Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did things would have ended much differently.
Chapter 1
I'd always been interested in the supernatural. In my previous life I'd been immersed in Wicca, Feng Shui and many 'new age' hobbies.
So the concept of reincarnation wasn't new to me, granted I never expected to end up where I did.
Potter-verse
A fictitious universe where witches and wizards lived in a somewhat secret society alongside a world similar to our own. A universe where goblins, vampires and unicorns were real and not creatures of myth and fantasy.
For all my open mindedness I was hard to pushed to believe I had somehow landed in the Harry Potter universe. That I had died and been reborn didn't affect me as much as knowing I was the twin sister of the main character.
Jasmine Potter
A nice name, I'll admit. Much better than the one my former parents had saddled me with.
Of course the downside is I'd spend my new life with danger snapping at my heels.
I might not have been a huge fan. But I had watched read the books and watched the movies. Even if I hadn't liked the story all that much after the fourth book, I knew enough to get by without looking like a complete moron.
The only trouble was I was Harry's sister.
It didn't matter how much I might attempt separating the myself the storyline, as a Potter I was essentially doomed to get drawn into the whole life-threatening mess.
Voldemort would want me dead regardless of whether or not I actively opposed him- not that I in any way supported the nutter! The man was a sodding psychopath who tortured his own followers for fucksake! Let's not forget the wacko's contrary nature; his belief in ethnic cleansing, ignoring the fact he was technically one of the people with polluted blood.
There was no way I'd join his merry band of lunatics.
Which of course put me on the light side.
A joke to be sure. There was nothing particularly good about me.
I've never been a selfless individual. I fully admit the fact I am not a hero. I would much rather stand on the sidelines watching the idiots kill themselves, before picking up the pieces.
That's not to say I was a complete sociopath. I could and did care about others, but outside my small circle of family and friends I didn't really give a damn.
Cold-hearted. Probably, but no one's perfect.
…
My first year of life wasn't much to talk about. Even in a magical household, there wasn't much difference to the monotony of a infants life.
I'll admit the first few months were rough, my senses were totally skewed. Something I absolutely hated other than shitting myself was the need to depend on strangers.
As a newborn, my vision was atrocious, communication impossible. My fragile self was incapable of doing much other than crying or gurgling nonsensical syllables. My hearing was the only sense that remained reasonable. Once the birthing gunk had been removed and I was cocooned in a soft towel I was able to deduce my situation.
Surprisingly it was laughter that caught my notice.
"…Prongs fainted!" The man- I guessed by the tone- cackled with glee.
A sigh came from the weird blob- woman, mother?- above me.
"Will he be alright?" Another man questioned worriedly.
"Aw, Moony." The first voice whined. "Lighten up, he'll be fine. Bludgers hit him harder than that."
"That's not really reassuring, Sirius."
Wait, what?!
"Dear tiger lily, you wound me."
"I would if I had my wand."
Wand?
"Ouch, that hurts. Lily flower."
"Padfoot, you know that's my nickname for her." Another voice chipped in.
I'm dreaming right?
"James!" Three voices called.
"Bout time you woke up. Don't worry I took plenty of pictures, so your little ones will always be able to cherish the moment their daddy had an impromptu nap the day they were born." Sirius teased.
Judging by the following yelps and thuds, I guessed a short tussle broke out. It ended with a piercing wail- another baby?- from someone called Harry.
The creeping dread became pure panic as my new mother put me down and started cooing to my brother.
Harry Potter.
…
From that point on my mind was consumed with thoughts of hiding and/or running away.
The weeks, turned months blurred in and out of focus as I was fed and cleaned. I'll admit it's probably for the best I didn't spare much thought to the whole "I'm a helpless baby" situation and focused more on my upcoming future.
When I first arrived in this world I had worried if I would be able to do magic. Being born to two magical parents didn't ensure I'd have the ability like Harry. I hadn't had any powers in my previous life- hell I didn't really have any talents, I couldn't dance, sing, play an instrument or speak any foreign languages beyond a passable GCSE in Spanish. It would have been possible for me to be a completely normal person in this life also.
As my senses slowly- so slowly- returned, I took the initiative to speed up the process.
My true first act of magic was fixing my eyesight.
