A/N: I apologize if the story ever seems similar to the books, but I need to set up the story properly, and, of course, not everything is necessarily going to change. But I promise, as the story goes on, the change in Harry's gender will have more of an impact on the story.

Also, assume, for sake of the story, that the prophecy never stated whether or not the chosen one would be a boy or a girl, but rather, a child.

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Lived

It was a still night on Privet Drive. Most of the street's residents had long since gone to bed, and the only sound to be heard was the distant hooting of an owl as three strange visitors stood before the house at Number 4 Privet Drive. The oldest of the three, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, held a baby, bundled in a blanket, between the three of them.

Minerva McGonagall, an old woman with a sharp face and her hair tied up in a tight bun, and Rubeus Hagrid, who stood twice as tall and five times as wide as a normal man, leaned over the baby as Dumbledore pushed aside the blankets that covered her head, revealing a tuft of black hair that just barely covered the lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.

Hagrid nearly burst into tears as Professor Dumbledore laid the baby girl on the Dursley's doorstep. The old professor tucked a letter, addressed to Vernon and Petunia Dursley, into the blankets and gently whispered, "Good luck, Harriet Potter."

Chapter 2: A Most Peculiar Letter

Ten-year-old Harriet Potter, a pretty, albeit scrawny girl with long, untamed black hair, and glasses in desperate need of repair was being pulled painfully by her ear out of her Uncle Vernon's car while her Aunt Petunia hurried her soaking wet and shivering son Dudley into the house. "What did I say about funny business?" Vernon told the young girl as he pulled her into the house and unlocked the cupboard beneath the stairs, "Now tell me, Potter," he shouted as he shoved a fat finger in Harriet's face, "what happened? And tell the truth, or you'll wish that you died in that car crash along with with your parents."

"I don't know," Harriet said as she wrenched her ear free from Vernon's vice-like grip—which he had honed with years of training, "the glass was there one minute and then it was gone. It was like magic."

Her Uncle Vernon grew furious at this remark, and his pudgy face turned a deep shade of purple. He threw open the cupboard door and shoved the girl inside, where she tripped onto the tiny bed shoved inside, "There's no such thing as magic," he spat out like venom before slamming the door closed and locking it, leaving Harriet alone in the darkness.

Harriet held out her hand and groped the air until she felt the string connected to the lone light bulb in the cupboard. She gave it a nice tug, and the "room" was lit up with dim light. The cupboard was tiny, just barely long enough for her to stretch out in one direction; and the bed had been cut to make it fit inside. And there was dust everywhere, but Harriet had long since grown accustom to it, as well as the numerous insects and spiders that found their way in her living space.

Harriet sat up in bed and pulled her knees into her chest. She pulled off her banged-up glasses and ran the back of her hand over her eyes, desperately resisting the oncoming tears. But, unable to hold it in, she shoved her face against her knees and cried into her old, too large jeans that her aunt had found in the back of Dudley's closet when he was six. She gripped her arms tight and dug her fingernails into her skin until she felt tiny trickles of blood on her fingertips.

She hadn't lied to her Uncle. At the zoo, Dudley had pulled Harriet's hair and thrown her to the ground before pressing his face against the glass and taunting the large boa constrictor. Then, as if by magic, the glass simply disappeared, and Dudley fell forward with a splash, and the snake climbed out of the tank and escaped. Though, one thing she didn't tell the zoo authorities or her Aunt and Uncle was that just before the snake fled, it had looked Harriet right in the eyes and thanked her, in English.

For a week Harriet remained in that cupboard. The door only ever opened so that Vernon or Petunia could toss some tiny scraps of food inside or so that Harriet could take one of her two daily bathroom breaks. Dudley had even made it a habit to jump up and down on the stairs above the cupboard, which released a cloud of dust every time his overweight mass came down upon the strained wood.

But once the week had passed, Harriet had been let out by a very frustrated Vernon who barked, "Bring the mail," as he walked back into the kitchen to eat what remained of his breakfast after Dudley swiped the man's bacon.

With a tired sigh, Harriet walk to the front door and picked up three letters from the mat: A postcard for Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon's sister; an envelope that looked like a bill, and another brown envelope addressed to Harriet.

