A Black Flower



I couldn't say that I always remembered my first life. Nor did all my memories return to me at once. I didn't remember being reborn like all those fanfics where the protagonist died and then the next thing they knew they were in a warm, cramped space where they floated with limited awareness for an indeterminate amount of time before being squeezed out into the frigid air while they wailed or what not. I didn't remember anything like that, fortunately.

I would have to say I started remembering things when I was a few months old. This in itself is highly unusual, since I shouldn't have even developed object permanence yet. The fact that at only a year old, my brain was capable storing twenty-five years of memories and having the cognitive function to match was downright absurd. Yet it did. My hypothesis was that being reborn and my magic allowed my brain to develop at a highly accelerated rate.

However, I was getting off track. By the time I was perhaps a year old, I remembered everything of my first life. Or, well, almost everything. The last thing I could remember was sitting in the front row of my algebra II class waiting for Professor Rozanov to hand back the midterm. I assumed something must have happened after that, but just how much I was uncertain. Perhaps I died shortly afterwards, and it was so traumatic I blocked out the events leading up it. Or perhaps I didn't actually remember everything and actually lived to the ripe old age of one hundred.

Every now and then, I still wondered about my grade on that midterm. It was incredibly vexing, but I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never know.

I was rambling off track again though. It was a bad habit, if that wasn't obvious yet.

The point was, that by the time I was a year old, my mind was functioning at the same level as it did in my twenties, and that was when I really started paying attention to my surroundings.

Instead of being reborn after my death, chronologically speaking, it seemed that I was reborn decades before the year of birth from my first life. I thought it was strange, but I couldn't pretend to understand the hows and whys of reincarnation. I'd always thought that when you died that was it, you're gone. No afterlife, no reincarnation, nothing. The End. Evidently I was mistaken.

I also noticed I was likely in England, judging by the British accents of the adults that surrounded me. It wasn't Canada, but at least it was a country whose language I already spoke. I wasn't sure just what was going on with my brain, and if I lost the childhood ability to pick up new languages... well, supposing I was born in, say, China or Russia, I would have been fucked.

My new name was Pansy. It was the name of a minor antagonist in the Harry Potter series, but I was still pleased with it. If I had to be named for a flower, at least it was my favourite.

I had two sisters. One was three years older than me, and her name was Petunia. The other was my fraternal twin, and I wasn't sure which of us was born first yet, as our parents never said it in front of me just yet. My twin's name was Lily.

For all that I've always prided myself on my intelligence, I didn't realize the implications of that until my new mother walked in on Petunia drawing on the wall. Though, given the absurdity of the situation, I ought to be forgiven for that oversight.


"Petunia Anne Evans!" My new mother screeched when she walked into my bedroom and saw my four year old sister scribbling on the walls with a bright blue crayon. Petunia turned away from her masterpiece on the wall to face our mother and beamed.

"Look, mummy!" She exclaimed in childish delight. "I drawed a sky for Lily and Pansy!"

I was sitting in a playpen a few feet away, watching my sister deface my bedroom wall, waiting for this exact moment. I'd always found it highly amusing when other people got in trouble. Perhaps it was childish of me to enjoy it when a toddler was the one in trouble, but in all honesty, I was taking my entertainment where I could. It was beyond boring when you could barely control your own body. If I didn't relish in moments like these, I'm sure I'd have gone insane.

Sadly, I didn't get to enjoy the scolding, because for the first time in this life I had heard my new last name. Evans. My name was Pansy Evans. My sisters were Lily and Petunia, by my previous estimation it was maybe the sixties or seventies, we lived in England, and out last name was Evans.

It was at that moment that I came to the conclusion that I was very likely reborn into the world of Harry Potter.


After this revelation, I was half excited, half freaked out.

Excited because, come on, I was in the Harry Potter world! This was amazing! Though not as ardent in my love of the series as I had been when I was younger, I still held it dear to my heart. In my youth I had been a total potterhead. I used to watch the movies every few months and periodically reread the books. I kept up with the latest information JKR shared in interviews and online. I even read and wrote Harry Potter fanfiction to my dying day. Though, I wasn't a fan of the Fantastic Beast movies. And the Cursed Child was just a bad fanfic.

