Chapter One:

It all started out as a fairly normal day, although I suppose all days due - it is the events that make them extraordinary or peculiar. I was walking to my next class, the weather was a little gloomy, and I had my head buried in a book. I had my chemistry final in my next class so I was getting some much needed last minute cramming in while I was walking there. I was pretty good at Chemistry, but the formulas were complex, so studying never hurt anyone. Well, I say that, but I was distracted so I didn't hear the warning shout, the tires squealing. I remember hearing someone screaming and I remember choking on my own blood. My lower body was completely numb but I had this agonizing pain in my lower abdomen, and as I looked down, I saw it was because the car was pinning me to the side of a building on the street I had been walking on. My head was pounding from the loud noises and from where my head had hit on impact. It was the least of my worries at the time but I wanted to tell the woman who just kept wailing and screaming to shut the hell up. I opened my mouth, trying to say something, and couldn't because of all the blood. There was so much blood, and the world was hazy around the edges, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I heard sirens in the background, but I closed my eyes and let out a relieved sigh mentally when the screaming finally stopped.

The next thing I remember was waking up, my eyes blinking the sleep out of them, and observing what was obviously a hospital room around me. I was in a sem-comfortable bed with starch white sheets, the walls were a normal beige looking color, and there was one chair next to my bed. There was a table with a full glass of water and one door out of the room, the only other exit being a window that showed a sunny day outside. My head was hurting still a little bit but not nearly as much as it was; In fact, besides this weird sensation in my body, I felt great considering I had just been hit and pinned to a building by a car. I was also relieved because I honestly thought I had died; I had the weirdest dream about this boy and his family, growing up with them, being taught magic by the mother figure, using a wand. It wasn't the first time I have had a Harry Potter related dream though, so I dismissed it as a particularly vivid one, and continued looking around the room. It was an odd hospital room, to be sure, because there was not a television, I wasn't connected to any machines, and the only light came from a couple of fixtures on the wall which I could have sworn had actual flames in them, like they used to use in old times.

'What kind of hospital is this?' I wondered to myself, just as someone knocked on my door before letting themselves in. If I was confused before, it did not come close to how confused I became when I saw the woman who had entered my room. She was dressed in light blue robes, some kind of identification card clipped on the front, and had pants paired with a dress shirt on underneath. The woman had mousy, brown hair and looked exhausted; She was muttering under her breath so lowly that I couldn't hear and when her eyes finally rose to meet mine, she was obviously startled to see me sitting up in bed watching her.

"You're up!" The woman said with a British accent, and I shockingly nodded in response, because at the same time as she spoke up she had taken a piece of wood out of her pocket and was waving it towards me. "I just need to do a few diagnostic spells and then your medi-wizard will be in to see you. I'm only his student. Oh! How rude of me, my name is Beatrice, by the way. How are you feeling?"

I just stared at her, watching in a detached way as the clipboard hovered beside her now and a pen was writing things down. My first thought was that this had to still be a dream, but I had read somewhere that if you count your fingers in a dream you will never have ten; looking down at my own hands, which seemed smaller than they usually were and oddly colored, I counted ten digits. The next idea was that this was some kind of joke, but I didn't know anyone who would go to these kind of lengths in order to prank me. My family was small, polite, and even though we loved each other a lot, we didn't see one another much either. What was going on?

"Are you okay?" Beatrice asked me unsurely, an odd look on her face that was a mix of concern and pity. I stared at her unblinkingly, not sure what I should even say, and so I just kind of shook my head. She frowned, moving a little closer to the bed, and patted my leg. "I'm sorry dear, the Medi-wizard will explain everything when he gets here. I'm going to go tell him you're awake now, okay?"

I nodded dumbly, going over what she said in my head, and felt my confusion begin to turn to a mix of excitement and dread when she said medi-wizard. I tried to organize my thoughts and come up with a reasonable explanation for what was happening right now, but my head just kept going in circles. I couldn't wrap my head around this and my headache was getting worse the more I thought about it. I gripped the sheets with my hands, twisting them a little nervously and as something to occupy my hands with, and then glanced down. I froze, the hands following suit, and brought them closer to my eyes in order to inspect them. My hands.. They were smaller than I remembered them being. My wrists were thinner, my fingers just as long, and my skin in general was more olive colored than the deep tan I was used too. I turned my hands around to continue my examination, but there was another knock on my door and a middle aged man walked in this time. He had dark brown hair, bags under his eyes, but a small smile on his face. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled and I relaxed a little bit but not by much in the hope that maybe I could actually get some answers now that he was here.

