Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I sat at the bar, nursing my second glass of Firewhisky, watching the rain streak down the window. I kept wondering if I should just go back to the Burrow, but the thought of facing Fred after the fight made my chest tighten like a vise.

His words kept replaying in my mind, sharp and cutting, each one feeling like a tiny knife twisting over and over. Could our relationship even survive this? There was too much anger, too much resentment…too much pain from both of us.

Grimacing, I drained the rest of the burning liquid and forced myself to stand. I told myself I’d go to bed, that by morning Fred might be calm enough for a conversation, even if it was just the start of one.

But my head felt light…too light. I was not a good drinker, and maybe I’d had too much. I stumbled down the hallway that should have led to the stairs. Only the stairs weren’t there.

I froze. “I’m not that drunk,” I muttered to myself, though my stomach flipped and my head felt like it was filled with cotton.

Where the stairs should have been, there was a door instead. Heavy oak, chipped red paint, a knob dulled almost to silver. A faint shimmer seemed to pulse along its edges, like the door itself was breathing. I could feel a faint vibration through the floorboards as I approached it.

Curiosity got the best of me, I touched the knob, and a subtle buzzing ran through my fingers, crawling up my arm. The door creaked open, letting out a long groan as if it were alive.

Inside, the room was almost empty. Dust motes floated lazily in the dim light, settling on chairs draped in dingy white cloth. But at the far end, nestled between two ancient cauldrons, stood a mirror.

I stepped closer, closing the door behind me. I could feel the air thicken around me, almost sticky, as if the room wanted to keep me here.

The mirror itself was taller than me, and quite wide. A smoky haze curled and twisted inside the glass, distorting my reflection in unsettling ways. I raised a hand slowly. It passed right through the glass, my fingers trembling as if I were touching water.

“Oh,” I whispered in surprise.

A soft, breathy voice tickled my ear. “Go on, dear.”

I spun, gripping my wand at my hip. But the room was still empty. The door was shut tight behind me. The chairs remained draped. The cauldrons sat like ancient sentinels, silent.

The smoke in the mirror swirled counter-clockwise, almost beckoning me. I could feel the air pulling me closer. I took a shuddering breath and pressed my face through. Darkness swallowed me, thick and cold, until I landed in a room that was… the same. The door was on the opposite end.

I looked back at the mirror. The smoky haze vanished, leaving only my reflection staring back.
Everything else seemed identical…but a subtle unease lingered. Something was off, but I could exactly tell what.

Panic clawed at me. I stumbled out of the room, and down the hall to the bar. Everything looked exactly the same. I turned to the bartender, his expression blank and calm as he polished a glass behind the counter.

“Uh… excuse me,” I said, breathless, my voice tight, “Was that room always there? With the mirror??”

He blinked. “Mirror? What mirror?”

I laughed nervously, shaking my head. Shit. “Yeah… never mind. Must’ve had too much to drink.”

I decided it was time to go back to the Burrow. At least there, I could collapse into my bed and maybe apologize to Fred tomorrow. We could laugh about the fact that I got so drunk that I was seeing mirrors that I could stick my hand through.

I was sobering up, and decided to Apparate home.

When I arrived, I opened the door and made my way into the living room.

The house was mostly dark, save for a few stray lights illuminating the figures on the couches.

“Selena?!” Molly gasped, rushing over and clutching my arms. “Where on earth were you?!”
I looked at her confused. “I was just at the Leaky…I told you that before I left.” I said. Her eyes widened more, Ron was staring at me like I had three heads.

I reached my hand up tentatively and felt my hair…nope, still just one.

“Selena, you’ve been gone for three weeks. We’ve tried to find you, we’ve sent countless owls.” Hermione gently chimed in, her eyes looking just as confused as the others.

“Three… what?” My voice cracked. “No. I had a fight with Fred hours ago, and went out to clear my head.” I shook my head. “I came home to apologize

Molly let out a sob as Ron pulled her in for a comforting hug. “That isn’t funny, Sel.” He said sharply.

Hermione’s voice was quiet, but steady. “Selena… Fred died during the battle.”
She hesitated, eyes flicking to the floor.
“You know that. You were there.”

My stomach dropped. I shook my head, unable to breathe. “No… I just… I saw him hours ago. And he’s fine. He has to be!”

They looked at me helplessly, and I could feel panic rising in my chest. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I had to explain... “I was going to stay the night at the Leaky but there was a door instead of the stairs, there was a mirror! It brought me here”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and suddenly her disbelief faltered. “Wait…a mirror brought you here?” she asked slowly.

I blinked at her. “Yes… yes, exactly that. I thought I was just drunk but…” the words almost choked me.

Hermione looked at me, awe and fear flickering in her expression. “Selena, if you’re telling the truth… that mirror may have been a portal. I’ve read about certain mirrors that can take people to other timelines.” She drew in a breath. “Nobody’s seen one in centuries. They’re rare… and dangerous. Why would there be one at the Leaky?”

