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)
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.
Thank you: To Opinr for reviewing and to all of you who favorited and followed! I hope you like this chapter.
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 :)
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
/
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
/
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
/
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
/
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
/
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
-Maya Angelou
"Get up, Hazel," said a soft voice. A sharp tapping noise on the door followed the words, and Hazel Octavia Lillian Potter stirred in her bed.
"Dudley's birthday is today," the voice continued, "And I need you to help me with breakfast and the cake."
"Yes ma'am," Hazel said sleepily, standing up. She heard Petunia's shoes clop down the hall as she walked away.
Hazel's posh antique clock told her it was almost six. The light streaming through her elegant curtains said that the sun was awake early as well. The twisted-up sheets on Hazel's pink, yet dignified, bed told her that she had had another nightmare, though she couldn't remember it yet. Everything in Hazel's room was posh, elegant, and dignified. After all, she was a Proper Young Lady.
Hazel rubbed her eyes tiredly and went to her wardrobe. She knew that she would have to wear something even nicer than usual since it was Precious Dudley's Birthday, which was saying something as she always had to dress nice. She owned nothing but dresses, blouses, and skirts, after all.
Hazel had been living with her relatives for almost nine years, ever since her parents had been killed in a gas explosion on her second birthday. She had escaped with only a lightning-bolt shaped scar on the right side of her face, almost in her hairline. Her aunt loved to tell people that story – or better yet, to bully Hazel into telling it, preferably with tears involved.
When Hazel had first been taken to the Dursley's home as a polite and surprisingly clean toddler, the Dursleys had been loathe to take her in, yet they did because it was the proper thing to do. When their kind deed began to receive attention, they saw a chance and took it. Hazel was a sweet and bright girl, clever beyond her two years, though not unnaturally so. She was nearly able to use the toilet by herself already, spoke fairly well, and tried to eat neatly and play quietly. The more people Hazel met, the more things looked up for the Dursleys. They were invited to prestigious parties, Vernon joined the elite neighborhood golf club, and Petunia was allowed into the Little Whinging Sewing Circle. Soon, Hazel found herself taking lessons of all sorts, from ballet and language to etiquette and piano, flute, and violin. She knew why; the more activities she did, the more attention the Dursleys would receive for having such a bright and well-behaved charge. Hazel had a strict schedule and strict rules, and while she hated nearly all of it, she tried to hide her feelings, lest she get in trouble.
Hazel had learned early on to control her feelings, because strange things happened when she got upset. Things would break or move or change, and Hazel would be screamed at and locked in her room for days. Hazel knew, rationally, that she couldn't have broken that window or moved those books or made her flute turn purple and then back to silver, but her relatives never listened to her.
While all of Hazel's activities distracted her from the odd things that happened, she didn't forget entirely. She simply tried to focus on other things and not think about the fact that she could make her instruments play from across the room.
Hazel did enjoy playing the flute, and the violin was alright. She didn't mind ballet all that much, but her teacher was very strict and would give you a rap with his directing stick if you did something wrong. She liked learning French and Italian, but Hazel would have enjoyed these activities more had she had time for anything else.
Hazel had no friends, no one to talk to or come sleep over or just study together. She wasn't allowed to have anyone over (even though Dudley and his nasty friends got the run of the place whenever they pleased), and when a tentative acquaintance would learn this, they would write Hazel off as weird or rude, and that was the end of that.
Besides, Hazel wouldn't have had much time for friends even if they were allowed over.
A typical day in Hazel's life went as such. Hazel awoke at six, bathed, dressed, and did her hair, then went downstairs to help with breakfast. At seven she would go upstairs, gather her things, and go to the designated bus stop for her school. Hazel went to Greenacres School for Girls, which was about half an hour away from Little Whinging, and she was picked up by bus and expected to study during the drive there, never mind that she got terribly carsick. The uniform at Greenacres was black tights, black Mary-Jane's, a green wool skirt, a green and white striped shirt with a vest over it that was bright green, all topped off with a green blazer. After school ended, it was straight to extra lessons, depending on the day. Hazel had ballet on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, violin and flute on Tuesday and Thursday, and piano on Sundays, and one class every month for each language. She was also expected to practice at least one instrument for an hour every day, not to mention do her homework, chores, and practice her languages.