The girl turned her back to the door, letters in hand, when it struck her. Hands trembling, she raised the stack of letters and stared at the thick brown envelope where, written in emerald in, it said,

Ms. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harriet turned the stamp-less envelope over to see a purple wax seal of a coat of arms containing a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large, ornate letter H.

"What's taking so long, girl?" Vernon called impatiently from the kitchen.

Harriet walked slowly to the kitchen, still staring at the letter addressed to her as she handed the other two pieces of mail to her uncle. The man looked at the envelope in disgust as he dropped it to the table and picked up the postcard from Marge, "Oh no," he said, "Marge's ill, she ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" Dudley interrupted and he pointed his smelting stick—an annoying accessory he received from his school, which he had been using to poke and hit Harriet with since he received it a few weeks back, "Harriet's got a letter."

Uncle Vernon ripped it out of her hand, to which she cried, "Give it back, it's addressed to me."

But Vernon was shaking and his normally smug face had been replaced by a look of utter terror, "P-Petunia…." He called to his wife, who was cooking up another pan of bacon for her son, "P-Petunia dear," his nervous calling grew louder.

"What is it, Vernon," she said, annoyed that she was pulled away from her cooking, "Oh my goodness….Vernon!" the two stared at each other a moment before staring at Harriet. But not with the normal look of disgust. Harriet thought they almost looked afraid of her.

"What is it, Dad," Dudley said as he poked his smelting stick into his father's shins, without eliciting the tiniest of responses, "I want to read it, what does it say."

"No," Harriet protested, "It's my letter, let me read it."

"Out, both of you," Vernon said as he stood up and pulled the pan off of the stove. But the two didn't move. "I said 'OUT!'" he screamed, and the two children fled the kitchen. Vernon, his hands still trembling, dropped the letter on the open flame of the stove and gave his wife another frightened look as the parchment took to flame.

The following day, Harriet had been moved to one of Dudley's old bedrooms. After her letter had been burned, she overheard her aunt and uncle talking about someone watching the house, so the move was no surprise to Harriet. Though, as comfortable as it was not having to cram herself into that tiny cupboard beneath the stairs anymore, Harriet would have much preferred to have that letter in hand in the dim lighting of that tiny room.

Day after day, more letters would arrive from Harriet. And every time Vernon took them from the girl, the next day an even larger amount would be delivered. What's more, owls had started nesting on the Dursley's home and, just like the letters, each day more and more showed up.

Vernon took every measure he could think of to stop the delivery of the letters: first he nailed the mail slot shut; then when the letters started getting pushed through the cracks in the door, he added an airtight rubber to all of the doors and windows—which ended up being more of a hassle for him, because now one had to pull extra hard to open the doors. But then the letters just started piling up on the windows and Harriet could swear her hat her Uncle's face couldn't possibly get any redder, nor could the vein in his forehead bulge any more without bursting.

But that Sunday, Uncle Vernon sat peacefully in the kitchen, eating a piece of toast with a smile on his face as he repeated the mantra, "No post on Sundays," in a gleeful tone over and over again. "Not one bloody letter," he said as Harriet stepped into the kitchen, failing to dodge one of Dudley's attempted jabs with the smelting stick, which caught her just below the knee, almost making her trip, "Good shot, my boy."

Harriet sat at the table and waited patiently for her relatives to finish eating so that she could pick from the scraps when Vernon turned to her and said, "Whoever the nutter that sent all of those letters is, they are no match for the post. After all," he said as he picked up a rather crispy piece of bacon, "there's no post on Sundays." He opened his mouth and prepared to take a triumphant bite out of the bacon when a single letter came flying out of the fireplace, hitting him square in the nose. "What the bloody—" he started but was cut off as a low rumbling ran through the house, and, before anyone had time to react, a torrent of letters came flooding through the fireplace.

While Aunt Petunia pushed Dudley outside—which was not an easy feat considering his size and the airtight rubber on the doors—Uncle Vernon had to pin Harriet down to ensure she couldn't get to any of the letters. "You listen here, you little witch," he shouted over the rumbling, "We're moving away, far away. They won't find you where we are going."

Chapter 3: The Cottage

It was the night before her 11th birthday, and Harriet lay beneath a moldy blanket on the dusty floor of some rundown cottage on the middle of rock out at sea. Dudley was fast asleep on the couch with his arm hanging down by his side, and Harriet was eagerly watching the seconds tick down to midnight so that she could, as with every year, wish herself happy birthday before anyone had the chance to ruin the day for her.

