It was quite possibly the most miserable that Violet had ever felt.
That was a big claim after eleven long years of living with the Dursleys, but she could think of no other time her situation had been worse than this.
There had been her first day in school, when she had worn a uniform two sizes too big for her and having the whole class laugh at her. There had been the time she had accidentally set fire to Dennis Miggin's lunchbox as he teased her. There had even been the time Aunt Marge came to visit and played a game of 'Hunt the Potter' with her dog after Harry had climbed up a tree to escape it. None of them compared to this.
At least she knew how Harry had felt after all these years, being forced into the cupboard any time he had done something wrong. It was even more cramped than normal. She was smaller than Harry, but he hadn't been sharing it with a large trunk, a big cauldron, and a long, bristly broomstick. There wasn't even enough room for her to lie down properly and so she stayed curled up, trying to get comfortable as something sharp poked into her back. The vent on the door was closed and the air quickly became unpleasant. It was hot and sticky, musty and dry.
Her only relief came when Aunt Petunia brought her food three times a day. With the morning and evening trips, she was allowed to use the bathroom as well. Even with those trips, she had quickly lost track of time. It felt like she had been in the cupboard for weeks. Her mouth was bone dry; her lips were chapped, and her stomach ached with hunger. How had Harry ever put up with this?
To think she had been worried about going to Stonewall High. At this rate, she was going to be lucky if she was allowed back into the lounge let alone going to any school.
This really had been the cherry on top of the cake of what had been the worst year of her life. After Hagrid had taken Harry from that rotten cabin way out to sea, everything had changed. With her brother away to Hogwarts and Dudley at Smeltings it had been just her, her Uncle and her aunt. Ten long months of being treated like a cross between an unexploded bomb and a particularly hideous slug.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The whole cupboard shook as Uncle Vernon went upstairs. Violet ducked her head and put her hands over her eyes as dust rained down from the ceiling, not that it helped. She coughed violently as the dust stung at her dry throat. Her eyes were already raw, her nose burned and with the vent closed, the dust would just hang in the air for hours. A few spiders fell from the stairs and she scrambled furiously to get them out of her hair.
A second set of footsteps, lighter this time. That was Aunt Petunia going up as well so it must be evening. That meant next was…
Yes, the heaviest footsteps yet. It was more like an elephant was making its way up to bed. The dust fell not as a shower but as a monsoon and Violet coughed violently as it rained down on her head.
She was exhausted, more tired than she had ever felt, and yet she could not sleep. Every time her heavy eyes drooped shut, the cramp in her legs or the rumble in her stomach jerked her awake again. It would happen for hours, until she heard those same rumbling footsteps, until her door was opened to let her use the bathroom. It was hard not to feel like she had been abandoned.
It must have been hours later that she heard a sound. It sounded like an engine revving but then that was nothing new, some of the local boy racers liked bringing their cars into the quiet part of town and race them up and down the roads. At least she knew it was early in the morning.
A little while later, she heard footsteps from upstairs.
She looked up at the underside of the stairs and frowned. They were too light to be Uncle Vernon or Dudley's and Aunt Petunia never got up during the night. Could it be Harry, pacing around his room? No, it sounded like more than one set.
They were moving now, out on the landing. They were soft and slow, obviously trying to avoid making too much noise. Burglars? That was the only thing she could think. It was a sign of how bad things had gotten, and how numb she had become to it, that she wasn't even scared. She just wondered if they were going to steal the television. Dudley might die of shock if they did.
They were on the stairs now. For the first time since she had been locked in her tiny, dark cell, no dust fell on her head as they came down, step by step. How had they gotten in? It couldn't have been Harry's room, not with the thick metal bars Uncle Vernon had had installed in the window. Probably Dudley's room, her cousin was like his dad, nothing woke him up once he was asleep.
They were on the hall now. She could hear quiet whispers. They stopped just outside the cupboard door. She was breathing quickly now, tensed in a way she had not been before. What did they want with the cupboard under the stairs? Did they think there was a hoover or something?
A gentle rap on the door.
"Hello?" Whispered a voice, "We're friends of Harry's. We're going to open the door. Please don't scream."
"Well," Said a second voice, eerily similar to the second, "You can if you want but it'll not be good for anyone."
The bolt slid back, and the door opened.
Violet put her hands up to shield her eyes. Even the moonlight was blinding after so long in the dark. It took a moment before she could see who was standing in front of her, two boys, identical in every way from their flaming red hair to their faces to their jumpers, were standing grinning at her. She must have been seeing double after so long in the dark.
"Violet?" Asked the boy on the left.
She didn't answer. This was a very weird dream she was having.
