Chapter 4
Harry had always thought his sister Holly's hair was unique. It wasn't just the deep red of her locks that caught his attention—though they were extraordinary in their own right—but it was the random streaks of ink-black that swirled through her hair. It reminded him of the way night crept into the sky, unpredictable and bold against the warm glow of daylight. Harry could never recall meeting anyone else who had hair like Holly's. No one he knew had those striking, jet-black strands amidst such vibrant crimson curls. Her hair, so different from his own, held his fascination in a way that nothing else could.
The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that there were a lot of things that set the three of them apart, making them all distinct. For instance, his eyes. They were a deep shade of green—like a forest after a fresh rain, cool and serene. Lennox, his brother, had eyes that seemed to glimmer with the warmth of caramel chocolate. But Holly's eyes, those bright emeralds that glistened with life, were a shade of green that was so vivid and pure, it reminded Harry of the grass that bravely grew through patches of snow in early spring. They looked fresh, almost like they belonged to someone who had just been born into the world, untouched and full of wonder.
Their skin tones were another contrast. Harry's complexion, while lighter than Lennox's, still had a tanned, sun-kissed hue that made him appear to have spent some time outdoors. Lennox, however, looked like he had practically lived under the sun, with his warm golden-brown skin and the easy charm of someone who carried the warmth of summer everywhere they went. But then there was Holly. She stood in sharp contrast to them both. Her skin was so pale that it could almost be mistaken for porcelain—white as snow, delicate, and seemingly fragile. It wasn't that she looked sickly or weak; it was simply a different shade, as though she had walked out of a painting, ethereal and otherworldly in her beauty.
As much as the differences between the three of them stood out, Harry couldn't help but notice the family resemblance that also tied them together. Despite their differences, there were shared features that marked them as siblings. He looked like their dad in the photograph Holly kept tucked away in her room, the one they all treasured but rarely spoke of. The man in the picture had skin that was tanned and golden like Lennox's, and although Harry had inherited a paler complexion, his face still carried his father's strong jawline and sharp features. Harry sometimes liked to imagine that his dad's smile was something he might have inherited, though it was harder to know for sure since the photo they had of their parents had been of James looking shocked from where their mother Lily had surprised him with the first look on their wedding day.
Lennox, on the other hand, bore a striking resemblance to their father. Not only did he share the same rich, tanned skin as James, but Lennox also had his eyes—those warm, almost caramel-colored eyes that made him seem as if he were constantly glowing, even on overcast days. It was a look that made people gravitate toward him, though Harry always thought Lennox's eyes were a little too intense sometimes like they saw everything at once. But what intrigued Harry the most was that Lennox had (from what Holly said) inherited the same rough-and-tumble spirit as their dad. He was always moving, always playing, always diving headfirst into any challenge that came his way. He was full of energy, with a knack for making friends wherever he went though he lost them just as quickly as he made them thanks to other orphans.
Then there was Holly. Holly was different. She had inherited their mum's striking hair—the blood-red that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. Holly's wild curls were like flames dancing in the wind, unpredictable and untamed. The black streaks in her hair made her look like a character from a storybook, someone too magical for the ordinary world. Holly was something of a contradiction: delicate yet strong, wild yet refined. She was elegant in a way that Harry couldn't quite put into words, and he found himself marveling at her beauty, even though they were siblings.
When Harry was finally old enough to attend the same school with Holly, everything about her seemed even more stunning. He remembered his first day, walking into the classroom beside her, trying not to feel nervous but knowing deep down that everyone was staring. Holly was never bothered by the attention, and that had always impressed Harry. She never seemed to care whether people were fascinated by her or not. To her, it was just how things were. She was beautiful, but in her mind, it was just who she was.
None of the other girls at school looked like Holly. Some were pretty in the conventional sense—blonde or brown-haired, with skin that had a healthy glow. But none of them had the kind of beauty that Holly possessed, the beauty that was more than just skin deep. Holly wasn't just pretty; she was captivating. And Harry found himself thinking about her beauty constantly. There were times when he would catch himself staring at her, trying to make sense of the way her hair framed her face, the way her eyes seemed to hold a secret that no one else could ever hope to understand.
