Chapter 1: The Philosopher’s Stone and Maria - 1-1

A tiny Albus was crying right in front of my eyes.

─No, that wasn't right.

"Maria, Maria, are you okay?"

"…Uh, ow!?"

"Ma-Maria, does it hurt!? It hurts, doesn't it? What do I do! Maria, please don't die!"

"Shut up, you brats!!"

"Eep!"

A vulgar, unrefined voice thundered from behind the door with the tacky nameplate. It sounded like a pig. No, that’s an insult to pigs; a pig would have far more grace than that.

Oh, how I hated this. To think I’d ever feel "nostalgic" for this place. These were memories I had intended to leave buried under a thick layer of dust.

So why? Why now?

"Ma-Maria..."

Behind those junk-like glasses, a trembling child with a pathetic expression looked at me. Above his green eyes, which were shimmering with tears, was a very distinctive scar.

It was a scar I had seen every day, whether I liked it or not. A wound I had carried my entire life. It was a part of me. That confirmed it. This child in front of me was─me.

"Ooh, look! Maria’s sleeping in the hallway! Daddy! Daaaaaddy!!"

While I was reeling in confusion, a miniature version of a pig—oops, I mean a child who looked exactly like a piglet—came thumping down the stairs as if performing a dance. He was smirking, looking ready to bolt at any second. His eyes were practically swallowed by the folds of fat in his cheeks and eyelids. Good grief... Dudley, did you really have this much body fat back then?

As the pig prepared to charge, the "little me" let out another shriek of terror and hurriedly tried to pull me up.

Pulled me up... It seemed I had been lying on the floor of this familiar hallway. Looking at the steps right by my feet, I could deduce the situation: I had tumbled head-first down the stairs. No wonder every inch of my body was screaming in pain.

Of course, the worst of it was my head. It felt like a fatal blow; every time I took a step, led by those tiny arms, I felt my brain sloshing around inside my skull.

Yet, perhaps it was a conditioned reflex—urged on by the little me, my feet moved without hesitation toward that "storage room" so rich in memories: The Cupboard Under the Stairs.

"Maria..."

The child kept repeating someone’s name anxiously. I frowned—partly from the pain and partly from confusion. It seemed I was currently being called "Maria." But of course, I had never once cast aside the name Harry to become Maria Potter... never... ne─

I saw a pale Lily Evans.

There were no fancy things like mirrors in this cupboard, but in the reflection of a small piece of furniture, Lily was staring back at me with a bewildered, deathly pale face. ─No, no, that’s wrong.

It was me, with Lily’s face, looking at myself.

"Uh, I mean... well..."

"Maria?"

Unable to hide my agitation, I instinctively stepped back, only to have my knees catch on the edge of a moth-eaten bed, sending me tumbling. That tiny vibration alone made my head feel like it was splitting open.

─She wasn't Lily. This child gripping my hand so fearfully wasn't my second son, Albus. And the girl in the reflection wasn't my beloved daughter, Lily Luna Potter.

Rather... she was...

"Um, you... Harry?"

"What is it, Maria? Does your head hurt?"

As he leaned against the bed and gently stroked my forehead with a natural, familiar grace, I closed my eyes and whispered, "Merlin’s beard."

The voice. I only just realized—what had happened to my voice? It was the voice of a young girl.

"Hey, Harry... how old are you again?"

"What’s wrong, Maria? We’re five, aren't we? Is it because you hit your head? It made such a loud noise."

It was a strange thing to say about myself, but with heartbreaking innocence, I informed myself of the shocking truth.

"...Haha, right... I see... Let's just sleep."

"Eh? Maria!?"

And so, the world went black. Abandoning all thought, I let my consciousness slip away into the depths of a sludge-like headache.

For the next three days, I—Maria Potter—was bedridden with a high fever. During that time, the memories of a young girl rushed over me like a torrential flood. While being clumsily nursed by the "little me" who was always on the verge of tears—my twin little brother (or perhaps older brother), Harry—I finally grasped the situation.

