The (Not-Quite) Hope Mikaelson Drops Into Beacon Hills

"Hiraeth isn't just longing for a place—it's the ache for a life that might have been, a home that was never mine, and the pieces of myself I left behind in every world I've touched." – (SI) Hope Mikaelson

Chapter 1: The (Not-Quite) Hope Mikaelson Drops Into Beacon Hills

Hope Mikaelson knew pain. She knew sacrifice. She knew what it meant to fling herself into a void for the greater good. So, when she jumped into Malivore, she fully expected a dramatic blackout followed by reappearing in some celestial afterlife therapy session.

Instead, she opened her eyes to... lockers.

High school lockers, complete with the faint stench of Axe body spray and the distant sound of teenagers arguing about gym class.

"What fresh hell is this?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Her voice sounded higher than she remembered, and her hands were less singed from magical combat than she expected. "Wait a minute... Am I alive?"

Before she could fully process the fact that she wasn't dead, a tall, athletic-looking teenager with buzzed hair and a smirk that screamed high school bad boy sauntered up to her.

"Yo, new girl, you lost or something?"

Hope blinked. "Yeah, I'm new. Totally lost," she lied, because Hope Mikaelson would never be lost. Unfortunately, she wasn't the real Hope Mikaelson. Not quite.

She was a transmigrator—a random soul that woke up one day in Hope's body, which, she had to admit, was a massive upgrade from her previous mundane life of spreadsheets and Netflix binges. She had Hope's memories, her snark, and apparently her absurdly good looks, but underneath it all, she was just a regular person trying to not screw up this whole supernatural gig.

"Name's Isaac," the boy introduced himself, flashing a smile that probably made half the girls in this school swoon.

"Hope," she replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile. Well, technically Hope Mikaelson, but let's not get into existential crises right now.

---

Hope wandered the hallways, trying to piece together what universe she had landed in this time. The teenagers here were all weirdly attractive and suspiciously athletic. It didn't take long for her to realize where she was.

Beacon Hills, she thought with a mix of dread and excitement. Home of the Teen Wolf pack, absurdly dangerous high school shenanigans, and lacrosse games that somehow involved more blood than a vampire convention.

Great, she mused. I sacrificed myself to stop Malivore, only to end up in a universe where werewolves play lacrosse and everyone looks like they belong in a CW show. Oh wait, they do.

She was passing by a classroom when she heard a familiar, frantic voice.

"Scott, I can't find my pen!"

Oh my god, that's Stiles Stilinski, she realized, her inner fangirl shrieking. She peeked into the room to see a lanky, hyperactive boy with wild hair digging through his backpack like it contained the secrets of the universe.

Before she could stop herself, Hope leaned in the doorway and blurted out, "Have you tried looking in your ear? I hear that's where lost things go."

Stiles whipped his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Who are you, and how dare you question my incredibly chaotic organization system?"

Hope smirked. "I'm Hope. And I'm just trying to save you from a meltdown."

Stiles' steps faltered when he came close to her pretty face. "Oh—oh hi there, I'm Stiles," he stammered, almost tripping over his own feet.

Pookie Stiles, she thought, resisting the urge to pinch his cheeks.

Scott McCall, the poster child for wholesome werewolves everywhere, appeared beside Stiles with a look that could only be described as polite curiosity.

"Hey, I'm Scott," he said, offering her a warm smile. "Are you new here?"

Oh, Scott. Sweet, innocent Scott, she thought. "Yeah, just transferred," she lied effortlessly, her heart rate not even flinching. Well, not so much transferred as magically teleported, but who's counting?

"Cool," Scott replied, clearly trying to be friendly. "If you need help finding your classes or anything, we're your guys."

Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I have a feeling she's not just an ordinary new student. What do you think, Scott? Werewolf, hunter, or... something else?" he whispered (and by whispered, I mean loudly enough for everyone in a 10-foot radius to hear).

Hope rolled her eyes, deciding to mess with him a little. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, flashing her teeth just enough to make them wonder if she had fangs.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Dude, what if she's a vampire?" he whispered (again, loudly) to Scott, who now looked genuinely concerned.

Hope couldn't resist. "Only on Thursdays," she deadpanned, walking away and leaving them both staring after her in confusion.

---

By the time lunch rolled around, Hope had decided that if she was going to be stuck in Beacon Hills, she might as well embrace the chaos. She grabbed a tray of what was supposed to be food (seriously, were they trying to poison the students?) and scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. Naturally, she spotted Scott, Stiles, and the rest of their merry band of supernatural misfits at a table in the corner.

She strolled over and plopped down next to Stiles, who immediately turned into a flustered mess. "I hope y'all don't mind me sitting here," she said, casually munching on her fries as if she owned the place.

Stiles looked like he was about to explode from excitement. "Mind? Are you kidding? This is awesome!"

Scott just gave her that cautious yet friendly smile, clearly trying to figure out if she was going to murder them all or ask them to join a study group.

Just as things were starting to settle, the cafeteria door slammed open, and in walked Lydia Martin, looking like she was ready to drop some serious drama.

"There's a new girl in town, and she's not on my list," Lydia announced dramatically, her eyes narrowing at Hope.

Hope snorted. "Sorry to mess up your social hierarchy, but I'm just here for the pizza." Which is not in the menu by the way.

Stiles leaned over to Scott. "Dude, I think I'm in love."

Scott sighed. "Stiles, you think you're in love every week."

Their conversation was interrupted when Scott dropped his apple in shock at the sight of some bombshell blonde strutting into the cafeteria. What was her name again? Elena? Emilia? Ariana? Honestly, Hope couldn't be bothered to remember. Her brain was too fried from all the Legacy drama and that walking boy-toy Landon (aka Elena 2.0).

I bet that idiot is all over Josie right now, she thought bitterly. Real Hope deserves so much better.

"What the… holy hell… is that?" Lydia asked, clearly confused, snapping Hope out of her pity party.

"It's Erica," Scott mutters.

Scott and Stiles jumped up to follow the newly turned warewolf girl, who was probably the newest addition to their little supernatural circus.

Hope just shrugged and took a big bite of her apple. I don't remember what happens this season, but hey, at least I've got fries and a front-row seat to all the drama.

Hope Mikaelson—or whoever she really was—had landed in a world full of werewolves, hunters, and high school drama. And she was ready to shake things up.

Because if there was one thing she had learned from being Hope Mikaelson (kind of), it was that sometimes the best way to deal with supernatural chaos... was to become it.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.