Story Reincarnation madness [Harry Potter]

[Irakma]

Chapter 1
Before The Sorcerer's Stone​

It was strange how these things happened. Usually the story would show the person dying, and nothing more, but noooo. I had to be the one who died right when my original life story was at its peak.

It started relatively simple, as all things do. I had been seeing a girl for the past couple of years, exiting high school and entering college. I had just turned 20 the week before, and I had simply decided that I wanted to marry this girl. So I got a ring, I got her father's blessing, and I set up the date to propose. And because it was real life, we ended up postponing the date because she suddenly had the opportunity of a lifetime to become a therapist like she had always wanted. So the date happened two weeks after originally planned, and it went relatively smoothly. I may have slammed my thumb in the car door when I closed it for her, but the rest of the night was smooth sailing.

And thus the dinner went smoothly from then on out. We got alcohol free champagne, (being underaged, of course) and a wonderful meal. I remember that her meal was one of the most expensive items on the list, and I had jokingly said that she would put me into debt. Then we went out for a walk, and I think she knew what was happening when I suggested the walk. We'd never gone for a walk after a meal before. Unfortunately, that's when it all went wrong.

We were crossing a street, discussing our usual favorite topic of 'What new books have come to our attention?' I had been particularly excited to talk about a book called Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro, that I had found at a local bookstore, when it happened. A car came out of nowhere, veering left and right, the driver clearly drunk. So, of course, I did the gentlemanly thing and pushed my girlfriend out of the way, and tried to avoid the car myself. But life, or rather death, had plans of its own.

At the last second, when I thought I would be safe, the car once again veered and hit me full on. The pain blossoming through my chest, arm, and legs was immense. The car not only hit me, but it catapulted me into the air above. I can still remember the moment before I hit the ground and everything went black. I could see my girlfriend's eyes full of fear. And then the blackness took me.

Of course, with how efficient modern technology is, I was kept alive, long enough to wake up in a hospital, my girlfriend sobbing beside me. With rattling breaths (I believe that my lungs were punctured by my ribs), I reached for the ring on the stand next to me they had taken out of my pocket and whispered out, "This... Was... for you... I... love you..." My girlfriend broke into fresh tears, and I could hardly stand to see it. In my addled state (I suspect a concussion), I reached a hand out and tried to put it on her cheek. But my hand was gone. I remember thinking clearly, Well now how am I supposed to put the ring on her finger? and once again slipped into unconsciousness, this time not returning to see her face.

But for some reason, I did return to consciousness. But there was no pain. Nor was there light, or a way to see. All I could sense was that I was somewhere warm and comforting. I truly didn't know what had happened. Hadn't I just been in a hospital? Did I die? Panic had overwhelmed me then, but it quickly vanished. It made no sense to me. Was this the afterlife? It would explain why I couldn't feel anything, but I didn't know truly what was happening. And then things started to return. I could feel myself now. I existed. Maybe I was being reborn? Being alone in there gave me plenty of time to think, but I still slept somehow, even though I could still barely feel anything.

Then my body was able to move. I could immediately sense that I was in a liquid of some kind. And around the same time, I could begin hearing things. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand it, but I could tell that something was happening. So I began to use my new movement to try and explore, though there was nothing to explore. It was small and enclosed. And it stayed that way for even longer.

I eventually figured out what was happening. I mean, if you payed attention, and had several months to think on it, you'd figure it out as well. I had been reborn. Why I had my memories, I don't know, but I did, and I wasn't about to complain. All I had to do was wait to be born and figure out where in the world I was. And thus I played the waiting game. I could slowly feel different parts of my body returning, and all I wanted to do was get out into the world.

And then it happened. I felt the need to leave, but not in the way that my mind had chosen it. No, it was more primal than anything. So, I kicked. Hard. And panicked voices began to circulate, just barely out of reach of my hearing. And but a few hours later, I could feel my freedom. I could hear a frantic woman saying things I couldn't understand just yet, but I felt cold air on the top of my head. And but a moment later, I had been freed from the mother. I could hear properly now, and I strained my ears, trying to pick up on what was happening. And the voices began to speak.

"It's a boy, Mrs. Potter!" Potter?

"My goodness Lily, he's beautiful." Lily?

"Oh dear, the child's covered in blood. One moment. Tergeo." Tergeo?! What was happening?

Soon I was able to open my eyes, and look around the room. I had been reasonably quiet, but then I remembered that babies were supposed to cry upon birth, so to keep up appearances, I began to cry. It wasn't hard thankfully - I had been decent at acting in my previous life, I'd be okay over here as well - and the person who was my mother began to comfort me, saying soothing words. After a moment of crying, I decided there was no purpose in continuing to cry and stopped, opening my screwed up eyes to look at my mother.