I swallowed hard, the room suddenly feeling impossibly small. I shrugged a shoulder, “Tom didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“If this is true, does that mean there’s a world where Fred survived?” Ron asked, adjusting his arm over his mother’s shoulder. Molly peeked up at me, hope flickering in her eyes, waiting for my answer.

Hermione interjected before I could speak.
“It’s just a theory, but I really don’t think this is our Selena,” she began, grabbing her beaded bag off the table, “Ron, don’t tell anyone else about this until we get back.” She instructed.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the fireplace.

“I want to see the mirror.” She threw Floo powder into the flames, green sparks lighting her determined face.

Chapter Text

I followed Hermione through the Floo flames, my stomach still aching from the confrontation back at the Burrow. The warmth of the Leaky Cauldron did little to soothe me; everything looked normal, but my gut knew it wasn’t.

When we reached the stairs, I froze. They were back. The same old wooden staircase I’d climbed countless times. I reached out instinctively, expecting the air to ripple or a shimmer to pulse under my fingers. But the wood felt solid.

“What the hell?” I whispered, panic rising in my voice, “it was RIGHT HERE!” I ran my hands along the banister, desperate for the door to appear.

Hermione waved her wand a few times, muttering different incantations. Nothing happened.
She glanced at me, doubt starting to form behind her eyes again.

I waved my hand over the wall beneath the steps. A faint glow pulsed there, almost like it was breathing. I could feel the subtle vibration in my fingers, the same electric tingle that had raced up my arm the first time I touched the portal.

“Can you feel that?” I whispered, pressing my palm gently against the wall.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Feel what?” She waved her hand in front of the staircase. “I don’t see anything.”

I felt my brows furrowing. “It’s… it’s just there. I can feel it.”

She stepped closer, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “It’s exactly like the journals described. Extremely rare, centuries old magic… only visible to someone the magic chooses.” She hesitated. “Someone emotionally…attuned.”

I snapped my head towards her. The words rang in my head. Emotionally attuned. I saw it while I wasn’t in a good mindset…

Hermione glanced around the hallway, then back at me. “Selena, I think we need to go see McGonagall. She’ll know what to do. If what you’re describing is real…” She hesitated. “Then we need to figure out how to get you home.”

I nodded, my eyes trailing the wall again. The faint shimmer pulsing, taunting me as if to say ‘I’m here but you can’t get me.’

Hermione grabbed my hand, gently leading me back to the fireplace. My mind barely comprehended throwing the Floo powder in, only registering the whoosh of emerald flames as we traveled.

———-

The castle was still recovering from the war…cracks in the walls, faint scorch marks, and the smell of cleaning potions lingering in the air. Then there was the knowledge of what actually happened here…I couldn’t help but wonder who else died here that survived in my world.

We sat across from McGonagall’s desk, the silence heavy until a familiar voice broke through.

“Ah, how delightful,” Dumbledore’s portrait said, his eyes twinkling as they fixed on us. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so soon.”

I froze. He wasn’t surprised. Not a flicker of shock at seeing me, though everyone else had been horrified at my return.

“We have…an issue, Professor,” Hermione began, gesturing to me.

Dumbledore’s gaze was calm as he tilted his head. “Ah, yes. I see. I cannot say I’m surprised.”
My pulse quickened. Did he know about the mirror?

“This Selena,” Hermione said carefully, “came here through some sort of mirror portal in the Leaky Cauldron. She isn’t supposed to be here.”

“Most peculiar,” Dumbledore mused. His eyes glinted as they lingered on me. “But I suspect there is purpose in it. Who’s to say she isn’t right where she needs to be?”

I barely had time to process his cryptic calm before the office door opened, and Minerva McGonagall entered. Her eyes immediately went to me, wide with shock and worry.

“Selena! I thought…” Her voice caught. “I feared the worst!”

I opened my mouth to explain, but Hermione held up a hand. “Professor, please, try to stay calm. This isn’t…the Selena you know.”

Minerva stared at Hermione, her lips pinched into a tight line. “What, dare I ask, are you talking about?”

“I’m not from here. I was at the Leaky, after a fight with Fred-“ I began,
“Fred??” Minerva interrupted, a hand gripping her robes.

“Yes, Fred. I went to the Leaky after a fight to calm down, maybe spend a night away from each other. And when I went to go to my room, the stairs were gone,” I continued, fidgeting with my sleeve as Minerva’s eyes pierced through me, “There was a door…it had this shimmer to it. As I opened it, I saw there was a mirror at the end of the room. It was hazy, and when I touched it my hand went through. There were…voices urging me through and the next thing I knew I was here.”

McGonagall’s brow furrowed deeply. “A mirror portal. I’ve always assumed those were mere myths…fairy tales. Nobody has reported seeing one in, well, centuries. Likely before even Professor Dumbledore was born.” Her eyes flicked to the now empty portrait.

