For the first ten years of her life, Violet Potter had thought she was a perfectly ordinary girl.
Well, sort of.
She woke to weak morning sunlight peeking through the curtains and a chorus of birdsong. Today was the big day! Her stomach churned as she sat up and pushed tangled red hair out of green eyes. A deep breath. Hopefully he liked it.
"Psst," She hissed across the room to the second bed. Uncle Vernon could have slept through an earthquake but if he heard so much as a whisper from this room, he would be awake in a flash.
The lump under the covers did not react.
"Pssst!" She tried again impatiently.
Nothing.
With a sigh, Violet rummaged around on the floor until she found one of her slippers. She took a moment to line up her shot before hurling it across the room. It hit its target and bounced off the lump.
Her brother shot up instantly, black hair even more of a mess than usual. He looked around, eyes still half-closed, "What?"
"Oh, good morning to you too," She poked her tongue out and grinned, "Happy birthday, bed head!"
Harry rummaged around on his bedside table for his glasses. Once he could see, he looked across at her, "Thanks," He mumbled, "Couldn't it have waited?"
"Don't you want your present then?"
"You got me a present?" His eyes lit up.
"Duh, it's not every day your big brother turns twelve!" Violet felt her stomach turn over nervously as she reached under the bed. She pulled out a small parcel wrapped carefully in tinfoil.
Harry took it and unwrapped the foil. Inside was a small fine figure, a wizard with a long pointy hat and black cloak sitting on a broomstick with a black cat on the end. She had drawn a pair of circular glasses on with black pen.
Violet watched him anxiously, "Do you like it? I saw it in town a few weeks ago and thought of you."
He did not answer immediately, he was turning it over in his hands and taking in every detail. At last, he looked up at her, "How did you afford it? Are the Dursleys giving you pocket money?"
She snorted, "Hardly. You know old Mrs Savage in the next street over? I did her garden for her last week."
Harry was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, "This is the first present I've ever gotten from family."
"I know," Violet was playing with her hands, "Happy birthday."
Harry placed the figure down carefully on his bedside table and got up. He walked across the room, dropped himself onto Violet's mattress and took her up in a big hug. Slightly taken aback, Violet hugged back, "You like it then?"
"I love it."
Violet let out a deep sigh of relief. She had been worried about it for days, worried about how he would take it. She grinned again, "So! Is a giant going to kick down our door this year as well?"
Harry's smile dropped instantly. He looked away towards the blinds but without really seeing.
"I don't think so," he said quietly.
Violet felt her stomach lurch in guilt, "Still no letters?"
"No."
"Maybe they can't find the house?" She suggested hesitantly.
He shook his head in frustration, "Owls can find anyone."
There was nothing she could say to that. She had been delighted when Harry had come back from Hogwarts because, for the first time that she could remember, he had been happy. He was also the only one who hadn't treated her as if she had a horrible illness. As the weeks had dragged on over the summer without contact from his friends though, he had become more and more sullen. There was nothing she could do to cheer him up, try she might.
"So," she started but at once she was interrupted by a deafening screech. Hedwig had awoken and was beating her wings against her padlocked cage.
At once there was a roar from down the hall, Uncle Vernon's voice thundering, "Owl!"
"Quick!" Violet pushed Harry off her bed. He needed no further encouragement as heavy footsteps thumped on the carpet landing.
As Harry jumped back into bed, Violet jumped out. She was just on her feet when the door was thrown open. Uncle Vernon was short, wide, and, currently, very purple. He was blinking sleep from small and sharp eyes, moustache bristling.
"It was me," Violet's stomach flipped in fear as she said it but Uncle Vernon ignored her.
"You!" he roared at Harry who was pretending to be asleep. He gave a good impression of jumping awake and turning to look up at his Uncle, "Shut that ruddy owl up!"
Hedwig, far from going quiet, screeched even louder.
"She'll quieten down if you let her out," Harry said.
"Into the street?" Uncle Vernon barked mockingly, "Absolutely not! Get her under control, then go start breakfast! Now!"
He slammed the door so fiercely that it felt like the whole room shook. Harry looked over to Violet, "That could have been worse."
