From one Freak to Another

Authoress: Leatrix Malfoy

Summary: "Just like one freak to talk to another," the plump boy said nastily, "she's one weird thing this one, worse than you. Mum adopted her a few months ago." Harry comes back to Privet Drive after sixth year to find out that his Aunt has adopted a small girl. What if there was more to the girl than Petunia realised?

A/N: I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I've had this idea in my idea for ages and I needed to write it down before it ate me alive. It's a one shot i.e. it won't be getting another chapter. It turned out a little different than I thought it would but I still like it. I like the idea of there being another child in the Dursley household and I'm hoping this is a little different than most 'the Dursleys' have a child and it's magical' stories. Actually the girl isn't magical at all hint hint... Just read the story before I tell you it all in the author notes... btw the telephone boxes part is a jab at all the BT telephone boxes around where I live. They can't seem to live for longer than a month before they get smashed up, same with bus shelter glass panels too, but I won't get into that...

A/N 2: One more thing, I've not given up on More to Life, I just have really bad writers block on it. I have half the chapter written at least but it may still be a while till I get it done. Time's an issue nowadays. Stupid job that's supposed to be 20 hours a week but ends up as 35, I miss being on the comp all the time during the day...

Sixth year was finished.

Another year was over. Another summer had to be spent at the Dursleys'.

Voldemort was still attacking the Wizarding world like a possessed mad man, but this story isn't about Harry's struggle with Voldemort. Oh no, this story is about something completely different.

Harry Potter, a sixteen, nearly seventeen year old wizard, pulled his trunk along the pavement, mumbling words under his breath. You could be certain that the words included, 'Dursleys'' and 'lazy arses', along with some words that aren't fit to be repeated.

Harry had received a letter from the Dursleys' a few days before term finished at Hogwarts. No need to look so surprised. They obviously know how to send post by owl or Harry wouldn't have ever gotten that measly Christmas present in his first year. Basically the letter told him that Uncle Vernon wasn't going to bother picking up from Kings Cross. If he wanted to be at Privet Drive so much he'd have to make his own way back. Of course Harry, being the boy he is, did make his own way home, even if he did grumble about it the whole way.

It took everything he had not to turn around and find his way to the Burrow or even Hermione's house, but he decided that Dumbledore would force him back to Privet Drive no matter what so he went anyway.

Little Whinging wasn't home, it never had been. He decided it was too normal looking for his liking. Not a blade of grass was out of place on any of the front lawns around Privet Drive. There was hardly any litter and even all the telephone boxes stood with their glass panels in tact. Harry couldn't figure out how this was possible with kids like Dudley's gang around. Harry sighed and resigned himself to walking up the concrete path of the place he supposed to call home.

As the raven haired boy opened the front door of Four Privet Drive, he watched as a familiar looking bulldog darted out. The dog looked from side to side, sniffing with his nose high in the air, looking for the intruder who had interrupted his sleep. Harry didn't know whether to look bemused or to run half a mile down the road. He never did like Ripper. The dog had a habit of chasing the poor green-eyed boy up trees, barking at him for hours on end.

Surprisingly, when Ripper noticed Harry, he just gave him a quick sniff then set himself down on the front mat. Harry thought it was a particularly tacky mat; a brown one that had the word 'welcome' embroidered in black. The only person he could think that the Dursleys' would welcome would be... Aunt Marge.

That's when it hit him.

Aunt Marge... Ripper never went anywhere without Aunt Marge.

He hoped dearly that he was wrong just this once.

"Potter!" a gruff voice shouted from inside the house.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat but he immediately calmed down straight away. It was only Uncle Vernon's voice.

"What are you doing here, boy?" the huge purple faced man asked as he appeared in the doorway, his moustache twitching as he spoke.

Harry blinked. "I live here, don't I?"

"Don't give me any lip, boy!"

Harry just glared at his Uncle. "You can't kick me out anyway."

Uncle Vernon's face turned a shade darker as he moved out of the way. "Get in this house before you cause a scene!"

