Chapter 1
Date: July 31st, 1991
There was something always so pleasant about the American Pacific Northwest. Minerva couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t a mile away from a hiking point or did not have pristine water. The landscapes and vast waves of the Pacific Ocean always surrounded her, sparking inspiration for new stories and poems.
This wasn’t to say she was happy. She wasn’t. Plain and simple. Minerva, or Minny, had always felt guilty for being surrounded by beauty and yet still being unfulfilled. Usually, she would stick that guilt to the foster care system for throwing her from house to house for the last (almost) 11 years.
Minerva had lived all over the Pacific Northwest in her little time on earth. Despite its beauty, she vowed that if she ever escaped, she would never come back. She longed to forget all of her foster families and the horrors that desolated the comfort of such a beautiful place. Currently, she was spending her first night at her… 4th? No maybe 5th family.
As soon as she walked in, Minerva knew it would be just like the others. The house was unkempt and smelled of something familiar to rats. There were children of all ages running through the house unbathed, unfed, and simply ignored into oblivion. Money. All the families she had encountered wanted that and ONLY that. Not a child to raise or love or simply care for.
So, here she was, on the eve of her 11th birthday, listening to the delighted screams of the younger children playing too late, while she tried to adjust on a lumpy mattress. Not her worst birthday, she thought. Minerva had known of people enduring worse cases than hers. Hell, she had lived the worst cases. Drawing a cake in the dust on the floor may have been pathetic, but no less than anything else occurring around her.
What should she wish for? She thought to herself as she drew the candles and flames. She had never had a cake for her birthday before, and consequently never had made a wish. Well, perhaps she had made a few throwing coins into fountains, but that was merely a passing notion. The only thing Minerva truly wanted was a friend.
As simple and silly as that sounded that was truly all she had wanted. I would be a good friend she thought. I would buy them gifts, make them laugh, comfort them. She looked at the clock on the wall as it ticked to midnight and blew out the dust-drawn candles. Just a friend.
She waited for a moment… nothing. As disappointed as she was that her wish had not just magically come true, she wasn’t exactly shocked. Minerva rolled over and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in a dreamless sleep when she was awoken. The house was silent, unnerving. This house as far as she could tell was never silent.
Minerva wasn’t stupid, if something had happened, she wouldn’t check. She had no weapons and was 11. Faintly she could hear a deep voice through the wall, coming presumably from the living room. It was one she did not recognize and it was rich with some European accent. She assumed British but honestly, she was terrible at recognizing accents.
Her foster parents were responding to this fellow in hushed whisper yells. They were clearly upset. There was another voice that she did not recognize as well. This one was squeaky, male, and also British. The voice asked to see her, whoever that was. Footsteps began to approach her door and she quickly flipped over and shut her eyes.
“She’s asleep. Just wake her up I guess,” her foster dad said to someone on the other side of the door. It opened with a chilling creak followed by the soft pads of someone's feet on the stained carpet. She could practically feel their eyes on her causing her heart rate to spike. She stayed still.
“Minerva? Minerva wake up…,” she recognized it as the younger squeaky voice. Filling her lungs with as much air as she could, she turned around cautiously mumbling, “Yes?” A boy was kneeling next to her, around her age. He had disheveled brown hair, round-framed glasses, and a plaid that was much too large hanging around his body.
When he turned on the light she could see him more clearly. Minerva noticed a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, identical to the one on her hip. “I’m Harry Potter. I honestly don’t know what’s happening but… you’re my twin sister.”