Elizabeth Potter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: She was more than just the Girl Who Lived. Philosopher's Stone AU. fem!Harry. OOC.

Rating: T for mild violence, and references to character death.

Author: tlyxor1.

Chapter One: The Deputy Headmistress

At 10 years old, Beth Potter was everything her cousin, Dudley, was not. She was quiet where he was loud, polite where Dudley was rude, and gentle where he was brash. She supposed it could be attributed to the influence of the adults in their lives, Beth's Aunt and Uncle, particularly, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she was content to go on with her own life and all the while, Dudley went on with his.

Things were about to change, however, and Beth knew it. Not only had Mrs Fig forewarned and prepared her, Beth could almost feel it.

Magic.

It tickled the edge of her senses, just barely out of her reach, playful and excited. She wanted to stretch out her arms, to take hold of it in both hands and never let it go, but patience was a virtue. Beth could wait. She'd already waited for ten years, after all. In the wake of that fact, what was a few more minutes, hours, or even days?

With a sleepy sigh, Beth sat up, threw her feet over the edge of her bed and contemplated her bedroom window. It was early yet, the summer sky illuminated in pastel shades of orange, pink and yellow. The inhabitants of Privet Drive were still asleep, her relatives among them, and Beth was determined to appreciate the peace while it lasted.

Dudley had a tendency to make all the noise of a rampaging rhino and thus, it was a rare commodity.

With that in mind, she spent the morning tending to her garden. Mrs Fig said it wasn't appropriate for young ladies to be labouring under the sun, but Beth couldn't bring herself to forsake what had become her pride and joy. Instead, she'd promised herself to never become defined by the expectations of others. If that meant offending the delicate sensibilities of traditionalist aristocrats, then so be it.

Besides, if James Potter could break from the mould and do as he pleased, then Beth could, too.

She smiled to herself at the thought. Mrs Fig had told her stories about her parents, James and Lily, and even more about her paternal grandparents, Charlus and Dorea. They'd been unconventional in their ways, had somehow managed not to insult the traditionalists in doing so and Beth admired them for more reasons than she could say. Needless to say, her parents' sacrifice on October 31st, 1981, was only the tip of the iceberg.

It was a shame she couldn't talk to anyone about them. Her Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had told everyone that they'd been killed by a drunk driver. Although Elizabeth understood why, it limited Beth's ability to inform her friends exactly how amazing her parents were.

And that was without magic.

"Breakfast, Elizabeth."

"Coming, Aunt!"

Elizabeth exhaled through her nose, returned her gardening tools to the shed and washed up before she entered the kitchen. Her Aunt Petunia acknowledged her with a curt nod, Elizabeth accepted the glass of apple juice offered to her and settled herself at the dining table. Her usual breakfast of eggs (sunny side up) on toast, sliced fruits, and a small bowl of yoghurt already awaited her. As she ate, she reflected on her relationship with her relatives.

Her Aunt Petunia had never liked her. Elizabeth had never been certain of the reason why, but she'd always treated Beth more like an unwelcome guest. It was something Beth herself had reluctantly accepted. It wasn't as though she could make the woman change her mind, after all.

Her Uncle Vernon, in contrast, vacillated between treating her like a favoured client and a favoured son. It was strange, admittedly, but he made sure the monthly stipend they received for her care went towards Elizabeth's expenses and not towards showering Dudley with more things he didn't need.

Beth supposed it was all she could really ask for. Because of him, she'd attended ballet, martial arts, and gymnastics for years. She did well in school, participated in her school's football (soccer) team, had friends and interests beyond the boundaries of no. 4, Privet Drive. She was happy, she was healthy and it was more than her cousin could say for himself.

Not that he realised it, of course.

Brought from her reverie as the boy in question thundered down the stairs, Beth finished the last of her fruit and yoghurt, excused herself from the table and cleared up her used dishes.

She had no desire to be around while Dudley inhaled his breakfast, thank you very much.

Thus, Elizabeth washed up the dirtied frying pans while she was already in the kitchen, certain her Aunt Petunia would make her clean it up anyway. Then she headed upstairs, showered and dressed for the day and lingered in her room.

Petunia never liked it when Elizabeth spent time with the rest of them and Beth never liked to be where she wasn't wanted. Therefore, she occupied herself with a book and later her flute.

Mrs Fig said it was expected of a young lady to be talented with at least one musical instrument. Her Uncle Vernon, who preferred not to be accosted by insulted magicals in future, had thus had Beth in piano lessons since she was five. The flute lessons had come later.

She'd not looked back since.

It was only as the doorbell sounded that Beth glanced towards her bedroom door. Her towel was hung on the hook on the back of it,a pastel purple colour to match her bedroom accents, though that wasn't what was on her mind. Instead, her thoughts were on their unexpected visitor.

Could it be?

Did she dare hope?

Carefully, Elizabeth set down her flute, left her bedroom and glanced down the staircase. Then she smiled, beatific, because the day had finally come.

"Elizabeth!" Her Uncle Vernon bellowed, "Guest for you!"

"I'm here, Uncle," she answered, gracefully descended the staircase and studied the woman awaiting her.

The woman was tall, with her hair pulled into an immaculate bun, square-rimmed spectacles on her face, her green eyes tinged with the faintest trace of yellow. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, but Beth received the impression she was happy. With that in mind, Beth herself offered the woman a tentative smile.

"Hello, ma'am. May I help you?"

"Miss Potter," she acknowledged, "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here to offer you a place at our academy. May we sit?"

"Of course," Beth exclaimed, sheepish. She guided the woman into the sitting room, and queried, "Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuits? I think we have some scones…"

"I'm alright, thank you."

Beth settled herself across the coffee table from Professor McGonagall, folded her hands in her lap and curbed the urge to fidget. She was more excited than she could say and gods, but she wanted to go to Diagon Alley already.

The woman seemed to notice.

"I trust you are already aware of your heritage, Miss Potter?"

"I am," Beth confirmed, "Uncle Vernon was insistent I know where I came from. Mrs Fig helped educate me, but I didn't learn of magic itself until I was eight."

"Excellent," Professor McGonagall acknowledged, "In that case, I need not make the usual introduction. Would you like your Hogwarts letter, or do you perhaps have questions?"

"I don't," Elizabeth answered. Mrs Fig had already provided all the answers to her questions, "I would like my letter, please."

Beth accepted the parchment envelope with a grin she couldn't suppress. It was heavy in her hands, weighted down with all of her expectations and Beth trembled. She didn't hesitate, however, and in only a moment, the wax seal had been broken and the letter opened.

Beth read it eagerly.

"I would love to attend your school, Professor McGonagall," Beth said, "Do you need a written confirmation?"

"I would appreciate it," Professor McGonagall answered.

It didn't take much time to organise. In only a few moments, the Deputy Headmistress was in possession of Beth's confirmation letter and Beth herself was escorting her to the door.

"And you are certain you do not wish for me to accompany you to Diagon Alley?"

"I'm certain," Beth confirmed, "Thank you for the offer, however. I do appreciate it."

"In that case, Miss Potter, I will see you on the 1st of September. Have a pleasant holiday."

Professor McGonagall left, Beth closed the door behind her and took several steps towards the staircase. Then she stopped and despite herself, she squealed.

She was finally going to Hogwarts.

Author's Note: Title subject to change.