Chapter Text
After Harry had gotten his letter from Hogwarts, he didn’t think anything exciting would happen on Privet Drive. It was on the fifteenth of June, the same year Harry was meant to start his second year of Hogwarts, that he was proven wrong. –
Harry, as usual for that particular summer, hoped for mail from Ron, Hermione, someone, but worried that nothing would come. He tried to console himself with the notion that perhaps they were too busy, or the letters had simply become lost, but that didn’t stop the ugly gnawing feeling in his chest that they didn’t want to send anything, that they didn’t care to keep in touch.
That can’t be right, he tried to tell himself. After all we’ve been through-
Maybe they just don’t like him anymore. The Dursleys always said he wasn’t worth the trouble he caused, everyone except Dahlia...
Stamping down that feeling, Harry was about to go see if anything was in the mail for him when Petunia, with surprising speed, passed him and hurriedly collected all of the mail.
“Oh do get out of the way, will you?” Petunia snapped at him, though with significantly less bite than usual.
That was the peculiar bit. In the last few weeks, Petunia had been acting...oddly, and it wasn’t just because she (incorrectly) believed he could jinx her outside of school. Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his aunt seemed more stressed than usual.
Other things, like Petunia seemingly forgetting to make meals or tidy the house, had puzzled him. Her concentration on things was also lacking, as one time Dudley tried to get Harry in trouble did little more than see Petunia send Harry to his room. However, the biggest instance had to have been when Petunia had actually forgotten that Vernon was bringing guests over one day. It was actually fairly impressive to see how fast she could tidy everything up by the time Vernon opened the door.
As it was, Petunia again wasn’t paying enough attention to her surroundings, as she was focused on sifting through the mail. Something she saw made her stiffen as she entered the living room.
However, because she was so focused on whatever it was that worried her so, she didn’t notice Dahlia chasing Dudley, who was holding one of her books up in the air.
“Give it back!” Dahlia shouted.
“Make-” Dudley started to say smugly before he carelessly slammed into his mother, who in her shock dropped everything in her hands.
Harry saw the letters fall to the floor, and he instantly saw a familiar seal, and his face heated up in anger.
“I knew it!” Harry shouted as the pieces began to fall into place, and he gave Petunia ab accusatory look. “I knew you were hiding my letters.”
Dahlia looked at the letters, saw what Harry was referring to. She picked it up and turned it over.
“Give it here, Dahlia.” Harry told her. “It’s-”
“Mine,” Dahlia said in quiet shock.
“What?” Harry asked in disbelief as he tried to grab it. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” Dahlia insisted as she showed it to him. “See, it has my name on it.”
Harry’s eyes zeroed in on the envelope’s heading, and, to his shock, he found that she was right.
Dahlia Dursley
Third Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
Soon the letter was snatched out of Dahlia’s hands and remained in Petunia’s terrified clutches.
“Mum, it’s mine,” Dahlia whined.
“Why do you have…” Harry trailed off, his mind spinning.
“Petunia!” Vernon called out as he entered the home. “Petunia, I hope you have- what’s this, then?”
“Vernon, darling.” Petunia whispered almost guiltily, and for the first time in his life, Harry thought Petunia actually looked scared about something concerning her husband.
Dahlia, seemingly picking up on this, said nothing.
Dudley did the opposite.
“Dad, Dahlia’s got a letter from that freak school Harry goes to,” Dudley informed his father.
Harry was under the firm opinion that Dudley had the brains of a jelly filled donut.
“What?” Vernon asked befuddled. “Dudley, you must’ve misunderstood.”
“It’s right there,” Dudley pointed to his stunned mother, and when he sent a nasty look Dahlia’s way, Harry’s opinion changed. Now he believed that Dudley had the brains of a jelly filled donut and the malice of one that had long since spoiled.
Vernon looked at Petunia, and when he saw the letter in her hands, he went very still for a long moment before silently holding out his hand.
“Vernon-” Petunia started.
“Petunia.” Vernon replied in such a firm tone that Harry couldn’t quite remember if he’d ever spoken to his aunt that way. Not that he minded if it did bother Petunia, but Harry always worried about how this would be redirected against him.
Vernon took the letter Petunia surrendered with a sort of wavering calm that went away almost as it appeared. His face began to turn red as his small eyes bore a hole into the letter in his shaking, beefy hand.
“Vernon.” Petunia said soothingly in an attempt to calm her husband, who instantly gripped the letter with both hands and ripped it to pieces.
“Hey!” Dahlia protested. “That’s mine!”
Vernon’s eyes turned to her, and for the very first time in her life, Dahlia was afraid of the way her dad looked at her.
Soon, however, his eyes turned to Harry, who immediately felt a cold feeling of warning in his stomach.
“You…” Vernon drew out. “You did this.”
No one knew who moved first, but soon everyone saw Vernon chasing Harry into the hallway.
