Hazel Potter woke to weak morning sunlight peeking through the curtains and a chorus of birdsong. She stretched as she sat up and pushed messy red hair out of her green eyes. She took a deep breath to steady her churning stomach.
"Psst," She hissed across the room to the second bed. Uncle Vernon could have slept through an earthquake, but just a sneeze from their bedroom would have him up as if his underwear was on fire.
The lump under the covers did not react.
"Pssst!" She tried again impatiently.
Nothing.
Hazel sighed. Typical. Uncle Vernon wasn't the only one who could sleep through an earthquake. She rummaged under her bed until she found one of her slippers. She took careful aim and tossed it across the room. It bounced right off the head she could just see poking out from under the duvet.
Her brother shot up instantly, black hair even more of a mess than usual. He looked around, eyes still half-closed, "What? What?"
"Oh, good morning to you too," She grinned, "Happy birthday, bedhead!"
Harry rummaged clumsily around on his bedside table for his glasses.
"What time is it?" He mumbled once he could actually see.
"Time for you to get up!"
Harry dropped back onto his pillow and rubbed his eyes with his hands, but he was grinning.
"Don't you ever sleep in like a normal person?"
"How did you expect me to sleep in on such a big day like this?" She grinned cheekily, "It's not every day your big brother turns twelve!"
"If it meant getting up at the crack of dawn every day, then thank god."
"Oh very funny. I suppose you don't want your present then?"
"You got me a present?" Harry raised his eyebrows, "How?"
"I stole it."
He furrowed his eyebrows in a way he only did whenever she was in trouble, "Not funny, Hazel."
"Alright, you know old Mrs Savage in the next street over?"
"The one with the ancient car and massive dog?"
"That's her! I've been scrapping the rust off that car and been dragged through the park for the past few weeks. She didn't give me much but it was enough to get this."
She reached under the bed and pulled out a small package carefully wrapped in greaseproof paper.
Harry took it and unwrapped the paper. Inside was a small fine figure, a wizard wearing 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.
Hazel watched him anxiously, "I hope you like it."
Harry didn't reply. He placed the figure carefully down on the bedside table, strode across the room and hugged her tightly.
"It's brilliant."
She sighed in relief. She had been so worried about it.
"So," She smiled as they separated, "When's the giant kicking the door down this year? Or is he waiting until Uncle Vernon's awake?"
Harry's smile dropped at once, "I don't think he's coming this year."
Hazel's stomach lurched guiltily, "Are there still no letters?"
"No."
"Maybe they can't find the house?"
"The owls had no trouble last year."
Hazel couldn't think of anything to say. When Harry had come back from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was the happiest she had ever seen him. Even when he told her about all the dangerous things that had happened, he couldn't wait to go back. As the weeks had dragged on with no contact from his friends though, he had become more and more sullen. There was nothing she could do to cheer him up, try as she might.
"At least you only have another month before you go back," she said though her heart sank.
Harry gave her a long look, "You'll be coming as well."
Hazel shrugged. She had turned eleven a few weeks ago but there had been no letters for her. It was probably for the best, because she wasn't sure Uncle Vernon's sanity could take another summer like last year, when the house had been bombarded with letters for weeks. Still, one letter through the post would have been nice, even if her uncle had torn it up. Maybe they only sent loads of letters for important people, like Harry. Maybe she just wasn't going.
The silence 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!" Hazel pushed Harry off her bed. He needed no further encouragement as heavy footsteps thumped along the landing carpet.
Harry had only just made it to his bed when the door was thrown open. Uncle Vernon was short, wide, and, currently, very purple. He was blinking sleep from small and sharp eyes, his moustache bristling and his temple throbbing.
Hazel's stomach flipped in fear, but Uncle Vernon ignored her. He had eyes only for Harry.
"You!" he roared at Harry who gave a good impression of jumping awake, "Shut that ruddy owl up!"
Hedwig took offence to this and screeched even louder.
"She'll be quiet if you let her out," Harry said.
"Into the street?" Uncle Vernon barked mockingly, "Absolutely not! Shut her up and then go start breakfast! Now!"
He slammed the door so fiercely that the whole room shook. Harry looked over to Hazel and pulled a face.