Outside, a fierce thunderstorm was raging, though given all of the stress that the Dursleys had gone through over the course of the past week, it was no shock to Harriet that they were all fast asleep.

Harriet watched as the seconds ticked down on the watch. 10…..9…..8

Harriet swore she could hear something knocking against the door, but figured it must be the wind.

7…6….5…..4

the knocking sound came again, but harder. Dudley sat up slightly in the couch, but seemed as if he were about to fall right back asleep.

3…2….1

And with a loud crack, the door was knocked inward, off of its hinges, and in stepped a man, twice the height of a normal man and five times the girth, with wild hair that covered his head and face. Dudley screamed as he bolted up from bed, and Vernon rushed down the stairs, rifle in hand, with Petunia right behind him, "Who's there," Vernon said sheepishly as he aimed his rifle at the man with a trembling hand.

The man walked inside and looked up at the man, "Sorry 'bout that," he said politely before bending down and putting the heavy door back in place as if it weighed nothing.

Vernon descended the stairs and held the rifle up to the intruder's head, "I demand you leave at once," he tried to sound forceful, was unable to muster up the proper tone whilst looking up a man who could easily crush him with one giant hand.

Hagrid, with an annoyed groan, turned, grabbed the barrel of the rifle, and bent it upwards as if it were rubber. Vernon, terrified of this show of strength, dropped the useless rifle to the ground before pulling Dudley off the couch and herding his son and wife against the far wall, as far from the beast of a man as possible.

Hagrid took Dudley's place on the couch, which groaned under the man's weight. He pulled out a pink umbrella from beneath his coat and pointed it at the fireplace, where the logless pit instantly burst into flame, which Harriet assumed was due to some form of trick. Hagrid then turned to the girl, "An' you must be Ms. Harriet," he said with a smile that showed clearly through his thick tangle of a beard, "I haven' seen you since you was only a baby. You sure take after your mother. 'Specially with 'er eyes and all."

It was the first time Harriet had ever been compared to her parents in a positive way, though she had overheard Aunt Petunia telling Vernon that she was looking more and more like Lily every day. "You knew my parents?" Harriet asked the giant.

"Course I did," he said, "Wonderful people. Very talented the two o' them. But, before I forget, I got somethin' for you," Hagrid carefully reached into his giant overcoat and pulled out a pristine box. Judging by the state the giant was in, Harriet figured he must have taken care not to let anything happen to it. "I made it myself last night. I hope you like it." Harriet looked inside and saw a cake that said 'Happee Birthday Harri,' to which Hagrid admitted, "About tha'…. I ran outta room while writin' that. Sorry."

"Thank you," Harriet said, unsure of what else to say. She had never received a real present before. She stared at the box and bit her lip, "I'm sorry…but who are you?"

"The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, which I'm sure you know all about," he said with a chuckle, but the smile disappeared from his face when he saw Harriet's look of confusion. He angrily turned to the Dursleys, "She's been under your roof for a decade and you never told her?"

Vernon's face turned a very dark shade of purple as anger started building up in him, "I forbid you to say anything," though whatever intimidation Vernon had hoped for was lost in the whimper that escaped. Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia, with a look of sheer terror on her face, held Dudley even tighter to her.

Ignoring the man, Hagrid looked Harriet straight in the eye, "Have you ever made anythin' happen. Anythin' you couldn't explain?"

Harriet's jaw dropped. Could this man have possibly known about the incident at the zoo?

Hagrid, taking Harriet's stunned expression as an invitation to continue say something that Harriet would never have expected, "You're a witch, Harriet."

There was a moment where everything stood still, and Harriet wracked her brain, unsure of what she heard, "I'm a what?" she gasped, not knowing what to make of his declaration.

"You're a witch, and a thumpin' good one once you get some trainin' in you," Hagrid reached into his coat once more and pulled out an envelope, similar to all the ones that came before, but with the address now changed to:

Ms. H Potter

The Floor

Hut-on-the-rock

The Sea

She pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster:ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mrs. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

After reading the letter, Harriet had many questions, but one there was thing she had to make clear, "You knew, didn't you?" she shot at her Aunt and Uncle, "You knew this whole time and you never told me."