Two beautiful green eyes stared down at me, and I saw and heard her say, "Oh, isn't he precious? Hello, Harry." At this, I started. Her last name was Potter? And mine was Harry? This was impossible. And yet, being reborn with my memories seemed to be possible, so I guessed I was living in a story now. So it was final. I was Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived.

And I knew what was going to happen as well. I knew that I would be the cause of the fall of Voldemort. I knew that he would rise again with the help of my blood. I knew that I would have to willingly give up my new life to defeat him. And I knew that I would live, and he would die. Of course, I was going to change as much of it as I could. Try and save Cedric, Sirius, Fred, Lupin, Tonks... All those who died who hadn't decided it already. Try and get some extra jabs in at Umbridge. And maybe try and get with Ginny earlier for story's sake. What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic. But I would have plenty of time later to prepare for the future. For now, I would have to be a baby. So I broke into a smile and began waving my arms, poking at who I knew to be Lily Potter and laughing while I did so.

 

[Irakma]

Chapter two

In Which I get Scarred for Life by an Old Man who is Scared of his Own Name
​

It had been almost a year since I had been born. I had received multiple confirmations that I was most certainly in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, namely in my now parents taking care of me. I had learned quickly how to communicate with them in an efficient way, with hunger being shown through me rubbing my belly and whining, or other gesticulation that seemed to stun and confuse my parents, which made sense.

I was of course more intelligent than a normal baby, due to being reincarnated and all that, but it wasn't an excuse. I still acted less intelligent then I really was, and I had done more thinking about my plans for the future then I had probably ever done in my last life. I had never been one to think too hard, and so I would often be solemn and quiet when left alone, until my parents entered the room, in which I would immediately break into a smile. I did indeed know that they were my family, and that they would die protecting me within the next year, so I would try and cherish their presence while I had it near me. At least they loved and cared for me like my old parents.

So thinking. And planning. I had done a lot of it, and my plan was distinctly this: I would grow up with the Dursleys as Dumbledore planned, and when the first letter arrived, I would give it directly to Vernon and say that I had gotten a letter to a school that I hadn't heard of. I would then let it play out without too much interference, until it ended with Hagrid knocking down the door. From there, I would reveal slightly that I knew what my future entailed, and eventually tell Dumbledore what the truth was about me, without telling him much more about the future so as the story could follow as closely as possible and then I could easily shift it the way I wanted.

But if my last life had been any indication, I would find that fate twisted things to its own ends. Besides, I had decided to act as if I could see the future as long as possible. That meant that I could have leniency in my actions, and if I mentioned something that is going to happen, then I could attribute it to my faint future sight. It was a decent plan, but one thing for sure is that I was going to have to study as hard as I could. I wanted to be miles ahead of where I was supposed to be

So as mentioned, I spent most of my first year planning, until my parents had pulled out a cake and a candle. It was my first birthday. It would be happening any day now. I knew not exactly when it had happened in the books, but I would find out soon enough. So I sat and enjoyed eating the mushed up cake they gave me and laughed in my childish manner, and jokingly tried to feed some to Lily. She laughed with me, and James laughed the loudest, joking and saying, "He really is just like me, isn't he!"

I remember that there was a photograph taken, of me on the broom I had just gotten with my parents in the front. I knew then that there was only days until I was marked by Voldemort and would go to live with the Dursleys, so I began to steel myself mentally for it. And I wouldn't wait long.

It was six days later. I had had a wonderful day with both my mother and father, and was starting to grow a little sleepy. They had set me in my crib, and I lay preparing to fall asleep when I heard a loud bang, followed by James shouting, "Lily, take Harry and run! It's him! Go I'll hold him off -" His voice was cut off, and I was instantly awake. I knew there was nothing I could do, but it still hurt to hear. They had raised me after all. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. And so I sat, and listened to the sounds of them being killed.

Finally, I could see Voldemort approaching. The films didn't do it justice. He was hideous. Two slit-like holes where his nose should have been, murderous red eyes that seemed to hold only hatred and pain in them, and a smooth, mask-like appearance that made him look completely inhuman. It was incredibly disturbing to say the least, and it was the face of a man who would soon die at the magic my mother had wrought.

I began to cry as he looked down at me (it wasn't too difficult, thankfully), and he raised his wand in return. Here it was. The moment of truth. When the story really would begin. If he changed his mind for some reason, I could live normally. If he didn't, then I'd have to be the one to defeat him. And as I thought that, Voldemort's wand flashed green.

Of course, how was I supposed to know that it was going to hurt? But it did, and quite a lot. I almost thought my skull was going to split open from the pain I felt in it. I could vaguely make out a rapidly vanishing form in front of me, whether because it had died or because it had vanished, I couldn't tell. The pain was agonizing. I could feel my body writhing under the pain, and I remember screaming as loud as I could. Eventually though, the pain left, and I drifted into unconsciousness. The next time I would awake, I would be on the doorstep of some quite unfriendly muggles who wished that magic did not exist.