Chapter 8: 4-1

The day I woke up, I was more confused by the absence of a familiar warmth beside me than by the unfamiliar interior.

...Oh. Did Harry get up first? Is he already in the kitchen? We always wake up together. I can’t believe he didn’t even wake me.

With a groggy head, I patted the bed. It was soft. I couldn't hear the springs groaning and complaining—the way they did even for one person, let alone two.

As my vision slowly cleared, I confirmed the canopy and the ceiling. "Ah..." I murmured. Right. I was here—Hogwarts. And in the Girls' Dormitory, no less.

I took a quick look around the room to check my roommates again. Lavender, Parvati, and Hermione... It seemed Maria had managed to fit in as one of Hermione's roommates this time around.

Feeling it would be rude to stare too long at the girls' defenseless sleeping faces, I changed into my uniform, my mind still a bit foggy. I picked up the battered brush I’d grown strangely attached to.

"Morning, Harry."

"Morning, Maria."

Just as I thought, Harry was already awake. Sitting before the fireplace in the Common Room, his green eyes were soft and hazy, and his messy hair looked even fluffier than usual.

"I just had a feeling you’d woken up, Maria."

"I thought the same about you, Harry."

I had Harry sit on the rug between my legs, and I began slowly untangling the stubborn, messy hair in front of me with the brush.

"When I opened my eyes, the first thing I did was look for you, Maria. I thought maybe you’d gone on ahead. Then, I heard Ron’s snoring and realized—oh, I’m at Hogwarts."

"Me too. You were the first thing I looked for. Ron’s snoring really is something, isn’t it? ...Er, well, in my imagination, anyway."

"Your imagination is spot on."

" "Hehe..." "

Once his black hair finally flowed through my fingers the way I wanted, we swapped roles. My own messy red hair—which I rarely bothered to tidy myself—was combed through Harry’s fingers, spilling over my shoulders. It was the same color as Mum's. Since I became Maria, this hair had grown quite long.

"We slept together every night until yesterday, didn't we? In one bed. It was so cramped, so we huddled as close as we could. ...Do you feel lonely?"

"A little. I think I’ll keep looking for you every time I wake up until I get used to it. Also, winter seems like it'll be cold."

"Then, are you happy we can be apart in the summer?"

"Not at all."

We giggled together, just like when we used to hide under the blankets to play secret games. Now that we had wands, we couldn't play by casting simple sparks from our fingertips anymore.

It’s not that I missed that rickety bed at Privet Drive that was only meant for one, but I was honestly disappointed that I couldn't sleep next to Harry anymore. I’d probably spend the next few days looking for him with half-asleep eyes, too. And then—

"Hermione will look at me with exasperation."

"Ron will probably laugh at me."

" "......Ahahaha!" "

Our mutual murmurs confirmed we were thinking the exact same thing, and this time we laughed out loud.

" "My, my, these twins seem awfully cozy this morning." "

" "Are you two any different?" "

" "Of course we're close! Close enough to greet each other by the wrong names!" "

As if drawn by our laughter, two grinning faces—resembling Cheshire cats—burst into the Common Room. It was the grand entrance of the troublesome and delightful Weasley twins.

Identical in looks, personality, and voice, they didn't even need to consult each other before linking arms to form a circle, trapping us inside as they began to spin around.

"We were curious."

"When we heard twins other than us were enrolling."

"We thought it might be the Patil sisters."

"But to think Harry Potter had a twin!"

"And a remarkably handsome lad and lovely girl at that! Those trousers look cute on you, Maria."

"We’d be lying if we said we weren't intrigued. I think the skirt’s smashing too, Harry."

" "By all means, let us be fellow-twin friends!" "

Unlike us, their faces and gestures were so identical that I had no idea which one was talking to me as they took turns. Even if they explained who was who, I was certain I wouldn’t be able to tell in the end. —That was the 'them' I knew.

"Oops, haven't introduced ourselves yet. This is Fred."

"And this is George."

"No, wait, could you be George?"

"I say, are you still dreaming, Fred? You must be George pretending to be Fred."

