Prologue
Penelope Potter was getting tired of seeing her own face on the front page of The Daily Prophet fake-smiling back at her every other day. Even twelve years after the Battle of Hogwarts and Lord Voldemort’s demise at the hand of Penelope and her twin brother Harry, Rita Skeeter apparently didn’t tire of spinning elaborate and adventurous tales about the Potter Twins that defied death - twice. Last month it was a two page special about Harry’s recent promotion to Head of the Auror Office, that was - as always - more exaggeration and rumours than a truthful recollection of the actual event, and today it seemed the eccentric journalist had chosen to focus on the slightly less famous Potter sibling.
One would think that after all these years, people got tired of reading about the same old rubbish over and over again. Well, apparently not. Or Rita Skeeter simply didn’t care.
Penelope Potter - The End Of A Legend?
Penelope rolled her eyes as they scanned over the lurid headline spreading across the front page of today’s issue. Even without having read further, she could already tell what this article was about. Leave it to Mrs Skeeter to make a mountain out of a teeny-tiny dust spec.
Potter, a name that is so deeply ingrained in our recent history that every child in the wizarding world knows it: The Twins That Lived, that defeated He Whose Name Still Shall Not Be Named and emerged from the legendary Battle of Hogwarts as victors.
Almost twelve years have passed since the tragic event that has cost as many lives as it has shaped, and while Harry Potter’s career and family life is flourishing more than ever, we do have to wonder what the other twin is doing these days.
There certainly haven’t been many achievements or tell-tale promotions in recent years. It almost seems as if Penelope Potter has entirely disappeared off the face of the Earth (editor’s note: Please excuse the lack of a recent photograph for that reason). Has the former archivist of the Department of Mysteries, that has procured outstanding results in her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams, forsaken the wizarding world entirely? Has she gone on a holiday, or is there perhaps a darker reason behind her disappearance from public? According to recent rumours-
“You should stop reading this nonsense.”
Penelope looked up from the newspaper to see Neville Longbottom, her best friend since their first year in Hogwarts, sitting down next to her on the docks leading to the lake that was surrounding Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, like a protective circle. The Herbology Professor and Head of House Gryffindor was still dressed in his tawdry gardening apron he always wore during his classes, specs of dirt clinging to it. He reached out and gently pried the newspaper out of her hand, neatly folding it in his lap. “I mean it. You don’t want to read about all of those nasty rumours coursing around currently.”
Penelope grimaced. “These rumours can’t be worse than what they wrote about Harry and me after that interview with Umbridge during our fifth year, or when Voldemort took control over the Ministry of Magic.”
Neville didn’t even flinch when she called Lord Voldemort by his name. He used to do that in the past. Before he used the legendary Sword of Gryffindor to cut off the head of Voldemort’s beloved pet snake, nagini. Ever since then, it seemed as though he lost his fear of the dark wizard entirely.
A small, proud smile tucked on the corners of her lips. The young Hogwarts Professor now sitting next to her was a far throw from the shy and stuttering little boy that had been searching the entire Hogwarts Express for his pet toad Trevor nineteen years ago. Who would have thought that he would mature into such a fine young man and Professor that was much beloved by his students? Certainly not Neville himself.
“I wouldn’t sign that,” The Herbology Professor replied, a grim look on his face. “These are some really nasty ones. They’re claiming you’re about to turn into the next Lord Voldemort, that a part of his soul still lingers in you.”
Penelope snorted humorlessly. “So we’re back to the same old stories? I remember people saying the same about Harry when he was revealed to be a parseltongue, and now he’s celebrated as a hero.” She sighed, patting Neville’s arm reassuringly. “These are just rumours. There’s nothing interesting happening in the wizarding world right now. The war is over, the Death Eaters have all been rounded up and sent to Azkaban and Kingsley got the Ministry back under order. The Daily Prophet simply needs some catchy headlines to draw in readers. It’s okay. I’m used to this.”
It was a thinly-veiled lie and Neville saw right through it, unsurprisingly. He had always been pretty good at reading her. It was part of the reason he was her closest confidante, apart from her twin brother.
“It bothers you that they believe you to be capable of turning to the dark side,” he concluded, giving her a knowing look. “And you’re scared that they’re right.”
Penelope swallowed hard and turned her head to the castle emerging from the other side of the lake like the impenetrable fortress of stone and ancient magic it was. Or well, used to be. Hogwarts’ walls didn’t feel as safe as they once did since the battle. Penelope spent the entire seventh year that she willingly repeated together with Hermione, worrying that the last remaining Death Eaters would attack them. In the end nothing had happened and she managed to absolve her N.E.W.T. exams without any interference, but the nightmares remained.
Even now, over a decade later, she was still dreaming about the horrors of the war she experienced, the death of beloved people, the destruction. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back at the battlefield on the grounds of Hogwarts, watching in horror as Fred Weasley was hit and thrown through the air by Rookwook’s explosion, heard George’s agonising scream when his twin brother drew his last breath. She also saw Remus Lupin being hit by Dolohow’s death curse mere seconds after he had to watch his wife being killed by Bellatrix Lestrange.
Cedric.
Fred.
Remus.
Tonks.
Dobby.
Even Sirius and Dumbledore.
She had seen far too many people dying before her eighteenth birthday. It was not surprising that her psyche was struggling to process everything.
“I’m not scared of turning into Voldemort,” she retorted, still avoiding eye contact. “I value my humanity too much to ever let it go. I know for a fact that he is gone, even the part of his soul that was transferred to me when he tried to kill Harry and me that night in Godric’s Hollow. All of this just reminds me of the dark times we lived through.” She grimaced. “It’s probably why I feel so…lost and just can’t seem to move forward. I’m still stuck in the past, reliving moments that I know I couldn’t have changed, but still wish I did. I really don’t know how you all do it; moving on. I just can’t, no matter how hard I try.”
For a long moment both of them bathed in silence and the last remaining rays of the late afternoon sun reflecting and glistening on the lake’s dark, turquoise-blue surface. Penelope closed her eyes and threw her head back, soaking in the tranquillity of this place, this moment. It wasn’t something she was getting often in her home in London or when she was staying over for Sunday dinner with her brother, his three little children and the ever-chaotic but lovable Weasley family that seemed to be growing even bigger with every visit.
It was part of the reason she liked to come here as often as she could. That, and it offered her a perfect opportunity to visit Neville, due to its close proximity to Hogwarts.
Neville slowly turned his head back in her direction, giving her a long, contemplative look. “Maybe you should take a break and go and live with the Muggles for a while. At least until everything has blown over. Didn’t your cousin move to the States recently? How about you pay him a visit, you know, go on a little holiday.”
Penelope raised her eyebrows at him. “You mean I should hide like a coward?”
“Not like a coward. Like someone that’s in desperate need for a break,” he corrected her. “Didn’t you say you feel lost? Well, a soul-searching trip to some calm and quiet American small town sounds like the perfect remedy for that.”