August 3rd, 1990

1:25 PM

~Diagon Alley~

Harriet stared at the ice cream bowl set in front of her blankly. It hadn't been that long since she had discovered that her parents didn't die. In fact, she actually has a twin brother as well.

Her parents(?) were seated in front of her, watching her worriedly as her twin brother, Henry, ate his ice cream seemingly oblivious to the current tense atmosphere.

Harriet struggled to process everything that has been revealed to her so far in the day. Heck she couldn't even begin to comprehend all the negative emotions she was currently feeling. The turmoil inside her just didn't seem to be settling down any time soon.

It would be a gross understatement to say that Harriet Potter was pissed.

She couldn't help but be angry. Heck, angry didn't even begin to describe the icy cold feeling of resentment in her chest!

Her parents thought she was a squib, which means a person from a family of magicals yet possesses no magic, and that, apparently, that was a good reason to abandon her to a family of physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive muggles who just happen to be her relatives.

What a joke!

They decided it was alright to abandon a child because they weren't up to their pisspoor, and filthy, standards. They decided it was alright to make a child's life, their own child no less, miserable by making them think they were an orphan who had nobody but a bunch of abusive relatives. They cast away a child because said child was not as important or amazing as the boy-who-lived.

And it hurt.

Cause deep down, there's still a part of her that yearns for a parent's warm touch. A part that hopes to be loved. A part that desperately wants safety and security.

Deep down, a part of her was still just a child. A child who has been so severely hurt by the deeds of man and the world that it decided to go into seclusion within the deepest recesses of Harriet's mind.

But the fact still remains. Harriet Potter was no longer a child. Harriet Potter, poor, meek, little just Harriet, died the moment her uncle first raised his hand on her. She died and died and died and kept on dying until the moment her parents revealed themselves to be alive.

The moment their sweet little lie unfurled.

And she hated that. She hated them. She hated that all the pain she had to endure was just because her parents thought that she wasn't good enough. That she was never going to be good enough.

Well, newsflash, she was not going to be taking this bullshit sitting down anymore. She will prove just how wrong they were to discard her like a piece of trash.

And so with all of this on her mind, Harriet Potter, not Harriet Potter (meek-poor-just Harriet), spoke for the first time that evening.

"So… Am I going back?" She said, her voice as cold as a tundra. She raised her eyes from her plate and gazed unflinchingly at her ''concerned'' and 'oh-so-worried' parents. Liars.

Lily and James shared an uncertain look before they looked back at their (forgotten) daughter. They gave her a feeble smile that was surprisingly convincing. Convincing, but fake.

After all, having lived and dealt with relatives who were every bit as good at pretending as the Potters, Harriet become sort of… well let's say observant. It was something that she had learned through watching the Dursleys interact with people, be them neighbors, salesmen at the door, or important people from Uncle Vernon's equally important 'job'.

At first, it was kinda… fascinating, watching all those adults, all those people, tip-toe around each other as they kept on constructing convincing lies and half-truths in an attempt at fooling each other.

It soon grew more and more…. Fun, as she began to learn the fundamentals of 'The Game'. Soon Harriet began to move on from observing how people told and constructed their lies (everything had a bit of the truth in it) to spindling her own web of lies that were actually half-truths.

At first, she had been clumsy, unable to lie without stammering, which was paid for through extra chores and fewer meals, until eventually, she began to get better and better. All it took was watching people detect their tells and desperately attempt to hide them from the person whom they had been lying to for her to learn.

Everyone had a tell. Everyone. Yes, even her. Most people just knew how to efficiently hide their tells to the point where they became almost non-existent. In fact, some people guard their tells with vehemence that you'd find in someone guarding something valuable. They play their cards so close to their chests that it must be painful every time they talk or interact with others (and themselves).

Other people, on the other hand, wear their tells, or their hearts as most people would say, on their sleeves. Those kind of people make Harriet think almost 99.9% of the time unless said person is endearing enough, 'pathetic'.

The Potters were the former category of course. Well, not her twin brother at least. From what she's seen so far of the boy, he's some cross between the two types of people.

She didn't interact nearly enough with him to be able to correctly tell though. For all she knows, he could be just pretending as well. Who knew?

It was only when she felt someone lightly touch her shoulder that Harriet was dragged away fro the blaze of her raging thoughts. She flinched a bit violently, as though to get away, and the person who had touched her immediately drew their hand back as if they got burned.

It took Harry a moment or two of complete panic for her to realize that, 1) The person that touched her didn't mean harm to her, and 2) That the mystery person was Lily Potter. Her mother.

Said mother was currently gazing at her with a mild expression of hurt, shock, and horror. It was as if the woman was hurt by Harriet's reaction to her touch.

'Oh... Poor, dear, Mrs. Potter,' Harriet thought sarcastically, in disdain, 'How dare I insinuate that she was anything but a good parent to her child."

