The time for reconsideration was gone. Before, they could have chosen any moment to turn back. They could have decided that they weren't meant to stop the Philosopher's Stone from being stolen and utilized. Unquestionably, they had each pondered what implications their actions would have. There were countless reasons for fear and doubt, but none of them seemed to matter much compared to what would inevitably happen if Nicolas Flamel's greatest work fell into the hands of Lord Voldemort. Their choice to risk death paled in comparison to the guaranteed death they would have received through Severus Snape's success. Their bravery was undeniable, but it was foolhardy to believe that they did not tremble in the face of probable demise. Be that as it may, each of the four adolescents knew that it was the time for action. On the outside, it would indeed seem as though such young people would have nothing to fight for, but the truth was that they had everything to fight for. Their existences—their livelihoods—and the lives of those they cared for most, were at stake. Ron and Aralynn were fighting for their family—for The Burrow—even for themselves. Hermione Granger was fighting for her education—for her future—for her friends… and Harry Potter? Harry Potter was fighting for Hogwarts—for hope that he could one day leave the Dursleys—for his friends. None of what they cared for would remain if the Philosopher's Stone was lost.

Harry Potter and Aralynn Weasley were both hyperaware of this as they slowly entered the large chamber ahead; one step at a time. As they reached the bottom of the stairs together, hand-in-hand, they could see the man they had been hunting all this time. He was alone in the chamber—aside from a large, ornate mirror. Aralynn recognized it as the Mirror of Erised. However, the man wasn't Professor Snape; nor was he even Lord Voldemort. The man eyeing his own reflection, was someone who they had been rooting for since Christmas—Quirinus Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Harry and Aralynn were both in a state of shock. They were even considering whether the sight before them was some kind of glamor. It was impossible that the culprit all along had been Professor Quirrell… for he seemed too feeble, too frightened of his own shadow. To think that this man, all along, was a great evil? Unthinkable.

When Quirrell saw Harry and Aralynn appear in the mirror's glass, he turned around to face them. "I've been expecting you," he said. "Harry, anyway. Yet, Aralynn, your presence is a pleasant twist."

Harry Potter shook his head so aggressively that Aralynn was sure his brains would come pouring from his ears. "No," he said. "It can't be you. There's no way! Professor Snape—"

Quirrell laughed loudly, a laugh that chilled Aralynn to her bones. "Snape? I can't say I'm surprised you would think that. He seems quite the criminal, doesn't he? The way he swoops around like a rabid bat… No – you and your little friends were wrong. All this time, Snape has been trying to stop me."

"Stop you?" asked Harry incredulously. "But Snape tried to kill me. During my first Quidditch match!"

Again, Quirrell snickered. "No, Harry. Snape didn't try to kill you. That was my doing. I likely would have succeeded, too. I was so close to throwing you off that broom, but then Miss Granger came barreling in to save the day. She knocked me aside when she was going to light Snape's cloak on fire. My eye contact with you broke. Seems silly, now. All that time Snape spent muttering his little countercurse… and for what? Only for me to kill you here—now."

Aralynn looked over to Harry. He didn't seem to know what to say.

"Why would Snape want to save me? He hates me."

"Why do you think he chose to referee your next Quidditch match, Potter? He wanted to make sure that nothing more would be done to you. He had already been suspicious of me after I let that troll into the school on Halloween. From that moment, he would never give me a moment's peace. He kept an annoyingly close eye on me." With a snap of his fingers, ropes wrapped around Harry and Aralynn's bodies. They tried to fight them, but they couldn't break free. "Enough talk."

Aralynn watched Quirrell stare ravenously at his reflection. He even reached out to touch the mirror, cursing under his breath when he was stopped by glass. She looked over to Harry, who appeared to be feeling helpless. She only wished that she could reach out and comfort him.

"This is Dumbledore's doing," said Quirrell. "It must be. The mirror is undoubtedly the key to finding the Stone, but how? The only thing I must do is figure out the riddle."

Harry and Aralynn knew that they had to keep Quirrell's attention off the mirror. They needed to buy time before he figured out how to access the Stone. "The Stone is for Voldemort, isn't it?" asked Aralynn.

Quirrell turned sharply. "You dare say his name?"

Aralynn stared defiantly at him. "The Philosopher's Stone grants the user immortality. You're trying to get it for him so that he can come back, and never die, aren't you?"

"Clever girl," sneered the man. "I have been trying to find ways to bring him back to power for quite some time. Only, I kept failing. He was rather disappointed in me. Until I found out about the Stone, that is. It was his only chance for rejuvenation. I had to get it for him."

Harry struggled with his binds while Aralynn spoke. However, it didn't seem to be working. Whatever enchantment held them had to be quite powerful. Quirrell had faced the mirror again. He circled it a few times, trying to discern whether there was some hidden door in the frame. He stopped before the glass again, shaking his head. "Of course, Dumbledore's trick would be the most elaborate. He just had to make it exceedingly difficult, didn't he? Well, not to worry. I'll figure it out, and once I have the Stone, I'll kill you both and run. I have plenty of time to escape while he's away in London."

