A/N: Well, this is basically the product of me wondering what the Harry Potter series would be like if Harry had been a girl. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this yet. I know that I'll be following the general plot of the books, but other than that, I'm open to suggestion.

No original characters will be introduced (unless you count Holly Potter/Danelea Dursley/female!Harry). Also, if you have any questions regarding the Dursley's treatment of Holly/Danelea, feel free to ask about it in a review. But, I plan on revealing why Petunia and Vernon didn't treat her like crap growing up later on, just as an fyi.

Please leave feedback. Positive or negative. Though if it's negative, let's keep it constructive (so I know what to fix!).

Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

My name is Danelea Dursley. I'm ten years old and perfectly ordinary.

My school marks are average (which is better than my brother – Dudley – can say). My looks are average (save for this rather annoying scar I have on my forehead). Even my house is average (though the stuff inside is ace – Dad's all about appearances).

Mum, Dad, and Dudley are more than happy being average. And I guess I am too. I've never really given it much thought. It's simply the way of things, I suppose.

I take after Mum more than Dad, though I do have his dark hair. But that's pretty much where the similarities end. Dad and Dudley both are blue-eyed and noticeably overweight. 'Dudders,' as Mum calls him, would likely be the size of a baby killer whale if I didn't drag his arse out with me to the football field for practice during the off-season. As if he'd let me go by myself anyway.

Dudley's a selfish, spoiled brat to everyone but me. Not that he's all sunshine and rainbows with me, but being his little sister does come with some perks. He pokes fun at me plenty (and I never fail to give him as good as I get), but I know he cares. He's just bollocks at showing it, is all.

But he's always been there for me in a pinch. Like that one time when Ian Pemberton made me cry on the playground. Dudley laid him out flat – and nearly broke his hand in the process. Got a week of suspension for it too. But Mum and Dad were so proud (and heck, so was I) that they just used it as an excuse for us to spend some time in London.

His twelfth birthday is coming up and I've no doubt Mum and Dad will be spoiling him rotten, as always. Last year's present tally was thirty-eight and I'm sure they'll have to hit forty this year to avoid one of his legendary temper tantrums. He really can be a jerk sometimes. I mean honestly, how many PlayStations does he need?

They tried the spoiling bit with me, but I don't have much of an interest in television or video games. So they settle for getting me season tickets to see my favorite football team (Chelsea), which admittedly is probably twice as expensive as all of Dudley's gifts combined. But we're content to leave him in the dark on that one.

My birthday's not too long after his. July 31st to be exact. And it's the first time I'm really not looking forward to it. Because after this year, Dudley and I will be going to different schools. He'll be off to Dad's alma matter – Smeltings – and I'll be headed to Mum's – Cheltenham. We might have our differences and disagreements, but he's my brother. It'll be odd not to see him everyday. Not to help him on his homework or laugh at his jokes (even the ones directed at me).

And I don't even want to think about what it'll be like to be so far from Mum and Dad. Honestly, I don't know how she's going to handle it. She can't even stand to have us go away for summer camp! And, tough of an act as Dad puts on, I know he'll miss us too. He thinks I don't know that he still peeks into my room at night (after he's "sure" I've gone to sleep).

So I'm a bit worried about turning eleven, you see. I'm not sure how they'll handle it, how I'll handle it, or what other kind of changes it might bring. And if there's one thing the Dursley family hates, it's change.

My name is Danelea Dursley. I'm ten years old and almost perfectly ordinary.

I was rifling through the attic yesterday and came across an old photo album. That in itself wasn't that odd because Mum is a horrendous pack rat. No, the odd bit was that I think Mum had a secret sister. Because there's this redhead with her and Grandma and Grandpa. And not in a best-friend type of way where the girl is in a couple photographs. No. This girl is in nearly every single photograph in the album. And she kinda looks like Mum.

But, what's really weird?

She kinda looks like me. As in more than kinda. As in, if I had red hair too, one might mistake us for twins. We have the same emerald green eyes (ones Mum swears I got from Grandpa). The same pale complexion. The same delicate nose. Even the same smile.

Forget weird. It's downright scary.

Not because I look like her. No, I could understand that. I mean, if she was Mum's sister, than it's not too strange that I look like her. We're related, after all.

No the scary part is that she's a younger version of the woman in my dreams.

Oh, did I forget to mention the dreams? The ones I've been having for as long as I can remember? The ones I still haven't plucked up the courage to tell Mum and Dad (or heck, even Dudley) about?

