Lexi Layyer my only weakness*hp fanfic*

Who am I?

You know how, just when you think you know exactly where you life is headed, fate or destiny or whatever else you want to call it throws you such a curveball you question everything you’ve ever known?

Well, that’s what happened to me.

When I woke up I found myself in a room I’d never seen before. I was lying under the emerald green duvet of a large bed, which seemed to be the centre furnishing in the room besides a wardrobe and a dressing table both made out of dark wood.

The room was spacious but it felt so empty. A little light streaked from under the lavish green velvet curtains of a small window over the bed. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and tried to remember how I’d got here.

I remembered sudden bursts of flashing lights and violent screams. I remembered hitting my head so hard I couldn’t focus on anything but the blinding pain, and the warm feel of blood trickling down my face. I shuddered.

Cautiously, I lifted my fingers to where I thought I’d hit my head, but felt nothing but my hair. Frowning, I wondered if it had all been a vivid dream. Still, none of it explained how I’d got here.

“Think, Lexi,” I muttered to myself, and then felt relieved because at least I could remember who I was. I’m Lexi Layyer, I’m sixteen, I’m in Ravenclaw. My best friends are Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang and Ron Weasley but I don’t think he’s speaking to me at the moment.

So where am I?

I step out of bed and immediately wish I hadn’t. My head gives a sear of pain and it’s so overwhelming I have to sit back down again. While I wait for the pounding to cease I once again try to cast my memory back to what I can last remember doing, but nothing comes.

After rubbing my temples for a couple of minutes, I attempt getting back up again. This time my burning curiosity seems to overcome the pain because my head doesn’t protest too much.

My naked feet meet the cold surface of the dark wooden floors and that’s when I realize I’m wearing something I do not recognize; I have definitely not seen, let alone worn, the black silk night-dress I am wearing before…and you would remember something that clings to your body like that, leaving little to the imagination. I catch a glimpse of it in the mirror and wince.

I know without really knowing why that there will be clothes waiting for me in the wardrobe, and also that all of them will be as ridiculous as the nightdress – all long, almost floor-length dresses, just as figure-hugging and revealing and completely stupid. I scowl, and make a mental note to write out a whole essay to whomever it is that put all these clothes in here about how to not dress like an idiot.

So how did I get here?

I suspiciously go to the door and turn the door-handle, wondering what I’ll find on the other side, only to find it locked. Frowning, I cast my eyes back to the bed and wondering where my wand is, only to realize that I can’t see it anywhere.

That’s when I panic.

Before I’d somewhat blindingly assumed that answers would come as soon as I opened the door, but the door is locked, I don’t recognize the room or the clothes I’m wearing, and my wand is missing.

I try the door again but it’s not opening. I shove my whole body-weight against it in an attempt to shove it open manually but I already know it won’t work.

Trying to squash the quickly rising panic inside me, I calmly knock on the door. “Hello?” I call out uncertainly. “Is anyone there? Can you let me out, please? I think the door’s been locked by mistake...”

Whether or not it’s a mistake is beyond me. As much as I prefer to assume the best in people, things aren’t looking good. Especially when I try to budge open the window, only to find that locked, too.