It hadn't exactly been planned and it took awhile to figure out what I'd accidentally done to myself. As Harry's twin I should by all rights have required glasses. So finding out my vision was perfectly clear was a surprise.
Ridiculous as it may sound I initially brushed the off as a natural phenomenon. Using knowledge from both lifetimes, I knew a baby's eyesight developed slowly. But given infants are incapable of talking, the unusual feeling I experienced might have technically been a perfectly normal stage in development.
All the babies I'd had looked after did seem to cry a lot and often for no known reason. So I chalked my experience off as a weird milestone.
My second- and believed first- magical act didn't occur till after my first birthday.
On the twenty fifth of September – just over a month till Tommy- boy paid a visit- I made myself a singing birthday cake.
I wasn't too sure how I did it. All I can recall, is that I was feeling melancholy about my previous life and that the day I considered my real birthday would pass by as any regular day- which is kinda ironic given I hadn't been keen on birthday celebrations before.
I didn't want to be cooped up inside Godric's Hollow, watching my mother cook or my father play with Harry and attempt to entice me into joining their games.
I was pretty sure I was a bit of a disappointment to Lily and James. I couldn't bring myself to act like a normal child. I was unusually quiet and rarely sought their affection the way my brother did.
I didn't cry for their attention. In fact, aside from having my nappy changed or hunger to be satiated I didn't interact with them often.
It was hard enough calling them mum and dad. Each time it felt like a betrayal to my former parents whenever I referred to Lily and James as such. With the knowledge that they'd die soon I wasn't encouraged to bond with them either, no matter how loving they were.
I wanted my real family.
Part of me- an unfortunately large part- was bitter about dying so young. The fact I'd shafted into another life where I'd be forced to live my second childhood looking over my shoulder on a constant basis didn't help matters.
As much I wanted magical powers, I was in no way prepared for all the problems and disasters that would come with it.
At that moment in time I wished fervently for my old life. I wanted my parents. I wanted my old friends. I wanted to celebrate my birthday! A night out to celebrate with booze and decadent chocolate cak…
Poof!
"Happy Birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…"
I blinked at the dessert in front of me while the candles sung on- thankfully they were the same candles that appeared on the cake when Harry and I shared a birthday in July so they didn't say my real name. Though I have no idea where the cake came from.
"Happy birthday dear Jasmine and Harry. Happy birthday to you."
I snorted before bursting into laughter.
Guess I'm going to Hogwarts.
…
Halloween had always been my favourite holiday. The chance to dress up and get gifted candy by neighbours had been a wonderful experience. Coming from a poor working class background I'd rarely enjoyed the opportunity for sweet treats. A ten pence mix or a small ice cream had been the equivalent to manna from heaven when I was five.
So Halloween trumped Christmas- when I'd get laden with 'useful' gifts like clothes- in my mind.
Knowing that tonight wouldn't end even half as nicely made me curse the snake bastard even more.
How dare that fucker ruin my favourite holiday!
As the day wore on I got even more irritable. In the end my parents put me to bed early, hoping that my current mood would alleviate after a nap.
In a move that surprised even myself I clung to my mother as she went to pull away.
I was scared.
For all the effort I'd maintained in appearing apathetic, I couldn't prevent the need for comfort. While I claimed Lily and James weren't my real parents, I didn't want them dead. Tonight, presuming I survived- and wasn't that a lovely thought!- I'd be orphaned.
I would spend at least ten years with the Dursleys- people that would hate me for my new magical powers- and I had no doubt they wouldn't care for me as wonderfully as the Potters had.
As the younger sister of the 'boy who lived' Harry would undoubtedly be labelled my caretaker at some point. While my twin might technically be older than me, mentally I was the adult.
I couldn't expect him to look out for me, even if society seemed inclined to suggest such a thing. No, I'd have to be responsible for both of us.
A truly frightening concept. Me, a guardian? Even if it was a normal child, one without a supposed destiny, I didn't think I could do it.
I wasn't parent material. At least I didn't think I was. From what I understood a good parent had to be selfless and put the wants and needs of a kid before their own.
I couldn't do that. That frame of mind didn't exist within me.
It had been selfishness that had tempted me to prevent the deaths of James and Lily Potter.
