Star and Lightning

1st Chapter - Prologue

In the ruin of an old factory in a dark and run-down part of London a group of youths lay sound asleep, all expect one. It was a warm summer night, therefore they were only covered in light papers. Most of them were runaways who had fled from abusive parents, unloving families or hopeless futures. Some had never had the chance of knowing their parents, like the girl that lay awake in a corner of the great hall. She looked up at the ceiling that had a big hole in it through which you could see the night sky. The girl was thin and small for her age, she was about 15 or 16 years old. Long light-brown hair curled around her and her eyes were of a very dark brown, almost black. But the most remarkable thing about her was a star-shaped scar on her forehead. It had been there before she came to live on the street when she had been only a little more than a year old. As she didn't know her real name, everybody just called her "Starlett" because of that scar. Zaza, the woman who had found her and was like a mother to her, suspected she might be born to a sect or something like that, because that scar didn't look like a natural one.

When some of the others moved in their sleep, Starlet turned her head to look towards them. When nobody awoke, she moved into a sitting position, chin resting on her knees, and looked straight at the grubby floor in front of her. While she was thinking, silent tears were streaming down her cheeks. She desperately missed the life she had never had. Although she would never admit it to the rest of the gang, she missed a family and a home and she missed going to school and learning. Her hunger for knowledge was unquenchable but it just wasn't possible for a street kid to attend school. Of course, she could have gone to the youth welfare department, but more than everything she loved her freedom and was afraid it might be taken. She had taught herself how to read and now used every possibility to get into the library or to steal books from bookstores. But there wasn't much time for reading and the little she got to know from the books was unstructured and disordered because she didn't know how to choose the books she read and chose them sort of randomely. Besides, her day was usually quite busy with procuring enough food and new clothes, although Starlett's special ability made things much easier. Starlett could make things happen. She had first realised those faculties five years ago. Before, she had done them instinctively, from then on she began training them consciously. After a lot of exercise she was now able to move things without touching them and to defend herself with lightning beams that had effects similar to high voltage. She was frantically looking for information on these gifts but had found nothing in the books she had read so far. In still nights like this one Starlett used to wonder wether there were other people who had this gift that was so much like magic and wether she'd ever meet somebody of those.

At the same time in a trim suburb of London, a boy with messy black hair and a scar in the form of a lightning bolt on his forehead sat on the window sill of his little room in Privet Drive. Harry Potter wasn't really seeing the sparkling stars on the dark sky. He was mourning the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, who had died only one month before. Sirius had been the closest person to a father he had ever had. Now he lived with his aunt and uncle again who didn't care wether he was miserable and drowning in grief. His friends wrote him often but he rarely read their letters and when he did, their friendly written words didn't reach him.When he heard the old grandfatherclock from the Dursley's living room strike 12, a sad smile appeared on his face. It was early morning of the 31st of July, his Birthday. He was 16 now.

Just then, four owls reached his window. They must have been waiting in the trees nearby until it was midnight. Harry recognised one of them as his own owl Hedwig, that he had sent to Hermione, and another one as Pig, Ron's owl. Although he wasn't in the mood for a birthday celebration, he was curious what his friends had sent him. First, he turned to Hedwig and untied the parcel from her leg. Hermione had sent him a book about Parseltongue and a letter with the usual blah-blah. Harry quickly scanned the book's table of content and flicked through the pages, then decided it might be a very interesting and useful book he should read later. Then he put it aside and opened the present from Ron. Ron had gotten him a pack of joke articles from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, his brothers' joke article shop, and some candies. The third owl came from Remus Lupin. He had sent a birthday cake, that was bewitched to change color, and a birthday card where all members of the Order of Phoenix, Harry knew, had signed. Harry put the card on his desk and looked at the last owl. He had no idea who else would send him something for his birthday. The great brown owl tilted its head to the side and watched him with its big, yellow eyes. Then it jumped forward and gave him its foot so he could easily untie the letter it had brought. The address was written in golden ink in a handwritig, that seemed familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place it. When he opened it, a magical photograph fell out and he saw that the letter was from Albus Dumbledore. Harry snorted. The old headmaster had lost his trust for not telling him of the prophecy. Harry wanted to put the letter away without reading it, but hesitated when his eyes were caught by the picture that had fallen to the floor. It showed the familiar laughing faces of his parents but what puzzled him was, that they were holding two babies. One with green eyes, that probably was himself, and another one with dark brown eyes. Now curious, he took the letter hoping it would hold an explanation.

Dear Harry

Please receive my congratulations to your 16th birthday.

I'm sure you have already received a lot of condolences concerning your godfather's death and I already expressed my sorrow at the end of the last school year. Nevertheless, I want to repeat myself and offer my condolences . Don't blame yourself for his death. I am most sorry for what happened last year and I fear I have lost your trust. I learned that you are a reasonable young man who can be trusted with secret knowledge. I must admit that the prophecy was not the only secret kept from you.

When you take a look at the picture I sent you, you will see your parents holding two infants. You have never seen any pictures of the second child before because you shouldn't know about her. You are not an only child, Harry. You had a twin sister whose name was Elisha Potter. Unfortunately she did not survive Voldemort's attack.

I haven't told you about her before because, for you were already bearing the loss of your parents, you shouldn't know you had also lost a twinsister.

I'm not sure if it was wise to tell you of this loss now, but you deserve to know the truth.

Try to enjoy your birthday and the rest of your holidays. I will see you September 1st in Hogwarts. Your school letters and OWL-results schould arrive soon.

Yours sincerely

Albus Dumbledore

Harry lowered the letter and sank down on his bed. A twin sister. A sister, he had never gotten to know. Voldemort must have killed her before aiming the killing curse at him. If it had been the other way around, if his twin sister had survived, would they have come to the Dursleys together? Would she be going to Hogwarts with him? Would they both be grieving for Sirius now? Or could he even have saved Sirius with her help? If, only if. But she was dead, as were his parents and his godfather. Harry thought about being angry with Dumbledore for not telling him earlier, but then he realised how much that knowledge would have taken him down, how much it took him down now. Voldemort. It was all because of Voldemort. It was Voldemort who had taken his parents and his sister away, Voldemort who was responsible for Sirius' death and it was Voldemort and that damn prophecy that made his life miserable. With these thoughts, Harry curled into a ball on his bed without undressing and wept himself to sleep.