My lips trembled slightly. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to what, dear?” Minerva asked gently, noticing my hesitation.

I shook my head, words failing me.

Her expression tightened, and she turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger, I’ll need to research this thoroughly, but the castle is still under repair. It may take time before I can focus my efforts. Until then…”Her gaze softened as it returned to me. “You must stay hidden. We cannot risk confusing anyone, not until our Selena returns… if she ever does.”

Her words fell like a weight across my shoulders.

Hermione slid her hand into mine, her voice low and steady. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

I nodded, trying to breathe evenly, but the buzz in my chest refused to quiet.

———

Hermione led me out of McGonagall’s office, her hand still lightly gripping mine as though I might vanish if she let go. The corridors felt both achingly familiar and foreign…half repaired, half scarred from the war. The was silence broken only by the distant echo of hammers and spellfire mending stone.

We turned a corner, and I froze.

Hanging on the wall just ahead was a newly painted portrait. The frame gleamed as though it had only been hung a few days ago.

And inside it was Fred.

My breath caught in my throat. He looked younger somehow…mischief in his grin, his hair falling into his eyes, frozen in the golden charm of the artist’s brushstrokes. But as his painted eyes lifted and met mine, something shifted. His expression softened, alive with recognition.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore…er uh..painted eyes,” His voice rang clear, warm, and for a dizzying second it was him.

Hermione glanced at me, her face tightening with sympathy. “I’ll give you a moment,” she murmured, stepping back down the corridor.

I swallowed hard, stepping closer to the frame. My hands trembled. “Hi, Fred.”

His smile faltered, confusion clouding his painted eyes. Then, after a pause, his voice dropped, almost breaking. “You’re not her, are you?”

My throat burned. I shook my head. “No. I’m not your Selena.”

Fred leaned against the painted edge of the frame, his grin gone, replaced by a sadness that twisted my chest. “Merlin. And here I was hoping…”He cut himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. You’re stuck here too, huh?”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

He studied me for a long moment, his painted gaze gentle. “Well, I’ve got eons of time.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I went through this mirror…I guess it was a portal. And I ended up here, I guess this is an opposite timeline to my own. I don’t know how to get home.”

Fred leaned forward, voice quiet but sure. “Well that’s surely a doozy. But it will be alright. If the world was daft enough to throw you into mine, there’s a reason. And until you figure it out…”his lips quirked upward, the ghost of his old grin returning, “you can come chat with me anytime. Promise I’ll be better company than the rest.”

The ache in my chest softened just enough. “Thanks, Fred.”

His painted eyes warmed. “Anytime, love.”

I stood there a moment longer, letting the silence settle around us, before finally turning away. Hermione was waiting, her expression carefully neutral, though I caught the flicker of understanding in her eyes.

“You ready?” she asked softly.

I nodded, though my heart felt heavier than ever.

Chapter Text

Hermione had tucked me away in a spare room with strict instructions: stay hidden, don’t wander, don’t make any loud sounds. But hiding felt impossible in a house that once brimmed with life. I perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the worn red quilt, wondering if I’d ever feel like I belonged anywhere again.

A soft knock startled me. Before I could answer, the door creaked open. Molly slipped inside, closing it gently behind her. She carried a tray with tea and a plate of sandwiches.

“You must be hungry, dear,” she said, her voice quiet. She set the tray on the small table by the window and turned to me, her eyes shining with something I couldn’t quite name.

I smiled gently at her, “I am, thank you.” I reached for a sandwich, taking a small bite.

Her lips curved into a sad smile. “Hermione told me to try and let you rest. But I couldn’t just let you sit up here alone.” She pulled out a chair and sat, picking up a cup. “Besides… it’s nice. Having you here. Even if you’re not her.”

For a moment we just sipped in silence. Then Molly spoke again, her voice trembling. “Our Selena…she was like a daughter to me. She’d been with Fred since fifth year. Always at our house, always laughing in the garden with Ginny. When she disappeared after…” Her throat caught, and she dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “I felt like I lost two children that day.”

My lip quivered at the sight of her crying. I wanted to reach for her hand but hesitated. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

She studied me for a long moment. “Tell me about him. Your Fred.”

I smiled sadly at her, allowing myself to reach for her hand. “He’s infuriating sometimes, and stubborn, and he drives me absolutely mad when he hides firecrackers under the sofa cushions. But he’s so kind. His laugh can be heard across the house. He still wants to reopen the joke shop.” My voice wavered. “He’s still him.”

Molly’s eyes brimmed with tears, but this time she smiled through them. “It does my heart good to hear that. Somewhere out there, my boy is still growing up. He’s getting the future he deserved.”

I squeezed squeezing it tight. “He still has all of you too. He still has a family that loves him.”

For the first time since I’d arrived in this world, I felt something shift. The grief wasn’t gone, but for Molly…for me…it softened, just a little.

