end. It wavered and broke toward the end, and I couldn’t decide whether it was due to the grief and stress I felt, or the fury.
My old friend's cheeks burned with shame, all of them refusing to meet my eyes.
Bitterly nodding at their antics, I swallowed and pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. Dear Thor . Shaking my head, I collected myself and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I’ll have to rebraid that later. I turned to face my nephew and his friends, their confusion seemed to grow as they watched their role models fidget in shame.
“Hello,” I spoke, and while their eyes widened at my bitter tone, they seemed to know it was not directed at them.
“I am Anastasia Potter , daughter of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, older twin sister of James Potter,” I finished on a sweeter note, not being able to speak my brother's name in such a spiteful tone of voice. I also calmed down after realized that these kids didn’t need my anger, they had done nothing to deserve it. That didn’t mean my blood wasn’t boiling though.
My hands rested on my hips as I gained confidence. Turning to my nephew, I spoke gently. “Harry, this means that I’m your-“
“Aunt, Harry...she’s your Aunt,” finished Sirius, cutting me off. I turned and sent him a withering glare, and he winced, realizing his mistake.
“Yes, your godfather is correct ,” I spoke almost venomously, narrowing my eyes at the guilty party. My dissipating anger was met with a sheepish shrug and a shy smile.
“A-Aunt?!” I heard behind me.
His confused cry tugged at my heartstrings, and the stress, disbelief, and uncertainty that showed itself in his stance filled my heart with sympathy.
This boy had been through so much. So much. Losing his parents, living with an abusive family, and having unreasonably high expectations and fame thrust upon him as a child.
For Arda’s sake, he had to lead a war and was now finding out he wasn’t as alone as he had been led to believe, that he had essentially been lied to for a large portion of his life.
My nephew, the confusion and frustration having melted into one indistinguishable emotion, sent a flurry of questions at me, before calming down enough to actually speak.
“You’re my Aunt?!” Harry cried, voice breaking. His hands grabbed at his forever unruly black mass of hair, pulling at it as his face twisted into one of a confused child’s.
“H-How? How are you alive, and my age!” He questioned, nearly breaking down right then and there.
Letting out a sorrowful sigh, I turned back and made eye contact with Sirius, who understood my unvoiced question and nodded, leaving the room. We had always been good at communicating non verbally.
“I believe it would be wise to alert the rest of the Order, along with the Headmaster of my presence, so I will only have to explain things once. While doing so, might someone grab the Urn for me, please?” I explained for the other adults who could not understand me as Sirius had.
Turning back to my nephew, I slowly approached him and his friends, who had begun escorting him out of the room. I made eye contact with the two of them and they nodded, letting me take Harry’s arm and guide him to his room upstairs.
As soon as I shut the door sobs began wracking the poor boy’s body, and he shook like a leaf. I found myself thankful for the soundproof wards Sirius had placed on every room.
I comforted the boy and explained to him the whole situation, and he slowly warmed up to me. After embracing for a good ten minutes, I wiped both our tears and we made our way to the dining area downstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting at the familiar long table, with several red-heads that looked to be around my nephew’s age. “Would you happen to be Molly’s children?” I questioned, resting my head on the tips of my fingers. This position had become familiar and comforting to me after spending so much time with a certain floppy-haired deducting friend of mine.
They turned to me and began to answer, smiles on their faces.
“Yes Ma’am,” One answered, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a mischievous smirk. He reminded me of the Marauders, even if just a little bit.
“I’m Gred and…”
“I’m Feorge. We’re,-”
“-THE WEASLEY TWINS” They finished, in perfect synchronization. It was actually a bit alarming, but brought a smile to my face, familiar as I remember James and I doing the same all those years ago.
“Oh?” I spoke, somewhat teasingly, but pertaining my elegance. I raised an eyebrow at their childish yet captivating antics.
“Uhhh…” Fred began speaking, “So,” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“Oh,” I spoke, realizing they were waiting to hear my name, “so sorry Fred, my name is Anastasia, you must’ve not heard me earlier,” I said, and unspoken apology clear in the words.
“Actually I’m-” he began, I suppose because he was so used to having to correct people because they confused him and his brother. Realization and astonishment twisted the features of his face, “-wait I am Fred! How did you know?!” the redhead asked bewildered.
I waved my hand in dismissal, after years of being around Gideon and Fabian, you end to pick up a few tips along the way. I became skilful in the art of spotting the differences between twins, not to mention I myself was one as well. Even if James and I weren’t identical. Turning to the two boys, an interesting thought invaded my brain, making me curious.
“Molly?” I called out
“Yes, Anya?” She asked coming into the room.
I walk up to her and asked, “Exactly how many kids do you have?”
“8, I think, no 7!” Molly muttered counting off her fingers.
“7!? Mol-” I take a breath, “Molly, what in the name of -? I mean I know you wanted a big family but jeesh , How on earth do you keep up with them all?” I asked, giggling happily. Oh, how I missed this.
“Honestly,” She leaned in, “I have no clue” We burst out laughing, just like we used too… Merlin, has it really been that long?
“Umm, Hello? Mum?” A voice called out.
“Oh, sorry dear! Anya, this is my youngest daughter Ginny,” she gestured to the dainty girl, “and this,” she said pointing to a boy near Harry, “is Ron!”
“Hello,” spoke Ron, uncertain. Ginny seemed to be more like her mother as a teenager. Shy around new people but full of spirit.
“Molly? They’re here!” A voice called out from the living room, cutting me off.
“Oh, come along children! Anya, you too!” Molly led us back to the living room to meet the rest of the Order.