“What a weirdo he is,� Tuney muttered in my ear, shooting a glare back at the greasy-haired boy who had told me I was a witch. A witch! He definitely was not normal, yet maybe that’s what intrigued me about him.

Slightly frightened by his stony gaze at my back, I whispered fearfully, “What do you think he meant by me being a witch?�

Tuney sniffed airily. “He probably just wanted to insult you. Doesn’t he look like the type to do that?� She kept walking, more rigid now, but didn’t look back again until we arrived at our front door.

He said it wasn’t a bad thing, though, I reflected, so he couldn’t have been insulting me. Puzzled, I followed my older sister into the kitchen, where Mummy was making scones.

Wiping her hands on her flowered apron, she asked, “How was the park, girls?�

I sat down at the kitchen table chair. “Good. Guess what? We—“

Tuney shot me a look, which I only knew too well meant to keep quiet. “We went on the swings. And Mummy,� she tugged on Mum’s apron, “Lily jumped off the swing again! I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen.�

“Tattle-tale!� I cried, pushing my chair back against the smooth floor. “You just don’t like how I can do things you can’t!� That must be it. She was always mocking my quirky habits, constantly wearing me down. Sniffling, I tore up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door.

It was a pity I shared a room with my sister and there was no lock on the door. Predictably, I could hear her quick footsteps as she approached bedroom.

Springing to the door, I pressed against it with my palms so she couldn’t come in. The doorknob turned from the other side and the door opened a crack, but I pushed harder and it closed again.

“Girls! Don’t let me catch you playing with the door again; I don’t want fingers jammed!� I heard Mummy reprimanding from the kitchen below, but I didn’t care. Tuney was being mean and cruel. With this thought, I pushed harder, and miraculously I felt the door give way with a crack and it was flung from its hinges into my sister.

I screamed in surprise and terror, rushing a few steps forward to pick my sister up from under the door. “Mummy!� I cried, but she was already pattering up the stairs to see what the big noise was.

Her face was struck with shock as her mind registered the door on the ground and me helping Tuney up. Both of us were wailing, though Tuney was the crybaby so she was crying harder than I was. I was mainly frightened about how I’d blasted the door towards her and I hoped she was okay and I hoped I wouldn’t get in too much trouble (though I instantly knew I would).

“Petunia! Are you all right, dear?� Mummy took Tuney from my grasp and held her gently close to her. I wish she would hug me too. Tuney just cried more. She would probably tell Mummy how bad a girl I was, and I would have to do her chores as well as mine for a whole week. “What happened?�

“I didn’t do it on purpose!� I jumped to defend myself; I could feel my voice shaking. “She was trying to get into the room and I was mad so I didn’t let her in, and then the door fell on her!�

Dad wasn’t home yet, or else Mum would have called him to fix the door. “Are you telling the truth, Lily?� Her eyes scanned my face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. She knew I was an honest child, though, and when I nodded, she understood.

Reaching out for me, she patted my shoulder. “You still need to apologize to your sister.�

I groaned audibly through the tears trickling down my face. “No! She started it!�

“You threw the door at me!� Tuney shot back, looking at me furiously.

I balled my hands into fists. “I wouldn’t have if you weren’t being an evil little tattle-tale!�

“Stop!� Mummy commanded, which silenced the both of us. “Lily, get me some ice for Petunia’s head. I’ll bring her down.� Gathering my older sister in her arms, Mum descended the stairs after me.

I was right. After a few moments of tending to my dear old sister, Mum doled out my tasks as punishment. I had to clean out the flowerbeds tomorrow—all of them, and sweep the floors! Dad came home in the late evening and fixed the door. He and Mummy sent me and Tuney upstairs to our rooms as they talked.

Tuney lay on her bed, holding a bad of ice to her swollen forehead. Her breathing was fast and her eyelids were shut. Suddenly I felt something that might have been remorse for hurting her so bad. She was my sister, after all, and being crushed by a door must have hurt.

Picking at my quilt, I mumbled, “Sorry for what I did, Tuney.�

She grunted in reply and turned on her side, her back towards me.

Biting my lip, I blinked back a few tears and chose instead to look out the window. I could see a little house down at Spinner’s End, and a shiver crawled up my back. There was something almost magical about what the Snape boy had said.

I couldn’t fall asleep that night; images of the strange boy kept floating into my head. What was a witch, exactly? From the books I read they were evil, hunchbacked old ladies who could do magic. There was nothing nice about that picture except the fact about their magical ability.

I sat up rigidly in bed. Was that it? Did that explain how I could do weird things no one else could? Memories flew past my eyes: the time when I hadn’t injured myself, even from falling off the top of the slide; making pimples appear on the bullies the day they tried to steal my lunch; the door coming off its hinges and onto Tuney—it all made sense.

Or did it?

