Chapter 1
It was just another day in July when the moving van rumbled down to the end of Privet Drive and emptied its contents. Just another chilled spring morning when the new residents of Number 6 moved in. Or at least it would've been if it had been anywhere other than Privet Drive.
The population of Privet Drive were primarily self-important gossips that were constantly trying to outdo each other and then secondarily nosy snobs. Both sorts leapt upon the news of the new neighbours arriving and began the race to who could find out the most information. All did this with the exceptions of the only two children on the drive: Dudley Dursley, who hadn't even realised the old residents of Number 6 had moved out and Harry Potter, who, whilst curious, was kept too busy and miserable by his aunt, uncle and cousin to have time to do so.
It was a week before Harry's aunt, Petunia Dursley, managed to secure a formal dinner in the Dursley household with Number 6. Something she was very smug about as Mrs 2 and 3 had yet to even sit down for tea or coffee with them.
"Remember," Petunia hissed, mere minutes before Number 6 were due to arrive, "you are not to say a word."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Harry was used to hearing this from his aunt. Whenever someone his aunt deemed as important was coming, he received one of two orders: 'Don't say anything,' or 'Stay in your room and don't make any noise.' His presence was only ever allowed to be known when the Dursleys wished to start laying the seeds of how horrible he was to whoever the new person was.
Vernon, his uncle, and Dudley, his cousin, then came from downstairs, both in suits. Harry kept his snort silent at the sight of them both: Vernon's suit jacket buttons looked ready to pop off and Dudley's tie was a hideous shade of orange that did nothing but emphasise how very blue the rest of his outfit was.
Ding-dong.
"They're here!" Petunia cried. "Quick, Vernon, get the door." She whirled on Harry, "And you, remember your place!"
Vernon heaved himself out of the sitting room and to the front door. Harry heard muffled voices then his uncle's large frame returned and behind it the new neighbours.
There were two of them. One was a man who looked to be in his forties. He had grey-flecked hair and brown eyes so dark and red they were almost crimson. The second was a girl. She was very small – smaller than Harry even – and pale. Her thumb was in her mouth and she looked at them all with wide, nervous, violet eyes behind silky, platinum hair that fell past her chest. Harry thought she couldn't possibly be any older than ten.
"As you know, this is my wife, Petunia," Vernon was saying.
"Lovely to meet you again," the man said, shaking Petunia's hand.
"And this is our son, Dudley," Vernon continued, resting a fat hand on Dudley's shoulder. "He turned fourteen just last month."
"Just a few months older than Ariel," the man commented.
The Dursleys and Harry stared. None of them had thought the girl – Ariel – could possibly be older than ten, eleven at a push. But thirteen?
Petunia coughed. "How lovely. When is her birthday?"
"August 15th."
"We shall be sure to remember and wish you happy birthday," Petunia said in a sickly-sweet voice, aiming it an Ariel, who shrunk back.
"And who is this?" the man asked, turning his eyes on Harry.
The Dursleys' faces turned sour.
"My nephew," Petunia answered, pursing her lips. "He is troubled so do not expect much from him."
Harry forced himself to stay silent.
There was a pause where the man's gaze lingered on Harry's scar, causing Harry to brush his fringe back over it, before turning back to the Dursleys.
"I hope you do not mind but I have taken the liberty of feeding Ariel already," he said. "She has a few allergies, so I thought it would be best."
"Of course, of course," Petunia waved off. "The boy is not eating with us either. He is difficult in formal settings and we did not wish to burden you with that Mr Reynolds."
"I understand. Perhaps Ariel and your nephew can remain here whilst we eat?"
There was an awkward pause.
"Wonderful idea," Vernon exclaimed falsely. His piggy eyes moved to his wife. "Shall we move through to the dining room?"
Harry watched as the adults and Dudley trailed out of the sitting room, Mr Reynolds whispering some firm words into Ariel's ear on his way out. The two teenagers stood in silence for a few moments, before Harry said.
