Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys has woken up to find their niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun still rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the big brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night Mr Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. But there were also a photograph of a girl, with messy black hair, grinning widely as she rode her own bicycle.

At that very moment, Harriet Potter was asleep, but not for much longer.

"Harriet!"

Harriet woke up, ignoring her aunt and rolling over.

"Harriet, wake up!"

She huffed as she rolled over once again, pulling the covers over her head to block out that damn annoying bright Sunday morning sunlight.

"HARRIET, FOR GOODNESS SAKE CHILD, WAKE UP!"

Rolling over once more, she fell to the floor with a thud.

"Ow!"

"That's what you get, you lazy girl," her aunt said affectionately as she stood at the door, "Now come on, do the bacon for your aunt. Heaven knows I'll burn it and ruin Duddy-kins' birthday."

Harriet rolled her eyes, but answered, "Yes, Aunt Petunia. I'll do the bacon so we won't ruin… Duddy-kins' birthday. Just give me a couple of minutes."

She got off the floor and piled her covers onto the bed again before making her bed neat.

Harriet showered quickly and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She shuddered a bit- it was slightly cold, even for a summer morning. She threw on a thin blue sweater that was once Aunt Petunia's and trudged down the stairs, comforting herself with the thought that the next day she would spend a nice long time in the bath, flourishing in the amount of the Dursleys' money she was wasting.

As usual, the table was piled high with Dudley's presents. It looked like Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, along with the second television and the racing bike. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery, as Dudley was fat and hated exercise.

Aunt Petunia had already made some toast and baked beans (the only thing that she could cook brilliantly) but Harriet was left to do the bacon and the eggs. Harriet started frying the bacon. She made sure to pile Dudley's plate full of bacon, giving everyone else much less.

She fried the bacon and then made the eggs- four sunny side up fried eggs, and four scrambled eggs. They had always argued over which was better, Dudley and Uncle Vernon preferring fried eggs while Harriet and Aunt Petunia liking scrambled eggs better. "It's an Evans trait," Aunt Petunia had quickly pronounced.

After cooking the food, she somehow managed to set it all out onto the table, piling and stacking the presents even more.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harriet sat down to eat.

"Care to say why you've given me…" Uncle Vernon looked down, "half as much bacon as I want?" He looked back up at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's Dudley's birthday." Harriet said, "Therefore half the bacon must be his."

Uncle Vernon shrugged and started on his food. "Mind you, you'd better make this up on my birthday, brat."

Just as Harriet started on her eggs, Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and a thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.

"Happy birthday, darling cousin Dudley," Harriet said as he sat down.

"Happy birthday, darling cousin Harriet," Dudley replied. Harriet rolled her eyes.

"My birthday's not for another month, silly. And I've told you only about a hundred dozen times - it's Harry. Harriet is a right snuffy name."

Dudley shrugged as he started on his food. "Alright then, Harriet, happy early birthday," he said around a mouthful of food. Harriet wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Ah, but Harriet is a good old name," said Aunt Petunia, "Far more appropriate for a girl than…" her face twisted, "Harry."

Harriet rolled her eyes, and finished her food and washed her plate before returning to the table, where Dudley had finished his food and was now counting presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father, "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Aunt Marge's present, see, it's under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"Alright, thirty-seven, then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harriet, who could sense a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, hurriedly said she needed to start her maths homework before darting up the stairs. She heard her aunt promising Dudley another two presents as she shut the door to her bedroom.

Sighing, Harriet sat down. How lucky Dudley was, to get thirty-nine presents. Harriet wondered if she'd get that many in her life. Well, perhaps Dudley wasn't so lucky. He was getting spoiled and spoiled people were rude and arrogant and thought they should always get what they wanted.

Her aunt and uncle didn't shower her with love, but they did like her… at least, her aunt did… sort of… although that was more due to her resentment for dear Lily Potter. They treated her like she was a temporary guest, because, well, she was. Once she hit 18 she was getting out of here and never looking back - okay, maybe once or twice, Christmas cards and whatnot - but it was all in the thought, of course.

Harriet was perfectly fine with that. Definitely. And was not bitter about her parents abandoning her in the slightest.

Ever since she was young, her aunt had made it known that her parents didn't want her, which was why they sent her to live with them.

"They left you on our doorstep," she would say, her face twisting with anger, "On the first of November. They didn't want you, they said. They needed to take care of your brother, and you were simply… in the way."

Harriet figured that her brother was probably spoiled too.

It seemed even the slightest mention of her parents was enough to make Uncle Vernon's face turn red, and Aunt Petunia give a disdainful sniff. Even Dudley knew something about what was going on, too, because every time the topic was brought up he'd tell Harriet she was way better than those folks anyways, which wasn't saying much, because Dudley treated her like one would treat weeds growing in their backyard, which is to say that he didn't like her very much, but couldn't be bothered to get rid of her.