“You infected my daughter!” Vernon screamed at Harry as he gave chase. The ripped up pieces of Dahlia’s letter fell to the floor in the chaos, and Dahlia instantly grabbed them up, only for Petunia to rip them away.
Not that Harry knew this at the time, as he had been too focused on escaping Vernon.
“It wasn’t me!” Harry yelled desperately as Vernon gripped his arm so tightly he wondered if he would be able to pull it right off.
“I should’ve never let you into my home!” Vernon shouted, shaking Harry as he did so.
“Daddy, stop!” Dahlia shouted as she, her mother, and her brother scrambled into the hall.
“So Dahlia’s a freak too?” Dudley asked, and not particularly loudly, but it was enough to bring all action to a standstill.
All eyes were pointed at Dahlia, and even Harry managed to squirm his way out of Vernon’s grip, as the man was too busy looking at his youngest child like it was the first time he had seen her.
After a moment Vernon put on a strained smile and told her, “Sweetheart, how about you go to your room while your mum and I sort this out?”
For a moment Harry thought Dahlia would argue, but after realizing that this was not a fight she would win, she stomped up to her room.
To Harry’s immense shock, Dudley and Harry were sent up to their room with little more than a hoarse command from Vernon. Dudley, of course, tried to put up a fight, but Vernon shooed him away, getting hit all the way up the stairs as he put Dudley in his room.
Of course, all three kids managed to sneak back downstairs to listen to Petunia and Vernon argue about what they just learned. It brought back memories of the three of them doing the same thing when the oldest Dursleys argued about Harry’s letter, except this time when Dudley tried to punch Harry in the ribs, Dahlia harshly tugged on his ear, fiercely whispering him to shut up if he didn’t want their parents to hear.
“I’m sorry-” Harry heard Petunia say. “-didn’t know what else to do.”
“-Potter-” Vernon said, but Harry couldn’t quite make out what he was saying as he had seemingly lowered his voice to a whisper.
After a pause, the kids could hear Petunia say, “-weeks-”
Suddenly they heard footsteps, and it was a mad scramble to get back to their rooms before Vernon found them.
Harry remained in his room, trying to keep Hedwig from making too much noise, which finally gave him time to think.
Dahlia was a witch?, he thought. But how? There weren’t any signs...were there?
That was the only explanation, right? Dahlia wouldn’t have gotten a letter otherwise. It had only been two weeks since Harry got back from Hogwarts weeks ago. It was almost his birthday, and not only had he not gotten any letters from his friends, but of all people Dahlia had gotten a letter from Hogwarts. Next thing you know, Dudley would get a letter.
Harry quickly stamped down that horrid idea. It was bad enough he would have to deal with Malfoy when he got back. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if his horrible cousin was there too.
Dahlia laid on her bed that night, staring listlessly at the ceiling of her room, trying to think of a reason why she would get a letter from a witch school.
The obvious reason would be that she was a witch, but that wasn’t possible. She had never done any of the strange things Harry had. If she did, then someone should’ve noticed, right?
Take for example the time Dudley’s hair turned pink. Harry got into loads of trouble for that one. And frankly, Dahlia didn’t disagree with him. After all, it served him right for making fun of Dahlia for wearing pink-
...that didn’t mean anything.
Besides, there was the time that kittens appeared in the kitchen when Dahlia caught sight of one of Mrs. Figg's cats roaming the neighborhood. She had been in her room peering out the window, and she started daydreaming about having her own kitties.
Then, when she went downstairs, she found her frightened mother cowering by the fridge as she stared at a litter of kittens on the counter. Some were orange, some were brown, and then there was one black kitty that she favored. She had eagerly presented the black one to her Dad, thanking him for his present, only to stop when she saw how red his face was getting.
She had demanded for days that Dad and Mum let her keep the kittens, and then the black one if they didn’t let her keep all of them, but they told her that all of them were diseased and needed to go.
She remembered grumbling about how they didn’t look diseased as she stomped up to her room, overhearing her uncle shove Harry into his cupboard for his prank.
Later, Dahlia had asked Harry if he did do it again, if he could get the black kitten back. Of course, Harry denied everything.
She had left in a huff, angry that he lied, but...but now she wasn’t so sure. Especially now that she had remembered that Harry had been at Mrs. Figgs house at the time the kittens appeared.
With an aggravated huff, Dahlia crossed her arms and glared at the ceiling. Dad and Mum refused to answer any questions, and the only upside - Dudley leaving her alone in fear that she’d turn him into a frog - was minute compared to the innumerable questions in her mind.
Why did she get a letter?
Was she a witch?
Was that giant man who came for Harry going to come for her too?
That’s when she sat bolt upright. Harry . Of course. He’d know everything.
Creeping quietly out of her room, Dahlia tiptoed to Harry’s door before giving it a gentle knock.
