Waking up has never been my favourite thing. While I have trouble falling asleep, I do love sleeping, as it’s hours upon hours where I don’t have to keep myself occupied. It’s more time where I don’t have to fulfill social obligations (the few I bother with), or find something new to read or occupy my time with.

I am a boring person, preferring my own solitude and company than mingling with others, I’m not sure I’ve always been like this, but for the last few years at least.

Which is why my brain is currently trying to occupy itself with idle thoughts and random tangents, as upon waking up, I realize this is not my room.

I lived in 2022, albeit an older house, still modern, and this, is obviously not it.

Cobble walls and cobble floors, banners and tapestry of blue, bronze and black adorning the otherwise gray and weathered walls. It is obviously some sort of castle, and an old one. Comparing it to those seen in England and France, I suppose these ones has to be ancient, as in pre-arthurian era.

“Hello Celestia.”

Jumping in shock, I cast a quick glance around the room trying to identify the voice, adrenalin surging in my veins, is it a threat? It was a female voice, but I haven’t heard anyone else alive in here.

A bed, a window with black skies beyond, an animal rug on the floor, tapestry, banners, a portrait that moves.

A portrait that moves? My attention immediately focuses on the portrait, and there’s this nagging feeling in my brain that I know the woman it depicts. She looks to be around mid forties, pale skin, black hair, dark eyes.

“Done staring, are we?”

Of course it’s a talking, moving portrait, the feeling of familiarity grows stronger.

“Wouldn’t you also be staring if it’s the first time in your life that you see a moving portrait that also talks? Not only that, waking up in what I can only assume to be a castle?”

The woman in the portrait laughs, it’s a husky sound that should send shivers down my spine, except the only thing I can feel is warmth and safety.

“I suppose. Do you want to keep trying to figure out the situation, or do you want me to explain it to you?”

Apparently I’m easier to read than I thought. 

“Okay so I’m in a child's body. This is for all purposes an old castle, it should be windy, cold, but it’s not, it’s warm, but there’s no fireplace or modern heaters.” I mumble out loud, much to the amusement of the woman. I didn’t even know a portrait could gain a glint in its eyes.

“Go on.” 

“Based on your clothes either I am in a time period centuries behind where I came from, or you are from a different society, your Scottish accent.” I trail off, this isn’t even necessary. “Oh who am I kidding, this has to be Wizarding Britain.”

The woman lets out another laugh. “Indeed it is Celestia.” Celestia? I suppose that’s my name here.

I look at her, “So?”

She still looks amused but schools her facial expressions. “Fine, fine. Yes this would be what you call Wizarding Britain, or the “Harry Potter Universe” in your world.” Well at least different world is confirmed.”It is January 1st, 1982 and you are five years old today. Your name is Celestia Ravenclaw, and you are my daughter.”

Oh, oh I did not see that one coming.

“Then.” I swallow, my throat is dry, reality is much more different than fiction. “You are Rowena Ravenclaw?”

Rowena smiles. “Indeed, I suppose you have a lot more questions, but they will have to wait. I will tell you the most pressing ones right now. You don’t have a father, you have two mothers. Me, and Hecate. The Goddess of Magic, Crossroads and Choices. In a few moments your body will feel on fire, your insides melting, and you will want to die, as you are about to awaken your dragonsoul, you are, what did they call it again in your world?”

I can feel the fire starting, and I am not looking forward to what she described, does this woman has to pause for dramatic effect, now of all times?

“Dovakhiin.”