It wasn't just her appearance that stood out; it was her presence. Holly was the kind of person who walked into a room and commanded attention without even trying. It was like everything around her fell into place when she entered as if the world itself wanted to align with her in perfect harmony. The other kids at school admired her from afar, and even the teachers seemed to treat her with a special sort of reverence. She was the girl that everyone wanted to be around, yet no one could quite figure out how to approach. She seemed beyond them all, like someone who had stepped out of a different world.
Harry, for all his admiration of his sister, couldn't help but feel protective of her. He didn't like the way other boys at school would stare at her, as though they were seeing something more than just a girl in their class. It was like she was a prize to be won, something to be possessed. And though Harry didn't always understand his emotions, he knew one thing for sure—no one could ever make his sister feel like she was anything less than extraordinary. She was his sister, and in Harry's eyes, she would always be the most beautiful person in the room.
It was strange, though. Harry knew that Holly was the kind of girl who could make the world stop and take notice, but he also knew that there was a quiet sadness inside her. It wasn't something she wore on her sleeve, and most people wouldn't have noticed it. But Harry did. He could tell when she was feeling down when the weight of the world seemed too heavy for her delicate shoulders to bear. And that's when he would do whatever it took to make her smile, even if it meant being the goofy little brother who had no idea what he was doing.
Through it all, Harry found himself marveling at how different they all were, yet how they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. They might not look alike in every way, but there was something about their connection, about the way they fit into each other's lives, that made them the perfect family. Harry didn't know what the future would bring, but he was sure of one thing: his sister Holly would always be someone worth protecting, someone worth admiring. And as long as they had each other, he knew they would be alright.
🥀
It was a warm summer day. Harry just turned six years old. Holly had been allowed to take her brothers out front with her while she weeded the front garden. Nox despite still being a "thumb sucker" as Dudley liked to call him was already so helpful. He liked to smell the flowers and he and Harry were patient while she taught them about the plants and how to care for them.
While the Children of Little Whinging ran around on bikes and scooters, and mothers sat on their patios drinking tea. Their little peels of laughter and squealing could be heard up and down the road. Holly was whispering about magic to her brothers. She had vowed to tell them everything about their world. She made sure they knew how brave their parents were— that they weren't drunks who died in a car crash but heroes who died in a war.
She told them both about broomsticks that could fly and potions that worked better than muggle medicines. (That's what the Dursley's are, Harry. They're muggles but us... We're mages. I'm a witch and you two are wizards.) She told them about how amazing Mum was at Charms, she didn't even have to lift a finger to clean the house and make it spotless. Holly told them about their dad and transfiguration, how he could turn into a stag and she made sure to whisper about Padfoot and Moony, the two men who loved them so much and she told them that Padfoot was Sirius Black who was framed for their parent's murder. And that one day, she would get him out of Azkaban and he would take the three of them far away from the Dursleys and they could finally be a family again.
Harry and Nox looked up to their sister like she was a goddess. Like she always knew what was best for them — which she did. Holly took her job as their big sister very seriously. She was their sister, their mum, teacher, best friend, and confidant. Holly took care of them and loved them most dearly. Harry was convinced his sister was the best person in the whole world. He believed she was destined for the stars and that one day he would personally write her name in them and make her a crown of silver and precious gems. Nox promised her dragon that he would ride in like her knight and shining armor and take her and Harry far away. He promised to take care of her too and she would giggle and kiss their cheeks, telling them what such beautiful boys they were.
The Potter sons loved their sister and wanted to take care of her just as much as she did for them.
Henry Potter was not a shy, meek little boy in this story. He was just as cunning and mischievous as his sister for he learned from the best. She taught him how to sneak around, how to smile and gain sympathy, how to look and act the part while slipping slight fingers into the perfect victims. How to sight out the wealthy and how to nip from the store shelves. She taught him how to play the game of chess and always be three steps ahead.
Nox ever the loyal sweet boy he was just followed along. He was a wonderful actor. He would follow the script and do as he was told, no questions asked as long it was his sister or Harry that was telling him what to do.
She taught them how to use their "magic" how to unlock the doors, and how to summon things to them. How to compartmentalize their thoughts and protect their minds. They were convinced their sister was the most powerful witch ever. She would always smile so fondly at them when they told her so.
