How Does The Adoptive Mother Impact Harry Potter'S Story?

I'm adopted by my parents. They are very nice to me—so nice that they keep praying for my health and happiness before my bedtime every night. Later on, Mom is pregnant with a baby. I hide under my blanket and spend the night crying. Then, I secretly pack the tiny suitcase I've brought with me. But my parents don't send me away. Instead, they treat me even nicer. On the day my little sister, Freya Walker, gets born, Mom takes my hand and pats me gently on the head. "You're an older brother now. That's why you have a little sister to be with you." Dad lifts me over his head while spinning me in circles happily. "You really are our lucky charm, Ash! You'll always be our beloved darling!" Finally, I don't have to keep worrying about getting kicked out. From that day onward, I really think that I've become a part of the family. That is, until Freya smashes my favorite toy car model one day. I'm so angry that I smack her on the spot. She stumbles away from me, soon plopping to the floor. At first, she's stunned for a few moments, only to start bawling immediately after. Mom loses her mind instantly. She shoves me away before scooping Freya into her arms and keep asking her if she's hurt. Dad rushes over and starts strangling me immediately with frighteningly bloodshot eyes. "We've kept you around for so many years, and yet you have the gall to bully Freya? Believe me when I say I'm definitely sending you back to—"

When Gwyneth opened her eyes, she found herself in a webnovel she had just binge-read, and she wasn’t just a random character—she was the villain’s mother! In the story, after the tragic death of her first husband, the original owner of her body had swiftly moved on and snagged a perfect new partner, only to heartlessly cast aside her son from the first marriage, worrying he would become a burden. Now armed with knowledge of the impending plot twists and the looming shadows of her future villain son, Gwyneth glanced at her surprisingly alive first husband and groaned. With the script she had been dealt, she'd rather face a dragon than revamp this narrative! She was determined to rewrite her destiny, but how could she escape this villainous fate?

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

At the banquet hall, I refuse to let my adopted twin pups eat the walnut cake. Ivana Lamont—the childhood sweetheart of my mate, Luther Hardwick—chokes up dramatically. She cries accusingly, "Yara, they may not be yours biologically, but you can't abuse them! Why won't you even let them have a slice of cake?" I'm just about to explain that the twins are allergic to nuts, but they point at me and complain in aggrieved voices. "Mommy often doesn't give us food. We never have enough to eat!" With that, I'm unceremoniously driven out of the banquet hall by the host. When I go to look for my mate to talk about it, I accidentally overhear his conversation with a friend. "Alpha Luther, it's been eight years. Are you still not going to mark Yara?" "There's no rush. I'll wait until the kids are a little older. We love each other very much, so it's fine even if I don't mark her." His friend responds disapprovingly, "You've been hiding from her that the twins are actually your and Ivana's pups. Aren't you afraid she may leave in anger if she finds out?" Luther shakes his head and replies with certainty, "She won't. Yara is an orphan, so she has no family. If she leaves me, where else can she go?" The ugly truth causes me to freeze on the spot. It turns out the pups I've loved for eight years were born to my mate and another she-wolf. What I thought was a happy life is nothing but a cold, heartless deception! I touch my belly, thinking of the pup I just conceived. My tears fall like a relentless downpour. In the shadows, I say inaudibly, "You're wrong, Luther. In fact, I found my birth parents three days ago. I just haven't had the chance to tell you. But it doesn't matter now because you don't need to know about that anymore." I have Luther sign the mate bond dissolution agreement before finalizing my withdrawal from the Sharp Teeth pack. Two days later, I give both my mate and the pups to Ivana. With the pup that Luther has never known or laid his eyes on, I disappear from his world forever.

When my adopted sister, Alayna Ewing, hears that I'm with pup, she specifically gives me the body oil she's made. I accept it with a smile on my face. But later on, I smear the oil all over the belly of the old lady next door, who's diagnosed with a uterine tumor. After all, I have gotten reborn on this very day. In my past life, Alayna had formed a mate bond with Misael Finch, the Alpha of the Darkspire pack. She desperately needed to bear an heir for Alpha Misael in order to strengthen her position as the Luna. Unfortunately, her being an Omega meant that it'd be very difficult for her to conceive. So, she hatched a scheme against me, a newly pregnant she-wolf. Alayna bribed a dark sorcerer to cast a surrogate pregnancy curse on me. As long as I smelled something that she made, the pup in my womb would be transferred into her womb instantly. I spent entire pregnancies caring for my pup meticulously. I even endured the pain of countless shots in order to keep my pup safe. But whenever I was about to give birth, my pup would still end up disappearing. Alayna, on the other hand, gave birth to three heirs who inherited powerful bloodlines from their father. Thanks to that, her position as the Luna was greatly strengthened, and she got to live a lavish and comfortable life. In the end, Alayna had slandered me by claiming that I was overcome by lust during my pregnancy, so I ended up having passionate moments with Rogues. That was how I lost my pup every single time. With my reputation in tatters, I was exiled from the pack and forced to live the remainder of my days as a Rogue. In the end, I froze to death in winter. Now that I'm reborn, I shall grant Alayna her wish, seeing as she really wants an heir of her own. The healers have mentioned that it's their first time seeing such a huge uterine tumor, after all. Oh, I can't imagine what sort of expression Alayna will wear when she finds out that she's given birth to such a big tumor!

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.