Two Birds ~ Regina Spector

I sat on my bed, in my room in Privete Drive rereading the letters I got from Ginny, Sarah and Conan in the past week or so. Ginny was writing to me about her trip abroad, where had she gone again? Mexico? Oh, no Egypt. Her dad had won a daily prophet prize, so they decided to spend it on holiday in Egypt, given that her oldest brother, Bill, works there. She wrote about the ancient Egyptian magic that was guarding the tombs and the shrines there and complained about her mother being overprotective and not letting her have as much fun as the rest of them.

I wished I could travel abroad, I've never really been anywhere, Harry and I were always excluded from all the holidays and trips the Dursleys go on. Instead, we always ended up at Mrs. Figg's place. Harry hated it, but I eventually developed a fascination with her cats. She also had a little shelf full of books, they were mostly classics. I used to "borrow" one of them every time I was there. But still, I always dreamed of travelling somewhere, meeting different people who speak different languages, and going to the sea, I've never seen the sea before and still mere pictures of it make me yearn, but maybe someday...

Sarah wrote about London, her mother was a TV reporter and her father was a journalist and they were almost always busy, but she spent most of her time with her older sister, Amber. She told me all about the amusement park they went to together.

Conan and his mother were visiting his grandfather in the countryside, he told me all about the magical crops there, he talked about fruits and vegetables I'd never heard about, some of them changed colours, and some would float above the ground with their roots hanging upside down, he then wished I was having a good holiday. When I wrote back telling him how bored I was here, he sent me three whole books and a few chocolate frogs. I was so grateful for the books, but somehow I would end up leaving them and keep rereading his letters instead.

I finally pulled my eyes out of Conan's letters and went downstairs for breakfast, I almost sat down next to Harry and Dudley.

"What do you think you're doing? Come help, be useful for once"

I sighed internally, took the spatula from Aunt Petunia's hand and started flipping eggs. I watched her from the corner of my eyes, I have been watching her intently since I came back from Hogwarts, my little self-realization of how much I think like her had almost broken me. I kept monitoring closely the similarities between us. When I first came back and started doing this I realized with a start that I had her eyes, I don't know how I didn't see it till now, but the resemblance was uncanny, we have the same exact shade of hazel that turns almost yellow in the sunlight. I also noticed how she forms her hands in tight fists when she's nervous or stressed, the same way I do. Now when I catch myself doing that I stop myself forcefully. It brought a bitter taste in my mouth just thinking about how similar we are. When I fall asleep thinking about it, I have nightmares about my hair turning blond and my neck getting longer and longer until it's a giraffe's long (not very creative, my dreams).

She was starting at the new television in the kitchen, the news was talking about an escaped convict, Sirius Black, when they showed the convict's photo, Aunt Petunia's eyes widened a little, and she looked slightly shocked for a second, then she sharply looked away from the television and stared out of the window, her face had returned to its normal frown, but I couldn't help but notice her clenched fist.

Breakfast came with the horrible, horrible news of Marge's visit, I cursed under my breath, now my week was ruined, this woman was a nightmare, she had her stupid little bulldog that kept chasing us around, even though if it wanted meat there is a supply that could feed a small village just under its nose called Dudley, but no, it keeps coming for us and the moment I try to make any damage to it, I'm the one in trouble.

I never chased the bulldog with a huge knife and got locked in my cupboard for a year, because that would be animal cruelty and six-year-olds shouldn't carry knives.

But mostly, I despised her because of how she would talk about my parents. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon rarely talked about them, they avoided the topic like it was the plague. But she would just keep bringing it up, insulting them over and over. Back then, I had no choice but to believe her, when she said my mother was irresponsible and didn't care for us when she said that my father was probably driving drunk and that's why they crashed, I had no place else to get any information about them. I'd struggle for days thinking about how maybe my parents didn't love me after all, maybe I was just unlovable, too much to care for that neither sister would tolerate me.

But now, I know the truth, I know that my parents died just to protect us, I know that they were heroes and saved the world, I didn't know how am I going to keep my temper around the person that made me doubt them all those years. The answer is that I won't. I simply won't let her get away with it anymore.

I rushed my breakfast and stormed to my room, Harry followed me a few minutes later and started pacing around nervously.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, she won't do anything, she's probably terrified, she knows we're magic now"

"No, she doesn't"

"She doesn't?! Okay, fine even if she doesn't, I'm not going to tolerate her this time"

"Please, you have to behave yourself around her," he said sitting down and looking very serious.

"And why would I do that"

He told me about his deal with Uncle Vernon.

"I still don't see why I have to tolerate her, I'm not the one going to Hogsmeade"

"They're not going to sign it unless we both behave, just don't talk about magic, and if asked say you attend Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Girls"

"What, I most certainly am not going to say that"

"Please, Emma, I really want to go, besides you'll want to sign yours next year anyway"

"Then I'll behave next year"

"Oh come on, I do lots of things for you, who got you out of trouble when you sneaked out of school? Who helped you steal those stupid balloons that you wanted so much? Who-"

"Fine, fine, I'll behave around her, I promise," I said, resigned.

"Thank you, I owe you one, now don't forget, Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Girls"

"Sure, do you want me to cut a scar on my face, wear a leather jacket and get like 5 piercings all over my face to be more convincing?"

"No, your normal face would convince her alright" he said with a smug grin and took out his broom cleaning kit and started cleaning his broom for probably the hundredth time in twelve hours.

