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A Skeptical Slytherins Revolution

In a wizarding world marred by inefficiency and stagnation, the Malfoy family stands as a pillar of archaic tradition and privilege. Enter Draco Malfoy's twin sister, born with memories from a modern world where innovation thrives and progress is embraced. The new greatest genius of the generation, who wishes not just to become the strongest, but drag the entire wizarding community up with her. ********** This is the first thing I'm writing on here or any site for that matter, If it gets dropped out of the blue bully me in the comments and ill probably come back in shame. Hope you all enjoy.

Joebiden_Biden · Book&Literature
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22 Chs

Exploring The Realm Beyond

Darkness surrounded me once more, but this time it was warm. I felt something new coursing through my body, a sensation unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was strange, almost unnaturally comforting. Was this what being dead felt like? If so, maybe my afterlife wouldn't be so bad after all. Yet, one thing puzzled me: why could I feel anything at all? When I traversed that tunnel, everything felt weightless—my movements, my memories, even my soul. Now, there was weight to my actions. And my thoughts... they were clearer, sharper as if my mind had been upgraded to that of a supercomputer. Perhaps this was part of being dead—a universal upgrade to ensure equality in the afterlife, with abilities to relive memories and learn endlessly.

In this realm of unknown dimensions, time seemed both endless and fleeting. I was jolted from my contemplation by a strange presence brushing against me. Another soul? I tried to speak, but no words formed. Instead, a forceful nudge from what felt like a foot hit my side. Anger and confusion surged within me, but I hesitated. Was this soul also trying to communicate? Resigned to my inability to vocalize, I focused on manipulating the strange sensation coursing through me. I experimented, directing it around my body, trying to concentrate it into specific areas with unpredictable results. When compressed, it expanded; when pushed out, it returned with greater force, sometimes seeping in from the surrounding fluid. This ethereal feeling—mana, as I named it—demanded exploration.

Days—or what felt like days—passed without measure. The space around me seemed to contract, forcing me into frequent encounters with my neighbor, whose presence intrigued and irritated me in equal measure. Occasionally, strange noises from outside the fluid reached me, and more mana flowed into my being. As I worked with this newfound energy, shaping and manipulating it, I realized mana was more than a name; it was a fundamental part of this mysterious existence.

One day—or was it night?—I dared to channel mana into my brain, seeking new experiences in this realm of possibilities. The sensation that followed was unlike any before—a surge of pain that rivaled the impact of that car. Darkness enveloped me once more.

When I woke hours later, a sense of renewal washed over me. Experimenting with mana had become a method to pass the timeless hours in this afterlife. Could this be the essence of existence here? Manipulating mana to explore and understand our surroundings? The next "day," I focused on my eyes, then my ears, and each time, residual mana lingered, subtly altering my perception.

Gradually, I became aware of changes within myself—not shrinking, but growing. Was I evolving within some celestial womb, preparing for a new phase of my afterlife? It sounded improbable yet strangely plausible in this enigmatic realm. I began referring to the other soul as my twin, despite our tumultuous interactions. He seemed to possess less mana, likely due to his lazy demeanor and penchant for kicking me—this sibling dynamic from life mirrored in death.

As my time in this magical womb drew to a close, I sensed the impending emergence into a new plane of existence. The metaphorical egg was about to crack, revealing what lay beyond. Would I meet my parents, reunite with loved ones, or embark on an entirely unforeseen journey? The anticipation brewed within me, mingling with a hint of apprehension and boundless curiosity.

And then, as if in response to my unspoken question, the darkness parted. I emerged into what appeared to be a Victorian-looking home. Blinking my eyes for the first time, I saw a man with sharp features: a prominent hooked nose, thin lips, and a tangle of black hair swept back from his forehead. His dark, penetrating eyes held a glimmer of something I couldn't quite decipher—perhaps relief or surprise. It seemed as though this was the first time he had smiled in weeks.

A sudden cough drew my attention to my side. There stood another man, his pale complexion almost porcelain-like, in stark contrast to his sleek, shoulder-length blond hair. His sharp, steel-colored eyes assessed everything with a calculating gaze that missed no detail. He spoke with clarity to the man holding me, "Severus, there is still another child to deliver. You can put my daughter down now."

Realization dawned upon me like a thunderbolt. " I was reincarnated."