I don't own anything except for Sage Dursley. Reviews are always welcomed and encouraged, good or bad. Enjoy.
Eleven years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursley's front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets toddling around the parlor accompanied by a small pale bundle topped with tufts of blazing inferno - but Dudley and Sage Dursley were no longer young children, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy and small ginger haired girl riding their first bicycles, on a carousel at the fair, the boy playing a computer game with his father while the girl was baking with her mother, being hugged and kissed by their mother. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in the house, too. Because there wasn't, at least according to the Dursleys.
Yet Harry Potter was still there, residing in the small bedroom across the hall from Sage Dursley, both still asleep as the sun began to rise.
"Sweetheart, it's time to get up."
Sage woke slowly, blinking groggily as if trying to blink away the tiredness. Her mother's hand stroked softly down the young girl's cheek.
"Come now darling, that's it wake up." she cooed.
"Too tired," she mumbled. "That bloody bird screams through the night."
"Don't worry, sweetums." said Petunia. "Daddy will take care of that nasty creature first thing this morning."
The youngest Dursley rose from her bed, making quick work of getting dressed before sluggishly walking downstairs. A loud screech echoed the halls of number four, Privet Drive. A hard glare was sent towards the door, the now eleven year old wishing once again for its current inhabitant to be sent to live back under the stairs where he belonged. The Dursleys' house had five bedrooms: one for Vernon and Petunia, one for visitors (usually Aunt Marge), one where Dudley slept, one where Sage slept, and one where Dudley and Sage had kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into their first bedrooms. The previous year, the room had been quickly vacated of all of Sage's extra belongings, mostly extra books that
couldn't be squashed onto her splintering shelves. Instead of holding worn books and broken toys, the room now held an almost twelve year old Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was a wizard- a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if Harry was unhappy to be back for the holidays, it was nothing to how the Dursleys felt, especially Sage.
She had deeply missed spending the majority of the year without the boy known as Harry Potter. She missed her second bedroom, a place she could hide from the world when she felt particularly stressed, curling up behind the hoards of broken toys and junk that her elder brother refused to part with would keep her hidden for hours at a time. She missed pretending to be an only child as her parents doted on the only remaining child at home. Most of all, she missed the silence.
Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry's room.
"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night-"
"Do I look stupid?" snarled Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what will happen if that owl's let out. . . ."
He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.
". . . And look at my daughter, boy!" he accused, snapping his eyes worriedly to a half-conscious Sage. "Can barely keep her head off her own plate, hasn't slept properely in days!"
Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.
"I want more bacon." Dudley's sister, Sage, quickly shook her head in disgust, shooting her brother a disapproving look.
"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said mother, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance. . . . I don't like the sound of that school food. . . ."
"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings," said father heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"
Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.
"Pass the frying pan."
"You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry irritably.
The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen, taking a still sleepy Sage down with him; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.
"I meant 'please'!" said Harry quickly. I didn't mean -"
"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU." thundered her father, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE 'M" WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"
"But I -"
"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!"roared his uncle, banging his fist on the table.
"I just -" Harry started.
"I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"
Sage looked between her cousin and purple-faced father. "Honestly, father. He misspoke is all. There's is no need to become belligerent at the breakfast table. Doesn't anyone believe in decorum anymore?"
Vernon's eyes softened immensely as they locked on to his youngest child, still sprawled on the floor cradling her head in her hand as Petunia was trying to heave Dudley to his feet. Crossing the room he quickly lifted the injured girl to her feet, guiding her back to her seat before finally sitting back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes. Sage once again glanced towards her older cousin, glaring green eyes met her own across the mingy kitchen table, looking to sear into her very soul.
Harry looked nothing like the rest of the Dursleys, though of course Sage couldn't claim to fit in either. Her father was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; her mother was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink, and porky. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning shaped scar. Sage did not seem to fit in with anyone. Sage was neither fat like Dudley nor skinny like Harry, she had enough fat on her to keep her from being boney while remaining slim. She, too, possessed brilliant green eyes, however that was where any comparison stopped. Atop her head flowed wisps of fire, almost as if she had been kissed by flames, and when she blushed her cheeks matched her scorching red hair, making it look as thus her whole head was aflame. Sage never knew where she received her milky white skin or crimson locks, not even how she had perfectly encaptured the same glowing emerald that her parents were so vehemently disgusted with every time they glanced at Harry. Sage Dursley only knew her mother would throw a tantrum if the question were to be uttered.
