A/N: Hi, everyone! As mentioned in the summary, this is super, super AU. As in Triwizard Tournament in sixth year, Voldemort forever dead, Lily alive, Harry's twin sister existing, etc., etc. This is mostly for fun but also for writing practice, so please feel free to share any constructive criticism with me! :) Ah, and I'm 99% sure I obtained this title from the NaNoWriMo adoption boards at some point.
Thanks so much for clicking, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter One
We'll Always Have Knockturn
The August afternoon was warm and wet. Mist swirled around the hood of Emma Potter's candy floss-colored raincoat, and she reached up to make sure her long black hair was properly tucked away. Not that it mattered who saw her today—there were no vendors crowding the alley, clamoring for shoppers' attention, and the only shoppers were walking quickly with their heads down, their rain boots slapping the cobblestone and splashing through puddles.
Other than the speed-walking shoppers, Emma's best friend, Charlotte Guidry, was present. She was walking alongside Emma, a mildly displeased expression on her face. She had a pretty, natural pout that made her look somewhat sultry at all times and dark blonde hair, and she was currently tan, because her wealthy pureblood family summered on the Riviera. "When can we ditch?" Charlotte asked Emma in a low voice as she continued looking ahead, calculating.
Charlotte had never been a fan of the three others that had joined them in Diagon Alley that day: Emma's twin brother and his two best friends. Harry—Emma's brother—was a celebrity. Which, Emma thought as she watched him leap into a puddle in order to splash his best friend, was a little hard to believe if you actually knew him. He'd certainly never seemed like a celebrity to Emma—he was an idiot who stuttered when he talked to cute girls and could start an enmity with literally anyone.
Of course, Emma supposed, she didn't know much about it. Harry was famous because, at the tender age of one, he had somehow managed to kill a Dark Lord. From then on he had grown into a flawless Quidditch player and a skilled duelist. It was actually kind of lucky that it was raining today: if other shoppers had been around, people of all ages would have been approaching Harry, asking him for an autograph or photo.
The friend he had just splashed was Ron Weasley, who was a pale, gangly, freckly redhead with no manners to speak of. Emma had never much liked Ron or any of his family members, which was unfortunate, because Harry and Emma's single mother Lily loved them. While Charlotte spent summers in France, Emma spent summers being dragged to the Weasleys' house, where she would usually sit in the back of various functions and read a book.
She did like one of the Weasley family members—Percy. This was because, while the rest of his family was loud and boisterous and usually yelling, he instead tended to ramble about random bureaucratic policies in the Ministry of Magic, where he worked. Emma preferred this to the shouting, because at least he used a level tone.
Harry's other best friend was much more tolerable. Hermione Granger was trailing after Harry and Ron now, the picture of good-natured patience and exasperation. She was tall herself and had deep brown skin and bushy black curls, and she was far classier than either of the two boys. Emma and Hermione were both bookworms and had exchanged diatribes on various books they'd both read before.
The final difference between the twins and their friends were their Houses at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all in Gryffindor, which was the brave, honorable, impulsive House that won everything. Emma and Charlotte were in Ravenclaw—the competitive, smart, independent House that wished they won everything. At school, the twins and their groups of friends rarely crossed paths, unless it was intentional. The intention was usually from Harry's side; since he was two minutes older than Emma he seemed to think he had to protect her at every turn.
It made complete sense that Charlotte would want to ditch the three Gryffindors, and Emma decided she agreed. "Let's go now," Emma told Charlotte.
"Merlin, finally," muttered Charlotte.
Just as she said this, however, Ron said from a few feet ahead, "Look out!"
Emma registered the warning too late—while Charlotte dodged out of the way, muddy rainwater splattered across Emma's raincoat. She halted and surveyed the damage for a second, watching mud dribble down in rivulets. "Thanks," she said dryly.
"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione with disapproval. She shot Emma an apologetic look. "I'd say he was usually better behaved, but…"
"Hey!" protested Ron, who had run off ahead somewhere to rejoin Harry. "I heard that!"
Emma laughed despite herself and Hermione flashed her a smile before turning around and walking after Harry and Ron. Charlotte gave Emma a baleful look; Emma cleared her throat. "Harry!" she called, squinting ahead to where the two boys were leaping around, attempting to smack the wooden signs hanging outside various shops. They seemed to be trying to splash each other with rainwater the way Emma had been splattered a few seconds earlier. "Charlotte and I are going to the bookstore!"
