What if Harry Potter had a twin? What happens when both of them survived the killing curse? What if the wizarding world only knew of one of the twins, while the other was sent away?
Meet Mila Potter, the youngest assassing raised in the red room. Fi...
Friday 29th September 1995 – one day later: Hogwarts, Scotland
Friday evening rolled around quickly. Surprisingly, Professor Slytherin had in fact handed her essays out to her professors the night prior. They had all managed to get them back to her, all very impressed with her grades – she had achieved full marks in all the extra credit essays she had done.
At dinner, Astoria couldn't help but ask how she had managed to get such high grades without using her textbooks or notes. Mila wasn't sure how to reply, so she settled for, "I have a good memory."
The rest of the group chuckled, and the conversation swiftly moved on. Despite her teachers praise, Mila couldn't help but feel anxious. She had this growing pool of anxiousness and nerves in her stomach and intestines, threatening to make her regurgitate all her food, right then and there.
The thought was discomforting. Mila looked around at the rest of the students. They all seemed to enjoy the feast, which had been prepared as a congratulations for everyone's hard work. Mila couldn't help but envy those around her. They ate the food with such ease, they laughed, they joked. Mila knew she would likely never have that.
She was too broken. Too heartless. Too cold.
Mila sat next to Astoria once again and listened as her friends joked about the Gryffindors coming last in the rankings.
"I bet 10 Galleons Weasley will be last," Theo exclaimed, clearly overconfident.
"I think Granger won't be in the outstanding rank this year," Enzo joked.
They all turned to look at him, clearly realising something. They turned to face her, and Mila couldn't help but ask, "What?"
"I bet 20 galleons that Mila will come first." Draco and Blaise said at the same time. She looked at them confused.
"Why would you think that?"
Everyone chuckled. "You are the most ambitious person we have ever met. You study harder than Granger or any of the other Ravenclaws." Enzo laughed with Astoria as they reflected on times where she would rather have studied than gone out with them.
Mila smiled but couldn't help but feel dejected. She hadn't been able to go out with them as she didn't have a slip to go to Hogsmeade. Her guardians would never sign it for her, and Dumbledore would rather die than be publicly associated with her. That left her with two options; stay and study/spy or sneak out and possibly get into trouble.
Mila continued joking with them, not letting anyone see how their comments affected her, wanting to enjoy the happy mood.
The rest of the night continued that way and soon enough Mila was tucked safely into bed, Nala and Astraea curled into her sides. Mila would hear Astoria's soft snores as she stared up at the ceiling, questioning her very existence.
Sometimes she wondered whether it would be easier to just kill herself. Then she would remember that if Natasha and Yelena got out, then so could she. Then she would remember that both of them had the opportunity to bring her with them, but they didn't, leaving her feeling depressed all over again.
The cycle of dark thoughts and the planning for the mission overwhelmed her mind. Soon enough, Mila found that she was struggling to breathe. She managed to shakily get herself sat up on the side of her bed to glance at the clock. It was 5:54 a.m. Although it meant people would be up soon, it also meant that she hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep.
As Mila tried to push herself up off the bed, she grew dizzy and found that it was getting even harder to breathe. She didn't know what to do. Then before she could react, bile rose up into her mouth.
Unfortunately, Mila didn't know what to do. Her mind was hazy and cloudy, stopping coherent thoughts from surfacing. That left her with two options: move and spew her guts out but stop breathing properly or vomit everywhere and keep breathing but leave a disgusting stench for Astoria to wake up to.
When another wave of dizziness flew through her, she tried to make her way to the bathroom, stumbling as she did so. She quickly released the content of her mouth into the sink. She managed to clean the sink out before she fell to the floor from dizziness.
Mila laid on the floor completely useless as she regained her strength, still unable to breathe. When she felt strong enough, she managed to make her way out of her dorm and towards the professor's quarters. She knew this was going to be embarrassing but she was scared. She didn't know what was happening – she had never felt this before. At least not to this extent.
She stumbled through the hallway before tripping on her own two feet and landing face first onto the floor. She could feel blood pouring out of her nose from the impact but couldn't help but relax against the cold of the marble floor. She yelped, most of the impact landing straight on her nose.
The noise must have been louder than she thought as a door opened a couple moments later. Someone managed to gently flip her over onto her back, but she couldn't tell who it was. Her vision was now hazy, and the heat was overwhelming. She could no longer concentrate on anything around her. She still couldn't breathe.
Nevertheless, she could hear someone say her name – they sounded so distant though.
"Miss Potter, try to focus."
"Miss Potter, keep your eyes open,"
"Mila, look at me."
Slowly, her eyes refocused and she could now make out Slytherin, Snape and Malfoy Snr. kneeling around her.
Mila couldn't help but whimper, "Can't breathe." Her voice was itchy as there was barely any air left to use.
An influx of questions came her way once again, but before she could answer, everything went black.
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