Chapter Six
In the end, their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was destroyed, they were all in detention for the foreseeable future, they had lost an enormous amount of House Points, and she still couldn't bring herself to regret a thing. It had been one of the best days in her life. Both lives. The adrenaline rush she had gotten? Wow. She'd forgotten how much she loved fighting just for the sake of fighting. She'd been so concerned with maintaining her image, first to keep a peaceful relationship with the Dursleys, then to keep up her good reputation in Slytherin that she hadn't properly unwind in a long, long time. It was like she had scratched an irritating itch she hadn't even noticed she had.
The rest of the Slytherins didn't seem to regret it either. Sure, they've lost their considerable lead in points gained from the Quidditch game against Gryffindor and with it their guarantee of victory, but they'd gotten the lions good. The growing wilder with each retelling rumor about the twins was circulating well, they were the lowest in term off House Points and they had had their butts kicked. What more could they want?
The rest of November is relatively calm, and on the 9th of December she signs up to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas Holidays. A couple of days later, she almost dies laughing when she spots the Weasley twins bewitching snowballs to follow Quirrell and bounce off the back of his turban. Her friends are left baffled by her reaction, but she now had a precious memory she thought would work well for when she would have to cast a Patronus. After all, those two idiots were unknowingly hitting the face of Voldemort himself!
December 21th was their second trip to Hogsmeade, just as uneventful as the first on the 26th of October. She stocks up on stationery at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, gets sweets from Honeydukes as Christmas gifts for acquaintances, buys a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish at Spintwitches Sporting Needs for her broom, avoided Zonko's Joke Shop and Madam's Puddifoot's Tea Shop with extreme prejudice, ducked into Gladrags Wizardwear with Ava for a minute, and had to be dragged out of Tomes and Scrolls by the back of her coat along with Kyle by James. With the Three Broomsticks Inn being overcrowded by other students, they enjoy their Butterbeers on a fallen log by the Shrieking Shack.
When they come back to Hogwarts after a long and cold day, the Great Hall had been transformed. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung from the walls and twelve Christmas trees towered around the room all either sparkling with tiny icicles or glittering with hundreds of candles. One of them had golden bubbles trailing over its branches. From the enchanted ceiling fell snowflakes that disappeared a few inches from Hagrid's head. It was a spectacular sight. A sight that never failed to awaken her long-forgotten Harry Potter fan enthusiasm. To think she could see this for real and not just in her imagination or on the screen!
The next day, they sneak out again to celebrate the winter solstice. This time they don't party in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. The poor gathered in large gatherings in the houses of their neighbours for the celebration, but she had the dubious luck of being Kyle plus one when he wanted to avoid the rich pureblood girls his parents keep pushing at him. As such, she was invited to the poshest parties thrown by the snobbiest of the wizarding nobility. Wearing a fancy custom-tailored dress ordered weeks in advance, she waltzed the night away slightly drunk on the best of champagne, first with Kyle, then with James who was Ava's escort, and then with several of her other male classmates who had received one of the highly coveted invitations to the decorated in tasteful and elegant decorations for the occasion Malfoy Manor. Ambrosius was a brilliant dancer, and Narcissa was as gracious a host as the previous year. She hadn't been insulted once for her lowly birth in her hearing. Against all expectations, she had fun.
The term ends on the 23rd and she's left almost all alone in the Snake Pit. Not many Slytherins opt to remain during holidays, often preferring to spend their two weeks of freedom traveling to warmer and drier parts. The Zabinis were going to their Italian villa, Avery was off to some sandy beach, Kyle and Ava were accompanying their parents on a business trip to India, and even the Malfoys were in France the day after their winter solstice gala to visit relatives. James, who had been planning on keeping her company, had a last-minute decision change too and had returned to his family ranch to help out with a sudden sickness spreading through their Abraxan herd.
