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Somewhere in the world
I'm sitting behind the counter, occasionally checking the store's front camera. The TV murmurs from a corner while I scroll through Reels on my phone.
TV noises.
Damn congressmen, I think while listening to the panelists talk. Raising their salaries again while hospitals lack medicine and the police feel more like a suggestion than a necessity.
And this random weather… of course the weather app had to be wrong.
I sigh. At least the sound of the rain gives me some peace.
Ding.
I glance sideways and see a guy walk in wearing a jacket. I go back to my phone, but the calm doesn't last. I hear him walking straight toward me. I look up again.
His face is set. One hand stays hidden inside the jacket.
My body tenses. I freeze for just a moment, until I see him pointing straight at my face.
"Don't make any sudden moves and keep your hands where I can see them."
My legs start shaking. I stand up slowly, hands raised. He moves fast, grabs a couple of plastic bags, and throws them onto the counter.
"The small bills. And make it quick."
I think I blank out for a couple of seconds too long, because I jump when he slams his fists on the counter.
"Hurry up, I don't have all night!"
I move to the cash register. I gather the money as fast as I can, trying to breathe deeply.
"H-here… please don't shoot me," I say, frantic, hesitating at first.
I watch him grab the bag of money without wasting any time.
I take advantage of the moment I have to lower my hand to press the button that sends an alarm signal to the nearest police station. I press it and—
Click.
BANG. BANG.
It feels like time stops.
At first, I feel nothing. Less than a second later, I stagger backward. I bring both hands to my stomach and fall.
Then the pain comes. So much pain that I forget how to breathe. Actually, I can't. I try, but the pain hits even harder.
My ears are ringing. I think I'm crying. I don't know anymore.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
The doorbell sounds distant. I think about my family: my parents, my little sister.
Yeah. I'm definitely crying now.
My vision blurs. I keep hearing the rain falling, slower and slower. I have no strength left. I'm numb. I've lost too much blood.
"I-I…"
Rain.
Rain.
Rain.
Rain.
Rain.
Rain.
I don't know how much time passes, but I hear sirens in the distance. Probably the police.
I don't think I'm going to make it, I think sadly.
Calm settles in. My body stops breathing, stops moving, and…
I die.
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I wake up feeling warmth.
I can't see. I can't hear. Just that sensation, like someone is holding me. For a second, I think that's what dying feels like.
Then I'm pushed.
Noise. Movement. A sharp pain that makes me scream without understanding why.
"Hang in there, ma'am, one more to go. Almost done."
And once again, darkness.
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Being a child isn't the hard part.
Well. It is if you're me.
But the worst part is remembering.
Oh God. Not being able to speak properly, move my hands, see absolutely anything clearly, and… yeah. Shitting myself. I do not recommend reincarnation. To whatever higher forces are responsible for my situation… you could've at least transmigrated me properly. I've read about this stuff, and this is nothing like what they described.
For example, how the hell are people supposed to see perfectly at birth?
WHY DID I GET SCAMMED?
I couldn't see shit at first. Almost everything was black or blurry. But hey, I cultivated patience and the art of doing absolutely nothing. Because I couldn't do anything else, besides crying over everything.
Anyway, leaving those lovely memories behind.
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My body is five years old. FINALLY!!!
I can move. I can talk. And thank God, I don't shit myself anymore.
I had different parents. They were good. Patient. They took care of me.
They weren't mine.
That's not something you get over. You learn to live with it.
And I had a twin sister. I loved her. She was my sister. I'm the older one again. Even if it's only by minutes.
Guess my face when I heard our family name.
Granger.
Wait. That was definitely just a coincidence, right?
I didn't want to believe it at first, but when your twin is named Hermione and starts looking a lot like someone you've already seen before… yeah. I couldn't deny it.
I'm in the damn Harry Potter world.
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They call me Hadrien now.
At first, that name didn't feel like mine. With time, it stopped bothering me.
Not because I fully accepted it.
But because I didn't have a choice.
And now, the important part.
MAGIC. In all caps.
You're a wizard, Hadrien. Heh. References aside.
When you can feel something like a seventh sense, that strange something inside you. At first, I thought it was just my stomach. I mean, not my fault—I was a baby. Babies are always hungry.
But now I've tried doing magic without a wand, like Tom did. Emphasis on tried. It didn't work. I feel something move inside me, come out, and then fade away. Maybe I just don't have enough magic yet.
Let's go back to less mystical topics.
My family: Dan, Emma, and Hermione. A typical British family for the time. Both parents are dentists, pretty successful from what I can tell. Hermione is still a pure child, no self-esteem issues, and above all, the cutest creature on the planet.
Now that I'm older—mentally speaking, with more experience—I can definitely see why fathers adore their daughters.
I still feel a slight sadness every time I look at her. She reminds me of her. And it hurts.
But I'll get over it.
I have to.
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And I definitely don't like primary school.
Jesus, I've got, like, 27 years of mental age stacked together. I can't do it. It's incredibly frustrating to deal with an idiot—or to be gentle, someone intellectually lazy. And these are kids whose brains are barely developing.
I tolerate them.
I don't have to like it.
I definitely stand out. Not enough to look like some unnatural prodigy, but come on—I don't need to skip years. Let's enjoy the calm before eleven.
Slow and steady. One step at a time.}
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