Johanna Potter and the Marauder's Map Prologue: In Which I Introduce Myself
I barely even have any idea why I'm doing this.
I guess I just want you Harry Potter fans, the ones who are so loyal to my little brother's series that you are actually crazy enough to read a book written by Harry Potter's sister to know my side of the story, not just Harry's. Allow me to introduce myself. Johanna L. Potter (L. stands for Lily). I don't have a huge fanbase like Harry, my brother, does. Heck, I mostly just tag along to his heroic adventures. And try to help him escape the interviews which he loves oh so much (that was a joke, to you Percy types who wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of you wearing Dobby's tea cozy). But it's not fame I want.
I want—ah, but I shouldn't say, as it would be a spoiler for both Deathly Hallows and this wacko series. I did that on purpose, so you would wanna keep reading. MWAHAHAHAHAAA! Oh, and the tea cozy thing is from Goblet of Fire. It wasn't my idea. Enjoy!
Chapter One: In Which I Get A Big Surprise
The year was 1979, the month was November, the date was the 11th, the day was Thursday, and the time was 8:09. I was only 2 years, 1 month, 4 weeks, 1 day, 8 hours, and 9 minutes old, exactly. I had just woken up, and gone into the kitchen to find my father sitting at the little round table eating a bowl of cereal. "Hi Daddy," I said in my tiny little 2-year-old voice. "Where's Mummy?" "Mummy's going potty, Anna-Banana," explained Dad, scooping me up and plopping me down on his knee. Just then, Mum came into the kitchen with her right hand on her stomach, a weird Muggle gadget that looked like a fat white stick in her left hand, and a huge smile on her face. "James," she said, and held up the stick. I peered at it and saw that there was a tiny little screen on it, and that the tiny little screen had a tiny little plus sign. Of course, I was 2, so I had no clue what a plus sign was. Whatever it was, it seemed to be making my parents very happy indeed. "Oh, Lily..." Dad breathed, round hazel eyes (that were just like mine) shining. "What's that?" I demanded. They turned to me.
"Johanna," said Mum, brushing a strand of wavy dark-red hair (that was just like mine) out of her face, "it's called a pregnancy test, and it means you're gonna have a little brother or sister!" My eyes widened. Then I opened my mouth and squealed, jumping up and down with joy. The cat, Panther, raised her shiny black head and blinked her yellow eyes sleepily, awakened by me screaming my tiny head off. "I'M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER!" I shrieked. Scratch that, it's what I meant to shriek, but it just sounded like, "IGOBIABISDDERRRRR!" That day was one of my earliest best days. Dad and Mum left for work (they were Aurors), and Sirius came to baby-sit me for the day. That was how it worked back then. Mum, Dad, and Sirius were all Aurors. They went by twos, Mum and Dad some days, Dad and Sirius other days, and Mum and Sirius other days. I liked it when Sirius came. I liked him a lot. He called me "Prongs-ette." I thought that was absolutely hilarious, for some reason. Sirius and I couldn't stop talking about the baby. We chattered on about names, whether it was going to be a boy or a girl, and what the "special club" Sirius and my parents were in would think (the "special club" was the OotP, if you didn't know). "And what if it's a boy?" Sirius inquired. We had gone on about girls' names for a long time. I thought for a minute. "Daddy?" I suggested. Sirius laughed for 5 minutes after that. Being 2, I had no idea what was so funny.
I tried again."Joe?"
"Urgh."
"Billy?" "Yuck. How about 'Sirius?'" I giggled. "Sirius!"
He grinned. "What about Jack?"
"Nahh."
"Robert?"
"No way."
"Harry?"
"Yeah!"
"You're serious?"
"Nope, you are. I'm Johanna."
Sirius laughed. "You know what I mean."
We just sat there laughing for a while, until we heard the telltale crack, which meant that Mum and Dad were home. As we went into the kitchen to greet them, I spoke again. "You know, I do like Harry..."
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 8 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 18 hours, and 36 minutes had passed since the day I found out about the baby. I was now 3 years, 10 months, 2 weeks, 3 days, 18 hours, and 36 minutes old, exactly. The baby was a boy. He was going to be named Harry James. I was so happy that they actually liked the name I suggested. It was the 30th of July, 6:36 P.M. It was an absolutely flawless summer evening. We were sitting in the soft green grass of our backyard, listening to the crickets chirping and feeling the cool breeze on our skin. We were completely silent, letting summer do the talking.
Then suddenly, Mum pulled a pained face. "What's wrong Mummy?" I asked.
She ignored me, instead turning to Dad. "James," she whispered quaveringly. "I-I think it's time." Dad's eyes widened. "Time for what?" I wanted to know. Dad turned toward me. "Time to g-g-go have your little brother," he informed me just as shakily as Mum.
I was elated. "Really?" I breathed. I had been waiting for this for months. Well, we all had.
"Yes," Dad confirmed.
For a few seconds, I simply stood there. Then— "WOO-HOOOOOO!" I screeched, my shrill 3-year-old voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.
Dad grinned. "Calm down, Anna, calm down," he laughed, scooping me up and plopping me down on his arm. He turned to Mum. "We need to get to St. Mungo's," he told her. He drew his wand. "Expecto Patronum!'"
A silver stag leapt from the tip of his wand, then turned its magnificent head to stare quizzically at its caster. "To Sirius Black," Dad murmured to it. "The baby's coming." The Patronus then trotted across the yard, around the side of the house, and out of sight.