Chapter Text
Amy woke slowly. Her head felt groggy and she had a slight headache. Turning over she reached out her hand automatically to turn on the backlight of her alarm clock before realising two things. The first was that it was light in the room. I must have forgotten to close the blackout curtains last night, was her first thought before the second thing permeated to her confused mind. She had no idea where she was. The bed was unfamiliar, the room was unfamiliar, and — was that someone singing (badly) in the shower?
Sitting up, Amy put her hand to her her head to try and clear her thoughts before realising the most amazing thing. It wasn't her body, either. Her chest hadn't been that flat in a very long time. So long that she couldn't remember when she last fit into what appeared to be a B-cup. And there was no scar down her front either. Too confused to be worried, she dragged herself up out of bed and looked in the mirror. Well. It wasn't her current body, but it wasn't completely unknown either. She stared, astonished, as her 17-year-old self stared back at herself.
Sitting heavily back on the bed she tried to take stock. She decided she must be in a hotel room. There were two beds, and the other had also obviously been slept in. That must be whoever is singing in the shower, she thought. I suppose I'll find out who they are... her thought broke off, when she saw the bra and panties lying on the bed. who she is she corrected herself when she gets out of the shower. She winced again at a particularly high and piercing note. I hope she's nicer than her voice, she thought absently.
Noticing how blurry everything was, she decided her first move would have to be to find her glasses. Did I wear glasses back then? she tried to remember, Or would it have been contacts? On her bedside table was something that looked only vaguely familiar. She picked up the glasses and stared, horrified. The frames were large and heavy. "Oh god," she whispered, "I remember these. Do I have to wear them?" But there appeared to be nothing else to do. If she wanted to see, she was going to have to wear the hideous things. Sighing, she placed them on her face and looked around.
On the bedside table was an old-fashioned looking camera. "Film!" she muttered to herself. She picked up the package marked 110. "And it's not even 35mm!" She looked at it curiously. Before her eyes fell on what looked like a journal. Grabbing it up eagerly she started to read: I'm too excited to sleep. I can't believe I'm here in London.
"London!" Amy's startled exclamation broke the sudden silence of the room. It would appear her roommate had finished her shower. Jumping up from the bed, Amy crossed the window and looked out on a busy street. Sure enough, the cars directly under her were travelling left. Whereas the cars across the street were driving towards her right. She watched the traffic for only a moment, before a sudden realisation came to her. "London..." she mused and went over to the bureau. As she had begun to expect, she saw information packets with the barely familiar name International Studies on them. Stopping to think, she said to herself, "Right after High School. Nineteen Eighty?"
Remembering the journal she still held, she sat down in a daze and continued to read: I can't believe I'm here in London. My roommate seems nice enough. "Yes, but what's her name!" Amy muttered to herself. And then: "I can't believe how bad my handwriting was." She laughed to herself, "Of course, I never write anything longhand now. It probably still is." Continuing, she read: The older man next to me on the Aeroplane... Amy laughed. I wonder what I considered 'older', she thought. He could have been anywhere from thirty to ninety.
Tossing the Journal aside she sat back with a sigh. It didn't seem likely that she'd discover anything from the Journal. After all, why would I have written down useful things like names, she thought with a sigh. Sitting back up with a jerk, she started to paw through the documents on the bureau. "Wouldn't there be a roster or something here?" she asked herself.
Before she could find anything though, the door to the bathroom opened with a crash. "Hello, sleepy-head!" an unfamiliar voice cried out. "I'm glad you're up! We have to be downstairs for breakfast in fifteen minutes!"
Okay, her speaking voice isn't any less shrill, Amy thought to herself with an internal wince. "Um, good morning," she stuttered. "I guess I'd better take a shower, then." Walking quickly towards the bathroom, she said hurriedly, "Why don't you go on ahead as soon as you're ready. I'll catch up to you." She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
"Oh!" The voice squealed loudly through the door. "I can't do that! We're supposed to stick together!"
Amy closed her eyes and dropped her head back with a thunk. "All right then. Just give me a minute," she called out. Taking a second to think with frustration that it was going to be hell being seventeen again, she stripped off the t-shirt she'd obviously slept in, took the hideous glasses off again, and took a quick shower. She couldn't help but take the time, however, to inspect her body as she showered. It must weigh a hundred pounds less than when she went to bed the night before. Well. The century before. After? Confused, she stopped thinking about it.
Wrapping the inadequate towel around herself, she walked back out into the main hotel room, hoping that she'd be able to remember which were her own clothes. She stopped dead when she spotted a man and a woman in long black robes standing there. Proud of herself for not squealing in fright, she stared at them in shock. "Who are you?" she asked finally. "I definitely don't remember you two." Looking around she demanded, "And what have you done with my roommate?"
The woman glanced at her companion for a second before saying, "Good morning, Mary Sue."
Amy broke in. "Amy, my name is Amy."
The man looked at the woman in sudden concern and brought out a long wand which he waved in a complicated pattern at Amy, who jumped back in alarm. "This is definitely the right one," he said.
"The right one, what?" demanded Amy. "And what is that you're pointing at me? And what happened to my roommate?"
The woman stepped forward and said, "Your roommate went down to breakfast".
Amy took too hasty a step back from her and tripped over shoes half hidden under the bed. Falling awkwardly to the floor she took hold of the slipping towel and frowned at the pair in front of her. "She said she wasn't going to leave without me!"
The man smiled fleetingly. "We persuaded her otherwise," he said.
Amy scowled. "What did you do to her?"
The woman stepped forward with her hand out, obviously intending to help Amy up, but she scrambled to her feet on her own. "Just a minor memory charm," the woman said. "It won't hurt her."
Amy sat down on the bed heavily, clutching at her towel. "A memory charm," she repeated stupidly. "What the hell?" She looked back and forth between the couple in front of her and frowned. "Are you pretending to be wizards, or something?"
The woman smiled. "Well, I'm a witch, actually, and we're not pretending. But, that's the general idea."
Amy snorted. "Right. Pull the other one." Looking down at her towel she said, "I'm not really dressed for a conversation with a bunch of witches. How about if you come back later?" Getting up she gestured towards the door. She didn't actually have much hope that she could get them to leave so easily, but it was worth a try.
The witch shook her head. "I'm afraid we don't have enough time to come back later. We need to take you with us now. But we'll wait for you to put some clothes on."
"Take me where?"
The wizard answered. "To Hogwarts, of course. Where else?"