"Hello, Jasper, my name is David Kerby, I'm the medi-wizard who was assigned your case when they brought you in." The man, David, said gently with a friendly smile as he approached the bed. I blinked at him, not saying a word, because Jasper wasn't my name. My name is.. Wait.. my name. My name is.. I couldn't remember my name. Why couldn't I remember my name? "Do you know what happened, Jasper?"

"I-" I choked, my breathing coming in a little uneven as panic set in. I know my name isn't Jasper, but I couldn't remember what it actually was. I shook my head at David, and his eyes lowered briefly before coming back up to meet my own wide ones.

"You were attacked by other wizards." David said gravely, his face warping into one of disgust, sympathy, and what looked like anger. "It's normal for someone who has gone through this kind of trauma to not remember anything."

"M-my family?" I asked shakily, trying to contain my emotions.

David shook his head, the look of sympathy overtaking all of the other emotions on his face "I'm sorry, Jasper, but you were the only survivor. They found you unconscious clutching your wand, it appeared as though they had tortured you before they left you to die in the fire they started. Auror's who arrived at the scene found your body and saved you before you could succumb to your wounds, but your parents were not as fortunate. I am truly sorry for your loss. I can't imagine.."

I took in a deep, uneven, rattling breath. My family was dead, but was it actually my family? There weren't wizard's, none of this was real. He said I was clutching a wand but I have never had a wand. I couldn't think with my head pounding like this, I was beginning to feel light headed, and I vaguely noted that my hands were shaking from where they were laying on my legs. I had a terrible thought just then, and trying to get my bearings, I shakily asked David for a mirror. He gave me a strange look, but conjured one none the less, and handed it to me so that I could inspect myself.

Hands still shaking, I brought the mirror up to eye level and stared at the face reflected back at me. My face was more angular than it had been before, my skin the same olive tone that was on my hands, and my hair was a darker, golden blonde that was slightly messy from my bed head. My eyes were a dark, royal blue that were blinking owlishly back at myself instead of the normal brown that I was used too. I tentatively brought a finger to my face, touching it as though to confirm it was real and that the foreign face staring into the mirror was indeed my own, and when I felt the smooth skin underneath my pointer finger I began to hyperventilate. The mirror dropped and David flew into action, waving his wand over me and murmuring some latin words over my body that I couldn't hear over the pounding blood in my ears. A woman rushed into the room, her shape blurred by the moisture gather in my eyes involuntarily, and handed David some kind of liquid in a bottle. He was saying something to me but I couldn't hear what it was; he gripped my jaw and tilted my head up, pouring some of the liquid in my mouth and shutting it afterwards. Reflexively, I swallowed, and the next thing I knew I was falling to sleep.

I saw in my dream as a little boy who had a face that looked like a younger version of the one that I had seen in the mirror ran up to his parents happily, letting his Dad swing him around before placing him gently on the ground. He pulled out a wand from his pocket and told his Dad what he and his Mom had worked on today, then with a swish and flick, demonstrated the levitation charm his mother had taught him. His father looked on as his son made one of the chairs by the kitchen table lift off the ground, hovering in the air for a few moments, before with another flick of his wand the chair landed back on the floor. His father looked on with a proud smile, congratulating his son on the good work, and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The scene faded out, and now the boy was a few years older, sitting at a table with a cauldron in front of him. He was flipping through a book furiously, looking at the cauldron every few moments, and then back down to the book in his hands. There were ingredients spread out all over the table and the boy sighed, letting his head thud on the table for a moment. His Mom walked into the room, giggling quietly at her son's defeated posture, before casually coming up behind him and saying something. The boy lifted his head immediately, a pleading look on his face as he said something to his Mom, and then gave her his most pitiable look. His mother rolled her eyes, saying something that caused his shoulders to slump, before smirking a little to herself and saying something else as well. The boy's face lightened instantly, flipping to the back of the book for a moment before confidently grabbing one of the ingredients off of the table and throwing it into the cauldron. His Mom ruffled his hair fondly, congratulating her son, who grinned up at her with love obvious in his eyes.

I woke up a couple of times over the next couple of days, my thoughts disorganized and befuddled, but the first time I woke up for an extended time it appeared to be in the middle of the night, maybe very early in the morning. I breathed in and out, trying to relax as I sorted out all of the information my brain had been processing while I was asleep. I had learned a few things; well, I guess it was more accurate to say I learned a lifetime worth of things. I had Jasper's, which were now my own, memories. The time he had spent with his parents, when he had been homeschooled by his mother and playing Chess with his father. Growing up in Britain, a happy childhood that had slowly gotten more and more tense the older he got. There was a war brewing, Kaiser didn't know much about it besides what he read in the newspapers he could get his hands on and from hushed conversations between his parents. It was May of 1976, I knew, which meant that I was sixteen years old. More importantly, to me at least, that meant that this was the time of the first war with Voldemort.