Harry was trying to think of something else to distract Quirrell. "I saw you and Snape arguing in the Dark Forest."

Quirrell waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, well, he was hounding me by that time. He wanted to know how far I'd gotten in my mission. He thought he could scare me into confession, but that was idiotic of him. How could he think I would be afraid of him? When I have someone as powerful as Lord Voldemort behind me?"

"Maybe because light always overpowers darkness," said Aralynn while trying her best to reach her wand. She was so close, but she couldn't lift her shoulder high enough to grab the base of it.

Quirrell, however, had ignored her. He was tapping the glass thoughtfully. "I can see myself in the reflection. I am presenting the Stone to my master, but how do I get it?" He turned to look at them. "Do you know how to work this confounded mirror?"

They didn't answer him. Instead, Harry posed a distraction. "Snape seems to hate me so much for someone who wasn't trying to kill me."

Quirrell scoffed. "Oh, don't be fooled. Snape does hate you. He went to school with your father." He gestured to both of them. Aralynn's eyes narrowed. "They despised each other. He sees too much of your father in you, and that's why he hates you. Enough to want you dead, though? No."

Aralynn was about to speak before Harry interrupted her. "I've seen you getting worse over time," he said. "The closer Snape got, the sicker you looked. I heard you the other day—you were in a classroom. You were crying."

The statement seemed to trigger Quirrell. For the first time since they had come to confront him, he looked genuinely afraid. He fiddled with his hands nervously. "Yes, well… Sometimes my master gives me difficult tasks. I am weak, and he is powerful. I struggle to follow his instruction on occasion."

Harry went pale. "He was there? He was at Hogwarts? In the classroom?"

The man turned back to the mirror. His eyes flickered to the purple turban wrapped around his head. "My master is always near. I was young when we met. Young and foolish—too idealistic for my own good. I had the wrong thoughts about the dichotomy of good and evil. Yes, but he helped me. He showed me the truth. There is no good or evil, Potter. That's something he taught me. There is only power. Power—and those too weak to seek it. He has trusted me to fulfill his wishes, but I failed when it came to procuring the Stone from Gringotts. He saw it fit to punish me. He had to keep a closer eye on me to make sure that I didn't fail again. He was right for that."

The way Quirrell was holding himself told Aralynn that he was afraid of Voldemort. The awkward shifting; the fiddling of his hands; the quick, incessant blinking. Perhaps he hadn't feared Snape, but he surely feared his master. He raised a fist to the mirror, seeming ready to break it. "Perhaps the Stone is inside the mirror."

Aralynn's attention was drawn to Harry's movements. He was trying to inch sideways. He seemed to be aiming for the mirror. They had both visited it—knew what it did. He had to of been trying to see his reflection so that the Stone's location would be revealed to him. However, he stumbled too strongly and fell over. Aralynn slid over, trying to help him up.

"I do not know how this mirror works!" Quirrell fumed. "How can I make this mirror give me the Stone? Master, please, I need help."

Suddenly, there was a fourth voice in the room. It didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. The sound of it was horrifying. A dark, menacing whisper of a voice. It made her feel like she was poisoned. It hissed, snakelike. All it said was: "Use the boy."

Quirrell snapped his fingers again and Harry's bindings came undone. Aralynn remained tied and still, watching the scene unfurl before her. He rounded on the boy. "Come, Potter. Look into this mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry slowly approached the mirror. Aralynn began to panic. She needed to free herself and stop him from getting any closer. What could he possibly tell Quirrell once he looked at his reflection and saw where the Stone was hidden? What lie could he think of so quickly that the man wouldn't be suspicious? She continued to work on freeing her shoulder enough to reach her wand.

When Harry got close enough, Quirrell took him by the shoulders and shoved him in front of the mirror. The man stood closely behind the boy so that he wouldn't try anything foolish. If Harry did, Quirrell would be there to stop him. "Tell me, boy—what do you see?"

Luckily, Harry responded rather quickly. "I see myself," he said. "I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I—I've… wow! I've won the House Cup!"

Quirrell growled and shoved Harry out of the way. "Useless," he said to the boy.

Aralynn freed her shoulder enough to inch her wand out of her pocket with her fingers. She held it tightly and waved it as best she could. "Diffindo," she muttered. The ropes around her were severed and fell to the ground around her feet. Quirrell didn't seem to notice. She slid the wand inside of her sleeve and hid it there in case she would need it again.

"He lies!" hissed the voice. It seemed to be coming from Quirrell's turban, but how?

Quirrell rounded on Harry. He grabbed the boy's collar and forced him in front of the mirror again. "Tell me the truth!" he snapped. "What do you see?"

Harry was petrified and silent.

"Let me speak with him… Face-to-face…"

Quirrell looked nervous. "Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have strength enough for this."

Quirinus Quirrell began unwrapping the turban from his head. Aralynn was horrified knowing that her theory that there was another person underneath the cloth was affirmed. When the purple material was removed, it was revealed that there was another face attached to the back of Quirrell's head. His eyes were what struck Aralynn the most. The piercing bloodlike eyes that she had been seeing in her nightmares. His skin was pure white. What stood in place for a nose were two slits for nostrils. He looked, quite frankly, like a snake.

