RH and GB

by Skcymooree's Azure

HP multidimentional beings FHP NBWL

9. Chapter 9

The first letter appeared on a Monday.

"Hit her with your Smelting stick, Dudley." Uncle Vernon encouraged his son. Harriet had only been given her food of the morning, a piece of charred up toast that unfortunately was left in the toaster for too long. Somebody kept on turning the toaster to high once or twice a week, and none of the Dursley's liked the taste of coal. Harriet had only been able to sink her teeth into the tough substance and dodged the swipe of the knobby stick that Dudley was wielding. And she went to go get the mail, as that was the reason why her uncle was teaching his son to hit little girls.

She picked up the stack of letters, and at that moment she felt the toast begin to slip between her teeth. Rather than peruse through said mail, Harriet simply caught her morsel and munched on the blackened crunchy bread before returning to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had finally stopped fixing her hair and was now sitting at the table, and Harriet laid the stack of letters next to Uncle Vernon.

"Oh Pet, look. Another letter from Marge. She's spending the summer in Spain." Uncle Vernon plucked off a postcard from the top of the pile. "She says the food is ghastly. And they don't know how to make a good cup of tea."

"Spaniards are terrible cooks," Aunt Petunia sniffed, her mouth in a constant puckered look. "I wouldn't be surprised if they knew anything about tea. I hope Marge won't get poisoned by their lack of hygiene."

'You don't even know the difference between bacon and steak is.' Harriet quietly, wise to keep such comments to her herself. 'And Spaniards traded tea with other countries ages ago.'

"What's this?" Dudley reached over and snatched a letter from the pile. Harriet only saw it with a glance, already working on the dishes. It was good to keep busy in front of her relatives, who wouldn't hesitate to keep her working until the next day if they saw her standing around. And so, as she stared out the window into the backyard and a bush of roses, Harriet only managed to hear the commotion behind her rather than see it.

There was an awful noise. It sounded like a mixture between a gasp and a gargle. And then she heard Aunt Petunia shriek, "Vernon! " There was a crash as a glass was knocked over, and Harriet turned around to see Uncle Vernon snatch a white envelope from Dudley's hands.

"But Da! That's mine!" Dudley stood up, his chair sliding back making it screech against the tile floor. "I saw it and it's mine!" His voice pitched higher and louder until Dudley's face matched Vernon's red one.

Aunt Petunia's face went ashen white, and she looked ready to fall over. "Vernon. Is- is that our boy's name on it? Is he-" her voice trembled.

Uncle Vernon turned the paper around (far from Dudley's reach), and shook his head. "No, Pet." And Harriet saw it. The broken seal on the back. Although it was impossible to see what the insignia was on the wax there was only one reason as for a letter to even have a seal in the first place. Quickly mentally tallying up the months, Harriet realized that yes, this was it. July. Her 11th birthday was soon coming up, and this was the year that she'd start school.

After dreaming about it for so long, Harriet was shocked to find it had snuck up on her. Hogwarts was a dream, a castle far away where she'd be accepted for who she really was. And somehow she had let the distant dream to remain remote, not knowing that it was suddenly upon her.

Harriet's hand twitched for the letter, but none of her relatives noticed as Dudley decided to throw a tantrum.

"Give me my letter! " Dudley screamed so high pitched that Harriet was sure that he was actually a girl. He stomped his feet, crushing the glass that had fallen earlier, and pounded his hands on the table. Then he grasped the Smelting stick and began to bang it on the table, destroying the rest of the breakfast that had been sitting there innocently. Aunt Petunia sat in the chair, her face devoid of all color and looked sickly.

"It's not yours boy!" Uncle Vernon roared back, louder than Dudley's screams. His voice boomed and Harriet flinched back. She watched with wide eyes, her heart pounding. Vernon had never yelled at Dudley before. Harriet, on the other hand, was intimate with that sound. It only happened when she had fucked up. Badly.

Dudley began to yell back, but Vernon had already beaten him to the punch. His big meaty hands grasped the letter and tore it in two. The ghastly howl that came from Dudley was overpowering, filling the kitchen and dining room until it felt like he shook the spiders from their nests in the attic. Vernon didn't stop there, continuing to rip and shred the many documents and pages that the letter contained until only confetti remained. That is when Dudley took action, banging his Smelting stick on his father before it was yanked from his hands.

"Go to your room!" Uncle Vernon almost violently shoved Dudley towards the stairs. Dudley went with a sob, turning his back and fleeing. Then Vernon turned on Harriet, his attention focusing on her like a sniper rifle. Harriet flinched once again when she saw his scorched look on her. "You." He snarled and with a savage motion, he pointed towards the cupboard under the stairs. "Get in there now. "

Harriet scuttled as fast as she could towards her cupboard. She didn't dare get close to Uncle Vernon, nor did she look back as she shut the door behind her. A familiar setting around her, Harriet turned and looked at the door. Within seconds, she heard the locks clicking in place and Uncle Vernon's heavy steps walking away from her cupboard.

She returned to the door, softly tilting her head till her ear was against the wood. She could distantly hear Aunt Petunia sobbing, and Uncle Vernon talking in a hushed voice. Above her, she could hear Dudley stomping around and that drowned out the conversation that Harriet longed to hear.

She stayed in her cupboard for the rest of the day, her mind racing. Because finally, after all that time, Hogwarts was almost here. It was so close she could almost taste it. The freedom from her relatives. More magic in her life. Potions to create. It felt like a dream. But it was here. It was finally here.

On Tuesday, Harriet didn't get the mail. She simply made breakfast, although the tension in the room was so thick that she couldn't almost breathe. Dudley was pouting, not saying a word while Aunt Petunia looked like she was about to cry. It was only Vernon who seemed to be in a positive mood. In fact, he acted just fine, as if the incident didn't happen the day before. The Smelting stick was mysteriously missing, and for that Harriet was glad. As Dudley was still in a foul mood and she was sure that he wouldn't have hesitated to take a few swings at on her.

"The weather forecast says that we'll have some sunshine today." Uncle Vernon tapped on the newspaper. "It's bloody well time. It's been raining non-stop for too long these days."

"Yes dear." Aunt Petunia looked downright miserable. Harriet had never seen her aunt look so glum before. It was a little disconcerting. But satisfying at the same time.

Harriet was scooping out a pan of fried eggs onto Dudley's plate when the familiar sound of the letter slot clicking shut and the mail hitting the welcome mat. Aunt Petunia's face lost all color once again, and Uncle Vernon perked up.

"Ah, the mail. Don't worry, I'll go get it." He left the table and walked the short distance towards the front door.

Harriet watched warily, wondering what he was doing. She wasn't worried about her admission to Hogwarts, she knew the basics of it from her mum's journal. All she had to do was head over to Diagon Alley when Aunt Petunia was out and send an owl off to Hogwarts for her acceptance. She didn't need the letter so much, although she'd have to ask somebody for their book list. Or just walk into a few shops and ask for their first-year things. It wouldn't be that big of a problem if she didn't get her hands on a letter.

Uncle Vernon soon came back as Harriet served a platter of bacon on the table. He was still in his jovial mood and waved a stack of letters and magazines in the air. "No letter today!" He cheerfully exclaimed. Aunt Petunia let loose a sigh and she didn't seem as tense as before.

Then it occurred to Harriet. Magic has been a part of her life for a long time. Waiting up until the moon was full to mumble some words over some plants. Or hurriedly making a potion in a pot before Aunt Petunia came home from the salon. Perusing over so many books in the middle of the night, her fingertips trailing over the words in the yellowed light. She had kept the secret of her knowledge of magic to herself in fear of her relatives that it didn't occur to her that they still thought that she didn't know. The fact that she did know exactly what her aunt and uncle were doing shed a different light on their odd behavior. Were they… scared of magic? Of her knowing?

The idea of it puzzled her.

"I think I'll be glad for a little bit of sunshine today." Aunt Petunia said with a hint of relief. Harriet turned away from the table to fetch the last piece of the breakfast- a pitcher of orange juice- when she heard it.

The mail slot clicking closed once again, and something falling on the welcome mat. Everybody heard it. Harriet turned to see that the Dursleys were nearly all frozen. Aunt Petunia was starting to breathe quick short breaths, and then Dudley suddenly lunged out of his seat towards the door. Uncle Vernon grasped him and threw him back, moving faster than what Harriet could have possibly imagined. For such a large man, he was shockingly quick on his feet. Dudley fell back, banging against the table and his plate fell over, creating a large crash. His weight fell on the table cloth on the table, which slid, resulting in the entire tables contents to fall on the ground in a cacophony of sounds. For the second time in a row, breakfast was ruined.

"No," Aunt Petunia whispered weakly. "No. No. No."

Uncle Vernon came back, beet red in the face. An envelope with a wax seal on the back crumbled up in his hand. He didn't stop as he came into the room, continuing into the kitchen and clicked on a burner. Harriet watched silently as he set it aflame, and gazed at it as the letter began to twist and curl into ash.

"There." Uncle Vernon said with grit. "We will just burn the blasted letters." He waited until the flame consumed the letter before throwing it into the sink. Aunt Petunia let out a terrible sob, and Dudley stood there and pouted.