We sat like that for a while, the ticking of the clock filling the silence. Two women from different worlds, bound by the same love, clinging to the same boy in two very different ways.

The door opened and Hermione slipped in, her eyes flicking between us. “I thought I told you both…” she started, but her voice softened when she saw Molly’s hand in mine.

Molly drew back slowly, though she didn’t let go right away. “She needed company, Hermione. And so did I.”

Hermione hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I understand. Just… be careful. The more people grow attached, the harder this will be when she has to leave.”

Molly’s gaze lingered on me, warm and steady. “I know. But sometimes comfort matters more than the inevitable.”

She gave my hand one last squeeze before rising, leaving the room colder in her absence.

Hermione sat down on the bed beside me, watching the door close. “She’s right, you know. It’s dangerous. But… I’m glad you had this moment.”

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. Dangerous or not, I already knew I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

——-

Going on 2 in the morning, it was so quiet. Even in the dead of night…I expected to hear the ghoul in the attic, snores, maybe the muffled chatter of the television Harry had convinced Molly to get. But instead, the silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

Regardless, trying to sleep was pointless.

I laid awake for hours, staring at the slanted ceiling above my borrowed bed. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fred…my Fred…laughing at some joke, or leaning in to kiss my forehead before bed. And then I saw this world’s Fred: gone. Lost to a ruthless war.

Eventually, I gave up. I slid out from under the quilt, careful not to let the floorboards betray me, and crept into the hall. My bare feet carried me almost on instinct up the narrow staircase, until I stood outside the door I knew too well.

Fred’s room. Technically my room.
I stopped for a minute and listened for George, but didn’t hear anything so I gently pushed the door open. It was empty.

The room greeted me with a wash of familiarity. The quilt on the bed was rumpled, but not the way I remembered. Posters of Quidditch teams and scantily clad witches were still plastered on the walls, but they leaned at odd angles…curling at the edges. Half empty ink bottles and crumpled bits of parchment covered the desk, and a single sock hung from the bedpost like some forgotten banner.

It was Fred’s room. And it wasn’t.
I stepped inside, my breath catching as my eyes landed on the trunk at the foot of the bed. I crouched, looking for the name plate until I found it: SELENA FAIRCHILD.

Inside were layers of letters tied in string, scraps of parchment with doodles and ideas for the joke shop, photographs. And beneath it all, journals.

I picked one up, fingers brushing the worn cover. I don’t know what I expected, but these were hers.
The other Selena.

I sat cross legged on the floor, the journal heavy in my lap. My hands trembled as I opened it, as though the words inside might bite.

26th April, 1998
I can’t stop worrying. Harry, Ron, and Hermione haven’t been seen in days. Everyone knows something’s coming, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Are they eating? Sleeping? Are they even alive? I wish I could do more. Fred keeps telling me to breathe, but I can see it in his eyes…he’s scared too.

It was the exact same as my journal back in my world.

Another entry:

29 April, 1998
Molly keeps pretending everything will be fine, but she’s been crying when she thinks no one can hear. George and Fred spend half the day whispering plans for the shop, like they’ll actually reopen it after all this is over. I think they’re just trying to keep themselves sane. Fred asked me today if I’d leave with him if things went badly. I laughed, but part of me wanted to say yes. Part of me still does.

My Fred had asked me the same question.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, fighting the tears that threatened.

Another entry, the day before the Battle:

1 May, 1998
It feels like the whole world is holding its breath. There are wards going up around the castle, and whispers of what’s to come. I’m terrified, but Fred keeps making me promise we’ll dance at the victory party. I told him I’d hold him to it. If anything happens to him, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t imagine a life without him…

The ink trailed off, blotched as though she’d been pulled away mid thought.

I closed the journal slowly, my hands shaking. She had no idea what was going to happen.

I set it aside and reached for the stack of photographs. My heart shattered more when I saw the first one…Fred and her, laughing in the garden, him throwing his arm around her shoulders. I had the same photo in my own world, down to the crooked grin on his face. Only here, his jumper was blue instead of red, and the sky looked a little more gray.

Another photo…me and the Golden Trio, all waving at the camera. Except Ron had a hat on, and Ginny’s hair was shorter. Small differences, but enough to make the room feel smaller.

I held the photos close, my eyes blurring. For a moment, I let myself imagine the memories from my world. That I wasn’t in THIS room…that I was home in mine. That Fred would walk in any second, tease me for snooping, and pull me into his arms.

But he wouldn’t. Not here.

I wiped my eyes quickly and tucked the photos back into the trunk. My gaze drifted across the room again, and I noticed little details I’d missed at first. Charms etched faintly into the window frame…protective spells, worn but still clinging. A stack of joke prototypes, half-finished, with notes scribbled in Fred’s hand: Too much smoke, add sparkle. Don’t let Mum see this one.

It was like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to come back.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the bed sheets were cold, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A floorboard creaked behind me. I whipped around, pointing my wand, only to see Hermione standing in the doorway.