It seemed I had been reborn into the past, not as Harry, but as a girl named Maria, Harry Potter’s twin sister.

No, wait... being reborn into the past? How is that even possible?

However, the memories of Maria Potter, which felt like a seamless continuation of the decades-long memories of Harry Potter, told me this was the truth.

How? Why? Was it some kind of curse? The Time-Turners were supposed to have been destroyed for good after that incident with the children.

Even if that were the case, to be reborn as a different person? And in the past, no less?

"Maria, is your fever gone?"

"I'm okay. Thank you... Harry."

I gave a soft smile back to the "little me"—my brother Harry—who was sniffing like a lonely puppy.

So, this is what I looked like as a child... Back then, I rarely saw my own face except during the occasional bath or while cleaning windows, so looking at Harry felt entirely fresh.

─He looked just like my sons. Or rather, my sons looked like me. The Potter genes are truly formidable.

And so, while stroking the head of the worried Harry (to think I’m stroking my own head!), I began to think.

Was it a curse of the Dark Arts? A magical artifact? Regardless, there had to be a cause. But with this malnourished, tiny body, there was no way to investigate.

Besides, I’m a girl! What on earth could a five-year-old girl do? I have no broom, and I can't travel far on foot.

Furthermore—I didn't even know magic existed until my eleventh birthday. In this era, Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Sirius, and Professor Lupin were all still alive... but I couldn't meet them yet.

And above all─Voldemort. This was the era where he was still lurking.

I couldn't afford to be reckless. I, Maria, might have the memories of living as Harry Potter, but the little Harry in front of me was truly a helpless child. For now, I had to rely on the Blood Protection surrounding this suffocating house.

Once I set my course, I moved quickly. First, to improve the Dursleys' treatment of us─I reported them.

If relatives, neighbors, and the school couldn't be relied upon, I would rely on the law. Since we didn't know about magic yet, we were still living under the rules of the Muggle world.

As a result, the Dursleys—realizing that Maria possessed unexpected initiative and knowledge—began to slightly loosen their abusive grip. At least, in front of me. And since I refused to ever leave Harry's side, I effectively shielded him from their brunt as well. Yes, all according to plan.

Furthermore, I secretly managed Harry’s accidental magic whenever it flared up, ensuring that we appeared perfectly "normal" in front of the Dursleys. Those dull, narrow-minded people had no idea I was using tiny bits of magic in the cupboard to keep Harry entertained.

Additionally, being a girl was a convenient gender; people seemed to take far more notice of a girl named Maria being hit than a boy named Harry. The looks of sympathy were far more pronounced.

On top of that, Maria’s appearance was the spitting image of Lily─our beautiful and brilliant mother, Lily Evans. Yes, she was beautiful. While my eyes were hazel like my father's (in exchange for Harry having mother's eyes), my features, inherited from my mother, were perfect even at a young age.

Just imagine: a beautiful young girl with mysterious bruises on her arms and face, standing alone in the middle of town─it would be a massive legal incident.

Using my mother’s looks to my advantage, I shrewdly avoided physical violence and continued to protect Harry. We were still scrawny and small because there was nothing I could do about the food, but it was a world of difference from when I had to endure it all alone as Harry.

Well, we are now almost eleven. Soon, the Acceptance Letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should arrive. There is no doubt that both Harry and I are magical.

My young body can't handle high-level magic like Apparition yet, but I can manipulate age-appropriate magic without a wand with no problem. It feels a bit like cheating, but let’s just call it the "experience gap."

"You two, get up! Now! Don't dawdle, do you hear me!?"

"Honestly... she's so loud every morning. Harry, I'll go get the mail, you handle breakfast."

"Okay! Leave it to me, Maria."

Covering my ears against Aunt Petunia’s shrill, alarm-clock-like voice, I smiled at Harry. Harry, rolling up the sleeves of Dudley's hand-me-downs that didn't fit at all, ran toward the dining room. I, on the other hand, went to the front door. Lately, getting the newspaper had become Maria’s job.

Because it had to be soon. This time, I wanted to get the Hogwarts letters before Uncle Vernon could snatch them away.