Harriet let her eyes wander around the Dursley home. Rarely had she ever seen such chaos in this space. The last time Harriet had even come close to creating such a moment was when she had weakened a chair at the table and Aunt Marge sat on it. Dudley started to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum, Aunt Petunia still sat in her chair, her head in her hands, and Uncle Vernon was telling Dudley no for the first time that Harriet could remember. This was the second day that the letter appeared. Would… it come again? Harriet didn't dare smile, but oh how she wanted to when the idea came to her. Having a letter arrive once was nothing. But twice in a row? It could be a coincidence. But the third time. The third time should be when Harriet would know that they would arrive frequently.

Her relatives don't know that she knows about magic. That thought echoed in her head over and over again. They didn't know that she knew. Harriet knew that she would go to Hogwarts. No matter how much her aunt and uncle tried to prevent it, Harriet was going. No matter what. It had been the one dream of escape that she always had. Her mum had gone there. Her mum had met her dad there. Hogwarts was happening, no matter what. And her relative's attempts by trying to keep it from her was never going to work.

Then a terrible, no good, awful, idea hit Harriet. She turned towards the sink, letting her tangled hair fall into her face. And she allowed herself to give herself a smile. It wasn't a nice one. It was bitter and full of spite. It was malicious. None of her extended family saw it, they were all distracted by the chaos around them. And if they had, they would have been nervous to know what exactly what she was thinking.

Seeing by how the letters were being sent over and over again, the wizarding world was coming to get her now. And the mail was sending them into such a tizzy, well. Maybe… just maybe Harriet should give it a hand. After all, it would be a shame if her aunt and uncle didn't know about the exciting chance of a magic school for her.

And Harriet knew exactly what to do.

Breakfast was a morbid affair to the Dursleys on Wednesday. Harriet didn't care, she was just the one who cooked the bacon. Dudley was the only one who ate without abandon, stuffing his face like usual. In fact, he was the first one to pipe up that morning. Vernon and Petunia seemed like ghosts, pale looking and sleep deprived. They picked at their plates, and Harriet absent mindedly hoped that she could eat it once they threw it away.

"So wa'ss in the 'etter anyway?" Dudley spoke through a mouthful of food, spitting pieces of it across the table.

"Nothing." Uncle Vernon was quick to say. "And you will never find out. Not while you're living under our roof."

"But Da-"

"Dudley." Vernon's voice held a thinly veiled threat. "Don't ask any questions. Your mother and I are not in the mood."

Dudley's face puckered up in a pout but didn't say another word. Harriet simply scrubbed at the frying pan in the kitchen while the rest of the house suffered in silence. She kept herself busy, eavesdropping for the moment that they all had been waiting for. And she didn't have to wait very long. The mail came, dropping onto the mat with it's familiar thud. Uncle Vernon went to go get it, and when he came back he quickly did the same thing that he did yesterday. Burning the letters. He then dusted his hands from his dirty deed and the day proceeded like normal.

Yeah. Harriet was satisfied with knowing that not only had she correctly predicted that another letter would arrive, but an additional one came with it.

She started to plan immediately. The excitement bubbling up within her.

Thursday came with a plot twist that Harriet didn't see coming. That morning, Uncle Vernon waited for the mailman to come. Mr. Green was a nice mailman if a bit weird. Harriet never really thought much of him, simply because he didn't stay around Privet Drive that much. He came, did his job, and left. Which was his duty required of him to do. And so Harriet didn't really have time to stand around and watch how things would pan out with Uncle Vernon and Mr. Green, as she still had chores to do. The last few days she had spent in her cupboard, which was pretty nice. But that also meant that the house had fallen into disarray. That and Dudley's tantrums that were so loud out it could wake the dead. Those added to the general clutter of the home.

Harriet was on the kitchen floor scrubbing up bacon grease from the last few previous days when Uncle Vernon came back. Breakfast hadn't been eaten yet, but today was a change of pace. Aunt Petunia herself had cooked. Harriet had never thought that she'd see the day that her aunt took charge of the kitchen. Her aunt never cooked. Never. And yet she stood in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around and making a general mess.

To be honest, it was more like Harriet's kitchen than anything else. She was the one who cooked all the meals, who cleaned and scrubbed every inch of the stove. She knew exactly where all the ingredients and cooking tools were kept. In fact, it was one of the most familiar places in the house to her. And Harriet let her bedraggled hair fall into her face to mask her discontent of seeing Petunia doing the cooking. Petunia was using too much flour in the pie that she was trying to make. And it was getting everywhere. Harriet knew that she'd be the one to clean it in the end, and she hoped that her scrubbing masked the small sighs of discontent falling from her lips.

Uncle Vernon stepped into the kitchen and swept Petunia up into a kiss. Harriet averted her eyes, as it was gross to see it. Not to mention it was unseemly to look straight into hell. At least, it was Harriet's version of hell.

"My Pet, we won't get another letter again." Uncle Vernon said. "The post will never allow another letter to appear. They put a note down in our file."

Petunia let out a sigh and leaned into the walrus. "That is such a relief."

Harriet felt physically sick. The fondness that they had for each other made her gag. It was torturous for her to listen to them… cuddle. And with that Harriet figured that her job was mostly finished anyway, and quickly picked up her cleaning supplies. Just hearing her aunt and uncle being fond with each other made her want to leave the room, go outside, and throw herself in front of a bus. She wasn't stopped as Harriet left the room. She picked up her pail of dirty soapy water and made her way to the front door to go throw it onto the bushes outside. Honestly, she was looking forward to having a breath or two of fresh air. Maybe it might get rid of the vomit taste that was creeping up her throat the more she heard from her aunt and uncle.

She opened the door and nearly stepped on them before she noticed. A few drops spilled from the bucket as she suddenly changed trajectory, stepping aside instead of in front. Three letters sat peacefully on the ground, each one stamped with a red seal of wax. Harriet paused, looking down at the three letters.

'It's like the Dursley's aren't even trying.' Harriet thought a little disappointed. Honestly, she thought she'd get a letter, but it would at least be a little difficult to get it. After all the fuss that they made, Harriet still found the letter with little to no effort. 'What a shame .' Harriet thought disappointedly. 'I'd at least thought there would be a challenge.'

She peered inside. Maybe she should just leave- when she heard her aunt's breathless giggle and thought better of it. Mercy wasn't in her vocabulary. If she had to suffer through her aunt and uncle being affectionate, they ought to suffer too. Harriet glanced down at the carpet floors and placed the bucket smack dab in the middle of the hallway. She then crept back to the doorway and picked up two letters and stuffed them into her knickers. Her underwear was the only thing that her aunt bought for her new since Dudley's won't even stay up on her hips. The other letters would be useful later. Harriet picked up the last piece of mail on their porch and took the time to study it. The Hogwarts emblem was stamped into the wax seal. And on the front, penned in green ink was her name. Harriet Potter. Under the Staircase. Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey.

Harriet paused, then glanced back inside. She might get hit by doing this. Uncle Vernon might get mad again. Harriet didn't know how her relatives might react seeing her with a letter from a magical school. One that they were trying to avoid letting her see. Uncle Vernon might beat her up again. Maybe use his belt to whip her. She might not be able to move for weeks. But honestly… it was worth it. Pain happened on a regular basis. If she could get a few snickers out of this, then it was worth the effort and the resulting fallout.

Harriet took in a deep breath to calm her nerves. Then breathed in until her lungs hurt.

Harriet cleared her throat and spoke loudly into the house. "Wow, it's for me?" She paused, ripping at the paper for it to make a noise. "It even says under the staircase." She called loudly, exaggerating her excitement.

The deep thump-thump-thump of Uncle Vernon's feet hitting the ground was the only thing that warned Harriet. It was loud. It even made the floor under her shake. She continued her act. Starting to pick at the envelope and tearing off a corner further.

"Girl! " Uncle Vernon bellowed as he headed straight for her. His face was redder than Harriet had ever seen it before. It was nearing the stage purple. "You will drop that-" and he kicked over the bucket. Spilling the dirty water all over Aunt Petunia's white rug. He didn't hesitate before grabbing Harriet by the collar and shaking her, tearing the envelope out of her hands. Harriet's vision went blurry as her glasses almost slipped off.

"My carpet!" Aunt Petunia from behind wailed.

Uncle Vernon didn't seem to notice. He pulled Harriet close to his face and spat into her face. "You will forget about this." He was mad. Madder than Harriet had ever seen him. She looked startled. For a brief second, she almost regretted it. And then, Harriet couldn't have planned it better. She caught the movement from the corner of her eye, and she saw a bird (an owl, her mind helpfully added) swoop past the open door and the muffled clatter of yet another envelope hitting the ground. That drew Uncle Vernon's attention away from Harriet.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia half shouted half whispered in fear. "Not in front of the neighbors." Her eyes flickered outside, and then to the new letter on the ground. "And please." Her voice cracked. "Don't antagonize her. Not now."

What happened next was almost magical. In fact, Harriet was one hundred percent sure it was. Because it was so unlikely that Harriet was certain magic was at work. Uncle Vernon slowly put her down and released his grip on her shirt. He was still red in the face, but he didn't lay a hand on her. Harriet took a step back, afraid that he was going to change his mind. He had never… Harriet was in shock.

"Go." Uncle Vernon bit his words out, "get the cleaning supplies from the kitchen and clean up this mess, girl." He waved his hand towards the now yellowing carpet. Harriet ducked her eyes and scampered away, turning the corner towards the kitchen and out of the sight of her uncle.

The shock was still there in her system. But with also euphoria. Harriet's mind buzzed. She felt almost dizzyingly joyful. Her ploy worked and she didn't even get hit once. It had been so terrifying that the fear still resided in her bones. But it worked! Harriet let out a breathless giggle. It was the neighbors. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn't do anything if the neighbors could see it. It's funny how she had never thought about that before, but the more she considered it the more she felt it was true.

