A squirrel quickly tore through the branches of a tree, an acorn clutched firmly in its mouth. Another, larger, squirrel chased after it, before lunging at it. In its fright the squirrel accidentally released the acorn and they both looked down in horror as it tumbled to the ground. They quickly sped away again as 'Oof' sprouted from what they had originally thought as empty ground. Of course, it was not so, as a girl, with long black hair and bangs completely covering her eyes and a bit of her upper cheek, lay on that particular portion. She turned her head to the side and brought her hand up to rub the spot where the acorn hit and shifted her bangs in the process. Bright green eyes with swimming flecks of red in it appeared along with a small sideways lightning shaped scar that rested just below her left eye. Her attention shifted from the bruise as squeals and giggles drifted over from the other side of the park where all the other kids were playing at the playground. A lonely sigh escaped her lips as she went back to staring up at the sky through the still leaves. She sorely wished that she could go join them but quickly dashed away the thought. No one would want a freak like her to play with them. Especially since they know that if they even do so much as talk to her they would get beat up by Dudley and his cronies. So, there she lay, ensconced by bushes and sweating lightly in the heat as she zoned out. It was because of that that she jolted in surprise when a letter flitted down from the tree and landed on her face. She glanced up after plucking the letter from off her nose and was surprised yet again as a regal brown owl hooted at her before taking off. It was with awe that she read the front of the letter:

Miss H. Evans

In The Bushes Under a Tree

Whinging Park

Little Whinging

Surrey

One of her eyebrows arched up further into her hair as she stared at the creepily accurate address of the letter. Not many people knew that she lay there under the tree, even if she was there every day. And who would even want to write to her anyway? Her curiosity peaked she sat up and a few moments of reading later she was throwing it away in disgust. It was obviously another on of Dudley's pranks. After all, there was no such thing as magic! She lay back down with a thump and watched as the leaves began to shift in a comforting wind. Soon enough her eyes began to drift shut as she began to dream.

It was a cold windless night and puddles littered the street and sidewalk in evidence of the earlier storm. Families that had huddled inside to nurse warm drinks had all fallen asleep by now, all except one house whose windows were the sole light left on number 4 Privet Drive, not even the streetlights were lit. Inside the cozy looking house there was a frigid silence as two couples stared at each other, a little baby gurgled with happiness as she was held in her mother's arms. If she had any idea what her parents were there to do that day then she would not have been smiling and waving her little fist jovially at them, but screaming her head off with big blubbering tears as her hands and legs kicked out at those near her. For this night was the night that Lily and James Potter had finally come to a decision about their youngest child ,Harriet, the twin of their son Connor, The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Petunia, I know we haven't talked in years but I promise, this will be the last thing I ask of you." Lily said, looking straight into her sister's eyes and biting her lip. "We just aren't in the position to take care of her at the moment. It's just to much for us to handle." Tears were welling up in the corner of her eyes and she looked anywhere but at the child in her arms. James wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him so that her head could rest against his shoulder.

Petunia looked down in disgust at the child in her sister's arm and stole a glance at her husband who had sat in stoic silence ever since her freak of a sister and her filthy husband had walked over their threshold. The silence stretched on until finally, James, who had been silently supportive this entire time, shifted forward to address the Dursleys.

"Of course, you won't be paying for all of her expenses yourself. We'll pay for her needs we just need someone to take care of her, spend time on her, and pay attention to her when she needs it. Everything we would be incapable of doing for her because of our...other...responsibilities." He glanced away at the last bit. He didn't want them to know about Harriet's twin. The baby had quieted down, as if catching on to what the discussion was about, and was now staring up at her mother whose eyes were looking everywhere but down at her. "We've also set up an account for her that will hold a bit of her inheritance. It's not much but it will be there to help her when she enters school and to help on her way after she is out of school. I made it so only she can get to it." Petunia narrowed her eyes at him. She had already told them that they wouldn't take the freak child but they just didn't seem to be getting it. They needed all their time for their son Dudley.

"Fine." Petunia let out a gasp and whipped her head to the side to look at her husband who now looked resolutely at James. "We'll take her."

"Vernon, dear, what are you..." Petunia began to ask, but was shushed by Vernon. He was still staring at James but motioned for Lily to give Petunia the child. Lily stood up quickly and placed Harriet in Petunia's waiting arms before scrambling back over to her husband.

"Now leave, I never want to see your faces again." Vernon grunted. Lily stood up with a nod and began to make her way to the door but before she went to far she seemed to remember something and turned to her husband. He gave her a small nod to show her that he understood and reached into his pocket. He brought out a small, bumpy envelope and handed it over to Petunia who snatched it away quickly.

"That note is for Harriet. It's spelled to go to her as soon as she is able to read and won't be able to be opened b anyone but her. Also, we'd rather not have her have the last name of Potter so we have decided that she can go by Lily's maiden name, Evans, if that's alright with you." Petunia didn't seem all that happy about the magic used on the note and was looking at it disdainfully but she gave him a curt nod and tucked the note into Harriet's blanket. The Potter's walked out of the house but the frigid silence remained until Petunia turned slowly to face her husband a question on her lips that was silenced by the greedy look that Vernon was directing at the baby. He looked up at her with a smile on his face and Petunia stared at him in confusion.

"Think of it Petunia," He began as an explanation, "They're giving us money for this child's expenses but that doesn't exactly mean that we have to spend any of it on her. If we take care of her to the minimum then we can use all the money on ourselves and Dudley. She doesn't even need to know that we get paid! We can tell her that we're paying for everything and make her work it off! We'll have our own little maid in this child. Not to mention that it's what those freaks deserve for just dropping in on us and deserting this god forsaken baby with us." She looked down at the child in her hands, a look of pity briefly flashing across her face before being replaced by a horse-like grin. She walked out of the sitting room and headed over to the cupboard under the stairs where they kept Dudley's old crib that he had grown out of long ago. She blew briefly on the small green crib to try and get rid of the dust, though it didn't work very well. She lay little Harriet down on the dusty mattress and retreated to the doorway.

"Goodnight." She sneered, taking hold of the door and slamming it-

Harri woke up with a jolt and air rushed through chattering teeth as she looked around at the empty park. It was sunset now and a chill had entered the air. Harri got up quickly and began to run, trying to reach number 4 Privet Drive as soon as she could. The Dursley's were always trying to find a reason to lock her out at night and her arriving late was one such reason. As she raced down the street any thought left over by the letter or her dream was thrown away, probably never to think of them again, unless brought up by another.