She spends her days lazing about with a good book in front of the fireplace. She takes walks outside several times a day, bemoaning the Scottish winter. She missed real cold. At one point, on a whim, she transfigured herself toe-picked blades out of fallen branches and entertains herself by marking designs into the ice of the frozen solid Black Lake to the confusion of some purebloods and half-bloods who didn't know what figure skating was. They don't believe her when she tells them that some muggles could spin up to four times in the air when jumping. She could do barely one without falling, and it was not a full rotation.
On Christmas morning, she wakes up to a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. Kyle had sent her Vindictus Viridian's Curses and Counter-Curses with a note saying that if she insisted on getting into fights with brainless Gryffindors this book was indispensable. Amidst its pages, there was a metal bookmark, engraved to resemble a snake with onyxes for eyes.
From Ava, she had received a pair of beautiful silver earrings with large dangling emeralds and several smaller diamonds. Insanely expensive, but pocket change for a Nott. Zabini too had sent her an emerald brooch that paired well with the earrings as a present.
Her female friends were determined to fill up her jewelry box to what they considered acceptable for a lady of her status. Her mother might have been a mere muggle-born, they repeated to her often, but her father was a Potter. And green stones, they also said, suited her the most. Along with the emerald, she had a growing collection of green tourmaline, green sapphire, dark opals, and peridot. No matter how much she complained, they refused to listen. Until they were satisfied, she was stuck accepting them, because rejecting gifts is rude. You have an image and a reputation to maintain, they reminded her, so give up your futile resistance. We're doing this for you because we understand that you have to rely on a trust fund you share with your brother for money until you are off age.
James' present was a delicate statue of an Abraxan made of crystal, which walked gracefully around its platform, occasionally stretching its wings. His note said the herd was getting better. It was only a strain of the common flu that happened to be a little more resistant to spells and potions.
Even Avery had sent her a pretty ring with silver roses, diamonds, and an emerald centerpiece, though she meant it more as a nasty reminder of the money she had and that Dahlia didn't.
It might seem extensive, for children to give each other such luxurious gifts, but again, it was all about reputation. They were showing their families had money to spend, and anything that seemed cheap would be considered as penny-pinching and an insult by their associates. It was all part of the game, and she tried her best to keep up, going as far as to cheating a tad. In wizarding society, most things were handmade with magic. But however handy it was, magic still can't keep up with muggle mass production. It meant she could get things off the same quality – if not of magical nature – but much cheaper if she did her Christmas shopping in advance during summer vacation in Muggle London. As long as they didn't know it was muggle-made she could get away with her trick.
Nonetheless, even with her ruse, she couldn't afford anything for herself whenever she left like it and tried wasting money on superfluous things only on birthdays and important celebrations for her closest friends. Living surrounded by the rich while being poor sucked. It wasn't as if Harry knew what money management was either, and he wouldn't take kindly to her controlling how much he could spend. Thank god, he wasn't one for excessive buying and had a semblance of control. Another kid would have been spending left and right if he'd gotten unlimited access to a bank vault full of gold. She could only hope the main family vault was as filled as she had been led to believe, and if it wasn't… Well, she'd been secretly setting aside a small sum of gold into her own newly open vault that should tide her over until she found a steady job.
The last of her presents after the obligatory classy sweets from various acquaintances was from the Dursleys. Unwrapping a box of Aunt Petunia's neighbourhood-known chocolate cookies, she bites into one with relish. She'd worked hard to have a reasonably nice relationship with her relatives. From her part, she had owled them a St. Honore Cake she'd learned how to bake in her past life along with the inoffensive Drooble's Best Blowing Gum for Dudley the previous night. Hopefully, it would arrive in time for breakfast.
Still, despite her lavish gifts from her friends, she's disappointed she hadn't received anything from Harry. Regardless of their recent troubles with each other, she had nevertheless sent him a Quidditch Through the Ages. She'd hoped Christmastime would work its magic and he would forgive her. She should have known he was far too stubborn for that.
