PREVIOUSLY ON TOD: Daisy in all her brilliant wisdom decided to trust Tom Riddle, who then left the confines of the Diary as a result of unforeseen circumstances and currently inhabits the body of one Gilderoy Lockhart. Tom tricked Manasa (the Basilisk) into killing a student (the unfortunate victim was Sally-Anne Perks, wrong place, wrong time), who was subsequently killed by rooster cry (the Basilisk, not Perks – she was eaten). Tom then harvested the Basilisk to make himself a very rich man, but before he left, he totally went back on his word and Obliviated Daisy who now remembers nothing. The wizarding world is in uproar: everyone (apart from maybe Severus and Lucius, suspicious as always) thinks that Lockhart is a criminal mastermind who kidnapped, tortured and Obliviated Daisy to cover up a super elaborate plot involving the Chamber of Secrets and is now on the loose. Dumbledore (who probably knows it's Tom but not how, and besides he has bigger problems at the mo' like not getting fired) and Hagrid are still suspended pending completion of a Ministry investigation and Hogwarts remains closed. Daisy has been discharged from the Hospital Wing and Snape is taking her back home.


Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Why didn't you come to me?"

Daisy jumped. So lost in thought, she'd almost forgotten that Snape was sat beside her as they made the journey southward to Surrey. They hadn't exchanged a word since they'd gotten in the sleek black town car, and she was quite all right with that. He seemed to be in an odd mood and being in the Ministry car made her feel much more uneasy than expected. She'd spent the past half an hour or so trying to figure out why. After all, it wasn't her first time in a car. Heck, it wasn't the first time she was in a car with Snape – so what was it? Was it the way the car slipped between cars to avoid the afternoon traffic jams or the way it jumped traffic lights and junctions, the driver seemingly unfazed by the near misses, that made her feel odd?

"With what, sir?" Daisy asked slowly, not entirely sure what he was referring to. Was there something that she had done that she couldn't remember?

"I am your Head of House. You should have come to me. You should have told me what they did to you. I would have handled the matter with discretion. At the very least, I could have perhaps reversed its permanence or countered it. I could have offered you counsel. I could have done something."

"Oh." Daisy suddenly felt very uncomfortable, the car seeming entirely too small despite its roomy interior. She had never really considered that she might eventually have this conversation with Snape. She certainly hadn't expected him to seem so angry about it. "I'm sorry…?"

"Why didn't you come to me?" he repeated.

"I…" Daisy trailed off, suddenly finding her hands very interesting as she tried to remember what the reason had been at the time. "It didn't occur to me to do so. It…it happened at the end of term. I was going home the next day. I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to think about it. I don't really want to think about it now, actually." She absentmindedly scratched the scars on her hands, absently noting the new additions, in particular the raised white line that ran across the middle of her palm. "I was sure you'd say something, or do something, and that it'd make it a hundred times worse. So I dealt with it. I was dealing with it. It's fine."

"It isn't fine! You have that - that word branded into you-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Daisy snapped back, cutting off whatever tirade her Head of House was about to launch into. This was why she hadn't told him anything! She must have known in the back of her mind that he would react unpredictably, and the last thing she had wanted or needed was to be told that everything was a consequence of her own stupid actions. "Why are you yelling at me? Are you angry at me? Are you saying it's my fault? Because I can assure you that I didn't do anything to deserve it!"

"I am angry at myself," Snape snarled, surprising Daisy with this admission and deflating the anger that had begun to bubble up inside of her. Snape was being surprisingly emotional today. Daisy had often assumed, along with the rest of the student body, that he had two emotional states: blank and various stages of anger. Sneers and smirks were not emotions. And yet she was once again witness to the dark plethora of emotions that crossed his sharp features, the knuckles on the hand on his walking stick colourless, as he stared out of the window. "I should have never allowed that to happen to you. I should have never allowed any of this to happen to you. You were under my responsibility and I…" He turned back to her, the remaining emotion confined in his dark eyes as he held her own pale blue gaze. "I have failed you and for that I apologise, Miss Dursley."

"Apology accepted, sir." She even managed a small smile which she hoped was reassuring. Daisy didn't blame him. She knew she wasn't the only student in the school who was bullied, and as a former bully herself she appreciated the lack of teacher intervention much more than the alternative. She cringed inwardly at the thought of Snape openly defending. Allowing her access to Classroom Three had been a godsend. "Honestly, I thought you knew. You were always warning me – or sticking me in detention – and I don't know. I guess I assumed you knew and just didn't feel like doing anything about it. Character-building and all that."

Daisy had expected him to sneer in acknowledgement and lament that nothing could improve a Gryffindor temperament. She had not expected him to look as if she had just slapped him. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Well, no – that's not what I meant," Daisy said quickly, wishing that he would just go back to the blank stares because all of this was confusing. "I just – well, I guess it kind of is what I meant. I know that I could have come to you. I know that. I know you could have probably done something, but like I said it would have made things so much worse and you would have probably stuck me in detention until I Graduated for "my safety" or had me re-Sorted or something equally as dramatic and humiliating. No one outside of the House knew. Except the Weasley Twins somehow, but they seem to know everything except the Slytherin password – oh, and Professor Dumbledore knew, so I thought he'd told you."

"What do you mean the Headmaster knew?"