"Guess not, Fred," said the other boy, "We must have got the wrong cupboard under the stairs."
"Sorry, let us introduce ourselves." Said the first boy pointing to himself, "Fred and George Weasley. We know Harry from school."
"What are you doing here?" She asked, voice croaky from lack of use, "How did you get here?"
"That would be telling," grinned the second boy, who she thought was George.
"And we're here," said Fred, "To get Harry's broom, his trunk, his cauldron and, um, oh yeah, his sister. Come on."
He offered her a hand and Violet hesitated. If it was a dream, she decided, it was better than what she was going to wake up to.
She reached out and took his hand. Fred pulled her up to her feet and Violet winced at the stiffness.
"Come on," George whispered, "We'll get the stuff from under the stairs."
"Watch the bottom stair," She started but Fred nodded.
"It creaks, we know. We won't be a moment."
Violet snuck up the stairs, moving as lightly and as slowly as she could. Uncle Vernon and Dudley wouldn't wake up but if Aunt Petunia heard any of them…
The bedroom door was open. How they had unlocked it, she had no idea. Magic, perhaps? Harry was at the window, passing his birthday present out to another red-haired boy in the front seat of a…
Now she was definitely dreaming. She had to be. Because it looked to her like he was sitting in the front seat of a flying car.
"Violet!" Harry dropped the book he had been handing out and wrapping her up in a hug. She winced as he squeezed her thin frame, "Are you hurt? Have they been starving you?"
"I've been fine," She gave him a reassuring smile, "But I think I'm going mad."
"Oh, this is nothing," Harry waved his arm dismissively and pulled her over to the window by her sleeve, "Ron, this is Violet, my sister."
"Hi," said Ron awkwardly, frozen from where he had tried to stop Harry's book from falling to ground outside, "Is there anything you'd like to bring with you?"
Violet looked around the room, her home for the first eleven years of her life. The truth was there wasn't much special in here for her. There was only one thing she could think of, in her bedside table was a shoebox in which were the only things worth keeping. She took it carefully and handed it out to Ron.
She climbed carefully onto the drawers and clambered out into the car as Fred and George appeared with Harry's school things. With some effort they got them into the car then the twins followed. It was only when her brother slipped up onto the drawers that Violet hissed at him.
"Harry! You've forgotten-"
Too late.
Hedwig screeched loudly from her cage, beating her wings furiously. From within the house came the booming voice of Uncle Vernon, "THAT RUDDY OWL!"
Harry had gone pale as he scrambled back down and rushed across the room. He had just passed the cage out the window as Uncle Vernon smashed the door open with one bang of his fist.
For a long moment he just stood and stared. With a roar like an angry gorilla, he charged across the room and grabbed Harry by the ankle. Her brother cried out as he was pulled back towards the bedroom.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, "He's getting away! He's getting away!"
George and Ron had grabbed Harry by the arms and were trying to pull him into the car, but Uncle Vernon was a large and heavy man. He was pulling back with all his might and, as hard as the twins tried, Harry was slipping through their grip. He was being dragged back into the house or, worse, he was going to fall between the gap to the ground beneath.
"You're going nowhere, boy!" Uncle Vernon was baring his teeth, "Just wait until I get you back into this room…"
She could only imagine what he was going to do. A hundred horrible possibilities ran through her mind. Harry slipped a little further and her panic rose. He was going to fall, she knew it.
With a bang and a yell of surprise, Uncle Vernon was thrown across the room like he had been shot from a catapult. He crashed through the open door and landed in the hall, barely missing his wife and son as they came to the door.
"Put your foot down Fred!" Ron yelled as they pulled Harry into the car.
With a rev of the engine, the car shot up into the night sky. Harry landed on the backseat in a pile of jumpers and limbs. When he had untangled himself, he moved over to the window to look back at the stunned Dursleys.
"See you next summer!" He called.
The three Weasley boys roared with laughter. Violet did not. She was sitting stunned, hardly daring to believe what they had done. Those same terrible punishments were running through her mind only now they were going to be so much worse, and she was going to share them.
As they travelled amongst the clouds and the stars, Violet found herself with conflicting emotions. She had never flown before and the world passing beneath them like fireflies to be beautiful. On the other hand, the car rocked from side to side in the wind which she found very alarming. She shivered fiercely. Even with the heater on, she had only been wearing a t-shirt and it was freezing. She wrapped her arms around herself to try and warm herself.
"Here," Harry put his jumper around her shoulders, "Don't worry about Uncle Vernon. He'll have forgotten this by next summer."
