This is the story of me, Veronica VanDyke, the long-lost sister of Harry Potter.

Chapter 1

Rain fell in icy-cold sheets outside the window. I couldn't see two feet in front of me because of the thick, dense fog. The windshield wipers worked furiously, trying vainly to clear my foster mom's vision. Paula, my foster mom, was not too incredibly happy about my being invited to Hogwarts.

I should probably mention that I had no idea I was Harry Potter's long-lost sister at this point.

"Ya know I'm glad you're goin' darlin', but I'm gonna miss ya a little. Well anywho, here we are at King's Cross Station. Remember, run straight at the barrier and don' be 'fraid. See ya next summer!" Paula drawled.
"Yeah, Paula! Um... well, thanks for, you know, er... taking care of me the past year. I... it was... fun." I finished with a sigh. To tell you the truth, a neat freak like me plus a slob like Paula didn't mix well.
"Youuuuuu betcha!" she hollered, drawing considerable attention to us and our beat-up Toyota.
"Um, yeah. Anyway, my... trunk?" In addition to messy, Paula also happened to be utterly forgetful.
"Oh! Yes." she reached for the backseat, on which sat my trunk, containing my FIREBOLT broomstick I got for my birthday, my wand, my cauldron, my robes, and on top of my trunk sat my most prized possession, Aleda, my messenger owl, sat in her cage, her head tucked under her wing like a swan, asleep. I picked the name Aleda because it meant "small and winged" in Latin. That, and the spell to turn someone into a bird was "Aledaeus".

The ride to Hogwarts was long but fascinating. I shared a compartment with a kid named Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor and the Famed Three, as they had come to be known: Ron, Hermione, and none other than the famous Harry Potter himself! As it turned out, Harry and I had a very similar past. We were both orphaned at the age of one by Voldemort. We both lived, but Voldemort had given us both scars, Harry's on his forehead, in the shape of lightning, mine on the inside of my wrist, in the shape of a heart.

When we arrived at Hogwarts, I was cramped but excited. Hagrid was very kind and lovable, but bumbling and oafish. I could tell he cared about me, because when I was telling him about my past, he kept blinking in amazement and giving me sideways glances. When I finished, he kindly informed me that Sorting had started.

Chapter 2

My turn came at last. I was so nervous. I sat down on the spindly-legged stool, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the sides of the stool as hard as I could. I put on the dirty, ragged hat and waited anxiously.

"A Parselmouth, I see! Don't get many of those very often." I heard the hat say in my head. What's a Parselmouth? After a long, tense pause he began again: "Do you know who you are?" I swallowed hard. "Veronica VanDyke. But VanDyke's not really my last name. It's my foster mom's." I replied sheepishly.

"Well, Victoria, you're not VanDyke. You, my friend, are Victoria Potter, sister of Harry Potter." He explained sagely. I was? Oh wow! This is awesome! "GRYFFINDOR!" he roared to the rest of the first years. Shaking with bewilderment, curiosity, but most of all, excitement, I walked over to the Gryffindor table to enjoy the feast. I took a seat next to Hermione Granger. "Hi, Hermione. Um, can I ask you something? It's a little bit... personal." Hermione, mouth full of chicken and bread, replied "Oh, sure, but if it's private we should probably wait until tonight. I'm so excited about us sharing a dormitory!"

Looking into the mirror that evening, before Hermione arrived, I saw my unmanageable raven ringlets, as usual, my round glasses covering my deep, magical (it seemed out of place to describe something normal as "magical" now that I knew I was a young witch) green eyes, as usual, and my heart-shaped scar on my wrist, as usual. But somehow, all these things seemed different, the kind of different like when you're moving and all the stuff, all the little trinkets, that made your room unique, are gone, and now there's just a bed and empty bookshelf left. The old house would never be as appreciated as much as the new house. Like the old me would never be appreciated as much as the new me.

Then I heard a door click and Hermione strode in, flinging herself on her bed. "Hey Veronica, what did you want to ask me at the feast?"

"Well, you know how Harry and I are... really alike? Like, creepily alike?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, turns out... I'm his..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. Do it, Veronica VanDyke Potter!

"Veronica?"

"I'm his sister."