At that moment, her father cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."
Sage looked up at Harry, hardly daring to believe that the boy thought her father was talking about him, if his shocked look was anything to go by. After all, her family had never cared before, so why would they start now.
"This could very well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said her father boastfully.
Sage watched Harry disappointedly return to his toast. Of course, she thought, father was talking about his important dinner party. He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. A very well off contractor and his wife were coming to dinner and father was hoping to receive a very large order from him.
Though Sage was very proud of her father for his ambition in his work, she couldn't help but feel almost sorry for the boys forgotten birthday.
"I think we should run through the schedule one more time,"said father. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be -?"
"In the lounge," said mother promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."
"Good, good. And Dudley?"
"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
"They'll love him!" cried mother rapturously.
"Excellent, Dudley. And you, my little princess?"
"I'll lead them to the lounge." Sage allowed an angelic smile to cross her lips. "May I bring you something to drink, Mr. Mason? You look very beautiful today, Mrs. Mason."
"Oh, isn't my darling baby precious?" cooed mother.
"That's daddy's little girl!," her father praised. Then he rounded on Harry. "And you?"
"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly.
"Exactly," said father nastily. "I will introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight fifteen -"
"I'll announce dinner," said mother.
"And, Dudley, you'll say -"
"May I take you through to the dining room Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his arm to an invisible woman.
"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed mother.
"And you?" said father viciously to Harry.
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.
"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"
"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason… Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason…"
"Perfect… Sage? Dudley?"
"I hope someday I'm as elegant and lovely as you, Mrs. Mason."
"How аbout: 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.'"
This was too much for both mother and her cousin Harry. Petunia burst into tears and hugged her children, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing.
"And you, boy?"
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he said, trying to keep his face straight.
"Too right, you will," said father forcefully. "The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the News at Ten. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."
Sage couldn't help but feel overly excited about this. An exquisite getaway in Spain where she would have endless time to read, feeling the warmth of the sun as she lays on the beach.
"Right—I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. Sage, princess, if you could help your mother with the house. And you," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of your aunt's and cousin's way while they're cleaning."
Sage made her way to the lounge, gazing longingly out the great picture window as she fluffed pillows. It was a brilliant, sunny day. She couldn't understand why she was made to do housework all day and then be expected to charm her father's dinner-guests. Meanwhile her bratty cousin could laze around all day, nothing expected of him other than staying out of the way. It wasn't fair!
"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed in the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"
Petunia nearly flew into the lounge, eyes darting over her children worriedly. Perhaps checking to make sure one of them hadn't sprouted another tail. After confirming the 'M' word had indeed not been used by Harry, she stormed outside with a soapy frying pan in tow. Her cousin was forced to duck as mother aimed a heavy blow at his head with the pan before thrusting a list of chores in his face.
Sage was ecstatic to know her work had now become Harry's. Her mother had offered Sage and Dudley ice cream, which they ate all too happily while watching Harry complete his chores. Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. It was half past seven,in the evening when at last, Petunia called him in.
"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
Sage quickly stepped out of Harry's way, not wanting to get closer then she must to the sticky and foul-smelling brat. It had taken Sage nearly an hour to decide on what to wear; An emerald dress adorned the young girls body with laced ivy covering the silky material. Her brilliant fiery locks fell in perfect waves past her shoulders.
On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Sage's mother, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing her salmon pink cocktail dress. Sage couldn't help but chuckle at the scraps which covered her cousins plate.
Harry ate like an animal, scarfing down his measly dinner like a starved hound. Sage turned her head disgusted at the sight, and skipped into living room to join her father and brother. Both were adorned in bow ties and dinner jackets. Sage had only just sat politely on the couch when the doorbell rang.