"Do you see where I am, Harry?" Voldemort asked. "Do you see what I've become? I cannot survive without a host. I cannot have my own body! Unicorn blood has made me stronger, but it's not enough. I need the Elixir of Life. Only then will I be whole again." His attention was suddenly on the girl. "Aralynn is free from her bindings," he growled at Quirrell. "You weren't paying enough attention! Fool!"

Aralynn walked slowly to stand at Harry's side. She brushed her hand against his, if only to assure him that she was there. They were in this together. The gleaming red eyes pierced her. She felt angry—but also felt the desire to cry. She was afraid of what was before her, sure, but this was… different. Almost a feeling of vengeance. "How do you know my name?"

Voldemort let out a raspy laugh. "Why wouldn't I know who you are? You had a hand in my fall, too, Aralynn."

The girl blinked. "What?"

"Where do you thank that scar on your forehead came from, girl?"

Harry turned on her. "Scar?"

Aralynn was outed. She brushed her bangs away from her forehead, rubbed the makeup away, and showed him the scar she had that was identical to his. "I've been trying to hide it from you."

Harry furrowed his brow. "But—why?"

"I was told you had died," Voldemort hissed. "I came to believe that Harry was the only remaining link to my destruction. That was, until Quirrell spotted you at the introductory feast. I told him that he was wrong—it was impossible, but no. There you were—the spitting image of your Mudblood mother."

Aralynn was staring right into Voldemort's eyes. "My mother is pure-blood."

Voldemort cackled. The same cackle she had heard in her nightmares. "Pure-blood? You must be brighter than this! You can't tell me you haven't figured it out by now!"

The girl closed her eyes tightly. "No."

"Don't lie to yourself, girl. There's no use in it now."

Harry was staring at Aralynn. "What does he mean, Ara?"

Voldemort's lips curled into a vindictive snarl. He was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. Aralynn couldn't bring herself to speak. Voldemort did it for her. "You were born a twin, Harry Potter. Your parents had a daughter, too."

The black-haired boy nearly fainted, but he was staring at Aralynn. "My… sister?"

"One I thought had died," Voldemort scowled. "Never matter. Harry… why don't you give me what's in your pocket?"

Aralynn glanced to Harry. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, but she didn't have the time to spiral. Instead, she focused her attention on her… her… brother. His hand snaked across his right pocket. Only then did she notice that there was something in it. He took a step back.

"Now, now, Harry…" cooed Voldemort, but coldly. "Don't make a mistake. It would be best for you to join me and save your life. Your sisters' life. If you don't… you'll meet the same fate your parents did… who died begging for mercy."

Harry's expression hardened. "You're a LIAR!"

"So quick to defend those you have never met—those you have never learned to love." Voldemort tutted. "It's quite touching. You remind me of your father. He was brave, too. I killed him first… and he put up a valiant fight, but in the end, he was still too weak. Then your mother… your sweet, kind mother. If only she hadn't gotten in the way."

Aralynn remembered the woman from her nightmare. She remembered her red hair, her awkward position, her features, her green eyes, and the way her life faded from them; the freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks, the tear that fell from her eye. Lily Potter. Her mother.

She turned to face the mirror and look at her reflection. She saw the same thing she had before—the outlines of three people standing with her. As she stood there, they began to fill in. Now there were people with her instead of silhouettes. A black-haired man with hazel eyes and glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. A redheaded woman with warm, loving green eyes—freckles on her face. A boy her age—black of hair, green of eyes, and glasses. They were all smiling at her. They were her blood—her family. James Potter. Lily Potter. Harry Potter.

Harry had grabbed her hand and began slowly pulling her back with him. She held onto it tightly, keeping her eyes on Voldemort and Quirrell. They were coming closer with every attempt made to move away. "Give me that Stone," the chalk-white face growled. "You don't want your family to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" cried Harry. He attempted to run for it, dragging Aralynn along with him. They were almost to the entranceway… so close…

But not close enough.

Quirrell's hand grasped onto Aralynn's wrist. He was trying to pull her back, but Harry wouldn't let go. Her body was caught in the middle of a vicious tug-of-war. She thought one of her arms would surely be ripped off. The struggle was brief. Quirrell had released her and stumbled back. He cried out, pained. The children looked to see that his hands had blistered.

"SEIZE THEM—SEIZE THEM!" Voldemort was shouting.

Quirrell was coming for them again. Aralynn, panicking, made a choice. She pushed Harry forward, giving him a chance to run while she stayed back as a distraction. Quirrell had taken ahold of her throat and was squeezing with all his might. Between the diminishing oxygen and the fierce fire burning in her forehead—she cried in agony.

Harry refused to abandon her. He ran and shoved Quirrell off her, only to have the man grasp his throat instead. He scratched some of the blisters open trying to free himself. The man let go, squealing loudly. "Master, I cannot hold him! My hands—my hands!"