Instantly Harry halted and turned back. Ron hit the wooden sign directly above him and water splattered all over the top of his raincoat, but Harry didn't even seem to notice. "Be careful!" he shouted. "When do you want to meet up?"
Emma turned around and searched through the misty, rainy air, until she located the massive clock face on the side of Gringotts, the national wizarding bank. "How does three sound to you?"
"Three's great!" Harry replied, waving merrily. Then he turned and took off after Ron.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked back toward Emma and Charlotte. "We'll meet you outside Gringotts," she said. Before either of the Ravenclaws could respond Hermione had turned to speed-walk after Ron and Harry.
The second she was out of earshot Charlotte released a whooshing breath. "Flourish and Blotts it is," she said, turning on her heel. Emma lengthened her own strides to catch up with Charlotte, and in a few seconds both of them were entering Flourish and Blotts, which was the nearest and largest bookstore in Diagon Alley.
It was warm and dry inside. Emma paused just in the door to stamp her wet, squelchy trainers against the doormat, and as she did so she pushed her hood back and shook her hair out while Charlotte did the same. Emma half-glanced over her shoulder toward the nearest wide window, over a few haphazard stacks of books settled on the sill. "How long are we going to hang around here? Until the rain slows down?"
"Sure," said Charlotte with a shrug. She was already on her tiptoes, craning her neck to look around the massive, book-filled store. "We can go to Knockturn later. Other than textbooks I do really need to find a new book to read."
With this said she turned on her heel and began to walk up one of the main aisles, stepping over stacks of books as she went. Emma strolled after her. "I already told you, you've got to read Murder at Hog's Head. It's really well-written, it's suspenseful, there's a twist at the end—"
"Yeah, no thanks," Charlotte replied, lifting one hand as if to wave the idea away. "I'm not into reading about murder. Especially not murder that happens at a real place that's ten minutes away from where we sleep."
Emma shrugged, even though Charlotte had abruptly turned and entered an aisle and wasn't paying attention anymore. Emma had always loved a good murder mystery. And it was cool that it was set somewhere that she knew—it was almost like knowing a celebrity.
The thought was a bit silly, given that Emma had grown up with one. Plus, outside Harry's defeat of a terrible Dark Lord at the age of one, their mother Lily had gotten a book published about a year and a half ago. Candy Apple had done startlingly well in the wizarding community, which meant Emma kind of lived with two celebrities. But neither her mother nor her brother seemed particularly famous to Emma—they just seemed normal. Maybe a little Quidditch-obsessed, but normal.
Emma and Charlotte wandered through Flourish and Blotts for a good amount of time. There were plenty of books to consider buying: they were not only jam-packed into the shelves and stacked on the floor, but also stacked atop the bookshelves, in the windows, and all along a skinny staircase that led to the mezzanines.
It took Emma a while to find the mystery fiction section, but it was rewarding when she did. She selected a few books with interesting titles and perched on the edge of a stack of books to briefly page through them. She decided to buy the two mystery books that involved politics—they seemed complex, and from the first few pages of both they each seemed well-written.
Emma returned the other books to their respective places and then picked her way back out of the aisle. She had yet to try and find the specially-marked Hogwarts textbook section—Flourish and Blotts was constantly such a wreck that it changed location every year. And Emma had yet to see any fellow Hogwarts students wandering around from any particular section, which was unhelpful.
When Emma turned a corner of a bookshelf she slammed right into someone. "Oh, sorry," Emma quickly said: then she turned and saw who it was, and her breath caught in her throat.
For she had bumped into Pansy Parkinson. "Well," said Pansy, folding her arms. "What are you doing here, Potter?" She made a show of looking around. "Especially without anyone to protect you?"
Pansy Parkinson made Hungarian Horntails look friendly. Her attitude was both downright depressing and absolutely infuriating—because for the past five years at Hogwarts she and Emma had been close friends, until the Daphne Thing at the end of last year. Pansy had only distanced herself then, and the lines had been drawn this summer at one of Teddy Nott's house parties, when Pansy had gotten into such an argument with Charlotte that Charlotte had burst into tears.
