Emily Potter-Book 3-Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 2

She shrugged, feeling a hint of a smile rise within her, "I'm just going to the library to read up on some topics that kind of didn't stick with me. Are you sure you want to come along? It's going to be painfully boring."

"Sure," Harry answered all too quickly. "It can't be any more boring than Divination."

~

Harry's brain had gone far too idle that Emily had to kick his leg to snap him out from his zoned-out appearance. She had returned from the farthest shelves to retrieve several textbooks about Divination and the History of Magic. "I told you that you'd get bored," Emily whispered, dusting her hands off on her trousers. "I know I said the subject is rubbish, but I still need to pass." She told him when she had noticed Harry looking at the Divination book.

Thirty minutes into their study period, he began to notice little details from her sister that made Harry realize they weren't as different as he had thought to be. Emily made frequent detours from reading about Divination to skimming through the pages of History of Magic and then to Potions before turning back to Divination. Other than that, her attention flew right out the window whenever she sat too long in one position. It took her at least five minutes to get comfortable in various situations, the final one being her legs tucked and crossed underneath her.

"Em," Harry finally spoke up, closing the book he was pretending to read. "Might I ask you something?"

She looked up from a page about crystal balls and grinned at him. "Sure."

"That night on the train back to school... You were screaming things, and you sounded like you were in danger." His memory retained every moment of it to his displeasure, but he had to know what exactly his sister had gone through before Hogwarts, before meeting him. Emily's smile gradually faded and darkened in bitterness of the memory. "Harry – "

Once he sensed the dismissiveness in her tone, Harry stepped up to her. "Em, we're all we've got. I'm your brother and I would like to know the truth, and if you're safe where you are and where you have been."

Everything that her brother told her changed her outlook on how she perceived her family. As broken and fragmented and unconventional as it was, Emily had a family. She had to be as blunt to him as she had been to her Aunt Minerva. "When I was seven years old, someone tried to attack me." Emily began to retell the sordid details of the wretched story. "He worked at the orphanage I lived in, and one night when he was drunk... I don't know what went through his mind, but he went after me and I fought for my life, Harry, I really tried – " Her voice thinned in the recount of her trauma, her eyes tainted with fear. "I didn't know what I could do, I didn't know about magic at all – All I wanted to do was fight, to survive."

Harry reached for her hand to console her. She had flinched upon the unexpected contact but soon melted under his touch, Emily held his hand for comfort. "It was only when Aunt Minerva took me in that I found out that magic was a fickle thing to control at that age, I didn't know any better – "

"What are you trying to say, Em?"

Much like the tides shifting under the full moon, the energy behind her glassy eyes changed Harry's perception of her emotions. She was not displaying her sorrows for anyone, she was portraying her fear for herself. "I – I think I killed him, Harry." Emily said, her hoarse voice breaking into a dry laugh, "It wasn't my intention, but I wished for it – I begged for his death. And before I knew it, right in front of my eyes, he was gone." Harry did not flinch. He wasn't surprised since he himself did technically murder Professor Quirrell two years ago, but the initial shock from learning his sister's capacity to murder was still on its way to set inside his mind.

Emily took her hand away from his and recoiled in her seat, her fingers threading along with the black ribbon bookmark of the Divination textbook. "No one could find where his body went, but I was so sure that he had flown right out of my bedroom window... No one had a clue what happened, all they knew was that I was the last person to have seen him alive."