Aralynn crawled over to Harry and took his hand. "He can't touch us," she croaked. "I don't know why, but he can't touch us."

"Go for the face," said Harry weakly.

"KILL THEM! KILL THEM NOW AND BE DONE WITH IT!"

Quirrell lunged forward, wand in the air; ready to perform a curse. Harry and Aralynn were still holding hands when they jumped for him. They used their free ones to press into his face. All three of them were screaming now. The pain in Aralynn's forehead was making her go blind while her ears squealed like a steam engine.

They held onto him as tightly as they could, but he still managed to knock them off. They both went flying. Aralynn slammed into a stone column. Her eyes were struggling to stay open, but so long as they did, they were on Harry. Her vision was fading in and out when she noticed the figure of somebody come running into the room. Harry's arm was lying limp, outstretched towards her. She reached hers out, desperate to reach him. The world went black.

When the nightmare reoccurred, Aralynn knew what it really was. It was a memory. Likely the first memory she had formed—the night her parents had been murdered, and her life was almost taken as well. She saw it through the eyes of her infant self. She had been looking at Harry, pulling on his onesie and laughing. Laughing, that was, until her mother, Lily, came flying into the room. She had slammed the door shut and locked it. A Hail Mary attempt at keeping something out. It didn't work. The door burst open, and the cloaked body of Lord Voldemort came in. She knelt before the bars, hands around them, crying for her children. "You are so loved," she whispered. She turned, and Voldemort's wand was pointed at her. She had hers raised, too, but she wasn't quick enough. He mouthed something Aralynn couldn't hear and hurled a burst of green light at her. She staggered back and collapsed—into the same awkward position Aralynn had seen before. The tear came rolling out of her green eye. Even as unaware, defenseless babies, Harry and Aralynn had instinctively grabbed hands. They were crying then, screaming for their mother. Voldemort turned on them. He raised his wand, focusing his treacherous red eyes on them. The dirty finger pointed the wand. An incantation she couldn't understand. The green light. Searing pain on her forehead. The crumpled robes on the floor.

Bright light flooded in. Aralynn stirred, then stilled again. Her body ached something fierce. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing the high ceiling above. She rubbed the blur from her eyes and glanced around. In a bed next to her laid Harry, who was still unconscious. He was covered with a white cotton blanket. His skin was littered with small cuts and bruises. The table between them was piled high with trinkets and candies. Sitting between the foot of their beds, in a chair, was Albus Dumbledore. He smiled at her when she gazed at him. "Sir?" she muttered, sitting up slowly. Her muscles groaned in protest. "Where am I?"

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore softly. "You're in the Hospital Wing."

Aralynn was trying to jog her cloudy memory. "Down in the chamber… Quirrell… Voldemort…"

"Not to worry. Quirrell, and Voldemort, are gone. At least for now."

"Gone?"

"I arrived just in time to get Quirrell away from you and Harry. He has since been dealt with. I wasn't sure if the two of you had made it. The altercation nearly took your lives."

Aralynn rubbed her head. "The Stone?"

"Gone," said Dumbledore. "Destroyed."

Aralynn inhaled a shaky breath. "How did Harry get the Stone?"

Dumbledore smiled. "A creation of mine," he said. "It would only appear to a person who had no intentions of using it. Harry had no intention of using it. Instead, he wanted to protect it."

Aralynn ran her fingers through her hair. She was thinking of everything that had been revealed to her in the chamber. "I suppose you know… that I've found the answers to why I've been feeling so out of place this past year."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I presumed that you were told. How does it make you feel, Aralynn… to know who you are, now—after all this time?"

"Sad," Aralynn answered honestly. "It's good to know. I finally feel… maybe not whole, but better, but it makes me sad to know that my real parents are… dead."

Dumbledore smiled at her and laughed softly. "James and Lily may have been your blood family, Aralynn, but that doesn't make Arthur and Molly any less your parents."

Of course, he was right. The Weasleys were the only family she had ever known. Not even the truth could stop that. The girl smiled sheepishly at him. "Sir… Voldemort said he thought I was dead. How… I mean, why did…?"

The eldering man folded his hands in his lap. "Not many people knew that James and Lily had twins. They only shared the information with their deeply close friends. Arthur and Molly Weasley were some of those friends. It was discovered by Voldemort, clearly, when he came to kill you both. When you both survived, and I had to intervene, I tried my best to arrange it in a way that both of you would remain anonymous. That, however, did not work. Harry was the only one discovered, and while that made me hurt; I had to use it to my advantage. I let the people in Lily and James's life believe that you had died, while Harry had lived. It was one way to keep you safe. I knew that your mother and father trusted Arthur and Molly quite well. Your appearance was… inspiration… enough to place you with them. You would quite easily pass as another Weasley child, and nobody would be the wiser."

Aralynn nodded. "Why, though, did you separate us?"

