Emma and the Boy Under the Stairs

Preface

The train continued it’s journey from the place I once called home. I made my way back to my compartment after changing into the long black robe I had purchased a few weeks ago. I sat down across from the two boys I shared the compartment with. The red haired boy was showing my cousin a box of flavored beans that looked to be tasty. Cousin. I was still so used to calling him that. I sat back in my seat, staring absentmindedly out the window. I watched the landscape quickly pass as the memories of the past month and a half flooded back into my head. All of the lies and pain those people had caused us both. I wondered if they were upset with my leaving still. I had not written to them since that cold and dark night. Do they miss me at all? I wondered. I allowed a tear to fall upon my face as the voice of the man I used to call father rung in my ears.

Chapter One

Ms. E. Potter

"There's no such thing as magic," I heard my father scream. We all had just returned from the zoo where something particularly unusual happened. The five of us, my mum, dad, brother Dudley, cousin Harry and I were all peering into the snake habitat. Dudley became bored with the creature, as it sat unmoving in it's cage. He slumped off with mum and dad, in search of the komodo dragon. Harry and I stayed with the snake, Harry apologizing for Dudley's rude behavior. The snake oddly nodded his head and winked towards Harry and I. Harry began talking to the snake and it seemed that it understood every word.

Dudley ran over to us, pushing Harry and I to the ground in his excitement over the snake's movement. Dudley placed his hands on the glass to the enclosure, and I watched as the glass disappeared out of site, causing him to fall in. The snake slithered out and winked one last time at Harry, before moving towards the exit, quickly disappearing from site.

Father of course blamed Harry, as he had saw him laughing at Dudley's circumstance; the glass had reappeared trapping Dudley inside the enclosure. Harry was locked in his "room" for far too many days. Even if Harry didn't make that glass disappear, I would have pounded him for pushing Harry and I to the ground myself. He made my head bleed once I fell, causing me to get four stitches. But he was never punished for it. Mum said he didn't mean it; he was just excited she said. I know the truth though.

Harry has always been highly mistreated by my parents, and most especially by Dudley. My mum and aunt Lily never got along well, even after Harry's birth. They had not spoken for many years when Harry was left on our doorstep after Aunt Lily and her husband James died ten years ago. Mum and Dad gave him the broom cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom, and gave him Dudley's outgrown clothes that were four sizes too big and faded. I never understood why Harry has always been so mistreated. I know that Mum and Aunt Lily did not like each other much, but Harry should not be punished for that.

Harry and I have always been close. We spend nearly every minute in each others company, when I'm not at dance class or when Mum gives him a break from cooking and cleaning. Dudley is not the only one who gets his way. When I had a ballet recital this past May, I wanted very much to have Harry there, though I knew Mum and Dad would be shocked that I would have the nerve to ask. I had watched Dudley throw many tantrums, so I was nearly an expert at them even though I had never actually thrown one myself. After days of me slamming doors and screaming, Harry was allowed to come watch me dance.

It has been a week since the zoo incident now. Dad let Harry out of the cupboard officially, whilst Mum made breakfast and Dudley drummed on the table with his Smelting stick. (Smeltings is a private school Dad had attended in his youth). Harry and Dad walked into the kitchen, while I walked upstairs to my bedroom to grab my camera, notebook and pen. I had received the camera for my birthday, which was on the 23rd of June. Mum and Dad had purchased ten rolls of film to start me off. One day, they told me, they would build me a dark room so that I could produce the photographs myself. I took quite a lot of photographs with Harry. I am only five away from filling in the photo album I will give to him on his birthday next week.

I came down the steps to see Harry at the door, picking up the mail on the mat in front of the door. I peered over his shoulder to see if I had received anything.

“Anything for me Harry,” I asked.

“It doesn’t look like it, Emma,” he said. He looked the mail over. There was a post card from Dad’s sister Marge, a brown envelope that was most likely a bill, and two letters. One was addressed:

Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging,
Surrey

It was a strange occurrence; Harry never received anything in the mail. I was his only friend. There was another letter addressed to a Ms. E. Potter in the Second Bedroom on the Left. I wonder who this E. Potter is. There wasn’t an E. Potter living here, though the letter had our address upon it. The second bedroom on the left? My bedroom was the second one upstairs on the left side of the hallway. Could the letter be possibly for me? Perhaps because of Harry and I being so close, the person sending the letter just assumed we had the same last name.

“Who’s E. Potter,” Harry asked my question aloud. He looked at me in confusion.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I think maybe it is for me. Surely someone around the neighborhood saw us playing together and assumed we had the same name. Let me see it.”

