CHAPTER ONE

The-Girl-Who-Lived-To-Be-Confuddled

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Daisy Dawson would like to say that the last thing she expected a Hogwarts letter to do was make her blink and frown in puzzlement, thank you very much.

The dark-haired girl lowered the letter to her lap, turning to the large, tawny owl resting on the windowsill. She raised her eyebrows at it and gave what was undoubtedly the most questioning stare that her ten-year-old self could ever muster.

Okay, so. A very important message had just referred to her as a Potter. Potter, not Dawson. Was there something that she was missing here? Something the bird was privy to, since all owls of wizarding Britain were trained to deliver its packages straight to its recipients? With or without an address? What was going on?

Unfortunately, the animal in question simply cast her one superior look and flapped away without so much as a parting hoot.

Charming.

With a shake of her head and a mental note not to provide treats to snobby birds, she tucked the yellowish parchment back into its envelope. She then flipped the thing over, giving the back portion another hopeful stare… darn it. She let out a soft whine of disappointment; the words written in emerald green ink did not magically change at the last minute. All she'd read was much of the same thing, which were the following:

Ms. D. Potter

Bedroom on the Second Floor

Magnolia Crescent

Little Whinging

Surrey

Admittedly, reading her name as Daisy Potter did had a nice ring to it. It would make a good alias, too, if she ever needed one. But then remained her primary concern.

The incorrect surname had struck her as a minor mistake at first. When her address had been so accurately put, it was very easy to overlook the error and move on to the meat of the matter. After all, someone from the Hogwarts faculty might have had a sense of humour. Maybe even an air of mischief. And should they be far too professional to indulge in a few laughs, then it was possible that a genuine mistake was made. Simple as that.

However, after reading the same surname twice…

Slipping out of bed and taking care to place the letter on the bedside table, Daisy had an idea as to what she could do next. She began heading towards the door—but then she stopped, and turned.

Outside, the sun was making its steady way down on the horizon, showering her tidy room in an orange glow. It seemed that the scorching hot star was ready to melt a different part of the world. But more importantly, its setting meant that nighttime was upon her, and along with it, insect invasions, the likes of which she'd only unleash on the nastiest of bullies, like Dudley Dursley at 4 Privet Drive—

The windows suddenly shut with a firm thud, making Daisy jump. Ghosts were the first thing that came to mind and she immediately grabbed a pencil to poke it with (she would wonder later why she did that), but then she stilled. And groaned.

Of course; how could she forget? Her magic was the culprit. As explained to her while growing up, accidental magic was often caused by emotional extremes. She'd been feeling particularly nasty towards the mean, pink beach ball.

Ahem. Moving on.

Anyway, there was only one person in the household that she could seek out. Someone who happened to have had her magical education at Hogwarts. Someone—and this was despite an odd decision to continue living a Muggle lifestyle—who was therefore the most experienced regarding these matters.

Mum. Also known as Olivia Dawson, the best person in the universe by virtue of singlehandedly raising a little girl without a single complaint. Subjectively speaking.

After all, if there was anyone who could explain why she was called Potter when the only person with that surname happened to be a child her age who attended the same primary school, was Dudley's cousin (how?), and kept attracting trouble for reasons ranging from the mundane to the extremely phenomenal (the rooftop incident came to mind), it was Mum.

Of course, the ten-year-old didn't count on the woman looking like she was about to face the executioner the moment the question was raised.

Mum had been lounging on the plush sitting room sofa, a book in hand and a small smile on her face. So the moment Daisy spotted her, the ten-year-old hesitated.

At first, one could easily assume that she was struck with nerves. Stiff posture, widened hazel eyes, and a constant twirling of the curls on her hair. But that wasn't quite it, not when there was a fine difference between facing a single person and facing a large, intimidating crowd.

It was just that whatever the chestnut-haired woman had been reading, it must be really enjoyable. Ruining that and possibly incurring a mother's wrath just wasn't on her list of things to accomplish today. In fact, it was quite tempting to just turn around and retreat to her room upstairs. Let her mother relax after a day of hard work in the shop that she helped her friend run.

…Except that meant saving the suspense for another day. Not to mention being a pansy, which she would always insist she wasn't. Had she not braved school the day after her ponytail was cut off by one of the gits in Dursley's gang, back when she was nine years old? Her hair did not magically regrow (with Mum deciding this was for the best) and she'd endured the ridicule for weeks.

