Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. Vi could go as she wasn't as bad as Harry. Harry didn’t argue or complain, but he wouldn’t let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn’t help it; he felt as though he’d lost one of his best friends.
He had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood,
who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn’t blame him in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left Harry’s bedside only at night. Vi stayed with him every night. But nothing anyone said or did could make Harry feel any better, because they knew only half of what was troubling him.
He hadn’t told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron, Vi and Hermione, because he knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff and he didn't want Vi to get worried. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Knight Bus; the second, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick. Was the Grim going to haunt him until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over
his shoulder for the beast?
And then there were the Dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their head of their dying parents.
Because Harry knew who that screaming voice belonged to now. He had heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while he lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached him, he heard the last moments of his mother’s life, her attempts to protect him, Harry, from Lord Voldemort, and
Voldemort’s laughter before he murdered her…But then which girl was Voldemort talking about? Did he have a sister? No no that's not possible.
One night when Harry was sleeping he had a dream of his mother and Voldemort. He jerked awake. Vi too woke up.
"Harry are you ok?" Vi asked.
"Yeah..." Harry said.
"The same nightmare?" Vi asked.
"Yeah..." Harry said. This was the third time it happened.
"Why don't you just tell me what it is?" Vi said. "Maybe I can divert your mind on something else."
"No Vi... You simply will worry for no reason." Harry said.
"Potter if it is for no reason then I don't think I'll worry. In fact maybe I can help you please.." Vi said.
"No Vi...." Harry said.
McGonagall started taking the names for who will be going back for Christmas holidays.
"You should give your name." Harry told Vi. "No I'm not." Vi said in a very stern voice.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Draco Malfoy’s taunting.
That morning mail arrived. Vi got a letter from her muggle friend.
Dear Vi,
Hey.... How are you.. I.. Don know how to say this.... It is... Sad... Ok so I'm have one of the saddest news and one good news...
YOU ARE READING
Violet Lily Potter. Book 1.
Fanfiction*warning* It's a bit slow at first but it will get interesting soon. What if Harry had a twin sister but didn't know? What if his twin was saved only because of him? In this story this is exactly what happens. They meet on the train to Hogwarts in t...