Harry handed me the letter and walked into the kitchen. Before I could open it, I heard my father hollering at Harry and Dudley about the letter. I saw the two shoved out the kitchen door and watched it slam in their faces. I could hear my mum and dad talking but I could not hear their words. Their tone seemed frightened and angry at once. Dudley peeked in the keyhole, while Harry tried to listen at the crack on the bottom of the door. I rushed over to them, tucking away the envelope in my notebook’s pocket.

“What’s going on,” I asked Harry as I kneeled down to listen beside him.

“Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are angry about the letter,” Harry said, “I wonder why.”

“What did the letter say,” I asked him in confusion.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, looking at me, “I didn’t have the chance to open it, thanks to Dudley. He tattled to Uncle Vernon that I had a letter.”

I flicked Dudley on the back of his leg for tattling and listened to the voices behind the door.

They kept on talking about the letter and about what to do with it. Dad ultimately decided that ignoring the letter altogether would be best. He thought if the person sending the letter did not get a response, then they would leave us and Harry alone.

Dudley left the house, saying how bored he was, after Mum and Dad finished talking. Harry and I went outside in the backyard to talk. We went to sit in a corner, far away from my parents ears.

“Where is your letter,” Harry asked me.
“I put it in my notebook,” I said, “I’m not sure if I will open it.”

“Why not,” Harry asked, “are you not curious about who sent the letter.”

“Well,” I began, “I don’t want Mum and Dad to be mad at me getting a letter too. I shall keep it, though, in case I change my mind.”

Later on in the evening, after I had changed into my pajamas, I could not stand not knowing anymore. I wished Mum, Dad and Harry goodnight and raced up the stairs to my bedroom. I did not bother to lock the door since I knew Mum and Dad would not be upstairs for at least an hour. I located my notebook and flashlight and shut the lights out. I switched on the flashlight and sat in the middle of my bed, legs crossed. I opened my notebook and slowly took out the envelope within, my hands shaking as I did. I flipped the envelope over, which was a yellowish parchment and the address written in emerald-green ink, and stared at the back. I saw a purple was seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter H. I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter it contained. The letter read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards.)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Another letter was enclosed:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Uniform
First year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Course Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
By Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment
1 Wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Hogwarts? Witchcraft and Wizardry? They await my owl? I was so very confused. Someone obviously was playing a joke on me and Harry. I put the letters back in the envelope and walked over to my dresser. Mum never looked in my drawers, so I knew the letters would be safe. I slid the envelope beneath my school shirts, switched off my flashlight and climbed into bed. I laid my hands underneath my head, thinking hard about what I had just read. I know magic is not real; Dad said so on an almost daily basis. The letters had to be a prank. But what if it wasn’t? It would surely explain the odd occurrences Harry and I had had. Once, Harry accidentally turned our teacher’s wig blue; another time, he and I disappeared onto the school kitchen roof to escape Dudley and his moronic friends. Another thing was when Mum tried to shove Dudley’s old jumper over Harry’s head and it unexpectedly shrunk. I had even made my porcelain ballerinas come to life and dance on my desk; but I was very tired from a busy day, I must have been dreaming. And then that zoo incident. It all made sense. Harry is a wizard and I am a witch. What a silly thought.

Chapter Two

Owls

A week had passed since I received that letter. I did not tell Mum and Dad and I did not even tell Harry what the letter had said. I was not sure that it was even real, so why bother Harry with something so silly?

My parents were constantly on edge that week. Harry had received many more letters even after he was moved into Dudley’s second bedroom. Dudley kept his old toys and other things in there; he was quite unhappy when Harry was allowed to move into it. Even after Dudley whined and complained for days, Dad continued to let Harry stay in the bedroom. Harry told me he would have rather stayed in his cupboard than to be so close to Dudley. He was, however, happy to be closer to me. We made up our own Morse Code and tapped the codes onto the walls with a pen when Mum and Dad were sleeping.

Sunday had arrived. Dad was happy for this day, as he said there was no post on Sundays; so no more letters for Harry. Harry and I sat by the window in the living room, whilst Dad was in his recliner, Mum and Dudley on the couch enjoying the cookies Harry had made. I heard a screech outside and pulled back the curtain. Harry noticed my staring out and turned to look as well. On top of Dad’s car, in our front yard and in the street sat hundreds of owls. In the next moment, I heard a rumbling and turned to look towards the sound. The sound became so loud, I had to put my hands up to my ears to shut some of it out. Something shot out of the fireplace and hit Dad in the face. Then, hundreds of what looked like that same yellowish parchment envelope poured out of the chimney and high up into the air and around the room. Dad shouted at us.

