Chapter 1
Harry Potter’s first memory of magic wasn’t magic at all.
It was his sister standing on the kitchen table and declaring war.
“I refuse.”
Uncle Vernon lowered his newspaper.
Aunt Petunia stopped stirring her tea.
Harry looked up from the floor where he was drawing a dragon with a broken crayon.
His sister crossed her arms.
She was six years old.
She was also apparently fearless.
“I refuse to wear that.”
Petunia blinked.
“What?”
His sister pointed dramatically at the pink dress draped over a chair.
“That.”
Harry immediately abandoned his drawing.
This was going to be good.
“It’s a perfectly lovely dress,” Aunt Petunia said tightly.
“It’s horrible.”
“It is not horrible.”
“It looks like a strawberry exploded.”
Harry snorted.
His sister grinned.
Aunt Petunia looked seconds away from fainting.
“Young lady—”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
Uncle Vernon folded his newspaper.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
“No?”
His sister nodded.
“No.”
Harry watched in fascination.
This was the verbal equivalent of watching someone poke a dragon.
Repeatedly.
With a stick.
“You will wear the dress.”
“I will not.”
“You will.”
“I won’t.”
“You—”
“I’d rather fight a troll.”
The room fell silent.
His sister frowned.
“What’s a troll?”
Nobody knew.
Least of all her.
But Harry burst out laughing anyway.
The second he did, she started laughing too.
And just like that, the argument was over.
Not because Vernon or Petunia had given up.
Because neither twin could stop laughing.
Eventually Vernon shouted.
Eventually Petunia threatened punishment.
Eventually the dress disappeared.
But Harry and his sister spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in their room, giggling every time one of them said:
“I’d rather fight a troll.”
⸻
Their bedroom wasn’t much.
Two beds.
One wardrobe.
A window that looked out over Privet Drive.
But it was theirs.
And that made it important.
His sister lay upside down across her bed.
Harry sat on the floor building a castle from old books.
Or attempting to.
The tower collapsed.
Again.
“Your architecture is tragic.”
Harry threw a sock at her.
She caught it.
“Violence.”
“Deserved.”
“Probably.”
The sock joined the growing collection of random objects scattered across her side of the room.
Harry sometimes wondered how she found anything.
Then again, she wondered how he found anything.
The twins had been arguing about organization for years.
Neither had won.
His sister rolled onto her stomach.
“What do you think happens when we grow up?”
Harry didn’t look up.
“We get jobs.”
“That sounds awful.”
“We buy a house.”
“Still awful.”
“We get old.”
She made a face.
“Horrible.”
Harry laughed.
“You asked.”
“I was hoping for adventure.”
“Adventure isn’t real.”
His sister sat up so quickly she nearly fell off the bed.
“Adventure is absolutely real.”
“No it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“No.”
“Is.”
“No.”
“Harry.”
“What?”
“One day I’m going to prove you wrong.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“How?”
She looked toward the window.
Toward the world beyond Privet Drive.
And smiled.
The kind of smile she got whenever she was dreaming.
The kind Harry secretly liked best.
“I’m going everywhere.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“That’s not a place.”
“It is if you’re determined enough.”
Harry snorted.
“You hate walking.”
“I’ll travel comfortably.”
“There it is.”
She threw a pillow.
Harry barely dodged.
The pillow hit the wall.
A moment later another followed.
Then another.
Within minutes a full-scale battle had broken out.
The twins were still laughing when Aunt Petunia opened the door.
And for a brief second—
Just a brief second—
Harry thought he saw something strange.
A look on her face.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Something else.
Something almost sad.
Then it vanished.
“Honestly,” she said. “What am I supposed to do with the two of you?”
His sister grinned.
“Love us?”
Petunia stared.
Harry held his breath.
The room became quiet.
For a moment nobody moved.
Then Petunia shook her head and closed the door.
The twins looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
Neither understood why the room suddenly felt different.
After a moment, his sister flopped backward onto her bed.
“Well.”
Harry blinked.
“Well what?”
“If we’re going to be trapped here forever—”
“We’re not trapped.”
“We absolutely are.”
“Fine.”
She pointed at him.
“When we escape—”
“Escape?”
“When we escape.”
Harry sighed.
“You are impossible.”
“And you’re coming with me.”
Harry smiled despite himself.
Maybe adventure wasn’t real.
But if his sister was involved, life was never boring.