Sigh. Stay she shall, then.

Daisy swallowed, plastered her grin on, and moved several steps forward.

"Hi, Mum!"

At first, there was no response, which was encouraging. All that could be heard was the sound of a car passing by, and if Daisy wasn't imagining it, also the sound of a woman a house or two away, yelling something about cheating husbands or kicking bastards or whatever adults liked to rant about. Nothing else had made itself audible, and thirty seconds later, Daisy took a step back. It was made apparent that her mission was a complete and utter failure.

"Daisy, pumpkin. I'll be with you in a moment; I'll die from the suspense if I don't finish this passage."

Oh. Never mind.

"Er, right."

The woman didn't bother with a response, and silence ensued once more. One seconds, two seconds, five. And finally, after ten seconds more, Mum nodded to herself and snapped her book shut. There was a bookmark at the page she'd stopped at, of course; doing otherwise was a crime against humanity.

"Done!" she said. She sat up and twisted her body towards her daughter with a sunny smile. "Now, what does my lovely Daisy need? If it's dinner, I'll get to it—I know I'm just as famished as you are."

In a most inopportune moment, Daisy's stomach grumbled as if to agree. She also might have salivated at the thought of steaming hot food, and she pinched herself in reprimand. None of that now. "Actually, I just wanted to let you know that I have finally received my letter." And, realising that she hadn't been specific enough, she added, "My Hogwarts letter. Surprise?"

She looked at her mother with an expectant smile.

This, here, was the part where the woman was expected to leap from the sofa and give her daughter a rib-crushing, suffocating embrace. There would be lots of cheering, possibly some dancing if either was so inclined, and most definitely a lot of hair-ruffling because, hooray, Daisy Dawson was well on her way to becoming a full-fledged witch.

Mum remained where she was.

In fact, it was as if she froze on the spot, like one of the statues Daisy sniggered at when she had this school trip to a museum last year. Frozen smile, frozen stare, frozen everything. Thankfully, she thawed soon enough.

"A-already?" Mum practically choked out.

"Already. It somewhat makes sense, considering when my birthday happens." She tilted her head. "Is something the matter?"

Mum quickly shook her head.

"No, no, nothing is absolutely wrong! I'm just surprised. In fact…" She then tore her gaze away from her daughter, considering her next words. The moment an idea struck her, which had taken all of one second, she brightened and clapped her hands. It was as if she hadn't been on the brink of a breakdown earlier. "We should celebrate! Not because we have to, but because we can. What do you say to a trip to the zoo tomorrow?"

"The zoo? Really?"

"Yes, the zoo! Don't look at me like that; zoos are perfectly good venues for celebrations."

"And your work?"

A scoff. "Please. What's one day of missing that? Cordelia is my partner for a reason."

Daisy stared at her mother as if she had suddenly grown an extra head.

For the record, the shop—so-fondly called The Witching Hour and was situated somewhere in London—had never been so casually dismissed before. The place would have been the woman's baby if her daughter never stepped into the picture, and whenever she had the chance, Mum would talk about the place with a dreamy look in her eyes. She even went so far as to regale the ten-year-old with colourful accounts of the various persons that entered the place. For the cosy little building to be dismissed, just like that…

The plot thickened. Basically.

However, her gut feeling informed her that pursuing that particular oddity right now would just result to something that wouldn't end well for both parties. Daisy shook her head and wisely took the answer in stride.

"Off to the zoo tomorrow, then." Now that that was done, it was time to move on to the reason why she was here. With clasped hands and a casual smile, she said, "Anyway, speaking of surprising acceptance letters, there's something odd about mi—"

"Oh!" Mum shot up from the sofa. The book on her lap went flying. "Sorry, pumpkin, might you hold that thought for now? I suddenly remembered that I needed something done."

"But—"

"We'll talk about whatever you meant to say as soon as I've sorted something out, I promise," Mum said. She flashed Daisy an apologetic smile and turned on her heel, disappearing with a faint crack.

Apparated.

Daisy stared at the now-empty space in front of the sofa for ten seconds and then sighed in defeat, dragging her fingers through her hair as she retreated to her room. So much for not saving the suspense for another day. Whatever Mum's reason was for the sudden exit, there was no fighting her. When she had that wild look in her grey eyes, any sorts of battle was a losing one.

There was, however, going to be a declaration of war if dinner didn't end up being served.