“Out, OUT!” he screamed.

Dudley, Mum and I rushed out into the hallway. I turned around to see where Harry was. He was jumping into the air, attempting to catch one of the letters. He caught one, looked at it and ran before Dad could catch him. Dad caught up to him and grabbed the envelope from him.

“It’s my letter!,” Harry shouted, “give it to me!”

Dad yelled back at him and told us all to pack up, we were going away, far from the letters.

Dudley hollered about not being able to take his television, keeping us all waiting ten minutes. I quickly packed up my ballet shoes, notebook and pen, camera and film, clothes, a couple porcelain dolls and the letter. I also packed up my baby blanket. I slept with it each night since I was a baby. It was knitted white, with my name, Emma Isabelle, stitched into the middle in rainbow colours. We then packed up in the car and Dad drove us off. We stayed in so many places that week, that I stopped keeping count. Each place we stayed received stacks of Harry’s letters. None though, had received any for me. I had supposed that since I opened it, then whoever sent it must know that I had.

We ended up staying in an old shack on a large rock in the middle of deep waters. It was frighteningly cold outside of it and even colder inside. There were just two rooms in the shack. Mum and Dad slept on the lumpy bed next door, Dudley slept on the moth-eaten sofa, and Harry and I were forced to curl up on the floor; he underneath the thinnest, most ragged blanket, and I beneath my baby blanket. I offered to share my pink sweater with him for a pillow, but he declined saying that it was only big enough for me to use. We stayed up late that night, counting away the minutes to his 11th birthday; which would be in a few minutes. Right as Dudley’s wrist watch beeped that it was midnight, there was a loud BOOM! at the door. Harry and I sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone outside was knocking to come in.

Chapter Three

The Truth Comes Forth

Harry and I stood up quickly and hid beside the fireplace; Harry using his arm to push me as far as he could to hide me from whomever was behind the door. Dudley jumped up from the sofa and climbed atop the table the was standing beneath a window near the fireplace. Dad came down the stairs with a shotgun, Mum behind him.

“Who’s there,” he called in a trembling whisper.

With one last loud boom at the door, it came clean off it’s hinges; landing on the dirty floor below. An enormous silhouette stood in the doorway for a mere moment. It then stepped inside the hut, it’s large feet sending vibrations throughout the walls and floorboards. The giant man picked the door up and fixed it to the frame, quietly apologizing for knocking it off. He had messy black hair and a matching beard which nearly covered his face completely. He wore a green overcoat and brown pants and shoes to match. He walked over to the sofa and sat down upon it, causing it to sink to the ground. He asked a few times for tea, but nobody moved to make it. Dad still stood on the steps, pointing the gun towards the giant; all the while staying silent. The giant made a fire, though I am unsure how as we had no matches and I was certain the logs in the fireplace were much too old to burn.

The giant stood up and looked around, his eyes landing on Dudley.

“Well, Harry I haven’t seen you since you was a baby. You‘re a bit more along than I would have expected, particularly in the middle,” he said, patting his own belly.

Dudley fearfully spoke to the giant. He stuttered on nearly every word.

“I..I’m..not Harry,” He said.

“Oh,” the giant questioned, “then who is?”

Harry gave me a looked that said for me to stay put. He cautiously stepped toward the giant.

“I..I am,” Harry said.

“Well, of course you are,” said the giant, “I have something for you. I’m afraid I may have sat on it a little bit but I’m sure it will taste just the same.”

He pulled a white box with green ribbon from his overcoat and handed it to Harry. He opened the box and looked inside to see a medium sized cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ written on it.

“Thank you,” Harry said, looking up at the giant.

“Baked it myself,” said the giant, “words and all.”

The giant then pulled pink box from his coat that had a blue ribbon wrapped around it.
“Now,” he said, “where is Miss Emma?”

I stopped breathing and froze with fear. How did this man know my name? Had he met me before as well? I let out a long breathe and slowly stepped forward.

“Here, sir,” I said. I then greeted him as I greeted every person upon meeting. I held my dress out with the tips of my fingers and curtsied lowly. I came back up and let go of my dress clasping my hands together in front of me. The giant smiled at my pleasantries and handed the box over to me. I pulled off the ribbon and opened the box. It contained the same cake, but ‘Happy Birthday Emma’ was written on it instead. I smiled up at the giant.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, still beaming.