"Knew?" Aunt Petunia said as she stepped away from Dudley, "Of course we knew, how could you not be? The spitting image of my…perfect sister," she spat out these last two words as if they were poison, "and the hair of that arrogant father of yours. Our parents were so proud to have a witch in the family. But I knew her for the freak she was. But once she was out of that school I was able to go back to living a normal life. Until she went and got herself blown up, and we got landed with you!"

Harriet broke into a run and charged her Aunt in an attempt to hit the woman for lying to her for all of these years, but Hagrid, with one saucer-like hand, held her back.

"Easy," Hagrid said, calming the girl, who was trying her hardest to fight back the tears that were already streaming down her face.

Harriet gripped her left forearm as tight as she could, "What happened?" Harriet asked Hagrid.

"There was a wizard…a terrible wizard. About twenty years ago, he started recruitin' followers, started buildin' up some power for 'imself. These were very dark times in the wizarding world. But some people, like yer parents, stood up to him. Good people they were, Head Boy and Head Girl as students. And they were very close to Dumbledore, the only wizard he-who-must-not-be-named ever feared; which is probably why he was out to pull them to his cause in the firs' place." Hagrid took a deep breath; the story was obviously hard for him to tell, but Harriet took the opportunity to ask him another question.

"What was the wizard's name?"

For a moment, terror ran across the giant man's face, "I don't like sayin' it, Harriet. Not many do. People are still scared."

"Please, can you tell me?" she sat down by his side and leaned in, "If he really did kill my parents I want to know his name."

Hagrid struggled, trying to muster up the courage to say the name, but no words came out. However, he looked at Harriet, into the deep green eyes that reminded him so much of Lily. He took a deep breath and, with was looked like a lot of difficulty, managed to force out the name, "Voldemort…." The man started sweating, "an' I won't be sayin' the name again," he ascerted.

Harriet nodded, and Hagrid continued, "So he went to your home one night. And when yer parents fought back, he killed them, but then when he turned his wand on you, his curse backfired."

Harriet could not believe what she was being told. But then she thought back to an old nightmare she had on occasion. She was in a bedroom with her mother when a bright flash of green light blurred her vision and the woman screamed until Harriet would wake up with an intense pain in her scar.

"They got what they deserved," Vernon shouted causing Hagrid to turn an angry eye toward the man, "fooling around with magic and weirdos, the world is a better place without their kind running about."

Harriet, wanting to hear the rest, brought Hagrid's attention back to her with a quick nudge, "But what happened to Vol—" she stopped herself when Hagrid tensed up, "I'm sorry, what happened to You-Know-Who?"

At this, Hagrid shrugged, "Who knows. He disappeared. Some say he died. But a man that powerful….I can't believe it. Some people, like myself, believe he's still out there, not dead, but too tired to carry on. But whatever the reason for his disappearance is, it happened after he attacked you."

Harriet's excitement dropped at this comment, "That…that can't be right," she thought to all of the times that Dudley had kicked her around, pulled her hair, "I can't have done anything to stop him," she paused and looked down at her feet, "I can't be a witch."

The giant man placed a saucer-like hand gently on her back,"Just wait and see, Harriet Potter," Hagrid reassured her with a smile, "after a few classes, you'll see what amazing things you can do."

Vernon once again raised his voice, "I will not pay for such rubbish. I will not have some crackpot old fool teaching her magic tricks."

At this, Hagrid stood up, pointed his umbrella at Vernon threateningly, and said in a calm, but infuriated voice, "Don't ever insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me." Suddenly, Hagrid was distracted by the sound of Dudley, off in the corner with Harriet's birthday cake, downing it one handful after the other. With a quick swish of the umbrella, Dudley bolted upright, and a pigtail sprouted from his buttock, causing the three Dursley's to run around in panic whilst Hagrid quickly escorted a laughing Harriet out of the hut.

Chapter 4: Diagon Alley

On their way to Diagon Alley to get her school supplies, Hagrid had taken Harriet to the Leaky Cauldron, a musty old pub that no one seemed to notice, where Harriet had seen the strangest assortment of people in her life. And the moment Hagrid had mentioned Harriet's name to the old bartender everything seemed to stop. But then, after a moment of shocked silence, everyone in the pub was clamoring to bow to the girl in thanks, a courtesy that made Harriet feel very uncomfortable. She had never been treated so kindly, nor had she ever been treated like a lady before, so the actions of the pub-goers really threw her off.