So yes, I was excited. But at the same time, how was this even possible? Like, it should literally not be possible. Harry Potter was a story. It was fiction. So what, when you die you're reborn into a fictional universe? That's what the afterlife is? Living out your days in your favourite book? Ridiculous. I couldn't believe that this was typical for a second.

I considered that this may be a dream or hallucination, but quickly dismissed it. While it made sense in an obvious way that something so ridiculous wasn't really happening, it didn't make sense when you considered other things. One that stood out to me was the passage of time. Sure, months could pass in a dream. But if I were dreaming, I hardly think I'd remember the passage of time so clearly, and I doubt I'd be dreaming about spending hours upon hours bored out of my mind in a playpen, mentally reviewing definitions and theorems from my classes, or alternatively going over that damn midterm I never got the results of and trying to figure out how I did.

So yes, after pondering my situation, I concluded that it was not a dream. The notion of it being a hallucination was similarly dismissed.

So, assuming everything was real and actually happening... That was great, in theory. Magic and such being real, that is. Except, if this was the Harry Potter world, then unless I somehow managed to change things, my sister was going to die. The magical section of the country was on the brink of war.

Furthermore, who was to say that I was even a witch? Sure, my twin certainly is, but my other sister is just as certainly not. Lily and I may have been twins, but we were not identical. It was very possible the magical gene had passed me over like it did Petunia.

What's the point of being reborn here if I'm not even a witch? It would be such a disappointment and so unfair. Like, "Oh, Harry Potter is real, by the way, and you're going to have that shoved in your face, but you're still a muggle. Have fun with that!"


I wasn't going to wait around to find out if I was a witch or not. Perhaps being a child again made me impatient, or perhaps I've always been. Regardless, I tried to force magic out of myself for ages. I would sit and stare at objects, trying to make them move until my head started pounding. I gave up on that by the time I was two years old. Aside from that, not much happened in the year since I realized where I was.

Being a baby with the mind of an adult did bring some unique opportunities, though. For example, I got to choose what my "first word" would be. It was quite the story, really. As I said before, I needed to take my entertainment where I could get it, and so, with little else to do I selected my first word and waited for the opportunity to say it.

Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she preferred, was the name of my new mother, though I had difficulty thinking of her as such. She was feeding me apple sauce for breakfast, which was my favourite while my new father Richard fed Lily nearby. I had eaten my fill but still had half a bowl left, so I picked it up and threw it at my father, hitting him hard on the side of the head. I then repeated the word he grunted in a chipper, deceptively innocent manner.

"Fuck!" I giggled, clapping my hands together. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Lizzie set down the spoon she was using to feed me and glared at Richard, who chuckled nervously. The ensuing argument was glorious. Just thinking about it kept me entertained for days.

Wisely, they later told everyone my first was the second word I said to them, which was "no."

By the time I was two and a half, I was speaking better than five year old Petunia, which led to the Evans concluding that I must be a genius. Obviously, this wasn't exactly accurate, but it was still great for my ego.

In regards to magic, since it eventually occurred to me that according to canon, accidental magic happened when emotions were running high. With this revelation, I resumed my attempts to force out some magic, if I had any. My method was pretty simple, I just put myself into situations that I knew would frustrate me. Sadly, it made little difference, and by the time I was four I had given up on trying to force it out. If I had magic, it would manifest sooner or later. If not, well, it's not like there was much I could do about it, is there?


Notes: This is a rewrite of a fic I started back in 2016 and last worked on in 2017. I've recently come back to it because I had some new ideas.

There will be minor changes, but nothing too dramatic, since the plot hasn't really picked up quite yet. I will detail important changes at the end of each chapter.

Pansy is obviously a SI, and she is based on me, but there are differences.

She will eventually be paired with an OC.

Pansy is mentally an adult, so she will not be interested in anyone her own physical age. She'll prefer someone closer to her mental age. This means the OC will be physically older than her. However, he won't be attracted to her until she is physically older, and will be made aware of her true age by that point. If this bothers you, turn back now. I am aware that in normal circumstances, i.e. in real life, relationships with such age gaps are creepy and predatory. However this is fiction and circumstances which are not possible IRL mitigate a lot of the issues that come with such a relationship.

I will move the fic to AO3, and will likely only update new chapters there after a short period of updating one or two new chapters on FFN.

Important changes: Pansy was a bit older when she died. She has progressed further into her math degree. The last thing she remembers is different.