" "Right, let’s go ask Ron!" "

The two redheads dashed off toward Harry’s dormitory to make a toy out of their younger brother. Harry and I giggled together. From behind us, we heard the pathetic yelp of "Waaagh!" from my future best friend, and we doubled over laughing.

"You’re all up early. I could hear your laughter from the room. Hey, Maria. Will you brush my hair? It’s a nightmare every morning."

"Mmm, Harry’s better at it. Harry always tidies my hair for me."

"Maria’s better. My hair only stays calm because of her."

"I don't care who does it. We’ll be late for breakfast at this rate. But Harry, you need to go get changed."

At the logical opinion of the waking "Brightest Witch," I took the worn brush back from Harry and had Hermione sit in the usual brushing spot.

"...Uh, Hermione? Shouldn't we use your brush?"

"Eh?"

"See, this is our prized possession."

"............I have a spare brush, I’ll give you one."

Yeah, that would be appreciated.

After Harry changed into his uniform, we headed to breakfast guided by the Weasley twins, accompanied by Ron (who had been shaken awake by his brothers) and Hermione, who was still muttering about how it was "impossible to create such a shine with a brush like that" while fiddling with the ends of my hair.

As we sat down, I watched Harry and Hermione stare agape at the owls swooping in with the post. Stealthily, I pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of my robes. On it, someone had written 'Goodnight, Maria Potter' in a rather fussy-looking script.

When I rubbed it with my fingertip, the letters vanished, sinking into the parchment.

"Mmm... for now... G-O-O-D-M-O-R-N-I-N-G—there."

I quickly scribbled it down while hiding behind the dishes. A rub of the finger made it disappear. A moment later, the previous handwriting began to bleed back onto the surface.

"'I told you not to sleep'... Honestly, Draco is asking the impossible."

Indeed—this improvised correspondence was a communication method I had secretly developed, known only to us. It was inspired by the coins Hermione used for Dumbledore’s Army (D.A. coins), the Marauder’s Map, and Riddle’s Diary.

If you wrote with ink—any kind, as long as it was visible—it would appear on the twin sheet. Any visible text (or drawing) would disappear when rubbed with a finger. If I do say so myself, it was a brilliant magical item. I almost wanted to file for a patent while I could.

After all, once you're an adult, emergency contact usually involves sending a Patronus, but as a first-year student at Hogwarts, I couldn't exactly go around casting a Stag. Owls weren't suited for quick memos, either. In that regard, this communication parchment—informally dubbed the "Link-Paper" (a very lazy naming on my part)—was a student's best friend.

The downsides were: it didn't grow hot like the coins, so you wouldn't notice a message unless you looked; it required the act of writing; it wasn't meant for long chats; since it transferred instantly, you couldn't edit it; it was useless without its pair—and if a prank-loving student like the Weasley twins found it, it was game over.

"—Whoa! Hedwig? Oh, morning. Want some of this? ...Thanks."

I hadn’t noticed her arrival. When she affectionately nipped my ear, I looked up just in time to see Hermione peering suspiciously at my hands. Close call... I had to watch out not only for pranksters but for the surveillance of diligent honor students.

Thank you, Hedwig. You really are an excellent partner, I murmured internally. I shoved the Link-Paper into my pocket and, as a token of thanks, presented the most perfectly toasted piece of bread to my flying companion.

"Maria, you’re so good with Hedwig. Did you have owl friends I didn't know about?"

"I’m more worried that you have fairy friends you haven't told me about, Harry. Don't go getting whisked away because they mistook you for one of their own."

"There aren't any... Why would I be a changeling at this age? That's supposed to happen when you're a baby."

Since my younger brother had started saying such whimsical things, I teased him right back. I noticed Hermione and the Weasley twins whispering to each other across the table.

" "A kitten and a puppy?" "

"I think they're like a baby squirrel and a bunny."

...What on earth were they talking about?

Classes began. Hermione, who loves the act of studying more than food, sleep, or a lover's sweet talk, was in high spirits, constantly carrying several books that weren't even required for class (but were still study books!). Honestly, I felt like swinging her shoulder bag, stuffed with dictionary-sized tomes, would have a higher lethality rate than waving a wand.

Being as gifted as she was, she’d probably learn an Undetectable Extension Charm eventually to make things easier, but her sheer grit was impressive.