But there was one man who seemed far more peculiar than any other. A Professor Quirinus Quirrell, teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, who wore a purple turban on his head and spoke with a stutter that almost seemed like an act to Harriet. He seemed kind, but Harriet was made very uncomfortable by his presence, and she was none to upset when Hagrid finally hurried her along to the next room and walked her through the entrance to Diagon Alley via the enchanted brick wall.

Her first sight of Diagon Alley left Harriet speechless. Everywhere she looked were people dressed in an odd assortment of clothes, making Harriet feel uncomfortably conspicuous in her oversized jeans and t-shirt.

"Come," Hagrid started walking through the crowd, which was forced to part due to his large size, "we can't hope to buy your things without a bit o' money first."

Harriet had never had much money—a fact attributed to her Aunt and Uncle—so she was unsure of how she was going to afford anything on her school list. But Hagrid assured her with a smile as a white building that towered over all others in the area came into view.

"Gringotts," Hagrid said as they ascended the steps to the building, "run by goblins. Possibly the most secure location in the world, except for Hogwarts that is," he said jovially, obviously proud of his work place.

"Goblins?" Harriet asked, "you couldn't possibly mean those short little things actually exist?" For a moment the girl thought the man was pulling her leg, but the confidence in his reply dispelled such thinking.

"Exist? Of course they exist," Hagrid said as he pushed a giant door open, revealing a long hall lined with desks where scores of the creatures sat, "Nasty, clever creatures," Hagrid said quietly to Harriet, "you'd do well never to cross one if you knew what was good fer you." Hagrid walked up to a Goblin who was writing in some book and cleared his throat to get the tiny creature's attention, "Harriet Potter is here to make a withdrawal." Harriet could sense the nervousness in Hagrid's voice, and she couldn't help but feel intimidated as the goblin leaned over the top of the desk and looked down at the girl.

"I see," he said in an old, sharp voice, "and does Miss Harriet Potter have her key?"

With a trembling hand, Hagrid reached into his coat and handed the goblin a tiny key. He then leaned in and handed a letter, "And this is from Professor Dumbledore," the giant man's voice dropped to a serious tone, "it's about the you know what, in vault 713."

The goblin inspected the letter carefully then looked the man in the eyes, "Very well," he said as he handed the letter back, "Griphook will escort you."

"Hagrid," Harriet whispered as the tiny goblin escorted them to a cart and drove them past numerous vaults, ever on the descent, "what's in vault 713?"

"I can't tell you," Hagrid said as he straightened up, either from the seriousness of the topic or discomfort in the cart….or, possibly, both, "Hogwarts business, top secret."

Harriet dropped the subject, and the cart stopped as Griphook announced, "Vault 687." The goblin jumped out of the cart and unlocked the heavy metal door, and Harriet was met with the mounds of currency that her parents had left behind. She was left speechless at the sight.

Hagrid, catching on, gave her a gentle nudge and said, "Now Harriet, you didn't think yer parents would lead you with nothin' did you?"

Harriet put what money she would need into a small bag before being escorted back to the cart and continuing their descent until they stopped at a large black door with no keyhole. Griphook ran a finger down the length of the door, and it swung open revealing, anticlimactically, nothing but a tiny package in the middle of the giant vault. Hagrid stepped inside and grabbed the object and quickly stuffed it in his coat before wordlessly stepping back into the cart.

After leaving Gringotts, Hagrid dropped Harriet off at Madam Malkin's shop to get her school uniform before rushing off for some "private business," leaving Harriet instructions on where to pick up the rest of her supplies.

So Harriet, nervous about being left alone in such a strange place, walked inside, where she was met by the kind owner of the shop, "Hogwarts, dear?" Harriet nodded, "Good, good," she said as she pulled out her wand. With a flick a small pile of clothes flew from the shelves and into Harriet's arms, "Just follow me."

Harriet was led to the back of the shop, where a small, pale boy with slicked back blond hair was already being fitted. Madam Malkin mentioned to the two that she would be right back, and disappeared to the front of the shop, leaving the two youngsters on their own. "Hello," the boy said kindly, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harriet said, figuring it would be good to make a few friends as early as possible.