Daisy regretted wishing that Snape would return to a mood that she knew, as his voice dropped to a deadly whisper that sent shivers up her spine and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. She had to hand it to him – he was displaying a range of emotions Daisy had only previously associated with the colours on her father's face, who could go from puce to sickly green within the bristle of a moustache.

"Well, he – never mind, sir. It's nothing."

Daisy couldn't exactly tell Snape about Neville being rescued by Dumbledore from Higgs and his gang. Given the Headmaster's lack of intervention in anything, Daisy had always assumed that he'd stepped in at that particular moment because he'd somehow found out and it was his indirect way of saying 'I won't tolerate any bullying of my Gryffindors, so it's a good thing that I can also punish the ones who bullied you as well'. After all, if the Weasley twins knew (however vaguely), surely the all powerful semi-omniscient Headmaster had heard something as well. And Donahue had grumbled of nothing else since the beginning of term, placing the loss of his Head Boy position firmly on Higgs' – and Daisy's – shoulders, never Neville's. Telling Snape all this would not only be doing the very thing she had avoided doing, but the thought of doing so seemed to be filling her with quickly growing panic. He couldn't know. She couldn't tell him.

"Tell me, Miss Dursley." She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the dread currently filling her. She'd never been so worried about the consequences should a teacher find out. Why was she finding it so hard to breathe? What was it about being in this stupid car that was making her so uneasy? "Miss Dursley."

"Please," she asked, her voice a shaky whisper, "Please can we drop the subject?"

Snape almost snarled that no, they could not, not if that old fool had known all along and had decided to keep it to himself, but reluctantly accepted that he could not. Daisy had tensed up, fingers curled tightly into fists, her breathing fast, and the emotions rolling off of her confused and erratic. Something he'd said had triggered her subconscious, and pushing it for his own selfish desire to have his questions answered would be contrary to the apology he had just delivered. He'd find out if Dumbledore had known another way. His eyes flashed with a promise against the old man. There was more than one way to pay off a Life Debt, and ever since the events of last year, Snape had been contemplating his alternatives with increasing sincerity instead of as a passing thought in irritation.

"I assume your parents do not know," he said after awhile. Daisy's breathing had calmed, though her hands remained curled up into tights fists, and his own thoughts had been neatly placed where they belonged – out of sight and out of his way.

"They don't," she said simply.

"Do you intend on telling them?"

She sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I? It's hardly…inconspicuous. And if this is it…if I'm not coming back to Hogwarts, I'll have to tell them. And I will. Just not now. Not today."

"In this particular matter, I will trust that your judgement is much better placed than my own. They are your parents after all," Snape acquiesced, noting the slight relief to Daisy's shoulders at this reassurance. "It is a shame how things turned Miss Dursley. Despite what you might otherwise think, I have always thought you to have the potential to go far. If only you would just listen to me."

Daisy smiled sadly. "I'm sorry too, you know. For what happened last year. It's…it's my fault you got attacked by Quirell. I'd known for ages he was odd, and I left you with him and then I didn't even come to check until it was too late. I was just so happy that they were talking to me – that Malfoy was playing chess with me." She gave a mirthless chuckle and shook her head at how she'd been so happy just to be accepted for all of five minutes. "If I'd come sooner, you'd have been okay."

Snape blinked. "That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, but it feels like it, you know? Just like you couldn't have done anything for me, I couldn't have done anything for you, but it doesn't stop me from thinking I could have. That I should have. I know you weren't a Quidditch player or something so it's not that big a deal, and you're still an awesome Potions Master, but if it wasn't for me…" She looked up at him with a sincerity that he had rarely seen on her face and that struck him dumb. "I'm sorry, okay?"

He nodded, giving her what she seemed to need to hear. "Apology accepted, Miss Dursley."

With a final smile (upturned corners of the lips from Snape's end), they lapsed into silence once more, each lost in their thoughts. He couldn't have said anything if he wanted to, blind-sided by the idea that a student might genuinely care for him. She had been feeling guilty all this time? Snape was quite glad that he had long learned to stifle guilt the moment it reared its ugly, suffocating head, or he wasn't sure what he would have done. Beg for further forgiveness? No, what was done, was done. And besides, it no longer mattered.

Daisy was leaving the wizarding world. Snape had dealt with the necessary paperwork himself, not trusting anyone – especially not Lucius – to not assort her withdrawal from the wizarding world with all sorts of conditions. So what he had or had not done no longer mattered. She forgave him for failing her and that could encompass many things. The gentle, reassuring squeeze of her shoulder as they stood outside of 4 Privet Drive was his way of saying goodbye before the door was thrown open and Daisy was pulled into the house.


Daisy didn't know what to do. Her mother was crying. She'd never seen her mother cry before, not like this, and not in front of a stranger. She couldn't have turned to look to anyone for help because her head was buried in her mother's chest where she had been pulled into a hug what felt like five minutes ago, and had yet to be let go. Daisy was at a loss.

"Mum," she tried, her voice muffled against her mother's blouse. "Are you okay?"

"Never better, darling," Petunia replied, kissing the top of Daisy's head. Once, twice, and then several more times. "Never better."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I almost lost you."

"Okay."

And so Daisy just let her mother hug her for however long they stood in the corridor, occasionally patting her mother's arm or murmuring that she was fine. Daisy heard her father exchanging a couple of words with Snape, and then her teacher was gone, and the front door closed once more with a grunted 'Good riddance'.