Witches don’t actually exist, I told myself. I was eleven and too old for such fantasies. I twisted around to see the geranium on the windowsill. I stretched out my hand to it and the petals bent towards me. With an intake of breath, I withdrew my hand. How did I do what I did? The question crept back to me.

I lowered myself onto my bed again and pulled up my quilt, shivering with excitement and worry. The first day of summer holidays had been full of surprises. With that thought, I finally fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke to clattering from the kitchen; Mummy was clearly making breakfast. Looking over at Tuney’s half of the room, I saw that she was still fast asleep. In her sleep she had turned about and now she was facing me. There was an angry goose egg on her forehead and guilt formed in the bottom of my stomach.

Tiptoeing out of the room, I crept down the stairs and sat down at the table, where Mum placed a stack of toast and some kippers in front of me. “Good morning, Lily.�

“Morning,� I replied half-heartedly, picking up a slice of toast.

“Eat a good breakfast. You can sweep the floor this morning and after lunch you can work on the flowerbeds,� she told me.

Nodding, I took a sip of milk. “What did you and Dad talk about yesterday?�

Worry crossed Mummy’s pretty face. “Just about what happened and how you managed to unhinge that door.� She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but didn’t continue. Why did adults always do that?

I was about to tell her that maybe I was a witch, but I still wasn’t sure. Instead, I said nothing and finished my breakfast.

The morning passed slowly and by the time I’d started on the flowerbeds after lunch, the sun was burning hot. I liked gardening, but pulling weeds was treacherous. I was pulling up a very big one when footsteps caused me to look up.

It was him again. Snape looked down at me with interest. “What are you doing?�

“What does it look like I’m doing?� I pulled on the weed harder and it broke out of the earth easily, to my surprise. My suspicions about him still had not wavered.

He sat down beside me, looking odd in his suit. “Why are you doing that?�

Should I tell him? I hesitated, but told him what happened the night before in hushed tones. When I finished, his black eyes widened. “I told you! You are a witch; there’s no mistaking that.�

I couldn’t help myself. “But what is a witch?�

“It means that you can do magic,� he explained, his voice soft and reverent. “You get a wand and you can make things fly and transform things. But those are only two things you can do. There’s a lot more.� His eyes scanned my face, making me feel a bit uncomfortable. “Mark my words; in a few weeks you’ll get your letter.�

And so our odd friendship—if one could call it that—started. He told me of magical things like a sport called Quidditch and Jellybeans that had all the flavors one could think of and making potions.

My hopes started to rise, but I knew what would happen if I told. Tuney would mock me even more, Mummy would laugh and tell me not to be so silly, and Dad would chuckle at my imagination. No one would believe me.

One night in mid-July, I was tempted to tell Tuney my suspicions. I couldn’t keep this bottled inside; she was who I always told, and she was usually okay at keeping secrets.

We were both in our beds trying to fall asleep when I piped up, “Tuney?�

“Mmm?� The rift we had before had passed and we were on speaking terms once more. Though we bickered often, we were close.

“I—I think…� my voice faltered.

“What?� she turned around to look at me, but I was gazing at the ceiling where a spider was spinning her web.

I couldn’t do it. “Nothing.�

“Okay.� She turned to look at the ceiling, too, and was silent. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. The word sounded hollow in my ears.

After a few minutes of quiet, she said, “You’re not good at lying at all.�

Heat crept to my cheeks and I pretended I didn’t hear her.

“What were you going to say?� she demanded louder, and I could hear the same bossiness in her voice that she adopted one time too many. When I refused to speak, she asked, “It’s about that Snape, isn’t it? You believe everything he says to you about magic.�

My breath caught in my throat. “No, I don’t.�

“Like I said, Lily, you’re a bad, bad, liar.� The triumph was clear in her voice. “You’re also stupid. There’s no such thing as magic.�

“There is too!� I felt suddenly defensive. “How can you explain the weird things I can do?�

“It’s easy,� she replied, pausing for effect. She knew I was hanging onto every word she spoke. “You’re a freak. You and that Snape boy and everyone who thinks they’re witches and wizards.�

Riled, I exploded, “Am not! You take that back, Tuney!� I jumped out of my bed and pulled her quilt off her, grabbing her teddy bear. “Take that back.�

“I won’t!� Tuney cried, pulling on the quilt. “You’re a freak and even you know it!� She lunged forward to grab her teddy, but I withdrew my arm.

Tears flowed down my cheeks now. “It’s not true; you’re just jealous that I’m a witch and you’re not!� My voice broke and I flung the teddy at her, running out of the room into my parents’ bedroom.

I lingered at their door, gulping down my sobs. They both looked so peaceful in the moonlight that I didn’t want to wake them with my news. Quietly walking towards Mummy, I bent down and stared at her tranquil face. The tears on my face dried and I sat down on the carpet. Exhausted, I fell asleep on the floor, trusting that tomorrow—maybe tomorrow—I would be able to convince them.