(It did, but it was an awkward affair.)

Daisy maintained that the zoo was still the last thing she would ever consider as a venue for fun and excitement.

For one, the place was filled to the brim with people. Everywhere she turned, there were families or groups of students standing about or watching the animals with fascination. The adults were chatty, the children were a constant switch between whiny and well-behaved, and weaving through those crowds had long stopped being a fun game. Sure, the ten-year-old had still found herself ooh-ing and ahh-ing at some particularly exotic animals, like those red pandas that kept rolling over everything that could be rolled over. But in the end, there was just something suffocating about being in the presence of so many people.

Additionally, even if she did try to enjoy herself ("You know, Mum, that gorilla over there reminds me of one of the children in school."), all the displays were hardly distracting enough to prevent her from thinking about the strange letter. She would have had better luck with theme parks. Messy as it sounded, vomiting all the food she'd inhaled before a roller coaster ride would have easily knocked away all other concerns.

Her entire impression of the impromptu trip was only exasperated further after she was pulled aside, only to be told that she was going to be left alone for a short while because something needed to be "sorted out" again.

"Mum, this is the second time this week," Daisy had said. Complained, really, but Mum was having none of that. The woman simply ruffled her hair and offered yet another apologetic smile.

"Sorry, pumpkin. This is the last time, I promise. I'll explain everything later," Mum said, and was gone.

It was a challenge to keep herself entertained after that.

Daisy stopped before the entrance to the reptile house, the latest place where her aimless wandering had taken her. Judging from the way the cool air tickled her face, this location would be a good refuge from the afternoon heat. It was dark inside, sure, but there seemed to some lit windows along the walls that not only displayed the animals in their scaly glory, but also let people—which were far lesser in numbers—see where they're going.

And if that wasn't great enough, there were lots of snakes. And lizards. Ooh, yes, she wouldn't pass up the chance to see them.

Before she could make her first step inside, though, she was roughly shoved aside.

"In here—I bet they have snakes so large they can swallow you whole!" said the large, flesh-coloured blob that blurred past her. It was only after waving her arms and regaining her balance that Daisy recognised the prat as Dudley Dursley. And he wasn't alone; his mum and dad were with him, along with a scrawny boy named Piers Polkiss and an even scrawnier one named…

She blinked. Harry Potter?

"Sorry about that," the boy, Potter, said to her. He'd clearly mistaken the shock on her face as that of being pushed instead of meeting a person least likely to be found outdoors.

Daisy and Harry weren't quite enemies in St. Grogory's, the primary school that they both attended, but they weren't quite friends, either. The only instance when they had a semblance of an acquaintanceship was whenever they were paired together for some class activities, alternating between school work and whispering about their mutual dislike of Dudley Dursley. They left each other well alone on all other times. Well, except for that moment when the hedgehog incident of January this year occurred. That resulted to the occasional exchange of glares in the hallway.

Today, however, it seemed that Potter was in a good mood. Look at him, acting all civil and apologetic. She supposed that she could do the same.

"May he never own a car when he grows older," Daisy said in response, sticking out her tongue out in the direction where Dursley went. "I can already imagine how well that would go."

His bright green, spectacled eyes lit up and a matching grin spread across his face. Scratch that; Potter was actually happy, for once. "I don't think I'd mind seeing that. At least just once."

"Hm, true. That would be quite the spectacle," she admitted. But then, just before she could say anything else, an odd thought occurred to her.

Over the years, Harry Potter has had a fair number of unexplainable incidents in school. While the most prominent of them all would be the time when he ended up stuck on the school kitchens' roof like a cat chased off by a rabid dog, without any usage of ladders, there were some other, minor ones that would pass off as a one-time strange occurrence to a Muggle, but qualify as accidental magic to a witch. Tomato sauce stains—courtesy of Dursley—that disappeared without a trace after lunch period. Broken pencils that repaired themselves. Frogs that most certainly did not originate from one's rucksack. And during one time, exploding sandwiches.

Those phenomenons were, in short, enough to prove that Potter was filled with magic like she was. And while she was willing to admit right now that her bursts of accidental magic were often concealed because of him being an unintended scapegoat…

Wouldn't Potter be getting a Hogwarts letter, too, then? And if he already had, would he be amenable to a discussion about the oddity of her letter? Possibly even joke about how she was now related to him?