She mightn't of minded so much, but her cousin, Dudley, was not expected to even clean his own room. He barely passed each class and was rewarded for it, while Hazel was punished if she got less than a perfect grade. It had been this way since kindergarten.
Hazel sighed now, dreading her inevitable piano practice later that day, and began to look for something to wear.
Hazel was now a beautiful young girl who resembled her mother in her face, though she didn't know it yet. She was very short and thin for her age and had very long red hair which was only cut once a year, and even then only an inch or two, which meant it hung past her bum. It was naturally curly, and she was only allowed to wear it down and well-brushed, in smooth braids, or in a complicated bun.
Hazel sighed again and brushed her hair before braiding it and then tying it into a bun. It was going to be hot at the zoo – where Dudley had elected to spend his birthday – and her hair made her very warm. Next she grabbed the coolest dress that would be acceptable. It was white with green and yellow flowers, a white collar edged in yellow, and sleeves that were a bit poufy. She fastened her white Mary Jane's over her white panty hose and picked up her little purse. She didn't want to carry a purse – she was only ten, after all – what did she need with a purse? – but aunt Petunia said that 'proper young ladies' carried handbags, so in an effort to have something in there, Hazel put in one of her hand puzzles, and notebook with a pen, some lip balm, extra hair ties, and a little comb and mirror.
Sighing at the thought of spending a day with Dudley and one of his horrid friends, Hazel straightened up and left her room.
The house was rather quiet. Only she and Aunt Petunia were awake. The quiet sounds of stirring and pouring came from the kitchen, and Hazel followed them.
As Hazel stepped into the kitchen, her aunt looked up and gave her the usual once-over look, then nodded approvingly and went back to mixing batter. Petunia always timed the cake just so, therefore it would be done just a bit after they returned home.
"Here's the recipe and a picture," Petunia said in the typical tone she used towards her niece – cold. "I'm going to get Dudley's presents out. Get everything ready for the cake, and mind the breakfast while you do."
"Yes Aunt Petunia." Hazel said with an inward sigh. She glanced over the recipe and groaned. Of course Dudley's cake had to be magnificent. It was to be a two tiered cake, half strawberry, half chocolate, with sweet-cream frosting and topped with candies and dollops of chocolate frosting. Twelve candles would adorn the top: eleven green candles for Dudley's age, and a larger number '11' candle to add yet another reminder.
Hazel's birthday was in five months. She would be eleven then. She never had a cake like the kinds Dudley got – in fact, the only reason there was a cake at all on her birthdays was because Dudley and Vernon wanted it. It was always a one layer almond or vanilla cake with vanilla frosting, sometimes decorated with swirls or some berries, and a single candle, which she wasn't allowed to wish on, because her aunt and uncle disapproved of wishing.
Hazel stirred the batter and made sure the sausages didn't burn. Once the batter was ready to set for a bit, she began to make potato cakes, fry the bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms, cook some beans, and make eggs and toast. While everything was cooking and not in danger of burning, Hazel set the table, making sure to add Uncle Vernon's coffee cup, Petunia's tea cup, and Dudley's juice glass. She set out the brown sauce and ketchup and jams, then began dishing the finished food out onto serving plates. Petunia walked in with the last of the gifts just as Hazel was finishing the icing, which needed to set in the refrigerator while they were gone. Petunia set down the presents beside the table, then quickly looked over the place settings, food, and the cake.
"Fine." She said stiffly, which was as close to praise as Hazel got. "Now, go get your present to Dudley while I pour this in the mold."
Hazel froze, and after a moment her aunt turned back to her, wondering why she hadn't done as told.
Hazel slowly closed her eyes. She had done the unthinkable. She had forgotten to buy Dudley a present.
Hazel was only given pocket money twice a year – once around Dudley's birthday, to buy him a gift, and then again at Christmas to buy all three Dursleys something, because that was 'proper'.
