Harry did not enjoy his home. For too much yelling and scolding occupied it to make it any enjoyable. Vernon with his loud chants that this country is going off the rails, and Petunia with her keen eyes that seemed to track every one of Harry's movements. Harry was sure, though he did not have the chance to prove it, that if he stole one toothpick from the pantry, Aunt Petunia would notice.
But it wasn't just their overwhelming presence that made his home a hellhole, but also their never-ending demands for Harry. If Harry was spot idling – he was a lazy, no-good freeloader, and if Harry was working – it was not nearly fast enough, and he was a lazy, no-good freeloader.
It was a fine line to balance and one that Harry never could manage. He was only seven, and not at the pinnacle of his wisdom. When he dropped a plate and it shattered – he cried. He wailed and he wailed, and he wailed, confused and lost and holding the shattered ceramic pieces in his hand. Aunt Petunia came barging into the room shrieking and screaming at the loss of her favorite plain white plate.
'Priceless,' she yelled at him. Aunt Petunia pinched him by the ear and threw him out of the house.
On the quiet outside lawn Harry had a moment to himself. A moment of complete silence. Silent, except for his small sniffles, and the dreams that tumbled around in his head. The dreams of what a life in another home might be like.
It was a shame that nobody could read Harry's mood. For his mood on this Thursday morning was one of despair and hurt. Not thirty minutes before, he was screamed out the door by Uncle Vernon when he accidentally spilled orange juice on Uncle Vernon's coat.
The only small consolation for Harry was that they were not able to see his tears. He had wiped them off in the school bathroom.
The school Harry went to was noisy, chaotic, and full of bumbling little children just like him. Today was a day in which there was no lesson at all, and the kids were free to roam around and play to their hearts' content.
So, the quiet Harry was happy and satisfied holding his own. In the small corner of the classroom, he was drawing his own piece of art. A series of scribbles and swirls that if you asked him, he would say were a knight destroying an evil wizard.
Lost in his world, Harry didn't take notice when a classmate came to cause him trouble.
Daphne Greengrass did not want to be here. No, not at all. She'd rather be at her home practicing magic, but when did Daphne ever get what she want. Never. So, instead of exploring the mysteries of the arcane arts, she was here in this dreadful muggle prison waiting for the hours to tick by.
She approached Harry carelessly and with a disregard for whatever his mood may be. She had her own concerns she had to deal with.
"I want that purple crayon," she told him.
Harry looked up. Looming before him was his classmate Daphne with an imposing expression. Harry never said much to Daphne, and she never said much to him.
"My purple crayon?" he asked confused. He was still not himself at this moment – still a little shaken from the yelling Uncle Vernon gave him an hour ago.
In way of answering, Daphne reached over and tried to tear the crayon out of his grip. Harry did not let go, because – well, he wanted that purple crayon too.
Daphne pinched him, and Harry yelped – 'ow!'. His grip on the crayon inadvertently let go and Daphne was able to snatch it. With the purple crayon, Daphne walked away without another word, satisfied once again that things went her way.
She did not make it far however, when the bulky Dudley Dursley got in the way.
"What'd you got there?" he questioned.
Daphne put the crayon behind her back.
"Nothing," she replied in a sassy voice. Daphne did not like Dudley. He just reminded her of why witches and wizards were better. He was just a big brutish oaf with a rock for a brain.
"It better not be a purple crayon – because that's my crayon." Dudley emphasized.
"No, it's not yours," argued Daphne. "It's in my hand, so it's mine. That's how it works."
"Why's that?" asked Dudley back.
"Because" said Daphne simply.
"Because why?
"Because."
"Because why?"
Daphne groaned and pulled her hand over her face. How many times did she have to explain it to Dudley!?
"BECAUSE!" she yelled.
Dudley had enough of this annoying girl. He clenched his fist and reached for the crayon behind Daphne's back. Daphne moved aside and dodged his hand. Dudley reached for it again, but Daphne once more avoided his hand by stretching hers in the air.
This was the wrong move, because Dudley's patience – which had never been commendable – was at its end.
"You can't have it!" Dudley cried. "It's mine!"
