Chapter Text
1966
Daisy Heather Evans, born July 31st 1962, doesn't remember her past life. But, she also doesn't not remember her past life. She knows there was one. Sometimes, she recalls a memory that hasn't happened to her, or knows something she was supposed to hear about for the first time just then, or doesn't react when someone calls her Daisy because she thinks for a moment her name is Harriet.
She is fairly certain those are signs of a past life. She hasn't talked about it with her parents - they think she's too small to know what she's talking about ("No! That's enough! She's just a girl, you say much more and you might as well induct her into the Order straight away.") - no, instead she sneaked away when her family was in the library and read a book about it. That's right! She can read already. Petunia has been teaching her but for Daisy it felt like she was just refreshing a skill gained a long time ago.
There wasn't much interesting information in the book - truthfully, it was probably just a lot of rubbish. That didn't matter though. It was all she needed, because somewhere deep down, she knew she was someone's reincarnation.
Once, she read about different meanings of flowers. The first book only said that daisy meant innocence and purity, and heather meant good luck, admiration, and protection. The second book was a bit more thorough, though. It mentioned that daisy also symbolized childbirth, motherhood, new beginnings and finally, rebirth. Ironic, isn't it?
(While she was at it, she also looked up her sisters' names - Petunia Marigold and Lily Jasmine. Who in their right mind would name their child Petunia?! Okay, her parents liked flowers, she got it - five out of those names were perfectly normal and usual, with nice, flattering flower meanings. But why, why on earth would they name her eldest sister Petunia? Resentment and anger? Really? Granted, it could also mean soothing nature, but otherwise it just screamed 'hateful woman'.
She ignored the 'extra' memories of cold nights locked in a cupboard. Of colder words and glares. Of hunger and bullying cousins. Of jealousy and craving for affection. She wouldn't let it happen.)
She didn't want to acknowledge that her past life was in the future, though. Because. Because that would mean... Because that would mean she knew the future. (That would mean Lily will die in just fifteen years. That she will become an orphan.) No one is supposed to know the future. ("Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time.")
But what could she do? She was pretty sure that in her past life, Lily Potter née Evans had only one sister. ("I was the only one to see her for what she was. A freak!") She was changing the past fut prese- timeline just by being born. There was no way around it and just thinking about it gave her a headache.
Four-year-olds weren't supposed to think about war, death, rebirth or broken timelines. Then again, she never acted like other kids her age. She was more mature. That's, of course, to be expected of someone who remembers fighting in a war, no matter how unclear the memories were.
Then, there was the fact that she would always wash the dishes, without being asked to do so, as well as do some of the other chores she could manage. She didn't do it every day. But it felt kind of automatic - to wake up, make breakfast for everyone, wash the dishes. When she saw something that needed to be done, she would stop everything she was doing and did it.
Logically, she knew that she didn't have to, but. Her memories from the cupboard under the stairs were more vivid than the rest. More lifelike than memories of war, and sometimes, they even seemed more real than her current memories. She didn't have many, but it was enough.
At least she could separate her sister Petunia and her former aunt. The two didn't have much in common. Sure, Petunia could be annoying, jealous and a prat, but she cared about her family. And Daisy would make sure that she never stopped, that she would never grow up to hate her sister. She didn't remember just now what made Petunia hate Lily but that wouldn't stop her.
Daisy Heather Evans, born July 31st 1962, doesn't remember her past life. But she will make do with what she does remember.
1967
The moment Daisy first sees Severus Snape, she knows him. She recalls the hatred, the sneers, the insults. She also recalls the emotionless eyes, the courage, the regret. And then, she makes another decision. Petunia hated Lily, Snape hated James. If she was going to make an effort for one of them, she was going to make the same effort for both of them.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Snape said, after he jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and jumped a foot in the air, but Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was. Daisy just tilted her head curiously but smiled a little. She was now trying to act like a five-year-old, even though she was not a good actress. No one had noticed she had changed, so she was contemplating dropping it. It was tiring.
"What's obvious?" asked Lily.
Snape looked a lot nervous, but nevertheless excited. "I know what you are."