The bit of the paper stabbing into her bony ribs brought her attention to the letters still hidden in her knickers. 'Why the bloody hell not?' Harriet smiled freely to herself. And then glanced over at the hallway. Aunt Petunia was having a loud conversation with Uncle Vernon, but they didn't seem to be coming into the kitchen any time soon. Harriet softly padded her way over to the window and opened it wide enough that she could fit her arm through. Untucking the letters from under her clothes, she inserted them into the small crevice between the window pane and the wooden frame, making sure that the address was towards the outside. She then softly closed the window, making no sound. She looked proudly at the letters that now gently fluttered in the breeze outside. 'Let's see what the neighbors would think of that,' Harriet thought. She then grabbed the cleaning supplies, making sure that she wasn't getting the bleach-infused carpet cleaner. Harriet was sure that she'd be spending all day trying to get that stain out of the shag carpet, but she was spiteful enough to make sure that it wouldn't.

She gathered her items quickly, they were familiar to her as she was the only one who used them. Harriet then made her way back to the scene of the crime. Her nerves were still tingly from the excitement, but she had calmed down enough that she was certain that her emotions weren't visible on her face.

"-right in front of the open doorway, anybody could have seen you!" Aunt Petunia spluttered. Uncle Vernon looked like he was ready to continue the conversation but when he saw Harriet he stopped. Aunt Petunia honed in on her too, her sharp look making Harriet duck her gaze. "I am going to bake a cake." Aunt Petunia moved towards the kitchen and paused after passing Harriet. "Clean the carpet, freak."

Harriet closed her eyes. Then glared up at the wall through the veil of her hair. ' Enjoy your gift bitch.' She thought to herself as she set down her pile of cleaning product. Uncle Vernon moved on elsewhere, and Harriet was mostly left to her own to scrub. It was worse the second time around. The oils and rancid fats had soaked itself into the carpet, and Harriet could hardly make a dent into it. And yet, it was better than doing nothing. She was a master at absentmindedly cleaning things, while her thoughts were elsewhere. And soon it was easy to fall into a rhythm of cleaning and spraying and soaking and rubbing the brush again through the carpet.

Harriet had only just fallen into that distant mindset again when Aunt Petunia let out a horrid scream. Uncle Vernon thundered down the stairs, brushing past Harriet without a notice. Dudley came out of his room to see what was happening. Harriet paused in her cleaning and let her hair obscure the smile on her face.

"They're everywhere!" Aunt Petunia wailed through unrecognizable sobs. "They just keep coming."

"They'll stop soon darling." Uncle Vernon assured her. "They'll get the hint one day. If we keep on destroying them then-"

"But maybe they won't!" Aunt Petunia said. "They will never stop sending those letters." There was a huge crashing sound that intrigued Harriet enough to finally see the commotion. Dudley was standing the doorway, and she came to hover behind him. Aunt Petunia was in Uncle Vernon's arms. She had thrown the mixing bowl on the ground, cake batter splattered over the floor. The window was open, the letters retrieved from their hidden spots. Harriet didn't see them anymore, so she assumed they were destroyed.

Uncle Vernon looked up from his wife and gave the two kids a glare. "You two. To your rooms. Now. "

Dudley didn't throw a fit, surprisingly. And Harriet was simply glad that she didn't have to clean anymore and went into her cupboard. Harriet sat on her small mattress in the dark and threw her arms in the air in celebration. What a wonderful day so far! And she couldn't wait to see what would happen next. What could she possibly do to cause her aunt to have a mental break down? Harriet positively beamed to herself, so proud of her mischief. She laid down and thought of all the different ways that she could torture her relatives. Let's see… she could hide more letters around the house. Although that would mean that she'd have to get her hands on some more. But figuring how easy it was to get them earlier, it probably wasn't much of a problem. Harriet mused to herself… would her aunt's shampoo hold a letter? Or would that be too obvious?

The door to her cupboard suddenly swung open. Harriet jumped in shock. The bright light leaked into her cave. Causing her eyes to smart from the sudden shift in light.

"Pack up your things." Aunt Petunia said stiffly. "You're moving to Dudley's second bedroom."

Harriet didn't see this plot twist at all.

The next morning caused Harriet to hate the world and everything in it. She glared with all her might at the window. And the sunlight that was making its way into her new room. It was trespassing. And very unwelcome. The room was still a mess. Dudley's second bedroom was clearly not meant to be lived in. There was still copious amounts of broken junk from his childhood pushed to the side. Harriet, in a moment of absolute insanity, actually agreed with Aunt Petunia when she said that everything had to go. Dudley didn't appreciate being told this. And so, a bed was uncovered and the lumpy mattress was aired long enough that Harriet didn't immediately suffocate from the dust rising from it. The trash that littered the ground and walls combined with Harriet's sudden move meant that Harriet didn't have the same necessities that some of the other rooms in the house had.

That meant curtains.

Harriet had never awoken to light before. It had been annoying and dug her face into her pillow in an attempt to avoid waking up. But it wasn't powerful enough to block the sunlight. It was early. Too early for Harriet, who loved to sleep in whenever she could. She had spent hours into the night moving things around until Uncle Vernon yelled at her to go to sleep. Turns out they could actually hear her move around in her room now. Which was weird. She was so used to being left alone in the middle of the night that it frightened her half to death when her uncle showed up at her door.

So used to the darkness that her cupboard provided for her Harriet was unprepared for the sudden shift. There were so many new things that she had to worry about now. How was she supposed to get to her potions now? Or her mum's trunk? Her small supplies of herbs and spices that she had accumulated were all downstairs in her cupboard. There were no nooks and crannies in this room. In fact, Aunt Petunia told her to get rid of everything, much to Dudley's absolute dismay.

"I hate you." She croaked towards the window. Yeah, it'd be nice when it got stuffy. But for now, it claimed a spot in her mortal enemy list. Harriet groaned and dug her face back into her pillow. The light was still too bright for her comfort but it was too late for her to find sleep again. She'd have to tough out the day the hard way.

That Friday morning Harriet cleaned. She wasn't allowed to be near the breakfast table at all. In fact, it was without saying that breakfast was canceled in the Dursley household until further notice. Dudley was put out, as food, in general, was pretty much all his walnut-sized brain could think about. But after having such a disaster week for breakfast, it was a unanimous decision. Instead, the first meal of the day was served near lunch, marking it to be a brunch. It was after the post had been delivered, and subsequently, all letters were destroyed.

Vernon made a big deal not to speak about the mail and Aunt Petunia was acting alongside him. Dudley didn't dare mention anything about the letter again, but Harriet could easily tell that it was on his mind. And so Harriet didn't know how many more letters were delivered on Friday, but she knew that there had been some due to the ashy remains of them in the sink.

She spent the rest of the day in her new bedroom, tossing toys and dozens of broken pieces of junk into garbage bags and putting them in the bin. Harriet went full out in her new room. It was pleasing to her to have it. She liked the space. And although the window as pretty awful in the mornings, she planned to have a few moon seances to improve a plant's magical ability. It was a lot better than sneaking out into the yard to do it. And if she could get some curtains then it would feel a lot homier. Although she'd have to make it seem like it was her relative's idea, otherwise they'd hold it as leverage. Or say no simply because she asked. They were jerks.

Being an expert in cleaning, it didn't take Harriet very long to make her new space her own. Her relatives left her alone. Which was odd but nice in it's own way. But for the entirety of the day, Harriet just cleaned and scrubbed and threw things away. By the end, Harriet found herself in her newly cleaned room. It wasn't nice. It wasn't perfect. Her relatives didn't even give her sheets for her new bed. But she still had her pillow and few ratty blankets so she wasn't too concerned about that. The window was partially open, and Harriet enjoyed the fresh breath of air. It was really nice. But there was still a part of her that wanted her cupboard. Her little cave. Where she knew that nobody could hear her at night. She could stay up in her little safe space for however long she wanted, reading books and daydreaming about her future.

This room felt different. And Harriet wasn't sure if she liked it still. But if her relatives were anything, they were predictable. Harriet was pretty sure that she'd be thrown back into the cupboard after all of this blew over. This was just temporary. But it certainly threw her off her game.

Saturday came once again with the morning light waking Harriet. That, and three stuffy looking owls staring at her from her window sill. Harriet, for a brief moment, while still half asleep, wondered if she was going mad and making things up. However, a moment of clarity hit her and Harriet suddenly had three owls in her room. Which was a little strange? Definitely not Dursley approved. Harriet wasn't sure what the right etiquette was for waking up with owls in her room.

"I could have gotten that letter ages ago." Harriet moaned and shoved her head into the pillow. "This is ridiculous." But her words were muffled, and nobody to hear her but the owls. After getting her letters (which was awkward), there were six this time around, Harriet still didn't want to open them. Not when she could still have a little fun.

Being awake super early was a blessing in this case. Harriet didn't think so, as she felt sleep deprived. But it worked for her. Carrying the early morning prizes she lightly waltzed from room to room to figure out where to put them. The house was quiet and still, it was almost odd for Harriet to be out while the light was out. She was used to it when it was dark but seeing things in the sunlight made it feel weird. The closest way to describe it was like she was walking in a different dimension. But it didn't stop her from her mission. Harriet had the lovely task of finding a place that her aunt and uncle would be the first ones to be there. If Dudley got a letter then it would be no fun as he'd spoil the surprise. No, it had to be the adults of the house who had to discover the mail.