When he ignores her during the Christmas dinner, she gives up and does her best to enjoy the evening. The tables were laden with hundreds of fat turkeys, mountains of boiled potatoes, platters of chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy, and cranberry sauce. For dessert, they had flaming Christmas puddings with buried Sickles and frothy eggnog. Every few feet were stacks of wizard crackers which were nothing like their muggle counterparts. They exploded into clouds of blue smoke and went off cannon-loud and there were no little plastics toys or flimsy paper hats inside. Instead, they concealed live mice, non-explodable and luminous balloons, grow-your-own-warts kits, and much more. She gives everything she gets, including the wizard chess set, but not the cute witch hat with the jingling bells, to a happy Hufflepuff firstie. She enjoyed the crackers, but she had no use for most of the surprises.
She laughs when a drunk Hagrid kisses Professor McGonagall on the cheek and toasts Professor Snape with the five Slytherins that had stayed at Hogwarts for the holiday. An older Ravenclaw gets into a debate with her about unconventional uses for some charms. Professor Flitwick interrupts them and excitedly joins in.
By the time she returns to the Common Room, she's forgotten all about Harry and his pig-headedness. A sixth-year had smuggled in Firewhisky during the Hogsmeade trip and he shares it cheerfully with the rest of them. She introduces them to Never Have I Ever, and they introduce her to Drunk Transfiguration in return. Professor Snape comes in at one point, only to turn right back around when he sees them clustered around a coffee tables with increasingly bizarre and luridly-colored objects, giggling madly. They were clearly plastered, but as long as they kept it to the Pit and away from the rest of the school, they weren't his problem according to his philosophy on dealing with teenagers.
It ultimately devolves to them sitting messily on the ground in a circle, passing a bottle around, and describing what exactly they'd enjoy doing to specific Gryffindors in vivid detail. They weren't nice about it. The Weasley twins were mentioned often. Percy too. He was a pompous prat. Jordan, who should have never have been allowed to become a commentator for the Quidditch games if he couldn't help insulting them every time they played, and most of their team… They'd get expelled immediately if they ever acted on their wishes, but it was nice to fantasize. Every day, they had to constantly keep in mind that they couldn't get away with as much as Dumbledore's favored golden lions. It gets frustrating after a while, and they appreciated having the excuse of having indulged in too much alcohol to finally vent their grievances.
Grimmett breaks the mold by admitting she would have liked to snog Charlie Weasley. She agrees, he had been a prime male specimen. He reminded her a lot of Richard Madden with redder and straighter hair, less beard, and more freckles. Definitely the best looking in his family. He had also been unusually nice to her for a Gryffindor. Before the Quidditch dispute, they hadn't respected her because they had believed as a Potter, she should have belonged to their House, not to the one of their ancient foes. For being sorted into Slytherin, she had been branded as a traitor. A slimy traitor which was somehow worse in their tiny minds.
Someone must have eventually remembered she's physically thirteen and can't hold her liquor that well when she says something not age-appropriate about Lucius Malfoy's ass – arse, damn British – because she's shooed off to bed early. She goes grudgingly. Who the hell knows when she'll get another chance to properly drink again?
When they finally emerge from their dorms, several hours after breakfast time had passed and altogether wretched-feeling, they exchange glances and collectively mentally agree to never mention the previous evening again.
They do toast Professor Snape for a second time when they find several goblets of smoking Hangover-Cure Potion in the Common Room.
Endless rain replaces the heart-breaking Scottish snow – seriously, give her a two-meter-thick snowdrift any day – and the term resumes. They return to roaming the halls in packs, taking pot-shots at Gryffindors. Their first Defense Against the Darks lesson is delayed after the Toad – a ghostly friend of Peeves – covers the classroom in ectoplasm. She spots Hermione in the Library with arms full of history books, so that was one thing less to worry about. Malfoy the Younger practices his Leg-Locker Curse on Neville Longbottom. She rolls her eyes and helps the poor kid once the snakelet was gone. Normally, she was all for a healthy rivalry between their Houses, but Longbottom was that pathetic. She dearly hopes he will grow into the man she knew he could be, but meanwhile, she suggests he sticks to his older Housemates when not in their Den. The boy eyes her mistrustfully and she wonders what exactly Harry had been telling his friends about her.
