This is honestly just random things I have and am gonna put here. Art and stuffens.

The one under is a Hp fanfic of mine. Overview of said fanfic: Harry wasn't the actual chosen one. He has an older sister who didn't get the fame/popularity. He also took the credit for defeating voldy and fabricated the story to his advantage. This is about her life. (It also has my friend's OC Scorpius, Draco's older brother in this fic. I have permission) So, yeah! It's going to be in the next one. It's a WIP so edits and stuff are needed still.

♡Prologue♡

We’ve all heard the story of Harry Potter, The boy who lived. What if I told you that the story was fabricated to Harry’s advantage? Yes, he did slay Nagini, and found the sorcerer's stone. However, Dumbledore wasn’t as kind as he seemed. Professor Snape was a caring figure.

My name is Penelope Daffodil Potter. Eldest child of Lily and James Potter. I wasn’t spoken of in those stories. My story was left unwritten. Until now. I’ll do my best to explain it all, however strange it may seem. Trust me, it gets strange.

Never ‘The Girl Who Lived’

I was never ‘The girl who Lived’. A girl, found a week later, half dead in the rubble isn’t a girl who hits the front page. I was left unrecognized and unknown until my time at Hogwarts. People would smile and wave to Harry whenever we went out with our Aunt Petunia. I never was. Harry lived upstairs in Dudleys old room, while I was in the cupboard. At eleven years old, I stood around five foot four inches. I was quite tall, yet I was crammed into that small space. There was a good reason that Harry wasn’t placed into Ravenclaw. When I got my letter, I didn’t walk into the living room, mouth agape like a dummy reading it. I fastly snuck it into my so-called ‘room’ and delivered my Uncle the mail. He was quite the person. Big and bulky.

I wasn’t bothered much at night, allowing me to read my letter in peace. It confused me greatly. A school for witches and wizards? I was accepted? Don’t get me started on the list of supplies. A pewter cauldron? Where in the world would I find that? Well, a week or so passed, and, the now Headmistress, McGonagall arrived at the house to send me to get my supplies. It was short and sweet. I’m here for Penelope, she took me, and I got to see the wonders of Diagon Alley. Uncle Vernon didn’t hesitate. She looked pretty stern.

“Who are you?” I asked her as she walked alongside me. She didn’t look at me as she spoke. “Professor McGonagall.” Her face was stern, yet kind at the same time. Her eyes sparkled somewhat when I spoke. She stopped in front of an old house. I was wondering how far we walked. “Come, Dear.” She walked up the front steps. Adjusting my footing and putting a cautious foot behind the other, I asked, “Isn’t this trespassing?” McGonagall looked at me, a smile brightening up her usually stern face. “No, Dear. Come along.” I followed her slowly. To my surprise, the inside of the house was clean and fully furnished. She walked to the fireplace. She went into her robe pocket, pulling out a small leather pouch. “This,” she started, “is Floo powder. You stand in the fireplace, with no fire of course. You say in a very clear voice where you wish to go, and you will arrive. It is crucial for you to be clear, or else the powder will take you somewhere else.” She gave me a small handful of the powder. “Now, you will say Diagon Alley. I shall be right behind you. Throw it up as you say it.” I walked into the fireplace, unsure if it would work. I spoke in a clear voice, throwing the Floo powder up.

I was surrounded by green powder and lights for a brief moment. Coughing, I waved my hand, trying to get the powder away from me. I stepped out of the fireplace I had arrived in. It was in a brick wall. Strange. McGonagall was right behind me. “Are you alright, Dear? Usually the first time headaches can happen.”
“I’m just confused, is all. How is magic… an actual thing?”
Profesor McGonagall thought for a moment. “It always has been. Muggle stories on magic are based on ours, just different due to the years of the stories being passed down and changed. Trust me, it’s going to be easier to understand once you’re taught. Now, enough of that. We need to get your supplies and payment.”

“Payment?”

“Just follow me, dear.”


I was brought to Gringotts Bank to get something. McGonagall grabbed something from a vault real quick, and then went to another. She encouraged me to step inside. Money. Strange coins piled up. “Is this--” I pointed at myself, “-Mine?” McGonagall nodded her head. “Yes, Dear, this is yours.” I shoved a good amount of coins into my pocket before heading out. McGonagall had gotten me a bag to place my money in, but I didn’t do it. Walking out of Gringotts, my pockets were practically drooping as I had shoved so much into them.

No one recognized my face, and I was okay with that. I got my supplies in peace. I still feel sorry for the tailors who had to fit robes for a tall first year. Then it was time for my wand. He recognized me. Probably because of the scar.

