A Skeptical Slytherins Revolution

People are easily distracted, and some struggle to follow the simple social norms that modern society expects. Mia had clawed her way up from a humble beginning, born into poverty and loneliness. With above-average intelligence and an unparalleled work ethic, she surpassed many geniuses by sheer determination. She earned a master's in biomedical engineering, a minor in materials science, and eventually a doctorate in mechanical engineering. Her career thrust her into cutting-edge research in brain-controlled prosthetics, tissue repair, and gene editing.

On a typical night, Mia left the lab feeling drained. The demands from higher-ups were relentless, pushing her to her limits. Her only goal now was to reach her room and release the frustration that simmered beneath the surface. "Of course, it's F–ing raining," she muttered as she walked down the deserted sidewalks. Few sane people ventured out at 2 AM on a Tuesday in April, but the job sometimes required it. The pedestrian light flickered on the other side of the crosswalk, signaling her to proceed. With a quick glance both ways, she stepped onto the street.

Mark Sinclair was in a different state of mind. Fueled by a cocktail of intoxicants and the adrenaline rush of blasting through deserted streets, he paid little attention to anything beyond the music pounding through his father's car speakers. The road ahead was empty, and a speeding fine was within his monthly allowance.

He didn't see anything until it was too late. The impact was sudden and violent. Mark slammed on the brakes, heart racing as he stumbled out of the car. "Hopefully that was a raccoon," he thought to himself, that was until he looked over. There, lying on the pavement, was Mia—a woman not much older than himself, her face turned towards the sky, her legs sprawled in an unnatural state. "Oh shit… Oh shit… Oh Shit" he repeated while dialing 911, "My Dad is going to kill me".

Mia's POV

When I came to, my first thought was that maybe I would be okay. I was surrounded by the highest-tech equipment money could buy—clearly, insurance paid well when a rich brat hit you. But as I tried to move, panic set in. I couldn't feel anything. Fear gripped me as I recognized several pieces of the equipment, despite lacking a doctorate I knew they meant bad news. I was in serious trouble.

The next few days blurred into a haze of tests, consultations, and grim prognoses. I couldn't feel pain, but the reality of my situation weighed heavily. Despite knowing the odds were against me, I fought fiercely for survival. Exhausted and frustrated, I clung to the hope of what I still wanted to accomplish. In my final hours, the incessant beeping of hospital monitors filled my ears, each sound a distant echo as my world grew dim. The cold blackness crept in slowly, enveloping me. I wasn't done yet, I still wanted to live.

The onset of darkness had overtaken me, it felt as if pulled through an invisible tunnel, and slowly everything changed. Flashes of light and fragments of memories swirled around me, slipping away like sand through my fingers. Yet, I grasped at them desperately, pulling anything I remembered of value, science, math, and the various media I had consumed, a feeling of filling myself back up was all I could hope for. Just as suddenly as it began, it stopped, I was back in the darkness but it felt different.