Title: I'm Little But I'm Coming For The Crown - Hazel Potter, I
Author: ChattyTopic
Rating: T for language, bad childhoods, adult situations (violence, sexuality in later parts)
Summary: Featuring an all girl cast, Hazel Potter discovers she is a witch and gets to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, not all is as it seems. One of her teachers seems like he is out to kill her, and danger lurks around every corner, from a growing dragon to a three-headed dog to a troll. And then there's this mystery of the Sorcerer's Stone, which Hazel and her friends are certain a teacher is trying to steal. And of course there's Quidditch and school work to think about. What are Hazel and her friends to do when it seems that Lord Voldemort might rise again?
There are twists, because this not a verbatim retelling of the story with girls instead: Hazel Potter has never worn trousers in her life, nor a t-shirt, Daphne Greengrass is not like you would think, Hermione Granger actually does have fun, and likes it, Millicent Bulstrode isn't a bully, Lisa Turpin has never been away from her parents in her entire life, and everyone is damaged – but damaged people are dangerous. They know how to survive.
Warning: This story does use a lot from the books, but Hazel's childhood and reactions to things are quite different. The general plot (someone wants the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened,etc) will be the same, but Hazel's actions and reactions will be different. Again,there will be little quoted from the books.
Note: This story, I think, has been along time coming. I first got the idea while writing the sequel to my first-ever fanfiction (on another account) of Petunia Using 'Harry's' tragic story to gain popularity and sympathy. I took it even farther here. Just wait till the next chapter; you'll understand. That should be uploaded today or early tomorrow. This chapter is more of a prequel.
Any questions, suggestions, prompts, pairings, or mistakes you see - please tell me! Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to the Queen. I just play with things :)
Witch Hazel
The last lone aster in the wood has died,
And taken wings, and flown;
The sighing oaks, the evergreens' dark pride,
And shivering beeches, keep their leaves alone.
/
From the chill breath of late October's blast
That all the foliage seared,
Even the loyal gentian shrank at last,
And, gathering up her fringes, disappeared.
/
The wood is silent as an unswept lute;
Colour and song have fled;
Only the brave black-alder's brilliant fruit
Lights the sear deadness with its living red.
/
But what is this wild fragrance that pervades
The air like incense-smoke?
Pungent as spices blown in tropic shades,
Subtle as some enchanter might evoke.
/
Not like the scent of flower, nor drug, nor balm,
Nor resins from the East,
Yet trancing soul and sense in such a charm
As holds us when the thrush's song has ceased.
/
Mysterious, gradual, like the gathering dews,
And damp, sweet scents of night,
Whence is this strange aroma that imbues
The lone and leafless wood with new delight?
/
And while the questioner drinks, with parted lips,
The mystical draught — behold!
A wondrous bush, beplumed from root to tips
With crimped and curling bloom of shredded gold!
/
Not even the smallest leaf or hint of green
Is mingled with its sprays,
But every slender stem and twig is seen
Haloed with flickerings of yellow blaze.
/
What wizard, wise in spells of drugs and gums,
With weird divining-rod
Conjures this luminous loveliness that comes
As if by magic from the frozen sod?
/
Fearless witch-hazel! braver than the oak
That dares not bloom till spring,
Thus to defy the frost's benumbing stroke
With challenge of November blossoming!
/
And yet it has an airy, delicate grace
Denied all other flowers,
And lights the gloom as some beloved face
Dawns on the dark of melancholy hours.
/
Miraculous shrub, that thus in frost and blight
Smilest all undismayed,
And scatterest from thy wands of golden light
A sudden sunshine in the chilly glade.
/
Sprite of New England forests, he was wise
Who gave thee thy quaint name,
As, threading wind-stripped woods, with awed surprise
He first beheld thy waving fan of flame.
-Elizabeth Akers Allen
Hazel Octavia Lillian Potter had not been wanted.
It wasn't that her parents didn't want a child, or that they didn't love her with every fibre of their being, but that they had been praying for a boy for only one reason: there was a prophecy concerning a child, and it seemed to point to their child only.
It went as such:
"The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have twice defied him, born on All Hallows Eve…and the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal but she will have powers the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born on All Hallows Eve…"
When James and Lily Potter heard this prophecy in March of 1980, they prayed to every deity imaginable to have a boy. The odds were for that; James's family had very few girls born since the family began; if they had a girl she would be the tenth female Potter in several centuries.
On the night of Halloween in 1980, Lily stared at the clock in her bedroom, breathing heavily, and tried her best not to push.
"Lily, dear, you have to push!" said Madam Pomfrey nervously. "The baby will go into shock soon! I can see the head already."
"No!" Lily said, her face sweaty and screwed up in concentration. "If I wait just another half-hour, the baby will be safe no matter what!"
"Lily, I know you're afraid, but the baby has to come out now." Madam Pomfrey urged, "Please, you have to push."
Lily bit lip hard. A tear slipped out of her eye, and she finally gave in. With a loud cry, the baby arrived.
James immediately ran into the room. Lily had asked him to wait outside – she was nervous – but now she had never been happier to see her husband. He rushed over and took her hand, and Lily squeezed it hard, panting. Madam Pomfrey quickly cleared the baby's nose and throat of fluids and it immediately started crying softly. She swished her wand a few times and the baby was clean and deemed healthy. Then she looked at the Potters, and they saw tears in her eyes.
She stepped over to them with the baby, who was wrapped in a golden blanket, and slowly lowered her into Lily's arms.
"Say hello to your little girl." She said, and all three of them cried.