“Selena,” she whispered, her eyes soft with understanding. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I swallowed hard. “I just… I needed to see him. Even if it’s not… my Fred.”

She stepped inside, her voice low and gentle. “I know. But this…” she nodded to the journals, the photos, the pieces of a life not yours “…it’s dangerous. You can’t let yourself get lost in someone else’s grief. You’re already carrying enough of your own.”

I hugged the journal to my chest. “She was just like me. She worried about the same people. Loved him the same way.”

Hermione sat beside me, placing a hand over mine. “That’s why you need to be careful. It feels familiar, but it’s not your life. If you cling to it too tightly, you’ll forget which world is yours.”

I closed my eyes, tears finally spilling over. “I just wanted to feel close to him. Just for a moment.”

She squeezed my hand. “I understand. Really, I do. But come on. Let’s get you back to bed before anyone notices.”

I placed the journal gently back into the trunk, along with the photographs, and stood. As Hermione guided me out of the room, I glanced back one last time.

Somewhere deep inside, I promised other Selena that I’d remember her words. That I’d carry her love, her fear, her unfinished sentences…because if nothing else, it meant she wasn’t forgotten.

Chapter Text

It had only been three days. Three days of hiding in Ron’s room at the Burrow, trying my best to not make any noise.

I was wondering if anyone would question why Ron wasn’t staying here, but I guess Hermione had told him to stay in the apartment above the joke shop temporarily.

I’d read every one of the books Hermione left me…half of which I barely understood…and still, the hours dragged by like I was serving some kind of sentence.

I was going mad with the waiting.

When Hermione finally pushed open the door that afternoon, balancing a tray with tea and some sort of sandwich, I sat up immediately.

“Anything?” I asked, too quickly.

She gave me a look, that patient, too wise for her age look that made me want to scream. “I’ve sent an owl to Professor McGonagall. We have to wait for her response.”

My shoulders slumped. “So… nothing.”

“Selena, you can’t exactly walk into the castle again unannounced. Do you realize the chaos it would cause if people saw you? They would assume you’re our Selena.”

I clenched my jaw. She was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. “I just hate feeling like I’m locked up here. I want to help figure this out.”

“You are helping,” she said gently, setting the tray on the desk. “You’re being patient.”

I huffed and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling beams. Patient. Right.

⸻

Later that evening, I poked my head out the door and listened in the direction of the bathroom.
All clear. I crept toward the door, pausing after hearing voices floating up the stairs.

Hermione’s voice, calm as ever, and then Ginny’s, sharper, strained.

“…she hasn’t answered a single letter, Hermione. Not one. I keep writing, and it’s like I’m talking to a ghost.”

My breath caught. They were talking about her. The other me.

Hermione murmured something too low for me to catch.

Ginny’s reply was louder, ragged with hurt. “She just left. Do you understand that? One moment, she was with us, and then after Fred…” her voice cracked on his name “…she was gone. No goodbye, no explanation. Just gone. I lost my brother and her in the same night.”

I pressed a hand to my mouth, guilt burning hot and bitter in my chest. Ginny’s Selena had vanished, leaving them all to carry that grief alone.

Hermione’s voice was steadier. “We don’t know why she left, Ginny. There may be reasons you can’t see yet.”

“She should’ve trusted me with those reasons,” Ginny shot back. Then, softer, “She was like my sister.”

I backed away from the stairs, my heart pounding, shame curling tight around my ribs.

⸻

That night, I couldn’t sleep again. I tossed, I turned, I stared at the moonlight cutting pale lines across the floor. Hermione’s words kept circling in my mind, but it was Ginny’s voice that stayed sharpest: accusing, abandoned, broken.

I couldn’t shake the image of Other Selena walking away from all of them. Silent, unnoticed for a while.

By morning, the restless energy in me had boiled over. When Hermione stopped by again, I didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“I need details,” I said, sitting up straight on the bed.

She frowned. “Details?”

“About her. The other me. When exactly did she disappear? Did she come back here first? Did she say anything? Did she take anything with her?”

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. Her hesitation told me she wasn’t sure how much to give me.

“Please,” I pressed, “if I can’t go to the castle yet, at least let me do something useful here. Maybe I can piece together why she left.”

Finally, she sighed. “She disappeared the night of the battle. After they found Fred…” She stopped, and I nodded quickly to spare her from saying it aloud. “She was last seen with George. They were both devastated, as you can imagine. People thought she was just stepping out for air, but then… she never came back.”

My head tilted slightly, “Did she take anything?”

“No,” Hermione said quietly. “She just walked out of Hogwarts with the clothes on her back and vanished.”

I rubbed my hands over my face. The image was too vivid…someone who looked like me disappearing into the night, carrying nothing but grief.

“Do you think,” I asked slowly, “you could bring me her trunk?”

Hermione blinked. “Her trunk?”