It was even worse because Pansy could get away with anything. She was good at smooth-talking anyone, and she was classically gorgeous, with olive skin, high cheekbones, and a perfect nose. She could even make the Hogwarts uniform, which consisted of pleated kilts and stiff button-up shirts, look good, which was a feat in itself. "Just looking for textbooks," said Emma bracingly. "D'you know where they are?"
Before Pansy could offer some snarky response, Tracey Davis appeared. Emma had never been friends with Tracey, but Pansy always had. Emma wasn't even sure how—Tracey was always angry and cool with literally everyone. "Oh, hi," said Tracey, halting beside Pansy. She gave Emma a quick once-over and then faced Pansy. "I found the book. Can we get out of here?"
"I'd love to," said Pansy, shooting Emma a nasty look. "If you'll excuse us, Emma." She passed Emma, slamming into her shoulder as she went, and disappeared back up the aisle Emma stood on. Tracey went with her and didn't even spare Emma another glance.
Emma looked after both of them for a few seconds. She really had no idea what she'd done to either of the two Slytherins, but whatever, she decided. It was their problem.
She found Charlotte perusing the Hogwarts textbooks, already holding at least four books in her arms. "Look at this," said Charlotte upon glancing up and sighting Emma. She hefted up one of the textbooks with her free hand to wave it in the air as best she could. "We're going to have to read this shite."
"That is typically what one does with textbooks," Emma replied. She joined Charlotte in order to find the books she needed, but then paused halfway through her search. "Should I buy Harry's books?"
Charlotte snorted. "I don't have much faith in your brother's smarts," she remarked, "but I think he can figure that much out."
Emma rolled her eyes and resumed looking through the textbooks. After another few minutes passed, Charlotte said, "Alright. You ready to go?"
"Never readier," said Emma, adjusting her grip on the various textbooks she now had stacked in her arms. Judging from the weight of them—and what they'd been hearing for years in the Ravenclaw common room—sixth year was going to be terribly difficult.
Charlotte and Emma checked out with their textbooks and walked back outside, where they paused beneath the awning to shove their books into Emma's expanded-on-the-inside tote bag. With this task completed the two of them resumed wandering down Diagon Alley.
They stopped in Madam Malkin's, as Charlotte wanted a couple of new button-up uniform shirts, before heading on to their original destination of Knockturn Alley. "Oh, and I saw Pansy at the bookstore," Emma said, as the two of them drew ever nearer to the turnoff. "She's got Tracey Davis with her."
"Ugh," groaned Charlotte. She halted, and Emma stopped to glance back at her, eyebrows raised. "She's totally going to be there. Maybe we shouldn't go."
"No, come on," said Emma. She half-glanced back over Charlotte's shoulder, toward the clock on the side of Gringotts. "We'll just avoid her. We only have an hour left anyway."
Charlotte frowned. She detested Pansy, even though she and Pansy had been quite close up until the Daphne Thing last year. Emma could see she was wavering, though, and she added in the hopes of convincing her, "We can't get that everlasting nail polish anywhere else."
Now Charlotte brightened. "Okay, we'll go to Angelie's," she said, and resumed walking. "But that's it this time."
She said something along these lines every time they went to Knockturn Alley. On most occasions, however, the two of them wound up browsing several more stores than intended. Emma had heard various rumors about how awful and creepy Knockturn Alley was, but most of the Ravenclaws she knew went there for Potions ingredients or specific books that were banned elsewhere. Slytherins had no problem wandering around Knockturn Alley either.
There had been one incident in which Harry had gotten lost and found himself in Knockturn Alley, and Emma had had to rescue him, but that was just Harry. He had a bad habit of trying to start a fight with anyone he thought might be pro-Voldemort, the Dark Lord he'd defeated at one, and his personal pride was not exactly something to be admired. Typically, Emma knew, if you walked like you knew what you were doing, for the most part the Knockturn Alley regulars would leave you alone.
Besides—there were stores like Angelie's that wouldn't show up in Diagon Alley, because some of their products were technically illegal due to their ingredients. The Ministry could never catch them, though, and couldn't prove that the products had ever been sold there. The products were so useful, like everlasting nail polish and shampoo that gave the user perfect beachy curls, that no customers ever gave Angelie's up to the Ministry. Any similar stores that had been given up to the Ministry generally managed to evade serious convictions and set themselves back up under different names a few months later.