“Ah, Miss Potter” He spoke to me with a smile. “I was wondering when you’d be in my shop.”
“You know me?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Of course! You’re a Potter!”
He was the one of the few people who didn’t say I was Harry’s sister.
“Let's find your wand!” He exclaimed and walked along the aisles, finding a few.

I tried some, I even tried Harry’s wand, which hated me the most. He excused himself and went to the back. He grabbed an old, dust covered wand box. “This,” he started, “is a wand my great grandfather made years ago, when he was a young wizard.” Olivander blew the dust off of the box. He then lifted up the top of the box, pulling out the wand.
“Twelve and three quarter inches,” he started. “Cherry wood, Unicorn core. Very swooshy. Deer antler handle. They made them fancier back then.” The wand had a crook near the top, making it look like a lighting bolt. It was similar to my scar. I took the wand, the feeling of the bone handle new against my skin.
“Give it a swoosh!” He said, gesturing with his own wand. I flicked the wand with my wrist and a light orange glow emitted from the point. The same color as my hair.
“Ah! Perfect.” He exclaimed, putting it back in the box and giving it to me swiftly. I didn’t even have time to react. Putting the box under my arm, I gave him the payment. Mcgonagall was waiting outside, other supplies in hand.

“You remember that you can pick a companion animal?” As she reminded me, she pushed her square glasses up her nose. Very studious. I knew then to never get on her bad side.

We walked into a small shop, filled with toads, rats, owls, and cats. She told me to look around, to find an animal I liked. I looked at the toads, rats, and owls first. I mean, the rats were cute, but small. Owls were just... Too big. Toads... I don’t need to explain. I walked over to the cats. There were some kittens, some adults. I was drawn to a raggedy old calico cat. He was sitting in the corner, away from the other animals. I could tell that he had lived long and seen things. His left ear was torn half way, and he was missing an eye. I knew I wanted him as my companion.

I approached him, and he hissed at me. “Shh... I’m safe, Kitty kitty.” I reached out, my finger brushing against his nose. He hissed at me once more, but it was softer than the prior. Sitting on my knees, I put my hand out flat, palm up. Mr. Kitty cautiously took a step closer. Wiggling my fingers, I clicked my tongue, hoping he’d come closer. He did indeed, much to my surprise. He put his head in my hand and allowed me to scratch him. He liked it behind his ear.

“He’s usually very feisty.” A voice said from behind me. I turned, and saw an old lady. Her silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun, little circle glasses perched at the edge of her nose. “It took him a minute. I’m glad I got through to him.” We shared a chuckle.

This old cat liked me, I assume. She got me a kennel, but the kitty refused to get in. He just sat on my shoulder. I handed over the payment for my new companion. I named him Rascal. I thought it matched.

When I got home, Uncle Vernon was not happy with the cat in the house. Dudley tried to corner Rascal. He learned his lesson after Rascal scratched him across the face. Auntie Petunia almost passed out when she saw the scratch on his face. “Oh, snookums!” She exclaimed. “I hope it doesn’t scar like your cousins’.” I hoped it did. Sadly, my hopes didn’t come true.


The boy at the station


Life was fairly tame the rest of the time until the start of the term. As I was trying to find platform 9 and ¾, I saw a blond boy, around my age. He had a barn owl on his trolley, so I assumed he was going to the platform as well. “Excuse me.” I said as I approached him. He looked at me. I stood a few inches taller than him. “Are you trying to find the platform as well?” He nodded, pointing to a brick support beam. “Yeah, you run through there. I’m scared to do it.” I became scared as soon as he said we would run through the wall. “Well, we can both do it!” I exclaimed, hoping my fear wasn’t noticeable in my voice.. We both counted down from three and ran into the wall. We went through it, and on the other side there was a new train station. It had other students, both new and returning.

“Um, could we sit together? It’s my first year.” The blond boy asked.
“It’s mine too.” He seemed surprised.
“But you’re-” He put his hand up, gesturing to my height.
“Yeah...” I chuckled sheepishly.. We put our bags away and went into a cabinet on the train.

“I’m Penelope.” I said, holding out my hand for him.
“Scorpius.” He gave my hand a firm squeeze and pulled away.