February 1st is Imbolg, a festival marking the beginning of spring. Since it was mainly celebrated in smaller family gatherings, she stays at Hogwarts, only lighting a candle to burn through the night and pouring a bowl of milk into the muddy ground outside as an offering.
Professor Snape does not referee the next Quidditch match, since he had no reason to. Hufflepuff doesn't quite cream Gryffindor, but they do well. James crows loudly about the lions' useless Seeker when retelling the game to her. Several of her housemates come by to pat her on the shoulder in gratitude with wide smiles. Flint goes as far as publicly presenting her with a box of expensive chocolate in the Entrance Hall in front of the Gryffindor team. They've seen Harry practicing on the pitch with Wood in preparation for the next year. They understood they'd barely dodged a bullet Killing Curse there, thanks to her intervention.
The game had gone on for several hours, and she dimly recalls something about five minutes and black eyes and Longbottom taking on Crabbe and Goyle single-handedly. Hearing nothing about a fight, she shrugs it off and continues about her day. Couldn't have been anything important, or she'd have had it written down in her journal. Unless she'd missed something vital again, but there was nothing she could do about it in that case. An eidetic memory was not a gift she possessed, unfortunately. It was a miracle already she remembered as much as she did about a storyline she'd last revisited two decades ago.
She hears Ron telling off people for laughing at Quirrell's stutter and has to stifle her own snicker. Half of Slytherin were betting on whether it was real or faked, with most in favor for the latter. The man wasn't that decent of an actor, and as accomplished liars themselves, they got good at spotting others.
Ostara happens, right about when the teachers pile on an incredible amount of homework on them. The Easter holidays are much less pleasant than the Christmas ones. She and her friends spend most of them hiding out in their abandoned wing studying frantically. If only she'd been reborn in a world where she could have gone to a muggle school where she already knew the subjects. Arithmancy was similar enough to normal maths, and Ancient Runes weren't that bad with her experience in languages, but Herbology and Potions could be deadly if one didn't pay attention. Consider Devil's Snares, a plant capable of strangling a giant. Also, first-year material.
She is not looking forward to her O.W.L.s, much less her N.E.W.T.s if third-year was making her that stressed.
Beltain is a breath of fresh air. Literally. Similar to Samhain, they feast on wild magic in an empty pasture, dancing around bonfires. Girls and women are showered with dew to bring beauty and maintain youthfulness. She returns with a crown of yellow flowers in her hair which she preserves with a spell. It'll last her a long time.
The entire festival never fails to feel ironic to her. Before being called Death Eaters, Voldemort's followers were named the Knights of Walpurgis after a Christian feast happening on the same day. Muggles would pray to Saint Walpurga to protect them from witchcraft. In some places, they would erect bonfires with a witch puppet and burn them. Sudden black and dense smoke formations are cheered as 'a witch flying away'. How the man's ever gotten purebloods to actually believe in his ideologies was a mystifying thought.
Nine days later, they wake up to twenty points gone from their hourglass and a hundred fifty points less in the Gryffindor one. She groans when she sees it. Something was telling her Harry had been involved.
Malfoy the Younger was all too happy to explain how it happened after classes in their Snake Pit.
"A dragon." His cousin repeats disbelievingly. "That groundskeeper's oaf was raising a dragon. In his flammable hut."
"I've seen it." Malfoy the Younger boasts. "Black with horns and those great bulging, orange eyes…"
"That sounds like a Norwegian Ridgeback." James – the most knowledgeable in all thing beast – states, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. "They're venomous."
Bole blinks thoughtfully. "Isn't the youngest weasel in the Hospital Wing for a weird bite?"
Pucey grins at his teammate. "How much you wanna bet the dragon's the cause?"
