As some of you may have noticed, this chapter is an edited repost.

Dark themes ahead, abuse and suicide. Sorry for being an edge lord writer, but it is what it is.

I own nothing! Enjoy!

Chapter One

Fawn's fate had been sealed by the sound of a shattering vase. Her freakishness had been acting out lately, she hadn't done it on purpose. Still, Uncle Vernon had warned her that there would be dire consequences if she did anything abnormal while his boss and wife were visiting. Levitating and dropping a vase in the middle of the room was not something he would overlook. Once Vernon's boss had guided his distressed wife out of the Dursley's home, Uncle Vernon had rounded on her. His breath reeked of scotch when he yelled at her, and his skin had become a blotchy mess of red and puce while he worked himself into a larger fit. No amount of Aunt Petunia's simpering or placating was enough to calm his rage. Fawn opened her mouth to apologize in a bid to calm him down, but the words never made it passed her lips. Uncle Vernon's fist collided with her head, and her body crumpled to the ground. Only, Fawn didn't fall with it, which struck her as a quite odd.

"Vernon, what have you done?" she gasped. Fawn was mildly touched to hear the concern in her aunt's voice. "Is she breathing?" she asked, but Vernon didn't make a move to check. He had suddenly gone pale and still, oddly mirroring Fawn's own body. Fawn thought it was a strange question, until it occurred to her that she hadn't taken a breath since her body hit the floor. In fact, it didn't feel like she needed to breath at all. She didn't feel anything really.

"Aunt Petunia?" she called, trying to get her attention, but the woman paid her no mind.

"Oh, god. Vernon, she isn't breathing." Petunia hissed. "What the hell are we going to tell the police? What are we going to tell the neighbors." She demanded. Ah, of course that was Aunt Petunia's real concern. Shouldn't they be calling for an ambulance by now? Fawn was pretty sure that not breathing was considered an emergency.

So… was this it? Was she dead? Fawn looked around her, searching for some kind of a sign. She didn't see any white lights or grim reapers, but there was something there that she hadn't been able to see before. On the floor next to her, curled in the fetal position, was the ugliest baby she had ever seen. Fawn recoiled at the very sight of it. The word grotesque, one she had learned recently, came to mind. It looked long limbed and malnourished, like dark leathery skin was pulled tight over bones that had grown too long for such a tiny body. It was staring at her own body with a look of abject horror on its sunken face, but maybe that was just how it normally looked. Fawn couldn't begin to guess.

"We aren't going to tell the police." Vernon eventually answered once he seemed to recover from his initial shock. Fawn turned her attention back to her relatives, or should she say her killers? Petunia stared up at him with wide questioning eyes.

"Then what are we going to do?" she asked, voice trembling. A grim look passed over Vernon's face.

"You're going to stay here with Dudley, I'm going to take care of the body. We call the police in the morning, tell them she ran away in the night." Said Vernon. Aunt Petunia held a hand to her chest as she started to hyperventilate.

"What if they come here to look for clues? She doesn't even have a bedroom, Vernon." She managed between gasps. Fawn passively listened them discuss what to do with her body. It was odd, she thought, that she didn't feel sad or angry. She should be sad, or angry, or at least scared. Right? Fawn looked back at the baby creature, for lack of better word, on the floor. She flinched when she realized it was looking back at her, its eyes were blood red. What in the world was this thing?

"So," she tried addressing the creature, "what now?" she asked. The creature didn't answer her though. It just kept looking at her with its creepy eyes. Made sense, thought Fawn, babies couldn't talk. What was she supposed to do now, she wondered? Surely, she would not have to stick around here for eternity. She didn't particularly care for the Dursleys. She considered her lifeless body for a moment, maybe she should try to get back in it? Fawn shrugged her shoulders. It couldn't hurt to try, its not like she could become more dead. How to do it though? She could try laying down on it, see if she fell in? It seemed like a good first step.

