Mia Potter was the other Potter. Looking almost identical to her mother, she was a force to be reckoned with. But there was only one person who could reckon with her, and his name was Draco Malfoy.
In which the youngest Potter twin finds herself fa...
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It was the summer holidays and Mia was sitting on her bed, wrapping tape around her skateboard that Dudley broke because he threw it at the wall. Harry was sitting at their shared desk, looking through the photo book Hagrid gave Mia at the end of the previous term. As the twins sat in silence, their owls, Prongs and Hedwig, were hooting and screeching in their cages, desperate to get out.
"We can't let you out, guys," Harry said, looking at them, "we're not allowed to use magic outside of school." Hedwig began nibbling at her lock, squawking loudly as Prongs began beating his wings against his cage. "Besides, if Uncle Vernon. . . ."
"Euphemia and Harry Potter!" roared Uncle Vernon from downstairs. Mia groaned.
"Now you've done it," Mia said, putting her fixed skateboard to the side before getting off her bed and walking downstairs with Harry. They headed down the stairs and into the kitchen where their Aunt Petunia was decorating a cake.
"He's in there," she said once she noticed the twins. "Vernon."
The twins walked into the living room where Uncle Vernon was sorting Dudley's bow-tie out.
"I'm warning you," Vernon said, "if you can't control those bloody birds, they'll have to go."
"But they're bored," Mia said, "if we could only let them out for an hour or two."
"So you can send secret messages to your freaky little friends?" Vernon asked chuckling, "no, sir."
"But we haven't had any messages from any of our friends," Harry said, "not one. All summer." Mia nodded, feeling hurt and forgotten by her friends.
"Who would want to be friends with you?" Dudley said bitterly, barging his shoulder with Mia's as he walked past. Mia had a look of annoyance on her face as she clenched her jaw to keep her mouth shut.
"I should think you'd be a little more grateful," Vernon said, "we've raised you since you a were a baby, given you the food off our table, even let you have Dudley's second bedroom, purely out of the goodness of our hearts."
Mia pursed her lips as Dudley reached out a fat hand to eat the cake his mother had been decorating. It was a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets.
"Not now, bumpkins. It's for when the Masons arrive."
'Of course,' Mia thought bitterly, 'Uncle Vernon is talking about his stupid dinner party.'
He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).
"Which should be any minute," Vernon said as he motioned for his family to come into the living room. "Now, let's go over our schedule once again, shall we? Petunia, when the Masons arrive, you will be. . . .?"