"Pet, you'll suffocate her," Vernon said, wrapping an arm around Petunia and slowly beginning to extricate his daughter from his wife's hold. "She's here – she's really here. Look, it's her – in the flesh. She's safe. It's okay. Let the rest of us say hello as well."

If she'd thought her mother's reaction was a little much, the last thing she expected was to have the wind knocked out of her as her brother wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his own hug, this one bordering on actual bone-crunching. It took her by surprise. Dudley was never one to voluntarily hug her, and certainly not of his own initiative. Thankfully, he didn't cry and it was a lot shorter than their mother's hug had been.

"You're all right," Dudley said, as he held her at arm's length, blue eyes narrowed as he checked for signs of damage. "You're okay."

"Yes, I am," she said simply. She really didn't know what else to say.

"Of course she's okay," Vernon said, beaming down at her. "She's a Dursley, isn't she? What do you say we all get out of the corridor and go and get started on dinner? Your mother's made all your favourites, and I for one, am starving."

"It's pretty much the only thing that's in the house - your favourites," Dudley informed her, but without the usual hint of bitterness that had usually accompanied such a declaration, as he led Daisy into the dining room. "And I've left you all the flavours in the Neapolitan, the last chocolate Cornetto, me and Dad got you this massive jar of sweets from this market up in London and I swear I only ate a few, and Mum made banana bread a couple of days ago and it's still just as awesome, and there's lasagne in the freezer, that beef stew you like for some reason in the fridge and we've even got oven chips if you fancy them. But Mum's made Sunday roast with all the trimmings and gravy and a massive chocolate cake for dinner."

"Sunday roast?" Daisy said incredulously. "It's Wednesday."

"And? You're home."

Daisy was more than a little overwhelmed. Dudley had never been so happy to see her, which felt really odd because in her mind she'd seen him just yesterday. Except that she hadn't. He had changed – taller and slightly slimmer perhaps - and the dining room certainly wasn't how she had last seen it. In her absence progress had been made on the renovation project to match the interior of the house to the current Dursley standing, which apparently involved a lot of white.

"Boy, get the table ready," Vernon said as they sat down, Petunia dabbing at her eyes with Vernon's handkerchief, unable to take her eyes off of Daisy. This brought Daisy's attention back to Harry, who had been hovering just out of the way, quiet as he always was in the house. He was giving her the same look as her mother and Dudley – in fact, he was grinning at her. He was happy to see her…?

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said before Daisy could say anything, ducking into the kitchen.

So Daisy turned to her mother instead. "Mum, please stop crying."

"These are happy tears, Daisy-bear," Petunia replied, still fighting with her tears to no avail. "I'm just so happy. And relieved. I thought – well, I thought the only things a mother could think in that kind of situation. But you're here, safe and whole. My two babies where they should be."

"She was like this when we brought you two home, you know," Vernon said, giving Petunia's hand a squeeze. "It was – what, six weeks before the due date? - when you two decided you were about ready to come out. You put your mother through a lot of grief even then. They had to keep you both in the hospital. Dudley mainly for observation, but you Daisy – you were this tiny little thing. You'd take these big breaths that looked like it took all your strength, but you never stopped. Always a little fighter you were. They put Dudley next to you so you wouldn't be alone. Apparently that really helps with twins. She needed her big brother to look out for her. You were in the hospital just over a fortnight. I had to work double shifts so I couldn't be there, but your mother watched over you two, day and night. The nurses were always complaining that she refused to get the sleep she needed. She was so strong. Never broke down or shed a tear – she was just determined to get you both home. And then when we finally did, and got you all tucked into your little beds, she just started crying. Wouldn't stop. I thought it was that post-natal rubbish they're always bleating on about. But no – that's just how much you two mean to her."

"Your father wouldn't pick you up for another week after we got you home, Daisy," Petunia added, the memory bringing a smile to her face, and slowing the ebb of tears. She grasped her husband's hand with both of hers, and in that moment all the tensions of the past months seemed to melt away, because no matter how increasingly little they saw eye to eye, nothing would change that they were the twins' parents. "You were still so tiny, and he was terrified he'd break you. Mind you, it didn't take long until he was throwing you in the air like Dudley, giving me all sorts of heart attacks. He dropped you on your head when you were two. We had to rush you to the hospital."

Vernon gave a laugh that earned him a playful slap on the arm. "Your mother didn't speak to me for a week."

"He treated you like a china doll after that, no matter how many times you shouted 'Daddy – fly!' as if you'd forgotten just how much your tumble hurt. He more than made up for it."

"Well, she's my little princess, isn't she?"

"Why do you never tell us stuff like that?" Dudley demanded, frowning at this new information, angry that he had been cheated of the knowledge that he'd always been Daisy's older brother and that this confusing instinct to protect her wasn't something new, or odd – that there was nothing wrong with him.

"You've never seemed interested in it before," Petunia explained, wiping away the last of her tears. "I guess you two really are growing up."

"Mum, please don't cry again," Daisy said warily. "Quick, Dudley, let's do something to make her unhappy."

"Dad bought a white rug for the living room," Dudley suggested. "We could put our wellies on, go stomp around in the garden and wipe our feet on that. Especially since it's just a bunch of mud where they've started digging to lay the foundation for the conservatory."

"Don't you dare!" Petunia snapped, as Daisy asked, "We're getting a conservatory?"

"First on Privet Drive," Vernon beamed, chest puffing out proudly. "I'll show you the mock up after dinner. Boy! Hurry up!"

