I honestly don't care at this point, this story is just spilling out.
Vernon Dursley was not stupid.
The house had been closed on two weeks ago and from what he had heard around the neighborhood, there hadn't been a vehicle to deliver furniture or belongings. Yet when he spotted the petite woman strolling out of her new home, he saw that at least the living room had been furnished fully when it had been emptied just the day before.
It told him one thing.
This woman was not normal. She was the not normal type like that boy living in the cupboard under the stairs. She was one of them.
Nothing and no one would stop him from keeping his household away from them.
If anyone asked the workers at Grunnings, Vernon was very short with anyone that day.
Far away, in a different time and place, a young adult woke up from her nap in her 3 hour history lecture.
Damn, I drooled again.
Joan noted that Vernon Dursley was rather too Muggle for her tastes after she went back inside to make a Floo call to her father.
Along with being an Enforcer for the Ministry, Joan took it upon herself to take up wandmaking with her father, Garrick Ollivander. It was a rusty skill for her, not completely new, and she distinctly remembered the summers where she would work with her father, reeking of polish and wood. She had made her own wand as a family tradition when she turned ten with her father's help, and now Charlotte could do the same with her.
Charlotte herself was in the bathroom upstairs, taking turns wretching and laying on the tile floor. She would never do side-along Apparition again, she told herself.
She actually told herself that many times and each time it was a lie. It wasn't until her mother bought a car the following week that she preferred Apparating in comparison to motion-sickness.
As her mother was in and out of the house, Charlotte was given the duty of being the caretaker of the house. Her pale, freckled skin was slathered in sunscreen as she mowed the lawn and weeded the overgrown gardens that were left behind.
Though, two days into her gardening, she realised she had no idea what to plant and went to ask her mother for help one morning before she left for work.
"Ask Mrs. Dursley next door, sorry darling, I don't know much about Muggle gardening myself."
Then her mother left once again.
Then quickly popped back in, "And please do not use the word Muggle, I have a feeling they don't like us magic folk. I left a strawberry rhubarb pie on the counter as a welcoming gift."
"Yes, ok, Mom."
Now Charlotte was actually left home alone again. She pulled on a nice, light blue summer dress that her mother bought for her piano recital this past spring and a pair of white sandals before seeking out Mrs. Dursley's help with the garden. She almost left the house until she passed the mirror by the door and noticed the rats nest of hair atop her head.
How she hated her curly hair. Maybe she could use her magic-
No. No magic. Magic means fire and explosions. Hair and fire don't mix.
Charlotte longed for her mother's help with her hair as she battled the enemy hair with a brush and leave in conditioner for fifteen minutes. She finally managed to untangle it all and put it into her usual thick french braid.
Now, she could go to Mrs. Dursley properly.
The pie was properly cooled by now, though it could have been better warm, but she plodded on over to the front doorstep of the Dursley home and knocked lightly on the door. She saw the curtains shift for a moment, seeing a long necked blond(e) woman checking who was at her front door.
It took a few moments, after hearing voices inside, before Mrs. Dursley opened the door.
"Hello, you're Mrs. Dursley, right? I'm Charlotte Fletcher, I was hoping you could give me some gardening advice. Oh, and my mother made pie for you and your family."
This all came out somewhat fast in her nervousness, but her smile remained steady.
Petunia Dursley was unsure, after hearing her husband speak of the strange neighbors, whether or not to refuse the pie and girl. The girl seemed normal enough, she supposed...
Petunia hesitated and then said, "Why thank you, come on in."
So Charlotte entered and saw the Dursley home. She saw many photos upon the walls of a blond(e), pink faced boy and his parents. The oldest pictures showed that the boy was obviously younger, maybe five or six. Petunia gestured for her to sit down upon the love seat while she placed the pie in the kitchen, where it would probably never been seen again as Charlotte heard heavy footsteps in the hall behind her.
Mrs. Dursley said something to the owner of the footsteps before coming back out to sit across from Charlotte.
"So you wish for gardening advice?" the older woman asked, drinking from a small cup of tea.
Charlotte nodded, "Yes, I was wondering what plants could be planted this time of year..."
The two spoke of gardening for all of ten minutes until they heard a cry from the kitchen.
It turns out Dudley Dursley was allergic to rhubarb and had been told already not to eat the pie, Charlotte learned as she was left inside the Dursley house alone while the two rushed to the hospital.
What was she supposed to do now?
Charlotte walked down the hall between the front door and the kitchen, along the stairs when she heard something shuffle inside the cupboard under the stairs.
It was locked. The young witch debated with her curiosity for a good minute before a small voice in the back of her mind spoke.
'A boy...help him.'
It almost didn't feel like she had a choice as her fingers slid the lock out of place and opened the cupboard.
There was a boy. No older than five. In a cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive.
'Harry Potter. His name.'
"Excuse me, but does your name happen to be Harry Potter? No one is here, the boy and his mother left for the hospital."
The little boy, with jet black hair and green eyes, shied away from Charlotte and further into the cupboard. She noticed he was awfully skinny for such a little boy and immediately was reminded of the street urchins in those movies she used to watch in America.