One went into Uncle Vernon's newspaper from the previous day, right next to the crossword. He liked to take his time doing his puzzles. Another went under the dried frying pan that was laying on a towel. Aunt Petunia was sure to move it and see the letter underneath. Two went into the laundry basket, lightly tossed with Uncle Vernon's socks. He always kept them all in one basket and would pick them out when he wanted to wear a new pair. Another went into Aunt Petunia's yarn basket, she liked to knit when she was stressed. And lastly, Harriet set the last one on the mat right in front of the door. Sometimes it was better to hide it in plain sight. They'd have their guards down if they only thought there was only one.

Yawning, Harriet climbed the stairs (which was an odd feeling) and went back into her bedroom. She fell onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was so high up. Even the bed felt too big. Her little mattress was still down in the cupboard. And this bed was huge. She was almost afraid of falling off. She curled around her pillow and tucked herself into the blankets and stayed comfortably warm. Harriet closed her eyes and lightly dozed at one point.

She woke up to the sound of a drill. The sound itself wasn't unfamiliar. There were days when she'd wake up and hear Uncle Vernon installing more locks on her cupboard. She always dreaded those days. Trying to figure out how to unlock them from inside of the cupboard was almost impossible, and most of the time she'd have to sabotage them. However, instead of it being outside of her door, Harriet tumbled out of bed and peered down the hallway to the front door. Uncle Vernon was drilling a block of wood in front of the letter slot. Four letters by his feet.

"No letters coming through here!" He said cheerily, looking up at her. Harriet was deeply unsettled by him being nice to her. She just slowly nodded and backtracked to her new room. Throwing on some baggy clothing, as she felt too out of place with her pajamas on, she inwardly kicked herself. Why did she have to go an waste a letter on the front door when there were obviously going to be more appearing. She glanced outside of her window and saw a few more owls haunting the local telephone pole.

Well. At least she hid the other five.

Aunt Petunia had discovered the frying pan one fairly easily. Harriet watched with mild interest as Aunt Petunia hissed at the sight of it and threw it into the open flame of the stove. It went up like smoke, and Harriet was almost glad to see that her Aunt was out of her 'clutching pearls' stage. If she continued to hysterical every time a letter appeared, it wasn't going to be very entertaining. If anything, it seemed like her aunt had come to terms with being invaded and was actively trying not to let it get to her.

Harriet figured that it would eventually. And until then it would be fun to see how much Harriet could bother her.

Uncle Vernon found his letter in the newspaper at brunch. It slipped out and hit his large stomach. "Ah, I missed one." He said, and then ripped it into pieces. Dudley pouted but wisely didn't say a word. Harriet was almost impressed that he learned not to talk about the mail by now. Her aunt and uncle continued talking like usual, Dudley interjecting into the conversation at random points. It was normal. Unseemingly standard. Harriet figured it out pretty quickly. Her aunt and uncle were in denial. They were trying hard not to let the mail get to them. They were pretending that nothing was wrong, in a clear attempt to rug sweep the last few days from their memories.

"Girl," Aunt Petunia sniffed, her lips puckered. "Clean the house today. We have guests coming tomorrow for dinner and this house is a disaster."

Harriet nodded staring at the floor. Oh yes. Now that they were pretending everything was fine, it was time to go back to being a maid. Her small vacation was seemingly over. At least for today. Harriet was fine with that. It wasn't like she was in her cupboard doing her own thing anymore. She was actually pretty bored doing nothing in her new room. Today was going to be normal, and Harriet was indifferent about it. Although she wished that there had been more reactions to her hidden letters. However, she knew that she could do better in the following days.

"Who's coming?" Dudley asked. Harriet went over and began to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Hopefully, they wouldn't pick on her again today if she kept being busy.

Aunt Petunia reached over and grasped Uncle Vernon's hand. "Well," Vernon said, "I have an interview with a new company."

"Really? Wha's wrong with Grunnings?" Dudley asked this time through a mouthful of food. Harriet paused and then began to wash the dishes a little less noisy. She actually wanted to listen to this conversation.

"This job, if I get it, will give me a pretty significant bump in salary." Uncle Vernon beamed. "I've already gone to two interviews and this is the final one. We will have dinner with the CEO and his wife, and they'll decide whether or not I'll get the job."

"So you'll have to be on your best behavior." Aunt Petunia spoke firmly.

"Aww." Dudley sighed. "Do I have 'ta?"

"Yes dear. This is important for your father. It has to be absolutely perfect."

This was something Harriet could work with. She had been prepared to deal with the rest of the day. However, Harriet puckered her lips underneath the veil of her thick hair. 'Not if I have anything to do with that. ' She thought, her eyes slowly moving towards her cupboard. Then Harriet had a terrible, no good, awful idea. And smiled softly.

"Welcome!" Aunt Petunia, gussied up and dressed in pearls, smiled brightly at the couple at the doorway.

Harriet could only hear what was going on, but she had seen enough of these gathering to know exactly what was happening. Dudley up in a suit that made him look like a fat penguin, Uncle Vernon with a waxed mustache, and Aunt Petunia fully dressed to the nines welcoming in the guests. Bright red lipstick that only exaggerated how thin Aunt Petunia's lips were. Harriet guessed that it was supposed to make her family look better, but in the yellowed light in the dining room outfits looked greasy and unkempt.

Even if she wasn't there, Harriet could envision it perfectly. She was banished from her kitchen to her new room. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't be in her cupboard once again. It was better to hear the conversation down there than up here. But she found a surprising discovery that the vents transferred quite a lot of noise up into her room, and the living room was directly underneath her. It was like hitting the goldmine. It was a little awkward to crouch next to the vent to put her ear next to it, but Harriet couldn't wait to hear the show downstairs. She pulled a blanket around her and curled up next to the vent, her ears straining to hear everything that was going underneath her.

(Dear readers- the dialogue of this particular time isn't too interesting to listen to without being able to see it. Harriet was able to enjoy it up in her room as she knew exactly how things would happen. Well, not everything. But she knew her relatives enough to imagine what was happening downstairs in the living room. She was fine with that. However, out of the kindness of our hearts, we have decided to share with you the memory of this particular dinner. We only ask in return that you never time travel and please do not pet a donkey on July 16th. It doesn't matter the year, just don't do it. It can cause a new plague and nobody likes those.)

After a wonderful dinner, and a pretty good conversation, the group still sat at the table where Petunia was serving up a plate of cake to everybody. The Freak had cooked it all, of course, but the Dursleys were used to overlooking her participation that it didn't even register. But everything seemed to be going great, and the couple seemed to be enjoying their time at dinner.

"Oh, this is wonderful." The pretty blonde woman smiled. Mrs. Heather Smith was a stunning woman, and it normally wouldn't be such a problem if it wasn't for the fact that her husband, Mr. Todd Smith, wasn't nearly twenty years older than she was.

"Thank you." Petunia smiled, but inwardly she was mentally preparing the gossip that this scandal would make. "So Mrs. Smith-"

"Oh, please, call me Heather." The woman spoke quickly. "I always feel like my mother-in-law if you call me Mrs. Smith."

Her husband laughed, "not to mention your younger and much prettier than her."

"Heather." Petunia's smile was tighter than before, but nobody at the table noticed. "What do you like to do when your husband is at work?"

"Oh well, I work too." Heather smiled and took a small sip of wine. "Since we don't have children, I don't like staying at home and doing nothing."

Petunia snorted into her own wineglass and Vernon was quick to start a different conversation. It was a lovely evening in June, and the house was spotless. Everything in the house was perfectly clean, although the carpets still had slight stains on them. Even Dudley was behaving, if a little sullenly. However, Petunia's opinions still showed on her face. And after being married to her for many years, Vernon knew when to change the subject.

"So Mr. Smith, do you like sports?" He asked. Vernon was sweating. This dinner had so much at stake, and he took a big gulp of his drink to calm his nerves.

"Ah, a man after my heart. Just the words I was hoping somebody would ask. I love a fetching game of golf, although I used to play football when I was in school." Mr. Smith said with a deep voice. "And you can call me Todd if you like. What about you, lad? What do you like to play?" He addressed Dudley.

"Harriet Hunting," Dudley said in a bored tone.

Petunia loudly laughed suddenly and gently touched her son's shoulder. "Oh, it's a silly little game." She said lightly, "the kids around the neighborhood like to chase each other around, that's all."

"Oh really? That sounds like fun. How old are you Dudley?" Heather asked.

"Eleven." Dudley shrugged his mom's hand off his shoulder.

"That's a great age." Todd agreed. "Why, I remember chasing all the girls when I was your age. Hell, I still do to this day. That's how I got Heather to marry me." He said with a chuckle and a wink. "You know, she was my secretary when she first met me."

"Todd!" Heather lightly gasp and looked at her husband in amusement. "You sly dog, you said you weren't going to tell that. It was a secret."

"Well, sometimes you have to be adventurous." Todd laughed at his wife. "After all, that's why you married me."

(It was at this point, that Harriet one floor above, figured that the truth potion (which she renamed it to be the Blabbermouth Potion) came into effect. She had spiked the wine and drinks with it earlier that day. It hadn't been that hard to get into her cupboard and to pour a decent amount of it into the large pitcher that she had made. Nobody had noticed her, and she had felt giddy ever since. The daring and excitement Harriet had rushed to her head that she almost couldn't stop smiling. Harriet laughed quietly into her hand and leaned in further to hear the conversation.)

