I shifted in my seat, staring out the window at the heavy British downpour that perfectly matched my love for the rain, while the hum of the mini-bus engine blended with the music playing softly in my headphones. As Harry Potter’s younger sister, I was used to chaos, but packing fifteen chaotic adults and my three-year-old daughter, Amelia, into a single vehicle for a 14-hour road trip to Plymouth was a brand-new level of madness. The air inside was a wild mix of overlapping voices: Ron and Ginny arguing over snacks, Hermione trying to map out our holiday itinerary, Fred and George whispering over some new prank, and Zoe—the resident "pick-me" girl—loudly giggling and giggling to attract the attention of Mattheo Riddle, Enzo, Blaise, and Theo Nott. Meanwhile, Cho Chang, Lavender, and Luna Lovegood were deeply engrossed in a debate about magical travel safety. I tried to tune them out, humming a French melody under my breath—a nod to my half-French heritage—while keeping an eye on little Amelia, who was happily snoozing in her car seat. My attention kept drifting back to Draco Malfoy, who was sitting right next to me; every time our shoulders brushed or we shared a quiet, sarcastic glance over the surrounding madness, I could feel my brother Harry’s burning stare from three rows back, his face a mask of pure annoyance at our seating arrangement.

ST

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Published 2 months ago