Disclaimer: So this will bet be the only one for this story, and it is that I obviously do not own Harry Potter nor any part of its franchise. This is my first story in this fandom, so if you liked it and want me to continue, please do tell me! I have planned out parts of it, but I am not sure if this storyline would be liked, so read ahead and do review.

Without further ado, I present to you...

"Boy, get down here!" The harsh bellow could be heard through all of Privet Drive. Now, Vernon Dursley was a very large man, and the boy he was currently yelling at was his nephew. His nephew, Harry Potter, who was greatly dwarfed by his immense frame.

Putting his puce-coloured face near the young boy's, he snarled, "Tell me, exactly why did your teacher complain that you turned her wig blue?"

At six, Harry was thin, unhealthily so, with great respect to Uncle Vernon's temper. Hence, his body trembled as he whispered, "I don't know—" The meek, quiet voice was cut off by the roar, "Silence! I want no more of this freakish business anymore, do you understand?"

Without being able to reply, Dudley sniggered and cut in, "The little freak was laughing, wasn't he?" The lie slipped between his lips in such a blasé manner, as casual as the backhanded blow he dealt to his cousin's face. Smirking slightly, Vernon picked the boy bodily up and shouted in his ears.

"Into the cupboard! And no meals!"

Satisfied with the outcome, he opened the cupboard's door, threw Harry in, and slammed it shut, locking it.

It was with great surprise, therefore, when he turned around to see a beautiful girl standing at the doorway, smiling coldly, enunciating her words carefully.

"I don't think so, Vernon Dursley."

He wondered why her face seemed so familiar, almost like …

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Petunia looked oddly at the girl. Somehow, her features struck a chord in her; she had seen them somewhere before. Strangely, she associated them with her sister, but her sister looked nothing like that. And her husband didn't either. Yet she was so sure about it, the high cheekbones, fine eyebrows, straight nose, full lips, pale skin, black hair, right down to the grey eyes. They elicited the memory of laughter and mischief.

Something clicked in her mind; the boy who always hung around her brother-in-law. The nasty one who played a prank on Vernon, and had a very odd name. What was it again? Serious, ah, yes, Sirius. Sirius Black.

Looking across the room, she saw a brief flash of recognition, by fear and disgust, in her husband's face, and she knew he remembered. It wasn't just about being a freak; he never saw the boy in his element, only knew that he played that one prank. Shuddering, Petunia recalled the mess. But more importantly, Vernon had only seen Sirius Black once; in the news, guilty of mass murder.

They had what could possibly the spawn of a mad man. In their house. Right here in Privet Drive, where everything was prim and proper, and the neighbours who would kill for a tidbit or two. Catching a glimpse of the girl's eyes, she suddenly realized that it made perfect sense why he could have done something so horrible. She had no problems believing that the girl was too.

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She had a clear voice, the kind that was icy and delicate, yet underneath, there was a surprising hint of steel and fire. It sounded dangerous, it sounded different, and Harry never wished to escape the cupboard more than he ever did. She was a stranger, someone whom he never knew, perhaps a relative who had finally come to take him away. But more importantly, she brought in, with her strangeness, a hint of freedom, and the real world.

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The fat revolting walrus-like piece of blubber with as much brain as a walnut stood gaping in front of her. There; she got all her insults out nicely, and it helped her to cool down as she plotted her next move. As a Slytherin, she never recklessly got herself in trouble, though this should count. And yet, she was at a lost as to what to do. She had begun to watch the boy after realizing that he was not actually treated well. And this was intolerable. A great muggle idiot, raising the child like that. No, she had to do something about it