“I just… I need to look through it. Maybe she left something behind. A clue about where she’d go. Maybe her childhood home, or somewhere she visited.”

Her brow furrowed, torn between caution and compassion. “This could be a bad idea.”

My voice was steadier than I felt. “If she’s out there, then maybe her things can tell me where.”

Hermione studied me for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll bring it in when everyone goes to bed.”

Relief surged through me, tinged with dread. Soon, I’d be trying to solve a riddle of a girl who looked just like me.

As Hermione left, I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling again.
If she’d left something behind, I was going to find it.

I had to.

Chapter Text

Hermione had brought Other Me’s trunk in around 1 in the morning.

It was heavy, scuffed from years of being dragged through train stations and corridors, and it still had a faded Gryffindor scarf tied to the handle. I hadn’t noticed these things the other night.

I sifted past stacks of books and folded robes, searching for more journals. This Hermione had also put an undetectable extension charm on her trunk, just as my Hermione had done for mine.

I pulled out a journal. Thicker than the one I read in Fred’s room. The pages were worn, some were slightly ripped.

I sat cross legged on the bed, bracing myself, then opened to the first entry I found.

-
“Fifth Year – October”

Fred asked me to Hogsmeade today. I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice when he said it, thinking he was joking. He wasn’t. And Merlin, the way George smirked when I said yes…I wanted to hex that look right off his face. But Fred smiled like I’d just given him the moon. I think I’ll remember that forever.

-

I pressed my hand to the page, smiled sadly. My Fred had asked me in almost the exact same way. It was uncanny, reading it in her slightly different handwriting, as if my memories had been spilled onto this parchment by someone else’s quill.

I flipped ahead.

⸻

“6th Year – Yule Ball”

I was nervous the whole evening, but Fred kept whispering ridiculous things in my ear to help ease my anxiety. He said he’d never seen me look so beautiful, and I told him he looked far too smug in dress robes. I think he liked that. We danced until our feet ached. I didn’t want the night to end.

⸻
There was a picture pasted to the page.
Her and Fred, smiling and waving to the camera. Same as mine back home, only her dress was orange instead of silver.

I could almost hear Fred’s laugh, feel the tug of his hand on mine. I slammed the journal shut, and laid it on my lap.

“This is insane,” I whispered into the quiet room. “It’s like we lived the same life.”

Still, I couldn’t stop myself. I opened it again, flipping to the section marked with a folded bit of parchment.

⸻

“Seventh Year – April”

Umbridge is unbearable. She’s ruined everything. Fred says we’re leaving Hogwarts behind. I’m scared, but he swears this is only the beginning of something bigger. He says we’ll build something together, something lasting, something that will make us proud. I believe him. I always believe him.

⸻

I let out a sad laugh. Even across worlds, Fred’s stubborn hope burned bright. He’d been right, too…they had built something lasting.

I skimmed a few more pages, until one near the back caught my eye.

⸻

“Late Spring – Seventh Year”

Fred took me to a little Muggle village near the forest, he’s calling this our “post school holiday”. It’s strange, quiet, but I like it. No one knows who we are there. We can breathe for a while, pretend the world isn’t falling apart. He says we’ll go back soon, but part of me wishes we could just stay.

⸻

I sat back, the journal slipping in my hands. The gears turning in my head:

A village. A hiding place.

Of course.

“Selena?” Hermione’s voice came from the door, hesitant. She must’ve seen the look on my face, because she closed the door softly and crossed to sit beside me. “What did you find?”

I tapped the page. “Here. She wrote about a Muggle village she and Fred went on holiday to. Close to Hogwarts. She said she wished she could stay there forever.”

Hermione leaned over, reading silently. Her lips pursed in thought.

“You think she went back there,” she said at last.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” My words tumbled out fast, desperate. “If she wanted to disappear, why not go somewhere that already felt safe? Somewhere nobody from the wizarding world would think to look for her?”

Hermione didn’t answer right away. She just watched me, calculating the options.

“I need to know which villages are near Hogwarts,” I said quickly. “All of them. I want to see if one matches what she described.”

Her brow furrowed. “You realize how many Muggle villages exist within a few miles of the castle? It’s not exactly a short list.”

“Then we’ll start narrowing it down,” I shot back. “Library records, maps, anything you can get. Please, Hermione. This could be something. Maybe even the answer.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the nightstand. Finally, Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like she always did when she’d lost an argument.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “We’ll start at the library. But you’ll have to be careful. The less attention you draw, the better. We’ll glamour you, just in case we run in to anyone in London.”

Relief washed through me so hard my hands shook. I closed the journal, hugging it to my chest.

At last, there was something to chase. Something besides waiting.

Chapter Text

The glamour charm itched. I’ve only ever used one a singular other time, for a prank. I hate the way it feels.

