Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine.

Summary: I died 2013, reborn into 1927. Not only that, but also straight into Harry Potter-fictional-London. And god forbid that I am allowed to live a normal life when I'm born into a magical world. No thanks to all the luck of the world, I end up in front of the young and growing Tom Marvolo Riddle, Dark Lord-to-be. Let me tell you, it's not fun.

Time is a funny thing. It doesn't just go straight, it also goes sideways, backwards and loops over. The last one, especially, I can personally attest to.

I died May 26th, 2013 during a trip to London England.

I was reborn on May 26, 1927 in the same streets of London, England with all my memories intact.

I didn't remember much of what happened the first few years when I was reborn, just bits and pieces. I wasn't fond of the period I was reincarnated in, that was a fact. London was barely picking up from the lasting effects of World War I and I knew that it was not long before World War II struck and all would go to chaos again. It was a funny thing, knowing the future before it happened. It was slightly disturbing too, but I chose not to dwell on that aspect.

Papa was a retired soldier from the war. His once beautiful black hair was beginning to grey but the twinkle in his warm dark brown eyes always made him look younger than he was. He was a kind man and tried all he could to make the best for our small family. Mama was the daughter of a baker and had a wicked way with her bread. Quite literally. I remembered for my second birthday, she brought to the table a rainbow colored cake, with two flickering candles on top. I could have sworn the cake sung to me, but I later realized that it was mama's voice and then remembered that cakes didn't sing. Mama was a beautiful woman, the siren of the street with a melodic voice. She had the the aristocratic features of a noble, the elegant silver blonde hair and bright ice blue eyes that stole the heart of anyone who glanced at them. She died of premature childbirth when I was three, leaving in my arms my preterm baby brother.

He was a tiny thing, pink all over with his skin all wrinkly. His entire tiny little body rested perfectly in papa's big and calloused hands. Papa told me later than he was called Liam Brian, named after my maternal grandfather; just like how I was named Aisling Kristen after my maternal grandmother.

Papa alone could only barely support the entire family financially since both Liam and I were growing children. Participating in WWI had taken a toll on papa and he could not work much. He supported us so far by helping my unmarried uncle at the old bakery where mama and grandpa used to work but the little money was hardly enough, especially since Liam was still a needy, two year old baby.

When I turned five, I told papa I was going to school but that was half a lie. Papa didn't know, couldn't know that I already knew more than what they could have taught me in school. He thought I was a smart kid, bright for my age, but he had no idea the extent of my knowledge and intelligence.

I went to school only for the minimum days in order to fulfill the minimum attendance - which was not enforced as hard during the days. The rest of the time, I had been working to help raise whatever little money I could for our family. I let my hair grow longer and carried myself a little straighter. It made me look more mature and I could easily pass off as a less developed eight year old.

Once papa left for work, the nice old woman Mrs Jenkin would come over and help take care of Liam. I would accept her packed sandwiches and then head off to the streets. Mrs Jenkin knew I wasn't going to school, but she promised not to tell papa.

Liam on the other hand, didn't know anything and it hurt me to lie to him every morning the way I lied to papa except Liam knew even less. "Is school fun, sis?" Liam would ask as we sat together on the table.

"It's fun, Liam, of course it is," I replied, ignoring the tightening of my chest, "you meet a lot of people and friends, and your teachers will teach you all kinds of interesting things."

"I can't wait till I go to school too! I want to be smart like sis." And he would flash me the brightest of smiles.

I would smile guiltily, ignoring the knowing look from Mrs Jenkin and the way my hand shook slightly as I reached out to pet Liam on the head. "You listen to Mrs Jenkin and be a good kid, alright?"

Liam nods and I take my hand back. I share a look with Mrs Jenkin and the old woman nods slightly in return.

"Come home soon, sis!"

I tried my best to smile as I closed the door behind me.

The socio-economic depression didn't make it easier on anyone. Jobs were hard to come along, especially given my age and my gender. I took whatever chance I could for beggars could not be choosers. I worked at cotton mills or fabric factories that were quite a distance away for a while. But I was lucky because I found a rich family who would hire me. The Carters lived at the edge of town in a large mansion with a particularly big garden that they didn't tend to and would pay high sums for anyone to help them take care of their flora and fauna. I visited them once every two to three days to take care of their garden.

I didn't know why they decided to hire me - I was hardly the most promising candidate in what must be a crowd of over fifty people. But they chose me and I thanked the stars.

They were very nice people and tipped generously, sometimes in cookies and other times in cash. The mistress in particular, Diane Carter I believe she was called, favoured me heavily. She would invite me for tea - even while I was working - and would often offer me gifts, all of which I had turned down politely. What was I to do with fancy dresses and ornaments? I couldn't even sell them for people would think I was thieving nor would they offer a good price for them anyways.

They had a son who liked to bother me when I went over there to work. He was two years older than my real age, he was seven, and his name was Richard. I didn't like him much, he was all talk and no walk with a very large ego.

But he was a kid, so I humored him.

He bragged to me about all sorts of things that his family had like balls that would fly around on their own or a clock that would sing you the time when you asked. However, when I asked him to show me, he would say that he's not allowed to do so.

"It's true, Aisling. My dad has a candle that never never goes out! The wick is on fire all the time and the wax never runs out!" Richard insisted as I reached down to pluck out the newly grown weeds. "I asked dad if I could show you but he said no!"

