Jami Evans and the Sorcerer's Stone - Year 1

Can You Keep a Secret?

Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid stared at me in complete, utter shock. And I was staring back at them with eyes as wide as owls'. Shivers ran through my spine as I realized this was real. This was very, very real. Indeed, the grass of the mowed lawn was still fresh in my nose and I inhaled the scent again.

"Albus--" McGonagall whispered, clutching her heart as she gazed at me.

"Professor McGonagall...are you seeing what I am seeing?" Dumbledore replied calmly, gazing at me with amusement in his eyes. At least that's what I'm thinking what it was.

"Sir, I don't know what yer thinkin', but that can't be James Fleamont Potter, right there, can it?" Hagrid said, stumbling back in surprise.

"James Potter?" I questioned, crossing my arms. "I know no James Potter but my friends say I act a lot like his best friend." McGonagall squeaked like a rat.

"My dear, can you tell me what your name is?" Dumbledore asked.

"Jami Blaise Evans--at your service. Best friend of Julius Peterson, Penny Pallia, and Romulus Banner." I bowed, winking as I did so.

"Just as I feared." The Headmaster of Hogwarts said grimly. "My dear, can you tell us who we are?" He questioned.

"Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore. You're Albus Dumbledore, you're Minerva McGonagall, and you're Rubeus Hagrid." I smirked.

Dumbledore sighed, gazing wearily at me. "I'm getting too old for this." He muttered. "Miss Evans...can you keep a secret?" He asked.

"Of course, sir." I nodded.

"We need you to watch over Harry. Be his big sister by a few months. You know what to do." Dumbledore said. "And don't tell anyone about the Wizarding world."

"Aye aye captain." I saluted and Dumbledore waved his wand over me. I felt myself shrinking, my last thoughts being What have I gotten myself into?

Ten years has gone by with mischief, fighting, detentions and other things...

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew and niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy and girl lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter and I were still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Our Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

We both woke with a start. Our aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. We heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. I sighed, wanting to curl back into the covers and entangle back into the limbs that consisted of my brother. Our aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned. I gave him a sympathetic look in the dim light of the cupboard. He only smirked back at me and I suppressed a roll of my eyes.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday -- how could we have forgotten? We got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. I stole one of Harry's shirts and he gave me a exasperated look.

"Aren't you too old to be wearing my shirts?" He asked.

"We're the same size." I pushed the door open and sauntered into the kitchen.

When my brother finished dressing, he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry and I, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. When Dudley couldn't get his hands on Harry, he tried to use me as bait--everyone knew Harry was very protective of me. I yawned, running a hand through my messy hair again. Aunt Petunia gave me a dirty look-she tries to keep fixing my hair but it wouldn't stay. I liked it like that and I didn't want anyone to touch my hair.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

I on the other hand, had the same messy black hair, but I had hazel eyes. I did wear glasses as well. We could've been identified as twins but I was older by a few months.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.