Disclaimer: This is for the entire story - I do not own the world of Harry Potter or any of the works in the series. I have also been inspired by the works of Diana Wynne Jones, J.R.R. Tolkien and Neil Gaiman, and again, own nothing. The only things I can lay claim to are the original characters in this story.
Please note (and this was hard for me to put into the correct words so please let me know if I've worded anything wrong here): I do not agree with J.K. Rowling's stance on many issues both stated both within the novels (the characterisation of Goblins and House Elves to name but two problematic things) and in public life (I think we all know what I mean here). I believe that everyone should be free to live their lives free from prejudice and hate, and I recognise and celebrate all peoples.
Extended summary: Bess has been transported into the world of Harry Potter. Healers say that she's been 'obliviated', but she still remembers her whole previous life, and lots of information from the Harry Potter books. Once she realises she's definitely here to stay and starts to grow attached to the 'characters', she'll begin a journey of love, both romantic and platonic, to try and remember even more information in an effort to change the game and stop the events from 1981 from occurring!
xXx
Falling asleep was, to Elizabeth – or Bess to her friends – one of the hardest things.
Whether her body was exhausted, aching, desperate for sleep or not, her mind would race.
It would quickly create worlds for her to explore, stories to jump into, people to meet. The possibilities were endless as tales began and ended within her own head. When a story overcame her mind, she was a slave to its narrative – unable to concentrate until the conversation had been concluded, or the battle won.
And yet, with her incredible imagination and love of many genres of fiction, there was one story which Bess found herself drawn to above all others – Harry Potter. The possibilities were endless, as the fandom knew, and Bess would regularly find herself in the minds of students passing the Golden Trio, of people close to the Marauders, or she would find herself gallivanting across the castle with the Next Generation.
It was during one of these fantasies - laying in bed in the middle of the day, imagining what she would eat first if she were to find herself in Honeydukes - that it happened.
Bess felt her eyes drift shut, her breath calm, and her mind stop racing as she fell in to a deep and dreamless sleep. A weightlessness came over her body and a fuzziness overtook her thoughts, calming her and making her feel as if she were floating above the clouds.
Though when Bess awoke, she would not be in her twin bed. There would be no lumpy pillow. The ache in her lower spine from bending over books in the university library wouldn't be there anymore. The bags under her eyes would unfortunately be darker. There would be a scar running down her right arm – puckered and dark pink against her light golden brown skin, as if incredibly new. Her throat would be hoarse and burnt. She would have the word 'Mudblood' carved in to her arm.
She would not wake up in her own time – January 2016, but in January 1976 with a slightly different name, no recollection of how she came to be in St Mungos, and memories of a life lived in our world - a non-magical world - that the Healers said she did not live, but that Bess was certain she had.
And somewhat crucially, amongst those memories of her own world would be a strong but flawed recollection of the Harry Potter universe. For example - she would remember Horcruxes and be able to push herself to list their locations during Harry's search for them, and would know how to destroy them, but she would have forgotten what 'Mudblood' meant.
In short – Bess would wake up to find herself just a little bit screwed.
xXx
When she opened her eyes, Bess found herself confronted with a brilliant white ceiling, bright light, and silence.
The first thing to alert her to her change in circumstances was the ceiling above her – it was free from any imperfections – no cracks, no cobwebs, no marks, nothing.
Bess frowned as she tried to find the specific dark splotch in the corner of the room that had been the bane of her existence for the last two weeks – the only remnants of the mould she had had to get rid of in her flat. The mark had annoyed her because her landlord had sent her an email to say that she would have to pay for repainting costs once she'd moved out. She was still angry.
If the absence of the mark confused her, the dull pain in her arm did so even more. Her normal aches and pains were missing, and this was different. It was as if both of her arms had been on fire, and were now smouldering. The pain grew with every second that she focused on it.
Frowning deeply, Bess tried unsuccessfully to move her arms. They felt as though they were lead – keeping her weighed down. Eyes widening, she realised she couldn't move them at all. She began to panic.
Pushing up, Bess arched her back. Realising that she could move, she attempted to get her legs to work. They were sluggish, but after a little while of trying, she was able to move them from side to side.
The pain growing, especially since she'd used her aching muscles, she opened her mouth, ready to shout to her housemate Eloise to come and help her. However, when she tried to shout nothing came out. She tried again, and that was when she felt it – the intense, throbbing, scratching pain in her throat. It felt as though she'd been screaming for hours.
Her voice was so hoarse that she was barely able to manage a whisper even when she attempted to scream and shout with all of her might. This panicked her further.
She tried to look around for signs of where she was, but was confronted with white curtains, pulled all around her bed.