She lay down flat on her bed and gazed up at her room. The furniture, floor, and door were all whitewashed. The walls were a light blue-grey colour, the same as the covers on her bed and the curtains. The lamps, when lit, glowed a warm yellow colour, and Harriet quite liked her room.

It was comfy, somewhere she wouldn't mind staying temporarily, for a holiday, but it was never quite hers. It was never quite home.

"Harriet?" her aunt called, "We're going to the zoo. You'll be with Mrs. Figg. If you like you can deliver the cupcakes and cookies and other treats today. You can keep all the money."

Harriet sat up. "All of it? Not 50 or 60 or 70 percent?"

"Yes, all of it. You'll need it soon."

Later, Harriet would fine out why she would be needing the money. But for now, Harriet felt rather blessed as she jumped off her bed and flung open the door, smiling brilliantly at her aunt. "Thank you!"

Aunt Petunia rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, you're the baker and the delivery service, so it's only fair."

Harriet ran a bake sale delivery service in the neighbourhood - which may or may not be legal. Every year she made a little over 200 pounds from it. So far she had made over 800 pounds from it, and after the deliveries today, she would have 20 pounds more.

Harriet piled all the treats into the basket of her rickety old bicycle, waving at her aunt hurriedly before going off to Mrs. Figg's to drop off her bag.

"Any chance you might be able to sneak a treat in for your old babysitter?" Mrs. Figg said. Harriet rolled her eyes. "Of course, Mrs. Figg. Look, I brought you a cake." She handed the old woman a slice of mossy green cake.

Mrs. Figg lifted an eyebrow. "Green?"

"I've been experimenting with food dye." Harriet shrugged, "It's just the colour."

Mrs. Figg thanked her for the cake, and Harriet left on her bike to make her deliveries. What Mrs. Figg didn't know was that Harriet had actually give her one of her more… dated products. So the cake wasn't actually dyed… Harriet didn't have the money to waste on that sort of thing.

Harriet's Bake Sale Delivery Service had been running for only four years, ever since Harriet was able to bake. It was her pride and joy, and while her aunt helped her with it when she was younger, she had started to take control of it for herself. Older exchanges were recorded by in her aunt's thin cursive in a large accounting book, but more recent entries were written down in Harriet's neatest print.

Half an hour later, Harriet thanked Denise Finch and her little sister Abby, who had given her a pound of their allowance in exchange for a few chocolate chip cookies.

Clutching the money in her hand, Harriet rode back to Mrs. Figg's.

"How much did you make this time, dearie?" Mrs. Figg called as she entered the living room.

"23 pounds!" Harriet said excitedly, "Well, half of it was from Miss Wendy, and you know she loves my chocolate cupcakes."

The rest of the afternoon was spent curled up on the couch in front of the TV, watching Tom and Jerry. When it was time to go, Mrs Figg gave her five pounds for the cake and sent her off.

"Bye Mrs. Figg!" she called, "See you later!"

When she got back to number four, her aunt was already washing the dishes.

"There's a rather large slice of meat pie on the table," said Aunt Petunia, "Along with a bit of catsup."

"You didn't make it, I suppose?" Harriet said cheekily.

"No, I did not. We brought it from the restaurant at the zoo."

Harriet ate the meat pie quickly before speaking. "I'm going to my room, Aunt Petunia, do you mind if I have an ice lolly? There are a few in the freezer."

Aunt Petunia shrugged. "Go ahead." She walked off to the living room.

Harriet collected the ice lolly from the freezer and retreated to her bedroom. She deposited the money into her piggy bank. She now had roughly 860 pounds from delivering things. That was a lot for a child to have, but her aunt had never let her use it, insisting that she'd "need it". Harriet had shrugged before walking off. She'd learned not to question her aunt's motives, or to disobey her - Aunt Petunia's wrath was something to be feared.

After finishing the sweet, Harriet washed up and went to bed. She smiled as she went to sleep. It had been a good day.

School was let out about a week after Dudley's birthday, and Harriet spent more time doing chores and baking. She visited Mrs Figg every Tuesday and Thursday, each time with a new creation for her to try, none as old as the green cake. She made a batch of cookies and sold them all to the Finches.

Harriet rolled up to Mrs. Figg's home on her bike. She left it out on the doorstep, knocking hurriedly before entering.

Mrs. Figg was crouched by the fire. "What are you doing, Mrs. Figg?" Harriet asked.

Mrs. Figg smiled uncertainly. "Oh, just putting out the fire. It was a bit too hot."

Harriet stared at her. "We're in the middle of summer," she said with an incredulity saturating her voice.

"Anyways, what have you got for me?" Mrs. Figg asked her.

"Here we have a apple and cinnamon muffin, with a little caramel," she handed it to Mrs. Figg, who took one bite and declared it delicious.

Harriet made her way out the door. She tried lifting the stand on her bicycle, but found that she couldn't, it was stuck. As she bent down to fix it, she heard Mrs. Figg talk to someone.

"Oh, that was young Harriet. She came with a muffin. It was quite good. Would you like some, Albus?"