“I’m pureblood, you?” He asked.
“I’m not entirely sure.” I answered.
“Why don’t you know?”
I was surprised he hadn’t asked about the scar yet.
“My parents died when I was young. I don’t know much.”
“Are you a Potter?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“That explains the scar. You’re halfblood then!” He exclaimed. “Your brother is famous! I didn’t know he had a sister!”
Rubbing the nape of my neck, I answered. “Most don’t. I never went in the papers.” I explained to him why. A sad expression shifted onto his face.
“Never mind all that, do you know about the houses?” He asked.
“Houses? We’ll live in houses? I thought it was like, dorms.”
“No, silly. What category of student’s you’ll be sorted into!” He explained to me all of the houses.

“I think I could fit in most of them.” I said while in thought.
“You’ll probably get something similar to your parents. That’s probably what’s going to happen with me.”
“I think McGonagall said something about them being in Gryffindor.” I mumbled, staring out the window as I tried to remember McGonagall’s words.
“Then you might get that. My parents are Slytheryn. I’ll most likely get that.”

I nodded, taking in his statement. He said something about those two houses hating each other. I sure hope that wouldn’t be the case. He was so nice. Maybe we would have classes together.


An old crusty hat decides my fate


The train came to a stop and most of the students were already in their school robes. I put my robes on and grabbed my suitcase. Rascal was perched peacefully on my shoulder. A tall bearded man was guiding the students to some boats to go across a lake to the school. I saw the amazing castle over the lake. That was my home for the next few months? Splendid.

The blond kid, Scorpius, from the train stood next to me. “I’ve always heard of Hogwarts, but I never thought it was so… Magical. I mean, it is but-” He sheepishly corrected.
I nodded in agreement. “I’ve heard a few things from Professor McGonagall, but not much else.”

The bearded man cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention.
“Students! My name is hagrid.” His talking was dumb-like.
“I am the caretaker har at hog’arts. Yer youn’ns, I means y’all firsters. The old’r students w’ll help yer lear the ropes.”

Me and Scorpius got into a boat with a seventh year student. She was kind. Very kind.

“So,” The student started, her Scottish accent heavy. “You’re gonna love it here.” She looked at me for a quick moment. She clearly noticed the scar. “That’s a bit gnarly. Reminds me of the scar of The Boy who Lived.”

I didn’t enjoy that sentence. “Does everyone know about him?”
“Of course! He’s famous.”
I felt like I had never existed at that moment. I guess it was nice not being famous but I guess that wasn’t going to last long. We made our way over to the castle, entering the great doors.

Scorpius and I just stood there, our jaws lowered.
“Merlin’s beard..” He said. “This is amazing! More than I imagined.”
“It’s everything.” I said. I loved this place already. It was an escape from my life! From living with the Dursleys.

We lined up in front of a stool, where Mcgonagall was standing with an old hat. I thought the hat was a bit crusty.

The hat started singing, telling a story about four houses. Hufflepuff, for the kind. Slytherin, for the cunning. Gryffindor, for the brave. Ravenclaw, for the smart. Scorpius had already told me about these houses on the train, but it was fun to hear it in song form.

Names were called, starting from last name alphabetically.

Ackenson, Lily. She got placed into Gryffindor.
Ackenson, Luke. Her twin I guess, got Hufflepuff.

Names kept being called. One by one, Scorpius and I got more nervous.

Malfoy, Scorpius. His name was called. He walked up to the stool and sat down. It took the hat three minutes before he was sorted. “Slytherin!” The hat shouted. His gray robes turned green as he slumped over to the table with the other Slythern students.

Potter, Penelope. Everyone’s head turned, staring at me. I hated the eyes on me. It made my skin crawl with spiders, ants, and other creepy crawly insects. I walked up to the stool, not making eye contact with anyone.

I heard the hat speak to me as I sat on the stool. “Ah, a Potter. Much like your parents I see.” It spooked me to say the least.

“You’re quite smart. Very much, Ravenclaw would suit you. Generous as well, graceful. And quite the persuasionist I see as well. You remind me of your mother. Great potential for any house. Well, not Gryffindor oddly. What house do you think would suit you, Potter?”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I’m fine with what fits.” Why was I calling a sentient hat sir? No clue.

“Very well.” He humphed. “Ravenclaw!” He shouted, and a table full of people in blue cloaks clapped. I hopped off the stool and walked over to the table, sitting next to another first year.

“Wow, a Potter! In our house!” He clapped and took my hand by force, shaking it. “Are you related to Harry Potter?”

“Uh, yes.” Mumbling, I hoped he wouldn’t hear.

The boy grinned. “Wow! Your brother is famous! I didn’t know he had a sister!” One of the many times that I got tired of being a Potter.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up, cleared his voice, and spoke. Just looking at him, I felt a weird feeling. There was more behind that kind white bearded face.