"I don't think he will," she said in a low voice, teeth chattering. She didn't mention the other thing on her mind. Harry might have been going back to his school, but at the moment she had no choice but to go to Stonewall High and back to Privet Drive. Maybe she should have just stayed under the stairs.
"What happened when he grabbed me?" Harry asked, "Was that you?"
"I don't know," She shrugged, "I certainly didn't mean to."
"Just more proof you belong at Hogwarts," Harry nodded his head in that way he did when he knew he was right and turned his attention to the shoebox, "What's in this?"
"Not much," she said, gaze suddenly at her feet, "Just something important to me."
Harry grinned broadly, "Not much you say?"
Like lightning he reached out and took the box. Violet went to protest but her voice died in her throat as he opened the lid. Inside were letters, written on parchment and carefully rolled up so they all fitted. Harry took the first one and frowned.
"I recognise these," He said quietly, "Letters that I sent you? All of them?"
Violet gave a sheepish smile, but she still couldn't look at him. She was practically glowing with embarrassment.
Harry put the parchment back in the box and carefully replaced the lid.
"So, Harry!" Ron looked back from the front seat, "What's been going on? Why haven't you been answering my letters all summer?"
Harry filled in the Weasleys on what had been happening over the summer and Violet found her eyes getting heavier and heavier. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon and the sky was moving from a deep blue to a fierce pink when George peered out.
"Not far to go now, that's the village," He gestured down at the tiny little cluster of lights, "Ottery Saint Catchpole. Only ten minutes away. Just as well, it's getting light."
"Perfect," said Fred from the front seat, "We'll park up the car, sneak in before mum wakes up and no one need ever know we flew tonight."
The car touched down with a jolt in front of the most remarkable house Violet had ever seen. Far from the identical boxy houses of Privet Drive, it resembled a large stone pigsty with bits hanging on everywhere and worryingly lopsided. There was enough clutter in the front garden to give Aunt Petunia fits and chickens wandered around, pecking at the ground. A sign stuck at an angle beside the gate named it 'The Burrow'.
"It's not much," Ron said hurriedly.
"It's brilliant!" Harry cut across him. Violet wasn't so sure. It looked like it was a strong breeze away from falling on its side.
"Right," George said, "We'll sneak back up to our rooms. Harry, Violet, you go with Ron. Then when mum's up you can run down and say 'look who turned up in the night!' and no one need be any the wiser."
Violet could see a few tiny flaws in this plan but she did not voice them. She just wrapped Harry's jumper tighter around herself. Even with the sun rising, it wasn't any warmer. Ron seemed happy enough with the instructions,
"Right, you two, come on. My room's just up the…uh oh."
Ron had suddenly gone a nasty green colour. Everyone else whipped around to see a plump lady with the same vivid red hair as the Weasleys approaching like an army officer. She was wearing an apron with a wand in the pinny. She had a kind face, or at least as kind a face as anyone who looked as livid as she did could.
"Ah," said George.
"Oh dear," said Fred.
Then it began. Their mum, for it could be no one else, erupted at them within seconds. It felt like it went on forever, the woman bellowing herself hoarse at her three sons who cowered before her rage. Violet hid as much behind Harry as she could and braced herself for the inevitable punishment. She wondered if they had a big enough cupboard for all five of them.
At last, red-faced and a little breathless, she turned to the Potters. Violet moved a little more behind Harry and even he took a step back to brace himself.
"Welcome dears," she said in a kind voice, "Come in, come in. You must be hungry."
Both looked at Ron. He gave them an encouraging thumbs up.
The kitchen was as far removed from that in Privet Drive as it was possible to be; wooden, cramped and a little old fashioned but clean and, best of all, warm. Loose pieces of clothing, books and toys were scattered across every surface. In the corner was a large clock with no times on the face but things like 'Time to Feed the Chickens' and 'You're late'. The deep kitchen sink was full of dishes that seemed to be washing themselves and Violet could not take her eyes off them. The air was full of the smell of sizzling sausages and crackling bacon. Violet's stomach gave a painful pang of longing.
Once everyone was seated at the table, Mrs Weasley began to dish out breakfast. Every so often she'd shoot one of her sons a glare and mutter under her breath things like "don't know what you were thinking" and "completely irresponsible."
"They were starving them, mum!" Ron protested.
"You be quiet!" Mrs Weasley snapped back but it was with a softer expression that she turned to Violet.
"Here you are, my dear," She tipped half a dozen sausages onto her plates, "There's more as well if you'd like them."
The breakfast was the best thing she had ever eaten. The largest as well, no sooner had she cleared her plate than Mrs Weasley was back with more of everything.
A figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a small and red-haired girl about Violet's age in a nightgown. She saw Harry, froze on the spot as if petrified and fled back up the stairs.
