Clara still got nervous every time she arrived
in London. Even after six years of schooling at Hogwarts, she stood in King’s
Cross Station weak at the knees. Upon arriving at Platform 9¾, familiar faces
greeted her as they all boarded the train. This eased the knots in her stomach
slightly, but the same old thoughts ran through her mind:

They’re
being nice to me out of pity. Poor Clara. It’s bad enough she’d forced to live
in the States, but to be Harry Potter’s over-shadowed and forgotten twin
sister? Poor Clara.

She’d gone through the first six
years of school, keeping her head down and out of the spotlight as much as
possible. But her brother had to be the center of everything and more often
than not, she got dragged into Harry’s drama in some way. Clara loved her
brother as much as she could for someone who hardly knew anything about him,
that is. Both acknowledged the other, but neither of them cared to take the
time to know each other. They only talked when they had no one else to talk to,
which for Clara was almost always.

Like today, for example, Clara had
found an empty car and was sending some last minute messages to her friends
back home in Washington. Then, without knocking or even asking if they could
share the car, both Harry and Ron Weasely barged into the car.

Clara rolled her eyes and turned
off her phone, placing it in her bag as she said. “Way to knock, Potter.”

This caused Harry to jump so high
he hit his head on the luggage rack, knocking his silly circle glasses askew.

“Bloody hell, Clara,” Ron said as
Harry rubbed his sore head and fixed his glasses. “You scared both of us to
death.”

“If only,” she muttered under her
breath.

“No need to be so rude, Sis,” Harry
said, sitting down next to her. He tried to place his arm around her, but she pushed
him away. The odor of owls was contagious and he reeked of it. That damned bird
was the closest thing to a girlfriend he was ever going to get.

“What? No hug for your big brother?
But I haven’t seen you in months. You really should stay with us during the
hol—” Slap!

She wasn’t sorry. He’d tried to
wrap his arms around her again. He crumbled back against his seat. All Ron did
was chuckle.

“Jesus, Clara,” Harry said, his
pale cheek now a vibrant crimson. “There’s no reason to be an arse.”

The made her irate. “You barge in here and take over the car
without even a simple ‘Do you mind?’ And then you invade my personal
space and I’m the ass? Fuck off.”

She didn’t allow him to answer her.
She turned her phone back on and made a big show of putting her headphones in.
The only noise she could hear over Lana del Rey was Ron’s cackling, which died
down eventually.

Only
one more year, she told herself. Then
you never have to see him. You can go back to your old life and just be Clara
Porter again.

Clara had no desire to keep in
contact with the magical world at all once she left Hogwarts. Here, she’d
always be Harry Potter’s twin sister; or— and this was worse— Clara, that witch
from America. She wanted to be neither of these things. All she wanted out of
life was a loving husband and children of her own. Maybe a job teaching second
grade— this Auror or herbologist or wandmaker shit didn’t even make her list
of possible occupations.

She daydreamed of a normal life
until her music became static. Knowing they were nearing the castle, she went
to change into her robes. She smoothed her skirt and made sure her tie looked
ok. Combing her fingers through her hair, she saw flashes of her mother in her
appearance, her father in her eyes. It was times like this that she felt guilty
for not wanting to be magical— they’d both given their lives for her too, not
just Harry. The crescent-shaped scar on her shoulder was a constant reminder of
that.

She stared intently at herself, her
reddish hair more vibrant than ever now that she bore her house colors. That
too, was another reason she didn’t belong in her family’s world— what child of
Lily and James Potter would ever be in Slytherin?

Before she started feeling too
guilty of her choice, she shoved her hair back into her beanie and made her way
back to her car, where Harry waited, ready to tease her about being in the
wrong house.

***

Clara watched silently as Professor
McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the students one by one. Each time the
Hat’s voice boomed out the new student’s house, she jumped. She was not used to
this, nor did she think she was ever going to get used to it. When it was her
turn to be sorted, McGonagall had stumbled over her name, accidentally calling
her ‘Potter’ instead of ‘Porter.’ She had quietly corrected her right before
she placed the Hat on her head. The Hat’s voice made her jump when it spoke in
her ear.

Hmm,
it said. Clara Porter or— Potter I should
say.

It’s
Porter. She thought.

Oh
no, my dear. The Hat said, tauntingly. Your
name, your blood shares that of your infamous brother. Yes, dear, you are a
Potter indeed. Now, where to put you? Hmm…

Please
I don’t want to be a Potter; I want to just be Clara Porter. Nothing else.

Hmm,
the Hat went on, seemingly ignoring her thoughts. I know exactly where to put you: “SLYTHERIN!”

When the Hat was finally taken off
her head, Clara felt all eyes in the room on her. She kept her eyes low, and
made her way over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to a little blond
boy who smiled before turning his head back to McGonagall. No one spoke to or
welcomed her. All their eyes were fixated on Harry Potter, anxiously awaiting
his Sorting.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Amidst the cheers of the Grffindor
table, the little blond boy next to her turned to look at her. His eyes were
the palest gray she’d ever seen and his face incredibly pointed.

“Aren’t you glad you got sorted
into the right house?” He asked, a small sneer on his face. “I’m Draco, by the
way. Draco Malfoy.” Clara hadn’t known that such a small person could have such
an air of superiority about him.

“Oh, uhm,” Clara mumbled. “I’m
Clara and I suppose so.” He gave her a funny look. “What?”

“You talk funny.”

“I do not!” She said, offended. “I
talk perfectly normal for where I come from, thank you very much.”

“Well, where is that, because it
certainly isn’t the United Kingdom.”

“I’m from Washington State.”

His inquisitive faced turned
immediately to disgust. “You’re American?
And to think it’s bad enough that you’re related to Potter.”

Everyone around them laughed in
response. Clara didn’t say anything back nor did she defend herself. She just
wanted to be home in Seattle.

By the end of the Start of Term
Feast, the whole school knew that she was American, and Harry Potter’s twin
sister.

***

It was another year, another term.
Clara, for the first time since their first Feast, found herself sitting by
Draco Malfoy. Throughout their years at Hogwarts, they’d only spoken about
mundane subjects such as Transfiguration essays or their mutual annoyance with
anything have to do with Potter. They were amicable, but never friendly. One
time of calling her American in the
same degrading tone he used for mudblood
and she knew the effort would be futile. She ignored him, despite the fact he
didn’t say a word towards or about her.

She watched the Sorting with glazed
eyes, automatically clapping when Slytherin was shouted. It was routine to her,
and she was incredibly bored throughout the entire Feast; but try as she might,
she couldn’t will it to be over.

After the feast, and everyone had
returned to their common rooms, Clara found a small piece of parchment waiting
for her on her bed. Curious, she opened it:

Meet me in the Room of
Requirement at half-past midnight
tonight.

No name, nothing to give a hint at
to this was. Nonetheless, it did pique her interest, and made plans to sneak
out of her dorm later that night.