Amy Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone

Amy Harn is the twin sister of Harry Potter. Well, technically she is Amy Potter, but she was adopted, so her surname would be Harn, but she's still a Potter, 100%. She is almost more famous than her brother, Harry. She was the lost twin. The one they think died. But there are still wizards, such as Dumbledore, or even Snape, who think otherwise. Who KNOWS otherwise. And Amy will face challenges that not even Harry could imagine.


3. Two

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, 

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Harn,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later then July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress."

my voice rings out through the silent room, my emerald green eyes growing wider each word. My mouth gapes open, and I nervously smiles at my mum. Her hands are on her wide hips, and she stares at my foster dad, who's quite the opposite of her, cause he is tall and lanky.

"Phillip..." She starts, my dad nervously chuckling. I stare up at him.

"I'll umm, send the owl. Well have to go to Diagon alley, so you can have your school supplies."

Dad says, his eyes still nervous.

"Hmmmm, I think I still have some coins..." He runs up to his bedroom, five minutes later coming down with a small blue velvet pouch. Opening it up, I see it is filled with odd looking coins. "Knuts, Sickles, Galleons." He points out the coins, and I nod my head, my eyes still wide. "Who knows? Maybe I'll have enough to buy you and owl."

"An owl?" I ask, shocked.

"Or a cat, or a toad, or a rat. One of 'em SHOULD take your fancy." He replies. In shock, I sit down.

 Mum has just dropped the conversation, walking into the kitchen to start breakfast, her face still fuming from anger and bewilderment. My foster dad sits next to me, smiling.

"Amy, first we need to get you a wand before anything. After lunch, hopefully mummy has cooled down, so we can go to Diagon alley!"

I cringe, I have always hated my foster parents calling each other mummy, and daddy, like I'm 5 years old. But I go along with it.


"I don't have an owl, but I bet we can get you one. Would you like a pet?" Dad asks, obviously not put out from my cringe. I take advantage of his gleefulness, so I nod my head, fast enough that my long red hair starts to whip my back. 

"I want an owl!" I say, clasping my hands together.

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