Chapter 1 - Ripples
Disclaimer: All characters and situation relating to Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and many others. J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc own anything relating to the Harry Potter universe. No copyright infringement was desired as this is a piece of non-profit fan fiction.
Summary: A single moment can affect the entire fabric of reality as we know it.
Author's Notes: Completely AU. I wrote this about a month ago, and have just recently gotten a blast of inspiration. Used to be The Ripple Effect.
Note 2: In case you’re wondering, Réalité Tordue is French for Twisted Reality.
It's amazing how one event can affect everything. It's like a ripple, spreading, and each ring is bigger than the previous, until nothing is the same, everything is warped. Often times, these events are so small, so seemingly unimportant that we don't even notice as they pass us by.
I suppose that's what allows for the infinite number of alternate realities floating about in the space-time continuum, separated only by the thin veil of reality. But there are some those random few, who are interspaced across everything that exists outside the boundaries of reality. Those few aren't fooled by the barriers created to separate, those few pass through them as if they were nothing more than air. I am one of those few.
If you've ever told yourself that what you do is inconsequential, you're wrong. Every person in this world in responsible for causing an endless number of ripples that eventually effect each and every life form in existence. Every accountant, child, dentist and hooker shapes the fabric of space, time and subsistence.
Our story begins in a small town that is much more than what it appears to be on the surface. It's amazing, how a small, unassuming 10-year-old girl managed to cause such a split in the realities of this universe. But, yet again, appearances are often deceiving.
The ripple has only just begun.
The family was unnaturally quiet as they sat about calmly eating their dinner. It seemed on the surface to be a sweet young family. The mother and father both successful psychiatrists, their only daughter an abnormally intelligent ten year old. But things aren't always as they seem: the mother had a legacy she believed would disappear if she ignored it, the father was cold and uncaring to his daughter, and the daughter herself, a victim of constant bullying and too little attention.
So what seemed like a normal, hard-working Jewish family was actually not. For the Rosenburg's were anything but normal and Ira's seemingly normal wife was anything but Jewish. Had they known what would come of the dinner conversation about to take place, perhaps it would have been different; as they say, hindsight is 20/20. But it is not our decision to make; we simply observe the consequences.
"Momma," came the shy, unassuming voice of ten-year-old Willow Rosenburg; her red hair falling across bright emerald eyes. "Can I go over to Jesse's for a sleepover on Friday night?"
Sheila Rosenburg looked up sharply, shocked by the sudden deja vu of herself and- no, she wouldn't think about that, it was in the past. "No, Willow," was the terse reply she gave her daughter, who reminded her so much of her departed sister.
"But, Momma!" the child cried out in alarm, "I've done real well on all my school work and you know Jesse's mom doesn't mind having Xander and I over there! Please!" Willow Rosenburg was not an easy to upset child, but when it came to her friends her emotions knew no boundaries.
"That's my answer, Willow," came the curt response, controlled in Sheila's attempt to reign in the memories that invade her mind at the thought of another red-haired girl and her two best friends. "You're far to old to be having sleepovers with boys. It's just not right."
"NO!!!!!" came the frustrated howl from the child, her redhead temper showing itself in an odd burst. "Xander and Jesse are my best friends and I don't care if they're boys!" Willow stamped to her feet knocking her chair to the ground. Her father looked up with a blank expression on his face before returning to his food.
"That's it!" Sheila exclaimed to her daughter, whom she was determined to stop from making the same mistakes she had, "I don't want you playing with those two anymore, they're a bad influence on you!"
Willow glared at her mother, chest heaving in anger and sweat beading down her small forehead. Her small, bright green eyes narrowed with pent up rage. With an ear-cracking explosion the glass pitcher filled with water on the table between them exploded into crystal shards, which flew outwards. Only one of the table’s occupants ducked, Ira Rosenburg throwing both arms over his head in self-protection as he crouched beneath the table.
