Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. Same thing with Iron Fist. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.
A brief explanation of what we're getting into with this:
This story is about Holly Evans as told primarily through a magical journal given to her by Minerva McGonagall. Holly finds out about the lies that govern her life and takes control piece by part, because in the end Holly doesn't want to save the world. She wants to fix it.
Welcome to the Spiral. Things start small but build over time.
Holly Evans and the Spiral Path
Chapter 1: X-mas 1991
Why am I writing in this journal? I don't trust journals. Every story I've read that a journal was mentioned, it ended up in the hands of the enemy to be used for humiliation and even blackmail.
Alright, according to the note, this special journal should allow you, my long lost brother Harry Potter, to see what I write and get to know me. Hopefully that means the people keeping you in hiding will eventually allow us to meet. Professor McGonagall didn't say anything about it one way or the other.
My name is Holly Evans, but I've been called many names. My favorites are 'Spider Girl' and 'Freak', with an honorable mention for 'The Little Dung-eating Crow'. I am writing to you from Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry on Boxing Day, 1991. I'm a bit small for my age, especially compared to my friend Hermione. Her birthday is only a few days before mine (22nd September) and she's got about 5 inches on me. I have straight black hair which falls in my face a lot and green eyes, much like our Mum's according to Hagrid. He's really big, like 7 feet tall and wide, but he's kinda alright. He works as the groundskeeper here. Apparently he wishes he owned a dragon. (By the way, I don't actually eat dung, but I do like spiders)
I swear, the way I write you'd think I was a chatterbox but I normally don't talk much. I'll tell you what I know and hopefully it will help you understand.
Be glad you weren't left with the Dursleys. Mum's older sister Petunia lives in Surrey with her husband Vernon Dursley and their son Dudley. Petunia is really thin and has a sort of horse face, while Vernon and Dudley are just massive blobs. They hate me. They hate me more now that they have admitted that they knew I was to be a witch. They have been working to 'beat the freakishness out of me' since I can remember, but all that stopped when Professor McGonagall came to meet me at the end of July. Actually, it stopped a little before then, in May. I had gotten really mad at Dudley because he was beating up on Alison Gale for sharing her peanut butter sandwich with me. I just focused all that anger into my fist, like I saw in this comic book once, and I hit Dudley so hard he flew across the playground. His jaw was broken, so they took him to hospital. I fainted after punching him, but the nurse took care of me. The next day the Dursleys moved me from my much smaller space into Dudley's second bedroom where usually he kept his broken toys.
I was beginning to think maybe I was a hero, like in the comics. It would explain how I heal faster than other kids. I've had plenty of practice. Up until Prof. McG showed up I didn't know I was magical. Hell, I didn't know I was named Holly until I was six- up until then I was just 'Freak'. I might've found out earlier but it wasn't until Dudley went to school that other people knew I existed and they had me enrolled as well.
I was placed with the Dursleys shortly after our home was destroyed and Mum was killed. Apparently, it was important to hide you away for your safety, but no one in the magical world knew I existed either. As best as Hermione and I have figured out, you were born 10 months after I was- yeah 'Irish twins'. That no one heard about it means that Mum may have had me due to an indiscretion. In case you don't follow, it means she had a baby with someone other than her husband, your dad James Potter. Don't fret though. I don't hold it against you, or against her. Somehow, I know absolutely that Mum loved me. That's important. It has helped me survive for the last ten years. Whenever I was feeling hopeless or defeated, I remembered that Mum loved me. I was feeling a bit of that when I decked Dudley.
So anyway, that's why I don't talk much. Talking draws attention, which almost never helps me.
I have a few friends here at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger is the closest, then Ron Weasley. No wait. First there's Hedwig, my snowy owl. Hagrid bought her for me as my first real (though belated) birthday present when Prof. McG and I met him in Diagon Alley, the magical market in London. Since then, she's been my best bud. She spends a lot of time with me in the dorm, reading over my shoulder and making commentary. Snowy owls don't hoot- it's more a bunch of barks, clicks and snuffles, so Hedwig is quite the chatterbox.
I met Ron and his twin brothers Fred and George while on the train to Hogwarts. Ron's a redhead from a huge family of redheads. As the sixth boy in the family, he doesn't get much respect, but he seems to want to protect me for some reason, which is laughable as I will explain in a bit. I think he thinks of me like he does his little sister Ginny. Aside from protecting me and trying to copy homework from Hermione, he mostly eats and obsesses over Quidditch. It wasn't so bad until I was placed on the Gryffindor team as a Seeker. Now he bends my ear constantly about the sport. I've learned how to grunt periodically to keep up his rhythm. It forestalls unnecessary talking.
Hermione is my other close friend. She is the daughter of dentists, with bushy brown hair. We live in the same room as two other Gryffindor girls, but we each had kept to ourselves at first. I don't know if you saw the Prophet article about the Troll at Hogwarts this past Halloween, but that was how I made actual friends with Hermione.