Petunia, feeling that perhaps the couple were getting too wrapped up in themselves, immediately agreed. "Oh yes. We're both adventurous too." Even the words coming out of her mouth felt strange, as it seemed so out of character.

"Oh yes." Vernon agreed and grasped Petunia's hand in his. "We do all sorts of daring things."

"Oh?" Heather looked at them curiously. "What do you like to do?"

"We um…" Petunia trailed off and looked at Vernon like a deer in headlights. "We like to do-"

"Biking." Vernon finished the sentence. "We like to go biking around the neighborhood." His words were slightly stilted but the couple didn't seem to notice. He was starting to sweat like a pig.

"Oh? I remember when Todd got me my first motorbike. I was skeptical but I grew to love having the wind in my hair." Heather smiled brilliantly. "What kind of bike to do you have?"

"Erm. I don't remember off the top of my head." Vernon stammered out. His face was red, and sweat began to trickle down his face.

"I get that. They all have to be named some random numbers or whatever. Perhaps later we could go out to your garage and take a look at it, eh?" Todd said. "We own… how many again?"

"Seventeen. Well, actually sixteen, if you aren't counting the one that went off the bridge." Heather spoke.

"Oh yes. We don't talk about that one. It was rather embarrassing." Todd nodded, "at least our insurance company didn't find out about that!" He laughed and turned back to the Dursleys. "So what other things do you guys like to do? Skiing? Hiking? Skydiving? Whatever it is, Heather and I have tried it all."

"Oh." Petunia said quietly. "Well, we uh. Like to stay in most days. But there is a rare occasion that we like to go out and do things. Like, Vernon's sister is in Spain and we were just talking about how good the food is over there."

"Spain is a dream." Heather said, "all sunshine and warm weather. Although their tea is something that could be better. They drink so much coffee, you know. When was the last time you've been there? Todd and I were there the last few years to run with the bulls."

"Right." Vernon shifted in his chair. It creaked ominously. "We were there, um. About, uh."

"Five years?" Petunia answered for him.

"Really? What did you do?" Todd asked.

The two Dursley's were stuck for a few seconds. "We were enjoying the sunshine," Petunia said weakly. "We still didn't do very much, just enjoyed the sights and shopped a bit."

The conversation lulled. The two adult Dursleys took that time to both take a long drink from their glass. The Smith's had a mouthful of cake, and Dudley was looking down at his lap. (It was later found out that Dudley had snuck his new handheld Nintendo Gameboy and was playing it the entire time, not paying attention at all. This revelation wasn't surprising, as Dudley often tuned things out all the time.) And so it was probably due to a mixture of anxiety, a slight overdose of the blabbermouth potion from drinking too much wine, that the words came out of Petunia.

"Well, there was that one other time we were pretty wild." She said with a small giggle. She felt light-headed, and the words sort of leaked out of her mouth. Her pride and shame were almost an afterthought.

"What?" Vernon asked, taken aback.

"Do you remember…" Petunia leaned in and looked at Vernon coyly, her voice soft enough that only her husband could hear it. "That night when we conceived Dudley?" She giggled once again, obnoxiously.

Vernon abruptly coughed into his hand, his face going redder. He grabbed his drink and downed it to stop coughing.

"What did she just say?" Heather asked, confused.

"She…" Uncle Vernon paused, his voice raspy. Then the potion kicked in stronger, and he really didn't have much choice in the matter. "She was talking about the time we had sex when I wore women's lingerie."

Needless to say, the evening didn't go very well after that.

Monday marked a solid seven days since the letters began to arrive. Harriet woke up early, with still grumbling, and grabbed the impressive stack of mail that had been delivered the previous day. The Dursleys were unaware that the owls had delivered any post on Sunday. As Harriet had spent the entirety of the day cleaning, she had been the first to come across any letters. That, and leaving her window open left the owls a way for them to leave the papers on her floor. By the end of Sunday Harriet had fourteen letters to distribute around the home. After learning her lesson, Harriet left a couple up in her new room to move them around during the day.

Yawning lazily, Harriet went downstairs quietly unlatched the front door and went outside. It was a cool dewy morning, and Harriet shivered as she stepped onto the freezing cold ground with her bare feet. Still, she had a mission to do, and it would be silly to leave it unfinished. Harriet tucked letters in every window sill she could reach, and then went ahead and did the same to Uncle Vernon's car windows. She placed a few in the rose bushes out in the back that was visible to the windows and stuck a couple into the newspaper that was already lying on the front door mat. She was past the point of subtle, and into the range of 'overwhelm them with numbers.'

As she was heading back inside, Harriet threw a lazy salute to the owls that were already starting to gather on the telephone pole. Harriet figured that they were going to leave the letters in obvious places, but Harriet was going to start putting them where the owls wouldn't. She crawled back into bed and rubbed her feet until they felt warmer. When she wasn't summoned to make breakfast, Harriet figured that her ploy worked and yet another great day of vacation of being the household slave was coming. She heard her aunt and uncle pass her room a few times, and the door slammed loud enough that her window shook in its pane. Harriet took her time getting up and put on Dudley's old clothes before slipping out and seeing what all the commotion was about.

The outcome of that morning was that Uncle Vernon was in a painfully cheery mood. A fire was started in the fireplace. Harriet walked downstairs to see him with a handful of ripped up letters and him tossing them into the flames one by one. It was July. And yet Uncle Vernon had a roaring fire in the house. When he looked up at her he gave her a smile before tossing a letter into the flames.

"A good morning for a fire, if I do say so myself." He said. Harriet was unnerved by his good mood and hastily nodded before backing into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia was already banging pots around, in a foul mood. The stark contrast between her aunt and uncle felt like they were giving Harriet whiplash. "Get the eggs," she snapped when she saw Harriet enter. Harriet moved to the fridge and grabbed the nearly empty carton of eggs. Harriet left them next to where Petunia was making a mess, and her aunt practically snarled when she opened the package. "We're almost out. You'll need to go to the store today." Her voice was bitter and snappish.

Harriet didn't answer, and her aunt didn't force her to. Honestly, it would be great to get out. She was almost out of superglue anyways, and perhaps she could glue a letter to a window or something. That'll be fun. Really, Harriet hadn't had this much fun openly tormenting her family. There was something about it that made this whole thing a lot better. The letters and their fear of her finding out were pretty hilarious. Although it made her wonder why her aunt and uncle tried so hard to keep her out of the loop. What about magic that scared them? And did she have to know about it in order to make whatever terrified them happen?

Breakfast was served early. Although it was given that it wasn't the post that was giving them the letters, the Dursleys made sure that it was over by the time Mr. Green, the postman, came by. However, this day also marked by a difference. Uncle Vernon had to go to work.

"So your dinner didn't go well?" Dudley asked. Harriet turned to look at him and had the urge to yell at him. He was there. He saw the show go down in front of his eyes, and he didn't understand what happened? Harriet would have killed to have seen how things had gone down. Hearing it was hilarious, no doubt about it, but seeing her aunt and uncle panic would have been amazing. Harriet rolled her eyes and went back to scrubbing the pans. Dudley was Dudley, in her opinion, and he couldn't change even if he wanted to. Her stomach rumbled, and she wished she had been able to eat but there wasn't anything left over.

"No." Uncle Vernon said normally, although with a bitter tone. "We found out while saying goodbye that they were never considering me in the first place. They just wanted free food."

"Oh." Dudley grew silent. "That is… not good." He trailed off.

"At least they were honest about it." Petunia said sternly. "It's better to know what kind of people they were at the beginning rather than worry about the promotion or not."

"And Grunnings has a new job opening," Vernon said, puffing his chest out. "It'll still be a pay raise, and I'm applying for it. But if it doesn't work out, I'll still have a job." He grabbed his suitcase and Aunt Petunia reached out and straightened his tie.

"Have a lovely day, Vernon." Petunia said softly and pecked her husband on the lips. Vernon returned the small embrace and opened the door, only to step on a large pile of letters. Even Harriet, who was lurking in the background, noticed how big it was. There had to be more than twenty there.

"That's it." Vernon hissed. "Petunia, I don't want you or the kids going out today." He reached down and grabbed the stack of letters in his meaty hands. It was a short walk to the fireplace, where he dumped it all on. The flames surged up with the new material to feed on, and Harriet began to sweat with the sudden increase of heat.

"But I was going to send her to get groceries." Aunt Petunia objected weakly.

"No. I don't want any of you out. What if one of them comes to the door? Or if the freak is outside and one of those blasted birds drops a letter on her. No, I want all of you to stay inside. I'll talk to the neighbors to see if they'd agree to deliver some groceries. But for now, keep inside the house." Vernon said firmly. Petunia weakly nodded, and Vernon quickly departed for work.

Harriet blinked a few times mulishly before turning back towards her chores. Do they want to keep her locked up with Dudley? Oh, that would go over badly. For him. Harriet knew that Dudley would want to go outside with his wannabe gang of friends. It was their very limited summertime, especially since Dudley was going to a boarding school. It would be like a punishment to keep him indoors. And Harriet wouldn't put up with him messing around with her. Oh no. She'd make sure of it.

On Tuesday, Harriet had eighteen letters that had been delivered to her window during the night. She had woken up even earlier, much to her greatest displeasure. But since being under house arrest, she had found the time to take a cat nap here or there.

