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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Euphemia Potter was a highly unusual girl in many ways. For one thing, she hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, she really wanted to do her homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And she also happened to be a witch, and a very powerful one at that.
It was nearly midnight, and she was lying on her stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over her head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Mia moved the tip of her eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as she looked for something that would help her write her essay, 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless -- discuss.' On the other side of the room, Harry was doing exactly the same as his sister.
The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph. Mia moved her ginger hair off the book, moved his flashlight closer, and read:
Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises.
Mia put her quill between her teeth and reached underneath her pillow for her ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully she unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped her quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of her quill on their way to the bathroom, she'd probably find herself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.
The Dursley family of Number Four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Mia never enjoyed her summer holidays. Excluding Harry, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Mia's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic.
Mia's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Mia ans Harry as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they had not been unsuccessful.
These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Mia and Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Mia and Harry's spell books, wand, cauldron, and Mia's broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid them to talk to the neighbour's.
This separation from his spell books had been a real problem for Mia, because her teachers at Hogwarts had given her a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Mia's least favourite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month.
Mia had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Mia had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of her and Harry's books, and hidden them in their bedroom. As long as they didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that the twins were studying magic by night.
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"Are you ready?" Mia muttered to her brother as they were in their bedroom, getting their shoes on.
"Nope," Harry said bitterly. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Mia and Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest. Mia stood up from tying her shoes and stared at the door.
"Let's go," Mia said and the twins walked down the stairs.
"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as they reached the hall.
Mia and Harry couldn't see the point of trying to make their hair look better. Aunt Marge loved criticising them, so the untidier they looked, the happier she would be.
All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.
"Mia! Harry! Mia, Harry! Open the door."
A feeling of great gloom in her stomach, Mia pulled the door open.
On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a moustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.
Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Mia and Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), he had been forced to call her 'Aunt' all their lives. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs.
Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.
"Uncle Vernon, we need you to sign this form," Mia said, looking slightly nervous as she held her Hogsmeade permission slip in her hand, Harry holding his.
"What is it?" Uncle Vernon asked, taking his coat off.
"Nothing," Harry said, "school stuff."
"Later, perhaps," Uncle Vernon said, "if you behave."
"We will if she does," Mia said, coldly as she leant on the door frame. Aunt Marge looked up and finally acknowledged that Mia and Harry were standing there.
"Oh, you're still here, are you?" she asked as the twins looked at each other.
"Yes," Mia said bluntly.
"Don't say 'yes' in that ungrateful way," Aunt Marge barked as she handed Aunt Petunia Ripper's leash. "Damn good of my brother to keep you. He'd have been straight to an orphanage if he'd been dumped on my doorstep, Vernon."
Mia was bursting to say that she'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped her. They heard laughter from in front of the TV and Aunt Marge
"Is that my Dudders!" Aunt Marge shrieked, striding past Mia and Harry as though they were a hat-stand. "Hm? Is that my neffy poo? Come and say hello to your Auntie Marge."
The twins looked at each other, and exchanged subtle looks.
"Take that upstairs," Uncle Vernon snapped to the twins.
"Kay," Mia said bluntly as she and Harry began taking the suitcase upstairs.