Holly knew it was only because she was actually an adult instead of a child. She retained all her memories from her old world. She was mature enough to regulate her emotions and calm down. She knew the theory of magic because her past self had been obsessed with the Potter-verse. She loved the thought of Legilimency and Occlumency. Her mother in her past life had been a gardener. Holly grew up with the plants so she had taken an interest in Herbology in the Potter world. She had wasted hours learning about the magical plants, taking tests online, and being an enormous Potterhead.
Then she was always good when it came to food and drinks, years of spending countless hours in the kitchen and bakery with her grandmother — Potions was as easy as breathing to her.
And in her past life, she had been a medical student. She had just finished her third year as a Surgical Resident, following in the footsteps of her dad. She had died at 25 years old, and she had died retaining all her memories but in the world, the memories of her friends and family had faded away except her knowledge.
Holly could not even recall her name... or where she was from. Just that she was a doctor and had a very unhealthy obsession with books and music. She had always wanted to be a dancer but gave her passion up to be a doctor like her dad — "a real profession worth its salt" he would say.
Holly once again pushed her dream to be a dancer to the back of her mind to focus all her attention on teaching Harry and Nox everything. Though when she was sure nobody was watching, she made sure to have her Baby and Flash Dance moments with her brothers. But first, she made sure they could read, write, spoke eloquently, had manners, and were always always three steps ahead. She made sure that when the time came, her brothers would know their place in the world. That they would never be unprepared.
She was brought back to focus by Harry who exclaimed there was a snake in Aunt Petunia's Petunias!
There, hidden among the overgrown weeds, Holly saw a small, garden snake, its scales shimmering under the sunlight. It was curled up around one of the stalks, its tongue flickering it though it did not run way from them. In a moment of connection or perhaps desperation, she had no idea what had overcome her but Holly spoke to the creature, not expecting any response. To her astonishment, the snake responded, its eyes meeting hers in an understanding only they could share.
The beauty of that moment was shattered by the sharp, shrill voice of Petunia Dursley. She had been watching from the kitchen window, her face twisted into a mask of horror and rage. Petunia believed she had beaten every trace of magic from Holly, just as she had tried to cleanse her nephews Harry and Lennox of their magical lineage. Seeing Holly converse with a snake, a clear sign of the very magic she despised, sent her into a frenzy.
Petunia stormed out, her hand swift and harsh as it connected with Holly's cheek. The slap was loud enough to draw the attention of one of their neighbors.
The confrontation that followed was explosive. Vernon Dursley, upon returning home, found his wife in a state of hysteria, Holly with a red mark on her face, and a neighbor ready to report the incident. The argument that ensued was fierce, voices raised high enough to echo across the once quiet street. Neighbors peeked through curtains, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern.
By the end of the week, the block was abuzz with whispered conversations about the Dursleys' household. The local gossip had painted a grim picture of the family dynamics, leading to an inevitable intervention by child protective services.
The decision was made; Holly, Harry and, Lennox were to be moved to an orphanage. Vernon, with a mix of relief and resentment, prepared to drive them there the very next morning.
Holly woke early, the air in Privet Drive thick with an unsettling tension, the kind that stirs the atmosphere before a storm. This heaviness hung over her like a warning, all stemming from that peculiar encounter with a harmless little snake. A gnawing instinct deep in her bones told her that something else was about to happen—something she couldn't quite grasp. When the clock struck three in the morning, a chill crawled down her spine as she became acutely aware of a presence watching her from the shadows of their tiny cupboard. It took all her willpower to meditate quietly, desperate to fend off the panic rising in her chest and avoid waking the boys with her startled gasps.
As she settled into this meditative state, Holly sensed something twisting and shadowy moving through her mindscape. She paused at the entrance to her garden, which she had painstakingly designed with a thorny rose maze. Furrowing her brows, she strained her eyes, searching the dimness for any sign of what lurked on the periphery of her consciousness. That's when she caught a glimpse of a humanoid shadow darting along the edges of her island and slipping beneath the drooping branches of her willow tree.
Determined to confront it, she focused intently, willing her spirit closer to the shadowy form without physically walking there. As she parted the thick leaves that hung like curtains, they faded, dissolving into the glassy black surface of the ocean that circled her island—a barrier to the outside world that was far more than just a natural defense. Beneath those inky waters lay her most guarded secrets, swirling and churning under an illusion of calm.
And now, without her consent, something had slipped past her defenses and invaded her mind.