Dinner was a jovial affair. Now that Dudley and Daisy were receptive to these stories, Petunia and Vernon seemed more than happy to regale them in childhood anecdotes that they'd been too young to remember or had simply forgotten about over time. She and Dudley had been a lot closer when they were younger than Daisy would have thought. As far as she could remember they'd been together yet separate, Dudley happier to call herself an older brother than a twin (especially when people stopped believing them without asking for proof or eyebrows shooting up surprise), and Daisy readily obliging. She hadn't known about them sleeping in the same cot because they refused to be apart, or wearing the same clothes for a short period when they were four – Daisy had always assumed that pictures in the photo albums when they were together was just a case of them being posed for the picture.

Harry was quiet throughout all of dinner. Daisy occasionally watched him, smiling when she caught his eye, but he would quickly duck his head back to his dinner, and she would be drawn back to the conversation as Vernon boomed with laughter remembering when Dudley had beaten up little Craig from down the street for laughing at the dress Dudley had taken to wearing for that week, or Dudley's demand that Daisy now had to take back all the times she'd said that he'd been dropped on his head as a child when he now had hard evidence to the contrary. Daisy had missed this; her family together and happy.

If she thought the house had continued to change in her absence as the consequence of continued renovations to match the interior to their current social standing, she hadn't expected that this change would extend to her bedroom, which had undergone a complete overhaul. The bunk bed had been swapped out for a four poster that took up most of the room with beautiful pink drapes framing white sheets, and a comforter with her name elaborately hand-stitched around an elegant smattering of daisies; in the corner sat a gleaming television, the protective film still on the screen; and the walls, now a light peach as opposed to their previous pink, were home to shelves neatly stacked with books that she thought her father had long thrown away and decorated with the trinkets she hadn't seen the last transformation of her room.

"Do you like it?" Dudley had asked, resting a podgy hand proudly on the oak bed frame. "Me and Dad worked on it together. He let me use the drill and everything, and Mum let us do the painting ourselves. I just – I knew you'd come home if we did it up nicely. I knew it."

"It's lovely," Daisy smiled, as she walked around the room, admiring the little touches no doubt left by her mother, like the vase of daisies next to the television or the numerous pillows decorating her bed. The new carpet felt like heaven under her feet. She stopped at the window, looking out at the orange-lit back street. "What's with the wiring? What is it keeping out? Did we get robbed?"

Dudley frowned at this question. "Don't you remember? You jumped out of the window."

"I did?" She mirrored her brother's expression. "Why didn't I just use the door?"

"Mum, you said she didn't remember some things," Dudley exclaimed, turning to their mother with an accusatory glare, "You didn't say she'd forgotten everything!"

"I haven't forgotten everything," Daisy said, still looking out of the window, as if she merely had amnesia and wasn't under the effects of a Memory Charm, and if she stared hard enough it might prompt her to remember. "Just everything since the morning of Christmas Eve. The Prophet said that I-"

"We can talk about it tomorrow," Petunia interrupted, reaching over Daisy to draw the curtains, and steering her daughter to the bed. "Why don't you get some rest, darling? Try out your new bed. You must be tired after your journey. You too, Dudley, it's been a long couple of weeks, and an eventful day. Get some decent sleep."

Dudley looked like he wanted to do no such things, but he conceded that now was not the moment, and Daisy followed suit, exchanging looks that made it clear that this conversation was far from over as they hugged goodnight.

"Are these from the Masons?" Daisy asked as she reached in the drawer for the blue pyjamas next to the pink dotted pair her mother pulled out for her, noticing the embroidery she had seen all summer. "When did I get these?"

"They were a Christmas present from Cheryl," Petunia said, though her mouth thinned suspiciously, and she subsequently launched herself into retting about straightening things up that were already in their place and fluffing up pillows that Daisy wasn't even going to sleep with. As she slipped into her pyjamas, keeping her back away from her mother with practised ease, Daisy wondered what the hell her mother was hiding. How much had happened that couldn't she remember?

"Where's Harry sleeping?" Daisy asked as she slipped under the covers, taking a moment to revel at the comfort money could buy. She felt like she'd sunk into a cloud.

"Downstairs."

"But you hate anyone sleeping on the sofa." Daisy caught something in Petunia's eye as she bounced a little on the bed, getting the feel for the mattress and then froze with realisation. "He's not on the sofa, is he, Mum? He's in the cupboard! You put him in the cupboard? Why? Why is he back there?"

"It's just until the renovations on the spare room are finished," Petunia tried to soothe, taking a seat next to her daughter, reaching out to smooth back her hair. "It's not like he can stay in here is it? He'll be up there in no time, darling, so don't you fret. He has everything he needs. Now – do you need anything? How about-"

"You're lying," Daisy said coldly, moving away from her mother's touch. Just because she wasn't going to be a witch anymore, how could they just decide to go back on everything that had changed? They had only just started making it up to him! "He's there because you want him there. How could you? Does he even fit in there anymore? Why? Why would you do this to him? He's family! He-"

"HE CAME BACK AND YOU DIDN'T!" Daisy shrunk back at her mother's reply. Petunia instantly regretted it, and immediately reached over to offer any semblance of comfort to Daisy, who thankfully did not flinch. "I'm sorry, darling – I shouldn't have shouted at you. I know it's not always easy to understand but I want you to try. Can you do that for me, Daisy-bear? Can you try and understand that when he came back and you didn't, that your father and I… You are my baby, my little darling girl - my everything - and I almost lost you to that world, and Harry was that constant reminder of all the things that have hurt me. Beyond the people in this house, I have no other family because of that world, and I couldn't bear – and your father couldn't – and Dudley, he –" Petunia broke off, unable to articulate the pain she had felt, the distress, the anger and the unfairness of it all. All her emotions around the matter seemed to boil down to: how dare Lily's son come back to her and not her baby? "Darling, you have to understand. Please."