Clearing her throat pointedly, if a bit awkwardly, to banish her negative thoughts, Harriet began to speak in hopes of diverting the woman's attention away from what had just transpired, "Excuse me, I was lost in thought," She said smoothly absentmindedly stirring the almost completely melted ice cream in her bowl,, "You wouldn't terribly mind repeating what you said, would you Mrs. Potter."

Lily flinched, looking visibly stricken by Harriet's blatant use of her name, "Honey, you know you can call me 'mum' right?" The woman said in a tight voice.

Harriet just stared at her levelly, "I don't think so Mrs. Potter." She said in a controlled tone of voice, not even batting an eye at her birth-giver's devastated state, "As far as I know, a mother is someone that cares for their child. Someone who wouldn't, y'know, abandon them."

Lily looked as though someone slapped her.

James, seeing his wife's distress, decided to placate his daughter, "Harriet, honey, we do care about you." He said in a gentle tone of voice.

Harriet turned to him and James was startled to realize just how green Harriet's eyes truly were, "Your lack of contact with me for the last 10 year says otherwise." She said in a 'matter-of-fact' tone.

James looked as though he'd sucked a lemon. She had a point and he knew it.

Quickly composing herself, Lily spoke again, "Honey, we really did try to get in contact with you. We even checked on you from time to time when you were young. Most of the time, Petunia didn't let us enter the house saying that you were fine and perfectly happy and content to be with them." Lily paused for a bit, composing herself again, and Harriet almost snorted.

Taking a deep breath, Lily continued, "We even kept charms on the house so we could know when you displayed accidental magic. But as your brother grew, it became harder and harder to check in with the Dursleys and we completely lost contact by the time you were seven." Lily shrugged sadly, "We honestly did all we could considering the circumstances."

Harriet just kept staring at them. So they kept charms on the house and not on her. No wonder they never came to take her earlier. She remembers a time when she was six, when the teacher attempted to humiliate her in front of the class because Dudley had said that she cheated from him on the last quiz and that was why she got such a good mark.

Because Dudley Dursley was a good student and Harriet Potter was just another cockroach in a classroom full of children and 'respectable people'.

Idiots.

Of course, the teacher in all her glory, had decided to 'expose' Harriet in front of the whole class and to 'make an example out of her so that people will know that cheating is bad and not follow her lead'.

Strangely enough, the teacher's hair turned blue a minute into her tirade. Harriet got detention that day, but she couldn't curb the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that plagued her for the rest of the week, even as her uncle locked her in the cupboard with no dinner.

Another instance, was during 3rd grade when Dudley and his gang had been playing 'Harry Hunting' during recess. Apparently, they never learned how to pronounce more than one syllable of her name, which was almost offending had it not been Dudley and his gang of hoodlums. Anyway, as she was running Harriet felt a strange pull, as though she was being squeezed hrough a really narrow tube, before she appeared on top of the school's roof. One second she had been running, the other she had just appeared on the top of the school's roof. If that was not magic then she didn't know what is.

Of course, she had gotten in trouble for 'climbing on the walls of the school'. Her uncle had decided a beating was the way to go for that incident.

And so, Harriet kept on staring at her supposed 'family'. The same people who kept on defending themselves, saying they tried.

Well. They didn't try nearly hard enough.

"Well," Harriet drawled, carefully inspecting the two hopeful adults sitting across from her, "Enough of that for now, you still didn't answer my earlier question. Do I have to go back?"

The two adults looked puzzled, "Go back where?" Asked James.

Harriet scoffed, "To the Dursleys of course. Do I have to go back?"

Lily bit her lip, "Well, not unless you want to," she shrugged, "Honestly, we did not know who you'd want to live with after everything was said and done, so we left you the freedom of choice."

Harriet hm'ed, "I see then. Well, if it's possible I'd rather not go back to the Dursleys."

James and Lily shared another look, "Harriet, dear," started Lily slowly, "It's not like we object or anything, but may we ask why?"

Harriet barked a sarcastic laugh, "Why?" She said mirth dancing in her eyes. It was as if she was told a really funny joke, "Why not?" She looked at really and smiled. It was slow and predatory.

"Your dear relatives mother," Lily flinched at the verbal jab as Harriet started to count on her fingers, "Locked me in a dark, dinky, filthy boot cupboard under the stairs, made me think my name was 'Freak' until I was five and had to go to Kindergarten, forced me to cook for them at the age of 4, would beat me if I did anything 'freakish' or outscored their 'precious Duddy-kins', used me as their own personal slave whom they kept 'from the goodness of their hearts'," She looked at the two horrified adults and her smile slowly dropped into a sneer, "Need I go on? 'Cause I have a thousand more examples to use."

Needless to say, Harriet never saw the Dursleys again. At least, not for a long period of time.

August 3rd, 1990

6:30 AM

~Potter Manor~

As angry at her parents as Harriet was she couldn't help but admit that the bed in her new bedroom (first bedroom in fact) was so comfy. 'But then again,' Harriet thought snidely, 'It's not like I was even allowed to touch a bed before today,'.