On Harry's birthday I had tried to out Peter. When that failed I tried to speak. In desperation I wanted to scream that Peter was a death eater. I had squirmed and cried whenever he came near me. Hoping that acting out would draw attention, would make them wonder why I didn't like the man. Instead I put to bed early, just like today.
Although my hearing and vision had been restored. Walking and talking were still beyond me. I was ashamed with myself and my lack of progress. While I could manage a few wobbly steps I'd inevitably end up on my backside before I could cross a room. Talking was still impossible, it didn't matter how hard I tried, words just wouldn't form.
In frustration I started crying. My mother attempting to sooth me started to sing a nursery rhyme. It worked well, against my will I could feel my small body relaxing. Enclosed in her arms I was safe. The warmth, the sound of her heartbeat alongside her soft voice and the scent of roses from her perfume made sleepy.
My eyes blinked slowly as I fell into a light doze. I could vaguely make out the feeling of her pulling away as she placed me into the crib.
That was the last time I saw her or my father.
…
If I had been on ordinary child I would have never known that the story the Dursley's told Harry and I wasn't real.
I only know what happened because of my previous life. The books and movies that Rowling had produced told me what really occurred that Halloween.
I didn't exactly know what had happened that night despite the fact I'd been present in Godric's Hollow. I awoke from my nap in pain and to a strange woman removing bandages from my head.
It seemed the magical backlash which destroyed Voldemort's body- and subsequently part of the house had caused me to get concussed when the ceiling fell through.
I knew immediately magic had saved me- most likely Lily's final protection given I'd been asleep- an ordinary child would have been killed instantly from the blow I received.
As thankful as I was to be alive I wasn't happy knowing what was coming.
When Hagrid appeared, I discovered the woman looking after me was Poppy Pomfrey. In his booming voice- I winced at the pain- he announced that he would be taking Harry and I to Dumbledore. Pomfrey tutted even though she handed me over to the giant.
Crossing the room I saw her pick up a sleeping Harry. Swaddling him in an extra blanket before flicking her wand and muttering an incantation, from the surge of warmth I felt When she repeated it on me I guessed it was a warming charm.
"That charm will wear off in a few hours so make sure they are wrapped up tight. If they don't reach their destination before midnight make sure Dumbledore reapplies it. The night air can be cold in summer. This far north, they could catch a terrible chill in November. If they were older I'd recommend a port key to travel. Are you certain that…contraption is safe?"
"Sure it is. I used it ta' get 'em 'ere." Hagrid said as he carried me down a flight of stairs. I looked around awe as it became clear just where I was.
Hogwarts.
"Don' you worry, Jasmine. You'll see it 'gain when y'ere older. Bet you'll make a cracking witch."
I couldn't see everything with it being so dark, but what I could make out from the darkness was amazing.
The majority of the portraits snored as we went past. A couple shushed Hagrid when his voice disturbed their rest. One portrait that stood out amongst all others was one I recognised from the movies. The fat lady.
She looked nothing like Dawn French who portrayed her in Prisoner of Azkaban. Instead she looked closer in appearance to the woman in the first movie.
A bit disappointing, to be truthful. As I liked the idea of a doppelgänger comedian running around and inevitably driving Gryffindors crazy with her late night strolls.
I also caught a brief glimpse of the main hall as we headed towards the entrance- at least I think it was, the doors were closed. Sir Nicholas also floated by but didn't stop to speak with us.
Getting sequestered into the side car with Harry, nurse Pomfrey fussed over us. She checked several times that neither me or twin could roll out and that we were adequately covered against the cold night air- she wasn't wrong about the temperature, even with the spell in place I wanted to hide my face in the blankets.
I felt terrified when Hagrid took off, the brief moment of weightlessness combined with the breeze that fluttered my hair made me all to aware of what could happen if I didn't stay still. For all the Pomfrey had checked we couldn't roll out I had an awful feeling she hadn't expected us to move.
As dazed as I was, I was still capable of squirming. Harry might be asleep but who's to say he would wake up? If agitated enough I had no doubt either me or my twin could fall to our deaths. Honestly, Dumbledore should have just apparated us to Privet Drive himself. I had a feeling it would be a great deal safer than flying miles above the Earth without even a sodding seatbelt holding us in!
