The Other Potter: Book 1

Chapter 1

Being a Potter was difficult. No, beyond difficult. Being a Potter meant that you had to give up your life for the greater good, despite what you wanted. I had learned this the hard way.

Harry and I were twins, but unlike him I was a spitting image of my mother. My long red hair was always tied back, or in braids, so it wouldn't get in the way of my daily life as it was a hassle to maintain or tame. My green eyes were often hidden behind round shaped glasses, which I had had since I was five. Harry and I were vastly different, not only in our looks, but in our demeanor. Harry didn't go looking for fights, however they did have a habit of finding him. I, on the other hand, was quick to my temper which caused multiple fights in my primary schools.

Harry and I had been taken in by our aunt and uncle after our parents died in a horrible car crash. We grew up together, living in the small cupboard under the stairs (trading the bed off each night), until our eleventh birthday. It was then that we found out who we really were, and what really happened that night our parents died.

We were wizards, well a wizard and a witch, and our parents had sacrificed their lives to protect us against a dark wizard. Voldemort. Hagrid had crashed into the shack on the island that night, and blew our minds. Harry had shown signs of magic as we were growing up, regrowing his hair or shrinking that awful sweater, so it made sense for him. But I had shown no signs, not ones like him at least.

Hagrid had assured me that I was indeed a witch, and that my magic had manifested in other ways.

"Remember all those times you got into fights?" Hagrid had said, handing me a sausage the next morning.

"Yeah?"

"Ever wonder why you were always itching for a fight? It was your magic trying to find a way out."

He had gone on to tell me that fighting wasn't allowed at Hogwarts, so I best find a different outlet if I didn't want to be expelled.

We left after that, going to Diagon alley and shopped for all our school supplies. I was still trying to get a grip on the reality of the situation, and my twins' new found stardom only made it harder. Everywhere we went, Harry was smiled at. People went out of their way to shake his hand, welcoming him back to the wizard world, telling him it was an honor to meet him. But I was all but forgotten when it came to these people, a shadow to my brother.

"Why doesn't anyone know about Nola?"

Ah there it was, Harry's nickname for me. My full name was Enola, but I barely let anyone call me by that name. Harry was able to on occasion, but he much preferred the nickname.

"It's complicated." Hagrid said, looking down at his soup.

"Then uncomplicate it." I said, as gentle as I could muster.

Hagrid sighed, pushing the bowl of soup away from him, then spoke. "Your parents weren't expecting twins. It was only supposed to be young Harry here. After yer Mum gave birth, they got wind that You Know Who had marked them for death, so they went into hiding."

"And the night they died?" Harry asked, pushing for more information.

"I don't know much about that, Harry. But what I do know is that You Know Who either didn't know about Enola, or she was hidden once he arrived. As far as we know, no one but your parents' closest friends knew."

And there it was. No one knew that I was a Potter, or that I was even alive. Our parents hadn't had time to tell anyone, therefore I never existed. It was harsh, but I saw it as an opportunity. To make something of myself, apart from my brother's name and reputation.

Harry and I had arrived at Kings Cross Station the morning of our first year, far more confused as to how to get on the platform than when Dudley had grown a pigs tail. A plump, sweet looking woman had instructed us on how to get onto the platform, and soon her son was following my brother around like a lost puppy.