Emma and Charlotte made their first stop at Angelie's. Next the two of them checked out a smoky bookstore, where Emma bought an interesting book about carnivorous flowers and cultivating them. After browsing a few clothing shops Emma tried to bring Charlotte across a dark, narrow alleyway in order to see an apothecary. "No thanks," said Charlotte, making a face. She'd always been scared to death of bugs and snakes, both of which were usually used in potions. "I'll be in Borgin and Burkes."
The two girls parted ways. Emma headed into the store alone—it was rather small and square and stuffed with overflowing shelves. She had no idea where to look first and wandered down the first aisle she saw.
The owner was back behind the counter, shifting boxes around, and didn't notice Emma for a few minutes. She had already skimmed a few labels on tiny glass vials when he glanced up and caught sight of her. "Ah, afternoon," he said, as Emma set down essence of horseradish. "You alright?"
Emma flashed a polite smile at him. He was an older gentleman, with a shock of gray hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. "Yeah, not bad, thanks," she said, nodding at him. "You?"
"Not bad," the owner echoed back. "See anything you like?"
Emma glanced back at the shelf and considered for a split second. Then she turned and strolled over to the counter. "I'm actually looking for octopus powder," she said. "I'm almost out." Octopus powder was used to strengthen potions; and, as potions were the only type of magic students were allowed to perform outside of Hogwarts while underage, Emma had long practiced brewing potions over her summer holidays.
The apothecary nodded. "I'm sure it's on one of those two aisles over there," he said, pointing.
Emma thanked him and walked over to examine the aisles he had gestured to. Unfortunately there was a row of dead spiders, bottled and preserved, along the top of one of the shelves, and Emma did her utmost to ignore them—spiders were the one thing she could not stand. She had just located the octopus powder and was plucking up a glass jar of it to check the price tag on the bottom when she heard someone else enter the shop. "I'll only be a moment!" Emma heard a vaguely familiar boy voice call.
Then she heard the door swing shut, followed by footsteps. Emma tried to place the voice for a second and then refocused on deciding what size jar to buy. She didn't know what would be coming in her upper-level Potions class this year, but she figured it would probably be best to go in prepared. The bigger jar it is.
Emma straightened up and wandered around the corner of the shelf. On the last shelf, almost pushed entirely back against the wooden wall—Emma had to remain sideways in order to walk alongside it—she found aconite and bloodroot. The aconite she snatched up and decided to buy instantly. She considered the bloodroot for a few seconds.
During this time she heard whoever had walked in and the apothecary talking. It sounded as if the two of them knew each other. Emma waited for the customer to walk away from the counter, so she could ask the owner a question about Bloodroot Poison, but the two of them just kept chatting away.
Emma was starting to get a little irritated, and she walked back along the front aisle of the store, near the large window that showed the rainy street. She glanced outside and caught sight of another Slytherin she knew—Blaise Zabini. He was leaning against a stone wall across the alley and standing beneath an awning, one leg casually crossed over the other, reading something.
This sighting made it click: the customer chatting with the apothecary had to be Draco Malfoy. Blaise and Draco were best friends and seemed to be complete opposites—whereas Blaise was the true, classic image of a Slytherin, cool and collected at all times and capable of brief but frosty and lethal insults, Draco never had it together. He was outright aggressive toward Harry in particular, as well as most other Gryffindors, but he mostly ignored everyone else.
Still, everyone knew when Draco and Harry were fighting. It was always raucous and attention-getting. The two of them would shout insults at each other and wound up dueling on most occasions. They'd hated each other since first year for no reason Emma, or probably Harry or Draco for that matter, could remember.
As Emma saw it, Draco's worst flaw was probably his arrogance—he was full of himself to say the least. But, to be fair, he did have some reason to be: he was a good-looking guy, his parents were ultra-wealthy, he was smart, and he played Quidditch well. He just acted over the top about it.
Emma decided to avoid him. This was her usual go-to when she spotted other Hogwarts students in public. She speed-walked around a corner of another shelf right as Draco turned to walk away from the apothecary's counter. Hopefully he hadn't caught a glimpse of her.