In contrast to Hermione, Harry and Ron walked the corridors today with faces that suggested they’d already endured seven years of hardship. —Hogwarts was simply too vast. It was a literal castle, after all.

Even just remembering the Marauder’s Map, Hogwarts held mountains, forests, lakes, and dungeons... it was massive in every direction. There were 142 staircases alone. And they weren't just staircases. They moved, vanished, trapped your feet—et cetera.

Furthermore, reaching the classrooms was no simple feat. For instance, a door might have five knobs, yet the actual way to open it was through the knocker; or a door might open into a sheer drop. Some weren't even shaped like doors, and others were mean-spirited things that would splash water on you if you couldn't answer a riddle.

The chances of a first-year reaching their destination alone were near zero. —Except for me, Draco, and the memory-monster that was Hermione.

So, when I was subtly guiding them to classrooms Hermione hadn't visited or in case we got separated from her—sure enough, she caught on.

"Maria? You’ve definitely been to Hogwarts before, haven't you? Even when we followed Percy, you didn't hesitate for a second."

"It was just luck. It's not that I don't get lost; I just have good intuition."

"I won't be fooled by such vague excuses. Confess."

"It’s true. It's just like how you're incredibly smart. No one would expect you to know so many spells before even starting school! There must be a trick! You must have attended Hogwarts before! —You’d be troubled if someone said that, wouldn't you? In my case, my sense of direction is just a bit sharper than most. That’s all there is to it. ...Only at Hogwarts, though."

"...Sigh. Fine. I’ll let it slide for now. Maria, you really are a secretive, stubborn girl. Though your brother is just as stubborn."

"I’m the older sister."

"Oh, really? I thought so."

We continued our idle chatter in the empty corridor. If Harry heard this, he’d probably get sulky. Eventually, Harry and Ron (who had gone to ask the Astronomy professor a question) returned, so I wrapped up the talk before anything else could slip.

"Maria!"

"Harry!"

Down the hall, his green eyes brightened the moment he spotted my hazel ones, and I opened my arms. I was reminded of my second son, Albus, back when he was still sweet, and I couldn't help but smile.

From beside me, I heard a strange whisper—"Definitely a bunny..."—which made me want to interrogate Hermione, but first, I caught Harry in a firm hug.

"I finally got to ask!"

"Ask what?"

"—Scorpius!"

Oh, that name... I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"They said Scorpius is a summer constellation with a red star! What was it... er, it apparently has various meanings like 'inquisitive spirit' or 'obsession' in mythology... Ah, so does that mean Draco was born in the summer? Or is he winter because he's a Scorpio?"

"...Did you seriously go and ask a professor just for that?"

"I promised Draco I’d look into it if I had the chance."

Looking at my brother smiling so innocently, I couldn't help but hug him tighter. "Still at it today, Potter twins!" some ghost jeered as they flew by, but I didn't care.

Ah, Draco, can you hear this? My brother is an angel again today.

Even though we were both "Harry Potter," why were we so different? —Perhaps it was the environment. I used to watch Ron and his brothers fooling around and always thought that if I’d had a sibling, maybe things would have been different.

Imagining myself frantically scribbling about Harry on the Link-Paper later, I giggled with the small boy who still fit within my small arms.

—Ignoring the complex swirl of emotions deep in my heart.

"By the way, Draco was born in June."

"What—!?"

Now, after a few days of what seemed like smooth sailing—a problem arose in Transfiguration.

Maria’s wand wouldn't react.

The task was extremely simple—at least for Maria and Draco—turning a matchstick into a needle. There was no way I could fail.

And yet, the matchstick given to me by Professor McGonagall remained a rolling matchstick no matter how much time passed.

The first possibility was that, like with Apparition, an eleven-year-old body couldn't handle the required magical output—but that was impossible.

I mean—it was just a match into a needle.

In fact, Maria had already used wandless magic in front of Harry and created something as absurd as the Link-Paper since meeting Draco. That reason clearly didn't hold up.

"Maria? This is hard, isn't it?"

"Ah, uh, yeah. It is..."

I nodded vaguely to Harry, who was groaning beside me, and tapped the match with my wand.