"Do you know what house you'll get?" the boy asked, though Harriet had no clue what he was talking about.

"No," she said, hoping that this wasn't something she was supposed to have figured out already.

"Well, I guess no one really knows until they get sorted," the boy said, relieving Harriet slightly, "but I'm sure I'll be in Slytherin, everyone in my family has been," he looked up, as if proud of this fact. "What about your parents? What house were they in?"

Harriet had no clue, but before she could answer the question, Madam Malkin walked in and told the boy he was done. The boy nodded to Harriet with a smile, and the two waved goodbye before he walked out, clothes in hand.

As nice as the boy had been, Harriet couldn't help but feel the boy was a bit smug. However, she had no intention of thinking badly of the him so quickly after their first meeting, so she figured she would wait until term started before passing any judgments.

"Now, your turn," Madam Malkin said before closing the curtains to the front of the shop.

She'd never really worn clothes of her own, let alone anything as feminine as what she had on. The Hogwarts uniform: a white buttoned shirt, gray knitted v-neck sweater, black cloak, and black pleated skirt—which felt the strangest to her due to having only ever worn pants—were being magically fitted whilst Madam Malkin was in the front of the shop, likely helping another customer.

Having spent her entire life in Dudley's old clothes, Harriet felt awkward as Madam Malkin returned to finish the fitting, but with her uniform in hand, as well as a new pair of jeans and a handful of t-shirts—"Muggle clothes" as Madam Malkin called them—Harriet made her way to the rest of the shops on the list before meeting Hagrid outside of Ollivanders, where he waited with a large, cloth covered parcel in hand.

"Got everythin' you need there, Harriet?" he pointed to the numerous bags that the girl had, with difficulty, brought along.

"Just about," she said as Hagrid lightened her load, "I just need a wand."

"Well, Ollivanders here will set you up nice 'n proper, but first," Hagrid held forward the parcel, which rustled slightly, "I figured you never got much in the way of presents from the Dursleys, so Happy Birthday."

Harriet put her remaining bags down and took the parcel from the man, "Hagrid, you shouldn't have," she said, feeling somewhat guilty at the kindness the man was showing her, but with some prodding from the man, she removed the cloth from the parcel, revealing a cage that contained a beautiful white owl, "She's beautiful," she said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Hagrid said, touched by the girl's kind words, "Now, come on. Let's get you yer wand." The girl walked inside the wand shop, leaving Hagrid to wait outside with her supplies.

The shop felt like an old library, large, dusty, and filled with rows and rows of shelves that Harriet could only assume were filled with wands. But there was, apparently, no one there, and Harriet felt uncomfortable in the dim shop, as if someone was watching her. "Hello?" she called as she approached the cluttered desk, but when she got no response she called out loudly, "HELLO?"

"Well, well," came a soft, old voice from the side of the shop, causing Harriet to jump in alarm, "I was wondering when I would be seeing you, Ms. Potter." An old man approached the desk and stared at Harriet with a pair of creepy silver eyes that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "The spitting image of your mother," he said, "except for that black mop of a head. I remember her first wand well," he walked up to a shelf and pulled out a long, thin box, opened it and presented it to Harriet, "Made of willow, great for charm work, just longer than your mother's at 10 and a half inches," he stared at Harriet, as if he were expecting her to do something. "Well, don't just stand there, give it a wave."

Almost out of instinct, Harriet waved the wand toward a glass cabinet in the corner, causing it to fall off its hook and shatter on the ground below, causing Ollivander to grab the wand from her hand whilst muttering something that Harriet could not make out. "Not to worry," he called, as if he were expecting the wand to work, and he grabbed another wand from the shelves, "the wand chooses the wizard, or witch, so it's just a matter of finding the right fit," he handed Harriet another wand, "ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy," he said, and Harriet gave it a wave, but this time to no effect, causing Ollivander to snatch it out of her hand.

This process was repeated several times; sometimes the wand wouldn't even be in her hand a second before the old man would snatch it from her. But then, after what must have been the twentieth wand, the old man pulled a wand from the shelves and whispered, almost too softly for Harriet to hear, "I wonder." He then briskly brought it to Harriet and held it before her, "holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

The moment the wand touched her fingertips, a sudden warmth spread through Harriet, and the wand felt almost as if it were an extension of her arm. With a simple flick, a shower of sparks erupted from its tip, and Ollivander smiled. "How curious," he said as he took the wand and began wrapping it.

