Chapter 2: 1-2

In the dead of night, while Harry and those Dursleys were fast asleep—I secretly entrusted a reply to a special owl waiting politely at the entrance. I informed them that both Harry and Maria intended to enroll at Hogwarts, but that we would be unable to make the preliminary preparations on our own. As a result, we avoided the madness of the chasing letters from the first time around, and Hagrid didn't have to fly his motorbike all the way to that rocky island to fetch us. Though, Dudley ended up with a pig’s tail anyway.

Even though my cousin and I only managed to maintain a somewhat decent relationship after the Final Battle, the Dudley of this era is still quite insufferable. Between my old grudges and his current behavior, I couldn't help but laugh at his pathetic squeals. It seems Harry, who grew up much gentler than I did, couldn't suppress a snicker either. Hmm, at his core, this boy really is "me."

Led by Hagrid, we headed to Diagon Alley for the first time as "Maria" to get our school supplies. It felt nostalgic, yet entirely fresh.

Harry, walking hand-in-hand with me, was famous as The Boy Who Lived. While his eyes sparkled at the sight of this new world, he quickly grew fed up with the curious stares and the way people treated him wherever we went.

Furthermore, no one knew who I was. The legend was about The Boy Who Lived. There were no stories anywhere of a "Girl Who Lived." I have no scar on my forehead.

According to Hagrid, on that fateful night, we were supposedly sleeping side-by-side in a large crib like the twins we are. No one knows why I alone survived without being hit by the curse. ...Though, I have a feeling Dumbledore might secretly know why.

While listening to Hagrid’s voice—constantly overcome with emotion as he reminisced about how much we resembled James and Lily (incidentally, he laughed and said our personalities were the opposite; does that mean I’m the one who inherited Dad’s temperament? I’m not sure I agree with that!)—we approached Gringotts. That was when he spoke to me.

"P-P-Potter!"

"Yes?" we answered in unison.

I squeezed Harry’s hand tightly, determined not to let him get close to him—the man with the foul stench emanating from his turban. Harry turned his large, blinking eyes toward me in confusion.

That’s fine. You don't need to see that thing.

"H-h-how p-pleased I am t-t-to m-m-meet you."

"Harry, Maria. This is Professor Quirrell. He’ll be teachin' ya Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts," Hagrid introduced.

As Quirrell reached out to shake Harry’s hand, I moved first and grabbed his hand instead.

"Hello, Mr. Quirrell. I am Maria Potter. Harry’s older twin sister."

"Younger sister!" Harry interjected.

"H-H-H-Harry Potter has a t-t-twin?"

"Yes. And along with my little brother... we look forward to your classes."

"I'm the older one!"

While feeling softened by the cute protest from my side, I continued to project a one-way warning toward them. Constant Vigilance—as the man who taught me "how to fight for real" (and not just play-at-war) would say.

"...Er. Right. Maria. See, Professor Quirrell smells a bit like... well, that. There’s a good reason for it. Right? You understand, don’t ya, Maria? Eh?"

Hagrid, seemingly worried that my stiff attitude was due to the smell, whispered in a "stage whisper" that everyone could hear. In response, Quirrell’s pale face turned even paler, and he trembled quite pitifully.

"Oh, d-dear. I m-must... I must g-g-go buy a n-n-new book on... w-w-warding off vampires."

Muttering that excuse, he hurried away. I glared intensely at his garlic-scented turban. Because, right there—I was snapped out of my focus by the warmth of Harry’s hand pulling on my arm.

"Maria."

Surely, it made no sense to him. Why had his other half acted so pricklily toward a man she’d just met? Hagrid assumed I was just disgusted by the smell (which was true, to an extent), but that wouldn't fly with Harry.

Harry’s green eyes could always see right through Maria’s hazel ones.

"Let's go, Maria."

But without asking anything, Harry simply nudged me forward with kind eyes. —Ah, those are Mother’s eyes. And the eyes of the brother I love.

Hagrid had stopped a little ways ahead and was calling for us. We both ran toward him at the same time. At that moment, Harry—who was shorter than me—somehow looked a little taller.

After the surprise of discovering our parents' inheritance at Gringotts, we parted ways with Hagrid, who wanted to grab an Invigorating Draught to help with his "cart-sickness." We Potter siblings now stood in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

From school uniforms to Auror robes, I had frequented this place many times. I’m the only one in this world who knows that, but it feels very familiar.

And yet, I was the one hesitating to go inside.

"Come on, Maria. Let’s go in."

"Uugh..."

I shook my head, pulling on the hand of the boy I’d been holding this whole time, pleading for him to wait until I was mentally prepared.

Because. Because! What’s waiting for me in there is...