While the flight wasn't eventful- it was beautiful seeing the stars so clearly- the landing did jar me. I'm pretty sure Hagrid had no license to drive a normal motorcycle, let alone a flying one. We touched down hard and I was so relieved when we came to a complete stop.
I closed my eyes as Hagrid stood. Now that there was solid ground beneath me once more I could relax a little knowing I would be facing anymore life threatening experiences for another ten years.
The fact I didn't want to meet the old goat was another factor. I was never quite sure how to catalog Dumbledore- whether he was an old grandfather type man prone to mistakes or a delusional, manipulative old coot with his constant "greater good".
Either way I didn't want to see him. I'd lucked out when he missed mine and Harry's birthday and while he had paid a visit at some point to collect the invisibility cloak I hadn't been awake at the time.
Hearing McGonagall announce the Dursley's were "the worst sort of muggles imaginable" didn't reassure me.
Neither did the fact Dumbledore forgot about the warming charm. Well, technically that was Hagrid but still…
The cold wasn't pleasant and I was more than a little envious my brother could sleep so soundly.
While I did manage to eventually drift off, I wasn't asleep for long. A ear-splitting screech and sound of glass shattering woke me.
Hello, Aunt Petunia.
…
Emerald green eyes, framed with thick black lashes reflected back from the mirror.
Today was 'the' day, July 24th to be precise.
When the post arrived there would be two extra letters.
One would be for me, and one for Harry.
Hogwarts
I was tempted to grab the post myself. Unfortunately there was no guarantee that the 'story' would continue as normal if I did.
Don't misunderstand; I had no intention of 'complying' with the whole mess. But I needed it to be Hagrid who picked us up.
The gentle giant would be the least likely to suspect me of scheming a successful attempt of escaping the Dursley's for the rest of this summer.
I slathered toothpaste on my toothbrush.
I planned to be fully independent. To accomplish this I needed to access to Gringotts. The money that was in the vault would be the solution to many problems. I had no idea if Dumbledore would be able to monitor the account. The first trip to the wizarding bank would require me to withdraw a large amount of galleons. If the account was monitored then Dumbledore would notice if I made more than one withdrawal. Regular transactions would cause suspicion, given Petunia's reaction to anything 'freakish' there was no way she'd let Harry and/or I take regular trips to Diagon Alley.
Using cash wouldn't leave a paper trail.
Brushing my teeth, I mulled over how much time Harry and I would have to ourselves when Hagrid would require a drink after the Gringotts cart ride. It couldn't be much more than thirty minutes. I would have to act quickly in order to get everything I needed.
I would need to separate from Harry immediately after the giant left us. Whilst I'd grown to love my new sibling I didn't trust him not to ask questions, or keep the information given secret. It wasn't that Harry wasn't trustworthy; he was. But he was an open book to any witch or wizard with basic knowledge of legimency. Given that Snape and Dumbledore were so advanced in the subject, any secrets I gave Harry would instantly be plucked from his brain.
If Harry had no idea what I was doing, then the information wouldn't accidently slip. Leaving Harry alone to conduct my business was the best option. This way I could acquire certain items of interest and ask questions, granted I already had a decent knowledge of the magical world but I'd require an alibi for knowing those things. I wouldn't be able to explain knowing how Floo works or how to call the Knight Bus without drawing interest. By being inquisitive, and making a point of searching for answers I'd draw less attention to how I gained my knowledge.
Not that I wouldn't be buying plenty of books anyway. Aside from lack of internet to keep me entertained these would be 'actual' magic books. Another point was that knowledge was power and given there was a dark lord after Harry and I –I hadn't vanquished the bastard personally, but being one of the 'twins who lived' meant he'd be out for my blood- I'd need all the help available.
Aside from books, I'd have to glance at the schools charter. Quills might look nice but they splattered ink alarmingly. I fully intended to use muggle alternatives wherever available –fountain pens would be useful, given they gave the impression without the trouble of dipping repeatedly into an inkwell.
I spat into the sink and rinsed.
Mental checklist complete I snuck back into the bedroom –not the cupboard- I'd shared with Harry for the past seven years.
Whereas in the book Harry had spent the better part of a decade inside the cupboard under the stairs years -and would have likely done the same if I didn't exist- the Dursley's had reluctantly moved us into what had been Dudley's second bedroom.
