The first few weeks passed in a blur of disorientation, as Veronica adjusted to the world around her. She was in a body that wasn't quite hers, living in a home she should've known by heart. But everything felt like a strange dream she couldn't fully wake up from.
In the mornings, she would wake to the soft, familiar sound of birds outside her window, and sometimes, if she listened closely enough, she'd hear the gentle rustling of her mother's magic garden just beyond the stone walls. The colors were vibrant, more alive than any flower she'd ever seen before. Sometimes, when no one was looking, she would press her small hand to the window, tracing the glass as if trying to hold onto something real.
At night, her dreams were filled with memories—her memories—but not hers at the same time. They were flashes of a family that she knew in her bones, of people who had raised her in this life and the one before. She would wake with tears in her eyes, heart aching for the people she had lost.
But every day, she forced herself to wake up, to continue. She couldn't afford to be lost anymore. She couldn't afford to be broken.
Two months into this strange new existence, Veronica had settled into a routine. She spent most of her days in the small library her parents had once used, reading the books her mother had left behind. Old tomes filled with magic and history, but also ones about the everyday lives of wizards and witches. These books felt like fragments of a life she had never truly lived, but they grounded her in a way nothing else could. She devoured them, letting their words soothe the ache in her chest.
It was in one of these books that she first noticed the slight shifts in her perception. Her fingers brushed over the pages of an ancient spellbook, and for the first time, she felt a spark—a connection she couldn't explain. The words on the page seemed to resonate within her. As if, deep within her, she already knew them. Her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn't resist trying one of the spells. It was a simple charm, one her mother had once told her stories about.
"Leviosa."
She whispered the words under her breath, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. But then the air around her hummed with energy, and a small feather on the desk floated into the air. Veronica's eyes widened in disbelief. She hadn't expected it to work. She hadn't expected to feel this—this magic.
Her heart pounded in her chest. This was real. This was truly happening.
For the first time since waking up in this new life, a sense of wonder filled her. She wasn't just a girl lost in a world she didn't understand. She was connected to something ancient, something powerful.
The more she practiced, the more she realized that these powers weren't just inherited from her family—they were part of her, as much as the memories she now carried of a life once lived. A life she was starting to reclaim, one piece at a 𝗍іmᥱ.
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But it wasn't just the magic that brought her a sense of peace. There were moments of connection with the house elves who had taken care of her since her parents' death. She could see the glimmer of familiarity in their eyes, as though they knew who she truly was, even when she didn't fully understand it herself. They would come to her, bringing her food, asking her how she was, and often, they would find her standing by the window, staring out at the same view.
One of the house elves, a small creature named Tally, approached her one evening, her large eyes filled with quiet concern.
"Miss Veronica, is you okay? You seem to be thinking so hard, but not saying much," Tally said softly, her voice a mix of tenderness and care.
Veronica smiled faintly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I'm okay, Tally. Just... thinking."
Tally nodded, her wrinkled face softening. "If ever you need to talk, Tally be here."
Veronica felt a swell of gratitude, the weight of loneliness lifting just a little. Maybe this life wouldn't be as empty as I thought.
As the days turned into weeks, she found herself exploring more of the estate. She ventured to places she had never really paid attention to before, discovering hidden corners of her family's home that seemed to hold secrets only the walls knew. In one of these quiet moments, she stumbled upon a room she didn't recognize, tucked away in the back of the house.
There, she found a chest—old and dusty, but still unmistakably hers. She hesitated for only a moment before opening it. Inside, she found pieces of her past—her childhood, her family's legacy. But there, in the very back, was a small box. She opened it to find a necklace, the pendant in the shape of a phoenix, a symbol of her family's lineage.
A wave of emotion overwhelmed her. This was more than just a trinket—it was a connection to her past, to her parents. The realization hit her hard: no matter what had happened in her previous life, they had loved her. They still did.
Veronica closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: she was no longer alone.
