Harry's mouth fell open as he stared stupidly at the little girl. He had not known what to expect when his Muggle cousin had invited him to tea but he had not expected this. Eyes wide, he turned to Dudley to see his cousin looking ashen and helpless as he watched his daughter. Adjusting to the shock, Harry could actually feel it now—the low hum of magic emanating from Dudley's child, permeating the room. Dudley and Linda would not feel it of course, but a witch or wizard in a primarily Muggle space could usually feel one of their own nearby—it was a change in the air, a subtle vibration. As Harry watched the toys' steady, even progress above Daisy's head, he suddenly remembered an 11 year old Ron struggling to levitate a feather with a simple Wingardium Leviosa charm.
Daisy was executing tricky, complicated charms combining sustained levitation and measured movement. Without a wand. Harry knew exactly how much effort it took to master this kind of magic. Very young witches and wizards nearly always manifested their powers long before entering Hogwarts, but even in wizarding families, it often took the form of uncontrolled and sometimes random bursts—a shattered glass, a bouncing resistance to falls; sometimes kids managed simple cleaning spells with a parent's help, or maybe (if they were Harry's eldest son) turned their sibling's hair blue for a prank. But Harry knew it was rare for such a young child, raised in a Muggle family, to execute the kind of magic he was witnessing now. And he could tell from Dudley's face that Daisy had done this before.
Suddenly, as if sensing his thoughts, Daisy whipped around to face Harry and Dudley; the airborne menagerie fell to the ground. Mercifully, the song stopped when the bear crashed on the floor.
"Sorry Daddy!" she cried. Her tiny chin wobbled and her bottom lip stuck out.
"It's OK, love," Dudley rushed to reassure her. "It's OK for Harry to see."
His eyes darting uneasily from his daughter to his cousin, Dudley explained in the unavoidably patronizing tone reserved for speaking simultaneously to and about toddlers, "We know not to 'play' like this in front of Mummy…or Nana or Granddad…or anyone else…but…Harry can see it." Dudley met Harry's green eyes. "Right, Harry?" he addressed his cousin, nodding slightly, his eyes urgent and expectant now.
Harry blinked rapidly and shook himself out of his daze. "Yeah," he said automatically. "Yes. Yes, er, sure."
He crossed the room and knelt down on the floor in front of the little girl.
"Daisy, it's fun to…play…like this, isn't it?" Harry asked gently.
She giggled. "Look, look!" she cried as she sent a stuffed hen whizzing towards Dudley's head.
"Daisy!" her father thundered, ducking out of the way as the hen landed with a soft thump in the hallway.
"More, Daddy, more!" The unicorn now took flight and this one caught Dudley square in the forehead, sending Daisy into peals of laughter.
Harry had to stifle his own laughter at his poor cousin frantically swatted away the unicorn as if it were a rogue Cornish pixie.
"That's NOT nice, Daisy," Harry chided. "We don't throw things at people."
"I didn't throw them!" the toddler proclaimed defiantly, holding up her hands as if to emphasize that she had not picked up the toys with her hands and hurled them.
Harry trained his green eyes on her and asked quietly, "Do you know how you moved them?"
The little girl's blue eyes widened. She stuck her lip out again and shook her head quickly.
"The same way I do," he replied. "Accio unicorn," Harry commanded firmly, his eyes never leaving Daisy. He raised his hand to receive the plush toy as it rocketed into his grasp.
Daisy's eyes widened still further and she let out a little sound between a squeal and a shriek, whether from fear or excitement, Harry could not tell.
"This is magic. You're a witch Daisy, just like I am a wizard." There. He had said the words. In his peripheral vision he could see Dudley slump into a chair, but he could not worry about him just yet. Harry recalled the moment Hagrid had said these words to him, the moment his life changed, the moment he learned the most outlandish, fantastical truth about the world, which made everything suddenly make sense. For various reasons, this revelation would not be as earth-shattering for Daisy, but, like any child of a Muggle family, it would be a demarcation point in her life and the lives of her parents, delineating Before and After.
He smiled at the child. "Some people can do magic," he explained simply. "Most people can't, but some of us can." She listened rapt, as he continued, "Usually people who can—we get this ability from other people in our family. My Mum, your great-aunt Lily, was the cleverest witch of her age. She was especially good at charms—at making things move and behave the way you just did with the toys." Harry gently grasped her shoulder. " You get this from your Aunt Lily," he finished firmly, making sure the child understood.
"Aunt Lily," Daisy repeated dutifully, before squirming away and wandering over to rummage through a pile of dolls in her toy bin.
"I expect you haven't heard much about your Aunt Lily," Harry said loudly, ostensibly in Daisy's direction, but shooting an accusatory look back at Dudley, who squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, you'll learn all about her now," the wizard remarked, running a hand through his unruly mop of black hair.
Harry turned back to the child and motioned her over to him. "Daisy, come here. This is important." He made sure she was paying attention. "Do not ever use magic to hurt or scare someone else. Do you understand?" Daisy nodded solemnly but her mouth screwed up into a mischievous grin.
"I mean it," Harry said sternly. "No throwing things at people, no misbehaving…and your Dad is right. Don't let other people see you doing this…not yet."
"OK," the child promised. "But can I keep making my kitten?"
"Kitten?" Harry looked from Daisy to Dudley in confusion.
"She wants a kitten," Dudley explained weakly. "So she has been…ah," he trailed off, gesturing helplessly with his hands.
Harry looked back to Daisy, who was holding a large baby doll. As her small brow knit in concentration, soft, fluffy patches of tabby fur emerged on the doll's arms and legs, shimmering for a moment, then receding , then emerging again.
"Transfiguration," Harry muttered to himself. "Intentional, concentrated transfiguration."
"Just…er…don't let anyone else see for now, besides your Dad and me, OK?" he pressed.
"Okaaaaaay," Daisy answered in a toddler singsong, her attention focused on her doll
Her father rose from his chair. "Stay here and play for a while, sweetheart. Harry and I are going to talk downstairs."