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't one who was causing a scene in the first place. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he asked anyway. "Is Aunt Marge here?"

Vernon glared at the boy. "No, she's in Majorca, not that it's any of your business!"

Harry ignored the jab aimed at him and placed on foot on the stairs.

"Oh no you don't, boy!" Vernon interrupted once more, "you are sleeping in your old room. We have someone else using Dudders' second bedroom." Uncle Vernon walked away from Harry, mumbling something about Aunt Petunia and her 'stupid obsession'.

Harry just shrugged to himself and left his trunk outside the cupboard door. He opened it and peered in. He found himself wondering if he would even fit in it anymore. With a sigh he closed it and turned away from it, only to nearly bump into something.

Or rather someone...

A little girl was stood about a foot away from him starring. The small light skinned girl couldn't have been more than seven years old. She had dark blonde hair that hung around her face in ringlets. The sky blue eyes were looking at Harry unblinking, which was quiet unnerving after around five minutes. She must be the 'stupid obsession of Aunt Petunia's' Vernon was talking about.

He was just about to speak to her when she said, "hello," in a voice that quiet that he had to strain to hear her over Aunt Petunia's banging that was coming from the kitchen.

"Hi," he said in an equally quiet voice; for some reason he didn't want Aunt Petunia to hear him.

Harry could see something move from the corner of his eye; Dudley. He was stood at the bottom of the stairs, sneering at the girl. "Just like one freak to talk to another," the plump boy said nastily, "she's one weird thing this one, worse than you. Mum adopted her a few months ago." Dudley gave the poor girl a quick shove before walking out the front door, slamming it behind him. The girl jumped as the door banged shut.

Adopted her? Harry though. He didn't think Aunt Petunia had it in her to adopt a child. It was obvious at the moment that only Petunia wanted the girl to even be there.

Harry kneeled down so he was at the girl's eye level. "I'm Harry. What's your name?" he asked.

"Leanne," she said a little more confidently than before. "You're not like them."

"Not like who," Harry asked a little bewildered at the girl's statement.

"Them," she said, pointing to the kitchen door.

"Suppose I'm not," Harry said a little awkwardly.

"I like you," she said rather shyly, nearly reverting into herself once more. "He doesn't like me."

"Who? Dudley?" Harry enquired.

Leanne nodded. "And him," she said, stressing the word 'him', eyes looking towards the kitchen door.

"Vernon?" Harry guessed, "I wouldn't worry about him too much, he doesn't like most people."

The girl seemed satisfied at his answer. With that the girl turned around, her light brown teddy bear grasped in one hand, and walked up the stairs.

Harry never even thought to ask the girl what her surname was.

After spending ten minutes trying (with little success) to make the cupboard under the stairs larger by glaring at the small bed that still resided in it, Harry slammed the door shut as hard as he dared, (which was scarcely more than a tap really) and walked into the kitchen, immediately coming face to face with his Aunt.

She was looking fiercely at him as if he had back chatted her or something. "You had better not be talking to Leanne!" she all but snarled.

"It'd be rude if she asked me a question and I didn't answer her back," Harry mumbled.

"I don't care!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, "you are not to speak to her. She's far too sweet to be talking to the likes of you!"

"You make me sound like a criminal or something," the raven haired boy said, side stepping his Aunt to grab a glass of the draining board.

"You're as good as," the skinny woman screeched.

Harry shook his head and didn't even dignify his Aunt with a response. He knew she would always have something to say to combat whatever he came out with. He had never in his entire life left her speechless. He didn't think anyone had left his Aunt speechless before.

"It's rude to turn your back on your elder's boy!"

Harry spun around to look at her. "Look, I won't talk to her, ok?" He turned back to look at his reflection in the window. He could just about see his Aunt's as well. She looked a little taken back but recovered quickly. "Good. I'm taking Leanne to the shops. I want dinner ready and waiting by the time we return."

The wizard heard the kitchen door close behind her. As he did he let out a sigh and looked at his watch. He'd been home for exactly twenty seven minutes and he'd already had enough.