Only one thought went through her mind as she panted from the exertion – where the fuck am I?
Finding herself unable to speak, unable to move her arms, barely able to move anything else, and in pain, was terrifying. Tears sprang to Bess' eyes and she gasped in breaths, feeling her breathing speed up even more, her chest constrict, and her mind race until she could barely think as her head throbbed.
Trying to not have a full blown panic attack... to try and keep some measure of control in this space, Bess began using her breathing techniques to calm down enough to think. Breathe in for four, breathe out for eight, she repeated to herself as she lay, staring at a single spot on the immaculate ceiling. She began to count in her mind not only the counts, but also the number of times she cycled through to keep her focussed and grounded.
As her blood stopped rushing and thumping through her ears, she began to recognise words, sounds, and doors. Her eyes trailed over the mass of white curtains but this time she could see where the curtains started and stopped. Sunlight flowed through a miniscule gap between two of the curtains, and she trained her eyes on that place, hoping that it was the doorway to her little unit.
Two hundred... Breathe in for four, out for eight...
Three-hundred and four... Breathe in for four, out for eight...
Four hundred and eighty-six... Breathe in for four, out for eight...
After around 548 rotations of focussed breathing, Bess relaxed even more when she realised that she was definitely in a hospital of some sort when someone passed by her bay, asking for a burn remedy. Moments later, another voice passed by at a running pace, shouting about Blood-Replenishing potions. It wasn't lost on her that these were foreign terms, but she couldn't do anything about that right now.
Finally, after 900 iterations, or roughly three hours, the curtains opened to reveal a middle aged woman in a long lime-green dress with an odd mark stitched on the chest which looked to Bess as if it were a bone and a stick crossed over each other.
The woman, who was looking over her shoulder when she opened the curtains, said to someone unseen, "I'm just taking vitals, I'll be over in a second, Hols." Bess' eyes widened when she realised that the woman was holding a long stick in her hand. She didn't even want to think of what she'd use that for.
Bess gasped in a breath and tried to speak, her voice once again coming out as a raspy, garbled mess, her eyes wide. The woman turned to look down at Bess, the colour draining from her face until she stared, as white as a sheet, back at Bess. The woman gasped in a breath, and then began to shout.
"Oh. Oh my. You're awake. HOLS! HOLS SHE'S AWAKE!" She moved closer to Bess, her cold hands landing on Bess' arm and hand. Bess continued to stare, unable to muster the energy to move her legs, still unable to move her arms. The woman didn't notice Bess' fear, or if she did, she ignored it, possibly thinking that her hands were comforting on Bess' skin. "How long have you been awake?" she asked insistently. "We didn't think-"
Bess just about managed to whisper, "Help me. Please," before another person came through the gap in the curtains, followed by another, and another.
xXx
By the end of January, Bess had finally come to terms with three simple (and yet rather unbelievable and crazy) things:
First: something very, very bad had happened to her.
Second: she had the distinct impression that she was… well… inside the world of Harry Potter… as mad as that sounded.
Third: she most definitely was not in her own time... though she had yet to get a specific date or year out of any of the Healers, who seemed intent on keeping conversation as light as possible.
Once she'd reached these three realisations and finally begun to accept them as true (for now), she'd found it easier than she'd imagined to cope - she just kept telling herself that this was a very detailed dream, and that she should make the most of it while she could.
And it was a weird dream - having to lie in a bed all day, listening to idle chatter, being visited hourly by Healers for obs - and she knew that she probably would have been panicking more had it not been for the multiple calming draughts given to her at the first sign of an elevated heartbeat.
(Like the time when they'd told her that she was on a children's ward. Bess, a 20 year old woman, had complained, saying that she should be on an adult ward. Her Healers had replied, with sympathetic smiles, that she was a 16, not 20. Now that had been a shock. She'd not been able to control the panic that rose in her, and even her breathing and grounding techniques hadn't stopped her from panicking, so her Healers had poured a rather strong double-strength calming potion into her mouth, and she'd ended up asleep for two days.)
Not willing to risk another 48 hour sleep session, Bess had found herself trying to think through the positives of each situation which confronted her. For example, her age. The positives were that she still had the memories and knowledge of her 20 year old mind.
And then there was another, rather general, positive - magic.
As she'd adjusted to her surroundings, Bess found herself excited by little things, like the moving pictures in the Daily Prophet. Though this particular feeling had been short-lived. For some reason, the Healers refused to let her see copy after copy of the paper, until at last, a Healer had taken pity on her and, realising how bored she was, had told her about the hospital library. Within an hour, Bess had received a library copy of A Standard Book of Spells: Book One.