A flicker of unease gripped Holly. What... was it?
With a sense of urgency, she moved toward the shore, stepping into the depths where she suddenly fell through and landed with a soft thud in a surreal library filled with revolving doors, each labeled with a different number above their metallic frames. A strange nostalgia washed over her as she recognized the design—an echo of a memory that felt like it belonged to another life, though a thick fog obscured all but the number "2319!"
In the midst of the dizzying library, a dark blue door abruptly appeared, ensnared in heavy, swirling black chains that coiled around it like a serpent guarding its treasure. Holly tilted her head, puzzled by its presence. She couldn't recall ever seeing this door before.
"Where did you come from?" she murmured aloud, her voice reverberating through the space, morphing into a haunting echo that danced around her until it faded into silence.
Suddenly, the door began to rattle violently, and a childlike voice on the other side cried out in desperation, pleading to be let out.
"Please! I promise to be good!" The voice rose up, filled with terror and longing.
Holly's heart raced as she stepped closer, her hand instinctively reaching toward the handle.
"Please let me out! It hurts! It really hurts!"
The voice, once innocent, morphed into something distorted and guttural, growing more anguished the nearer Holly came.
With a jolt, she recoiled as the door rattled fiercely, and a deeper, menacing voice began to emerge from the shadows beyond the barrier.
"LET. ME. OUT!" it bellowed, a spine-chilling roar that echoed through the library.
A surge of ice-cold fear coursed through Holly's veins, momentarily paralyzing her, but she fought to shake it off and focused on the door handle once more.
"I wouldn't," a small voice chimed in artfully behind her, causing her to spin around and let out a startled scream.
There, standing amidst the shadows, was the very creature she had sought to confront—the humanoid figure that had danced through her thoughts earlier.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice firm despite the tremor beneath it.
"I don't remember," it replied softly, its features vague and shifting like smoke. "I can never remember..."
"I didn't let you in. You shouldn't be here," Holly hissed, her instincts urging her to protect her own mind from this entity that had dared to intrude. Her hair began to rise with crackles of magic sparking gold and silver in the curly strands.
"I've always been here. I can not remember. I've been trying to get your attention for... For..." Its voice trailed off. "I can't remember."
Holly stared at the shadow child before her, its figure a nebulous mass that flickered in and out of focus. "You can't remember anything?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if she feared shattering the fragile moment.
"No," it replied, the word laden with profound sadness. "It's very lonely... Will you be my friend?"
A chill crawled up Holly's spine. Before she could articulate her upheaval of emotions — a tentative yes, a cautious no — the door behind her began to thump violently. A monstrous voice, boisterous and unhinged, erupted from within, screaming curses that reverberated through her bones. Holly instinctively stepped back, her heart racing in response to the chaos.
"Has this always been here too?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the shadow.
"I don't remember," came the quiet reply, the shadow's form quaking as if in fear.
"Of course, you don't," she sighed heavily, a sense of dismay heavy in her chest.
Holly knew she was dealing with forces beyond her usual understanding. The shadow creature, might just be a fragmented piece of her consciousness, but felt like an unwelcome visitor, while the mysterious, chained door loomed behind her, the source of muffled cries begging for freedom. She had always prided herself on the mastery of her mental landscape, on knowing every nook and cranny of her psyche, but this... this was an invasion of the deepest kind. It felt as if she were unearthing buried secrets, or confronting external forces that were intruding upon her very soul.
The shadow, with its profound lack of memory, mirrored the hidden corners of her own subconscious. The door, angrily shrouded in chains, symbolized the fears, desires, or possibly even the traumatic memories she had long suppressed.
Holly's curiosity, allured yet wary, led her to ponder whether she had the courage to confront what lay behind the door. Risk hung in the air like a thick fog; the unknown could very well harbor terrors that threatened her sanity. Whatever was behind it might not be pleasant or safe. Yet, it could also offer a path to healing, a chance to understand. Knowledge, perhaps more than anything, had always been her greatest weapon, and in Holly's world, the possession of power was not merely advantageous — it was essential for survival.
Taking a tentative step closer to the door, she extended her hand, hovering just above the handle. The chains exuded an almost palpable heat, a physical manifestation of how tightly whatever layef beyond was bound.