“Why you are most welcome Emma,” he said.

He sat back down on the sofa and poured some tea he had made in fireplace into a cup. He sipped on it while Harry and I looked on curiously. Harry sat his cake down on the arm of the sofa and stepped closer to the giant.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but, who are you?”

“Rubeus Hagrid,” he said, “call me Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and grounds at Hogwarts.”

I breathed in a harsh breath, my eyes growing wide as Hagrid said the last word. Hogwarts? That is where my letter had come from. I knew in that moment that it was not a joke at all. Hogwarts was real, Harry was a wizard and I, a witch. I stepped backward and sat in the chair by the table. Dudley was still sitting on top of it, frozen as he watched every tiny thing Hagrid did. I sat the pink box with my cake on the table, then moved it off and sat it next to my suitcase underneath it. I did not want Dudley to steal it like he did each dessert that was ever set in front of me. I silently listened to Hagrid, allowing the shock of it all to drain from me. I almost knew in that instant the truth about who I really was. I believed in my heart the reason behind Mum and Aunt Lily not speaking. Mum had always called her a freak, and now I understood why. Aunt Lily must have been a witch as well. Mum was not one, I knew that and that must have been why Mum hated her so. I think she was envious of Aunt Lily. Of course, Aunt Lily was not my aunt at all. A few days before we left home, I found a secret pocket in my baby blanket. I never noticed it before. I reached inside to see if anything was in it. I had pulled a photograph from it. The photograph had a red haired woman, a dark haired man with glasses and two babies were in their arms. The baby girl was held by the woman and the baby boy by the man. They seemed familiar, though I had never met them before. I had looked at the photograph with my magnifying glass and noticed something which made me cry. The baby girl was wrapped in a white knitted blanket, and one part of it read the letters Em. The rest of the letters were covered up by the woman’s arm. The letters were the same colours as the first letter in my name on my own baby blanket. The man and woman had to be relatives of mine that Mum never told me about. The woman and I had the same shade of red hair and the man and I had matching eyes. I thought it about the picture for the whole trip. They were not just any relatives, I had realized. I believe that the man and woman were my biological parents. The baby boy, however, I had no idea who it was. I knew it was not Dudley. I had seen his baby pictures and he looked nothing like this baby boy. The giant was now handing Harry a letter. I stopped my thinking and listened in fully to the conversation.

Harry opened the letter and read it aloud.

“Dear Mr. Potter,” he said, “we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Harry looked up at Hagrid with a smile.

Dad came down the stairs. Hagrid had taken his shotgun from him moments earlier and had thrown it in a corner. Dad’s face was red and puffy from his anger at Hagrid.

“He will not be going I tell you,” he said, “we swore when we took them in we’d put a stop to all this rubbish!”

Them? Did I hear him correctly?

“You knew!” Harry shouted, “you knew all along and you never told me?”
Mum came down the steps and walked towards Harry, stopping by Dad.

“Well of course we knew,” she said, “and how could you not be. My perfect sister being who she was. My mother and father were proud of the day she got her letter. “We have a witch in the family.” I was the only one who saw her for what she was: a freak! And then she met that Potter and had you and I knew you would be just the same. Just as strange and….abnormal! And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you.”

“Blown up!,” Harry said, “you told me my parents died in a car crash.”

“A CAR CRASH,” Hagrid bellowed, “a car crash killed Lily and James Potter! It’s an outrage, a scandal.”

“He will not be going,” Dad told Hagrid.

“Oh and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop him,” Hagrid taunted.

“Muggle,” I asked.

Hagrid looked at me, “Non magic folk.”

He turned back to Mum and Dad, “these two have had their names known since the day they were born. And they’ll be going to the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world and he’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore.”

“These two,” I asked Hagrid, “what do you mean by these two.”

Hagrid looked at me in both shock and confusion.

“Don’t you even know who you are girl,” he asked, “you got yer letter didn’t ya?”

Mum and Dad looked at me with tears and wide eyes.

“Oh no,” Mum said, “not you too.”
“Emma?” Dad asked.

I bent down to pick up my notebook that Hagrid was standing on. He moved his foot away so that I could show what was inside. I slid the envelope out and handed it to Mum. She snatched it from me and read it aloud.

“Ms. E. Potter. Second Door On The Left, 4 Privet Drive, Little Winging,” Mum chocked on the last word, “Surrey.”

“Oh Petunia,” Dad said, “I knew we should not have lied. Now we are being punished for it.”