Daisy wanted to rant. She didn't understand. She couldn't. She didn't understand anything that had happened since she walked through the doors, only just wrapping her head around their reactions to her return by trying to imagine how she would feel if Dudley disappeared for a month and she had no idea where he was. Yet even that didn't justify putting Harry in a cupboard. But Daisy nodded instead, letting her mother pull her close once more.


Daisy had never imagined that she would be leaving Hogwarts.

Actually, that was a lie. She had known very early on that her mother wouldn't hesitate to remove her from the school if she ever found out the extent of the bullying she'd suffered at the hands of the Slytherin Purebloods. She had known that this would be something that would definitely happen if her parents got wind of the Chamber of Secrets being opened. She just hadn't counted on it actually happening. Technically, she hadn't been a student since sometime in January, but she didn't remember being withdrawn the first time around, so it was only just beginning to sink in. And this time, there was no doubt as to whether her parents had been compelled or not. Professor Snape had apparently checked for compulsion charms when he accepted their withdrawal.

And now she was curled up on the sofa with her mother looking at brochures for private schools, occasionally murmuring her agreement that, yes it would be nice to get back into dancing and no, she didn't mind if she didn't have her own horse. Before her Hogwarts letter, Daisy would have been ecstatic that the number of private schools she could attend were now infinite, no longer determined by how many extra hours her father could take on or which school could offer her a scholarship, but the prospect of attending a top-tier private school with a pretty much guaranteed place at the university of her choice had somehow lost its shine. She was going back to being Daisy Dursley, daughter of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, sister to Dudley Dursley. Granted, it sounded a lot better than 'Harry Potter's cousin, the Slytherin Mudblood', but for some reason it didn't feel quite as special. She hated herself for thinking it, but the former was just so… Muggle.

"Daisy-bear, are you alright?" Petunia asked, giving her daughter a concerned look when Daisy didn't respond.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mum," Daisy reassured, snuggling in closer to her mother, accepting the kiss pressed to the top of her head. "There's just so many to choose from – it's a bit overwhelming. I think Cobham Hall is my favourite so far. I'm not going to Mrs Mason's alma mater. I'm not swapping robes for gingham."

"We should still visit both of them, just to get a feel – and to be polite. What do you think? We also have to think about the possibility of you eventually going Full Board or if you want to come home at the weekends like Dudley or if you'd prefer to be a Day student."

"Whatever you want, Mum."

"Then how about Farlington?" Petunia said, holding up the brochure with the customary happy-looking girls sitting outside on the green in front of the historic red brick buildings. "You could come home every day in that case. There's a school bus or I could drop you off and pick you up every day."

"I suppose I can live with tartan," Daisy smiled, picking up the brochure and leafing through it, every now and then making sounds of appreciation and reading out an interesting quote to give the impression that she was just as excited to be attending a "normal" school.

Honestly, she didn't care. Daisy would have happily gone to Stonewall High, or would accept whatever hideous uniform came with whatever school that would make her mother happy. Anything that would eventually stop her mother's need to check where she was every hour on the hour, or the tiptoeing around her to make sure that nobody mentioned anything that Daisy couldn't remember, Hogwarts or anything to do with magic just in case it triggered something. It was irritating, and bordering on neurotic, but she now understood. Daisy understood that she couldn't understand what it was like to have someone she cared about go missing for almost a month, turn up traumatised and tortured and only have them be returned once their memory was wiped. So she went along with everything with minimal fuss and a reassuring smile. Apart from being confused, she was fine. Apparently she should be grateful that she couldn't remember anything anyway.

Governor Malfoy, the Psyche Healer and Madam Pomfrey had decided that it was best if her memory stayed gone. Daisy had vehemently protested at first, arguing that the state she had arrived in couldn't have been that bad until Professor Snape had snarled at her, that yes, it had been that bad, and that this instance was the only one in which Lockhart's use of the Memory Charm was actually kind, even if it remained entirely selfish. She would have remained unconvinced if she hadn't caught the dark look that had crossed his features before he got a hold of himself. The amount of emotion he'd displayed that day had been odd and continually unsettling. So Daisy, reluctantly, let it drop, contenting herself with what little Madam Pomfrey and the Daily Prophet could tell her. However, she remained suspicious of this decision, especially in light of conversations with her brother. Against their mother's wishes, he'd slowly brought her up to speed on things that had happened before her disappearance – as much as he could tell her at least.