"No bet." Flint throws his arms around their shoulders. "They're Gryffindors. They've never learned not to tickle the sleeping dragon."
Sitting on a nearby couch, she feels like banging her head on a table. "Don't tell me my little brother decided that instead of going to a teacher for help, he'll try to get rid of the dragon himself?"
Oh, she knew all about Norbert(a). Problem was, she couldn't recollect when it had happened and had to let it play out without her assistance. She'd have suggested they at least talk to Dumbledore. He liked Hagrid, he'd have let the half-giant get away with his law-breaking without repercussions.
"I found a letter telling the weasel to get the dragon to the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday to be picked up." Malfoy the Younger tattles gleefully. "Potter, Granger, and Longbottom must have gotten caught on the way back."
"And you've gotten caught too." Malfoy the Older crosses his arms. "Honestly Draco, I applaud you for trying to get Gryffindors into trouble, but couldn't you have told Professor Snape about it instead of wandering the hallways at night too? Or better yet, anonymously tipped off McGonagall about students planning mischief in that general area at that specific time? What I am supposed to tell your mother when she asks about your detention?"
Even she has to titter when the snakelet looks abashed. Cute.
"Now, now." Malfoy's girlfriend pacifies her man. "He's still a little boy. He'll grow, he'll get smarter. Next time, he'll think it through better."
"I will." The said boy assures them earnestly.
"You better." Farley threatens him and that was that.
Losing all those points in one go makes things slightly harder for her brother in his House. During meals and when they cross paths in hallways, she sees his Housemates snub him. Until then, he'd been enjoying a Boy-Who-Lived-And-Who-Got-Cheated-Out-Of-His-Rightful-Spot-On-The-Team reputation with them.
Gryffindor already had been doing badly, but Harry's blunder unquestionably knocked them out of the running for the House Cup. After their disastrous performance on the Quidditch Pitch and that fight during Quirrell's class, they had absolutely no chance of fulfilling their hopes and dreams of defeating her House for the first time in seven years.
Slytherin had just barely maintained their lead through sheer willpower, help from their Head of House, and the four-hundred-thirty extra points they had won from Gryffindor on the Pitch earlier in the year.
It would have been worse in the original timeline when he would have gotten his spot on the team, and had been a Quidditch hero who would had briefly allowed Gryffindor to take the lead in points.
It's when she's trying to talk to her brother again, planning on taking advantage of his isolation-created loneliness in his House to get back into his good graces that she gets into another brawl with the Weasley twins.
She'd been minding her own business, walking up the stairs with the intention of loitering with Ava at a hallway intersection she knew Harry took often when someone casts a Glisseo under their feet. The two of them go tumbling ass over teakettle down the slide with terrified screams to the familiar laughter of their assailants.
She lands badly, hitting her head hard against the stone floor. It wasn't bad enough for a concussion, she thinks, but damn did it hurt. She's going to have one hell of a bruise there.
They've been lucky, she realized with cold certainty. Had they been any higher on the steps, this could have killed them. They could have broken their necks. And they thought it was funny. The Weasley twins thought almost killing them was funny.
She'd been aware wizards had a bit of a screwed-up mentality when it came to their own mortality. It came with all the spells and potions that could fix up the worst of wounds in seconds. Wizards also tended to be unconsciously protected by their magic in dangerous situations that allowed them to otherwise survive fatal accidents. Like Longbottom, when he fell from his broom during his first flying lesson and walked away with only a broken wrist. This protection allowed them to take the stupidest risks a muggle would have never even considered and come out of them if not fine, then not permanently injured for life. And their lesser sense for danger meant the teachers would not consider her and Ava's fall an accidental murder attempt.
It made her blood boil; the wizards casually disregard for the safety of the people around them. She'd gone far in the Slytherins war against the Gryffindors, but she'd never gone that far. She'd always been careful. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, harsh words in reply to harsh words, an embarrassing spell in response to an embarrassing spell, she purposely calculated her retorts to be equal to the slights against her. If they could dish it out, then they could take the same.