Over the next few days, Harry caught the girl staring off into space every time he saw her, as if she was looking at something no one else could see. She never talked much; she hadn't uttered another word to Harry since the day he came back from Hogwarts. When Aunt Petunia talked to the girl, all she would do was either nod or shake her head.

Harry also noticed that the girl would take quick glances at him when Aunt Petunia wasn't around. She looked as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

The raven haired Gryffindor noticed his Aunt Petunia was glaring at him yet again. She seemed to be more vindictive this summer. Maybe it was because of Leanne; maybe it was because she hated him more than ever, he really couldn't tell. He really didn't care to know either.

One evening, while Harry stood absently gazing out of the kitchen window while washing the dishes in the now lukewarm soapy water, Aunt Petunia started to yell at him.

"You lazy boy!" she began, "You can't even wash the dishes correctly! Isn't there anything a useless boy like you can do!?"

Harry noticed that Leanne was sat at the dinning room table, her little fists clenched. Harry ignored her in favour of looking at the soapy water.

"Answer me you idiot boy!" Petunia shrieked again.

"Shut up!" someone screamed. Harry noticed that it was Leanne that was shouting the ear-piercing yell. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Then the little girl ran out of the room.

Aunt Petunia spun around to look at Harry and sneered at him. "She's bloody wrapped around your little finger, isn't she?" she hissed. She threw the tea towel she had in her hands on the floor and stormed out the room.

What the hell was all that about? Harry thought, hands still in the dish water. With a shake of his head he carried on with his chore.

It was a few days later when Harry found little Leanne stood peering though the living room window after the sun had set. He himself didn't feel like sleeping that night for reasons that he didn't even know.

The girl heard a noise and jumped around, a guilty look on her face. She looked relieved to find it was only Harry. She began to fiddle with the hem of the dress she was wearing.

"What're you doing?" Harry questioned, slowly walking into the room.

"I always like looking at the stars," she said quietly, turning back towards the window. "My family never let me."

"Why not?" Harry asked, perching himself on the arm of sofa.

She shrugged. "I had to be in bed before the sun I guess."

"Why do you like the stars?" he asked, wanting to keep the girl talking.

"They're pretty," she said in an awed voice, "and far away."

"Why did you yell at Petunia the other night?" Harry asked, wanting to know why the little girl who seemed to like Petunia would stick up for him.

"My Mama would yell at me like that. I never liked it," she said with a small smile. "I didn't think you'd like it either."

"Thank you," Harry replied.

She was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "I know who you are you know. You're a wizard. My Mama told me I wasn't a witch but a pat... pat... patheic... in... incompeent... squid... I think she said." She couldn't quiet get the grasp of the complicated words. She said it as if she was just trying to repeat someone else's words.

Harry was shocked to say the least. "A squib you mean?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh. That's why she gave me up."

Harry felt his heart break a little for the girl. What kind of parent gives up their child just because they couldn't do magic. He knew the Dursleys' would give theirs up if it did do magic, but he knew they were malicious unpleasant people anyway. Then it hit him.

"You're from a pureblood family then?" he asked.

The girl looked thoughtful. "I... think so," she said slowly.

"What's your full name?" Harry asked, realising he didn't know.

"Leanne Annabelle Parkinson," she said with a disgusted look on her face. "I don't like the middle part."

The raven haired boy nearly fell of the chair in surprise even though it made perfect sense. Of course a family like the Parkinsons' would give up their squib child. The child would be seen as a disgrace to the family. He noticed that Leanne was looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I think Annabelle is a pretty name," Harry said, a small smile on his face.

Leanne let out a child-like giggle and ran up to Harry, hugging him around the waist. "You won't forget me, will you?" she said in a whisper.

Harry understood immediately what she was getting at. She'd been abandoned, forgotten by her own family and she didn't want it to happen again.

"I promise," he replied in the same tone, absently stroke her blonde curls. "I'll never forget."

Fin

Leatrix Malfoy 21st - 23rd August 2004