I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

What if the Dursleys' had two children and one receives their letter?

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Tom, proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron, looked up in surprise. The door leading to Muggle London opened and it was incredibly late at night. Most people that arrived at the Cauldron this late came via the Floo or at the apparition point. Muggles could not see the Cauldron so the person must be someone familiar with Muggle London.

His eyebrows rose higher as he recognized the person walking in, though he did not recognize the other person. "Mister Potter! Good to see you lad." His eyebrows fell with concern. "It's a bit late, is everything okay?"

Harry Potter smiled weakly. "Not really Mister Tom, sorry to bother you so late. I...didn't know where else to go."

"It's no bother lad. We're an inn after all, used to people coming and going at odd hours." He looked down at the young girl that clutched Harry's hand. "I don't think we've met little Miss."

She took one look at him and tried to hide behind Harry.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, "Violet's a bit shy. We've had...a day. Do you have a room I could rent until we go back to school?"

Tom felt his heart ache. As a bartender, he could recognize pain and anguish easily. He saw it in a lot of his patrons that came to drink their troubles away. Sometimes, their troubles were light and inconsequential. Other times, their troubles were very heavy and rattling.

Since the day he saw Harry, Tom knew the pain that Harry carried was some of the heaviest he had ever seen. It was a pain that defined a person, that saturated their entire being. It was the kind of pain you read about and never wished to see on your worst enemy. He had never seen anyone else carry a pain similar.

Until now. The girl's pain was wild and fresh and raw. While it did not approach the magnitude of Harry's pain, it was almost as intense.

"Of course lad. Let's get you and little Miss settled," Tom said as kindly as he could. "I don't have any rooms with two beds at the moment, but I can conjure you a small one if you don't mind sharing a room."

"That'd be great, thanks," Harry said relieved.

Moments later Harry and Violet were in a large room at the very back of the Cauldron, one that Tom promised would be quiet and private. When Tom had closed the door behind him Violet had burst into hysterical sobs, clinging onto Harry as tight as she could.

Harry had picked her up and sat on the bed, holding his younger cousin as she sobbed. He did not try to get her to stop, he did not try to tell her to contain her grief. He let her wail into his chest, holding her and stroking her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly when her crying calmed down slightly. "I never imagined this would ever happen to you."

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes drowned with sorrow. "You d-didn't?"

He smiled wanly. "No, I didn't. Your parents actually loved you." He winced as his poor choice of words. "I'm sure they still love you."

"No, I don't think so," she said. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "They've never looked at me like that before, like they...look at you." She gulped. "I should be the one saying sorry! How could I let them treat you like that!"

Harry snorted. "You're a literal child. You can't stop them from doing anything."

"They would have listened to me," she insisted. "I should have said something." She cried harder. "It's all my fault."

He looked right at her, incredulous. "How in the world is the way your family treating me like that your fault?"

"I never stopped them. I...didn't mind that they wanted nothing to do with you because I wanted you to myself." Her confession made her sob harder. "You were always the nicest and kindest to me. I was happy that I was your favorite. I made them hate you because I was selfish!"

He sighed and hugged her. "No, magic doesn't work like that. At least accidental magic. You have to cast a curse or something to turn people like that and I can't do that kind of magic yet, so you definitely can't."

Harry's eyes became unfocused as he looked into his memories. "You obviously don't remember but they've always been like that. Before you were born and when you were a baby. It's not your fault at all. Don't accept responsibility for what they did."

She hated it when he looked that way. He always looked lost and alone whenever he looked back like that. It made her re-examine her own memories and each time she did, she understood more of what happened, about how Harry was treated by her parents and brother, about why they told her to treat him a certain way.

Every time, she got sicker and sicker.

"Will, will Aunt Marge be okay?" she asked timidly.

"I don't know, but I think so," Harry said unconcerned. "I've always said she needed to lighten up."

Violet giggled. "I'm sorry I blew her up. I got so mad at how she was talking to you and what she was saying about your parents. It made me so upset."

He kissed her forehead. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

They lapsed into silence.

"So I'm a witch?" Violet asked.

"I think so."

"I thought I would be a lot happier. I always wanted to be special like you. I just..." she started to cry again, "...I just thought Mummy and Daddy would be nicer to me about it. I never would have thought they'd blame you. But...they called me a freak..."

Harry hugged her tighter. "You're not."

"Neither are you," she said, burying her face into his chest.

More silence.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"Well, good thing you got someone that kind of knows how to shop and how to prepare."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You're going to help me?"

He snorted. "Of course, silly. Why wouldn't I?"

She hesitated.

"Violet, you've never treated me badly despite being told to. I actually like you. I won't abandon you because of your family."

Her tears tasted different now. Before they were bitter and cold, tainted with shock and pain. Her tears now were warmer, from a source of relief. "You're my family," she insisted.

Harry smile was genuine and warm. "And you're mine. We'll get through this. It won't be easy, but we will."

She believed him. She always did. She always will.