"I'm Harry."
Ariel slipped her thumb out of her mouth for the first time since she had arrived, and said in a small, childlike voice. "Like Harry Potter?"
Harry blinked, before slowly lifting his fringe up and revealing the lightning bolt scar etched into his forehead.
Ariel's eyes widened. "Y…you're him!"
"Er, yeah," Harry said awkwardly. "So, you're, um, magic?"
"Uhuh. But Sir doesn't let me do any."
Harry frowned. "Sir?"
Ariel pointed at the door. "You met him."
"Why doesn't he let you do any magic?" Harry asked. Was Mr Reynolds like the Dursleys?
"He says that when I do magic the bad people can find us," Ariel said. "He gets mad when I do it because he doesn't want the bad people to take me."
A cold, unsettled feeling sunk in Harry's stomach. There was something very wrong about this situation. "Did he really give you dinner already?"
Ariel shook her head. "I was naughty and naughty girls don't get food."
Harry wanted to be sick. She sounded as if she was reciting words back at him. It was one thing that the Dursleys deprived him of food and hit him – he was used to that. It was just the way of things and would be until he turned 17 at which point he could leave them behind forever. But hearing the same thing come from Ariel's mouth, as if there was nothing wrong with it…it made his blood run cold.
"Did you get food?"
"No," he answered softly. To anyone else he would've said yes – hid the truth of his life with the Dursleys away – but it seemed silly to lie about it to Ariel.
The tiny girl nodded. "You're like me then," she said. Ariel put her thumb back in her mouth and didn't say anything else for the rest of the evening.
July continued like most of Harry's Julys did but with one very large difference. Ariel. For all Mr Reynolds determination to keep her hidden and in place, the girl seemed to have a lot of freedom during daylight hours and had once told him,
"Sir doesn't care where I go so long as I stay in Little Whinging and come back for lunch and dinner."
Ariel would often join him on the Dursleys' front lawn whilst he tended to his aunt's flowerbeds. At first, she tried to help but she needed so much supervision it was decided best in the end that Harry tended to the garden alone and she read or coloured. When Harry was free from chores, they would go to the park and waste hours there.
Harry had learned Ariel's childlikeness did not just stop at her speech, looks and mannerisms but in her interests and sense of fun too. She coloured with crayons, carried around plush creatures and could play make-belief for hours. Plus, and this had taken very little time to show itself, she was shockingly naïve about subjects most teenagers had at least some knowledge in. Harry didn't care to teach her the cruder things but certain personal-safety things he did because if he didn't, who would?
Whilst Harry found these features about Ariel adorable and occasionally worrying, the rest of Privet Drive had some crueller things to say about it. More than once he had overheard his aunt on the phone talking about her, saying how she was 'touched in the head' and 'special' and a 'freak'. This made Harry angry. The word 'freak' always would.
"Do you ever try all the spells you read about?" Harry asked Ariel.
The two of them were on the swings at the small park in Little Whinging, taking in the last of the day's sunshine. They had just an hour before Ariel had to go home.
"I did once."
Harry turned his head to look at her. She was staring at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. "What happened?"
When she answered her voice shook and her sentences were short. "I stole Sir's wand to try it and when I did it, it worked. But he walked in on me. He set the house on fire and Apparated us away. He hit me with the belt later. He only does that when I've been very bad."
"What was the spell?" Harry whispered.
"Lumos."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, a heavy cloud hanging around them. Only the sound of the swings creaking met their ears.
"Do your aunt and uncle ever hit you?"
Harry looked up at the darkening sky. "Yes."
"We're the same," Ariel said.
A certain part of Harry's resolve broke as he answered.
"Yes."
July soon ended, and the days melted into August. Harry found he did not mention Ariel in his letters to Ron and Hermione. He was not sure why, but he felt they wouldn't understand. What they wouldn't understand Harry wasn't sure about either.