On the sixth day of her recovery, Bess began to realise that this was the longest, most peculiar dream she'd ever had. And a worrying thought began to move to the forefront of her mind - what if this isn't a dream? To distract herself from the resurgence of intense panic, she challenged herself to try and learn as much as possible while she was still here, hoping that maybe this distraction could help her focus her energies away from the negatives.
And so she quickly began to devour information. Luckily, in her own world, Bess had been studying for a university degree in both English and History, which had her reading over ten books per week.
Now that she had the added motivation of a distraction from her predicament, finding it a fun and relaxing way of disassociating herself from the white walls around her, and having access to core syllabus of magic from the Harry Potter universe (something she had only dreamed of learning), she had taken to memorising spells, and practicing her pronunciation and wand movements using a brush she was thrown by the bemused six year old in the bed next to her.
xXx
Exactly sixteen days since Bess had woken up in this strange world, she found herself sitting on her hospital bed, now reading her way through the O.W.L level books, Intermediate Transfiguration and The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts. She had finished A Standard Book of Spells: Book Four that morning.
"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Coulson?" came the deep booming voice of the ward's Head Healer, a rather tall man with greying, thinning hair, a large smile and a joyful demeanour. The only indication that he had a tough job were the severe frown lines etched into his forehead.
He had taken to calling Bess by her surname first, as he did with all of the other patients on the ward, before then addressing her by her name in this world – Daphne. She still wasn't used to her new moniker. However, as she was still getting the lay of the land, she'd thought it prudent not to rock the boat and try to have her name changed from the offset. They had, she reasoned, got her surname right.
Bess looked up and smiled, placing her hand on the open page of her book to save her space. "I'm feeling a little better... and wondering when I'll be allowed out of this bed... I haven't been able to feel my butt in a while, and honestly, it would be good to stretch my legs beyond the loo!" she said, managing to force out a small giggle. This was met by the Healer's tremendous laugh, which echoed around the large bed-filled room. Bess sighed inwardly. She asked the same question every morning during rounds, and was yet to be given a definitive answer.
"I wager you'll be in bed for just a little longer, m'dear, but we'll get you out of here eventually," he said, moving to sit on the side of her bed, facing her but at a respectful distance. Bess wondered where the other Healers were. Healer Fenrose's morning rounds usually came with the presence of at least three young witches or wizards crowding the end of her bed, staring at her as if she were a zoo animal.
She forced another smile and said, "Sooner rather than later would be good!"
"Yes, well…" the older gentleman began, looking around before leaning in closer. In a quieter voice, he said, "you're going to have some visitors today. We've held them off for as long as we could, but you're much more awake and alert now and your injuries are healing as well as they can be, so…"
Bess' eyes widened and she leant forwards slightly. "Who... who is it?" she asked in an equally quiet voice. She wondered if she might be getting a visit from an Albus Dumbledore soon - she was of Hogwarts age after all... but had thought herself stupid for hoping that he would come. She had realised that although she didn't know the exact date, she knew from some of the clothes that the Childrens' Ward visitors were wearing, that it was probably pre-90s.
Fenrose pursed his lips and thought for a moment. He took a breath and said, "Aurors. Our… How did Jenkins say to put it? Ah yes, our version of the per-leez."
Bess tried not to smile at the mispronunciation. She'd realised a few days previously that the Healers were all trying to describe things to her in terms of the Muggle world, and had therefore quickly deduced that they must have thought that she was either a Half-Blood or Muggle-Born, if she had any magic at all...
"Police? Oh. Of course," Bess replied, her face morphing into a frown.
"Were you expecting someone else?" the older wizard asked, raising an eyebrow.
Bess wanted to say no, but found herself unable to lie to the man. He was, after all, her only real connection to the world outside the hospital, and she had been ashamed to admit it, but the lack of visitors really was alarming her. Did she not have anyone who cared for her in this world? "Well... Yes. I mean... you keep calling me Daphne... so someone must have told you that was my name... I just thought maybe someone from my family might have turned up by now?"
Fenrose grimaced. "Ah. Well, you see, that's what the Aurors are going to talk to you about as well... How you got here, and what you remember."
"But I don't remember anything," Bess replied quickly. "I mean... I do, but I don't remember anything from my life here..."
Fenrose nodded and shifted slightly, betraying his discomfort. "Yes. Well. They need to verify that. I think- I think this conversation is best left for their arrival."
Bess raised and eyebrow and leant forwards still. "But please? Healer Fenrose, please tell me something? Anything?" she pleaded. Her right hand coming to rest on her left forearm, where she began to absentmindedly run her nails forwards and backwards over her bandage.