"What should I do?" she murmured, her voice trembling as she directed the question at no one in particular, her gaze drifting back to the shadow.
The shadow, now slightly more distinct in form, undulated with an unspoken intensity. "You must decide if you are ready to confront what is kept hidden within. Though if I were you, I wouldn't. It scares me."
With determination forging itself within her, Holly nodded. Gryffindor was in her blood. And this was her mind afterall. Surely it can't be that bad? She reached out and touched the chains, feeling them crumble into ash at her fingertips, revealing the handle that gleamed ominously in the dim light. The door ceased its violent shaking, as if in recognition of the pivotal moment. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Holly grasped the handle and turned it, pulling the door slowly open.
A blinding light erupted from the threshold, spilling into the darkness like molten gold, accompanied by a chaotic symphony of laughter, weeping, whispers, and shouts. The library of doors encircling her began to shudder and swing open, unveiling a kaleidoscope of stories, memories, and perhaps the lies she had woven to shield herself from the truth.
From within the radiant chaos stepped forth figures — three apparitions bearing her face. They looked sickly, their frames gaunt, as though life had drained from them, reducing them to shadows of what they once were.
"We were locked away," the child version of herself, no more than three years old, said in a voice that was sweet yet cloaked in sorrow.
"We've been shouting for you, but you never came," said another, a slightly older version, eyes aflame with an aching intensity.
"We are your strength, your weakness, your fears, and your dreams... And we were locked away," the final version spoke, bitterness lacing her tone like poison.
"I see," Holly murmured, though the weight of understanding eluded her. As her eyes darted to the shadow child behind her, she noticed it trembling, as if sensing an impending doom. A gnawing doubt crawled into her mind, making her question whether she had just made an irreparable mistake.
"Let us in," the child version pleaded, her eyes wide with a mix of hope and desperation. "Let us back in, Holly."
"RUN!" the shadow child screamed, a note of panic etched into its voice. "Run, Holly!"
Holly's heart thundered in her chest as she watched in fascinated horror as the three versions of herself twisted and contorted into a towering figure, cloaked in darkness, its eyes an infinite abyss. It lunged at her, and in a moment of instinct, she seized the shadow child's hand, tugging him to run alongside her.
"YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME!" the beast howled, its voice echoing like thunder resonating through her very soul. "LET ME IN, HOLLY! LET ME IN!"
"You shouldn't have opened the door!" the shadow child cried, terror rippling through its voice. "You shouldn't have!"
Holly ran keeping her hold on the child that was beginning to flicker where she could see flashes of his pale skin and greyish clothes but he was still distorted as if he had no energy himself to hold a form.
She dashed through door after door, each one creaking open to reveal fragments of her past, and fears that clawed at her heels. The monstrous roars chased them like a dark tempest, shaking their world and making everything tremble beneath their feet.
Finally, she burst into yet another room, where a ladder ascended towards the glimmering surface of what seemed like the sky; the only escape from the black ocean below. With urgency, she pushed the child ahead of her. But it shook its head violently, its voice a strained whisper. "I can't! I'm too scared! I don't like heights!"
"I'll go first, then. Follow me. I'll pull you up," Holly assured, her voice steadier than she felt.
Climbing up the ladder, each rung felt slippery beneath her fingers, her heart racing faster with every inch gained. Reaching the top, she thrust her hand beneath the glassy surface, the coolness sending a shiver up her arm. The shadow child grasped her hand, but just as she began to pull it through, something powerful seized it from behind.
"Holly!" it screamed, terror ripping through the air.
Desperation fueled Holly as she thrust more of herself beneath the surface, her eyes locking onto the endless void of the beast's gaze.
"LET ME IN!" it roared, a command that vibrated through her very being.
"Don't let it take me!" the child sobbed, eyes wide with fear. "Don't let it get me!"
"LET GO!" Holly screamed at the beast, her determination bubbling over. "THEY ARE NOT YOURS!"
A slow, sinister smile crept across the beast's hidden face, those void-like eyes gleaming with malice. Its enormous hands reluctantly released the child. Holly, fueled by adrenaline, yanked them both towards the ladder, pushing them upwards with everything she had. But just as escape neared, the beast's grip tightened around her, its shadowy fingers prying her mouth open and delving deep within her, a dark tempest consuming her from the inside out.