Although they'd used the excuse that the cupboard was no longer big enough to fit both of us; I'm sure it had more to do with a teacher visiting after I'd dropped a few comments to the Dursleys about nursery and they couldn't call cupboard a cupboard "Teacher says it's wrong we sleep in a bedroom not a cupboard" and "Says she might pay a visit". Harry and I were moved upstairs the next day.
Dudley had to be calmed down with cake and ice-cream. He had not wanted to give up the room. Vernon and Petunia had also appealed to his ego by saying it was a baby's room and he was five, a big boy- I'd snorted at that- surely he didn't want a baby's room. Luckily it had worked, Dudley surrendered the room claiming that we- Harry and I - were babies and could have it.
Other than living arrangements, nothing about the situation seemed to differ too much from the original plot. The Dursley family completely abhorred 'freakishness'. They persistently clung to the ideal of normal.
Any occasion Harry and I erred from this ideal, we were locked in our room. They had at first used the cupboard but it eventually did get to small to fit us both.
Speaking of accidental magic the boa incident at the zoo never happened. Whilst Dudley's birthday had required Harry and me to join the trip to the zoo, I had managed to get the Petunia to let us wander separately; it made the experience more enjoyable for everyone.
When we entered the reptile house after Dudley had proclaimed the animals boring, and dragged his parents away to see the lions. Harry was able to have conversations with the snakes without drawing the Dursley's ire. Given I wasn't a parselmouth I didn't understand a word they were saying and had to ask for translations.
The ability to talk to snakes was very impressive; I was actually envious of Harry's linguistic skill to communicate with the serpents. Talking to a female king cobra was a highlight of the trip.
As we avoided the vanishing glass mess, Harry and I weren't locked up till the summer holidays started. Most of the time was spent in the local library. Given Dudley and his gang had little interest in books it was the only place they didn't visit. It was a sanctuary for both me and my little brother. The one place that bullies never bothered us.
Or more accurately bothered Harry. My brother attempted to run away whenever Dudley and his pals decided to pick on him. They had originally tried to do the same to me. Unfortunately for them I already had experience dealing with brutes like them.
I'd spent most of my previous life being bullied. In the past I'd attempted to ignore them, when that hadn't worked I'd tried to tell an adult. Whilst my parents and teachers had done their best to stop the problem it never worked. As soon as an adult walked away I'd again be at the mercy of whoever decided I fit the 'weakling' category.
No, I'd learned how to deal with bullies - pain. It was the only method I'd never resorted to before; I'd always been too afraid; too afraid of breaking rules, too afraid that I'd be in trouble for defending myself.
It was one of my biggest regrets. I'd never stood up for myself. Being bullied so frequently meant I'd missed class. Whenever it was time to get ready for school I'd feel sick. There wasn't anything physically wrong. I didn't suffer from any ailments that required antibiotics and bed rest. It was psychological.
My final year of high school had a less than sixty four percent attendance record. Although I managed to get eight grade 'C' GCSE's I would have achieved higher marks if I'd actually attended school. I'll never be able to undo that part of my life. I damaged my future to avoid a bunch of assholes. Looking back, even now, I wished I'd had the courage to hit them. To say, "Fuck you!"
It was a mistake I wasn't about to make in this life. When Dudley had attempted to push me around, I pushed back. When he tried to beat me up, I hit and kicked back -usually between the legs.
Adults disapproved of my actions; the whole "Tell a teacher" crap was repeated when I argued I was the victim. They disliked my response of "What good is that? Ok, you punish him, give him detention. Prison doesn't cure criminals, it just teaches them not to get caught."
As a result I often was the one to get detention.
Or at least I did until I changed schools. Fed up with the situation, I played the stunted genius. The one, physiologists say act out, out of boredom. Well I suppose it wasn't a complete lie. Primary school was dull. Given I'd managed to graduate university with an honour's degree, relearning my ABC's could be done with my eyes shut.
I swiped a test paper for sixth graders and proceeded to answer it in front of my teacher.
Thinking it was a joke, that I somehow managed to memorize the answers she'd laughed it off, until I did it again with a different test.
She took it to the Head-teacher who ordered an official test. I aced it.