A skirt!!

Me! In a skirt!

The Harry Potter! In a skirt!

Since the clothes given to us at the Dursleys were all hand-me-downs from their only son, Dudley, Maria naturally always wore trousers. Yes, since being born as Maria, this was the first time I was going to wear a skirt!

"...I wonder if I can just wear trousers."

"Don't worry, Maria. I’m sure a skirt will look great on you."

"That’s not the point, Harry. But thanks."

Of course it'll look good. I have Mum's face, except for the eyes!

I brushed aside Harry’s hilariously misguided but sweet attempt at support and let out a massive sigh. I slapped my cheeks twice. Alright. Let’s do this.

I steeled myself and grabbed the door handle.

It's unavoidable. Be a man and face it, me!

Clink.

"Whoa!?" Three voices cried out at once.

A flash of ethereal platinum and blue-grey crossed my vision.

There were three voices. Mine. Harry’s. And...

"Dra... Malfoy."

"...Harry Potter?"

He looked so nostalgic standing there. He stared at me inquisitively before shifting his gaze to Harry.

Oh, right. That’s how it was—my first meeting with Draco was here, at Madam Malkin's!

I couldn't remember exactly what we talked about, but I recall him being incredibly annoying... like a "pretty version of Dudley." Or wait, was that my impression from the Hogwarts Express? Or when we met in the corridor? Or Potions class—I hated that every single time. Yeah.

Since it was decades ago for me, I really couldn't dig the memory up.

"...Pardon me, little lady. It seems I’ve unintentionally blocked your path."

Whether he's a child or a prat, he is still a proper English gentleman. The way he stepped back and ceremoniously made way for a lady was almost too perfect to mock as "theatrical."

What the... Draco? He’s this kind to girls? Judging by that bow alone, he didn't look like a child who would spend his youth living for the sake of harassment.

Mind you, we were people who took ages to go from "our kids are best friends" to being friends ourselves. (Ginny used to laugh and say even first loves weren't that frustrating. Hermione and Ron just looked at us in disbelief.)

It was a long time before I got to see his genuine, gentle smile. Which meant seeing his childhood self—the very image of him back then—brought those old, unpleasant feelings rushing back.

"I’m sorry for staring so rudely. Thank you for holding the door. Harry, let's go."

Harry nodded and followed my lead. But as he tried to pass him...

"Scorpius."

"——"

"...It’s a star that I’m quite fond of. Do you know it? It’s a summer constellation."

Draco was looking at Harry. His eyes, a shade between cool grey and blue, held something intense. Earnest. Almost pleading.

It was the same look I once saw in his eyes when he was praying.

"...Er, sorry, I don't know much about stars. But if you say it like that, it must be a wonderful star. I’ll look it up if I get the chance."

As expected, Harry gave a safe, platonic answer with a stiff smile. Draco lowered his elegant brows slightly and shook his head. "No."

"It’s fine. It’s not a famous name that everyone knows, like Sirius, for instance. Forgive me for asking such a strange question out of the blue. I am Draco Malfoy. You’re starting Hogwarts this year too, I assume? If you’d like, shall we be friends? Even if... our Houses are different."

"Of course! What’s a House? Oh, I’m Harry... but you already knew that, didn't you? You called me by my name earlier."

"Yes, well... you’re famous."

"I know. It’s felt weird the whole way here. At the Dursleys... the house where I live, everyone treats me like I’m unwanted. But in a place I don't even know, they call me a hero. It’s ridiculous, isn't it?"

"That’s not... no, I suppose you’re right. Being praised by everyone for something you don't even remember must feel quite unsettling."

"Exactly! That’s it! You’re a really great person! No one besides Maria has understood how I feel like this."

"——Maria?"

Finally, his eyes reflected me.

While they had been having their heartwarming chat, my heart was so full I couldn't bring myself to speak.

Because. Draco. You...

"Right. Maria Potter, my younger twin sister."

"Older sister."

I gave Harry the rehearsed correction and laughed as if letting out a held breath, while keeping my eyes on Draco.

"Nice to meet you, Draco. Hey, what are your plans after this? If you’re free, why don't you talk with us? I’d love for you to tell Harry about the Houses and Hogwarts."

Seeing the girl’s tone suddenly shift to something light and a bit casual, Draco Malfoy’s eyes widened.

What a young, cute face he has. I almost accidentally kissed him.

At the perfect timing, Madam Malkin caught hold of Harry.

With a mischievous look just like her father’s, the girl took the beautiful boy’s hand.

"Let’s talk until Harry gets back."

Sitting down next to him on the waiting chairs.

"—How about we talk about that summer constellation, Scorpius?"

We met all over again.