"It will be if you're not frying bacon in the next five minutes. Go on, I'll calm Hedwig down."
"Thanks Vi," Harry put on his dressing gown and hurried down the stairs.
Violet stoked at Hedwig's beak through the bars cooing softly. She really was beautiful, snowy white with those large and expressive eyes. It was hard not to be jealous of Harry for having so wonderful a pet. The owl soon quietened down, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the stroking and the attention. She heard the family going down the stairs for dinner one at a time; one heavy set of footsteps that were Uncle Vernon's, the lighter and sharper steps of Aunt Petunia and finally the thump, thump of Dudley. The smell of bacon wafted up to the bedroom and her stomach rumbled but it was only when Hedwig had completely settled that Violet pulled on her dressing down.
"Sorry, girl," she said, "Hopefully he'll let you out soon."
Uncle Vernon was still shouting about Hedwig down in the kitchen. He brandished his fork as he ranted, "-Third time this week! If you don't learn to control that owl, it'll have to go!"
"She's bored!" Harry explained as Violet took her seat between him and Uncle Vernon. She had to squeeze in past Dudley who was shovelling bacon into his wide mouth as if he'd not eaten for a week, "If I could just let her out at night."
"Do I look like a fool?" Uncle Vernon snapped over his nephew. It was nothing Violet hadn't heard before and she let the words wash over her without paying attention. She was more interested in her toast and the front door.
"Pass the bacon!" Dudley demanded from across the table and making her jump.
"You forgot the magic word," Harry said, annoyed.
He had done it now. Aunt Petunia clapped her hands to her mouth and Dudley collapsed off his chair with a squeak. Uncle Vernon went the colour of beetroot and leapt to his feet as if he had been electrocuted.
"I meant 'please'!" Harry tried to repair the damage but too late.
"What have I told you!" Uncle Vernon roared, a vein throbbing in his temple, "About using the 'M' word in this house!"
Violet winced as her uncle all but bellowed in her ear and sprayed her toast with spit. She brought her hand up to protect her hearing, though it was still ringing.
"How dare you threaten Dudley!"
"I don't think he was threatening anyone," Violet tried to say in a quiet voice but Uncle Vernon rounded on her at once.
"Silence! I wasn't talking to you!" He roared, all but nose-to-nose with her. Violet shrank away from his anger and her eyes dropped to the floor.
"Don't shout at her!" Harry said angrily, "She didn't do anything!"
"Silence! I will not have this insolence!" Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to burst.
"Alright!" Harry said it sulkily, "Alright."
Uncle Vernon dropped into his seat, breathing as though he'd just finished a marathon. He glared between Harry and Violet as if daring them to speak again.
Violet kept her eyes on her toast. She kept her breathing shallow and quiet in case it triggered her uncle again. That cold feeling had not gone, that fear. At the same time, she was straining for the sound of the letterbox. She had done the same every morning for a fortnight, ever since her birthday. Maybe today would be the day.
"Now," Uncle Vernon cleared his throat and interrupted her thoughts, "As we all know, today is a very important day."
Violet did not react, though Harry looked up hopefully. She wasn't sure why. There could be only one thing he was talking about.
"Today could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career."
Harry went back to his breakfast. Of course, Uncle Vernon was talking about the dinner party. They had spoken about nothing else for weeks.
"Now, I think we should go through the plan one last time. The Masons will be arriving at 7. I will greet them at the door. Petunia, you will be?"
"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia, "waiting to welcome our guests to our home."
"Good, good, and you, Dudley?"
"I will be at the front door," Dudley raised his pudgy hands and put on a simpering voice, "May I take your coat, Mr and Mrs Mason?"
"They'll love him," Aunt Petunia wailed, misty eyed.
"And you?" Uncle Vernon turned gruffly to Violet.
"I'll be in the lounge with drinks," Violet said it automatically, without looking up.
"Which are?"
"Brandy for Mr Mason, sherry for Mrs Mason."
Uncle Vernon gave a snort before wheeling around to his nephew, "And you?"
Harry answered dully, "I'll be in my room making no noise and pretending I don't exist."
"Too right you will," said Uncle Vernon viciously, "Now I think we should aim to get a few compliments in at dinner. Petunia?"