Dudley tackled Daphne. The two scrambled around on the floor whacking, and clobbering each other with Daphne's skinny fist, and Dudley's pudgy one. At some point, Dudley yelled – 'ow, she bit me!'.
That exclamation finally got the attention of their teacher Mrs. Gardner who just now noticed them fighting. The teacher shouted at them to stop and scrambled through her students to reach the two fighting pupils.
What she was able to see was only the end, when Dudley ripped the crayon out of Daphne's grasp, and gave the trying girl one more punch to the stomach.
Daphne clutched her stomach and fell over.
"Dudley Dursley!" Mrs. Gardner gasped. "You! Do Not! Hit! A girl! To the principal's office! RIGHT NOW!"
Mrs. Gardner rushed over to Dudley and snatched his arm tightly. She dragged him out of the room and didn't hear a word of Dudley's feeble protests that – 'she started it' or 'she bit me'.
The rest of the class held their breath. An un-nerving silence filled the room. Never had they seen their teacher act this way before. When the door to the room shut once more, the class was too shocked to do anything. What a scandal to fill the classroom!
It was one week since the incident. It wasn't named as such, but the incident was so significant in the minds of the children that it simply could not be forgotten.
Harry too, had remembered it vividly. What could he say, but that he had been deeply awed at the way Daphne handled the situation. The way she got up afterwards with a winded, but triumphant expression. She moved onto her desk and started drawing with the purple crayon as if nothing had happened.
Wow, thought Harry. If only he had that kind of bravery.
The Dursleys too, had been affected by it. Never had their son been in such trouble. They had always believed that their boy was as good natured as a saint. But upon having to be called down to the principal's office, and have an apology forced out of the boy, was humiliating for them. More so in finding out that the person he had punched, was a finely dressed blonde haired, blue eyed, girl that might've been the picture of innocence. Upon reaching their home, the Dursleys yelled at Dudley in a way Harry had never seen before.
Dudley argued for his innocence, but in their minds that made it all the worse. For a man who can't take responsibility for his action's is no man at all, claimed Uncle Vernon.
(Uncle Vernon had finished reading his get rich quick book by an author of the name Pauper McPoorster. He liked to quote the book all the time.)
The dinner that followed was a subdued affair. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept a close eye on Dudley. They wanted to make sure he didn't escape from the table to punch more little girls.
So, for the first time, in Harry's short and unremarkable life, he had a quiet dinner at which he was not the sole focus of their displeasure.
When it was time for bed, Harry went into his cramped little cupboard very pleased. Harry made up his mind then and there to follow Daphne and hope that some of her bravery would rub off onto him.
Daphne, however, was not happy with her new shadow. Daphne liked minding her own business, but the dark-haired, green-eyed boy, that she could vaguely remember was called Harry, never seemed to give her a second to herself.
In the lunchroom, he would take the seat next to her, in the playground he would always be within a meter's length of her, and in the classroom, he would always pass her purple crayons even though she was done with her drawing of a purple t-rex!
At some point, enough became enough. She had to set her foot down.
"Stop following me!" she shouted at Harry.
Harry blinked at her harsh words, but in his head he perfectly understood. This was no surprise for Harry. He was not often wanted nearby.
His silent way, however, did not give him the confidence to speak back, so instead he nodded his head solemnly and moved away. Towards the tree that was in the corner of the playground.
Daphne watched him go. Right now, it seemed her heart and mind were split on what was the right course of action.
"Of course, you had to do that! You must look after yourself Daphne!" Said her mind gruffly.
"Look at the poor boy!" cried her fragile heart. "He is positively miserable."
Back and forth they went, each tugging this way and that. Daphne was not too sure which one to listen to. Though being the logical person she was, she was keener to listen to her mind.
That is, until Stacey Adams went over to talk to Harry.
Daphne hated Stacey.
The reason for this being quite simple. Stacey had sparkling sneakers, and Daphne did not. That was an offense, that Daphne was not able to forgive her for.
Daphne marched angrily over to the pair. She was only able to make out the words 'I like dogs more than cats', before Daphne freed Harry from that evil harpy's grasp.
"You're playing with me," Daphne said. She grabbed Harry and dragged him away.