Even though it was Knockturn Alley and Draco was a Slytherin, Emma was still a little surprised to see him here, in a random apothecary's shop. And how did he know the owner so well? It was odd. Then again, Emma thought as she approached the counter herself, she didn't know what Draco did when he wasn't fighting with Harry.
Well, she thought, she knew one thing—he was dating Pansy. They'd started going out last year. Pansy had just never brought him over to hang out with them. All in all Emma had had maybe one conversation with him in her life, and that was probably from some Slytherin party she'd gone to over some summer.
The apothecary had returned to stacking boxes by the time Emma reached him. When she did, she cleared her throat. "Ah, yes?" he said, straightening up and turning around. "Are you finished?"
"Well, almost," said Emma. She adjusted her grip on the jars she'd collected. "I just have a couple of questions. I saw you have bloodroot—"
Immediately the apothecary looked almost canny. "You don't have a problem with it."
"No, I'm trying to decide whether or not to buy it," said Emma. The apothecary visibly relaxed. Emma understood why: bloodroot had been banned by the Ministry years ago. It was relatively toxic. "I know bloodroot is the mainstay of Bloodroot Poison. How much bloodroot is used in that?"
The apothecary tilted his head, seeming to think. "Well," he said, "I don't know the exact amount, but I'm sure you'd need a large amount. Depends on how much poison you're making."
It was another testament to the fact that they were currently in Knockturn Alley that the apothecary didn't bother asking why Emma wanted to know about poison. Emma nodded at him. "Fair enough," she said. "And the antidote—does it involve any bloodroot? I'd assume you would need at least the essence."
"You'd be right," the apothecary said. "I've got essence, too, but it's in the back." He gave Emma a once-over. "You think you're gonna buy it?"
Quickly Emma nodded. The apothecary grinned at her, excused himself, and headed into the back room, which had to be located beyond the door that was behind the counter. He pulled the door shut with a click behind him.
Emma waited there for a couple minutes, carefully setting out the bottles of various items she wanted to buy. Then she took a quick look around the store. She had no idea where Draco Malfoy had gone—the shelves were too high to see over them—and she could only pray she didn't bump into him.
She left her items at the counter and hurried to the back of the store, where she rounded the corner and headed over to find a large jar of bloodroot. She selected it and grabbed a jar of molted snakeskin on her way back to the counter. Just as she reached the counter, Draco appeared, wandering around the corner of one shelf, looking at the end cap.
It was too late now. Draco spotted her out of the corner of his eye as Emma set down the jar of bloodroot and the molted snakeskin on the counter. Draco turned to look directly at her. "Oh," he said, face registering surprise. Then he looked reluctant. "Hi."
"Hey," said Emma bracingly, lifting one hand to wave at him a little. Draco smiled politely at her, though he did look a little fidgety—like he thought she might suddenly fly at him in a rage. Emma wondered vaguely if he'd heard something about her from Pansy, or if it was just the fact that she looked similar to Harry.
After all, she and Harry were nearly identical—they both had brown, olive-toned skin and chronically messy black hair. But Harry had Lily's bright green eyes, whereas Emma had her father's hazel ones. Emma had also managed to get a light splash of freckles on her face from her mother. Harry just had the lightning-shaped scar Voldemort had given him back when he was one.
Emma was sure it didn't help that she'd never had a real conversation with Draco. She decided impulsively to prove that she was not Harry. "You alright?" she asked Draco.
"Yeah, thanks," said Draco. His eyes flicked over her. "You?"
"Yep," said Emma.
The two of them studied each other for a second. Draco really was quite pretty, Emma thought, tall and pale with slightly tousled white-blond hair and a really well-formed face. He was like a walking work of art, honestly. Emma could have stared at him for hours.
But that would not have been remotely socially acceptable. "How's your summer been?" Emma asked him.
"Oh—fine, I guess," said Draco. He reached up to brush his hand through his hair, and then kind of moved to fix it. "Didn't really do much. What about you?"
"Same," Emma replied. "Just practiced potions. The usual."
"You're really into Potions, huh?" said Draco. Emma nodded, and Draco glanced over at the items she'd gathered together on the counter. He took a small step over to take a better look at them. "This looks lethal," he observed. He looked back at Emma. "You planning to do someone in?"