"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr Mason. Where did you get that beautiful dress, Mrs Mason?"
"Excellent. Dudders?"
"How about," Dudley had screwed up his face. He always did when he had to think, "We had to write a report on our hero in school, Mr Mason, and I wrote it about you."
"Oh Dudley!" Aunt Petunia sounded like she was about to cry. Violet looked up at Dudley with raised eyebrows while Harry snorted derisively at her plate.
"Very good Dudley!" Uncle Vernon nodded approvingly and then glared at Violet, "You can stay quiet. They don't need to hear you."
Good thing too, Violet thought as she closed her mouth, what could she possibly follow up that winner with?
"And you?" Uncle Vernon asked harshly of Harry.
"I'll be in my room making no noise and pretending I don't exist."
"You ruddy well better," Uncle Vernon snarled, "The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. After dinner, Petunia, you will bring Mrs Mason into the dining room, and I'll bring the conversation around to drills."
Violet had stopped listening to her uncle. She was too busy watching her brother, who was poking at his half-eaten toast with a fork. His feelings were written across his glum face. She reached out under the table and gave him a little kick. He looked up and she gave him a smile. He returned it weakly.
"Now!" Uncle Vernon slapped the table and made her jump, "Go help your aunt with the cleaning! You!" He jabbed a finger at Harry, "Stay out of their way!"
Harry stormed from the table without a word. Violet tried to go after him, but her path was quickly blocked by a glowering Uncle Vernon.
"Where do you think you're going? Go help your aunt! Right now!" He shouted, pointing back into the kitchen. Faced with her furious and towering uncle, Violet felt herself wilt. She would catch up with Harry later, before the Masons arrived.
Aunt Petunia, however, had plenty for her to do. She swept the floors, cleaned the mantelpiece, wiped the glassware, hoovered the carpets, polished the cabinets again and again until she could see her thin, pale face in it. Only once every little silver elephant, thimble and flower was burnished to perfection was her aunt satisfied.
The monotonous work was only broken up by some shouting from the garden. Harry had teased Dudley by pretending to do magic on him. It was the worst thing he could have possibly done. Of course, Aunt Petunia had punished him by making him work outside because of it.
Violet kept glancing out the windows at her brother slogging away in the heat. She finished cleaning the bathroom, checked that Aunt Petunia was busy downstairs and crept over to the window, wet sponge in hand. Harry was washing the car with his face glistening with sweat. She took careful aim and threw.
The sponge landed on the roof with a splash and made Harry yelp in surprise. He spun around and glared up at his smiling sister. He went back to washing.
"Having fun?" She asked, leaning on the window.
"Oh yes," he did not look up, "This is exactly how I wanted to spend my birthday."
Her smile slipped at the bitterness in his voice, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said sharply, "There's nothing wrong at all."
He threw his sponge into the bucket with such force that a great spout of soapy water soaked him from head to foot.
Violet flinched away from the anger, "I'm sorry."
He shook his head, hands on his hips as he looked up to the sky, "I'm sorry, Vi. You're the only one who remembered. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, I think I'm done in here," She glanced around to make doubly sure, "I could come down, maybe see if I can help you?"
Harry just shook his head and went back to work.
Aunt Petunia stood with hands on hips, a feather duster in one hand and a turkey baster in the other.
"Certainly not!" She snapped, "You have enough to do in here."
"But I've done everything you told me to," Violet pleaded.
"Have you done the sofa and chairs?"
"You didn't ask-"
"Have you polished the mirror over the fireplace?"
"I-"
"Wiped the window sills?"
"But-"
"Then you're not done," Aunt Petunia said sharply, "Finish your cleaning then go upstairs and get ready! He's fine out there by himself."
"He's not!" Violet found her own anger rising.
Aunt Petunia pursed her lips tightly, "Don't you dare speak to me like that, wait until I tell your Uncle-"
"It's his birthday!" Violet shouted. The silence hung between them. Violet was breathing heavily but she pressed on, "It's his birthday. Please, Aunt Petunia, please let me go help him."