Yeah. In those dreams, this girl (well, she's actually a woman, but its definitely her) – she dies. There's a foreboding green light, a terrifying scream, and then a flash of her too-pale body crashing to the floor. I always wake up crying, my sweat-dampened sheets twisted around my shaking body. And the only thing I want is for Mum and Dad to hold me and chase the nightmares away. But I can't tell them. Because normal girls don't dream about dying people. Especially ones that might possibly be (okay, very probably are) related to their Mum.

So I ignore the dreams. Just like I'm going to ignore the redheaded girl in the photographs.

Because it's just not normal.

My name is Danelea Dursley. I'm ten years old and sort of ordinary.

Dudley's birthday was (for the most part) a non-event. He and Piers had a great time in typical Dudley fashion – mocking the other kids, tormenting the poor animals, and generally being a great git. But he's my brother and I love him. Like I said, he's not really that way with me and we've shared just about everything together.

But I can't share this.

Because while he, Mum, Dad, and Piers were busy admiring the more interesting exhibits in the reptile house, I was having a conversation with a python.

Let me say that again.

I was having a conversation with a python!

I'm going insane. I have to be. Because good, normal girls do not have conversations with snakes. And I, Danelea Dursley, am a good, normal girl.

Right?

Luckily, no one noticed the unusual occurrence. Nor has anyone noticed my abnormal behavior since then. At least the strange letters we've been receiving are good for something.

Yeah, did I mention the letters? Ones addressed to Holly Potter. Mum and Dad have been wrought with tension ever since they started arriving. Dad even snapped at me the other day for no good reason, which has never happened. Ever. Dad and Mum just don't get mad (well, at Dudley and I). I mean, Gawd Blimey, we're Darling Danni and Dinky Diddydums! Not that either of us would admit to those names in public.

He apologized immediately after, of course, and bought me a lovely silver locket to boot. But I know something's up. And I know it has to do with those letters. Letters that Mum and Dad refuse to let Dudley and I see.

Letters that, I'm quite sure, spell nothing but trouble.

My name is Danelea Dursley. I'm ten years old and am starting to doubt that I am ordinary.

When the letters stopped coming by post and started arriving by owl (yes, I said owl), everything went south. The owls wouldn't let Mum or Dad take the letters from their beaks. In fact, I was the only one they'd let near them. Except that I didn't want to go anywhere near them. And Mum and Dad wouldn't have let me anyway.

We tried ignoring the owls – and the stares from the neighbors – and that's when things really got bad. They letters began pouring in through the windows, the cracks under the doors, even the bloody chimney. Dad went completely mental (understandably so). What wasn't so understandable was him carting us all off to this island-shack in the middle of nowhere. And the day before my birthday, no less.

Mum barely had time to swing by the grocer's and grab a pre-baked cake (which she hates doing) on our way out of town. The car ride to the ferry was nearly unbearable, what with Dad's ranting, Mum's tearful exclamations, and Dudley's constant complaining. I stayed quiet in the backseat, contemplating just who this Holly Potter was. And wondering what right she had to ruin my impossibly ordinary family.

By the time my birthday rolled around, I was futilely trying to get some sleep on a lumpy fold out couch in the dampest, most bitterly cold shack on this side of the pond. Mum and Dad were resting on the only real bed in the hovel-like building. Dudley was snoring away on the floor, having offered me the couch. He claimed it was only on account of it being my birthday, but we both know the truth. The little bugger loves me, even if he's shite at admitting it.

The moment the clock turned to twelve and it officially became my eleventh birthday, my world went to hell.

A giant showed up at the door and started calling me Holly Potter. That's right, I said a giant. And for some reason, he was under the grand delusion that I was this Holly Potter chit.

"My name," I quickly corrected him, "is Danelea Dursley."

Mum and Dad quickly shoved Dudley and I behind them and Dad was brandishing a shotgun at the looming giant. He might as well of had a slingshot because the giant (who called himself Rubeus Hagrid – and what sort of name is that anyway?) twisted the shotgun barrel towards the ceiling.

My parents ushered Dudley and I even farther back, but I slipped out from behind and went to confront this Hagrid. I wouldn't let him hurt my family. Not if it was just me that he wanted.

"What do you want with me?" I asked, sounding much braver than I actually felt.

"To give you this," he said.

I stared at the letter he'd handed me in trepidation. Behind me, Mum and Dad were demanding I throw it into the fire. But I had an awful feeling that this Hagrid fellow wouldn't leave unless I opened it.

So I did.

And my very world fell out from under me.

