The Dursley's had the oddest garden in the entire neighbourhood, it was beautiful no doubt. Wild creepers on the walls and flowers the size of your palms grew uninhibited. And if a botanist ever passed that way he would have been taken aback because quite a few of those plants weren't even native to that habitat.
Not that Petunia Dursley didn't spend hours pruning and spraying in hopes that the garden would look more 'normal', not that it ever did. But that is not where our story starts, our story starts when Petunia Dursley was a happy housewife who had a loving husband and their baby boy had just turned one. And what Petunia loved the most was the fact that their little boy had her hair and smile.
Her life was far from perfect, there were always cobwebs to clean and baby Dudley wailed if he didn't get the things he liked, and the little tyke was loud enough to wake grandpa from his comely grave and Petunia liked to worry. Not that she and Vernon ever talked about 'it' but she worried nevertheless. Her horrid little sister with her wild red hair and ma..
The loud cry interrupted her musings as she saw that little Dudley had upturned his bowl of pureed peas, the boy hated it like no tomorrow and looked at her defiantly. Petunia couldn't help the smile that tugged her lips as she cleaned up the peas. Mornings had been the busiest for Petunia Dursley as she bustled around the kitchen preparing breakfast before her husband woke up.
It was almost sudden that the urge to open the front door striked it, it was unnerving really. And if Petunia Dursley hadn't been all that preoccupied that early morning she would have spend nights worrying over it.
Petunia switched off the stove and opened the front door and saw that there was a bundle of blue and a letter placed on top of it.
She stood frozen on the door stop, shock and horror coursing through her veins, the letter was written in green ink (the nerve of them) as the baby. The baby wrapped up in blue that opened its vivid green and stared at Petunia.
If the neighbour's weren't up Petunia would have screamed.
The sharp knocking at the stairs is what woke Harry up, and for a moment longer she wanted to hold on. The bright colourful glow behind her closed eyelids, and for a brief moment of wakefulness she could have sworn that the room was glowing as well, with the tiny colourful lights in her dreams.
There is always a moment in childhood that makes us adults, that moment for Harriet was when she was 6 years old, a day when the weather was unusually chilly. Blowing warmth into her unusually chilly hands she looked at her Aunt Petunia who was too busy smoothening down Dudley's hair to notice her.
She could feel Uncle Vernon's eyes on her, as she tried to stop her teeth from chattering. A few more seconds in the bitter cold before she realized that no one was going to hand her an extra blanket, and no one was going to share it with her.
It wasn't a sudden realisation; the Dursley's had never pretended to love her and yet that night when she cried herself to sleep she realised that there was no one to rescue her. And young Harriet Potter beneath the threadbare sheets realized how very alone she was.
"good morning aunt Petunia" she mumbled as she made her way towards the stove, the bacon was already burning by the time she reached the stove, but would undoubtedly be blamed for that.
"Comb your hair" Uncle Vernon barked out instead of a good morning as his eyes landed on Harriet.
Harry promptly set about frying the mountain loads of bacon that the Dursleys evidently consumed, her mind still filled with dreams of the night before.
Yet when Vernon Dursley's suspicious eyes slid away from her form she eyed the flames until they flicked and turned green. The Dursley's may hate her 'unnaturalness' they still had their breakfasts prepared the 'unnatural' way.
"Delicious" Vernon Dursley said to his wife and Harry discreetly smirked into her palms.