And so, the beginning of Daphne and Harry's friendship began.
The games Daphne made Harry play were certainly strange. They were games he had never heard of before – games such as goblins vs wizards, the niffler heist, and potions brewing.
Despite the strangeness, Harry had fun, and so did Daphne. Daphne was now able to look back happy and thankful that she listened to her heart, and never once wavered into that unsympathetic and lonely nature that she once preached.
All across the schoolyard went the pair. They trekked over hills and ditches, and all over the imaginary lands they had created for themselves. A land filled with dangers such as wizard towers, witches huts, and Acromantula lairs that only through Daphne's shrewd wisdom were they able to navigate.
They were positively inseparable now, and Daphne did not mind it one bit. Being with Harry for her was not so different from her being alone – only just less lonely. Now instead of being trapped in the confines of her mind, she could speak her mind to Harry who would never criticize her, but rather listen attentively.
For both of them, it was peace. Harry no longer had to worry for Dudley who never once dared approach Daphne after the incident, and Daphne had a friend that made the hours spent in the muggle world a blessing and not a curse.
Daphne's mother, Eleanor Greengrass, also noticed the change. Where before, she had to poke and pester poor Daphne out of bed, now it was Daphne that chased her mother around.
Daphne had sprung up with a new excitement. 'Mother hurry up,' she would say. 'Harry's waiting for me.'
Harry, thought Eleanor idly. A boy's name. Well, it was no matter. Daphne's mother was happy enough that Daphne had a new friend.
Eleanor was worried previously when Daphne's teacher told Eleanor that Daphne did not play nicely with others.
"Daphne," Eleanor said once she entered the strange muggle contraption known as the automobile. "Why don't you invite Harry to our home one of these days? For a playdate."
"But mother," Daphne whispered cautiously. Her blue eyes widened in fright. "What about M-A-G-I-K"
Oh, bless her little girl! Just like her father – shrewd, cunning, but always thoughtful when it mattered. She was almost too perfect.
"Don't worry about that dear," Eleanor responded assuredly. "I am sure we will find ways of hiding it."
So, with her mother's permission, Daphne went to ask Harry for a playdate later that day.
Harry arrived at Greengrass Manor on a sunny Friday afternoon after the school day ended.
The first thing Harry noticed at this new house was its extravagance. Harry wanted to turn his head round and round. There were so many things to see. Daphne called it a regular old house, but Harry was sure a more apt name would be a mansion.
It was a Victorian style manor with a wide green lawn on both sides, and ornate furniture scattered throughout.
Daphne led Harry throughout the mansion. She seemed to pay little attention to her luxurious surroundings. Not once did she lift her head to see the sparkling chandeliers, or the tall imposing portraits that Harry had the eerie feeling were following his every move.
"This is my room," Daphne finally said having reached her room.
The room with blue painted walls, and a California king sized bed. For some reason, Harry was suffocated by the amount of space in the room. Strange considering that he had been living in a small sized cupboard for the last seven years.
Harry went to sit on the bench near the window, while Daphne scavenged through her chest for toys looking for something that they could play with.
"No-" muttered Daphne shaking her head. "Not this."
She heaved a toy horse from out of the chest. She sat that aside. Then she reached a little deeper down and pulled out a train set. She put that aside too. The train started choo-chooing away and went out the door to the hallway. What followed next was a slinky, a broomstick, a weird looking soccer ball, a cauldron, fireworks, and a giant tome of a book.
Harry's confusion grew as more and more toys came out of the chest. How big could a chest really be?
Finally, Daphne emerged with a bright shiny steel sword. The tip sparkled against the afternoon sun.
Daphne had a hard time lifting the sword with both her hands, but somehow, she managed it. She pointed the tip towards Harry's neck.
"Fear ye sailor" she said. "I am the great pirate bumbothold the evil here to rob ye of all your goods – argh!"
Harry gulped, not failing to notice that the sword was awfully close to him.
"You can have them," said Harry meekly.
Daphne was disappointed. What was the fun of being a pirate if the people you robbed complied to your every wish? Why, she was no better than a tax collector!
"Are you playing pirates without me," whined a petulant voice.