Fenrose's eyes followed the movement, before he looked away suddenly, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry Daphne, but we were told not to tell you anything for the moment. After the Aurors have been… We'll try and fill in any gaps for you, but for now I'm unable to share any information."
Bess frowned deeply and continued to rub her arm as she looked down at the bandage. "Can I at least see my injuries? Healer Jones keeps covering up the mirrors in the bathrooms and bandaging my left arm while I'm asleep. She's wrapped my right when I'm awake, but keeps saying the left one is quite gnarly."
Fenrose sighed, and shook his head. "Again, I- I really think that's one to confront after you've had a chat to the Aurors. I'm sorry, Daphne, but I really can't tell you anything right now. Please, trust me when I say that I would like to, but it really would be best for you to wait."
"I can't say I'm not upset but…" Bess sat back, emitting a deep sigh, "do you know when they'll be getting here?"
"At some point this afternoon... I've told them when lunch is served, and they'll be coming around to speak to you sometime between then and five."
Bess managed to choke out an, "Okay," and swallowed thickly.
"I know you won't feel like eating anything now, I'm sure you'll have a lot on your mind. But at least have this," Fenrose said quickly, and from a pocket in his bright robes he pulled a rather large bar of chocolate. Breaking off a slab, he handed it to Bess, before snapping some off for himself, "I give chocolate to all of my patients. Well, the special ones anyway!" He winked before popping the small piece in his mouth and pocketing the rest of the bar.
Bess smiled and looked at the piece of chocolate in her hand. She felt a little comforted by its weight, and he was right. Even though she wasn't hungry now, the idea of something sweet was appealing. She raised the sweet treat to her lips, and then the face of Remus Lupin popped into her head. She frowned and dropped her hand back to her lap.
"Do you treat all children, Healer Fenrose?" she asked, curiously.
"Ah no…" he replied, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I have the unfortunate pleasure of treating those of you with the… more difficult injuries. A tough job at times, yes, but one I enjoy..." he said, trailing off, deep in thought.
Bess grimaced as she thought of the little boy who'd come in screaming the previous day. He had what looked like a rather nasty burn on his hand. She looked over to his bed, just five down from her own. When she caught the little boy's eye, they shared a smile. He was doing a lot better today. She turned back to Fenrose and watched him frowned at the floor before he looked up and smiled serenely and added, "Seeing the look on the faces of children and families when they are reunited in good health is my utter joy."
Bess nodded and tried to smile back as she asked, "How old are your patients when they transfer to an adult ward?"
Fenrose's eyes focussed on Bess once more, and he sent her a sincere smile. "Don't worry, you won't be leaving us for a little while longer, but I'm sure that you won't be of age by the time you do."
Bess looked down and began to play with her bedsheet. "When will that be?" she asked shyly.
"You don't remember your birthday?" He asked, frowning. "I thought that was one of the first things the Healers-"
She shook her head quickly. "No, I think I do. I- I think it's October the 23rd. It's just... I can't be sure that it is. No one told me it wasn't, but no one told me that it was either."
Bess looked up to see Fenrose smile as he replied, "Well that's a relief. Yes, that's the date we have as well."
Bess smiled. She was intensely grateful that some things hadn't changed, though there was still the issue of her name... she had been working towards the topic of Daphne for a while. Was this a girl who she'd replaced in this world? Or was inhabiting the body of?
Fenrose looked over his shoulder towards the Healer station, before turning back to Bess. "Well, if there-"
"Healer Fenrose?" she asked quietly, cutting over him.
Fenrose frowned, but nodded all the same. "Yes m'dear?"
"Can- can I tell you something important? Something secret?" She felt silly, but she couldn't think of any other way to ask.
"Yes. Of course," he replied, a serious expression settling onto his face.
"I think... this is going to sound mad, but I think that my name is actually Bess. Well... well... Elizabeth... just... I don't think that my name's Daphne," she whispered, unsure of how the wizard would take this particularly weird confession.
He nodded solemnly, surprising her. "Ah yes, we weren't sure on what you would go with. Your full name was listed on your birth certificate as Miss Daphne Elizabeth Coulson, but the envelope it was kept in just said 'Bess's documents' on it." He tilted his head to the side and refolded his arms. "I could call you that if you'd like? Bess? Or do you have another nickname you'd prefer?"
"That... that might be good?" Bess asked, slightly unsure. "Could we maybe try it out? If that's not too weird?"
"Bess? Yes, of course!" he said with an overexaggerated grin. Bess couldn't help but smile back. "Shall we try it out now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Bess nodded. "How are you this fine day, Bess?"