Because apparently, I'm a witch. And apparently, my Mum and Dad are not my mum and dad. Hagrid was most upset when he found out about that particular lie and got into a huge row with my parents (no, my aunt and uncle) about it. No one noticed Dudley quietly make his way over to me, where I was sitting (nearly catatonic) on the couch.

"So," he whispered. "You're a witch."

I nodded silently, not knowing what to say.

"Well," he continued on, "do you want to be?"

I sat up at that, wondering. "Hagrid!" I called out, immediately putting an end to the fighting. "Can't I just… not be a witch? If I don't want to be?"

The giant's mouth fell open and he gaped at me like a fish. Mum and Dad looked simultaneously surprised and relieved.

"B-but," he stuttered, "you're the daughter of Lily and James Potter! Two of the best thumpin' good magic folk that Hogwarts has ever seen!"

"No," I argued, "I'm Danelea Dursley. And if my parents don't want me to be a witch, then I won't be a witch."

Mum squealed in delight and threw herself at me, wrapping me in her wiry arms and smothering me with affection. I smiled to myself and reveled in her embrace.

"They lied to you," Hagrid implored.

I shrugged. "But they love me," I said. "And they've raised me and cared for me and have been there for me. No one's perfect. Besides, its not like they kidnapped me or anything."

Dad skittered around the giant and was ruffling my hair. "That's my good Darling," he said, his voice laced with warmth.

"Holly," the giant began, "that's not how magic works. You can't just decide not to be a witch. If you try and do that, the magic will build up and—"

He abruptly cut-off and looked away from me. But I was having none of that. I moved from Mum's embrace and took a few steps closer to Hagrid. "It will what?"

He hesitated, but eventually finished his sentence. "It'll kill you," he revealed.

Behind me, Mum gasped. Dudley began to vocalize some rather improper words, and I could only imagine that Dad had turned as purple as an eggplant. I just stood there, shocked.

The next hour was filled with more arguing, name-calling, and more tears than I thought a woman could shed (that woman being Mum and not me). Dad seemed to think that the giant was lying. Mum proposed I see a doctor (a very discrete one, of course) – one who could "cure" my ailment. Dudley just stared at me as if he'd never seen me before.

By 1:54 AM, I'd made my decision. "I'll go," I whispered. Because as much as I didn't want to disappoint my parents, I also really didn't want to die.

The effect was immediate. Mum burst into tears (again) and buried her face in Dad's chest. Dad's face hardened and when I stood to go to them, to try and explain, he turned away, heading towards the back room.

I blinked back the tears, unwilling to cry.

"Come, Dudley. Holly Potter has made her choice. Let her go."

Dad didn't wait for a response. He stepped into the back room and he and Mum disappeared from sight. I felt as if he'd taken a piece of my heart with him.

I sensed Dudley shift beside me, but couldn't look at him. I didn't want to see the rejection on his face as well.

So it came as a great surprise when I felt his chubby fingers settle hesitantly on my back. I cautiously glanced up and was surprised by the lack of anger or enmity in his eyes.

"They're being daft," he said. "They'll get over it in time."

I stared at him in amazement. "You're not mad?"

He shrugged. "It's not really your fault, I suppose. Besides, you're still my sis-" he paused. "Cousin."

"Sister," I corrected him softly. "I'm still your sister."

He grinned down at me. "Sister then."

I threw my arms around him and, though surprised at first, he eventually hugged me back. "I'll work on them. You'll see. They'll be over it by Christmas."

"Thanks, Dudders," I said. "You're the best."

"I know."

I swatted at his shoulder as Hagrid announced it was time to go. Nervous, but sure of my choice, I promised Dudley I'd write before saying goodbye.

Hagrid chatted happily as we exited the shack, attempting to entertain me with tales of my real parents and what I could expect from the wizarding world. And, truth be told, much of what he said was fascinating. Or it would have been if I could have focused on it. But my mind was still back in the shack, wondering if Dudley was right and he'd be able to set our parents straight. Or if my fears would come to pass and he'd be turned against me instead, leaving me a true orphan.

I shivered in the cold and pulled my jacket tighter around me, afraid of the journey that lay ahead of me, but unable to turn back now.

My name is Danelea Dursley. Except it's not. And I am anything but ordinary.

A/N: Well, there's chapter one. Please click the review button, even if you only leave a sentence or a word. It's very encouraging and will make me write faster! Also, I'd love to get everyone's opinion: which house do you think Holly/Danelea should be sorted in? Should she stay in Gryffindor? Or would it make more sense for her to go some place else?

Also, any mistakes are mine, as I currently have no beta-reader. If anyone would like to volunteer, I'd be much obliged.