Aunt Petunia was going mad. She was a very sociable woman, Harriet figured out. And having to stay at home wasn't exactly her definition of a fun time. So Petunia, to Harriet's surprise, was doing the chores herself. Harriet figured it was something to do with her time, and to keep herself busy, but that also left Harriet with nothing to do. Aunt Petunia was busy with housework, and Dudley spent all day in front of the telly with a bowl of sugary sweets. Aunt Petunia had planned for Dudley's tantrum and simply plied him with the remaining sweets in the house and let him stay in front of the television. Which saved Harriet from murdering her cousin, so she guessed it was a bonus. Harriet simply left them alone and went to her room to take a long deserved nap. And to plan of course. There was one letter she was keeping. Just in case this whole fiasco doesn't turn out well, and Harriet didn't have a school list or anything, she was going to make sure she had a backup plan. But there were so many that kept appearing, Harriet was mildly surprised that Dudley hadn't gotten his hands on one yet. They were everywhere. Even with Harriet hiding them around the house, they appeared wherever the owls dropped them. The lawn was a mess of paper every day.

And so, armed with a stack of mail and a package of tape, Harriet hurried down the stairs and opened the door to find the groceries that a thoughtful neighbor had gotten them. Harriet hadn't a clue who bought them or why, but they were there on the porch. And it was still dark out that nobody could see her.

Harriet started with the eggs. Carefully, she wrapped them with a letter. Each. It was easy, and it didn't have to be pretty. Then she moved on, taping the letters around the orange juice carton, popping open the cereal boxes to side them in, folding them around the pudding cups. Then Harriet left as quickly as she came, moving instead to get into her cupboard. It was time to move things around. It was so comfortable to be in the cupboard that it almost hurt to have been away for so long. It felt like home. But Harriet took the time to clean things out and to move everything back into her mum's chest. The mason jars full of her potions were carefully placed, the books that she had hidden in the corners were replaced, and finally, Harriet put back her mum's journal. And then paused, finally looking at a book.

The Marauders Componium. Harriet had really liked looking at it when she was younger. Not to look at the spells or anything, but at the written notes from her dad. And there were a few potions in the back of the book, but it wasn't a large enough section that Harriet constantly looked back at it. In fact, Harriet hadn't really read the book. It seemed so confusing when she was younger. It had so many big words and complicated gestures, Harriet had gotten a headache or two just by trying to read it. And since she didn't have a wand at the time, Harriet hadn't really wanted to read about the things that she couldn't understand or even perform. She had given up a few weeks into trying to understand it.

But now her wand was almost here. She was going to Hogwarts soon. And her dad himself had made these spells with his friends. Perhaps now that she was a bit older, Harriet figured she could understand a bunch more now if she read it. She pulled it out and tucked it under her shirt. Then Harriet shrank the trunk and hurried up the stairs. There weren't the greatest hiding places in her new room. But Harriet had figured out that she could temporarily stash it under her bed for the time being. The sun was starting to pink the sky, and so Harriet folded back the cover and started once again at the beginning. It was always good to start at the first page.

'This book is for those who laugh in the face of adversity. For the people who are beaten down for not being something that you didn't choose to be. For having laughs with your best friends, even when one of them is bleeding from head to toe. For the outcasted and abandoned, for the ones who have been disowned by their families, and for those who can't get the pretty girl. Those of you who'd wish to learn about the great and powerful Marauders, we invite you to solemnly swear that you are up to no good.

Sincerely, Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs.'

The words struck home.

It was weird to say it but Harriet felt that her dad knew exactly what was happening when he wrote those words. They were there for her. Although there were parts that didn't apply to her, like the friends being hurt part. But Hogwarts was coming up! And without Dudley to scare off everybody who tried to be her friend, Harriet was sure that she could find one. She wasn't sure what she'd do with a friend, the idea of it seemed to be so strange to her. Harriet was alone. She always has been. But maybe she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. That thought set a deep desire inside of her alight. A friend to depend on. A mate to laugh with. The idea of it made Harriet almost deliriously happy.

Harriet traced the words with a finger. She loved doing that. The feathers that wizards write with left imprints on the pages. She liked feeling the words under her fingertips, knowing that the person who pressed the quill into the page actually touched it. It was a reminder that people wrote the words. That they touched this book. And that they really existed.

Harriet lightly traced her fingers over the message. Reading it and rereading it. It felt wrong not to give the introduction more attention. It was a message to her, and Harriet treated it with her full attention. Her fingers brushed the page near the end of the paragraph and Harriet felt an odd sensation. She didn't know what, or why, but it felt almost natural to say the words. Her fingers brushed over 'we invite you to-'

"-solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Harriet whispered lightly finishing the sentence. And within a blink of an eye, the words shifted unexpectedly. The ripple of ink and words and designs appeared. Harriet watched as the page bled black ink and shifted until one word appeared.

'Welcome.'

Wednesday started with the house on a tighter lockdown. Harriet couldn't leave her room to distribute letters. Tuesday was as much as a mess that Harriet had hoped it would be. After Aunt Petunia found the groceries covered in letters, Uncle Vernon decided to lock down the house even further. That meant he spent the night sleeping in the hallway, keeping an eye out for any mail that was trying to get past him. Harriet almost didn't see him, but luckily had spotted him before stepping on his face in the dark. Instead, she wisely hightailed it back up the stairs and went into her room with her heart pounding.

The owls were appearing again, this time with force. They disappeared sometime after sunset and came before the sky started to turn colors. There were more every day. Letters were launched into Harriet's room as she kept her window open. Which Harriet thought was rather stupid of her relatives not to realize that she a way to interact with the birds. Like always, Harriet found it amusing by how easy it was to get her hands on the letters. However, when Harriet crept back into her room she pouted.

How was she supposed to spread mayhem if she couldn't plant the letters anywhere? And she had a huge stack of them too! Harriet groaned and fell onto her bed. Then an owl screeched, shaking her from her sullen thoughts.

Owls. What could she do with owls? There were two on the windowsill. They liked to hang around but they weren't nearby for her to interact with often. Usually in the morning before she got up they'd be there, but after her rounds in the house, they would be on the telephone pole outside. Or on the fence. Really, there was starting to be an absurd amount of them everywhere.

"Hey," Harriet said quietly to the owl. A bit unsure if it understood her, but nevertheless, it was her only hope. "Could you do me a favor?" She paused. "I'll give you a piece of bacon if you do it."

The owl screeched. Harriet flinched at the loud noise, but she figured that it meant 'yes.' Harriet smiled. She lifted up a hefty stack of envelopes, and said, "when Aunt Petunia opens the kitchen window to air out the kitchen, could you throw all of these in?"

The owl screeched once again and snatched the pile of mail from Harriet's hands, and took off. She watched it fly away until it disappeared from her view, a small smile on her face.

Later that day, Harriet watched with barely contained mirth as Aunt Petunia without fail burnt the hashbrowns. She had been constantly doing it for days now. After opening the window a stack of letters violently hit her aunt in the face, causing her to crash to the ground. Letters scattered everywhere, and Dudley went for them. Harriet even tried to go for one, just to add to the scene. She also slipped a handful of bacon into her pocket during the mad rush as Vernon tried to keep both her and Dudley away from the window and Aunt Petunia began to wail loudly.

Afterward, banished to her room for the rest of the day, Harriet burst out into hysterics. The image of Aunt Petunia's face getting hit with a stack of mail was so hilarious that it was forever burned into her head. Harriet couldn't stop smiling, as she began to jump and do a victory dance. An owl pecked on her window and Harriet couldn't stop breathlessly laughing as she pulled out a large piece of bacon and gave it to the owl.

"Do you think," Harriet smiled joyously, a wonderful idea coming to her head. Oh, this day was just getting better. "You could get be a pigeon? An alive one? I'll give you," she fumbled through her pocket and pulled out the remaining greasy meat. "Three whole slices of bacon?"

The owl chirped at her and took off. Harriet twirled around and let the good mood take over. It was so relieving to make her relatives suffer. There was something about it that just made her giddy. It was worth it. After every stressful day, after feeling faint from not having food or water for days, for her skin cracking and bleeding from the chemicals she was forced to use to clean, this was the moment of her life where she got back. And just the image of Aunt Petunia getting a faceful of paper to the face shot at her from an owl was pretty fulfilling. Harriet twirled and fell onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a breathless glee that filled her. She loved the mail coming in.

And… after spending all night looking through the Marauders Componium last night… Harriet would have said that her dad would have approved as well. That made it so much better, in her opinion. To know that her dad would be laughing along with her pranks.

(And to think, he had been pulling her leg all this time. The final prank of James Potter. For years Harriet had been trying to understand the Marauders Compendium. Years! She had spent countless nights staying up and looking up words in the dictionary that didn't actually exist! She figured that it had been some sort of high-level witchcraft knowledge and Harriet couldn't find anything about it in her mum's trunk. Not even the Quibbers had anything. When Harriet finally figured out that it had been locked this entire time, and she had been reading garbage, she screamed into her pillow. No wonder there had been so many weird insults and jokes littered throughout the entire novel. In fact, one page graphically described a deer doing something unmentionable. It had all been a joke. Harriet wanted to bang her head in frustration, but instead spitefully started to read as much as she could in the handmade novel as she could. She was years behind, and she needed to catch up.)