"I'm sorry," Harriet said to the man, who presented her with the box, "but what's curious?"

The old man sighed, "You see, Ms. Potter, I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every. Last. One. And I find it curious that that wand should choose you, when its brother gave you that scar," the man brushed aside Harriet's bangs, revealing the lightning shaped scar on her forehead, and sending an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. "As I said, it's the wand that chooses the wizard, and it's not always clear why. But I think it is very clear that we can expect great things from you. The old man smiled, "After all, He-who-must-not-be-named did great things."

"Voldemort killed my parents," Harriet glared at the man. Though, unlike Hagrid, the old man didn't seemed shocked to hear the name, but merely straightened up, as if to defend his point.

"Yes, the Dark Lord did terrible things. But only a fool would deny that the things he did were magnificent works of magic."

No longer willing to be in the man's presence, Harriet paid for her wand and quickly bolted out of the shop and walked away alongside Hagrid without so much as a glance back.

The two were about to make their way back into the Leaky Cauldron when a small shop caught Harriet's eye, "Hagrid," she stopped and said to the man, "Is it all right if I'll meet you in the pub later? There's something I want to see."

The man thought for a moment, wondering if such a thing was safe, but then shrugged and said, "I suppose it's fine, just don't go wandering off toward Knockturn Alley, mind you. You never know what you'll run into there." And with that said, Hagrid continued back through the brick passage into the Leaky Cauldron.

With Hagrid gone, Harriet stepped into the shop that caught her eye, a barbershop with a giant pair of enchanted scissors above the door that opened and closed continually. The shop was empty, save an old woman who sat sleeping in a chair. "Excuse me, miss," Harriet said to the woman, who quickly stirred, "are you open?"

"Do you see a sign that says we are closed?" the woman shot back at her as she stood up.

"Well, no, but…"

"No matter," the woman interrupted, "just take a seat." The woman motioned toward the chair she was sleeping in and Harriet sat down, confused as to why there was no mirror on the wall. Then, with a flick of the woman's wand, a comb and a pair of scissors flew to Harriet's side. However, the two instruments, as if sentient, hesitated, and flew toward the woman, who had started going through some books by the entrance to the shop, "I don't care how messy it is," the woman snapped at them, "do your job," and with that, the scissors and the comb rushed back to Harriet.

"Umm…aren't you supposed to ask how I want it cut?" Harriet asked. For years her Aunt Petunia had tried to tame her hair, tried to cut it to make it look 'acceptable,' but every time it just simply grew back to its normal wild state. However, Harriet had never wanted Petunia to cut her hair, so maybe this time her hair would stick….if she had some say in the matter.

"Don't worry," the woman said, "just let the scissors do the work, and I'm sure you'll be pleased."

Harriet watched as large clumps of tangled hair continually fell from her head. And after about half an hour, the scissors and comb flew back to the old witch, who came to inspect their work. "Huh," she said, as if surprised by the results, "well….don't worry dear, I know a spell to grow the hair back. We can give it another shot," she looked down at the enchanted scissors and comb, who lowered themselves slightly.

"Wait," Harriet said as she picked up a small hand mirror and looked at the results. Her hair was short and choppy, only just going past her ears, and her bangs were pulled to the side, covering her scar. It wasn't all to unlike a musician she had seen on a magazine once, though the name escaped Harriet now. Sure, it was still messy, but Harriet felt like she needed to change herself before entering this new world. "I love it," she said with a smile.

Hagrid barely recognized her when she walked into the Leaky Cauldron, "What happened to you?" he said, sounding as if he'd had a bit to drink.

"Just got it cut. Do you like it?"

Hagrid smiled, "I love it," and he took a swig of some drink from an oversized mug, "now, off to bed. Big day tomorrow."

Harriet knew just how big of a day it was. And she couldn't wait. Tomorrow she was to board the Hogwarts Express.

She lay awake that night, staring at her wand, unable to sleep. And she promised herself that she would become a great witch, strong enough to protect all of those whom she loved.

To Be Continued

I hope you enjoyed my first update. Please leave comments