On August 15th, Harry was invited to Number 6 for lunch. Ariel was happier than he had ever seen her when he arrived, and she wore a tiara on her head as she greeted him. Looming behind her was Mr Reynolds who smiled at Harry and welcomed him inside. Harry had to force a smile back. He didn't want Ariel to get into trouble if her caretaker suspected he knew anything.
"Harry! Look what Sir got me!" Ariel exclaimed excitedly once he was with Number 6's walls. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room where he was confronted by a plush, sparkly pink unicorn that was larger than him. "I named him Charlie."
Harry easily managed a smile for his friend. "He's great."
"And I got a book on unicorns," Ariel added, bouncing on the spot. "And I get to read a copy of The Daily Prophet today."
"Don't you always?" Harry frowned.
"Sir says they're for grown-ups, so I can only read it on special occasions."
Harry opened his mouth to comment on exactly what he thought of that when a cough interrupted them. He turned to see Mr Reynolds standing in the doorway.
"Lunch is ready."
Lunch meant triangle sandwiches with the crusts cut off, tiny cakes, fresh berries and ice-cream. Harry hated that he was a little grateful for the food – he hadn't eaten for three days. Once they had finished, Ariel looked up at Mr Reynolds expectedly.
"Can I read The Daily Prophet now please?" she asked.
Not pausing in clearing up the plates, Mr Reynolds shook his head. "You're not reading the Prophet this year."
"Why not?"
"It will upset you."
"It won't!" Ariel huffed. "I'm 14 now!"
Mr Reynolds grip tightened on the plate in his hand. "Ariel, this is not up for discussion."
"But Sir!"
"YOU ARE NOT READING THE PROPHET!"
Harry jumped at the sudden rage in Mr Reynolds eyes. Ariel's eyes welled up with tears.
Mr Reynolds forced a calming breath. "Ariel do not be a bad girl."
The blonde looked down. "I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered.
"You are forgiven. Now why don't you go to the park with Harry and enjoy the rest of your special day, hm?"
"Yes, Sir."
When Harry got home that evening, he immediately wrote to Hermione asking for her copy of the day's Prophet. He didn't get a subscription, but she did, and he needed to know why Ariel couldn't see it.
It was two days later that Harry got a reply from Hermione in the form of a short letter and a rolled-up newspaper.
'Dear Harry,
You really should get your own subscription you know. It's important to keep up with what's happening in the wizarding world. You never know what you might learn – the 15th's paper being an excellent example. I cannot help but feel bad for Malfoy now, no wonder he is so horrible all the time.
Love,
Hermione.'
Harry frowned, tossed aside the letter and unrolled the newspaper. He immediately found what his friend had meant as sprawled across the front page in bold lettering was: 'SIGHTING OF MISSING MALFOY GIRL – ANNIVERSARY OF HER KIDNAPPING'. He swallowed and flipped to the article's page.
'Fourteen-years-ago today, the Malfoy family suffered a terrible tragedy: the kidnapping of their newborn daughter, Ariel Castor Malfoy. Since that day, the family have been taunted with annual letters from the kidnapper, Augustus Reynolds.
'Until recently, it has been thought Reynolds and Miss Malfoy's whereabouts was somewhere in the continent. That was until an ex-colleague of Reynolds spotted him and Miss Malfoy on Oxford Street in Muggle London. (A photograph taken in the witness's memory is included below).
'Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, assures that efforts to return Miss Malfoy to her family will be doubled in light of recent leads.'
Harry quickly looked for the mentioned photograph, a cold dread already settling upon him, and found it playing on loop beneath the article.
It captured a girl with long hair and wide-eyes being led along by a tall man with dark eyes, whose hand was tightly gripping hers. The girl had her thumb in her mouth as she looked around, skipping alongside the man.
The newspaper fell from Harry's hands.
The girl was Ariel.
