Hello all! I'm on a Harry Potter binge, so I figured I may as well do some writing for it :D

Well...here we go. xD

Read and review, if you'd like.

The last thing I remember before I blacked out was an unspeakable amount of pain. Describing it as being stabbed or shot with a gun would be an understatement—it hurt so badly I couldn't even cry. I also remember being held by somebody. I couldn't even remember who it was, just that it felt safe.

I could feel myself being placed onto a bed of some sorts. I didn't even remember being carried in. Hospital wing, I figured to myself. I could hear voices, some of which were very distinguishable, others, not so much. Many of them rolled together, but whoever they were, they were very kind.

"Is she going to be alright?"

"Of course she is. She's probably just passed out from the curse."

What curse?

"Idunno…she looks pretty pale."

"Honestly, Ronald. She's going to be fine. Everything about her is normal. Even the color of her skin." I could spot that voice from a mile away—Hermione.

I wanted to speak up and let them know I was going to be alright. When I couldn't do that, I tried to open my eyes and give a smile. I couldn't do that either. Wiggling my fingers? No. Flexing my arms? No, not that. I tried moving various parts of my body over and over again. I wanted to give up so badly, but I knew that that would be a bad idea.

"Students, out of the way!" Madame Pomfrey. "No visitors at the moment, please. Especially after…what just happened. She needs her rest. You can visit her tomorrow, even."

I could hear the lot of them leaving the wing, muttering things that I couldn't take real notice of. My mouth was being forced open, and a potion was being poured down my throat. It tasted absolutely horrible. As quickly as I thought I was perfectly awake, I was back asleep.

I woke up not a second later, but not to the surroundings I expected. I was in my Hogwart's uniform, standing amongst the people of Diagon Alley. People stared right through me. How rude of them. It wasn't until a couple minutes after wandering that I realized just how different this version of Diagon Alley was—it held a slightly different variation of color, almost as if I were looking into a pensieve. When people nudged into me, they went right through me (it was almost as if I were a ghost. Or was I a ghost?)

No, I couldn't be a ghost, especially not since I saw a little ginger prancing next to me. When she caught sight of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, she broke out into a run. I had thought nothing of it (as she must have been going to Hogwart's next year), until I realized that it was not some excited soon to be first year, but instead myself before the first year of school. A second didn't even pass before I made the decision to follow her…or rather, me.

"Mum! Dad! C'mon, the shop is this way!" I ran to the robe shop. "Come on!" I entered the shop with a grin on my face.

"Hello there," a pleasant woman smiled. "I take it that you are a first year?"

I nodded my head furiously. "Yes, ma'am." My parents entered the shop afterwards.

Madam Malkin smiled. "Come, dear, let's go fit you. If you'd just stand right over there, I'll prepare some cloth and pins."

I stood over to where she pointed as my parents sat down on a bench nearby, with a sack full of wizarding money (it was so different! Pounds didn't even exist here—Galleons and sickles and knuts were what they were called). She began taking measurements and fitting me with a robe that looked similar to my size. I was the only person in the shop at the moment, until a blonde boy walked in.

My breath hitched. Was that Draco?

"Hogwarts, as well?" A boy my age stood onto a stool next to me.

"Yes," I smiled. "I'm Emma Hughes." I hoped to at least make one other friend before being whisked away to the magical school I'd read so much about.

"Pleasure. I'm Draco Malfoy." He seemed to hold himself to high esteem. "What house do you expect to be sorted into?"

"Oh…" I stopped to think for a moment. I had four choices, didn't I? Neither of my parents had even gone to the school, much less know anything about the houses. Before making myself look even more awkward than I should, I replied "No, I don't really expect any specific house."

"Ah." Draco didn't seem impressed. "I'm going to be in Slytherin, of course. Both my parents have been in that house. Are you going to try out for Quidditch in your second year? I think it's an absolute nuisance that they don't let first years try out."

"I don't think I'd be very good at Quidditch," I said. And for good reason too: I hardly knew what it was. Some wizarding sport—I heard other kids glorifying a broomstick a few shops down. It seemed silly to me at first, until I realized that it did something more than sweep floors. "I'm not very good at sports, really."

"Hmm." Once again, he didn't seem very impressed. "I find it rather interesting, you know. How the other kind can still get in. Really, purebloods should be the only ones let into Hogwarts—to think some of the others haven't even heard of Hogwarts before the letter arrived. It's sad really. They don't truly deserve to master their magic when they don't even have parents who have magic. It's a shame, actually."

I glanced over at my parents as they gave him a disapproving look. I peered over to what I presumed to be his parents, and they looked slightly satisfactory.

I really should have just ignored him, I mused with a curt smile. I sat down on the bench next to my parents. What a prat. Things would have been so much easier without him. But then again, they also would have been a lot less exciting.

"Well, here you are dear!" Madam Malkin handed me a box full of robes to take with me to Hogwarts (even though I began to feel like I didn't deserve to go thanks to that blonde boy). "That will be ten sickles."

I rifled through my bag of wizard money and thought a little bit. Of course, I thought. I pulled out ten of the silver coins. "Thank you!"

"No, thank you," was her reply. If the rest of the storekeepers were going to be as nice as she was, I didn't think I'd have a problem.

I gave a quick wave to Draco. "Bye," I told him, even though his words didn't necessarily make me feel the most confident in myself. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, yes?" I asked him. Regardless of the git he had been, it was just an opinion. Opinions could be changed, if you tried hard enough.

"Of course. Goodbye Emma," he muttered as Madam Malkin began to work on his robes. As I left the shop with my parents, I could have sworn I heard him curse at the lady for sticking him with a pin.

I wanted to stay and watch this younger version of Draco, to relax on the bench and not move. After I thought about it, I figured that I'd be seeing Draco again fairly soon, and that if I lost myself in the crowd, I wouldn't know how to be my conscious self again. I stood up and started to leave the building. I gave one last look to him and his parents. They had nearly frozen themselves in time. I couldn't recall anything that happened in the robe shop after I had left it that day. Maybe I was supposed to follow myself—I had no recollection of what happened elsewhere. Was there even a point in all of this? Reliving my life? Was there some sort of lesson to be learned? I thought my life had been a pretty good one, considering I'd never done anything wrong. There was nothing to repent for.

I left the building as I felt Madam Pomfrey put a blanket over my body.

So how do you think it was? Hopefully not all too confusing?

Maybe just a little? Let me know! I'd love to know your thoughts on it.