Dumbledore sighed sorrowfully. "For many reasons. The most prominent being because it was believed that you had died. Given I kept you two together, that truth would have been revealed to the public, and the both of you would be in even more danger. Harry's life and existence were exposed, and so I sent him to live with his Muggle relatives, where he could stay unnoticed. They're your family, too, in fact. Harry's aunt, Petunia, is your mother's sister. Another reason I did so was because I thought it would be better for you two to stay apart. At least until you understood the truth of your lives… and your past."

Aralynn looked down at her hands. "Everyone will know now."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's true, but… now we will be better equipped to handle people knowing that. The opinions of others do not matter. What matters is your opinion of yourself."

The girl smiled at him. "After all these months of wrestling with myself, and who I felt I was supposed to be… it's relieving to know the truth. I… feel free for the first time in a long time." She hesitated. "Do Hermione and Ron know? About whom I really am?"

"They do. I took the liberty of telling them—I hope that does not bother you?"

Aralynn shook her head. "No, it doesn't… but what about Fred and George? Percy?"

"I think you've misunderstood," Dumbledore said with an amused lilt to his voice. "The whole school knows now, Miss... Potter. Secrets do not stay secrets very long in Hogwarts."

From Harry's bed came stirring. He was finally waking. He had sat up, trying to understand where he was, and then began to panic. "Sir! Quirrell has the Stone!"

Dumbledore raised his hands. "Easy, Harry. Relax, now. Quirrell does not have the Stone."

Harry appeared dumbfounded. "Then… who does?"

"Nobody," answered Dumbledore. "It has been destroyed."

The boy was relieved, only briefly, before he was horrified. "What about Mr. Flamel? Won't he and his wife die now?"

Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. "You know about Nicolas? How delightful. You truly put in your research… but not to worry, Harry. Nicolas and I had a long discussion about the Stone, and what should happen to it. We collectively decided that its destruction would be for the best. He has enough of the elixir to put his affairs in order. After that, yes… Nicolas and Perenelle will die."

"They've been around for so long…" Harry said, sadly.

The man stood and walked over to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel have lived quite a long and fruitful lives. They will pass with the joy of memories… peacefully. In truth, the Philosopher's Stone was not such a gift. To live with endless life, and endless wealth… would, realistically, be a burden. We all have our time to pass, Harry. Humans are unfailingly selfish people—driven by greed. To possess an object with such power gives us a choice… to live within the margins that are given by life, or to cheat through it. We always tend to choose the option that is most detrimental to us."

Panic consumed Harry again. "Aralynn! She was down there with me! Professor, she is my sister! Is she—"

Dumbledore turned his head to Aralynn, who was staring at her… brother. When Harry followed the man's gaze, he brightened. "Ara! You're okay!"

Aralynn grinned. "Looks that way."

"Sir… how long have we been here?"

"Three days. Madam Pomfrey has been working tirelessly to heal you both."

Harry nodded. "And, Professor, if you don't mind… I have some questions."

"Ones I hope I can answer. If I cannot, I ask that you understand."

"Is he gone? Vol—You-Know-Who, I mean?"

"Call him by his name, Harry. His name is Voldemort. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. To answer your question, no. He is not gone. In those last moments of Quirrell's life, Voldemort abandoned him. Which is only a testament to his character; the way he treats his faithful followers… the same as he treats those who would oppose him. The simple truth is that you and Aralynn have only managed to keep him at bay a little while longer. Perhaps he will not rise to power, should those around continue to force him back."

"Voldemort said that he only killed my—our —mother because she was protecting us… but why would he want to kill us, to begin with? We were only babies."

Dumbledore sighed. "That, Harry, is a question I cannot answer. At least not now."

Harry nodded slowly. "Then… why couldn't Quirrell bear to touch us?"

"Love," answered the man. "Your mother sacrificed her life to keep yours. The one thing that Voldemort will never be able to understand is love. Such sacrifice—such selfless sacrifice—leaves its own mark. Not in the form of a scar, or blemish. It cannot be seen… only felt. It hides within you. In your very skin. To be loved so deeply, even by someone who has passed, will protect you. At least, in some ways. Quirrell, and Voldemort both, who were consumed so deeply by hatred, would never be able to touch something so good and pure."

Aralynn pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. It was at least one thing her mother had given her—the gift of her own life. Her eyes had welled with tears. I love you, Mom, she thought.

Harry rubbed his hands together. "Who sent me the invisibility cloak?"

Dumbledore, who had taken to feeding seeds to a bird that landed on the windowsill, smiled at Harry. "I did. Your father left it in my possession. I figured it would do you well. Moreover, it was not mine to keep."

Aralynn had gotten out of bed. She tapped Harry's arm, who moved over. She joined him and sat at his side, grinning at him. He smiled back and watched Dumbledore. "Quirrell said that Snape—"

"Professor Snape."

"Right," said Harry quickly and dismissively. "Well, Quirrell said that he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, it's no secret that your father and Professor Snape had quite a tumultuous relationship. They disliked each other quite a bit. Much like the relationship you have with Mr. Malfoy, in fact."

"Why doesn't he hate Aralynn, then?"

Dumbledore fingered his beard. "Another question that will be answered with time."