I tugged at the edge of my sleeve, glaring at the reflection Hermione had conjured in the small mirror by the Burrow’s back door. My hair, normally dark and wavy…was sleek and blonde now, tucked behind my ears. My freckles were gone, my eyes a cool blue instead of brown. Even my height seemed different, my posture straighter.

“I look like a stranger,” I muttered.

“That’s the point,” Hermione said crisply, adjusting the collar of my jacket. “Nobody will think twice about you this way.”

“But my voice…”

“…also disguised.” She flicked her wand, and when I spoke again, my words carried a softer, lilting tone I barely recognized as mine.

“Great. I sound like I should be hosting a tea party.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Would you rather risk running into someone who thinks you’re their Selena? Because I guarantee you, explaining that will be much harder than surviving a glamour charm.”

I sighed, zipping up my jacket. She wasn’t wrong.

⸻

The trip into town was easy. We used the Floo to a wizarding pub on the edge of London, then slipped into the Muggle streets without incident.

The Muggle library was smaller than I expected…nothing like the towering archives of Hogwarts…but it had its own charm. Rows of well-loved books lined neat wooden shelves, and the smell of paper lingered in the air.

Hermione’s eyes lit up instantly. I’d seen that look before…the look of a girl set loose in her favorite hunting ground.

“Alright,” she said, her voice brisk with purpose. “You check local records. Maps, census data, historical texts…anything that might list Muggle villages in that part of Scotland. I’ll see if they have anything on folklore or local myths.”

“Got it,” I said, and we split.

The records section was tucked away in the back, behind a squeaky door. It was less glamorous than I’d hoped: thin volumes of parish listings, dry town directories, and thick, water-stained atlases. But I dug through them anyway, flipping page after page until my eyes blurred.

And then…there it was.

A list of settlements in the Scottish Highlands. Many were familiar: Inverness, Fort William…but four caught my attention. Four tiny dots nestled in the hills, so small they weren’t marked on most of the maps I had looked at.

Cairnwell. St Cyrus. Stagmarsh. Kilwarren.

Each was close enough to the mountains, that Hogwarts could’ve been hidden not too far beyond.

I copied the names onto a scrap of paper, my heart racing. Four possibilities. Four places to search.

⸻

When I found Hermione again, she was perched at a long oak table, a ridiculous looking book in her lap.

“Myths and Legends: Magic! A Collection of Wonders for the Laughably Gullible.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me you’re not wasting time on a Muggle joke book.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Hermione admitted, though her eyes gleamed with what I can only assume is knowledge. “But listen to this…”She flipped the book open and began to read in a hushed tone:

‘Some say ancient mirrors, hidden in plain sight, can act as gateways. Step through, and you may find yourself in another land entirely. Of course, such tales are only meant for amusement…what sensible person would believe in walking through a mirror?’

“That’s… exactly what happened to me.”

“Exactly,” Hermione whispered, tapping the page. “I don’t think this is supposed to be a real folklore text, not in the scholarly sense. But the fact that Muggles are still telling these stories…still writing them down, suggests the tale survived somewhere. Maybe even as a distorted echo of actual magical events.”

“So… there are others.”

Hermione closed the book, her expression grave. “Possibly. Which means whatever pulled you through that mirror isn’t just a one off incident. It’s part of a much older web of magic.”

A shiver ran down my spine. The room suddenly felt colder, the air heavier.

“Great,” I muttered. “So not only am I trapped in the wrong world, but apparently I’ve stumbled into some ancient magical funhouse nobody really understands.”

Hermione didn’t argue. She didn’t have to.

We left the library just before sunset, my head buzzing with names and possibilities.

Four villages. One strange Muggle book. And the nagging realization that the more we dug, the more questions rose from the ashes.

As we walked back toward the Floo point, I clutched the scrap of paper tighter. If Other Me had run anywhere, it had to be one of those villages.

I just had to find out which one.

Chapter Text

The glamour charm still held strong as we stepped through the Burrow’s kitchen door. Hermione had given me the fake name Aubrey. It was easy to remember, nothing flashy.

The moment we entered, Ginny’s voice cut through the air. “Hermione! You’re back!” She bounded down from the stairs, grinning at Hermione. Her eyes flicked to me briefly, polite but not probing. “And you brought someone?”

“This is Aubrey,” Hermione said smoothly. “A friend helping me with…a project.”

Ginny smiled warmly and reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey.”

I forced a smile, gripping her hand quickly before pulling back. “You too.” My voice, still light and lilting from the charm, thank Merlin.

From the sitting room came another voice. “Oi, Gin, who’s here?” George emerged, his lanky frame filling the doorway. He carried a box of odds and ends…half-built joke shop contraptions, no doubt, and set it on the table.

His eyes flicked over me once, casual, then again, slower. “Evening,” he said, his tone friendly.

I gave a little nod, praying he wouldn’t look too closely.

The room fell into a nice rhythm quickly Ginny chattered on about Quidditch tryouts coming up, Hermione dropped hints about needing some quiet time for work, and George sat, quietly fiddling with one of his inventions. I sank into a corner chair, trying to act like “Aubrey”.