The boy did nod, saying, "Yes, my name is Harry Potter."
"Do you want some pie, Harry?"
Luckily, even if the two boys were related, the rhubarb allergy came from Vernon Dursley because little Harry Potter did not have a reaction to the pie. Charlotte cleaned up the pie, leaving an apology note for the Dursleys before leaving.
"Miss?" Harry called from his cupboard, "What's your name?"
Charlotte's silver eyes met Harry's green through the grate, smiling as she said, "I'm Charlotte Johanna Ollivander-Fletcher. I hope we meet again, Harry."
One must be wondering, why didn't she take Harry away from the Dursleys?
Charlotte just knew she couldn't take him away, her mother would have thrown a fit and it would have caused a lot of trouble for her. So, if Mrs. Dursley made him stay in that cupboard, it should look like he was there the whole time neither of them got in trouble.
Though Charlotte did cause a fire in Mrs. Dursley's garden after seeing Vernon kick Harry. Each time Charlotte saw something bad happen to Harry, there would be a sudden lurch in her magic to make them burn. Usually it was just their yard. Usually.
Occasionally through the summer, Joan would catch Charlotte peeking through a hole in the fence to the Dursley's back yard and would always ask what she was looking for.
Charlotte would always give the same answer, with what her mother called a Slytherin smirk, "I'm learning how to take care of things."
One particularly hot day, Joan realized she had forgotten to give Charlotte her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. It was her first day off between the Ministry and her father. Perhaps it was the first week in June that she remembered receiving the letter personally from Dumbledore as she was helping her father with the books.
It was now July 3rd, and if there ever was a day to go school supply shopping, today was it.
"Rise and shine, we're going to London today!"
Charlotte groggily lifted her head from her pillow and Joan almost cringed at the bed head her daughter had clearly inherited from her father. Joan used a few minor hair spells she picked up from witch's salons to calm her daughter's wild mane of hair after the shower.
When Charlotte's hands habitually went to braid her hair, Joan brushed them away and told her, "I'm sorry I haven't been here as often as I used to, darling, but today you'll be meeting your grandfather for the first time. Let me work some magic on this hair of yours..."
Using her fingers to comb the hair as she dried the curls, the weight of the hair finally dragged the hair into calmer waves that revealed her daughter's kinky curls were much longer than what they had both thought. All the way down her back and then some.
"We should get you a haircut before you leave for school. Scratch that, you are getting a haircut before you go to Diagon Alley."
The salon witch chopped a solid ten inches of length off before actually cutting Charlotte's hair. There were several layers added in that lifted a lot of weight off of the ten-year old's head.
Once done, Charlotte walked around with a slight bobble head until her mother's hand held it in place until they reached Diagon Alley.
"We'll get your wand last, since that will take the longest. How about we see about a pet first?"
Charlotte looked at her mother with a dead stare as she was nearly dragged along to the pet store. Charlotte knew animals didn't like her, and owls frightened the living daylights our of her. Toads were disgusting to touch. The best she could hope for was a nice cat.
Nearing the owl post, Charlotte almost ran into the store just so she could get out faster. The rowdy pet shop was no more rowdy or quiet upon her entering the shop. That was a good sign.
"Wait here, Charlotte, I'll get the assistant to show us the cats specifically."
The ten year old groaned inwardly, wishing she was allergic to cats. There were Kneazles too, but they were like cats and a needed license or something.
The assistant was a young man with a pair of square spectacles and light brown hair, his name was Andrew.
"Choosing a pet is like getting a wand, they choose you, or you choose each other."
Charlotte huffed, "Well, looks like I won't be getting a pet, Mom."
"Charlotte-Johanna, don't say that, you never know."
In all honesty, Joan half-agreed with her daughter as they passed several cats that hissed or hid from Charlotte. They were passing into half-Kneazle and Kneazle territory when Joan almost turned around.
A black and beige tabby patterned Kneazle with glaring green eyes was securely intent on Charlotte's figure. It notably had a small white-beige beard that ended in a tip, reminding her of a severe looking doctor back in America.
Joan tapped Andrew on the shoulder and pointed at the particular Kneazle.
"Oh, him. That's our mystery Kneazle right there, just showed up here 6 years ago and has sat in that cage since. Won't let anyone touch him after he got his shots."
Joan felt something akin to that night six years ago, and as worrying as it was, she guided her daughter towards the Kneazle with the goatee.
Charlotte neared him and immediately had one of those moments where she just knew.
"Doc."
The name escaped her in a large breath that left her a little more tired than it should have.
The Kneazle instantly started pawing at the bars to be let out, Andrew opened the cage very quickly, and the cat-like creature reached for Charlotte to be picked up.
'I missed you.'
Had the newly dubbed Doc not started hissing when Joan tried to hold him, Joan would have felt a little better about the purchase. The cat wrapped itself around Charlotte's tiny shoulders like a scarf for the duration of the trip and would refuse to get off unless Charlotte put him down herself.
Joan hoped her father wouldn't mind the creature during the wandmaking.
Peace out, peeps! R&R.