The mother and daughter, on the other hand, simply stared in shock at each other, their anger forgotten in momentary surprise. Sheila Rosenburg's expression turned quickly to horror, realization of who was responsible for the explosion, and what that meant, covering her features. Willow Rosenburg's expression held a look of child-like awe, also knowing deep down inside what, or in this case who, had caused the destruction of her mother's prized crystal vase.
A crushing silence descended on the Rosenburg household. It pressed in on the residents from all sides, daring them to break its stony hold. Ira Rosenburg raised himself wordlessly from his position on the ground, starring with shock at the glass shatters throughout the kitchen. Realization dawned on his face and was quickly turned to wrath.
"You said she was normal!" came his screamed statement directed at his wife, "You said she wasn't like you! You said she wasn't another freak!" Ira Rosenburg's normally apathetic face was scrunched up in distaste.
"Ira," came Sheila's mumbled reply, "I didn't know, I couldn't have possibly imagined..." It was obvious that the red-haired woman was still in shock at her daughter's outbreak. There had been no sign before now, none at all.
"I don't care!" Ira's screaming voice cut through her reverie, "I won't have that thing in my house! Get her out! Get her out!" The slightly balding, middle-aged man stormed out of the room, leaving mother and daughter. Willow was horribly confused and hurt. What had she done wrong? Why was her father yelling like that?
"Momma?" came the scared, inquisitive voice of the young girl. "Momma, what's going on?" She looked up at her mother with wide emerald orbs.
"Willow," was the reply snapped at the 10-year-old, "Pack some stuff in a bag, right now." Sheila had made her decision. She couldn't handle something like this. She had left that world behind years ago, now it was time to get rid of the only reminder. That was no longer her world and she didn't want anything to do with it anymore, even if that meant leaving her daughter there.
Remus Lupin was quietly reading in his out of the way cabin. He liked it best out here, away from the noise and smoke of the city. There were very few people around, allowing the werewolf a freedom he was not often granted.
Of course, while he loved the isolation and the liberty it allowed him, he couldn't help but feel the stab of loneliness. If only Violet hadn't left. No, he wasn't going to go down that path; Violet had left, changed her name even, suppressed her witchcraft and even married a Jewish muggle, last he heard. He remembered the day he had gotten her letter; no, not her letter, Sheila Rosenburg's letter. She wasn't the same woman anymore; she was no longer Violet Evans...
A knocking on his front door startled Remus out of thoughts of his first and only love. The sadness he had been wallowing in was quickly pushed out of the way by surprise and curiosity. Who would be calling on him? The only people who ever called on him didn't use the door. He stood up, his tall, lanky frame stretching out, and placed his book on a nearby table.
Reaching out one long-fingered, callous hand, Remus Lupin turned the doorknob and twisted open the oak slab, beginning to politely greet however had come to call.
"He..." he almost immediately trailed off, surprise covering his handsome features as he took in the woman who had told him 9 years ago that she wanted nothing to do with him. "Violet?" It was a shock-filled whisper, as though he was afraid that if he talked to loud, she would disappear.
"Remus," was the terse reply from Violet Evans, now Sheila Rosenburg, "Here, take her. She's not welcome in my life." With that, Sheila stubbornly set her jaw and pushed Willow into the brown-haired werewolf. She quickly turned to leave, wanting to be rid of this terrible reminder of her past as soon as possible.
"Violet!" Remus cried after her, horribly bewildered at the fact that his ex-love had just thrown a small girl into his arms. "Wh.... What?" Sheila turned around to take one last look at the two.
"She's your daughter, Remus," was her shouted reply as she continued on her stride to her car, "I don't want to take care of the freak anymore." With that Sheila Rosenburg entered her car and drove away, hoping with all her might that she would never see the two again.
Willow Rosenburg and Remus Lupin were left horribly dazed in the doorway to a small wooden shack surrounded by trees. Neither of them was coherent at the time but had they been, they might have realized that this was just the beginning.
The ripple simply established the foundation…
So, what do you think? The idea just hit me that Willow Rosenburg sounded a lot like Lily Evans-Potter. My imagination ran away with it and I got this. Tell me what you think. Should I continue?