Aralynn patted Harry's hand. It would be okay if she never knew.

"Your father, also, did something that Severus could never forgive."

Harry blinked. "What was it?"

Dumbledore turned to him. "Saved his life."

"What?"

The man came traipsing back over to them. He was studying the sweets that they had received. "For Severus, it was prudent that the debt be repaid. I presume that is why he worked so hard to protect you this year. That way, once the obligation had been fulfilled, he could return to despising your father's memory without any strings… in peace."

As Harry was asking his final questions, Aralynn had noticed that the scrapbook Ron had given her for their birthday was sitting on the bedside table. She grabbed it and opened it in her lap. She flipped through the pages, glancing at the photographs that she had taken before, and after, they started Hogwarts. She had done her best to keep up with taking pictures, but she had, admittedly, gotten sidetracked. Her first year at Hogwarts was rough. She came to the last page, and nearly burst into tears. Enchanted to stick to the paper was a photograph of James and Lily. They were sitting on a couch, laughing, and holding hands. A cat came prancing along the top of it. There was a folded-up piece of parchment underneath it. Aralynn unstuck it from the page.

'Ara,

Professor Dumbledore gave me this photograph after he told Hermione and me that you and Harry are twins. He asked me to give it to you, so that you would have a memory of your parents. I decided that it would be best to put it in here. It'll really add to your collection, even though you weren't the one to take the picture. I thought it would be something you would like to have. I hope I'm right.

Just so you know, I'm not mad at you. It's okay that we're not actually twins, or even siblings. Either way, you're still family. I guess we can't celebrate our birthdays together anymore, since your real birthday is in July. You've had the wrong age this whole time, isn't that weird? I guess I am the old one after all.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being part of my life. It would be super weird if you hadn't been given to Mum and Dad to raise. You might not be my sister, but I still love you.

I hope you continue living with us at The Burrow.

Glad you didn't die,

Ron.'

She smiled softly at his chicken scratch handwriting and tucked the note into her pocket. She ran her fingers, very gently, over the photograph of her mother and father. She hoped that she would be able to attain more pictures of them one day. When Dumbledore and Harry had finished their conversation, Dumbledore ambled over to their table of snacks. He was eyeing a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You two had best not let these sweets go to waste. They're tokens from your friends and fans!" Dumbledore picked up the box of Beans. "I was most unfortunate to come across a vomit-flavored bean in my youth. Quite traumatizing, really. Since then, I have lost my liking for them, but I suppose, I could fair to try again. Toffee would be nice, don't you think?"

He plucked a golden-brown bean from the box. He turned it over in his hand, examining it. He then popped it into his mouth. He perked up. "Alas! Earwax!" He then set the box down and rounded away. "I must take my leave now. Do try and get better quickly. I would hate to have you both miss the end-of-year feast."

When Dumbledore left, Aralynn laid her head on Harry's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, resting his cheek on her head. "Harry?" asked Aralynn. "Did you have any idea that we could be twins?"

"None," Harry laughed. "I didn't even know you had a scar."

"I've done my best to hide it all year."

"Why?"

Aralynn shrugged. "It scared me a little bit to think that we had identical scars. Especially when I didn't know why. I've been wrestling with myself all year, trying to figure out why I felt so… misplaced."

Harry glanced to her. "Is that why you would go quiet? Why you avoided me after what happened in the forest?"

Aralynn nodded. "I was scared and confused. Especially after the—"

"Forcefield," answered Harry. "The connection we made?"

Aralynn lifted her head. "You noticed?"

"Of course," he said. "I just… didn't have much room in my head to really think about it. Hey—how did you get through the black flames, anyway?"

"There was a very tiny amount of potion left in the vial after you drank it. I mixed it with one of the bottles of nettle wine. Hermione and I came up with the idea. It worked—for a second. Just enough time for me to get through."

Harry laughed. "Brilliant."

After a few hours passed, Ron and Hermione came by the Hospital Wing for a visit. Madam Pomfrey, at first, wouldn't allow it. She insisted that the twins needed as much rest as they could get, but they still managed to change her mind. She allowed them to come inside. They came running over to greet their friends. Ron hugged Aralynn and almost squished her to death. Hermione did the same, but much gentler. They sat on either side of the bed Harry and Aralynn were both in.

"We're so glad to see that you're both okay," said Hermione. "We were worried. You guys were out for three whole days. Ron was worried that you were in a coma."

Ron went red. "Yeah, well… it was a long time to be out…"

Aralynn chuckled. "Not to worry, Ron. We're awake now."

"Did you get my note?"

She nodded. "I did. Thank you."

"So, what happened?" asked Hermione. "Down in the chamber?"

Harry looked over to Aralynn. "Well, we were shocked to find out that it was Quirrell who was trying to get the Stone instead of Snape. He knew the mirror was the last test, but he didn't know how it would work. Voldemort was there."

Hermione gasped. "He was?"

"Sort of," said Aralynn. "He had to live off Quirrell. So, really, he was only a face on the back of his head."

Ron grimaced. "That explains the turban."