It took me hours to go through the memories and to wrap my head around everything, and in that time I came to know few things for certain. First, somehow, I had been reincarnated into the body of a young wizard in the world of Harry Potter. I wasn't sure how I felt about that; I tried not to think on it too long, but my best guess was that the real Jasper had died and my soul was put into his body for some unknown reason. It made me uncomfortable, to think that I had taken over another person's life and had access to their memories. It also meant that I had no way of going back to where I had come from - no way of seeing my Mom, my Dad, or my sister ever again. When I realized that I had most likely died in my previous life, I'm not sure if I could call it a past life when technically it was a later time in another universe without magic, but the more I thought about it the more depressed I felt and the more my head began to hurt again. There were quite a few tears, but I think they had given me a calming draught because I wasn't freaking out nearly as much as I think I should have been.

The next thing I realized was that because I had access to Jasper's (my) memories, I had access to all of the things that his (my) parents had taught me. Already, the lines between his life and my own were blurring and hard to distinguish, so I resigned myself to thinking of both time's as mine. My mother here was an excellent witch and had taught me a lot in the years I had been homeschooled; she had drilled into me all of the courses I could remember were major in Harry Potter. DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, History, and even Arithmancy. With the memories came knowledge about myself that was ingrained - I knew my best subject was Defense, my worst was Transfiguration. I hated kale, spinach, and pineapples. I took my O.W.L.'s a couple of months ahead but have not gotten the results back yet, If I was at Hogwarts I would be going into my Sixth year at the start of term.

My parents had never really told me outright why I was home schooled instead of going to Hogwarts, it was something they kept saying they would tell me when I was older. I remember a young Jasper wanting to go desperately when the letter came, but his parents had politely declined and set up the home schooling program right afterwards. I knew my parents were pureblood but didn't buy into all of the negative propaganda about muggle borns and muggles. I had a sneaking suspicion that Voldemort had tried to recruit them and they had refused; I was pretty sure Voldemort did not take rejection very well, which resulted in the Death Eater's attacking our house. I only remember bits and pieces of that night; nothing concrete and I would honestly be alright if I never remembered at all. There was a lot of loud noises, screaming, and a lot of pain. I was pretty sure I had tried to fight against them but was quickly disarmed and tortured.

After I sorted through the memories and came to terms with my situation the best that I could, which also meant I was compartmentalizing and repressing like crazy, I decided I would need a plan of action moving forward. Obviously, I was now an orphan, and I still needed to finish my education if I had even a small shred of hope in learning how to defend myself. I was hesitant though because I wasn't sure I wanted to go to Hogwarts. Was I sent here to change the way the future played out? I knew how dangerous messing with time could be, so what if one action I do actually causes hundred's more to die than was ever meant too? It was something I could way to settle, at least, because the nearest event that I really knew about and would have any power over was the night Lily and James Potter would die. I could just use the time that Voldemort is gone to go and destroy all of the Horcruxes I knew about, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure I could do it alone, which just brought me back to the point that I needed to finish my education.

I made up my mind that I would need to ask for Dumbledore, to be able to gain admittance into Hogwarts, so I would need to ask whoever came into my room as the day grew later to fetch him or notify him I wanted to speak with him. Flipping through some of the memories from my previous life, going over facts I knew about Dumbledore, I realized I would definitely need to work on my Occlumency skills before I spoke with him. My Mom had worked with me on it, but I needed to meditate it and ensure I could stop him from reading my thoughts. It would not do for him to know all of the information I did, even though it would be just like him to allow everything to go exactly as he wanted for 'The Greater Good'.

I resigned myself to going over my mental defences the way that Jasper's mom had taught him and then I would just have to make up the rest as I went along. It wasn't the best strategy, okay in all honesty it wasn't a strategy at all, but I just didn't know enough at this point. So, with that decided and just as the sun began to peek in through the window in my hospital room, I began constructing mental fortifications as strong as the walls of Hogwarts. At least, they would be in my head; hopefully, with any luck, Dumbledore didn't have a wrecking ball to get through them.

A/N: So, as some of you can see if you have followed/favorited this story, I had decided to rewrite this as a self insert. Something about the old story, something about Kaiser, just wasn't clicking for me - I've spent a lot of time writing in the Naruto universe lately, and I needed a change of pace for my own sanity, so I decided to start from scratch with this story about a SI OC in the Marauders Era. Hopefully, you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it - and hopefully, you will give me some feedback as well.

Much love,

~Rache