"Be free my minion." Harriet held the pigeon arm's length from her. She stood at the top of the stairs, the familiar sound of the Dursleys down in the kitchen gorging themselves on food. It was Thursday, and the owl took his time locating the cooing bird. The owl took off with his reward early that morning, and Harriet was stuck with trying to get a letter to stick to the pigeon. Breakfast had been made, and Harriet was obviously not invited to the table. The Dursleys left her alone that morning. They had their own problems to deal with, and Harriet had to take the time to create the obstacles for her family. It took a long time, the bird wasn't happy with the mail being stuck to his body. But Harriet won in the end. With a letter from Hogwarts tied haphazardly to the bird, she left her room and hovered above the stairs.

Major Louis, the now dubbed pigeon, was the first ally in her war against her relatives. He was automatically rose through the ranks as there wasn't anybody else in her army. She was a General, of course, and therefore had the ultimate say in any plans that were made. They had bonded, as much as a human and a pigeon off the streets of Surrey could have in common. Harriet gave the bird a one-handed salute and then tossed it over the rail and towards the kitchen. She heard him take flight in a flutter of feathers and then-

"Oh my god, they're in my house!" Aunt Petunia screeched so loud Harriet saw the stair rail tremble at the noise.

"Out! Out!" Uncle Vernon shouted, and Dudley yelled something but the crashing and the sound of metal hitting metal drowned him out. Harriet hurried down the stairs, appearing in the doorway to see the disaster that she had caused.

The table was on its side, Aunt Petunia behind it staring out fearfully as she clutched Dudley with her claws. Breakfast was, for the umpteenth time, was ruined and on the ground. Harriet was beginning to see a small pattern for that. Any time breakfast was ruined, she had a really good day. Uncle Vernon had grabbed the broom from where it was hidden behind the fridge and started to swing it at the ceiling. Major Louis was fighting a great fight! He was dodging the broom with surprising accuracy. Harriet mildly wondered if he had been in any other wars before this one.

"Get it out! Get it out!" Aunt Petunia screamed as Major Louis dipped towards her head. Dudley might have said, "cool," but he was thrown down as Aunt Petunia tried to protect him from the bird.

Then Uncle Vernon hit Major Louis for the first time. The bird went sailing into the living room, where it promptly flew back into the air. Harriet had only just enough time to let out a short gasp of horror when Major Louis, her lifetime pal, and comrade, flew straight into the twirling ceiling fan.

The result was too ghastly to properly describe.

Her mouth hung open as she stared at the remains of the bird. She hadn't meant for that to happen. In fact, everybody seemed to be in a state of shock. Aunt Petunia didn't say a word and Uncle Vernon didn't move as they gazed at the gory mess of what was once a bird that was all over the couch and telly. Feathers were scattered everywhere, drifting down through the air. Blood was, to put it eloquently, sprayed across everything.

"Is it dead?" Aunt Petunia asked, rising from the ground. Dudley took his time to stand him, glass falling from his clothes. The dining room was more of a mess than what Harriet had first seen. The table had shattered the plates and glasses, food was spread out everywhere, and pictures were skewed from where Vernon had hit them with the broom.

Rather than answering Petunia's question, Uncle Vernon locked his eyes on Harriet. " You." He snarled and stomped towards her. Harriet froze. From the countless times in her life, Harriet felt paralyzed seeing Uncle Vernon come towards her in a bad mood. He grasped her loose shirt and yanked her back and forth, her head whipping back and painfully pinching her neck.

"This is all your fault." He spat into her face as he roared.

Any humor from the last few days suddenly vanished as the pain set in. The terror of being near her uncle's wrath reformed inside of her and Harriet's throat felt like it closed up. She stared up at him with wide green eyes, unable to speak a word. Pleading with words unspoken. He didn't care. "If you weren't here then none of this would have happened!" He shook her harder, and Harriet couldn't breathe. She took short sharp breaths through her nose, her eyes blinking fast.

"Vernon." Petunia from behind him called, her voice with worry.

Harriet had a long and terrible moment where Uncle Vernon stared down at her. He had blue eyes. She hated blue eyes. His face was a terrible red color, and Harriet could tell he was just itching for an excuse to take his rage out on her. She felt her face freeze, praying that nothing she did would set him off. She could only hope.

He stared her down, his blue eyes without any remorse. Then he shoved her backward unexpectedly. Harriet stumbled back but lost her balance. Her hands slapped the ground but her head painfully collided with the corner of the wall. Lights flashed before her eyes as she curled up in a ball, her head in her hands.

The sound around her went wonky. Harriet closed her eyes as her balance shifted, and she felt like she was on a tightrope instead of on the ground. Her head was pounding so bad it hurt to open her eyes. She could hear Uncle Vernon yelling and Aunt Petunia talking. Dudley remained silent. Harriet could feel where her skin split open, blood was spilling through her fingers as she tried desperately to hold herself together. It hurt. It hurt really bad. The pain set in and it was all that she could focus on.

Then a foot caught her in her side, making all the air in her lungs left her suddenly. The emptiness in her lungs made her panic until her body managed to function after several long seconds. It burned like fire to pull in the air, hot and dry. The struggle to breathe was terrifying for those few moments. Her ribs ached and a sharp pain began to manifest itself in her side, stitching itself into her bones and organs.

Then she felt a thick hand grab her hair and yank her tender head back. A strangled half yelp came out of Harriet's mouth. It felt like lighting flashed, hot and burning in her head. She could feel the tears leaving trails down her face. It hurt.

Uncle Vernon's voice was near enough that she could hear him perfectly, even though the rest of the noise felt distant and far away. "You are going to clean up this mess." He whispered, "and I will be watching you. If you make any move to do any of your freakishness, I will be watching. And I will not have mercy, do you understand me?" Harriet didn't move in his grip, and he suddenly violently shook her head back and forth. Harriet almost threw up with the sudden motion. "Do you understand me?" He repeated again and Harriet achingly nodded her head as tears leaked from her closed eyes. "Good." And he dropped her. Harriet fell without any resistance to the floor, her shoulder banging on the carpet jarringly. She instantly curled up, making herself small and covering her head in the hopes to protect it.

She knew she didn't have time to drag herself together. If anything, Harriet had gone through worse things. She knew she had survived through it all. But every time something like this came along, it felt like it was the worst. But Harriet knew that she could survive. She was strong. But even the strong still hurt and wished that they could go pity cry in the corner for three days. Instead, Harriet didn't have much of a choice. Uncle Vernon could do worse if he wanted and he would if she didn't move soon. Gathering her thoughts, as much as her bleeding head could allow her, Harriet pulled herself up from the ground and staggered over to the cleaning cabinet. Her arms trembled and her fingers bled as she picked up the glass from the ground and slowly began to right the kitchen back to a normal state. Uncle Vernon looming over her, watching her every move.

And if Harriet had tears falling from her eyes freely, Uncle Vernon didn't say a word about it. Instead, he pointed out the areas that she missed and told her to hurry up. He didn't have all day.

Friday and Saturday were hell. Harriet felt off. She had always felt a bit weird after having head injuries, and they always took some time for them to disappear. And so it wasn't a surprise when Harriet couldn't keep her balance around the house. Aunt Petunia snapped at her a few times for leaning on the counter when making lunch. And after a while, her aunt sent her to her room. Dizzy from the lack of food, Harriet fell into a restless slumber that lasted most of the day and well into the next night. She awoke only a few times but Harriet had found out that Uncle Vernon had put a lock on her door. She couldn't leave her room. She was trapped.

Friday came and Harriet didn't open her window. Owls were everywhere. She peeked out to see a massive amount of them. There had to be hundreds. And letters… well, they were everywhere to put it simply. They were on every surface on the lawn. In the bushes, on the trees, in the gutters, around the fence, the mail was everywhere she looked. Harriet watched as Uncle Vernon went out to pick them all up in a garbage sack. The neighbors were watching, Harriet noted. Miss Figg was out with her cats.

The thought of the old woman made Harriet duck into the room. She didn't want to see that old hag anymore. Just the thought of her looking after her for her magical guardian made Harriet want to throw up. Harriet didn't want to do with anything with Albus Dumbledore. Harriet didn't go around the window anymore, and mostly just sat around the room. Her mind was still too jumbled around for her to try and read. The tiny text would always swirl around and she didn't want the extra headache, so reading was out. And Harriet had only just begun to read her father's book. Dismayed that she was locked up and couldn't read, Harriet was truly miserable.

Friday was a day where Harriet mostly napped and felt guilty. She really hadn't meant to kill the bird. Maybe just scare her relatives around. She was sure that a window would have been open and through the effort of Uncle Vernon the bird would have been chased out of there. However, she hadn't thought about the ceiling fan. Major Louis, sadly, was the first casualty of the war. And Harriet had been the one who sent the poor bird to its grizzly death.

Saturday was just like a normal day. Harriet understood that she was being punished by being locked in her room now. But from the vent and the general noise that Dudley made, Harriet figured out that her relatives had found the other hidden letters that she had placed throughout the house. It was just as well. In fact, it was a relief. Because if they kept on finding them then that meant Harriet wasn't the one technically responsible for putting them there. They wouldn't put the two and two together and figure out that it was Harriet who hid them in the house. However, Harriet had a hard time trying to figure out if her relatives knew if she had set the bird loose and started making their lives more hectic, or if Uncle Vernon just snapped and was taking out the stress on her.

Either way, her relatives were unpredictable and for all that Harriet knew, they were mad at her for standing around and doing nothing. But Saturday was a better day, Harriet got the small privilege of a small three-minute shower, a glass of water, and an old piece of bread. Harriet of course, gulped down as much water as she could while she was in the shower trying to get the flakey residue of the blood off her head. That helped a lot with her dizziness. Turns out being dehydrated made things a lot worse. And it cleared her head a lot. Less dizzy and filled with spite, Harriet wanted payback. And badly.

