I could hear my grandparents shouting in the next room. I think they were shouting at my father. Or just at each other.
They were definitely shouting about me. And… Uncle Harry? Which was odd. His name was definitely not brought up by my grandparents. Not ever. They hated that I played with my cousins. Technically Uncle Harry is my cousin too, father says. But he is so old it would feel weird to call him by his first name.
They seemed to think my "abnormality" as grandfather called it was somehow Uncle Harry's fault.
James, Albus and Lily call my father Uncle as well. Uncle D. My father does not care for nicknames, probably because grandmother embarrasses him so much calling him stupid nicknames. Maybe. I don't know.
My name is Lilliana Dursley. I was named for the flower, because grandmother's family is really big on flower names. Lilliana because my Great Aunt's name was Lilly, but she died because… I am not sure, grandfather said her husband was a drunk and they died in a car accident. My father says not to believe everything grandfather says, so maybe not. And grandmother's name is Petunia, so I guess they kind of just mashed the names up.
Grandmother calls me her "Lilly-willy-kins" which is just as awful as it sounds.
Or… she used to call me that. She called me something else today.
Freak.
Until yesterday I was a normal ten year old. I got good grades in school. I minded my manners and stayed out of trouble.
I was overly indulged by my grandparents. Well, as much as my father would allow. He was honoring my mother's wishes I suppose.
My mother died just after I had turned two. I don't remember her very well. But my father has done his best to make sure I am being raised the way she would want. Not too many sweets, not too many expensive gifts, just on special occasions. My grandparents used to go out of their way to over load me on pricey toys until they learned my father and I would pick over the ones I did not want and donate them.
That really offended my grandfather. He did not want his hard earned money going to, as he put it, trashy children of drunkards on the dole.
Grandmother had pinched my father's cheeks and told him how she always knew he was such a sensitive boy.
My father is a very large man. To think of him as a "boy" is just weird.
But back to my freakiness.
It started with little things. I was certain I had forgotten my homework. I looked in my bag three times. But when I opened my desk… there it was. I just assumed I had forgotten I put it in there.
I mean sure, I had just got to school. And I had not opened my desk yet. And I knew I had finished it the night before, but what other explanation could there be?
Another time my hot chocolate was too cold. I took a sip and it was just awful. I was working on my maths homework and took it to the kitchen to microwave it. Before I got there I saw steam rising from the cup. I took an experimental sip and it was perfect temperature.
Once again I assumed I had just been mistaken. Maybe I had fallen asleep and dreamed it had got cold.
But when my grandparents were over last night… there was no doubt that something was going on. Something that made my father and grandparents very unhappy.
Grandmother had started in on her stupid Lilly-willy-kins, and grandfather was saying bad things about people he called lazy lay abouts.
But then they started in on my father and I moving in with them because mother had been too weak to be bothered to stay alive for my sake if nothing else.
I couldn't take it anymore. I just wanted them to shut up. I wanted some peace and quiet.
And that was exactly what I got. Right in the middle of grandmother squeezing the breath out of me and telling me she was so sorry I had a weak mother, but I musn't worry because I had strong Dursley genes and grandfather complaining about loafers at work that they just… stopped.
They were opening and closing their mouths but nothing came out. Father looked at them and they looked at me and the look on their faces said they knew somehow it was all my fault.
And I was pretty sure they were right, because as soon as I realized that somehow I must be doing this, my grandparents could speak again. That turned out to be the worst part of the night.
My father quietly sent me to my room and told grandmother and grandfather he would call Uncle Harry to sort it out.
"I won't have it son!" Grandfather was shouting. "I won't do this again. He will have to sort her out and rid her of this… affliction, or he will have to take her away."
"My own granddaughter." Grandmother wailed. "A… a freak!"
"My daughter is going nowhere father." My father said quietly. He never shouted, he was the gentlest man I knew. He never shouted and he always thought things out before he said them.
He once told me he had not always been a nice boy but that he wanted to be a better man. For me and for my Mum. I couldn't imagine my father having ever been anything anyone could call "not nice" but he assured me it was true. That he had been especially unkind to Uncle Harry.
"Sort this out, Dudley! I will not return to this home while that child is afflicted!" Grandfather said in his firm no nonsense voice.
Afflicted. Freak. In one evening I had gone from being a much loved granddaughter into something my grandparents hated.
Father came in later and laid his hand on my forehead. "Don't worry Lilliana. Your Uncle Harry will know what to do."
"Are…" I choked out a sob "Are you going to send me away father?"
"Never… I promise your childhood will be… different. Better." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Sleep now. We will sort this out tomorrow."
Sort me out he meant. I couldn't help but feel like everything was going to change.
And the next night, Uncle Harry came. Right in the middle of all of that shouting.