“Students,” he started. “We are pleased to have all of our new sorted bright witches and wizards. Another wonderful year of learning and excitement! However, we always prioritize your safety, so please, don’t go near the forbidden forest, as the name states, it is forbidden.” I knew I wanted to visit that place now.

“But enough. Time to feast!” He put his hands in the air, and dishes upon dishes appeared on the table. I looked at the goblet in front of me, noticing it was empty. An upperclassman helped me.

“You just tell it what you want to drink, and it appears. Like this. Pumpkin juice.” She said to her goblet and an orange juice filled it up. She nodded for me to try. “White grape juice.” I said and the goblet filled. I took a sip. It was the greatest grape juice I had ever had. I think I must’ve finished it in a few sips. I ate my fair share of food. I had a few rolls, some turkey, and a lot of potatoes. Mashed, baked, fried. I love potatoes. I saw soup, so I immediately had some. I loved soup, still do.

I looked up and saw Scorpius staring at me from across the hall. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I was glad I had a friend in this new place. I stood up from my table, excusing myself from the companions I had made. I walked over to Scorpius’ table and sat next to him. An older student looked at me. “You shouldn’t be sitting here.”

I barked back a response. “I think that would be segregation, so I think you should shut your pie hole and mind your own.” The upperclassman did not like that. However, he did shut his mouth.

“Woah.. that was tough.” Scorpius said as he looked at me. I smiled at him.

“I don’t take anything from anyone. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“I think it’s a blessing. I could never do that. It’s amazing! Wait, no. It is truly a blessing!” Scorpius smiled at me, his grin wide. His grin was amazing. Wait, no. Nevermind.

Dormroom with stupid roommates
After the feast, our prefects took us to our dorm room. I was assigned to a room with three beds, a large circle window with a reading spot, three dressers, and three desks. I liked the window seat. I took my suitcase and started unpacking. I was roommates with other first years. Great, surrounded by idiots. As I started organizing my clothes, my roommates decided to bombard me.

“Is it true you’re related to Harry Potter? How’d you get that scar? Voldemort? Is Harry kind? Smart? Handsome?” I slammed the dresser shut, turning around to face the other two girls. “Can you please shut up? You can ask Harry in two years when it’s his first year at Hogwarts. Leave me alone.” I was not kind to them. Why should I have been? They were bloody annoying me. They called a house meeting in the common room, but I didn’t bother to go. It was probably some stupid pep rally thing. I sat on my bed, looking at my wand. I chose the bed closest to the door. Despite it being a few months, it still confused me that I was magical. I had been lied to my entire life, about everything. My parent’s death, my scar, my history.

This made me wonder just how much more I was lied to about. It was too late to go to the library to study, although I doubt that there would be anything written about it. I would try the next day.


Greasy hair and Potions

After I ate breakfast it was time for my first class of the day. I checked my schedule. Potions. Alright, let's head down there. As I walked down, I had to swerve around other students who couldn’t bother to watch their surroundings. I entered the classroom, a moldy room in the dungeons. It was dark and depressing. I had class with the Hufflepuff students. I made my way to an open seat next to a student in the golden robes. I didn’t bother making an introduction. This girl however made her introduction. “I guess we’re partners now! I’m Gessica. With a G, not J. Gessica Duman.” Great, someone with an odd name. I’d never remember that. “I’m Penelope. Spelled normally.” I responded. If I sounded rude, I apologize. The badger girl giggled. “I like you. You’re silly.”

I did not want to be known as silly. I guess I would have to deal with it. As I opened my mouth to speak I felt someone behind me. I turned my head and behind me stood who I assumed was the professor. He was tall, wearing all black robes. His hair looked like he used pig fat as hair gel, causing a greasy appearance.

“I would suggest you two girls stop talking before I remove points.” The monochrome voice was giving creepy vibes. The girl beside me, Gessica, nodded. I just shrugged. Like, alright dude. He walked to the front of the class, gathering everyone's attention.
“There will be no fooling around in my classroom. Potions is an art. It can teach you to brew fame, luck, and even put a stop on death.” He must’ve had this memorized. “Tell me, Mrs. Potter,” who, me? I didn’t need to be called on. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Why the hell would I know this?

“Well, Sir, I wouldn’t know. This is our first day of class and you expect me to know an answer to something that is clearly above my knowledge level?” I answered. This teacher clearly already had a dislike towards me. He just turned on his heel as he mumbled. “Five points from Ravenclaw.”