She kneeled beside her body and reached out to her hand to touch it, wondering if she would be able to feel it, but a strangled gasp from behind her made her pause. She turned around to see the baby creature reaching its arms out towards her, as if asking to be picked up. Fawn's initial reaction was disgust, but it was soon tempered by pity. The frail thing was ugly, defenseless, and all alone. A freak, just like her. Neither of them had asked to be born this way. Fawn reached out and gathered the pitiful thing in her arms.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you." She promised. She kept one arm wrapped around the baby and reached out to her own body with the other one. The result was instantaneous. It felt like she was like being sucked through a straw, and when she was spit out the other side she had a splitting headache and was gasping for breath, the baby no where to be seen. Aunt Petunia screamed, and Uncle Vernon collapsed into the couch. A loud crack resounded through the house as the frame snapped under his weight.

Oh, there we go. All of the emotions that Fawn had been devoid of came rushing back to her. Fear and rage writhed in her gut like an angry snake. Tears and snot streamed down her face as she choked and sobbed. These monsters, how could they? What had she ever done to deserve this? Fawn turned accusing eyes on her uncle.

"You killed me." She gasped. "You hit me, and you killed me. You're a murderer, an animal!" she yelled. Her voice came out raspy and uneven. Uncle Vernon stood up from the broken couch and Fawn flinched away, but never took her eyes off his face. "You're a monster." She whispered, wanting to scream but her voice was strangled by fear. Uncle Vernon didn't come closer or answer her in any way. He just made his way quietly to the front door and left the house. "You're a monster!" she screamed at his back while the door shut behind him.

Fawn and Aunt Petunia were left sitting on the living room floor, Fawn was openly sobbing and screaming at her uncle who was no longer there. Eventually the amount of noise Fawn was making spurred Petunia into action. Even Dudley had made his way cautiously into the living room so see what was going on.

"He killed me! He killed me! You were going to let him get rid of my body!" Fawn screamed at her aunt, who was trying to drag her to her feet.

"Nonsense," Petunia hissed, "you just passed out. You were dreaming." She defended, but it sounded weak to Fawn's ears.

"You're all monsters, all of you! What did I ever do to you? Murderer!" she screamed.

"Mummy, what's going on? Where is dad?" asked Dudley, peeking from the doorway.

"Oh, nothing, Diddydums. Your cousin is just throwing a fit. Daddy will be back in a moment, go play in your room sweetie." She simpered. All the while, Fawn raged and tried to pull herself out of her aunt's grasp. Her aunt didn't look like a strong woman, but her hand fit all the way around Fawn's arm and she couldn't get away.

"Let me go!" she yelled and pulled at the hand holding her captive. Aunt Petunia quickly grabbed her arm with her other hand and pulled her towards the cupboard.

"Enough, quit your screaming. Nothing happened, you're fine." She said. Fawn wasn't having it, she was so sick of being treated like a dog, she didn't want to be obedient anymore. She'd tried her best, and look what happened. Nothing she did was ever going to be good enough! In a last ditch effort to get away, Fawn reached over and bit Petunia's hand. Petunia screeched and wrenched her other hand off of Fawn's arm and smacked her in the head.

"Quit that, you little animal!" she yelled. The slaps to her head were making Fawn feel dizzy. She may have come back to life, but her head was by no means healed. Petunia finally succeeded in opening the cupboard door and threw Fawn into the room. Fawn stumbled to the floor, banging her elbow on the bedframe. Petunia quickly slammed the door shut and Fawn heard the lock click. Fawn surged at the door and tried to force it open.

"Let me out!" she yelled, "Let me out, I want to leave! You'll never have to see me again!" she promised. Fawn raged for another ten minutes before collapsing in her bed and crying herself to sleep. No one came to let her out for the rest of the night, or most of the next day. Not until she knocked on the door and begged to use the washroom. Aunt Petunia unlocked the door and escorted her the whole way. Fawn was the one under house arrest even though her uncle was the real criminal.

She shut the bathroom door and locked it behind her. Let Aunt Petunia see that locked doors were fine by her if it kept the Dursley's away from her. Fawn considered going to the mirror first, but instead rushed to the toilet and quickly sat down, the urge to pee was too strong to ignore. She did take the time to look in the mirror while washing her hands and was dismayed to see the bruising on her face. Aunt Petunia wouldn't let her outside until it cleared up. No way the neighbours wouldn't ask questions if they saw it.