Hey, what’s going on? Mr. Ollivander said I could use any wand.

"............"

The sensation of magic flowing through the core when I waved the wand felt right. Based on the feel of it, there was no reason I shouldn't be able to use it.

But the wand remained stubbornly silent.

In the end, Hermione was the only Gryffindor first-year to produce a needle that day. I could only stare at the wand Hedwig had chosen for me with a grim expression.

"—And that’s the situation, Draco."

"I’m hearing for the first time that you can supposedly use 'any' wand, which sounds like total nonsense."

By the lake, where the Giant Squid was rumored to live, I was being poked in the cheek with the tip of a wand by the Slytherin boy I’d met via the Link-Paper.

Could you not use the tip of your wand? What if a stray spell goes off like a wand fixed with Spellotape?

"I had too much to tell you, I completely forgot..."

"What about Charms?"

"In Charms, we’ve only done 'swish and flick' practice."

"Ah, right."

Since first-year basics start with just the movements, that’s standard for the first Charms class. Other than that, all I saw was Professor Flitwick falling off his stack of books—or was it a desk?—in shock at Harry’s name.

"It’s not that you've lost your magic, right?"

"............"

I remained silent at Draco’s question and gave my index finger a small flick toward the lake. Whish— several lights danced over the water before sinking into the surface.

"Am I really going to have to go through my school life without a wand...?"

"Don't go complaining while casting magic so effortlessly without one."

Sensing that I was genuinely depressed, his hand was surprisingly gentle as he hesitantly patted my head, despite his tone.

Encouraged by his awkward consolation, I gripped the Cypress wand once more and waved it toward the lake.

"Incendio."

—Gulp.

With a pathetic sound, only a tiny flicker of fire emerged from the tip. It was worse than a Muggle lighter.

"............"

"............"

"I hope this isn't some plot where you're actually Longbottom using Polyjuice Potion to look like Maria."

"Shall I tell you some embarrassing stories about 'the old you'?"

"I'm joking."

Next, I tried the same spell without the wand.

"Incendio."

—Whoosh!

A respectable burst of flame licked across the lake. What looked like a squid's tentacle slapped the surface as if protesting our disturbance of the peace.

"......Draco, I have a bad feeling about this."

"What a coincidence. So do I."

"...Can I borrow yours?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

I gripped the Hawthorn wand he pulled from his robes—a wand with many memories, in a sense. This was the wand that had once stood against even Voldemort.

"Incendio."

—ROAR!!

The most powerful fire yet—exactly the magic I had envisioned—blasted from the tip. Yes—it was as if I were using my wand.

"............"

"...So Mr. Ollivander wasn't wrong. It's the wand that's wrong."

I slumped at Draco’s mercilessly realistic words. I handed the Hawthorn wand back to him and gripped my—the wand that was supposed to belong to "Maria"—Cypress wand.

"You... could it be that you just... lack motivation?"

I felt a faint warmth in the handle, almost as if it were responding.

"Oh, come on..."

"Maybe you should replace it. Ollivander probably didn't even intend to sell it. If you buy a new one—"

"—No."

I tucked 'my' wand back into my robes.

"Hedwig chose this for me. There must be a reason. I’m going to keep using this one."

"What about classes?"

"For now, I’ll just 'pretend' to wave the wand while using Wandless Magic. ...If I really get stuck, will you help me? With your wand, like back then."

"...Don't even ask."

"Thank you."

At his typical way of giving consent, a smile finally broke across my face.

Now that I knew the cause, it was just a contest of wills between me and the wand. I’ll show it the persistence of someone who doesn't know how to give up. Snakes are quite tenacious, after all.

"Anyway, it’s a strange wand, just like you. What’s it made of?"

"What’s that supposed to mean? ...Er, Cypress and—the core was Thestral tail hair, I think."

"Thestral—? Doesn't Ollivander only use Unicorn hair, Dragon heartstring, and Phoenix feather for cores?"

"So they say. That’s probably why it wasn't for sale."

"...Hmph."

Draco, resting his chin on his knees, murmured with eyes that seemed to look into an invisible distance.

"A Thestral tail hair... huh."