It was when she was pushed back into her room and the door slammed behind her, that Harriet took action. She had overdone it the first time. The pranks were too strange and magical. They made her aunt and uncle so stressed that they finally took it out on her. Well, this time, Harriet wasn't going to stand in the way of their anger. The birds will be taking that part. They were scared more of what the owls brought than of Harriet herself. And so for the first time in two days, Harriet opened her window and peered out at the owls.

"You know," she called out softly, "you could always put your letters in the chimney."

"I love Sunday." Uncle Vernon cheerily said, biting into a biscuit. "Dudley, do you know why I love Sundays?"

Harriet was finally free but had gone back into her role of the indentured slave. On the plus side, she could actually eat food. The negative side was that she was around her family again. She placed yet another glass of milk in front of Dudley who was gorging himself on cookies. The telly was on, playing some loud and obnoxious wrestling match. Harriet knew better than to let herself watch it. Or even glance at it. Not in front of her relatives. Aunt Petunia was in her corner, knitting in her rocking chair.

"Why?" Dudley asked.

"Because," Uncle Vernon said in a sing-song voice. "There is no post on Sunday."

Aunt Petunia looked up and smiled. This day had been anticipated, Harriet realized. They didn't know that the owls still came the previous Sunday because she got them all first. That, and since the owls haven't dropped any letters on the lawn yet. The Dursley's honestly thought that this day was magic-free. Aunt Petunia looked more relaxed and Uncle Vernon kept on drinking the bourbon.

When would the owls-

Harriet didn't have to wonder very long before the first letter shot out and smacked Vernon in the face. The man blinked in surprise in his drunken state. Then the noise was awful. Paper sliding on paper, the letters shooting out from the immense pressure of all of them weighing on each other. It started with one, then three or four came out. It was all so sudden and fast, Harriet didn't have time to react. One second there was nothing and then the next, the mail was shooting freely into the air from the chimney. It filled the air, mail covering every inch of the room. The paper floated freely in the air, covering the room. Uncle Vernon shouted and Aunt Petunia screamed. Dudley was bewildered, his tiny brain unable to comprehend what was going on.

Letters. Letters everywhere. It was a Dursley's worst nightmare. Harriet wanted to laugh. But the lesson from the previous days was enough to keep her from being obviously entertained by this. It didn't stop Aunt Petunia from shooting her a death glare. As if the older woman knew that Harriet was somehow behind this. Harriet could already envision the fallout of this particular adventure, she'd be locked up forever this time. Starving to death. No! Harriet was done being locked up and put away.

Harriet decided to take action. She didn't know what she was doing at first, but she still went along with it. Harriet snatched a letter from the air and Uncle Vernon turned towards her. Neighbors. That was her first thought of safety. If she could get into the sight of some neighbors then she'd be saved. But alas, Harriet didn't take more than a few steps before he caught her and seized the letter from her hand.

Piles and piles of mail were littering the floor and more were pouring in. There were so many letters that it didn't feel like there was enough air to breathe. "That's it!" Uncle Vernon roared above the noise of the paper. "We are leaving! And now!"

It was nearing midnight. Harriet laid on the sandy rocky floor with only a small blanket to cover her. The darkness reminded her of her cupboard, but the noise of the ocean outside crashing against the small island that they were on reminded her that they weren't in Surrey anymore. The cold bitterness of the ground and air made her shiver and wish she was in her cupboard. There was a small part of her that wished that none of this didn't happen. The letters, the owls, the pranks. Harriet was pretty content in her life. She had learned the tricks of keeping her head down. Just clean and make sure that they didn't pay attention to her. But instead, Harriet was on a rock in the middle of the ocean, and her relatives might leave her here in the morning. In fact, Harriet had no idea where she was anymore. After a long and confusing drive, not to mention having to sit next to Dudley, Harriet was exhausted. Her head still pounded. Harriet was tired. Overstimulated, all she wanted was to be in her cupboard and to be left alone for a week. And to sleep. Oh, how Harriet wished to be asleep right now.

But on the car ride over, Harriet had seen the date on a sign. She had forgotten entirely that her birthday was coming up. It blindsided her just how Hogwarts had. She had been so wrapped up with the mail that it slipped her mind that every passing day, Harriet's birthday was coming up. It was up to her to remember it, not that her relatives would have cared. Her eleventh birthday was tomorrow, and it was Harriet's small tradition of staying up past midnight. It wasn't like she stayed up every night to the early hours of the morning. But it was this night that made it special. Even if she felt like she was halfway across the world right now, in the middle of nowhere with her hateful relatives, Harriet wasn't going to give up her small birthday celebration.

She traced a small cake in the sand, wasting her time until the clock on the wall struck midnight. It felt like forever waiting for the next day to come. But time passed as it always did, and Harriet had managed to make a decent drawing of a cake. She stared up at the clock, watching it tick second by second until it came time to count down. ' Five. Four. Three. Two,' Harriet thought, ' one.' She held her dusty fingers over her eyes and blew, making a wish. The cake drawing vanished the sand light enough that it spread across the floor.

'I wish, ' Harriet thought, 'that I had some black newt eyes. For free. They're expensive.' She paused before continuing, 'and maybe some hen's teeth. And a mermaids hair. Those are really cool. A yeti's toenail. Perhaps some fire tree oil. I would love-'

Bang.

Harriet jumped in surprise at the sudden noise. She hurriedly stood on her feet, staring in shock as a man, taller and wider than she had ever seen before, came into the small shack. He had knocked the door in! And he was so hairy!

"Hullo, Harriet." The man said in a booming voice. "Ye look just like yer mum."

(This particular tale was entertaining to us. In fact, it's a favorite moment for everybody in the Harry Potter department. It's one of the perks of being in our department. Nobody liked the Dursleys. We saw time and time again of them abusing and destroying a young child. They were not the greatest people, and if they didn't exist in the original universe, we would have written them out of existence long ago. They are a bitter type of person that nobody in our department can stand. (John in the corner even put up their pictures on the dart board. We've used it so much that we put up new pictures every week.) And so watching them panic when the letters came was cathartic to us. The ending madness that came from such an occasion had a soft spot in our hearts that we liked to watch over and over again. Harriet's actions made her tale stand out, but there were a certain few other stories that were almost close as entertaining as hers. (We all liked to put together a montage of our favorite moments and watch them at the Christmas Party. And let's just say, that Harriet's tricks are definitely going into it.)

(Zachary Potter, the fucked up universe, was surprisingly the number one in our 'letter chaos' spot. Yes, there is a list. We update it quite often. And honestly, it was hard not to like Zachary after he accidentally hit his uncle in the face with a bat. Just walking through the house of Number 4 Privet Drive, he could cause so much destruction that his relatives sent him to live in the shed. Even when he had a letter delivered to his little shack, he opened it in front of his cousin. However, Zachary destroyed the outside of the letter where the address was, and Dudley loudly proclaiming that it was for him, the Dursleys almost had a heart attack at the thought of their son being the magical one. The ensuing mayhem and disaster were outrageously funny to us. Nothing could really top it. And since Zachary opened a letter, no more came after the first one as the magic figured that he must've read it.

And if you are wondering, Harriet's adventures landed her on the list too. She is number five.)

In another parallel universe, Harriet wasn't so kind with her family. This is about another Harriet that we have spoken of before.

Since the age of nine, Harriet had terrorized them. Not in a nice way, where pranks were made and Harriet had a few laughs. No, this was in the mean spirited, demeaning way. The kind that Harriet forced her family to pamper her. She was a terrifying girl. She had been since she was seven. And so when her letter arrived, her aunt and uncle left her to it. Fear of her magical powers, and of the wizarding world if they kept it from her, her relatives reluctantly let her have it. To be honest, it was a blessing for them that this letter arrived. They wanted her out. The monster that ruled over their lives. And Hogwarts seemed to be the best place for it.

Harriet didn't find it to be a concern and opened it only when it suited her after forgetting it for a few days. It was alright, she guessed as she perused through the contents. The classes sounded boring. As the Lord of Number Four Privet Drive, Harriet wasn't too keen on going to Hogwarts because then her family could get unruly. But she knew that she needed to go anyways. Compared to her family, she was clearly the most powerful of them all. But in order for her to be better, to gain more strength with her magic, Harriet had to learn. And Hogwarts was the way to go.

Sighing, Harriet penned in her acceptance and sent it off with a convenient owl nearby. Harriet didn't want to go, she knew that she wasn't going to like it one bit. But the idea of having more knowledge, more information, it was tempting enough that she knew that she needed to go. The power that she could get from this was unimaginable that it was enticing enough for her. She sat on her bed, staring out the window. She had been given Dudley's second bedroom years ago, and so it was filled with her knick-knacks and clutter. Things that she had forced her aunt to buy for her.

She picked up the old worn book from her bed and flicked through the pages. 'Ingredients and Why They Do What They Do' fell onto the bed as she let it drop. It was boring now. The only book that she had been able to get her hands on, and she had the whole thing memorized. Harriet sighed and looked out the window once more, thinking of all that she could do once she was able to go to school. Once she had the knowledge and her wand, she'd be unstoppable. And grinned.

'Albus Dumbledore will pay,' she thought nastily. 'He wouldn't know what will hit him.'