"You!" Grandfather sounded meaner than I had ever heard him. "This is your fault boy, and you will repair whatever your lot has done to my granddaughter!"
"You have done something!" Grandmother wailed "You turned Lilliana into a freak to get your petty revenge!"
I could hear Uncle Harry's soft voice. "Want to explain this, Big D?"
"Lilliana has been showing… signs." My father sounded so helpless.
"Signs? What sort of signs?" Uncle Harry could be heard even over my grandmother's sobbing. Of course by now he had to shout.
"Signs like… well, I guess like you must have shown signs." Father sounded strange. Maybe even afraid.
"Signs like… what do you mean?" I had a feeling even though Uncle Harry had asked he already knew something about all of this.
I heard my father telling Uncle Harry all about the night before. I had never felt so ashamed.
"You will fix this or she has to go!" My grandfather shouted.
Go where? Why? What had I done? I couldn't help but cry.
"I told you no one is taking my daughter!" Father shouted.
"Don't worry Dudley, we will take care of this." Uncle Harry said calmly. I have no idea how he could be so calm while everyone else shouted. "But I do want to speak to Lilliana. Alone."
I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. It felt like the sound of the end of my world.
There was a quiet knock on the door before it opened. I tried to quickly wipe away my tears.
Uncle Harry came and sat down on the floor near my bed. "Hey there, kiddo. I guess you heard all that?"
I nodded sadly, trying hard not to cry again.
"I know it is scary. But it is the most amazing thing happening to you. No matter what your grandparents might say." Uncle Harry put a hand on my knee.
"Grandmother thinks I am a freak." I whispered.
"Yeah?" Uncle Harry looked angry "Well, your grandmother is a…. afraid." I had the feeling he meant to say something else.
"Afraid?" I couldn't for the life of me imagine that. "Of me?"
"Of the unknown I suppose. But there is nothing to be afraid of." Uncle Harry looked me right in the eye and I felt better for some reason.
"There isn't?" I asked hopefully.
"Not at all." He smiled. "I promise, I am going to be here to help you."
"Are you… going to take me away?" I was back to feeling scared.
"Yes. But only for a time." Something in Uncle Harry's eyes made me think he might be happy. Excited even. "Shopping first, I should think. Then, later, when you are a little older, to the most wonderful school in the world. You will learn so much and make the most wonderful friends. It will be the best time of your life. I promise."
I really wanted to believe him, but… "I won't know anyone there."
"Oh but you will." He assured me. "You will have family. Your cousins will be there and they will help you, and look out for you."
"My cousins? Are they freaks too?" They had always seemed so nice…
"NO!" Uncle Harry grasped my hands. "And neither are you. You are special. Gifted. This is not a school for freaks. It is a school for very talented people. I will bring your cousins tomorrow. They will help you feel much better."
The next day Uncle Harry brought Albus and a boy I had never seen before named Scorpius. Father was at work, but warned me only to open the door for Uncle Harry.
Scorpius kept looking around our living room and picking up things like he had never seen them before. Normal things like the telephone.
He looked questioningly at Uncle Harry holding it out to him.
"It is what Muggles use instead of owls." Instead of what?
He looked like he didn't quite believe Uncle Harry. What kind of life had he lived where they called telephones owls but didn't seem to know what to do with one. And what was that other word he had said? Muggle?
Uncle Harry sighed. "Put it down Scorp. We will discuss it later. We are here to focus on Lilliana."
"Right, your cousin the witch." Scorpius said this awful thing like it was totally normal to call people names in their own living room.
"HEY! It is not nice to call people names!" I glared at him.
"What name?" he actually looked confused.
"Witch. It is not a nice name." It was my turn to be confused.
"Lilliana," Uncle Harry looked at me kindly "it is what we call girls like you. Girls who can use magic."
"I…" I wanted to object. To scream that I could not do magic. It wasn't real. But the words got stuck in my throat. It made sense. It was the only thing that did. "I am a witch?"
"Well, sure." Albus smiled at me. "All of us are."
"You are a witch?" I was confused.
"Well… no, I mean, I am a wizard. But my sister is a witch." Albus laughed.
"So are mine." Scorpius said matter of factly.
I looked over and Scorpius had picked up the broom I had forgotten to put away.
"What are you doing to that broom?" It looked like he was trying to ride it like a stick horse.
"Scorpius put that down, it doesn't fly." Uncle Harry looked amused.
"Too bad." He looked disappointed. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Now, sit down while we tell you all about our world and your new school. But first…" Uncle Harry pulled out a stick and gave it a wave. When he did hot chocolate and biscuits appeared on the table.
I spent the rest of the day learning about witches and wizards and Hogwarts.
It all sounded… magical.
.