He was smirking very faintly as he said this, which made Emma wonder—was he flirting with her? No way, she thought. He was just being sarcastic. Maybe he had a dry sense of humor. There was no way for her to know. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you too," Emma deadpanned.
Draco raised his eyebrows. "What, I can't just become an accomplice?"
"I can't trust you with this information," Emma replied. She nodded toward Draco. "For all I know you could turn me in later just to get back at my brother."
At the mention of Harry, Draco scoffed. "Oh, please, I would never." Emma just gave him a look, and Draco straightened up, putting one hand to his chest, as if he was mortally offended. "What kind of person do you think I am? Your brother's the one that starts every fight we have!"
"I'm sure he does," Emma agreed. "But you're the one that talks shit first."
Draco seemed to consider. Then he nodded. "Yeah, that's true." He shrugged. "But what can I say? Slytherins versus Gryffindors, or whatever." He pointed at Emma. "You're lucky Ravenclaws don't have to fight Hufflepuffs. They can be surprisingly mean, you know."
Emma laughed. "Somehow I don't believe you. And anyway Ravenclaws are mean enough to each other, we don't need another House to battle."
Before the conversation could continue the apothecary reemerged from the back room, a big jar of bloodroot essence in hand. "And here we are," he said as he appeared. He set the jar down on the counter and glanced up to smile at Emma. "Any more questions?" Then he half-glanced toward Draco. "Ah—can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Not at the moment, thanks," said Draco. He kind of nodded at Emma, who half-smiled politely in response, and then turned to wander down one of the various aisles. When he was gone Emma faced the apothecary.
The apothecary was picking up the little jars Emma had procured and checking their price tags. "Interesting family, the Malfoys," he said conversationally, albeit in a low voice. "Draco's the best of the lot. How do you know them?"
"I don't," said Emma.
"Just as well," replied the apothecary, who was hardly bothered. "Are you sure this is all you're buying?"
Emma purchased her chosen ingredients and put them away, first into a smooth wooden box and then down into her tote bag. At last she said goodbye to the apothecary and made her way out of the shop. At the door she glanced back. That conversation with Draco had been weird, Emma thought as she emerged into the rainy alley. At least it had definitely been a one-off, considering she couldn't begin to imagine another scenario in which she and Draco Malfoy had a normal conversation.
Charlotte was waiting across the alley outside Borgin and Burkes a few hundred yards away from Blaise, who was still reading. Emma waved as she walked over to join her. "Hey," Emma said. "We still on time?"
"Yeah, but we've got to get back," Charlotte replied. She turned and began to walk in the direction of Diagon Alley, and Emma matched her pace. "Did you see Blaise Zabini?" Without waiting for an answer Charlotte continued, "All the Slytherins are out and about today."
Emma nodded. "Yeah. I actually—"
"Oh! I almost forgot!" exclaimed Charlotte. She whirled toward Emma, grabbing her arm. "You'll never believe what I found in Borgin and Burkes! Look!" She moved to dig into her own tote bag and withdrew a crystallized skull paperweight. Emma decided, as Charlotte rambled about the paperweight and a few other morbid pieces of decor she'd bought, there was no point in interrupting her to tell her about Draco.
Charlotte and Emma met back up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione right on time, and the group left Diagon Alley together. Soon Emma had given Charlotte her textbooks back and it was just Harry and Emma, taking the Floo Network back to their manor house in Godric's Hollow.
The entire trip had been fairly average in total, outside the lack of witches and wizards positively queuing up to ask for Harry's messy autograph. Emma and Harry headed to their respective rooms upon reaching their house. "Mum said she'd be back late tonight!" Harry called as Emma trotted upstairs.
"Okay!" Emma shouted back. She reached her bedroom door and let herself in. Once there she dropped her tote bag onto her neatly-made bed: then, on second thought, she turned on her heel and walked right back out into the hallway. She'd been planning on putting it off until tomorrow, which was the day before they would have to catch the train back to school, but she'd need tomorrow to pack.
Besides—it would be better to go to the cemetery down the street now, rather than later, when Lily was around. As it was Emma had to half-sneak out the front door into the drizzly afternoon air.