Harry nodded. "He called me over to ask me what I saw in the mirror. I lied to him and told him what you told me, Ron. About winning the House Cup. Really, I saw myself with the Stone. My reflection put it in my pocket and… there it was. Voldemort knew better, though. He said I was lying. Wanted to talk to me."

"That's when he told me the truth… about who I am," said Aralynn.

"He wanted me… or, I guess, us—to join him. Couldn't do that, though, could we?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Then he tried to kill us."

"Only—he couldn't touch us," Harry explained. "It made him blister. Dumbledore said it's because our mother sacrificed her life for ours. It protected us in some way."

Ron tilted his head. "What about the Stone?"

"It was destroyed," answered Aralynn.

Hermione frowned. "That's it, then? Nicolas and Perenelle will die?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Dumbledore said… what was it, Ara?"

"'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"Totally off his rocker," said Ron, but admiringly. He seemed to be daydreaming about Dumbledore.

"He also was the one who gave me the cloak," said Harry.

Ron pursed his lips thoughtfully. "D'you think he meant for all of this to happen?"

Hermione huffed. "That would be really cruel. They could have died!"

"Dumbledore knows everything that happens in the school," Harry told them. "So, yeah, I think he meant for this all to happen, but he never would've let anything happen to us. It was all planned in some way, I think. He wanted me, maybe even us, since Aralynn knew; how the mirror worked. He's a brilliant man."

"You guys have to come to the feast tomorrow," said Ron. "The points have been tallied. Of course, Slytherin won. You also missed the last Quidditch game, and Ravenclaw totally flattened us. That's okay, though, because we'll be there, and we know the food will be good."

Aralynn looked up. "How did I do on exams?"

"Really well," answered Hermione. "You aced them, of course."

Aralynn chuckled. "Who came out on top?"

Hermione flushed. "I did… but don't be upset! You were behind by only a few marks."

"I'm not upset, Hermione. I'm really proud of you. You deserve it."

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over and kicked Ron and Hermione out of the Hospital Wing. They had had enough time in her eyes, and now the Potter twins needed to get some rest. Which, they did. Aralynn, however, refused to leave Harry's bed. It felt wrong to be separated from him after she had only just discovered him. They slept together, curled up in the bed Harry had been in. For the first time since September, Aralynn slept well. She didn't have a single nightmare.

Hagrid had come to visit them the next morning. He was a complete wreck—just sobbing uncontrollably. He felt responsible for Quirrell and Voldemort's success in accessing the Philosopher's Stone. He kept talking about how much he hated himself for telling the 'ruddy git' how to get past Fluffy. Aralynn and Harry assured him that it wasn't his fault, and that they were bound to find out one way or another. While he was there, he had gifted each of them beautiful leather journals—in the journals were full of photographs of their parents. He knew that they hadn't had any of them, and that they deserved it. He even went on to explain that he knew, all along, that Aralynn was Harry's twin. He had been the one to deliver Aralynn to Arthur and Molly Weasley. Aralynn thanked him for that.

When it came time for the feast, Madam Pomfrey cleared them to go, if only because Dumbledore said that they were allowed to attend. They changed into their school robes and headed down to the Great Hall. They walked side-by-side, thinking of all the adventures they had experienced in their first year at Hogwarts. They were sad for it end.

"It'll be weird to go home," Harry said to his sister. "After everything that has happened, I feel like Hogwarts I where I belong. It'll be especially strange… considering you're my sister and we won't be together."

Aralynn nodded. "I know. It's sad, but… at least we still have each other—no matter what."

"D'you reckon I should tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that you're alive?"

Aralynn laughed. "Oh, Harry. I have no idea."

The Great Hall was full by the time they walked through the doors. The room was decorated in honor of Slytherin's victory in winning the House Cup. No matter where they turned, there was always a combination of green and silver. Behind the High Table was a massive banner of a serpent—Slytherin House's crest. The sight of the hall made them unhappy. They felt extremely guilty for contributing so heavily, if not entirely, to Gryffindor's loss.

When the students noticed they had entered, the room fell silent. They walked to their table together and took seats near Ron and Hermione. People were standing in their seats to get a look at them. It made them uncomfortable. Fred and George skirted over, kissing each side of Aralynn's head.

"Nice to have you back," whispered George.

"Potter," added Fred. They winked at her.

Aralynn was smiling when they returned to their seats. Chatter about the discovery of a second Potter was filling the halls. They only went quiet when Dumbledore approached the podium to speak to them all.

"Alas, another year has gone and passed," he said loudly, for everyone to hear. "Before we can devour our delicious meals, I ask that you bear an old man and his banter. I hope this year was successful for you. I hope you gained new friends, absorbed more knowledge, and learned some valuable lessons about life and yourselves. Try not to keep your minds too full over the summer—we need an empty slate to pour more information into for the next year. Now—the House Cup needs to be awarded. As I understand the points, our order follows: Gryffindor in fourth place with three hundred and twelve points. In third, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two points. Ravenclaw, second, with four hundred and twenty-six points. Finally, Slytherin, in first place, with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherin students cheered quite loudly… arrogantly, too. It seemed to be directed at the Gryffindors. Aralynn grimaced at the sight of Malfoy banging his goblet erratically on the table.