“So it’s true?” I asked angrily, “my last name is Potter! How could you lie to me? Harry is my brother, right? So why treat him differently? Why keep my brother from me?”

Dad looked over at Mum, who was sobbing into her hands now.

“Go ahead Petunia,” he said, “you tell her. It was your idea in the first place.”

Mum looked up at me sadly. She reached her hands out to me, but I refused them. We had always had good relationship, so this action caused her to cry a bit harder. She looked around, trying to find the words to explain.

“I had always wanted a daughter,” she began, “after I had Dudley, I knew I could never have another child. I had hated my sister for being what she was. But when you came along, I felt I could finally have my daughter. You were nothing at all what I expected. You had never met me, and the moment I held you in my arms, you clung to me as if we had always been apart of each other’s lives. I knew then that I could never let you go. I felt more love for you than I ever have for Harry. He reminded me too much of what I was trying to forget. The only disheartening thing I encountered with you was your hair. It grew into red curls, you looked so much like her. Like Lily.”

I sat back down on the chair, soaking in her words. My whole life made much more sense now. The blue wig, the zoo, my porcelain dolls. The redness of my hair, never fading even when Mum attempted to change it with peroxide. I had one more question to ask her; possibly the most important. For this question, I pulled out the photograph from my blanket and handed it to Mum.

“Is this my mum and dad,” I asked, “it had no names on the back of it.”

“Yes,” she said, “and you and Harry.”

She handed it back, which surprised me. I expected her to rip it to bits. I handed it over to Harry, he had tears in his eyes realizing that he had a sister his whole life and never knew.
I looked up at Hagrid. He was oddly quiet the whole time.

“So,” I said, “is it my birthday today too?”

“Oh, er, no,” he said, “your birthday was yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” I asked, “how?”

“Well ya see,” he began,” you were born a few minutes before midnight on July the 30th. And Harry, he was born a few minutes after midnight on the 31st. You’re twins but born on different days.” He finished the sentence with a smile on his face.

“Harry has always been a brother to me,” I said to Hagrid, “now I know why. We’re connected in more ways than I thought.”

“What do you say Edie,” Harry said looking at me with hopeful eyes, “Hogwarts?”

Dad, Vernon, had found his voice again and began shouting.

“Oh NO,” he said, “I will not pay from some crack pot old fool to teach you magic tricks girl!”

Hagrid took his dark pink umbrella and pointed it toward Vernon.

“You. Will not. Insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me,” he said.

He looked over at Dudley. He was pigging out on Harry’s birthday cake, his back toward Hagrid. Hagrid pointed his umbrella at Dudley’s rear and a beam of thin light appeared from the end of it. The light made a curly pig tail on Dudley. He shouted and grabbed at the tail, trying to pull it out. Mum and Vernon shouted and followed Dudley as he ran up the stairs.

Hagrid, Harry and I laughed at him. Hagrid looked at us in desperation then.

“I appreciate it if you won’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that,” he said, “strictly speaking I’m not allowed to use magic.” s

“Okay,” Harry said. I nodded with him.

“Best be getting on our way,” Hagrid said.

Hagrid walked over to the door and opened it. He looked back at us.

“Unless you’d rather stay of course,” Hagrid said, chuckling. He stepped outside. An engine roared to life in the darkness.

Harry looked at me and I looked back. I threw my arms over him and hugged him tightly.

“I’m so happy you’re my real brother Harry,” I said tearfully.

He hugged me back and said, “so am I Edie. So am I.”

I stepped back and looked around. I could still hear them screaming upstairs about Dudley’s tail. I ran over to my suitcase and pulled it out. I unzipped it just enough to stuff the cake box inside of it, along with my notebook and my blanket. Harry gave the photograph back to me after one last look. I slipped it inside of the suitcase between the notebook and blanket. I zipped the suitcase back up and set it up on its side. Harry put his jacket on quickly and helped me carry it outside. Hagrid sat on a periwinkle blue motorcycle with goggles covering his eyes. The motorcycle had a side cart in the same colour with just enough room for Harry and I to sit. The trunk of the side cart was already open. Harry and I slid the suitcase inside and shut the trunk door. He then helped me into the cart and then sat down next to me.
“You better hang on,” Hagrid shouted, “it’s gonna be bumpy!”

Without hesitation, Hagrid slammed on the petal and we shot up into the sky. It felt as if we were in an extraordinarily fast elevator. I grabbed onto the front part of the cart trying to will my body to stay where it was. Ten minutes into the air and I was having the best time of my life. I stuck my arms out to the side. The feeling of the air through my curls was absolutely wonderful.