Disclaimer: I don't own HP, I only own Evan and Iris.
20-4-2023
Entry 1:
July 25th, 1991
Dear Aimee,
Dad got me a journal. He says that now I'm going to Hogwarts, it's time I follow in Potter family tradition and write my experiences to pass down my knowledge to future generations. But I decided that I would address my entries to you.
To whoever is reading this in the future, Aimee is short for Amaryllis, as in Amaryllis Hope Potter, my twin sister. She died when we were four, as a result of the attack by Voldemort when we were babies. I don't remember her very well. I know she looked like a female version of Dad with Mum's green eyes and I remember she was always pale and thin, and too weak to play with me. She was always reading or being read to by one of the adults, I think because it was the only thing that didn't wear her out. But even though I don't remember her very well, I still miss her more than anything. I'd give anything short of my parents or Iris' lives if it brought her back, healthy and whole, to us. Even if it was just a portrait, but Mum and Dad never got her painted before she died. I guess they didn't want to acknowledge their daughter was so sick she'd need one. At least that's what Grandmother Dorea's portrait told me when I asked her. Addressing my journal to Aimee makes me feel like she's still a part of my life in some way.
I suppose that sounds stupid.
At any rate, today I got my Hogwarts letter and we went to Diagon Alley. It's the first time I've been there since before you died, Aimee. You never got to go, of course. It would've been too much exertion for you.
It was really colourful, and full of people. Granted, I think word of our arrival spread pretty quickly, because a bunch of people grouped around us asking for my autograph. An Auror had to come and escort us around to keep them away. That kind of put a damper on my enjoyment, but I guess it was better than being harassed the whole time.
It took a while to get my wand. Or rather, as Mr. Ollivander put it, 'for my wand to choose me'. I must have tried a dozen wands before one worked. It's eleven inches, English oak and unicorn tail hair. Mr. Ollivander said that wands made of English oak is for wixen of strength, courage and fidelity. I don't know if I'm strong or courageous, but I want to be. You gave up so much for me to be the Boy-Who-Lived. You died because of that night. I want to make it worth it. I don't think it ever will be, though. How could anything be worth your life?
We went to the Menagerie last. Mum and Dad said Iris could get a pet as well, so she wouldn't be as lonely while I'm gone this year. She got a black cat with white paws. Knowing her, she'll give it a really girly name. I got a grey owl so I can send letters, especially to Iris. I'm not sure what I'll name her yet. I kind of want to name her after you, but I think that would upset Mum too much. If someone so much as mentions your name she breaks down.
Mum acted kind of odd during the trip. I heard her tell Dad that she saw 'them' while we were in Madam Malkin's, but I don't know who 'they' are. I wonder if they hurt her somehow, and that's why she was so upset. Or maybe she was upset because you should be going to Hogwarts with me, and you're not. Even if you were still alive, you'd probably be too sick to go. When we got home, she locked herself in your room and cried for a while, the way she does when she's missing you. It's a shrine full of everything you ever owned, and Mum keeps any pictures of you in there so they're not at risk of being damaged by Iris and I playing or our accidental magic.
She misses you a lot. We all do. You left a hole in our lives when you died, and it's never been fixed. I don't think it ever will be.
I wish you were coming to Hogwarts with me.
All my love,
Evan
Entry 2:
September 1st, 1991
Dear Aimee,
Well, I'm finally here. I am officially a student of Gryffindor House. So far Hogwarts is exactly like in Mum and Dad's stories. I bet you'd love it. You always used to love hearing stories about Hogwarts.
We were mobbed by reporters at the Platform, but thankfully Dad gave me his Invisibility Cloak to sneak onto the train. I found an empty compartment and settled in. A boy named Ron Weasley came in shortly before we left and asked if he could sit with me. I was hoping to make a friend, so I agreed. He's nice, even if he was a bit insensitive at first. He asked to see my scar and if I remembered what happened.
He didn't even remember you existed until I mentioned you when he talked about his twin brothers. No one seems to remember you, even though you suffered the most because of that night. I still hear you coughing wetly sometimes, or gasping for breath after trying to walk from your bed to the door of your bedroom. It's so unfair.
Anyway, we had a good time during the train ride, but I met this boy called Draco Malfoy at one point. It didn't go well, to put it mildly. He insulted Ron and his family and condescended to offer help me make 'the right sort of connections' despite my 'unfortunate heritage'. Naturally, I refused his offer, and we were setting up for a fight when Ron's rat, Scratch, bit Malfoy's crony, Goyle, and chased them off.
The rest of the ride was relaxed and fun. I think Ron might be my first friend who isn't my sister.
We went to Hogwarts in a bunch of boats led by Hagrid, the gamekeeper, and it was beautiful! I'll draw a picture on the next page, but I doubt anyone reading this hasn't seen the school at least once. We had to wait for a while in this little room before Professor McGonagall came to get us to be Sorted, and it was a pretty nerve-wracking wait. Ron mentioned how his brother said the Sorting hurt a lot and one of the other girls was a bit mean about it, though she did have a point. With how protective Mum and Dad are, I doubt they'd let me go to a school that had a painful test just to Sort you, tradition or no tradition.
Anyway, as I said, I'm in Gryffindor. I'm relieved, I was so afraid that I'd be in Slytherin. I know Mum and Dad said that they'd love me no matter what House I was in, but I also know that if I was in Slytherin, everyone would be calling me a Dark Lord and saying I used Dark Magic to survive the attack. Gryffindor is the House of the Brave, which is what I want to, what people expect me to be. Like Mum is always saying, I'm the Boy-Who-Lived and I 'have an image to maintain'. (I think she just doesn't want me to be a prankster like Dad was when he was a kid). Plus, if I were in Slytherin I'd be stuck sharing a room with Malfoy for seven years, which would be even worse.
Anyway, there are quite a few new Gryffindors. Aludra Black, Susan Bones, Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Kellah Jackson are the girls, then the boys are me, Ron, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. They all seem nice, but Aludra seems a bit stand-offish. I get the feeling she doesn't like me very much. I wish I knew why. She, Neville and Susan are friends already. They seem really close, finishing each other's sentences and everything.
I wonder if we'd be like that if you were still here?
Ron, Susan, Lavender and Neville are all purebloods. Parvati, Fay, Seamus and I are half-bloods (though Fay's been raised in the muggle world-her dad died in the War) and Dean and Kellah are muggleborns. Aludra's father is a pureblood, but she's adopted and doesn't know who her birth parents are, so she isn't sure what blood-status she is. She's been raised as a pureblood Heiress though. Susan is Lady Bones and Neville is Heir Longbottom. I can tell they're Traditionalists, and I'm a bit jealous. Dad and Mum don't pay much attention to that sort of thing, but it's always interested me. I want to be a politician, to use my status as Boy-Who-Lived and Heir Potter to do some good.
I want to make you proud of me.
Gryffindor Tower is great. It's decorated a bit like home, with all the overstuffed red armchairs and the snuggly carpets. I bet you'd love it. I remember you use to love the feeling of the rug on your feet. It was always the simple things that you treasured most.
I bet you'd be a Gryffindor too. You were always so brave, even when you were coughing up blood. I remember you asking Mum if you were dying once. She cried and Dad said no, of course not. I overheard him tell Mum that you didn't understand what you were asking but I think you did. You were clever, cleverer at 4 than I am at 11. You knew, and you weren't scared.
I wish you were here with me.
All my love,
Evan