Into the room came another girl. A girl who was younger than Daphne, and had a small bunny held closely to her chest.
"Astoria!" whined Daphne back. She forgot about the sword and let it drop to the floor. The sword hit the floor next to Harry with a loud thud. Harry's pacing heart found a moment to relax.
"Can I play?" Astoria asked again. She peered at Daphne for permission.
"Mummy, said to leave us alone while we played," said Daphne meanly. "So why don't you go play with Mr. Bunny and leave us alone."
"I don't want to play with Mr. Bunny," Astoria cried. She clenched her fists and stomped on the floor. "I want to play pirates!"
Mr. Bunny was very offended by this disregard for his feelings. He hopped out of Astoria's arms and scampered out of the room. Oh how, his family would have a laugh at this, Mr. Bunny thought. After he gave them the cold shoulder and told them he was moving up in the world.
Well, pride makes fools of us all.
"Mum!" shouted Daphne. "Astoria won't leave us alone! Make her go away!"
From across the manor, a mother sighed. Eleanor had just finished setting herself up to watch her soap opera – she had gotten her snacks, covered herself with blankets, and made sure a meal was prepared for the kids. However, hearing Daphne's cry, Eleanor reluctantly got up and started walking to Daphne's room.
Eleanor hoped they hadn't set the house on fire like they did last Christmas when they had gotten the fireworks. (The fireworks were Cygnus's idea not hers!) Thankfully, she didn't smell any smoke as she approached the room.
Eleanor opened the door to Daphne's room. There her two daughters were arguing, and Astoria seemed ready to cry. Daphne could be cruel at times. Scattered throughout the room were various toys and a flying enchanted airplane that Eleanor was sure she had asked Daphne to put away.
In the corner sat the muggle boy with black hair, and green eyes, and had a peculiar look to him as if Eleanor had seen him before. Why, the boy looked just like James Potter!?
That was when she saw the scar. Harry Potter, she wanted to gasp, but before she could, Eleanor swooned and fainted on to the floor.
The arguing stopped. The collapse of their mother snapped them out of their argument. Harry meanwhile lay uncomfortably in the corner. For some reason, he had the solemn thought that he had been the cause of that fall. The mother did give him a strange look before she fell.
"I am going to get Dad," said Daphne determinedly. She rushed out the door, and out of the hallway where Harry could hear her fast steps pounding down on the floor.
Not many seconds later, did Cygnus Greengrass come barging into the room with her daughter trailing behind. He didn't spare Harry any mind as he quickly rushed to his wife's aid.
He lifted her head this way and that – inspecting it at all different angles. When nothing seemed too awry, he got out his wand and cast the revival spell.
"Eneverate," Cygnus said.
The woman gasped as she was brought back to life. Eleanor rubbed her eyes and blinked at her bright surroundings. Then remembering how she had fallen she took another look at the boy in the room.
"It's Harry Potter," she said in disbelief to her husband. She pointed a shaky finger at Harry.
"Harry Potter?" asked Cygnus confused. "What's Harry Potter got to do with it?"
Then he turned and noticed the muggle boy for the first time. The boy had dark raven hair, green eyes, and a look about him that reminded him of James Potter. Then he saw the scar.
"By gods it really is Harry Potter!" His father exclaimed.
But what was the boy doing here!? In their house. Surely a notorious boy like the Potter boy would be escorted with all sorts of security.
Cygnus didn't want to give the wrong idea they kidnapped the boy. He was an honest man after all! The party in the Wizengamot that went against the death eaters were always snooping around in Cygnus's account looking for any iota of mal doing.
"What should we do," her mother whispered anxiously.
"I'm not sure," said Cygnus baffled.
The boy in question was shifting around nervously under their curious gazes. Daphne, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes at Harry for not telling her this secret beforehand. She wasn't exactly sure what being Harry Potter meant, but the reaction of her parents certainly made her suspicious.
Cygnus and Eleanor never spoke of the wizarding war because they did not like to dwell on the dark times. They had survived with their family in one piece and that was enough for them.
"We can talk to my aunt Eugenia," said Eleanor. "She'll know what to do."
"Yes, yes," agreed Cygnus eagerly. "That sounds like a fine idea."