Bess' eyes widened and she shook her head immediately. She'd been looking forward to being called by her real name, but hearing it being said in that moment was too jarring. Bess had grown comfortable already – her incapacitation had enabled her time to think, to adjust, and to enjoy. But suddenly she felt overcome with nausea and weakness again as the reality of her situation began to sink in again - she had spent sixteen days in this world now, with no end in sight.
Her familiar name had turned from a safety blanket into a harsh reminder that she was now alone. She was far away from her friends and anyone who loved her. Far from anywhere or anyone that made her feel truly safe. And she was trapped inside the hospital until they deemed her fit enough to go outside. And they wouldn't give her an end date.
She shook her head sharply and said, "No, sorry. On second thoughts. Please don't. I'm sorry, I just- I think Daphne would be better for now. Easier to- to- to- I'm sorry, I just-"
Fenrose shook his head and smiled at her kindly, reaching a hand out in front of him in a calming gesture as Bess took in deep breaths. "Of course. Daphne it is."
She nodded and gulped. "I'm sorry. It- It's not the way you said it, really, I just- It's... it's jarring, and-"
"You don't need to explain yourself to me. It's okay. You've been through an emotional and physical trauma worse than I have seen in a decade. You still don't have answers about why you're here, and where here is. You believe that you have been thrust in to a world that is not your own," Fenrose reasoned, "I would be more worried if you were stoic and infallible in the face of all of this. The fact that you look sick at a personal nickname is good. It means that there's a part of your brain which is fighting. I just hope that you still enjoy my company once you find out what happened to you."
Bess, who had found herself comforted beyond words by Fenrose's speech, frowned as he said his last, and looked up sharply. "What do you mean?" She asked, as Fenrose ducked his head and stared intently at his hands.
"Well, for one, I'm a Wizard. And I would understand if you were distrusting of magic once you hear what occurred. And second, I am in charge of your care, so it stands to reason-" Fenrose sighed deeply. "Daphne… Be- Daphne... I did everything I could to try and rectify the damage you suffered. We did everything that we could. But there are still limitations to what we can heal," he sighed again as he finally allowed his hand to come to rest on Bess' right forearm. "The Aurors will explain everything to you, and ask you some questions. But I'm afraid that some of your scars will remain."
Bess smiled sadly at the Healer. "I could never blame you for scars you didn't give me," she whispered, ducking her head, her eyes trained on the top-left corner of the book on her lap.
"Yes, well, there's a reason we haven't let you look in the mirror yet," he said, before he patted her forearm again. After a few moments he stood and stepped away, drawing his hands back to cross his arms. "I am sorry."
"Don't be," she replied quickly, looking up at the Healer.
He nodded. "They're not too bad at all, considering… I just feel awful that I couldn't do more."
"Please don't feel bad for any of this," Bess said, offering him a small smile.
"I really should get back to my rounds. I can only apologise for having to leave like this," he said, sending her an concerned look.
Bess let the corner of her mouth tip upwards for a moment and nodded. Looking at him, she thought of all of the things she wanted to say. She wanted to thank him for saving her life, or for doing everything he could to heal her and her scars. She wanted to apologise for the fact that he had to deal with injuries like hers on a daily basis and feel guilty for not being able to heal kids completely. But she didn't. Instead, she just replied, "Really. I'm fine. Thank you."
He nodded. "I'll return once the Aurors have left to check on you."
"See you later," she replied.
"Miss Coulson," he said finally, nodding to her.
When he began to walk away, her eyes were drawn to the Healer's station, where three young Healers stood, staring at her. They quickly looked away when they saw her catch them. She watched Fenrose re-join the group and usher them to another bed. In that moment she felt relieved that he'd had the forethought and kindness to warn her of the impending Auror visit on his own.
Falling back against her pillows, Bess tried to shake away her thoughts of home, of her own world, which had brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat.
Wanting to distract herself once more, she placed her books onto the bedside table and picked up two new ones - the small notebook given to her by the Healers, which she had taken to writing spells and wand movements in, and a well worn copy of A Standard Book of Spells: Grade 5. Flicking to the first page, she began to read.
xXx
A/N: So... that's the first chapter! I've not been able to get this idea out of my head, and so decided to put fingers to keyboard and write this up! Hope you like it! Any questions, let me know via PM or in the reviews!
Edited: 27/07/2021 to make the descriptions flow better. This story is an amalgamation of HP novels and books, taking bits from each place, since there's so little about the Marauders, and things like Mudblood being carved into Hermione's arm is something that I wanted to include, but I know that's from the films not the books! Don't know if it matters to anyone really, but thought I'd point it out anyway. Then again, it doesn't really matter because this is already changing everything!