Now there were so many unanswered questions buzzing around in her mind, distracting her when she tried to do normal things like watch television or read or watch Dudley slay a bunch of zombies on his latest game. Why had she jumped out of the window? Well – she now knew that her parents had locked her in the house – but then why had she been so desperate to get back to Hogwarts? True, being withdrawn from Hogwarts would have put any plans on finding the Chamber of Secrets permanently on hold, but it hadn't been that important to her – or had it? The theory that Lockhart had lured her out with her family under threat didn't sit well with her either. At the time she was certain Lockhart was an idiot. What could he have possibly threatened that had lured her out? Had he revealed himself as the Heir of Slytherin? No, it couldn't be. Gilderoy Lockhart could not be the Heir of Slytherin. She refused to believe. What if she'd jumped out of the window to defy her father? From what Dudley told her, Daisy had pulled out every trick that she could in order to get her parents to change their mind. Dudley was even convinced that she'd made a branch fall on Dad's brand new company car. What if Lockhart had gotten to her when she got to Hogwarts – however she managed that? But then, what had been so urgent that she needed to get to Hogwarts?

"Mum, I think I've got a headache coming on," Daisy said, feeling the familiar pulsing ache whenever she tried too hard to remember. She'd tried to push past it, to reach past this imaginary barrier and just remember to no avail. All she got for her efforts was a throbbing headache and no answers to her endless questions. "I'm going to have a lie down."

Pausing at Harry's door, she kept going when she heard her mother calling that she would bring her up an aspirin in a moment. Petunia didn't approve of Daisy talking to Harry, but Daisy had finally been able to talk to him when he was settled in the spare room, stealing a few minutes every now and then away from her mother's prying eyes. Her parents were adamant that there be no talk of Hogwarts and the wizarding world at all, but Daisy thought this was ridiculous; she'd already accepted she wasn't going back. Dudley had explained that their parents were just finding it hard to believe that she was truly accepting of the circumstances given her reaction the first time round, and would most likely remain anxious until she was back in a normal school and too late for her temper tantrums about belonging in the wizarding world to have any effect. Even so, Daisy still hadn't quite figured out how treating Harry poorly had anything to do with anything.

"I'm sorry about them," Daisy said, later that evening, when she found a moment in between dinner and bedtime to sneak into his bedroom, Dudley on his computer games and her parents having a heated after discussion over ice cream and coffee. He was sitting at the small desk tucked under the window, and she enveloped him in a hug, glad she was the one surprising someone else with affection and not the other way around. "I was thinking that I could have a word with Mum about the chores - if you want. I could help out – I mean, you're going to be going back to you-know-where any time soon, so I'll have to pick up the slack, and if Dad's shirts are anything to go by, I haven't the foggiest how anything in this house works. I honestly thought it was only red things that ran in the wash. I'll get him to stop calling you 'boy' as well. You have a name, for goodness sake. You must be glad to be back upstairs though. How do you like the bed? I convinced Dudley to convince Dad to get a decent mattress in case we actually have guests over. And-"

"Daisy," Harry interrupted as Daisy spiralled into one of her rambles. "It's fine." He took her hand in his, and left his seat so that they could sit on the bed. "Like I told you before, I'm just relieved your back. Things aren't so bad when you're around."

She gave a hollow laugh. "I never thought I'd see the day when you missed having me around." She gave his hand a squeeze, running a thumb over the back of it. She found herself comparing them to her own. His hands were calloused and peppered with small childhood scars, remnants of Harry hunting; hers had changed to resemble his, bearing scars she'd gotten over her absence as well as the remnants of Daisy hunting. Their hands were a similar shape, long and agile, inherited from their mothers, perfect for things like piano playing and wrapping around Snitches. She'd never noticed. Daisy shook herself out of her reverie to look at him. "Are you really okay though? Not just with things here, I mean. Are you sleeping okay? Before I came back, I read in the Prophet that-"

He cut her off again, dark brows knitting together in a frown. "I don't want to talk about that, Daisy. I'm fine. And Aunt Petunia wouldn't be happy if she found out I was talking to you about this."

"Mum isn't here, is she? And I don't want to go back to Hogwarts, Harry," Daisy reassured him. "I don't care that you are. I'm not jealous of you. What's to be jealous of? You may be Heir to House Potter, but I am Vernon Dursley's daughter and here that actually means something. No stupid Slytherins I can't take care of – I just dare someone to mess with me at my new school. I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me about stuff that happen at Hogwarts, Harry. As far as I'm concerned it's just your school, just like Dudley goes Smeltings and I'm probably going Farlington."

"I just don't want to talk about it."

"If you're sure." She ran her other hand through his hair, worried for him, but she'd had enough experience with her brother to know that there were some things not to be pushed at. Harry's eyes closed, leaning into her affections. Daisy sighed. "I should go."

"You don't have to keep checking up on me, you know?" Harry said, instead of the 'Don't go, please' that was threatening to rise up from where it was lodged in the back of his throat. "I'm fine."

"I know," Daisy smiled as she stood up, "but, no matter what happens – even if Lockhart has another go at my memories – I'll never forget that you were nice to me when Dad hated my guts, Mum couldn't even look at me and I didn't know I could lean on Dudley. You could have made my life hell at Hogwarts if you wanted to, but you didn't. You were there for me. So I'm going to be there for you."