Emma had a habit of wandering down the street to the cemetery, particularly when Lily and Harry were not around. She knew both of them would understand, Harry on a level no one else she knew could, but she didn't want either of them to keep her company. Lily always insisted they walk into town first to buy flowers from the grocer's while Harry was always sullen and silent, keeping his eyes on his trainers. And Emma would have been too self-conscious to speak with Lily or Harry standing there.
The cemetery was only a ten-minute walk from the house, and there was rain-slicked pavement that meandered along the road. Emma kept her hands in the pockets of her raincoat as she squinted ahead. She was fairly certain she could see Mrs. Takaya, one of their various Muggle neighbors, walking her beagle, just passing beneath the chestnut tree.
Fortunately Emma would not have to make conversation with the woman; she was horribly gossipy. She reached the turn for the cemetery within a few minutes—she was still far away enough to avoid waving without looking rude—and turned on her heel to walk along the skinny stone path. In moments she passed over the threshold, beneath the ivy-covered brick archway, and pushed open the creaky wrought-iron gate.
The cemetery was crowded with crumbling headstones. Emma closed the gate behind her and turned to take the shortest route to her father's grave. She did her best not to step on any other graves in an attempt to respect the dead, and after walking through patches of squishy wet grass Emma reached the tombstone she'd come for. When she did, she halted at the end of the grave and released a breath.
On the headstone very careful, particular letters were engraved—James Potter, Beloved Husband and Father. Emma studied the stone for a moment. Then, after she glanced self-consciously over her shoulder to make sure nobody was within hearing range or anywhere near her, she turned back and said, "Well, we're leaving for school the day after tomorrow. We went to Diagon Alley not long ago to buy textbooks. At least it wasn't just me and Harry and his friends, Charlotte was there, too…"
Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she continued to ramble, her voice low and even. She'd started coming out here to vent to her father's silent grave a few years ago, back when she'd come to the abrupt realization that Lily probably didn't care about her friend drama. Harry's drama was more important anyway—it had to do with potential Death Eaters and the war and Voldemort and Quidditch, all of which Lily was invested in. Emma was more concerned with Potions and rumors and the outdoors.
At least she knew there was no possible way she was annoying her father by talking at him. After all, he was dead, and he had been for literally as long as Emma could remember.
Back when she and Harry had been one, Voldemort had broken into their house and attempted to kill them. James had been the only one home, and he'd gone down valiantly, protecting Emma and Harry from Voldemort. Then Voldemort had turned and attempted to kill Harry—and with some mysterious unknown force Harry had bounced the killing spell right back at Voldemort. Just like that a Dark Lord was dead, a war was over, and Harry was a hero.
Whereas Harry was famous for that and Lily was famous for both her war efforts and her book, Emma was famous for being related to them. She had done nothing of note as a one-year-old or even since then, really. Her own life was utterly uninteresting; she knew it, and preferred not to bother anyone else with her problems.
But despite Harry's fame and glory, Emma didn't hold it against him. He was pretty down-to-earth for someone who had been famous since he was one, after all. And he was her twin brother—she couldn't hate him. He was a bit of an idiot but he was her idiot.
"So I'm not mad at him or anything," Emma said presently to her father's silent grave. "He's already had professional Quidditch scouts asking about him and he's met an Auror from the Ministry of Magic, and he hasn't even really done anything. He's a true talent. Sorry you missed out." Emma sighed and glanced around, at the tall brick walls surrounding the cemetery, and then up at the cloudy gray sky overhead. "But it's not his fault."
She redirected her attention to the tombstone. "I'll come back over Winter Break," Emma promised. "I'll let you know how awful first term is. And if I made it into the Slug Club, or if Harry's won anything else." She edged around the grave to reach out and brush a wayward white dogwood petal from the top of it. "See you then."
Emma glanced over the tombstone for another second. Then she turned and followed the path she had taken to get there, heading back out of the cemetery. She reached the exit within moments. Just as she pulled the gate shut behind her, rain resumed spiraling down from the sky; and it only strengthened as Emma marched back toward the manor house. In the distance she could see the long street winding away, cutting into the green countryside, and she could make out the town down near one of the patches of oak trees, the church spire tall above the other buildings.
It was true—she already knew her first term back at Hogwarts this year was going to be awful. After the Daphne Thing last year, there was no doubt in her mind that it would be. Ah, well, thought Emma, drawing in a deep breath of the cool, fresh countryside air. It'd be over sooner rather than later.