Within a week, I tested out of primary school and into high school. It might have gone further if I hadn't been stumped with trigonometry. Although I was good at maths I'd always struggled to remember the rules that applied to the subject. Damn it.
Still it was an impressive leap. As it stood I'd be finished with comprehensive muggle school just before I started Hogwarts.
The Dursleys hadn't been pleased. Dudley had thrown a tantrum; he'd wanted to advance years ahead also. Vernon had argued, in the spirit of fairness that I wasn't the only one tested. As a result Harry had also been included in the intelligence testing. At the end it had left the Dursley's thoroughly embarrassed. Harry whilst not reaching my level had managed to test up two years- this may have been due to the fact I'd been teaching him to read and write since potty training. Dudley failed spectacularly, he was actually below standard for his age group as most children in our class could read simple sentences and count to twenty.
As soon as we got back to Privet Drive, he'd bellowed at Harry and me for being smarter than his son. We were grounded for three months.
Although the Dursley's never beat us, that didn't mean they were anything close to nurturing. Harry and I only advanced with our guardians' permission because of neighbourhood gossip. It wouldn't do for such charitable people as the Dursleys to neglect their talented niece and nephew.
If only they knew!
…
Given that I was so special, I was the priority. Vernon and Petunia managed to find a private school which offered what could equate to a scholarship. It was a rare find, all the more tempting as the Dursleys' couldn't/wouldn't go beyond a modest budget. Also the fact that it was a girl's catholic school and the biblical quote 'shalt not suffer a witch' played some part I'm sure.
Harry was no where near as lucky. As he only managed to test up two years he was still in primary school. Petunia told the neighbours it was because they didn't want to divide the family. If Harry left primary school, Dudley would be on his own. Also Harry was still on the lower school curriculum it made little sense to send him to a new school when he could just join a class with the seven to eight year olds.
Another benefit of going to a different school –one a bit further away- was that the Dursley's had to provide me with travel money. Vernon refused to get up an hour earlier just to take me to school. So I was given just enough money to take the bus, which dropped me just a ten minute walk away. What my aunt and uncle were unaware of was that I earlier bus than required and got off a few stops earlier to save money.
Alongside the savings I made, I also supplemented my income with the spare change found in Vernon's and Dudley's pockets on laundry day or checking under the cushions of the sofa and chairs. It astounded me how much money the Dursley's practically threw away. It was common for me to have collected nearly twenty pounds every week.
At first I stored the money underneath a loose floorboard in mine and Harry's room. Unfortunately this was only a temporary solution. Given I knew Harry would discover my hiding space at some point in the future- despite the fact neither of us had many possessions to clutter our room Petunia ordered us to clean the room at least once a week. It was necessary to get a bank account, it wasn't easy, being a child I needed a adult to sign the papers. I also had to get a post box for the bank letters to be delivered to. It wouldn't do to have the Dursleys to find an official letter addressed to me from Barclays bank. I could only imagine their reaction to me having a private savings account –the fact the money was obtained though less than honest means would only make it worse.
I got one of the older girls at school to help me. While most of the pupils came from rich and well to do backgrounds, there were a few that were in the same boat as me. One of them -Jennifer- was in social care. She understood what it was like to have a crappy family and covered for me when we went to the bank. With her acting as my pseudo guardian- I'd been able to rent a post box and open a bank account. I didn't put all my money in the bank however. While I didn't need an adult to deposit money I would need one to make a withdrawal. Instead I stored my extra money as well as my account book in the post box. It was risky, I admit. There was no guarantee that someone wouldn't break into it or my things would be there if whenever it was opened to insert my post. But, I figured a stranger would be better than Harry or the Dursley's finding them.
Harry would question me about it, he'd never approve of my actions despite how poorly we were treated. Although I'd managed to make him less disapproving of my thievery where food was concerned – I'd often swipe crisps and biscuits from the kitchen to share with him- he wouldn't tolerate money. He had morals in spite of lousy role-models and his beliefs would compel him to stop me even if it meant getting me in trouble.
Harry's sense of wrong and right was just another reason to hide my schemes from him. Dumbledore had been able to manipulate Harry into certain situations easily knowing my brother would follow the 'right' path in the end. Maybe during fifth year I'd be able to persuade Harry that the Headmaster wasn't the all-knowing bastard he passed himself as.
