Effie Jordan had never fit in. The real world was too intimidating, too scary, too cruel. Fictional worlds were not. After a fateful strike of lightning, she finds herself transported into her book; a witch in the same year as the Boy Who Lived hims...
AN: Hey loves, thank you for choosing to read my book! Please be open with communication because while I have a plot outline I'd love to add in some of your suggestions.
The best word to describe Effie Jordan is average. She was an average height with an average build and average features. When people looked at her, which they rarely did, she looked nothing more than plain. She wasn't ugly, she was just... ordinary. Ordinary in school. Ordinary in sports. Ordinary in everything she did.
This fact is something that Effie is fine with. She never wanted to stand out or be different. Different attracts attention, and that was something she didn't need. The only thing she needed were her books.
Of her books, her Harry Potter ones were her favorites. In a way she could never put into words, the characters understood her. Reading through the books made her feel like she was there with them, experiencing their adventure and trauma as though they were her own.
Her love of Harry Potter books had become an obsession. She was too busy with with Harry Potter to make friends, not that they'd be accepting of her anyway. Somehow, Effie always managed to say the wrong things. Her peers hated her for it. Always accidentally ratting them out to adults because she couldn't sensor what she said. Accidentally hurting their feelings when she couldn't understand context clues. With the Harry Potter books, she didn't screw things up. There was no way to say the wrong things because the characters couldn't hear her. There was no way to misinterpret a situation because she was literally reading the context clues. All of her quirks and mistakes didn't follow her in the books she read. The words on the page felt real to her, no matter how many times she tried convincing herself it was a work of fiction, and the characters never judged.
She read each book until the sides were worn from use and the pages were messy with stains. The once white sheets had become an assortment of colors from the bleeding of pens she used to write little notes in the margins and accidental food spills. Despite not looking the same as at their prime, Effie cherished the books more than anything in the world.
The search history of the old computer in her school library would show an embarrassing number of Harry Potter related searches. She loved to research spells, history, and potions from the Harry Potter world and pretend she was there.
The real world is full of hatred. Mean glares when her twitching fingers distracted others from their tests. Angry conversations when she broke things and couldn't remember how. Condescending laughter when her shyness prevented her from finding the right words in time to answer questions. But in the Harry Potter universe, those things didn't exist to her.
As the new school year rolled around, her parents became concerned. Effie had spent a majority of the summer holed up in her room with her books, only leaving for meals and the occasional outdoor read. Her parents swore they could hear her talking to someone in her room, but every time they peeked inside she was alone. They hadn't gone crazy, because she was talking, just not to another person. Effie had begun to talk to the characters in her books (C'mon we all do it).
They didn't talk back, of course, but she liked to think that they did. Her lack of human contact had driven her to a point of near insanity.
On the night of August 31st, the last night of summer before her first year of high school, Effie found herself struggling to leave her books. Her parents had opted to invest in a private school education for her final years before university, and not just any private school. The Arcane Academy for the Uniquely Talented - a school best known for its acceptance and rehabilitation of loners and outcasts. In other words, a last ditch parental attempt to make Effie normal.
While Effie knew her parents loved her, she also knew they never understood her. They were bright and friendly - prom king and queen in their youth - and they could not relate to their mousy wallflower genetic mutation.
She sat out on the sliver of roof outside her window and cherished one last night with her books, her soft, Hogwarts themed pajamas catching against the hard roof surface. When she was looking over the third and her favorite book of the series, The Prisoner of Azkaban, her goodbyes became more tearful. She clutched the book to her heart and sobbed.
"I wish it were real. I wish it were all real."
Though Effie couldn't see it with her head ducked behind her book, a storm had started to roll in. She fell asleep on the roof area to the sound of distant thunder, her clutch on her book loosening and allowing it to fall open, as she let out one last whisper.
"I wish it were real."
Suddenly the pages of her book started turning rapidly. The sound of fluttering paper filled the quiet of the night, soon joined by loud booming thunder. The pages stopped turning abruptly as the first page lay open next to Effie's sleeping body. With a crackle of lightning, Effie's body was absorbed into the book and it snapped shut behind her. The book remained still in its spot and the storm that had been raging just moments before faded away into oblivion.
The sound of train whistles and bustling strangers made Effie jolt awake. Startled by the suddenly large amount of people surrounding her, Effie rubbed her eyes, not yet able to make out her surroundings. When she finally removed her hands, she found herself sitting on a bench in a busy train station. She looked down at herself, surprised to find that her embarrassing Hogwarts pajamas had been exchanged with a long sleeved black turtle neck under an oversized red v neck vest paired with high waisted jeans. She had to touch the clothes to determine their realness, fully acknowledging internally that she had never owned clothes that stylish. Looking down to her feet next to her black combat boots, was a cart holding a long old looking brown trunk and a cage housing a beautiful dark brown owl.
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Her heartbeat picked up rapidly as she surveyed her surroundings and her face heated up at her realization that she had been sleeping on the bench in front of everyone. Her hands roamed purposelessly to her pockets when she felt something firm fall into her grasp. Retracting her hand from her pocket she lifted the object up to her face and examined it thoroughly. In her hand was a small, silver compact mirror with the engraving, E.J, her initials. She looked at it for another moment then let a gasp escape her lips once she opened it. Looking back at her in the mirror was her face, but somehow much different.
Her nose which she had always been told was too long, too prominent, remained the same. But Effie no longer saw it through the insulting view, but instead through one of admiration. The thin, chapped lips that had once graced her face were the same size, but now smooth and pink. Her eyes had stayed a dark blue, but they were not dull as she once believed, but so captivating in their color that she became entranced by them for a moment. She couldn't help but stare from under her now dark and beautiful eyelashes at her hair. The muddy strings that she once hid behind were now fluffy and graceful. Her hair now fell perfectly around her face and flowed elegantly down to her lower back. A blush spread over her now soft and lightly freckled cheeks as she stared at her appearance. She looked the same, but healthy. Happy. The face that stared back at her was one of pure innocence and kindness, seemingly never having seen days of stress and panic.
Suddenly she came to a realization. Trunks, owls, train station. Her eyes widened with panic and understanding. She was in her book.