Turns out I'm not the one that had to keep her temper in check, as it's well known, by the end of the week, Harry and I stood alone, with our suitcases in magnolia crescent, not knowing what to do. I was worried about my temper around her, but Harry's outburst actually scared me, he usually wasn't the one to lose it like that. I didn't know what the ministry might do this time, last year they sent a warning assuming he was the one who used magic instead of Dobby. Would they assume that Harry did it again? Or would they just expel us both? Would they question the Dursleys about it? I had so many questions, I was so confused, but I was glad we were out of that place.

"Harry, if the ministry comes, we'll say it was me," I said after almost ten minutes of silence.

"No, we won't"

"Yes, we will, you already have a record, and I'm only second Year I can convince them I couldn't keep my magic under control"

"It's my fault, Emma, you won't get expelled because if my fa-" Suddenly Harry straightened and looked around, looking like he just saw a ghost.

"What are y-" I started.

"Shhh, Lumos" Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, I almost saw something huge, I just figured it was some car piece or furniture. Harry stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter.

I had to stop myself from laughing as I looked at him on the ground, he seemed really paranoid.

There was a deafening BANG, and I squinted against sudden light, but then hastily pulled Harry to the pavement just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They belonged to a violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus.

The night bus was one of the best experiences I had, and I've been in a flying car. It seemed like everyone on the bus was mad, which mirrored my vibe quite well. I sat in a corner and opened my suitcase checking to see if I had forgotten something and trying to remain balanced, as Harry talked to the conductor. Marge's face as she floated away is now imprinted into my brain, which is good I'll remember it every time I'm sad, it ought to cheer me up. But I kept thinking back to Harry's reaction, I know for a fact that I was as angry as he was, but he just couldn't control his magic, it baffled me, he was never the one to lose it, I looked up at him, he was apparently talking to the conductor about something in the newspaper, he said something, I couldn't hear it, but both the driver and conductor flinched violently. I don't know why he keeps using you-know-who's name, everyone is probably terrified of it for a reason. Does it have to do with his scar? The way it kept hurting him when you know who is near. This fact had bothered me quite a while since Hermione told me about it. Apparently, Harry had failed to mention it to me. I had tried to look through a few books in the library last school year, but there were no records for something like that. Scars and wounds aren't supposed to act that way. I know I'm the last person that should judge someone else's outburst, but I was getting a little worried about him. To emit that amount of magic without a wand is not normal even for wizards under the age of eleven, who have outbursts like that all the time. I made a mental note that if I ever make it back to Hogwarts I'll keep looking in the library. Still, my decision is made, if there's an inquiry about which of us did magic I'm going to say it's me, it's the best-case scenario.

The bus stopped and I realized we were in London. I could vividly make out the leaky cauldron's sign in the distance. I had no idea how we got here so fast, I don't even know what are we going to do here. Of course, having access to our Gringotts vault would be comforting, we don't have anywhere else to go, maybe the barrow? But the Weasleys aren't even home. Yes, it was our best option.

Except it wasn't. A man I had seen in Hagrid's hut several months ago, stood in the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, Cornelius Fudge, minister of Magic.

"We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts"

Wait, they don't? Well, then what if I-

No way

But why does he get to-

Emma, NO

Fine.

I finished my side conversation with my voice of reason and sighed in relief, Harry is not going to be questioned or expelled. Of course, the news that the Dursleys would take us back wasn't my idea of relief, but I was just glad I didn't have to go back right now. Harry then proceeded to ask the freaking minister of magic to sign his Hogsmead permission slip, Fudge refused a little too fast.

"Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't . . . yes . . . well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry" he said, and then looked at me for a second, he looked like he was struggling with something, finally, he said "Miss. Potter, would mind if I have a word in private?"

"Of course, Minister," I said, ignoring Harry's worried confused look and stepped out of the Leaky cauldron with Fudge.

He studied me quietly, I started clenching my fists, but then caught myself and stopped.

"Miss. Potter, you are aware of the circumstances of Black's escape, right?"

"To some extent, yes"

"Well, Minerva had informed me that you are somewhat more sensible than your brother"

I didn't know what that obvious fact was relevant, so I just kept looking at him, confused, so he continued.

"Black was...a very close supporter to you know how, he was a very powerful death eater" he took a pause then continued, his voice a little horse, "Now of course there's no need for any worry, the ministry have everything under control, but one can't be too careful"

"Is Black after Harry?" I asked abruptly, my tone came off too aggressive.

"Well, no, he's not after Harry per se, but being the one who presumably ended you know who, we can only assume that Black might want to take revenge"

My heart was starting to beat a little too fast, I was stopping myself from clenching my fists with all my will, my lungs were getting a little tight. It must have shown that I was paranoid because Fudge then blurted out. "Again, it's nothing to worry about, I'm just telling you because I hope I can trust you to maybe keep Harry from wondering a little too far or getting it into his head to find Black"

I swallowed bitterly and took a deep breath, "of course, minister, you don't have to worry about it"

After Fudge left I stood outside for a minute, breathing in the freezing air and collecting myself. If the minister of Magic was asking a twelve-year-old for help, then it must be serious. I've read about Azkaban, and the fact that anyone was able to escape that place was horrifying in itself, but the fact that that person is possibly after my brother, is another thing. I took another deep breath and got inside. Tom, the innkeeper, had gotten us a room.

"What did he want?" Asked Harry the moment I got in.

"He just asked me to restate what happened with Marge again," I said simply.

"Why wouldn't he ask you here?"

"I think he wanted to make sure there aren't any details that I didn't want to say in front of you," I said sitting down on one of the beds and faking a yawn, "he's a weird man if you ask me, anyway, I'm exhausted"

If one day, I live long enough to apply for a job and they ask for a CV, I'm going to write "lying to Harry Potter" under special skills.