But then, without thinking, I shook my hands slightly. A little tick I did when I was anxious.

George froze mid twist of a gear. His eyes flicked to me again, narrowing slightly.

“You know…” he said slowly, voice casual but the edges prickling with something else, “…my brother’s girlfriend used to do that. All the time. Same exact way.”

My stomach dropped.

Ginny barely noticed, still babbling about broom models, but Hermione stiffened beside me.

I swallowed, forcing a laugh. “Guess it’s…just a common habit.”

George hummed, not convinced. His gaze lingered on me longer than it should have before he leaned back, smirking faintly, as if filing the thought away for later.

I barely lasted five more minutes before excusing myself, claiming I needed to get to work on the project. Hermione followed closely, slipping me back into Ron’s room with whispered reassurances.

But unease didn’t lift. He’d noticed.

⸻

Hours later, shadows stretched long across the floorboards, and the old house creaked as if alive. I’d just started drifting when a soft knock tapped at the door.

“Selena?”

My heart leapt into my throat.

I scrambled upright, trying to stay silent as the door cracked open, revealing George whose face was unusually serious.

“It’s me. Relax.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, settling on the edge of the bed.

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he just looked at me…really looked…taking in my face now that the glamour was gone.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, awe laced with disbelief. “I thought…Merlin, I thought I was seeing things earlier. But it’s you.”

Guilt pressed down on me. “I’m not your Selena,” I admitted softly. “Not the Selena you knew. I’m from somewhere else. A different universe…”

“Different universe?” he finished, one brow lifting.

I chuckled slightly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I know it sounds ridiculous but…I found this mirror at the Leaky and it…brought me here.” I said, shrugging slightly.

George tilted his head in thought, and paused for a beat. “Okay.” He said finally.

“You believe me??”

He gave a small, tired laugh. “After everything we’ve lived through? I’d be daft not to. Doesn’t mean it’s not mad, but…your eyes don’t lie. You’re not the same girl who vanished.”

I exhaled, relief flooding through me.

George walked farther into the room and dropped onto the bed beside me. “So…tell me. Your Fred?” He glanced sideways, eyes sharp but curious. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” I said quickly. The words came out choked, guilt clinging to every letter. “I fought with him right before I ended up here. That’s why I left for the Leaky. We argued, and then there was the mirror…and suddenly, I was in your world instead.”

George rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard. “Merlin’s beard.” A small grin tugged at his mouth despite the heaviness in his voice. “Figures. Even across universes, Fred Weasley can’t manage to keep a girl without something blowing up.”

I huffed a laugh despite myself, my chest aching. “From what I’m gathering, he’s the exact same there as he was here.”

George nodded slowly. “Good. I like knowing at least one version of him made it through.” His eyes softened, distant. “He deserved it.”

Silence hung between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I felt seen in a way I hadn’t since stepping through that cursed glass.

Then George tilted his head, a mischievous glint sparking. “So, tell me…am I alive in your world too, or did I nobly sacrifice myself saving Fred’s sorry arse?”

I laughed a little louder. “You’re alive. Still running the shop with him. Still tormenting Percy, from what I last saw.”

He slapped a hand to his chest, pretending to swoon. “Alive and successful? What a dream. Bet I’ve got a gorgeous girlfriend too, don’t I? Maybe Angelina finally gave in?”

“George..” I groaned, shoving his shoulder, though laughter slipped through again.

For the first time since crossing over, I felt the air lighten. It didn’t erase the ache, but it dulled the edges.

George’s grin softened. “You know, I miss her. Our Selena. She vanished so bloody fast I never got to say…anything, really. Seeing you now, it’s like seeing a ghost.” His voice cracked slightly, but he covered it with another smirk. “Just promise me you’re not planning to vanish in the middle of the night too, yeah? Bad habit of yours.”

“I don’t want to vanish,” I whispered. “I just want to go home.”

His hand rested briefly over mine, warm and grounding. “Then until you do, you’ve got me. But listen…if you’re going to keep glamouring up as Aubrey, you need help.”

“Help?”

“You’re rubbish at pretending,” he teased. “Selena…er well… you have these specific tells. You flex your hands when you’re anxious, you snort when you laugh, and you rub your arm gently to comfort yourself.”

“I do not snort,” I protested.

“You do,” he said firmly, grinning. “Aubrey doesn’t. So tomorrow? Lessons. We’ll make you a proper fake person. Can’t have Ginny or Harry catching on because you laugh the wrong way.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

He winked. “Yeah, well. You’re stuck with me. I’m right across the hall if you ever get bored, okay? I have plenty of items I want to sell that need a tester.” He gave me a wide grin, leaving a small firecracker on my desk before exiting the room.

I stared at the door after him, only for a moment. Then, in my calm, for the first time since arrive I was able to properly sleep.