"Dahlia?" She lifts herself off the floor on trembling arms, face covered by her hair. Ava is kneeling at her side, a wand of rowan and unicorn hair, 10 inches long, pliable with a small amethyst dangling from the handle's end similar to a bracelet charm in her hand. According to Ollivander's, it was perfect for protection and healing. "Oh, Merlin. Look at you! Hold still, episkey."
There is a cold-hot sensation on her forehead. She peers at her friend in concern, noting the red scratches on her face. "Are you alright?"
Ava smiles. "Just a scrape or two. Now, episkey won't remove the bruise and it can only temporarily relieve the pain, so be careful."
Satisfied that neither of them seemed like she was going to kneel over dead from an internal wound, her fingers clench around her own wand – maple, phoenix feather, 11 ¾ inches, supple with a handle of pink Burmese tourmaline so smoothly joined it was like it was all a single piece with the wood. It reminded her of the epoxy resin art crafts she'd seen in her previous life. Despite the pink – not her favorite color – it was very beautiful. Elegant. She whips around to threatened the twins – who hadn't taken the chance to escape while she was preoccupied, morons – with it. "What's the big idea?!" She demands angrily. "Why'd you have to have Ava involved too?! She's got nothing to do with this. She's never said a bad word to either of you."
"She's friends with you, isn't she? And she's a Nott too." One of the twin shrugs. "Can't be all that soft and fluffy even if she is in Hufflepuff."
She grits her teeth. Again, with the prejudice. Ava might have been a Nott, a so-called Dark family of traditionalistic purebloods, however, that didn't stop her from being one of the kindest people she knew. She wouldn't hurt a fly. She dreamed of being a Healer.
The other glances at the blond girl indifferently. She had stood up to brushed off her pricey Acromantula silk skirt and was inspecting it for rips with thinned lips. "I'd say I'm sorry, but Mum taught me not to lie and to ignore snooty purebloods."
She bristles at the insults. "Apologise, weasels."
His bother opens his mouth again and clearly not to apologize, but she's faster. "Mimblewimble!"
Kyle's Christmas present comes in useful. It was her first time casting the Tongue-Tying Curse she had found she'd found in Curses and Counter-Curses, but her private theory was that heightened emotions helped perform magic which is why mainly only young children, unable to control what they were feeling, performed accidental acts of magic without wands.
Of course, the other weasel – Fred, according to the jumper underneath his open robes, how ill-mannered – retaliates. She deflects the spell with a weak version of the Shield Charm, an enchantment she had begun learning in her first year and had yet to perfect. It was horribly complicated and tended to shatter after one hit. No wonder adult wizards had difficulties with it. She was a long way from a Protego Horribilis or a Protego Maxima. Protego Diabolica, on the other hand… Dark Arts tended to be easier to use. Not that she ever cast it. She just… knew the incantation and the wand movement, that's all. She'd heard discussions about it in the Common Room.
Ava backs away to hide behind a suit of armor that helpfully moves its buckler to cover her with it. Some of that Slytherin self-preservation had rubbed off her, having been surrounded by them since birth. She didn't enjoy fighting, she didn't appreciate getting in trouble, so she got out of the way and watched from a safe spot. Dahlia didn't mind. It was the smartest thing to do when you didn't have a vengeful temper like hers.
A portrait of a fat man in 16th-century clothing gibbers something and disappears from his frame when one of her spells hits the wall beside it. George joins the fight, his tongue untied. She'll have to remember for future use; the Tongue-Tying Curse doesn't work for long.
"What's your problem with me?!" She cries out, evading an apple green light. "I didn't start this! You did!"
Their grudge had worsened to real spells fights only in their second year. Before that, it had been sabotages in class and harsh words. She'd tried to stay uninvolved and act like the adult she mentally was, but one ruined homework too many and her temper had finally snapped.