Hazel forced a smile, but her hands were still shaking, "I think he meant 'happy birthday'."
"Oh yeah, obviously. Still, it 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."
Harry put on his dressing gown and hurried down the stairs.
Hazel 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 attention.
"I bet you hate being stuck here," She said to the owl who hooted in return, "At least you'll be off again soon, right? Back to Hogwarts. Then you can fly as much as you want, whenever you want. You'll not be trapped here, being treated like a criminal."
She had no idea how, but Hedwig seemed to understand her because the owl gave her a sympathetic nip on the finger.
"It's only for another few weeks," Hazel said, "You can cope for that long right? For Harry's sake?"
Hedwig hooted softly.
"I knew you'd understand," Hazel could smell the bacon wafting up from the kitchen and the voices of her family from downstairs, "I'll bring you up a piece of bacon. I promise."
Uncle Vernon was still complaining loudly about Hedwig in the kitchen. Hazel wasn't sure why he was so angry about the owl because Uncle Vernon was never happier than when he had something to complain about. He hadn't had this much fun since the council had broken the traffic lights at the end of the road last winter.
"-Third time this week! If you don't learn to control that owl, it'll have to go before the neighbours start complaining!"
"She's bored!" Harry had explained this a thousand times since he'd come home but he may as well have been talking to the fridge, "If you would just let her out."
"Do I look like a fool…"
Hazel let the words wash over her as she took her seat. She had to squeeze past her cousin Dudley to get there as he worked his way through the mountain piled onto his plate like he'd not eaten in months. The sight of him chewing loudly with his mouth open put her right off her toast.
"Pass the bacon!" Dudley shouted in her ear and made her jump.
She picked up the plate and handed it to him.
"Can you save me a piece…" She stopped as Dudley tipped the whole lot on top of his sausages, "Thanks."
He gave her an evil, piggy grin and resumed eating.
"There's more where that came from, Diddy-Kins," Aunt Petunia cooed from the kitchen sink. She fixed Hazel with a look as if daring her to ask. Hazel didn't fall for the trap.
"Pass the eggs!" Dudley demanded of Harry and spraying her and her toast in bacon. Lovely, just when she'd thought she couldn't feel any more ill.
"You forgot the magic word," Harry said.
It was the single stupidest thing he could have said, other than 'abra kadabra'. Aunt Petunia clapped her hands to her mouth. Dudley collapsed off his chair with a squeal. 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 with that vein pulsing in his temple again, "About using the 'M' word in this house!"
Hazel's felt a cold run down her spin as her uncle bellowed in her ear and sprayed her toast with spit.
"How dare you threaten Dudley!"
"Um, I don't think he was threatening anyone," Hazel tried to say in a quiet voice, but Uncle Vernon rounded on her at once.
"You stay out of this!" He roared, standing over her like an enraged bear. Hazel felt herself shrink, as if she was melting into the floor. She dropped her eyes. If she didn't look then maybe he would leave her alone.
"Don't shout at her!" Harry said angrily, "She didn't do anything!"
"I will not have this insolence!" Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to burst.
"Alright!" Harry said sulkily, "Alright. I'm sorry!"
Uncle Vernon dropped into his seat, breathing as though he'd just finished a marathon. He glared between Harry and Hazel as if daring them to speak again.
Hazel kept her eyes on her toast, her breathing shallow in case it annoyed him.
"Now," Uncle Vernon cleared his throat and interrupted her thoughts, "As we all know, today is a very important day."
Neither Potter looked up at the announcement. There was only one thing he was going to be talking about and it wasn't something as unimportant as his nephew's birthday.
"Today could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career."
Yup, the dinner party. Uncle Vernon had spoken about nothing else for weeks. Some big-time builder was coming around for the evening and Uncle Vernon was hoping to sell him a huge order of drills. There surely wasn't a more boring sentence in the English language.
"Now, 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 what will you be doing, 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 Hazel who briefly froze in alarm.
"I'll be in the lounge with drinks."
"Which are?"
"Brandy for Mr Mason, sherry for Mrs Mason."
Uncle Vernon gave a snort before wheeling around to Harry, "And you?"