"Yes, yes—well done, Slytherin! However, some last minutes tallies must be accounted for…" The Slytherins went deadly silent. They stared at Dumbledore. "Firstly, to Mr. Ronald Weasley – for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years; I award Gryffindor fifty points."

Percy, in the background, was gloating about his youngest brother getting past McGonagall's transfigured chess set.

"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger—for the use of cool logic in the face of fire; I award Gryffindor fifty points."

Aralynn reached over to pat Hermione's hand and smile at her.

"Third – to Miss Aralynn Potter. For forcing bravery and normalcy in lieu of unknowing… I award Gryffindor fifty points."

The Weasley twins shook Aralynn as they howled.

"To Mr. Harry Potter—for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor sixty points."

"We've beaten Slytherin!" Hermione whispered excitedly.

The chatter started up again until Dumbledore raised his hand. "Now, there are all kinds of courage… and it takes a great deal to stand up to those who hurt us… and just as much to stand up to our friends. Therefore, I award Mr. Neville Longbottom ten points."

While they knew that Slytherin had been beaten before then—Neville's awarded points only solidified it. Gryffindor students began piling on top of the boy who looked absolutely terrified. Dumbledore, who was laughing cheerfully, clapped his hands. The nauseating ocean of green and silver disappeared. The room, instead, warmed with scarlet and gold. Gryffindor had won the House Cup! McGonagall was nearly—no, actually—dancing.

That night in the Great Hall was, by far, the best night that Aralynn had had since she came to Hogwarts. While she knew she would miss the school, her brother, and her friends—she was quite glad to have the traumatizing ordeal of events behind her. She vowed that her first year would have to be the worst year she would ever experience at Hogwarts. There was no way she was going to allow her life to be as miserable as it had been ever again.

Before they knew it; their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, information for owls was exchanged, and goodbyes were said. They had boarded the train, laughed, and cried while they traveled back to King's Cross Station, and said their final partings to their completed year of schooling. They even discussed what they would be studying outside of school. Once they had arrived at King's Cross Station, they all began to exit the train and platform. They, of course, had to go slowly so that Muggles wouldn't be alerted by the dozens of children appearing from a column.

Ron was telling Harry and Hermione that they absolutely needed to come and stay at The Burrow over the summer. Aralynn agreed that they should, but if they couldn't, they still needed to keep in touch. They exited the barrier, where they heard someone excitedly shouting Harry's name. It was Ginny Weasley.

They wandered over to Molly Weasley. She was smiling dearly at them. "Busy year, dears?"

Harry laughed. "You have no idea. Thanks, again, for the fudge and sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

She reached out to touch his hair. "Oh, it's my pleasure, dear."

A large, purple-faced mustached man came over to Harry. Behind him was a skinny, long-necked blonde woman and an equally as large, pink-faced blond boy. Aralynn assumed that these people were Harry's—well, her—family. "Ready, then, are you?" asked Vernon Dursley, rather impatiently.

Molly perked up. "You must be Harry's family!"

Vernon grumbled. "I suppose…" he said. Aralynn was leaning over and looking at him. He seemed to be quite alarmed. "Petunia—is that…? PETUNIA!"

Petunia Dursley startled. When she looked at Aralynn, she nearly fainted. "You—but—no—how—Lily—"

Aralynn nodded slowly. "It's true. Not to worry, though. You won't have a second Potter plaguing your cupboard under the stairs."

Molly Weasley looked furious. "Cupboard?"

With that, the Dursleys hurriedly dragged Harry away. Harry had turned and said goodbye to them. Before they could walk too far, he ran back and wrapped his arms tightly around Aralynn. He held her close, sounding as though he were sniffling. "I'll miss you, Ara."

Aralynn smiled slightly. "I'll miss you, too, Harry. Don't worry. I won't stop being your sister over the summer."

Harry only finally wandered off when Vernon came to drag him away by the collar.

When Harry was out of sight, Aralynn walked with the Weasleys—who were still very much her family—to the Ford Anglia that was parked outside. Before they got into the car, Aralynn forced herself into Molly Weasley's arms. The woman stroked her hair. "What is it, dear?"

"I just wanted to thank you," said Aralynn, looking up at her. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has told you that I know now, and… I wanted to sincerely tell you how grateful I am to you. Thank you so much for taking me in… Thank you for being my mother."

Molly Weasley was now blubbering like a baby. She kissed Aralynn several times on the cheek. When they were done, they filed into the car and set off to return to their odd, misshapen house. The house Aralynn had missed so much.

Sitting next to Ron, Aralynn stared out the window. She watched as the city slowly faded away, evolving into green countryside. She rested her chin on the side of the car, smiling to herself. She no longer needed to question who she was. It was an immaculate feeling to finally know the truth—to finally have answers. She knew exactly who she was.

Aralynn Nicole Potter.