She opened her mouth to speak—but then someone from within the reptile house yelled, "Harry Potter, you come here this instance!" and she winced. Now that, there, was a voice so shrill that a banshee could blush in embarrassment.

"I better go," Potter quickly said. He nodded at her and rushed inside.

"Wonderful conversation," Daisy muttered. She stared at the messy-haired boy's retreating back before shrugging and making her way inside. She did intend to enter the place before the Dursley family and their two tag-alongs came along. The difference now was that she was going to do so for a different reason.

It took her some time to find Potter again. The reptile house was large on the inside, and the scaly creatures of all shapes, colours, and sizes were just so distracting that she spent some minutes looking at them and reading the signs beside the glass. Some even perked up when she neared, and she must admit, it was great to be able to indulge in her fascination without being told by her fellow schoolmates that she was a girl and she therefore shouldn't like snakes or any other scaly creatures. Even after insisting that she would still pick a different animal as a pet at the end of the day.

Now, where was Potter… oh, there we go. The boy was currently with the family that reluctantly took him along, taking a gander at what must to be the largest snake in the place. The animal was long enough to wrap itself around both Mr. Dursley and his son and squeeze the meanness out of them. Wouldn't that be a sight to see! Alas, the snake was currently resting and refusing to be today's entertainment.

Growing bored, Dursley Jr. (or at this rate, beach ball junior) shuffled away to pursue more interesting reptiles, leaving Harry alone with the snake. A boa constrictor, the sign helpfully informed her.

Daisy ambled closer. The snake finally awoke from its slumber, opening its beady eyes and raising its head until it was directly level with the boy's. Then Potter, after looking from side to side to find out if anyone was watching (he would have spotted her if he looked directly behind him), did something Daisy couldn't see, and… started doing a series of hisses at the snake?

Hisses that made her eyes widen because she actually understood it.

It must really be annoying. Where do you come from, anyway? Was it nice there?

Daisy softly mimicked the sounds. She frowned soon after; the words she tried to repeat didn't sound anything like the ones Potter had just uttered. In fact, even if she knew what she wanted to say, the hisses simply sounded like hisses. It was not unlike the way a triangle would sound if it was struck several times. Not an ounce of language there.

Of course, before she could try to hiss even harder, she was shoved aside—again—and, as she flailed her arms about, met Piers Polkiss's triumphant, ratty smirk before he turned away and proceeded to call for Dudley and company. Said company waddled over like ducks—well, except for Mrs. Dursley, because only she had any sense in the family to maintain an ideal size and weight.

This time, she didn't quite manage to regain her balance. She fell flat on her behind, thought nasty thoughts of Polkiss (and Dursley, by extension) falling into the snake tank because falling down hurt, and the next thing she knew, there were several splashes and screams for help.

She looked up. There was Potter on the floor, gingerly rubbing his ribs and staring at the now-glassless tank. The two trolls that were supposed to be standing and annoying the snake were gone, and it did not require a maths genius to figure out where they ended up. For once, Daisy was glad that her accidental magic became good for something. Whether she or Potter caused the two to fall into the tank or the glass to disappear, however, was a mystery.

What she did know was that what happened next was utter pandemonium.

That was to say, utter pandemonium for the ones deathly afraid of long, scaly noodles. She was sure that the main highlight of the day was the snake snapping playfully at every heel that it came across and, at some point, slithering towards her with a hiss she understood as You're welcome, sticking its forked tongue at her, and finally parting with a mischievous wink. Potter's jaw had dropped so low that he'd catch flies without intending to.

"Don't look at me, Potter. You're the one who started talking to it," Daisy said to him with an amused grin.

In fact, the snake incident almost enough for her to forget why she came into the reptile house in the first place. She still managed to, in the end, but by the time that happened, her mother had fetched her from the zoo and drove her home.

The urge to bang her forehead against the window had never been so strong. No more Harry Potter to ask, just an evasive mother who made awkward conversations the entire trip home.

But then they finally reached their destination.

And that was when the figurative floodgates opened.

Daisy was made to sit on the sitting room sofa as her mother went upstairs to fetch something. The suspense was enough to murder her as she waited there, arms wrapped around a throw pillow and heart thudding against her chest.

It wasn't too late to decide that she didn't want to know what it was that she didn't. She could simply tell Mum that she could sort out the naming error in Hogwarts instead. That was where the acceptance letter came from, after all, and the people there were responsible for sending out those letters.