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't there for you. I let you down. I never looked out for you – not once. I was too wrapped up in my pride, and I should have helped you the way you wanted to. If I'd told you about hearing the snake, if I'd spent more time with you in the dungeons or something, one of us would have figured it out. If I had done my job properly, you wouldn't have had to make up the whole Heir business and Lockhart-"

This time it was Daisy who stopped Harry in his tirade. He had stopped looking at her, his green eyes downcast and fixated on the hands on his lap. "Harry. Harry, look at me. Listen to these words carefully because I am only ever going to be this honest with you once. If I had known there was a great big snake in the school that you could control, I would have somehow had it eat most of the Slytherins, and then let you take the blame for it. And if he somehow managed to escape being eaten, Lockhart would have probably still tried to kill me because as far as I was concerned, he was an incompetent fool, and you know what Dad says about incompetent fools – you get rid of them. Quirell showed us last year what happens when you don't. Oh, and there was a plan involving Draco Malfoy ending up impaled on a spike or a few dozen – you might have taken the blame for that one too. I mean, Lucius Malfoy doesn't strike me as the kind to take the loss of his only son lightly. So really, Harry – don't feel too bad."

She gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder, her sweet smile purposely incongruous to what she had just said. If she expected him to look horrified, she was disappointed: Harry seemed to perk up and look happier than when she'd said nice things to him.

"You know," he said as he stood up, "you're really sweet when you want to be."

"What do you mean 'sweet'?" Daisy demanded, "Did you listen to a single word I said?"

"Yes, of course. You said 'Harry, please don't feel guilty because there was nothing you could have done, and so because I really care about you here is my attempt to make you try and hate me instead of feeling bad'." He turned her around, and pushed her to the door by her shoulders. Whatever Daisy was going to say was silenced by the hug he pulled her in, his mess of dark hair tickling her cheek. "It's nice to know you care, Daisy. You should know though that I don't want to hate you. Or Aunt Petunia. I've known you all long enough."

Daisy sighed. "If I were you, I would hate me. I would hate all of us. I would have poisoned us. I would have destroyed this family if I were you." She sighed again. "I don't understand how you don't hate us."

"Yes, you do," he said softly. "Why are you still talking to Uncle Vernon? He was horrible to you. If it wasn't for the Masons, he probably would have carried on pretending like you didn't exist. And I heard what Dudley told you – how he locked you in your room. How he could still do it if you wanted to. You can lock your door from the outside now, and the fact that your window is the only one in the house with wires isn't hard to miss. But do you hate him?"

Daisy shook her head. "He's…he's my Dad, Harry. He's my family."

"Exactly."

"Oh," Daisy breathed as she understood what he was getting at. "We're your family."

"The only one I've got." He pulled away suddenly, clearing his voice as he put space between them. He didn't look at her again, returning to his seat at the desk, his back to her as he said, "Goodnight, Daisy."

"Goodnight, Harry."

The conversation haunted Daisy well into the night, as she stared at the wall where she knew his room to be. For all her talk of Harry being family and needing to be treated right, the idea that Harry considered them to be family had never really sunk in. She'd assumed that he was just happy to have her back because her family was nicer to him when she was around, but therein was the problem: she considered them to be her family – and Harry. She'd never been close to him growing up, so when they Hogwarts letter brought them together, she called him her cousin because that's what he was, but in her head he was more like a really friend. Her first wizarding friend. But Harry was her family, and her family was Harry's. And in the real sense of the word, not just when it benefited her.

The sky was beginning to lighten when she came to the crushing realisation that she was just like her father. When Harry inconvenienced her, she was more than happy to cut him out of her life, but when she needed him, for something or other that was mostly selfish, he was the greatest cousin in the world, a title she had also given Lucas on her ninth birthday to convince him to push her brother head-first into his cake. Was she a bad person? Was her father a bad person? Was Harry the only good person in the family? Did that mean he wasn't family? Her Mum wasn't a full-blooded Dursley – so why was she like them – her, Dudley and Dad – who had Dursley pulsing through their veins? Or did blood really have nothing to do with anything? Or were things just not that simple?

By the time her mother's head appeared at her door to signal her five am 'Is Daisy still here?' check, Daisy had decided to never think of such things again. Instead, she resolved to ask her father which of the schools her mother had short-listed he could have the most influence at because plotting her ascent to Head Girl or figuring out if she was still being paired up with Nick Mason, was a whole lot easier than calling into question who she was.

She was Daisy Dursley. That was all she needed to worry about.


"Dudley?"

"Yah?"

The three teenagers were lounging around the living room, in varying degrees of relaxation, watching television. Vernon was currently at work and Petunia had stepped out to get some groceries with strict instructions that they weren't to leave the house under any circumstances. Dudley had received a rare cuff around the back of the head when he dared to ask what they were meant to do if the house set on fire.

Harry enjoyed this down time between chores, happily helping the twins to polish off the cakes Petunia made at astonishing rates and showed no apparent desire to slow down her baking to reflect the fact that there were only four other people in the house, not forty. The cakes needed to be eaten and there was only so much cake Dudley could eat, even if it was a lot, so Harry helped the baked goods disappear. Even if sometimes he went to bed with an upset stomach at least it wasn't an empty one.

"Shouldn't you be back at school?" Daisy asked. A conversation with her father the night before about the Masons had brought her attention to the fact that Dudley was missing an awful load of school, whilst Nick was apparently excelling at Smeltings. According to her father, Nick found the Smeltings sticks to be 'highly educational'.

Dudley turned from the bowl of sweet goodness balanced on his stomach to cast a cold look at his sister. "You bored of me already?"

The question was a simple one but something inside Daisy froze. She shouldn't have said anything. "No, of course not! It's just that I wouldn't want you to be missing school because of me. I didn't mean – I – I'm sorry! I - forget that I asked."