"Ginny," Ron muttered to Harry, "You've no idea how weird it is for her to be this quiet, she normally never shuts up."
Across the table, Fred yawned, "Blimey, I'm tired! I think I'll go to bed and-"
"You'll do no such thing!" Mrs Weasley snapped at him, "You're going to go de-gnome the garden. You two as well!" She put a hand up as all three groaned in protest before turning gently to Harry and Violet, "You two can go to bed dears, you must have had a long night."
"I don't mind helping!" Harry said at once.
"I appreciate that dear, but it's boring work."
"I really don't mind, Mrs Weasley. I've never seen a de-gnoming before."
"Well," she sighed, "Alright then." She turned her attention to Violet, "You though, I think need to go to bed."
Violet was about to protest. She wanted to go with Harry but with her stomach full and the kitchen being as cozy as it was, she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Come on, dear," Mrs Weasley put a hand on her shoulder as the boys left through the back door. Violet flinched instinctively, the memories of being grabbed and pushed by Uncle Vernon still fresh. Mrs Weasley pulled back her hand sharply. It was a strange expression she had but Violet didn't think it was anger.
"You can sleep with Ginny," she said in a gentle voice. She did not touch Violet again but guided her up the rickety steps until they reached a door marked 'Ginevra's Room'.
Mrs Weasley tapped on the door and then opened it. Ginny was sitting pale-faced on her bed and looked up in alarm. When she saw who it was, she relaxed.
"Ginny, this is Violet," She said, "She needs a bit of rest, so she can take the spare bed in here."
Ginny nodded. Mrs Weasley closed the door quietly behind her.
There was an awkward silence. Violet was rooted to the spot. She tried to look anywhere but Ginny, instead focusing on the posters around the room. There were rockstars mid-concert, actually strumming their instruments, and people on brooms throwing a red ball to one another. There was a large picture of a good-looking man with brilliant white teeth and blonde hair, brandishing a wand as if it were a sword. She wanted to ask who he was, but she didn't dare talk, in case Ginny thought she was an idiot for not knowing. She played with her hands instead and fought the urge to bite at her lip. She looked down at her feet.
"Did you enjoy the trip?" Ginny asked from the bed.
Violet looked up to see Ginny was watching her with brown and interested eyes.
"Sorry?" Violet asked.
"Did you enjoy the ride in the car?"
Violet hesitated. She wasn't sure what to answer. Should she be honest and say it had been a bit rough? What if Ginny liked the car and she was offended? Should she just lie? But what if Ginny knew she was lying?
"Sort of," She finally settled on.
"It's a bit weird, isn't it?" Ginny had gotten up and was moving around the room, gathering pillows and blankets, and setting up a bed on the floor, "I took it out with Fred and George one night when it was really windy. They were turning this way and that to try and make me ill and I ended up being sick all over George's jumper!"
Violet laughed at the thought, "I thought it was going to roll over at one point."
"I know!" Ginny pulled a face, "Did they put full lock on?"
"No?"
"You are lucky," Ginny laughed, "The whole car flips when they do it! I don't think I've screamed so much in my life! Then the next morning I had to tell mum that I was getting a cold to explain why I was so hoarse!"
They both giggled.
"The views were amazing though," Violet added, "I loved watching all the towns going by. It was like being in a helicopter!"
Ginny frowned, "What's a helicopter?"
Violet flushed red, "Nevermind."
"Well, anyway," Ginny spread her arms, "Welcome to the Burrow. I know it's not much, but it's home."
"It's really nice," Violet was watching the poster of the rock band, whose guitarist had just thrown down his guitar and stormed out of frame, "Different to what I'm used to."
"I take it the muggle's house wasn't like this then?"
"No, it was a little less…lopsided."
Ginny grinned, "I don't think it's going to fall down any time soon."
Then from downstairs there came more shouting, even a few floors up Mrs Weasley's voice was unmistakeable.
"Dad must be home," Ginny hadn't so much as batted an eyelid but shook her head and clucked in sympathy, "Oh dear."
"Will he be okay? Your brothers were saying your mum didn't know he'd made it fly?"
"Oh yes, dad loves tinkering with muggle stuff like that. His last project was a toaster that followed you around and just popped your toast in your lap, only it took funny moods and wouldn't actually pop it was burnt. The smell was terrible," Ginny pulled a face, "At least the car actually flies. It got you and Harry here."
"It did, thankfully," Violet nodded in agreement. She had settled herself down on the bed and found it to be quite comfortable. Suddenly she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Don't worry," Ginny gave her a smile, "We can talk when you're more awake."
And without a moment's further thought, Violet was fast asleep.