"─Bingo!"

And so, hiding the two envelopes that had fluttered through the mail slot inside my clothes, I chuckled quietly like a witch in the empty hallway.

I have never felt a day last so long. Because of it, I was distracted and became the target of Aunt Petunia’s venting several times. Sure, I wasn't being helpful, but she just wanted someone to yell at.

─But those meaningless sighs end today.

I held up the "treasure" I had hidden under my folded clothes in front of Harry.

"Harry, Harry! Look at this!"

"Eh? Maria, that’s──it’s addressed to us! 4 Privet Drive, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, Mr. H. Potter and Ms. M. Potter─Hey, those are our names, right!?"

"If my name is Maria and yours is Harry, then yes."

Chuckling at Harry’s incredibly adorable reaction, we both pulled the blanket over our heads on the bed. Last time, Uncle Vernon took the letter before I could even open it, which was a bitter memory. Revenge successful.

"Let’s see... what does it say... Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry─?"

Harry, who had excitedly checked the contents after receiving his letter from me, suddenly slumped his shoulders and looked at me with suspicious eyes.

"Oh, Maria. This is a prank. No one writes letters to us. Especially not about magic. It must be Dudley’s gang playing a trick."

"What are you saying, Harry? We are genuine, bona fide wizards."

"Eeeh!? No way! Maybe you, Maria, but what am I?"

"It’s not a lie. I told you a long time ago, didn't I? Our mum and dad didn't die in a car crash. They were killed by a dark wizard. Because they were brilliant magic-users who stood up to him! Now, what do you think the children of two people like that would be?"

"No... I... I really thought that was just a story you made up, Maria. Is it true?"

"It’s true. Did you really think it was a story? For a younger brother not to believe his sister's words... how cheeky!"

"I’m the older one! Ahahaha!"

I tickled Harry as "punishment" for his wide-eyed shock regarding our lineage. As if in sync with his childish laughter, the pens and papers in the room began to float on their own.

"Ah─"

"See? Look. You just used magic, Harry."

"...That was magic?"

"Yes. Honestly, what did you think it was until now? We've played like that so many times."

"I just thought... that was how things were..."

It seemed that while the physical abuse had stopped, the side effects of our confinement were showing up here. He had grown up completely ignorant of the world. Sorry, little me.

"So, me and Maria are wizards..."

"Exactly. You're a wizard and I'm a—well, I'm a witch. Yes, we're magical. and from now on, we get to go to a magic school. To hell with Stonewall High, right?"

"Really! That’s wonderful, Maria. As long as I’m with you, I’m not scared of anything!"

Suddenly, Harry’s face lit up, his cheeks flushing with excitement for this unknown world. He was, if I say so myself, pure and lovely.

His messy hair was soft and fluffy thanks to me brushing it every day (I used a discarded brush Aunt Petunia threw in the bin, but it still works). Even though it was the same hair inherited from our father that had been a complex for me for years, on him, it looked like a charm point.

As for his personality—I remember being a bit short-tempered and slightly cynical as a child, but there was none of that in him.

Little by little, he is different from the "me" I remember. Having a sibling makes such a difference.

"Hey, Harry. I love you. My only little brother. My precious family."

"What is it, Maria, so suddenly? Of course I feel the same. My one and only precious Maria. My family, Maria. If you hadn't been here, I don't think I could have lived 'normally.' ─Oh, and also, I'm the big brother!"

I couldn't help but hug my brother with all my heart, and Harry, who was smaller than me, patted my head. Inadvertently, the "me" who couldn't have lived "normally" clung even tighter to that precious warmth.

I know the warmth of a family. Ginny taught me that.

I know the strength and fragility of a parent. My three children taught me that.

But the only one who could teach me the reassurance of a sibling─was this Harry.

That is why.

Feeling the weight of the life in my arms and picturing a future where my kind brother could be happy─I reignited the long-dormant heat that I had kept suppressed under layers of warmth, softness, and tranquility.

─I will definitely be the one to defeat Voldemort.