Aunt Petunia stared at her, her face slightly pale. Violet found her aunt often looked at her like this, with eyes vacant as if she wasn't really seeing her.
She shook her head, "Go finish your chores. Now! Before I tell your uncle."
Violet slouched into the living room. The furniture was filled with crumbs of course, all from Dudley watching TV, and tiny stains a normal person wouldn't have noticed but Aunt Petunia would spot from fifty paces. She scrubbed roughly, scowling down at the material. It wasn't fair! She knew Aunt Petunia had found these chores just to keep her away from Harry. She had gone ten long months without seeing her big brother and now he was home, it felt like the Dursleys were doing everything in their power to keep them apart. She hated it. She hated her aunt, she hated this house, she hated everything about her life.
It was early evening by the time she was done. Her shoulders ached from the scrubbing and her stomach rumbled. Her heart sank and her misery grew. Another day without a letter. That made it fourteen days since she had turned eleven.
Fourteen days since it should have come.
"It's nearly seven! Go, get changed!" She heard Aunt Petunia call from the kitchen.
She tramped up to the bathroom and stopped. Dudley had left it a mess, water everywhere, towel on the floor, sink full of soap. With a defeated sigh, she started cleaning again. If there was so much as a stray hair, it would be her who got the blame, not Dudley, or worse, Harry.
Only once it was spotless again did she wash quickly and go to change into her evening dress. It was a horrible velvet thing, too long for her by a foot and a revolting brown colour. Aunt Petunia must have found it in the depths of the attic or in some penny store in town. She checked herself in the mirror and her face fell. She looked so stupid, like something from an old film, thin and tired. When Dudley saw it, he was going to wet himself.
With a resigned sigh, she headed from the bathroom.
And ran into Harry in the landing.
His black hair was slick with sweat and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. His top and his hands were filthy. He stopped abruptly when he saw her.
"How do I look?" She asked hopefully with her arms out. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought.
He shook his head. That brief bubble of hope deflated with a rasp.
"Enjoy your evening," he said with such a sorry expression that Violet reacted without thinking. She took him up in a huge hug.
"Happy birthday, Harry," she said, fighting back those tears again, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," He pulled them apart and stared in horror, "Vi, your dress."
She looked down and her heart stopped. There was now a big smear of black dirt down the front of her dress, stark against the brown. Her hands came to her mouth as panic filled her mind.
"Oh no," Was all she could whisper. It was so obvious on the material and there was nothing else for her to wear. Her hands were shaking, "Oh no. Harry, what do I do? They're going to kill me…"
"It's okay," Harry was saying but his voice was distant, like he was talking to her through a wall, "It's okay Vi. Maybe you can find something in the kitchen to take the worst of it off?"
"Yeah," she said weakly, "Yeah, maybe."
He gave her a quick squeeze, "Good luck. If you can't get it out, tell them I sat on it. They'll believe that no problem."
"I can't do that," she was breathing heavily, "You'll be in such trouble."
"Nothing new there then," He gave her a smile, "I can handle it, Vi. Now hurry up, before the Masons get here."
Violet nodded and hurried for the stairs. Please don't let Uncle Vernon be there already. Please let him still be in the lounge.
She froze at the top of the stairs. Uncle Vernon was standing there in his dinner jacket with Dudley beside him. She felt paralysed, her heart thumping. Her hands were starting to shake again.
Uncle Vernon gave her a long look, "Yes, very good! Come on," He snapped his fingers impatiently, "Go get the drinks!"
She didn't move. It was like her mind was refusing to process what he had said.
"But," She said slowly, "My dress?"
"What about your dress?" He barked, "What's wrong with it?"
Violet looked down, trembling hand rubbing over the stain. Except the stain was gone. There was no mud, only the disgusting brown velvet. She had never been so happy to see it in her life.
But how?
"They're here!" Uncle Vernon shouted in alarm, "You! Go now! Hurry!"
Without another word, Violet scurried for the kitchen. She felt like she could have floated along the ceiling such was her relief. Where had it gone? Surely it could only be one thing. She wanted to sing in happiness. Wait until she told Harry!
Though at the back of her mind came a nagging doubt.
If it was what she thought it was, why had she still not gotten a letter?