The two adults got up and slipped out the door. The kids in the room were left confused.
Well, everyone except Daphne who wanted an explanation for all this!
Daphne marched over to Harry and took hold of him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter!?" Daphne demanded. She was shaking him with the collar of his shirt.
"I…did…" Harry managed to get out as he was whipped this way and that.
"Liar!" said Daphne, knowing perfectly that he was not lying one bit. Their names had been the first things they said to each other. She was Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass Estate, and he was Harry Potter, heir to the trash can.
"It's the truth," Harry gasped. "I swear!"
Daphne let go. "Very well," said Daphne. "If you say so. But let it be known that I still don't trust you."
And that was that. Having successfully interrogated the boy, Daphne felt a lot more comfortable having him under their household.
"I want to play cops and robber," Astoria whined again.
Daphne turned to her sister. Slouched over and completely oblivious to the situation which only transpired seconds before. Couldn't she see that the boy across from them was Harry Potter, and that meant something!?
Daphne wasn't sure what it was, but she would figure it out eventually. As for now, she made sure to keep her eyes on the boy – ready for him to transform into a flying dragon or whatever being Harry Potter meant.
But he did not turn into a dragon, nor did their parents come back to explain any of this. So, with nothing left to do, Daphne was forced to play host.
Her mother had explained what it meant to be a good host beforehand. It was to be polite and attentive to her guests.
So, Daphne took Harry to the kitchen and fed him scoopful after scoopful of ice cream. Harry tried to protest that he was full, but Daphne would not hear a word of it. From what she found out; Harry had never had ice cream before. What a shock! Daphne had to make sure she made up for his 7 years absence from such a vital medicine.
When her parents came back, they were surprised to see Harry Potter groaning and clutching his stomach, while Daphne scooped out the remainder of the ice cream from the rims of the jar.
Astoria too was eating joyfully on the side of them. She was pleased to take part in this activity with her sister and her friend.
"I thought we said no ice cream," said Eleanor.
"You told me it was my job to watch out for Harry!" defended Daphne.
"Yes, well, I made you and Harry a very fine dinner – did you not see it on the counter?"
Daphne did, but her mind was easily convinced that it was not for her, and she should get the ice cream instead.
"So, Daphne has a sweet tooth," argued Cygnus. "I see no problem here."
Eleanor gave Cygnus that look. "She's a growing girl Cygnus, she needs vitamins, nutrients, not ice cream!"
Eleanor got out her wand and vanished the ice cream in front of Daphne.
Harry, who was somewhat put out of it by all the ice cream he ate, rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Did that ice cream tub just vanish?
"Mum!" cried Daphne who was now ready to burst into tears. She didn't want to cry in front of Harry, but she felt so sad.
"Stop your whining Daphne," said Eleanor taking the seat across from Harry and peering at him with a careful expression. "We have some important things to discuss."
And so it was, Eleanor told Harry of his history and of magic, and questioned him about his past. Upon finding out the disturbing news that Harry's was treated poorly, Eleanor took it upon herself to offer him the chance to stay the night here.
Harry was all too happy to agree but claimed that he had no pajamas. Eleanor simply shook her head and said it was no problem. In the end, Daphne passed Harry her spare pink unicorn onesie, and the pair of pink younglings were ushered to sleep proudly adorning their silly costumes.
Under the starlight, Harry heard Daphne ramble onwards about all the people in her class that annoyed her, while Harry stretched his legs happy to have so much space. To a boy who slept in a cupboard all his life, a mattress on the floor was luxurious for him.
Daphne talked for twenty more minutes about her favorite flavors of ice cream. Then she yawned.
"It's okay," Daphne whispered. "You can stay here forever as long as you want. Merlin knows I need a break from Mr. Bunny and Astoria chasing me around all day."
Harry closed his eyes and dreamed it to be true. And for the first time – in a very long time – Harry felt safe.
Thee end
After note, I don't even know what I just wrote but here it is. A giant slop of brain goop. The ending was kind of rushed but I really didn't know where to go and so just you know did whatever. I guess onwards to the next thing.
Ps, thanks for the reviews on the other stories.