Glancing at the little alarm clock on the bedside table that sat between the twin beds I saw it was a little after ten in the morning. Petunia would be up shortly, during the holidays the Dursley's only slept in on the Weekends as Vernon still had to be at work at nine. Today was Saturday so it allowed for an extra hour or two in bed. A slight downside was that Harry and I would be required to make a cooked breakfast. Most of which we wouldn't get to sample.
Deciding to avoid the shrill voice of aunty dearest I woke Harry up myself. He let out a quiet moan as I shook his shoulder, turning and burying his head deeper into the poor excuse for a pillow.
"Harry, Harry it's time to get up."
"Mmm, what?" he asked sleepily as I shook him again.
"Up" I pressed "You need to get up. Petunia will be up soon. Do you want her to yell at us? "
Harry groaned as he sat up, putting on his glasses he blinked as the time on the clock came into focus.
Muttering he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom taking a change of clothes with him. While Harry got dressed I puttered around the bedroom. I had a small pile of books that I needed to return to the library. It was a small concession granted to me, being smarter than most children my age I'd been allowed by the Dursley's to visit the local library provided I still completed my chores. I took advantage of the opportunity to escape from Privet Drive almost daily. I also managed to drag Harry along for most of the visits. I wondered if Harry would be sorted into Ravenclaw given he'd developed a love of books alongside me.
Considering the first Hogwarts letter would arrive today it might be the last opportunity to return the books without risking a fine for them being overdue.
I was once again thankful that the thought of being non-magical didn't last long. Aside from my eyesight which could have been natural and the incident with the birthday cake which could have been Harry or my father trying to make me happy- both unlikely but the thought did occur- it hadn't been to long after being dumped at the Dursley's I managed another magical feat.
Harry and I had been left alone for most of the day- Petunia only deigned to check on us three times a day. I'd been left to suffer a dirty nappy for over an hour – crying hadn't brought any notice – being uncomfortable I'd done my best to ignore the feeling. Miserable I'd started to wish I could wriggle free. I wanted to be clean.
It happened faster than I could comprehend. One moment I was enduring the disgusting feeling of my bodily waste clinging to skin, the next thing I knew the nappy was gone!
I had no idea where it went. When Petunia came to check on me later she was stunned to find me without a nappy. My clothing was still intact so I hadn't wriggled out of it. The answer was obvious; it upset her greatly to have proof I wasn't normal and she spent most of the night trying to find out where I'd banished the nappy to.
Watching her search the room top to bottom was hilarious. It was petty, I know. But I found it very enjoyable to see her so out of sorts. It was only fair considering she'd made me feel so uncomfortable earlier.
Knowing I was a witch was a blessing and a curse. Being magical I meant I could escape the Dursleys, I could go to Hogwarts and learn real magic. Downside was I knew being Harry's twin I'd have a target on my back. Even if I managed to avoid getting involved in Harry's adventures, Voldemort would still want me dead. Granted being a muggle would still place me on his hit list, the only difference was I'd be better able to protect myself and Harry.
I'd never had a younger sibling in my previous life, while I'd been my mother's only child I had been the youngest of my father's four children. Growing up I often wished to be an older sister rather than being the baby of the family. I hadn't realized at the time what pain my words had caused. My mother had never being particularly healthy and had struggled greatly whilst pregnant with me. She had needed a hysterectomy shortly after birthing me. It was impossible for me to have a baby brother or sister.
Maybe that was why I'd been reborn in this world. I mused as I stuffed the books into a backpack.
"I'm dressed." Harry announced re-entering the room.
Turning I saw Harry now dressed in one of Dudley's hand-me-downs, attempting to comb his hair. I rolled my eyes before plucking the comb from his hands, I motioned towards the bed. I doubted a professional hairdresser would be to control that mop. Once he was sat I did my best to reign in the 'rolled out of bed' look. It would be some years before that fashion became popular.
It took several brushes before Harry's hair appeared less unkempt. Although it wouldn't last long, Petunia was less likely to nag about us being un-presentable in public.
She really should focus on her son and husband.
Giving Harry a quick look over, I set the comb back down and picked up my bag. Together we headed downstairs to get breakfast ready.
Let the chaos commence.
Edited 01/11/2015
thankyou to Nee339 for pointing out that little error.