Fawn tentatively touched the bruised skin around her eye, it was puffy and hot but didn't hurt too badly. Uncle Vernon must have clocked her right in the temple. Fawn hoped she wouldn't have to see her uncle again for a very long time. She'd heard him come home late in the night, or perhaps early in the morning, but he hadn't sought her out.

When she left the bathroom, her aunt was still waiting in the hall to escort her back to her cupboard. It wasn't the first time Fawn had been confined for a prolonged time, but that didn't make it any easier to endure. It was cramped in there and smelled faintly damp. She had hardly any toys to entertain her and only one book, but it was meant for children and Fawn had memorized it front to cover. Fawn laid down in her bed and pulled out the stuffed cat she kept hidden under her pillow. She hugged it to her chest and sighed. Mrs. Figg, the crazy cat woman that she was, had gifted it to Fawn years ago. It was the only plushy that Dudley had never managed to rip, no matter how hard he tried. Oh, and he did try. The Dursley's ruined everything they touched, including Fawn.

If there had been any familial affection between herself and the Dursley's, or any chance of it ever existing, it was gone now. Fawn had never feared someone as much as she feared her uncle or resented someone as much as her aunt. Dudley didn't even fall on her radar anymore. He was just an overweight spawn of the devil himself. He didn't even know he was being raised by monsters. Murderers.

God, had she really died yesterday? It had all seemed so real, and the Dursley's had been so shocked when she woke up. Could she really have dreamed it all like Aunt Petunia said? Fawn truly believed in her heart that she had been dead. Uncle Vernon had hit her and broken her neck or rattled her brain, and Fawn hadn't survived the trauma. Yet here she was alive with no way to prove it. Even the baby creature she met had vanished. Fawn felt a little bad about that, she had promised not to leave it alone but now it was nowhere to be found.

Fawn wanted desperately to know that what she had experienced was real. She needed to find a way to prove that she had died yesterday, and then she needed to tell someone what had happened. The Dursleys shouldn't be allowed to get away with murder. Even if she recovered. Truly, she had no idea how or why she had come back to life. She wished there was someone she could ask, but they'd probably lock her up like a crazy person.

Fawn spent hours agonizing over the events of the past day, until a curiosity developed in her. Dark, dangerous, unhealthy, but all consuming and oh so thrilling. What would happen if she tried it again? For the next two days she became obsessed by the thought. She tried to talk herself out of it, she knew there was something wrong with wanting to kill yourself, but she couldn't shake the curiosity. If she could come back to life whenever she wanted to, then she would never have to fear the Dursley's again. She would never have to fear anything again. It would be like an experiment, and if it was a success then she would be like a superhero. If it failed, well, Fawn couldn't say she was losing much anyways.

Alone in the cupboard, Fawn spiraled farther and farther down that rabbit hole until she finally had herself convinced that it was worth the risk. She'd heard once that drowning was the least painful way to die, and the Dursleys had a perfectly good bathtub. On the evening of the third day of her confinement, Fawn knocked on the cupboard door and asked her aunt if she could have a bath.

Fawn filled the tub with warm water while she laid out her bathing supplies. She'd want to have a real bath once she came back from wherever she was going. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bruising had turned a mottled blue and yellow as it healed and her hair was an oily mess, but her eyes looked bright and full of anticipation.

"Fawn Potter, you are absolutely bonkers." She told herself. Fawn started undressing but paused once her pants had been removed. Last time, she'd still been in the clothing she was wearing when she died. She didn't really want to be stuck walking around naked for eternity, especially if that baby was still around. She decided to leave her shirt on, it was an old one of Dudley's and reached her knees anyways. That should be enough. Besides, wet pants were annoying.

Fawn turned off the tap and climbed into the warm water. She grimaced as she lowered herself in and her shirt clung awkwardly to her body. It was strange to be in a tub with clothing on, but considering what she was about to do, it was hardly the strangest thing happening. Fawn took a minute to just lay in the water and steel her nerves. She was scared, but she truly believed this was going to work, and when it did she would never have to be afraid again. When she was ready, she closed her eyes and slipped under the water. Fawn exhaled and all of the air in her lungs quickly reached the surface in a rush of bubbles. When she couldn't stand it any longer, Fawn inhaled, and her forehead exploded in agony as the bathwater flooded her lungs.