"What do you mean?"
"You're...you're a witch," whispered Snape Severus. Maybe she should start calling him Severus.
Lily looked insulted. Daisy had to think about that for a moment before she remembered that Lily still didn't know. She had always thought of Lily as a witch and of Petunia as a muggle. But currently, Lily didn't know anything about that.
"That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!" huffed Lily.
Severus looked like he was panicking, but before he could defend himself, Daisy jumped in: "He doesn't mean it as an insult. That's what people with magic are called, right?"
Severus looked at Daisy, a little confused but mostly relieved, and nodded. Lily, on the other hand, was observing her sister with curiosity. Petunia was also curious, though she was better at hiding it, but mostly she was scowling.
"What do you mean?" Lily questioned Daisy. Daisy was glad that Lily was taking her opinions seriously. Her parents were not inclined to listen to a five year old girl, and Petunia, as she was eleven, was starting to dismiss her as well. It was puberty.
"Well, you have magic, obviously. And you can't be the only one, right? He does too, otherwise he wouldn't have said anything. He's a wizard!"
And, okay, Daisy knew that she sounded way too smart, but honestly? She didn't care. Snape had to take at least minimal interest in her so she could become his friend. And she couldn't do that if he thought she was a normal muggle. But, she couldn't tell them she was a witch, because as a muggle, she had a better chance at reaching out to Petunia. So, she had to be an interesting muggle.
"There's a school for people with magic, otherwise they wouldn't know how to use it. And there must be families where everyone has magic, because magic has to be hereditary. How would children feel if they knew their parents could do magic and they couldn't?"
Daisy's "hypothesis" didn't have much real evidence to stand on, but when said with as much conviction as she had and presented to two seven year old children, it should sound logical.
...When had she started to sound like a condescending adult, again?
When Daisy finds Petunia later that day, she's sulking. She's sitting on her bed, with her legs pressed against her chest, hugging her knees, looking like she's going to cry.
It breaks her heart.
It clicked for her a while ago that the future rift between Petunia and Lily was because of magic, but she needed to come up with something to say before she attempted to talk to Petunia about it.
Today, though, Petunia had to acknowledge the magic. And now, she was sulking. And, after she was done, she would inevitably get mad. It was time.
"Are you okay?" asked Daisy, even though the answer was obvious.
Petunia threw a pillow at her. She had a fierce glare and only her red eyes and trembling lip could betray that she was anything but angry a minute ago. But Daisy knew that was just her defensive mechanism. She closed the door after herself and moved closer.
"It's always okay not to be, you know?" Daisy continued. "It would be nice to have magic. Then again, if everyone had magic, it wouldn't be so special anymore."
Petunia sobbed. "...Why not?"
Daisy sat down next to her, thought about it for a second, then replied: "Think about it like this: Magic is a skill. Not everyone can do it. It's like... singing. Some people can do it, some people can't. If everyone could sing, why would people come to concerts?"
The older girl just sniffled again. "But... magic is just..." she started, then stopped, sighed and added, "magical."
"Well, what if people forgot about music? And then discovered it again? Wouldn't it seem strange? New?"
"I... I guess so."
"Magic is a talent just like drawing or singing. People just forgot about it and when they find out about it, they see it as strange, or special, even though it's just like other skills."
Daisy grew silent to let her sister think about it for a while, then added: "Also, people grew up hearing about magic in fairy tales, convinced themselves it wasn't real and then, when they find out it is, they have to accept it again. And for some people, it's really hard to process that. Some might be scared, some might be jealous and some might never even believe it. But, even though you can't do magic, you shouldn't hold it against Lily. We are sisters, we can't hate one of us for possessing a skill we don't."
Petunia looked at Daisy for a while and then, she surged forward and hugged her. She was crying, but that was okay, because it meant she would get it out.
"Wh-when did you be-become so w-wise?" Petunia managed to get through her sobs.
"Didn't you know? I've always been wise. You just have to listen to me more often," Daisy giggled.
She wasn't sure if this would work more permanently, especially when it came to light that Daisy was also a witch, making Petunia the only muggle sibling. Right now, though, she would keep her eldest sister and former aunt company, however long she needed it. Whatever came next was a problem for future-Daisy.