Ron was being a prat. He wasn't getting the levitation charm right and challenged Hermione to do it, which she did immediately. Hermione is brilliantly smart which annoyed Ron. Later I found out when we were at the feast that he said something cruel about her being friendless for her smarts and that she had holed up in a loo somewhere crying her eyes out over it. I grabbed Ron and dragged him there, hoping to make him apologise.
We didn't realise there was a troll around until we were in the loo with Hermione and the thing started to stink up the place. We all had to duck for cover when it swung this tree trunk of a club, smashing apart two of the privy stalls. Ron tried to be heroic and jumped on its back, sticking his wand up its nose. The troll tossed him out through the door into the hall. Ron's protective instincts are likely to end him quickly.
Anyway, Hermione used that levitation charm on the trolls club, while I had the inspiration to grab a broken slat of the stall door and transfigure it into steel, like our matchstick to needles exercise. When the troll swung his now empty fist at me, I shoved the metal shard into his neck. I think I used some of my 'Iron Fist' technique to get the point through its hide. Hermione dropped the club onto its head, which drove the shard the rest of the way through. I had sliced my hand open on the splinters from the shard and the troll had spilled out blood and guts all over me as it collapsed. I must have been quite the sight.
I'll never forget this part: Hermione then said kinda shakily "It's a good thing we're in a loo". When I asked why, she responded by running into the last intact toilet and heaving. I couldn't stop laughing. Here we are surrounded by wreckage, blood and troll goo and she makes sure to use a toilet. I laughed even louder when she flopped over to sit on the floor and said "I suppose you think I shouldn't bother to flush?"
I don't think the professors appreciate my humor. They all looked quite aghast.
Christmas was interesting. I haven't had much for gifts before, and this time I got five interesting ones. The first was this journal and a letter from Prof. McG telling me about my relation to you. It isn't widely known that Holly Evans is the daughter of Lily Evans, mother to the Boy-Who-Lived. That may come out soon, so it makes sense that she would let me know before the press gets it. I'm not sure she knew before now. I think the headmaster knew, and I think that Professor Snape suspects. He's the potions professor and head of Slytherin house. As such, he is on a mission to destroy Gryffindors, but in general he just avoids looking at me, like I shouldn't exist. It's a familiar feeling for me so I let him be.
The second interesting gift was from Hermione. She left me her copies of Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells for years 2 through 7. Apparently she's already read through them, as she was told about magic almost a year before she came to Hogwarts, on her 11th birthday. No wonder she is always so prepped. Of course, if she ran out of books she would memorise ingredient lists so it probably didn't change much for her grades.
The third interesting gift was a wooden flute from Hagrid. I started practicing on it today. Hedwig's helping.
The fourth interesting gift was from my Aunt Petunia of all people. She sent me two sex education books and the illustrated Kama Sutra. I would have taken this as some sort of attempt to fulfill her mothering duties, but she removed the appendix on birth control in the main volume. Silly bint forgot it was referenced in the index.
The last and most interesting gift was sent anonymously. It is an invisibility cloak, which is apparently really rare. The attached note indicated that it was an heirloom, so the person holding it had felt compelled to return it to the family. Since it's magic, I doubt that it would be an Evans heirloom. Maybe they couldn't get it to you so they gave it to me. I'll give it back when we finally meet.
Late last night I went out around the castle in the cloak, trying to see how well I could avoid the spiteful caretaker Mr. Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris. I ended up in an unused classroom and found this enchanted mirror there. When I looked at it, the image changed from it just being my head floating there (I still had the cloak mostly on) to a shadowy vision. This 'Mirror of Erised' apparently shows you your heart's deepest desire. The headmaster explained this as he appeared behind me. When I looked back, the image had changed- I could see me, standing next to you, I assume, with both of us standing in front of Mum. You were a little taller than me, wearing glasses, with shorter black hair and the same green eyes and the same lightning bolt scar on our forehead. Most folks don't see mine as I cut my fringe to cover it. I don't know if that's what you look like, but when I think of you, that is what I'll imagine.
The headmaster then went off on how we must not let our dreams prevent us from living our lives, and told me to not look for the mirror again. He's a creepy old man, and I think he was following me. I guess the cloak isn't invisible to everyone.
Oh, I forgot to mention. the first vision I saw in the mirror was of an adult me, but made of silvery steel and standing like a superhero, my robes flapping in the wind. I was holding three dog leashes made of chains that trailed down behind me to where the Dursleys were cowering, their faces full of shame and regret, dressed in rags.
I'm going to stop writing now, as I am getting a headache. I have been getting them since the welcoming feast, and it was worse after our Quidditch practices. The worst was the game. I almost passed out towards the end of the match, and ended up catching the snitch in my mouth. It hasn't been so bad since classes ended, and I only got a twinge of it when I was looking into the Mirror...
I'm an idiot.
I need glasses.