You wake up.
You feel disgusting and the scent of disinfectant means you’re in a hospital. This is not a surprise. You were hit by a car and (according to what you’ve read) that is the usual way of things. You try to say, “Hello” and it comes out as unintelligible babble. You pry your eyes open and see a ginormous face in front of you. You are a baby.
This is a surprise.
So you’ve been reincarnated. You guess Hinduism had the right idea. Everyone you know thinks you’re dead. You’ll probably never see your friends and family again. They may be dead. Who knows how long has passed? You still feel disgusting. You are a baby, so your brain interprets this influx of feeling as a reason to burst into loud wailing tears.
“A healthy baby girl Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” the woman (doctor?) holding you says. She hands you to a man who stares at you with tears in his eyes. “Hey there sweetie,” he says, “I’m your dad.” The first thing you notice is that his eyes are very blue. The second thing you notice is that his hair is a very messy dark brown. You stop crying. Partly because you’re really 16 dammit and partly because your rational mind is slowly coming back online. Did the doctor say Potter?
A woman cries out and you are carefully handed back to the doctor as your new father runs to her bedside. He babbles, “You’re doing so well Lily-flower” and “Not much longer now” and “Twins! Lily can you believe it” as she bites out curses and “Never again” vows. The doctor pulls out a magic wand and soon you feel much less disgusting.
So you were reincarnated. You were reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter. You were reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter as a child of James and Lily Evans Potter and are (presumably) the twin sister of The-Boy-Who-Will-Live-to-Have-His-Name-Hyphenated. On one hand, you love Harry Potter! You’ve read all the books and you’re probably a witch! This is so exciting! On the other hand, you’re a Potter. You’ll either die or have horrible luck and live with the Dursleys for the first 11 years of your life. You decide to hold your judgment.
Soon enough you are deposited into your new mother's arms beside your twin brother. Soon enough you are named Ivy (“It’s tradition James”) and your brother is named Harry (of course). You’ll later learn that Ivy means fidelity. You find it fitting.
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The first year of your life is a blur of wonder and frustration. Your family is amazing and you’ve always wanted a twin. Your every need is catered to and Sirius and Remus are just as amazing honorary uncles as you’d always thought they’d be. You try your hand at accidental magic. It’s all about feelings right? You are extraordinarily excited when you are able to “want” a toy into coming over to you for the first time. You scream whenever Peter comes near you and don’t look Dumbledore in the eye. When you and Harry take your first steps you start to worry. Wasn’t Harry one when Voldemort came?
Harry Potter, your twin. You always wondered if being a twin gave you a special connection in the magical world. Fred and George just seemed much to together to not be connected in some way. It does. He pushes Hello/sister/full/content to you and you echo back at him. You find yourself feeling closer to Harry than you did to your siblings in your old life. Sometimes you feel like you’re just extensions of each other (although you are, of course, more knowledgeable). You do things together; be it walking, talking, or “accidental magic.” He distrusts Peter with you as well. It’s… nice to have an unconditional ally.
You knew he would, but something in you didn’t really believe it. It’s only when you see your mother, eyes unblinking, on the floor of your nursery and your brother, standing, staring down a yew wand that it really hits you that this is real. “Avada Kedavra,” he intones and you grab Harry’s hand. You hope you and Harry survive and push that hope down the channel between you. You hope your mother put something up (for that has been a popular theory where you came from). You feel your magic, together, twist and react and then… darkness. You awake with Harry to a woman you know must be Petunia Evans screaming. You awake to dead parents and a lightning bolt on Harry’s head. You awake thinking you know despair.
You don’t… yet.
They put you in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry sends confusion/mama/papa/where/why/? to you and you send back love/gone/dead/sad/shh because you don’t want to learn how the Dursleys will react to crying in the night. One day Harry reaches for a ball and it floats over to him. Then there is yelling and less food and chores you are much too young to do.
Accidental magic is what damns and saves you. You are still older, mentally, than Harry (though the memories of your old life have blurred except for memories of Harry Potter books and fanfics and which is which this is IMPORTANT?) so you are better at tricks and plans but you teach him what little you know. You use your magic, although you make him call it “wanting” because that works well enough and is less likely to send the Dursleys into a rage, and you slowly (too slowly) learn how to lock and unlock your cupboard from inside. Then you learn how to make light and stay quiet and pull down extremely healthy food that won't be missed.
Then there is school and “Freaks” and the hunts where you are the prey. There is school where you CANNOT DO BETTER THAN DUDLEY and teachers who look away from too large clothing and bitter smiles. There are whispers in the dark as you talk about making sure you understand school and of maybe running away and the future. There is the night when you are four years old you tell him you think you’ve been reborn in a world that was fictional. Then there are whispers of Hogwarts and friends and enemies who are really allies and a smiling old man who you’re not sure is really a friend. There are stories of mother and father and a godfather unfairly imprisoned. There is even what little you know about the murderer who set you on this path in life. Harry smiles and there are no more secrets and you become even closer than before.
The late night planning becomes more sound then. Plans of hope and escape. Plans of “maybe there is a trunk we could live in” and “do wizards even have barristers?” and “we have to see if we can get a bank statement from the goblins, I read it in a fanfic once.”
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Finally, there is Hagrid and Hogwarts and “our godfather never had a court case Ms. Bones.” There is Hufflepuff because Harry has always wanted to be “just Harry” and you would follow him into hell itself now (the only reason you look at all different is because you’re a girl and your new life has overwritten your old in technicolour so it's always been this way and you’ve never felt this real).
There is the stone and quidditch and learning without having to dumb yourselves down. There is making actual friends with house outcasts (“Hello Hermione” “How do you know my name?”) and schoolyard spats and “should we tell someone about Quirrell?” You catch Peter and give him to Professor McGonagall. You lie about hearing strange voices from under Quirrell’s turban to Ms. Bones and Professor Sprout. You stay as quiet as possible in Professor Snape’s class.
Voldemort-who-is-possessing-Quirrell gets taken away by the Unspeakables. Sirius-who-is-innocent takes you and Harry in. You charm Rita Skeeter with your humility and bravery. Peter goes to Azkaban. You hope that this will be it. There’s still the horcruxes, but with the main wraith trapped that can wait for later. You’ll make this it.