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After a selfless act of heroism ends in her untimely death, a modern soul wakes to find herself reincarnated as Carina Malfoy, twin sister of the enigmatic Abraxas Malfoy. But this isn’t the golden era of Harry Potter it’s the 1940s, and Hogwarts is a very different place. As Carina navigates the treacherous waters of pureblood society and the growing influence of a charismatic and dangerous Tom Riddle, she discovers an system tied to her new identity. With this power, she must decide: will she manipulate the web of intrigue around her, or will she fight to change the course of a history heading toward darkness?
"You have done well," the voice said, calm and measured, its words carrying an almost otherworldly weight. "Few are willing to sacrifice themselves for another."
She tried to focus, to grasp the meaning behind the words. Then, like shards of glass piercing her mind, the memory came rushing back. The screaming child, the heavy trunk tumbling from the ledge, her desperate lunge to shove the boy out of the way. And then… nothing. Just the sickening crunch and the abrupt end of everything. She had died. She was sure of it.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling and small, though she had no throat to speak of, no mouth to form the words.
"A guide, of sorts," the voice replied, neither kind nor cruel, simply matter-of-fact. "Let us say that your actions did not go unnoticed. You may think of me as a higher being, though names are unimportant."
The vast emptiness around her seemed to pulse faintly, as if acknowledging her presence. She forced herself to ask, "What happens now?"
"That depends," the being said, a note of quiet amusement threading through its tone. "You have earned a reward for your sacrifice. Something you desire, a chance to correct the scales, perhaps."
Her thoughts churned, slow and heavy like molasses. A reward? What could she possibly ask for? What did she want? For so long, her life had been a series of shadows and disappointments. She remembered the taunts, the laughter, the averted gazes. Her reflection in the mirror had been her greatest torment: plain features, dull skin, and an unremarkable presence that made her seem invisible. She had tried to be kind, capable, hardworking, but it was never enough. In a world that valued beauty, she had been dismissed and forgotten.
"I wasn't… attractive," she admitted bitterly, her voice cracking with old wounds. "People judged me for it. I was invisible, or worse, mocked, no matter how much good I tried to do. I just… I just wanted to matter. To be seen."
"And what is it that you desire now?" the voice prompted gently.
The answer bubbled up before she could stop it. "If I'm going to live again," she whispered, "I want to be beautiful. Stunning, even. I want people to look at me and see someone worth noticing."
The silence that followed was profound, as if the universe itself held its breath. Her heart, if she still had one, clenched in the stillness, afraid she had asked for too much.
Finally, the voice spoke. "It shall be so."
Warmth spread through her, a sensation that soothed the ache of her memories and filled her with tentative hope. Relief and gratitude mingled with a flicker of unease.
"Where am I going?" she asked cautiously.
"That, dear one, is not for you to decide," the being replied, its tone as inscrutable as ever. "But rest assured, your request has been granted."
Before she could ask another question, the void vanished.
The air was heavy with the scent of lavender and beeswax. Distantly, she heard the sound of crackling firewood and the soft rustle of fabric. The muffled cries of an infant echoed in the background, soon followed by a pained, ragged voice.
"Push, my lady, you're nearly there!"
Her awareness returned slowly, like the dawn breaking over a horizon. A sharp cry pierced the room, and she realized with a jolt that it came from her own throat. Cold air bit at her skin as she was lifted and swaddled in a soft, woolen blanket. Her tiny body protested with instinctive wails, but soon warmth enveloped her as she was placed into waiting arms.
"It's a girl," the midwife announced, her voice tinged with reverence and relief.
Through blurry eyes, she caught sight of a woman a vision of elegance despite her exhaustion. Platinum blonde hair clung to her damp face, framing sharp, aristocratic features softened by maternal pride. The woman's pale blue eyes gazed down at her with a mixture of tenderness and satisfaction.
"She's perfect," the woman murmured. "Carina. Carina Malfoy."
The words sent a jolt through her foggy mind. Malfoy. The name carried weight, power, and an undeniable sense of familiarity. Before she could process the implications, another cry filled the air louder, sharper, more insistent. She tried toaught sight of another bundle in the midwife's arms.
"And here is her brother," the midwife announced. "A fine, healthy boy."
The woman's smile widened as the second infant was placed beside her. "Abraxas," she declared with pride. "Abraxas Malfoy"
The realization hit her like a thunderclap. She wasn't just reborn; she was a Malfoy. And not just any Malfoy Abraxas's twin sister. Her mind reeled as fragments of a long-forgotten fictional world collided with the stark reality before her. This was no ordinary second chance. She had been thrust into a time of grandeur and treachery, where pureblood supremacy reigned and darkness loomed on the horizon.
"Rest now, my lady," the midwife urged. "You've done well."
As Carina's tiny body succumbed to exhaustion, her newborn mind buzzed with questions. Somewhere beyond the opulent walls of the manor, the world was bracing for the rise of Grindelwald's forces. And in the shadows of Hogwarts, a young Tom Riddle was beginning his ascent.
She didn't yet know the extent of her role in this unfolding drama. But as her mother's soothing hum filled the room, one thing was certain this new life would be anything but ordinary.