Everything would be all right in the end, she would finish her seven years of studying, and she would then be Daisy Dawson, full-fledged witch, at your service. She didn't have to sit here and die a slow death.

Of course, by the time she had any semblance of a decision, Mum finally came down. She had sat on the sofa in a matter of seconds, and in her hands was—a photograph?

"Here," Mum said, placing it on Daisy's own shaking ones. "This is why I kept leaving. Someone was keeping this safe for me."

The picture was definitely not of the Muggle variety, that was for certain. Nothing in it was static. And judging from the Christmas tree in the background, it was the holidays, and surrounding it were gifts of all shapes and sizes, as well as a smiling family of four that were strongly feeling the festivity in the air.

"I don't understand," Daisy said. She didn't recognise the people in the photograph at all. The bespectacled man who had messy hair and hazel eyes was a stranger to her, though the way he took hold of the baby girl's hand and waved it at the camera made the corner of her lips twitch. Then there was the woman, with vibrant red hair and stunning green eyes, sitting on the floor and embracing the baby boy whose eyes were staring at a particularly large gift. The woman gazed at him, laughed, and then looked back to the camera with a sunny smile. "Who are they?"

Mum leaned close to her and pointed to the family with a finger. "Well, that man over there is James Potter. Attended Hogwarts at the same time as his wife"—she pointed to the woman—"Lily Potter née Evans. Got married as soon as they graduated, and I am least surprised. It was such a dark time back then; there was no telling how long one could expect to live as the First Wizarding War carried on. Couples left and right were rushing into marriage." She then smiled wryly and said, "But as you can see here, despite all the fear in the air, the two lovebirds still managed to produce twins."

"I can see that," Daisy said. Her eyebrows furrowed. "But… if they're the Potters of Godric's Hollow, then that means they're the parents of The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Also known as Harry James Potter, the boy she attended school with. And quite honestly, there wasn't anything particularly awe-inspiring about him in person. Perhaps it was because she never experienced You-Know-Who's reign of terror first-hand and had difficulty grasping the fact that his downfall caused many a witch and wizard to collapse to their knees in relief and cry tears of joy, but she really couldn't see the boy as anything else but a sorry child raised and abused by his nasty relatives.

That's the saviour of wizarding Britain? Really?

Mum sobered, and she sighed. "Yes. And you already know what happened to them."

"You-Know-Who did. But if Harry Potter isn't an only child after all, then who"—she pointed a finger at the cooing girl—"is that?"

"One moment; I knew I was forgetting something." Mum stood up, whirled around, and disappeared with a crack, reappearing seconds later with a louder one. This time, she had what seemed to be newspapers that yellowed in age. She spread them all on the coffee table in front of them, and Daisy leaned forward.

Potter Twin Confirmed Dead: The-Boy-Who-Lived the Only Survivor, one headline read. Another read as Family of Four Reduced to One, detailing the events that resulted to Voldemort's (she swallowed at the name) downfall, and as Daisy turned to the final one on the right…

"Oh."

Daisy Elara Potter: The-Girl-Who-Could-Have-Been

She didn't bother reading the entire article.

"Everyone thought that she had died along with her parents," Mum said. Her voice softened. "But in reality, she was found dozing alongside her wailing brother, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. After much discussion, she was sent away to be raised with a different identity and by someone least connected to the wizarding world, but competent enough to defend her from harm. And as they say, the rest is history. But everything must come to an end, and that time is now."

All the puzzle pieces formed together, and all Daisy could do was stare in shock at her adoptive mother, whose guilt was written all over her face, clear as the day.

"I should have told you sooner. I'm so sorry," Mum said.

Her Hogwarts letter had not made a mistake, after all.

"I…" Daisy finally managed to say. "I think we're going to need ice cream. Loads of ice cream."

A/N: And that's a wrap! Thanks to the daily grind known as a full-time job, it's taken me a while to get this out into the open. But now it finally is, and all I can say is, yes, finally. Welcome to the life of Daisy Potter, and I hope that it'll be a wild one. I'm still planning how her first year will pan out (while making sure that she's in her own spotlight instead of taking over someone else's), but I've got some ideas so far. We'll see.

Faves, reviews, and follows are greatly accepted! English is not my first language and I have not written anything in a long, long while (not to mention that my book knowledge has gotten very rusty and researching could only help so much), but I like to think that I'm competent enough not to make too many mistakes. Just let me know what you think; every feedback helps!