Yeah… You could just taste the bitterness in her words.

Just as Harriet was about to start changing into the new clothes that her father felt obligated to buy when he realized that she had no clothes of her own, a hesitant knock sounded at the door.

Harriet raised an eyebrow and went to open the door, wondering along the way, just which member from her family might be knocking on the door.

When she opened the door, Harriet was met with the sight of a meek and nervous boy. Upon closer inspection she realized that said boy was her younger twin, Henry.

"Oh… Henry," Harriet muttered letting just a hint of disdain creep into her voice, and judging by his wince, the younger boy detected it.

"U-Um hello, hello, um c-can I come in? I want to talk." Henry stammered, absentmindedly fiddling with his muggle cotton shirt as he desperately avoided eye contact with his older twin.

'Nervous,' Harriet observed.

Slowly, and without taking her eyes off of the anxious boy, she fully opened her door and allowed him entrance.

Harriet cautiously moved to her bed, stiffly sitting down on it as she waited for her twin brother to talk.

After a minute or so of silence Harriet finally snapped.

"Alright, out with it!" She snapped a bit irritably, "What do you want?"

The boy startled slightly, not expecting her to be the first to speak. He slowly took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he began speaking.

"I-" He took another deep breath, "I-I'm sorry!" He finally burst out.

Harriet blinked, her mind short circuiting as she tried to process what she has heard.

"What?" She said instead thoroughly confused.

"I'm sorry," the boy looked down, "For everything you had to go through. I know it's not enough but," the boy shrugged a bit helplessly, "I dunno, I thought it might help."

Harriet blinked again, looking even more surprised and shocked. He was… apologizing?

"And… why are you apologizing for something… our parents.. did?" She asked, puzzled although it took some time for her to gather her thoughts.

Henry shrugged again, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head, "I dunno, I mean… it's kinda my fault too y'know… if it wasn't for me being the Boy-who-lived maybe you'd have lived with us and not with those mean muggles. So, I'm sorry for everything I guess."

Harriet looked at the boy in front her, truly seeing him for the first time. She had, of course, been planning to resent her twin brother for being the child whom her parents chose but now…. It seems that she was reevaluating her views on the Boy-who-lived.

So with that thought in mind, Harriet looked, truly looked, at the boy in front of her and felt her lips twitch.

"I see then," Harriet said in a monotone voice, "Well then, seeing as you were so gracious with your apology, I have no choice but to accept it." And with that Harriet extended her hand, "Nice to meet you. My name is Harriet. Harriet Potter."

Henry gave her a 1000 megawatt grin before he took her hand and shook it firmly, "And my name is Henry. Henry Potter?" He let out an excited laugh before he looked confused, "By the way, what does gracious mean?"

And for the first time in years, Harriet Potter threw her head back and laughed.

September 30, 1990

11:50 PM

~Potter Manor~

Harriet Potter was grumpy. It had been almost two months since she had left the Dursleys 'nice care', and yet she still wasn't over their treatment of her.

She still flinches from loud and sudden sounds because they remind her of Uncle Vernon's yelling, she still cowers whenever someone raises their hand, and she still can't have eye-contact with anyone.

Not even her twin brother, whom she had warmed up to, who has gotten accustomed to calling her 'Harry' much to her amusement and confusion.

And worst of all? She can just feel the pity her parents direct at her. She didn't want pity dammit! She just wants her parents to act as though everything was normal, to at least give her a semblance of normalcy.

But no. She was stuck with people who don't understand her and never will understand her. It was honestly irritating.

Oh well, at least Henry doesn't comment on it.

August 1st, 1991

12:30 PM

~Diagon Alley~

It was August 1st, 1991. Almost a whole year had passed ever since Harriet had been whisked away from the Dursleys, ever since her life had fallen apart in front her.

The year she had spent with the Potters bad been, surprisingly, uneventful. She still didn't get along with her parents that's for sure, but her bitterness towards them decreased significantly.

She might actually be starting to warm up to the Potters.

Henry, on the other hand, had been nothing but an absolute sweetheart! He was able to be mature when he wanted to be, but on the whole he was… well, sort of childish. In a good way.

It honestly made Harriet feel like a child again, which was kind of nice.

He still didn't stop calling her 'Harry' though, and when she had asked him about it the boy responded with:

'Well, it's a nickname! Your name is nice and all, but a good ol' nickname never hurts anyone amiright?' The Boy-who-lived had said with a cheesy grin and a wink that made Harriet roll her eyes. She was smiling nonetheless.

And by the boy's logic it was supposed to be spelled as 'Harri' and not 'Harry', but for some reason Harriet found herself more drawn to the latter of the two names.

For reasons unknown to her, of course.

Anyway, today was the day where all Hogwarts students go shopping for their items. Currently, Harriet was being fitted for her robes at Madam Malkin's shop, and being fitted right next to her was a boy with platinum blond hair and eyes the color of beautiful silver.