The cupboard under the stairs was small, but it was the only place in the world where the air didn't feel heavy with a thousand unspoken expectations.
Harry sat on the edge of the thin mattress, his knees pulled up to his chin, watching his sister. Ana was sitting cross-legged, her dark hair falling over her face as she scribbled on a scrap of paper. She didn't speak. She hadn't spoken a full sentence in three weeks—not since she had accidentally told the librarian to "be quiet," and the poor woman had literally lost her voice for two hours.
"You okay, Ana?" Harry whispered.
Ana looked up. Her eyes weren't the bright green of Harry's; they were a haunting, misty silver that seemed to swirl like smoke. She reached out and squeezed his hand twice. I'm fine.
"Dudley's coming," Harry warned, hearing the heavy thud of their cousin's footsteps on the stairs above. "Stay behind me. Don't look at him."
The door to the cupboard flew open. Dudley stood there, his face reddened from a morning of tantrums. He had intended to kick Harry's shin, but the moment his eyes landed on Ana, his entire demeanor shifted. The malice drained out of him, replaced by a glazed, vacant look of adoration.
"Ana," Dudley mumbled, his voice thick and strange. "I... I brought you my extra chocolate bar. From the bin. I mean, from the pantry."
He held out a crumpled Hershey's bar. He didn't offer any to Harry. In fact, he looked at Harry with a flicker of annoyance, as if Harry were a smudge of dirt on a pristine painting.
"Take it," Harry urged quietly.
Ana shook her head, her lips pressed tight. She didn't want the chocolate. She didn't want the way Dudley looked at her—like she was a porcelain doll he had to protect. But she knew that if she didn't take it, Dudley might stay longer, and the "Pull" would only get stronger.
She reached out a small, pale hand and took the candy.
"Good," Dudley sighed, a look of immense relief washing over him. "Do you want my pillow? I can get my pillow for you."
"She's fine, Dudley," Harry snapped, moving to block Dudley's view of her. "Go away."
Normally, Dudley would have swung a fist. Instead, he just blinked stupidly at Harry, his brain struggling to process why anyone would speak so roughly in Ana's presence. "Don't... don't let her get cold," Dudley muttered before wandering off toward the kitchen, completely forgetting he had come to torment them.
The Grocery Store IncidentA week later, Aunt Petunia took them to the supermarket. It was a calculated risk. She usually left them with Mrs. Figg, but the old woman was ill.
Petunia walked through the aisles with a stiff back, her hand gripped tightly around Ana's shoulder. She treated Ana with a bizarre, frantic sort of devotion—constantly adjusting her collar, smoothing her hair, and whispering "My sweet girl" while completely ignoring Harry, who was tasked with pushing the heavy trolley.
"Don't let the commoners touch her, Harry," Petunia hissed as they entered the produce section.
It happened near the apples. A tall man in a business suit was rushing past, distracted by his watch. He accidentally bumped into Ana, jolting her small frame.
Ana gasped, her hand flying to her chest. The "Influence" didn't just leak out; it exploded.
The man stopped dead. The woman in the next aisle dropped her bag of oranges. The teenager stocking shelves turned around, his eyes locking onto the small girl with the silver eyes.
"I'm so sorry," the man in the suit whispered, dropping to his knees. He looked devastated, as if he had just committed a mortal sin. "Please, little mistress, I didn't mean to. Are you hurt? What can I do?"
"She's fine!" Harry shouted, stepping between them. He felt the familiar prickle of Ana's power on his skin—it felt like static electricity—but he was the only one who could fight it. "Leave her alone! Move back!"
"He should pay," the shelf-stocker muttered, stepping forward with a crate in his hand, his eyes fixed on the man who had bumped Ana. "He shouldn't have touched her."
The atmosphere in the store turned sharp, protective, and dangerous. A dozen strangers were suddenly ready to riot on behalf of a ten-year-old girl who hadn't said a word.
"Ana," Harry whispered, grabbing her trembling shoulders. "Fix it. You have to fix it before someone gets hurt."
Ana looked at the crowd, her silver eyes glowing with unshed tears. She hated this. She hated the way they looked at her—not as a person, but as something they had to worship and defend. She took a deep breath, her small voice ringing out through the silent store.
"Everyone... just go back to what you were doing. Please. Forget I'm here."
The effect was instantaneous. The man in the suit blinked, stood up, and looked confusedly at his watch before walking away. The woman gathered her oranges. The tension snapped like a broken rubber band.
Petunia snatched Ana up, her face pale. "Into the car. Now."
The Night Before the LettersThat night in the cupboard, Harry stayed awake, watching the thin line of light under the door. Ana was curled up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. To the world, she was a queen, a goddess, a fragile treasure.
To Harry, she was just his sister. The girl who liked her toast burnt. The girl who cried when she saw a squashed bug.
"They're going to see it, aren't they?" Ana whispered into his shirt. Her voice was tiny, safe only because it was for him. "When we go to school. Everyone will... they'll all be like Dudley."
Harry tightened his arm around her. "I won't let them, Ana. I'll stay right in front of you. If they try to treat you like a baby, I'll tell them off. And if they try to crowd you..." He looked at his own thin, scarred hands. "I'll make them regret it."
Ana closed her eyes. "You're the only one who hears me, Harry. Not just the voice. Actually hears me."
"I always will," Harry promised.
He didn't know that in a few hours, a giant named Hagrid would break down their door. He didn't know that the wizarding world was waiting for them. But as he felt the soft, rhythmic breathing of his twin sister, he knew one thing for certain:
He would be her shield, even if he had to fight the whole world to keep her free.