"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. Hazel caught Harry's eye from across the table. If it hadn't been for Uncle Vernon, she might have actually laughed.
"Very good Dudley!" Uncle Vernon nodded approvingly and then glared at Hazel, "You can stay quiet. They don't need to hear you."
Good thing too, what could she possibly follow up Dudley's winner with?
"And you?" Uncle Vernon asked Harry.
"I'll be in my room making no noise and pretending I don't exist."
"You damn 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."
Hazel wasn't paying attention. She was watching Harry, who was poking at his breakfast with his fork. It was so unfair. First his friends hadn't sent him anything for his birthday and now his only other family in the world had forgotten it because of this stupid, pointless, boring dinner party.
She kicked him under the table, and he looked up. She gave him a smile and he returned it weakly.
Uncle Vernon slapped the table and made her flinch in fright, "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. Hazel tried to follow him, but Uncle Vernon quickly blocked her path.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She wanted to say she was going after her brother, but Uncle Vernon towered over her, and his black eyes were narrowed dangerously. One wrong word and he would explode. She had seen it before. She had done it before. She didn't dare anger him.
"I thought so. Go help your aunt! Right now!" He pointed back towards the kitchen.
She didn't dare argue but her stomach churned with guilt. She would catch up with Harry later, before the Masons arrived. When the Dursleys were distracted.
Aunt Petunia had other ideas. The house was spotless as always but that wasn't good enough. It had to be worthy of royalty. Every single surface needed wiped and polished then wiped and polished again. It took hours and the house was boiling hot even with the windows open until the trinkets in the cabinet were swimming in her vision. Was that normal? Or was it the polish fumes.
Harry had it worse, he always did. He had teased Dudley by pretending to use magic on him. Why he would do something so brain-dead, she had no idea. Aunt Petunia had set him to work in the blazing heat, doing all the back-breaking jobs no one else wanted. She kept catching glimpses of him through the windows as she worked.
Hazel had moved to the upstairs bathroom and given it such a thorough cleaning that it was more like a laboratory than bathroom. She double-checked Aunt Petunia was busy in the kitchen and crept over to the open window with sponge in hand. Harry was busy washing the car with his face shining with sweat. She took careful aim and threw.
The sponge landed on the roof with a splash and Harry yelped in surprise. He turned as if expecting to be attacked.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing," He went back to washing the car.
"Well, you've missed a spot," She said, "I can see it from here."
He threw his sponge violently onto the bonnet and she bit her lip.
"Harry, are you okay?"
"Oh yes. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my birthday."
Hazel flinched, "Sorry."
He shook his head, "No, I'm sorry. You're the only one who remembered. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"I think I'm done in here, unless Aunt Petunia wants the house stripped back to the walls. I'll come down and help!"
"You don't have to."
"Are you joking? It's always been my dream to wash the car."
Hazel was intercepted in the hallway by Aunt Petunia wearing a flowery pinny, a turkey baster of gravy in one hand and a feather duster.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To help Harry?"
"Certainly not!" She snapped, "You have too much to do in here."
"But everything's done!"
"You call that living room clean? Did you even touch the cabinet?"
Hazel stared at her. The cabinet was so polished it was it was gleaming like a giant mahogany mirror.
"I think I might have managed it."
"Go back and do it again."
"But Aunt Petunia-"
"Don't talk back!" She snapped.
Hazel's anger was swelling. She was tired, her arms and shoulders ached, she was covered sweat and stank of cleaner. Her brother who she hadn't seen for ten whole months was outside on his own and she wasn't allowed to even see him.
"Do you even know what day it is?" She said quickly enough for Aunt Petunia not to interrupt.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that, wait until I tell your Uncle-"
"It's his birthday!" Hazel shouted. The silence hung between them. Aunt Petunia gave her a long and searching look. Hazel waited. What had she done? If Aunt Petunia told Uncle Vernon, she wasn't going to be fed for at least a week.
"Go clean the living room," Aunt Petunia said breathlessly, "before I tell your uncle."