"You're a slimy traitor!" Fred answers. "Potters have been Gryffindors for centuries."
"And?! Is that it?!" She actually stamps her foot in frustration. "I haven't been raised a Potter, remember? My parents were killed when I was three."
George scowls, casting a reddish spell. "You associate with the kids of Death Eaters."
She laughs spitefully. "I have to get along with my Housemates, don't I?! You fancy being smothered in your sleep with a pillow?"
Avery would do it without a blink too.
"You're the one who ruined Alicia's potion last week." Fred spits.
She throws another Tongue-Tying Curse at George. "She called me a muggle-hating bitch!"
He avoids it. "She's right! You're also vindictive, apparently."
"I don't hate muggles!" She protests, spinning out of the way of his Bat-Bogey Hex.
"What is this! Again!" Professor McGonagall comes storming into the scene, the portrait fat man sliding through frames behind her. She lowers her wand with a pout. Tattletale. "Detention! You, Messrs. Weasley may join Professor Snape in the dungeons tomorrow, and you, Miss. Potter, may join your brother tonight at eleven o'clock to meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall. And twenty points off each!" Aw man, and she had just been released from her detention for the classroom fight too. Because of the number of people involved, their punishment times were spread out as to not overwhelm the teachers. She'd been among the last to serve her sentence and had spent two weeks straight scrubbing dirty cauldrons and polishing armour every evening for hours without break. If she ever had to see another brush again, it would be too soon. "Miss. Nott, next time, notify me. Don't just stand there. Five points off for your inaction."
Throwing an irritated glance at the twins, she puts her wand back into her fancy belt holster, and grabbing her satchel off the floor, she turns away with a huff. Ava slides out from behind the armour and giving a wide berth to the redheads approached her. Together, they make their escape back to their abandoned wing before some else decides to further ruin their day.
I don't own Harry Potter.
Edit: Abuse. Again, because this still seems to be a recurring problem with some people.
In canon, Harry never had a sister to protect him from the Dursleys. With her adult mind, she was able to make Petunia and Vernon treat them better. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad. There was still abuse (since it seems so important for the Dursleys to remain pieces of shit), but it came mostly in the verbal and neglectful form rather than the physical. There was no frying pans to the head or starving (Harry was just a picky eater and Petunia had no wish to fight him about it after a magical tanturm on the subject). There were harsh words and Dahlia was the one to teach Harry how to read, write and count.
We are never canonically told why he slept in the cupboard. As a little child surrounded by strangers and no parents in sight, I find it very possible that he would try to hide from them. Even in canon. That's what happened in my fanfic. (See the italics? Fanfic, not canon)In this case, it was the cupboard. It made him feel safer and it was never locked unless he was punished. Parents ground their children in their rooms, right? It's the same thing. Just a lot smaller.
I don't have "Dursley abuses cliche hate". I happily admit that I think they are bad people. What I hate is when people make them out worse than they are for absolutely no reason but because they hate them. (And god forbid, make it sexual. If you love canon so much, where does this come from?) The Dursleys dislike for Harry didn't come from nowhere like some people like to think. He was dumped on them with no warning when they already had one other toddler to raise. We don't know if they were given monetary help to raise a second child even if they did seem to have enough of it. Petunia was forced to raise the kid who already got her sister killed and who could now get the rest of her family killed. Harry was putting them in danger just by existing. How were they, mere muggles, supposed to know if the protections were working properly? It takes just one Death Eater to notice Harry outside the wards. They surrounded only the house, right? And he didn't stay there all the time. One family trip to the playground... Well, it's understandable that they didn't love him unconditionally. Though, I repeat just in case for the particularly dense ones, it doesn't justify it. I do not condone it.
Point is, this is a fanfic with someone who knows the canon and who is in a position to change it. Things will be different from canon merely from the butterfly effect and here she was actively working to change it. I meant, in Dahlia's situation, how many of you would sit back and do nothing in face of your and your younger brother's abuse?