Harriet wondered why Mrs. Figg was hiding people in her house, but then decided it was none of business, really, and rode back to number four, being careful not to veer too much to the right, lest the bike stand touch the ground and force her to stop.

When she got back to number four, she left her bicycle next to the car and entered the home. "I'm back!"

Aunt Petunia popped her head out of the kitchen. "Ah, yes, how was the muffin today?"

"I believe Mrs. Figg's exact words were 'the Queen of muffins'," Harriet grinned, "I have a few left, would you like one, Aunt Petunia?"

"Of course, of course," her aunt looked slightly worried, "I would like to talk to you about something. I'll be in the sitting room when you're ready."

Harriet watched nervously as her aunt walked out of the kitchen. She took two muffins out of her backpacks and stood in the kitchen, stalling for as long as possible.

What did she want to talk to her about? Surely it wasn't… puberty?

Harriet shuddered and shook the dreadful thought from her mind. It was something else. It had to be.

Clutching the muffins, she entered the living room. She handed her aunt a muffin, keeping the other for herself. She nibbled on it as she sat on the squishy armchair.

"You see," Aunt Petunia said, "when your mother was your age, she received a letter on her birthday."

Oh dear. This really was not going the way Harriet was expecting it to. Well, at least it wasn't about… puberty. Better to listen to her mother's chain mail story.

Aunt Petunia, unaware of Harriet's thoughts, continued. "It was delivered by a stern woman in rectangular glasses. It invited her to go to a school, of which the woman was a professor. I am certain you will get this letter too."

"Okay," Harriet said uncertainly, "So?"

"The thing is, that this school was not a regular school. It didn't teach you maths and science and English. It taught you…"

Harriet paused, leaning forward, breath held in an infinite moment.

"…magic."

Harriet choked on her muffin and started coughing. After 15 seconds of this, Petunia fetched her a glass of water, and she stopped coughing.

"Thanks," she mumbled, "Magic?"

Aunt Petunia nodded. "Magic, indeed. I can't explain it to you, because I don't have it myself. But on your birthday someone will likely come and explain magic to you, and bring you for school shopping, should you choose to go."

"But… I don't have enough money to pay for tuition," Harriet said.

"Fortunately, this school is government funded, therefore you do not need to pay anything. However, you will need pay for school supplies, which is why I insisted you not spend your money from baking on silly things like sweets."

"Oh," Harriet said, feeling rather dumb, "How do you know I have magic?"

Aunt Petunia rolled her eyes. "Have you seen yourself, Harriet? Do you remember when Reginald Thoms blamed you for putting a whoopee cushion on Miss Dwayne's cushion, and she believed him? Remember what happened to Miss Dwayne?"

Harriet thought, a dawning realization coming upon her. "Her wig… turned pink!"

"Yes, it did, and you know why? Because you were upset at her."

"And the squash-coloured sweater!"

"Yes, that too."

"And the time that we were going to go bowling but then George McFrey broke my foot with a bowling ball and then it healed?"

"Mmhmm."

"And the time we had your potato leek soup and it tasted so bad-"

"Yes, Harriet, I remember, it turned into mashed potatoes with a side of leeks," Aunt Petunia said, "Anyways, now that we've established that you are, indeed, magical, we have your parents and brother to talk about."

"They're magic too?"

"Yes, they are. Well… the thing is that a couple of years before you were born, while your parents were finishing school, there was a dark lord on the rise. He wanted to kill all non-magicals and any of their magical children as well. He wanted to kill many full blooded magicals who accepted these people.

My sister was born into a non-magical family, therefore he wanted to kill her too. Her husband was a full blooded magical, but accepted her and married her, so he wanted to kill him too. Since you and your brother were their children, he wanted to kill you too.

He came to your home on Halloween night. He made your parents faint, or something, and then he reached you and your brother's nursery. He shot a 'killing curse' at your brother, and somehow it reflected and vanquished the dark lord.

The magicals dubbed him 'the Boy-Who-Lived' and your parents were so caught up in his fame that they didn't want to care for you, so they sent you to us."

Harriet was silent for the longest time. "Can I go?"

Aunt Petunia was slightly taken aback. "What?"

"To this school. This magical school."

"Of course, why else would I be telling you about it?"

Harriet built up her resolve, and her aunt recognized the look in her eyes. "I'll show them. I'll show them they were wrong to leave Harriet Potter in the dust."

Her aunt smiled. "And that, you will do," she said before lifting herself off the couch.

Once she reached the doorway, Aunt Petunia paused. "But before you do, make sure to do the dishes, Harriet?"

Hey! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm transferring some of my fics from AO3 to ffdotnet. The chapter title is in reference to Jon Cozart's "Harry Potter in 99 Seconds". I'd highly recommend you check it out!
This fic is a big, fat, parody of all the WBWL fics that exist here on , so it's much more appropriate to post it here rather than AO3. I'll be uploading the rest of the chapters one day at a time, but if you're too bothered by it just go read it on AO3, where it's updated up until where I've written.