1971
Severus Snape boarded the train alongside Lily Evans with a lot on his mind.
When he was little, he could never understand his mother. Why would she leave a magical family for an abusive muggle? He always wanted to be a Slytherin, to be a little bit closer to his mother's family. They were right to try to stop his mother from marrying his father after all, right?
Other muggles never liked him either. He was just a weird child, with greasy hair and clothes too big. Other children laughed at him and their parents didn't want him anywhere near their offsprings. Not like he wanted to be near them in the first place. He couldn't wait to be eleven so he could go to Hogwarts. Then, he would never have to see them again, and his father couldn't get at him most of the year.
One day, though, he saw Lily Evans conjure a flower. It was done accidentally, of course, but he knew it was magic. So, he began to observe her. It wasn't stalking, not really, but... She was a witch! It didn't matter she was a muggleborn, she was a witch, she was someone who could understand. He could teach her all he knew about the magical world.
Unfortunately, he wasn't good at social interactions. When he called her a witch and she got angry at him, he didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, there was Daisy.
Honestly, he still couldn't understand how the then-five-year-old could understand him so well but she did. She knew what he meant, what he wanted to say, it was like she could read his mind!
Yes, Lily became his friend, and yes, she understood him, just like he had hoped. But that was nothing compared to Daisy. They could almost finish each other's sentences, for Merlin's sake!
It was weird. He had hated muggles ever since his mother told him about the magical world. But here he was, chatting with this small muggle girl, who he would proudly call his sister. (In his head. He was never the emotional type.)
The small girl even roped her parents into it. She pleaded and begged and demanded until her parents agreed to let him sleep over at their house at least once a week, which somehow turned into six days a week.
Daisy somehow knew from the moment she saw him that his father was abusive. She wanted to call child services but he told her not to. He didn't want to abandon his mother, plus, he didn't know where he'd end up. His home was his only connection to the magical world.
He knew she wanted to argue, but she also knew she couldn't help someone who didn't want it. He would stop talking to her if she tried. So, instead, she made sure he spent as little time in his house as possible, while also helping him find creative ways to sneak into his room without his father noticing.
The girls' parents didn't see him as their son. Honestly, they were kind of distant parents, definitely not neglectful, but not overprotective either. (Still, infinitely better than his father.) To them, even though he practically lived with them, he was their daughters' friend.
The girls though, that was a different story. He was their brother. Even Petunia saw him as a brother, albeit an annoying one. She didn't like him much at first, just as he didn't like her, but they grew on each other. (Correction, Daisy made sure they liked each other. It took a lot of work, a lot of time and a lot of resources, but she managed.)
And, he couldn't hate muggles when two of his sisters were muggles too. He wouldn't mind being a Slytherin, but he didn't need to be a Slytherin to be closer to his family. (He already had a family, he didn't need people who disowned his mother for loving a muggle, nevermind that the muggle was an a-... a git. Yeah, a git.)
So, as Severus boarded the train, he thought about what house he would be sorted into. And, of course, the threat from Daisy. ("Look, you know I love you like a brother, but. If you ever insult Lily... Well, you know what will happen.")
She was scary. And, he did know what would happen if he ever insulted Lily. He saw Robert Matthews' nose after he called Lily names. And when Kenneth Wilkinson called Severus a freak, he too was sporting an ugly bruise the next day.
He wasn't sure why Daisy thought he would insult Lily. But, honestly? Daisy was almost always right. Like, when she said something was a bad idea, it was a bad idea. (Not that she ever stopped them from doing it, most of the time, she even joined them, but she knew it was a bad idea.) And anyway, he had no intention to insult Lily, so he didn't question the nine-year-old, just promised her what she wanted.
As he sat down in an empty compartment, though, and fell into an easy conversation with Lily, he let his worries rest.
(And as he later that evening watched Lily sit down with Gryffindors from the Slytherin table, he was sad, yes, and disappointed, but not worried. Lily was his sister, just like Daisy and Petunia. They would always be his family.)