Petunia's face began to cloud dangerously.
"Don't tell me," she said in a terrifyingly soft voice, "That you forgot to get Dudley's birthday present."
Hazel swallowed.
"Erm, well, yes, I did…"
Petunia's face grew red.
"But!" Hazel said quickly. "But I can just get him something at the zoo! A souvenir! Something nice!"
A few seconds ticked by before Petunia pursed her lips and relaxed a bit.
"Very well." She said tightly. "But you'll be doing extra chores for this, girl."
"Yes Aunt Petunia." Hazel said breathlessly, glad she had managed to avert that crisis, lest she go without meals for a few days.
The Dursleys never raised their hands to Hazel – except for Dudley, but he could rarely catch her anyway. Hazel may have been very small, but she was also very fast – instead they preferred to give her extra chores, deprive her of meals, and lock her in her room for days on end, only letting her out for school and lessons. After all, a Proper Lady couldn't have bruises or cuts.
Hazel checked her purse to make sure she had her gift money and then grabbed the duster and began to dust the living room. Vernon and Dudley wouldn't be up for about another half-hour, and Petunia was busy starting the cake baking, so Hazel had some quiet time to think while she cleaned.
The only thing that had change in Privet Drive over the years were the photographs. Where pictures of a fat baby once stood, there were now pictures off a fat boy growing with time – riding a bike, at an amusement park, eating ice cream, and so on. There was no indication that Hazel Potter even existed – most of the time. However, when important visitors came over, pictures of Hazel magically appeared on the mantles and walls. This was really all you needed to know about how the Dursleys felt towards their niece. She was nothing more than their little doll, to dress up and show around and put away when done.
Hazel couldn't quite say she hated them, but she knew that they only treated her with marginal kindness because she was of use. However, she usually had food and she had a nice bedroom and enough clothes, so even though her life wasn't fair, and how she was treated wasn't fair, and that her parents had died wasn't fair, she knew that, in some ways, she was still lucky.
A loud series of bangs on the stairs announced that Dudley was awake, and Hazel quickly put the duster away and went to the kitchen to serve the food.
Petunia was currently smothering Dudley in kissing, nearly in tears about her 'wee Diddykins growing up'. Vernon stepped in right after and thumped Dudley on the back, booming, "Happy birthday, son!"
Soon everyone was seated around the table and Hazel had served the food. Dudley was busily counting his presents:
"Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty…uh…"
"Thirty-six," Hazel supplied. Vernon and Petunia glared at her, but Dudley didn't even look up.
"I know!" Dudley protested. "Thirty-six, thirty-seven."
He sat back and frowned. Petunia looked pointedly at Hazel. If there was one thing you could count on Dudley to know it was how many presents he should get. From his second birthday onwards, Dudley had received two extra presents every year. Last year he had received thirty-six.
"Oh – um, Dudley," Hazel began, and everyone looked at her. She blushed, but carried on. "I thought I'd get you something nice at the zoo – whatever you want."
Dudley narrowed his eyes at his cousin, then slowly nodded.
"Alright then." He said, and began tearing into presents.
Hazel saw a gold watch, another television, at least a dozen video games, a racing bike, a camcorder, a remote control airplane, and many other things before she looked back down at her food. Hazel was lucky if she even got a book for her birthday. The only toys she owned were three dolls and a couple of hand-puzzles; otherwise, it was clothes, clothes, and more clothes, all high-quality and very elegant. Honestly, Hazel was surprised that her relatives even gave her anything; they were notoriously cheap.
Soon enough, Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss arrived, and they all crowded into the car. Luckily, Hazel managed to sit on the side next to Piers – he hit less hard than Dudley, though Hazel wasn't the kind who couldn't take a punch, she simply preferred not to.
Every time Piers hit her, which he did a lot during the drive, because Hazel had once given him a good few kicks for picking on two little boys, Hazel hit back just as hard. Dudley would have immediately told his mother and father had she done it to him, but Piers was too proud to admit that tiny Hazel Potter could hurt him, so the battle was silent and didn't last long. Dudley began playing a hand-held video game, and Piers wanted to watch.