Harry exchanged a meaningful look with Dudley at Daisy's reaction. "Daisy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Daisy said, forcing herself to relax and let go of the blanket currently clenched in her hand, and to gain some control the sudden panic that sometimes gripped her for no reason at all. "Sorry, I –" She scolded herself for the continuous apologies, shaking her head and forcing a smile. "What about you then, Harry? Do you know when you're going back?"

"I figure we're going to get letters if and when school reopens," Harry shrugged. "Aunt Petunia looked getting me into Stonewall if it comes down to it but I guess they'll tell us what our options are. I don't mind either way. As much as I love you-know-where, I… I kinda don't want to be the odd one out. Again. It'd be cool if we were just all one kind of normal, you know?"

Daisy nodded distractedly, "Yeah."

Dudley, who had learned what it was like to be the odd one out, vocalised none of the comments that were floating around in his mind in regards to Harry's freakishness and how he wasn't part of the family anyway so it didn't matter. Instead he went back to watching television – or pretending he was. He was busy watching his sister out the corner of his eye; her posture had stiffened, her jaw was clenched tightly, and her hands would slowly unfurl only to curl back up into fists. Dudley had noticed that she had odd reactions like this to perfectly normal things sometimes – it was hard not to. She'd never been so jumpy and tense before, and there were times when she apologised for the oddest things when usually, getting an apology out of her when she had done something wrong was near impossible. Dudley was beginning to think that maybe she did remember what had happened to her, just not consciously, or maybe she just wasn't telling them. He was also beginning to think he'd have to make a list of all the people he was going to tear limb from limb with his bare hands for hurting his little sister because they were growing too many for him to remember.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a tapping on the window. Harry opened the window and two owls swooped in, one landing on the coffee table and the other landing on the arm of Daisy's seat, holding out its leg expectantly to her.

"It must be confirmation that I'm no longer a student," Daisy sighed, turning over the envelope in her hand, running a thumb along the looped dark green handwriting on the thick yellow parchment.

As much as she'd liked to complain about it (and tell Parkinson that the kind paper you got in the Muggle world was no different to parchment - and maybe even better than their stupid antiquated writing instruments), she was going to miss using parchment. That, and writing with a quill. Though perhaps not the ink splodges. And constantly having to sharpen it. Or running out of ink. However, she had begun to get the hang of knowing how much ink would get her through the term, or knowing that it didn't matter what you wrote your History of Magic essay on because Binns probably wouldn't read it or wouldn't care. Not that any of that mattered now.

This was the last Hogwarts letter she'd ever get. This was really it. This was the end of a short but eventful era. No more magic. Despite everything she'd said about not wanting to go back and not caring about Hogwarts, she found herself wishing that she'd just had a bit more time – she hated the thought of the Pureblood Slytherins who had tormented her winning. They'd gotten what they wished for; the Slytherin Muggleborn was gone.

Slowly, she opened the letter as Harry ushered the owls out.

Dear Miss Dursley,

We are pleased to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be re-opening its doors on the 21st March. The Hogwarts Express will be departing from King's Cross Station at its usual time unless you wish to make other travel arrangement. If there are any problems concerning this return date, please address your concerns to Professor Flitwick.

We look forward to your return,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

What the-? This wasn't the letter she had been expecting. There had to be some sort of mistake.

"Guess I'm going back in a week and a bit," Harry said, from his corner over the room, his own letter in hand. "Hurrah."

"I know…" Daisy said, reading the words over again to make sure she had read it right the first time. "For some reason, I got the same letter. There must have been a mix up."

"Let me see," Dudley said, wiping chocolate-covered hands on his trousers before holding out his hand expectantly.

"Hold on, there's another letter." This one bore the Ministry insignia, recognising the imposing 'M' from the letter that had warned her and Harry about use of magic last summer. This had to be the letter confirming her withdrawal from the wizarding world.

Dear Miss Dursley,

In accordance with the Muggleborn Protection Act (1993), all Muggleborns born in the British Isles or to British parents are invited to register with the Ministry of Magic. The primary aim of this measure is to enable to Ministry to provide a greater scope of protection for its Muggleborn citizens, with hopes of bringing a long-term end to the violence and discrimination perpetrated against an important part of our population.

All Muggleborns between the age of eleven and seventeen must attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Exemptions to this may be granted on a case-by-case basis by the Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Application for exemption can be made upon registration. Details of the registration process can be found below.

We look forward to your visit.

Lucius Malfoy,

Head of the Muggleborn Welfare Division


A/N: Canon? What is canon? Update? What is update? Ha. Does this chapter count as a fluffy chapter? It was originally much shorter and kind of just summarised Daisy's return, but then I realised that I love Snape, I love (writing) the Dursleys and trying to make Harry as fleshed out as possible is very important to me. I'm not quite sure yet how not facing a Basilisk or saving Ginny's life or having Daisy around is going to impact on his personality, but I want to make sure any changes make sense. Maybe this Harry won't have a 'people-saving thing' because he has a 'what will Aunt Petunia say' thing. Who knows? Another thing that is very, very important to me is making Lucius Malfoy the next Dark Lord. I may or may not be serious.

On a completely unrelated note, has anyone ever read a serious Fanfiction where Dudley is a Dark Lord? Or Ron, actually?

But enough of my rambling! Thank you for reading, and I absolutely love hearing from you guys so be sure to leave a review! Until next time.