"That's great, Richard," I said dismissively, shaking my head at the amount of weeds there were. I could swear I had only just plucked them a few days ago, there was no way they could grow this quickly.

"I'm serious, Aisling! And then there's this cabinet my dad has! I had to hide this yo-yo that mum bought me since dad wasn't supposed to know so I shoved it in there. But when I checked again, my yo-yo was gone!"

"Sure, Richard."

"It's true, Aisling! If you believe me, I'll give you a cookie. I'll ask Marietta, she doesn't mind." Richard said, a confident grin on his face.

"Absolutely, Richard. You have me all convinced." I was being sarcastic, but Richard didn't seem to notice.

"Brilliant! I'll go ask Marietta to get you a cookie before you go today."

I nodded tiredly as Richard bounced back towards the main house.

See, what did I say? Just a kid.

When Liam turned five, he started school. Papa wanted to enroll Liam in the same school that I was supposedly going to, but we found a school that was closer to the house and decided to send Liam there instead. Liam threw a small tantrum when he found out because he wanted to go to the same school as me but we calmed him down and eventually he agreed. Liam was a good kid.

It was nice period of time for our family - the calm before the storm. I would return home first, before Liam or papa and I would prepare a snack for when Liam came home. The five year old boy would burst open through the door and bound over to me, talking about his day at school - the friends he made, the games he played and the things he learned. And then we would sit down and I would help him with his homework and perhaps a little bit more.

It was a year into Liam's schooling when papa had been called into school about me. I had always skipped a lot of school, without papa's knowledge, but never enough that it raises suspicion and questions - because the school didn't want to care about it as long as it wasn't too serious. I was careless. I was preoccupied with the increase expenses at home and I missed a few days too many. So the school informed papa and that didn't sit well with papa. When I got home that day, papa was not at the bakery as he should but sitting at the dining table with a glass of whiskey in his hands.

Papa didn't drink much, perhaps a glass once in awhile at night after dinner. When I walked up to the table to clear up the empty plates, the bottle was almost empty and I knew something was wrong. The last time papa had drank that much was on the day Liam was born, on the day mama had died.

"Ash, how long were you going to lie to me?" Papa asked, setting down the now empty glass and brushing a hand through his unruly hair. In the past two years, the wrinkles on his forehead became more apparent and his age had begun to show.

"Papa?"

"Aisling Kristen Selwyn." I flinched. Papa hardly ever called me by my first name, much less by my full name. I turned around hesitantly, not daring to make eye contact with papa. "Why didn't you tell me? How long have you been lying to me? Don't try to deny, I asked Mrs Jenkins next door. Since when have you been working, Aisling?"

"I…"

Papa buried his face in his hands.

"Papa…"

"I'm sorry, Eleanor. I'm a terrible husband and a terrible father," Papa shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Aisling, Liam."

"Papa, that's not true. What's wrong?"

I was worried as papa stood up from the table. He was wobbly on his feet after having too many drinks. His face was flushed red and he had a dreamy, detached look on him.

"I'm sorry, I'll go fix it now. I can fix it. I won't run away anymore. It's time we go back."

"Go back? Papa where are we going? It's fine, papa, I don't mind all this, let's not go anywhere, papa." I didn't like the hollow feeling in my chest, the unreasonable fear that I was feeling.

But papa wasn't listening to me. He staggered his way, step by step, heading to the front door. Something at the back of my mind told me that I had to stop him. But what could I do? I was a weak, tiny little nine year old girl and he was a war veteran.

"Papa, no!"

I felt something tugged against my empty hands and then there was a loud, ominous thud.

And then I screamed.

Alistair Leroy Selwyn, my papa, died that night. The people said that he had been drunk and had tripped, landing against the corner of the table, knocking his temple and dying because of the resulting critical head trauma.

That was the first time I had exhibited accidental magic, albeit unknowingly, and the first time I killed someone.

The issue was sorted out quickly, labelled as a tragic accident. Our uncle had refused to take in Liam and I since he didn't have the ability to raise us and with no other registered relatives, we were sent to an orphanage.

Wool's orphanage was an old orphanage, fairly run down and rather packed with kids, but it was the only orphanage that would accept both Liam and me.

Mrs Cole was nice when she came to pick up the two of us. She gave us candy and I gave mine to Liam. On the way, she explained some basic rules of the orphanage like chores and duties, along with a few required classes that we had to take.

When we got there, she gathered up the children and introduced them to Liam and me one by one. They were all commonplace names that didn't seem out of place but they stuck out at me for reasons I couldn't understand. Amy Benson...Dennis Bishop... Billy Stubbs... Eric Whalley...

And then we got to the last boy. He stood slightly further from the rest of the kids and seemed uncaring of his surroundings, aloof. The other kids didn't seem to like him much and I saw them sneering at the boy every now and then.

I couldn't see why. The boy was pretty, and by that I meant very pretty, the type of face that children loved to be friends with. As long as he wasn't too mean there was no reason why the other children would hate him that much.

The boy turned to look at Liam, then at me. He was staring straight at me when he said his name.

"My name is Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

My blood ran cold. That was the first time I suspected - no, knew - that my second life was not all that it seemed.

Edit 05/07/16: Modified a few minor details about Aisling's schooling and working before Alistair's death to make them a bit more realistic to the period of time. Thanks to anon review for pointing it out.