As Aunt Petunia walked away, Hazel noted the gravy in the turkey baster had gone green. Did she do that? She hadn't meant to, but she had just been so…angry. She had done magic before when she was younger but not since Harry had gone to Hogwarts. Was that why they didn't want her?
She went back to rubbing the cabinet, which made no different whatsoever when she heard someone enter. For the briefest moment, she hoped it might be Harry but no, it was Dudley with a massive sausage roll. He dropped onto the couch and turned on the TV, munching loudly on his snack.
She watched him shower her immaculate crouch in crumbs with a sinking heart.
"You're blocking the TV," he sneered, spraying sausage roll everywhere, "Move."
"I'm busy cleaning this."
"I'll tell dad if you don't."
She moved with a sigh, "Don't they have plates at Smeltings?"
"Don't need one. Waste of time."
"Definitely like Smeltings then."
"Duddy-kins!" Aunt Petunia came to the door before Dudley could work out what she'd said, "Time to get ready! You!" She snapped at Hazel, "Look at the state of the settee! Clean it at once!"
It took ages to get rid of every crumb Dudley had dropped. Most people wouldn't have bothered but Aunt Petunia could spot a speck of dust from half a mile away. Her stomach ached at the smell of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.
"It's nearly seven! Go, get changed!" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen.
She tramped up to the bathroom, wondering how green gravy would taste, and stopped in horror at the door. It was like a tornado had passed through. There was water everywhere, towels on the floor and the sink full of soap. It was worse than when she'd started.
Thanks Dudley...
Hazel cleaned it all with a wary sigh. Why did her magic always do something pointless like transforming gravy? Why couldn't it do something helpful like folding a towel?
Finally, everything was back to normal. Not quite up to the standards of the royals but it would have to do if she wanted cleaned in time for the Mason's arrival. Aunt Petunia had left her an evening dress and it was possibly the most horrible thing she had ever seen. It was too long for her by a foot and a revolting brown colour, it was covered in lace and frills. Had she stolen it from a museum?
Hazel checked herself in the mirror. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.
It was worse. She looked so pale and tired and it clashed so horribly with her hair that it was painful. It wasn't even comfortable, it kept pinching at her stomach and her back, like it was tormenting her. Who had this dress been made for? Were they even human?
Still wondering how someone could look so horrible, she ran into Harry in the landing.
His face and hands were covered in dirt and his black hair was slick with sweat. He kept having to push his glasses up his nose.
"Wow," he said as he looked her up and down.
"I know," she said, feeling more stupid by the second, "Is it too late to fake an illness?"
"You don't want to do that. Uncle Vernon will be furious."
"I'll take my chances."
"At least the food will be nice," He looked so sad, so defeated that Hazel reacted without thinking. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"I'm so sorry," Tears prickled at her eyes, "You deserve so much better."
"At least I've got you," They pulled apart and Harry stared down in horror, "Oh no, your dress."
She looked down and her heart stopped. There was a big black smear of dirt across the front of her dress, stark against the brown velvet.
"Oh no," A hand came to her mouth as panic filled her mind, "Harry, what am I going to do? They're going to kill me."
"It's okay," Harry said and squeezed her hand, "There might be something in the kitchen you can use to clean it. If that doesn't work, tell them I did it. They'll believe that."
"I can't do that! You'll be in so much trouble!"
"Nothing I can't handle. Now go, before the Masons get here."
She hurried for the stairs. Hopefully Uncle Vernon was still in the living room, hopefully he wasn't waiting by the door yet.
She reached the stairs. Uncle Vernon looked up at her.
Hazel froze. She didn't know what to do, what to say. Her hands started to shake.
He gave her a long look.
"Yes, very good! Come on," He snapped his fingers impatiently, "Go get the drinks ready!"
She didn't move. Was this a joke? She wasn't sure she'd heard Uncle Vernon make a joke in her entire life.
"What about my dress?"
"What's wrong with it?"
She looked down. The stain was gone. She had never been so happy to see disgusting brown velvet in her life!
"They're here!" Uncle Vernon shouted in alarm, "You! Go now! Hurry!"
Hazel ran for the kitchen. The relief was flooding through her. She still didn't believe it!
Maybe her magic liked her after all.
But then why had Hogwarts not sent her a letter?