Hazel stared out of the car window, excited to go to the zoo and hoping that the boys would just leave her alone today. She never got to go anywhere for her birthday, and sometimes she pretended that Dudley's trips were hers.
Meanwhile, Vernon was complaining to Petunia. It was his favourite thing to do; he liked to complain about the bank, Hazel, the ministry, work, Hazel, oddly-dressed people, politics, and Hazel.
Today, however, he was ranting about motorcycles.
"Driving along like maniacs, no regard to anyone else, just weaving around like that…" he was muttering to Petunia, who nodded her agreement.
Hazel almost burst out and told them that she had dreams about a flying motorcycle all the time, but she knew it would be a bad idea. Whenever she mentioned something strange, she got in trouble.
Soon enough, they were at the zoo. Dudley, Piers, and even Hazel were bought treats at the entrance, and then they were wandering around looking at the animals. Haze was thoroughly enjoying herself, even thought it was quite hot.
They stopped at the zoo restaurant for lunch, and Hazel was only allowed half of a whole-grain turkey sandwich and a small salad, because that was how 'Proper Ladies' ate. She looked longingly at Dudley's hamburger and Piers' milkshake as she sipped her plain milk.
The next stop was the reptile room, which Hazel had been especially looking forward to. She had always felt drawn to snakes, and immediately located one once inside.
The sign in front of the boa constrictor's cage proclaimed him to be from Brazil, though he was apparently bred in captivity. This stirred something in Hazel.
"Me too." She murmured quietly, not quite sure why she was saying this to an animal who probably couldn't hear her, much less understand her. "I barely remember anything about my parents. They died in an explosion when I was two, so I live with my aunt and uncle and cousin." She nodded towards the Dursleys, and noticed that the snake was watching her, as if listening.
"So you don't have any family then?" Hazel continued. "Not even brothers and sisters?"
To her shock, the snake hissed and shook its head.
Hazel gasped and glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying her or the snake any mind. She blinked a few times and shook her head to clear itt.
"Did – did you just shake your head 'no'?" she stuttered.
The snake nodded, and Hazel gaped.
Then there was a shout.
"DUDLEY! Mr. DURSLEY! DUDLEY! YOU HAVE TO COME SEE WHAT THIS SNAKE IS DOING!" yelled Piers, and Dudley came waddling over.
"Move, Potter," he said, throwing an elbow hard at Hazel's chest and sending her flying. She hit the ground hard and groaned. She had hit both her head and her bum, and it ached terribly. Dudley and Piers had their faces pressed to the glass, and Hazel was suddenly so mad she was prepared to stand up and punch Dudley herself when –
The glass vanished.
It was as simple as that; the glass was gone, and Dudley and Piers teetered on their feet, screaming as the snake uncoiled and slithered out of its cage. All over the reptile house, people screamed and climbed to higher ground, but Hazel didn't move.
The snake slid up right next to her, and tentatively she reached out to touch its scales.
"Thank you, youngling," it hissed. "I will repay this debt sssssomeday."
Then it slithered off out of the retile house, biting playfully at people's ankles.
Dudley and Piers were traumatized. The zookeeper made Aunt Petunia a strong cup of tea and offered many apologies while Piers and Dudley were given zoo blankets as a consolation. The reptile keeper was in hysterics about where the glass went, but so far no one suspected Hazel of anything – though how could she have done that anyway? It wasn't possible….
Is it, though? Hazel thought wildly, Could it be possible that I…that I somehow…
It happened in the car. Piers and Dudley were recounting their horrific incident of terror for the fourth time when Piers said, "Hazel was talking to it before, weren't you Hazel?"
The look that her aunt and uncle sent her way could have killed.
As soon as Piers was safely at home, Vernon drove back to number four stiffly, his face purple. As soon as they entered the house and Dudley and Petunia scurried off to the kitchen, Vernon cornered Hazel and said, in a deadly calm voice, "Upstairs. Now. No meals for a month – no, two months. Don't you dare even make a sound up there."
As Hazel hurried up the stairs, she knew that this would be a long punishment indeed.