“Harry.” She whispered. “Harry, you awake?”
Silence.
Her ears strained for any sign that her parents were awake. If she had thought they didn’t want her to play with Harry before, that was nothing compared to the ban they were under now. It was a wonder they didn’t put locks on their bedroom doors.
Dahlia knocked on the door, this time a little louder. “Harry-”
The door suddenly opened, and Dahlia nearly lost her footing as a sleepy Harry stared at her incredulously.
“What are you doing?” Harry whispered fiercely. “If your parents wake up-”
“Then let’s go in,” Dahlia whispered back as she barged into his room.
Harry rolled his eyes before he quietly closed the door.
Harry’s owl had woken up at the sound of knocking, and was now screeching in her cage.
“Shh, shh, Hedwig,” Harry said quietly as he rushed to the bird’s side, and eventually managed to calm her down.
Dahlia meanwhile stared at the bird. Truthfully, she’d never gotten a good enough look before. “He’s lovely.”
“She.” Harry corrected. “What are you doing here?”
Stiffening at the retort, Dahlia stared hard at him. Remembering that time was short, she said. “I want to know why I got a letter.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Harry asked. “You’re a witch.”
“Yes, but why?” Dahlia said, this time with a small whine of frustration. “My parents aren’t magic like yours were.”
“That’s not how it works,” Harry answered as he sat on his bed. “Witches can have Muggle parents-”
“Muggles?” Dahlia interrupted curiously.
“Non-magic people,” Harry said a bit crossly. “Witches and wizards with Muggle parents are called Muggle-borns. One of my best friends is-”
Harry stopped, and his green eyes fell to the floor with a sad expression.
Dahlia pursed her lips, sensing that something must’ve happened with this friend of Harry’s, and unsure if she should press on. Still, she came here for answers, and she couldn’t stall forever.
Going over to sit on the bed next to him, Dahlia asked, “So I’m a Muggle-born?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, staring at the floor for a bit longer before looking at her.
Dahlia eagerly asked, “What’s the school like?”
“It’s grand,” Harry said, at last, a bit of light entered his eyes and a smile on his face. “It’s this giant castle in Scotland, where you learn things like Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and loads of other stuff.” Now Harry stood upright, shifting his position until he was facing her more fully. “There’s also this game called Quidditch, where you fly on brooms over the Quidditch Pitch. I’m the Seeker. Uh, that’s where you try to catch the Golden Snitch, and- Are you listening?”
“Uh, yeah,” Dahlia said, though truthfully her head started to spin as she tried to take note of everything he said, her mind spinning at the effort.
Harry’s expression dimmed, and his shoulders hunched. “I suppose you’ll see it soon enough.”
That’s when an ugly feeling filled Dahlia’s gut, her stomach clenching as a dark thought entered her mind. “You think my parents will let me go?”Harry seemed hesitant to answer her. "I don't know."
It wasn't the answer that Dahlia was looking for. Maybe she could ask her parents tomorrow? Maybe they would let her go?
“Harry Potter is safe there, sir!” Dobby said as he looked at Harry through the bars of the boy’s cage, which read “UNDERAGE WIZARD”.
Dudley rattled the bars of his cage and laughed at him. “Not going to school now-”
Harry.
Vernon sneered, “Can’t do magic now can you?”
Harry.
The cage shook with him.
“Harry!” Someone whispered fiercely as their hands clamped onto his shoulders, shaking him.
Harry’s eyes shot open, and he found Dahlia was the one trying to wake up.
“What?” Harry started as he sat up, grasping wildly at his glasses before putting them on. “What’s-”
That’s when he realized that she was there. In his room. Looking at the door, he found that it was slightly ajar.
“You unlocked my door?” Harry asked her.
“Of course.” Dahlia said. “How else do you think I got in?”
Harry gave her a look. “Maybe you walked through the door. You’re a witch. You could do that now.”
Dahlia then started. “Oh, that’s right. I had questions.” She then held up another letter.
Wait. Another letter?
“It’s from Hogwarts,” Dahlia whispered excitedly him. “It’s true. I am a witch.”
“I gathered that much.” Harry said, and at Dahlia’s look he added, “Well, congratulations, but why are you here?”
“I need to know where to get all of this,” Dahlia said. “I tried thinking of where that giant-”
“You don’t know he’s a giant,” Harry interrupted, though he couldn’t be quite sure himself.
"Fine." Dahlia rolled her eyes before she excitedly opened her letter. “Listen to this: Dear Ms. Dursley, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. ”
Harry then realized something. “Wait, how did you get that letter?”
“Oh, there’s an owl by my window,” Dahlia said plainly. “I didn’t have a pen in my room so I wanted to know if you had one.”
“What? ” Harry hissed before he left his room as quickly and quietly as possible to enter hers, seeing an owl there. It was a barn owl with feathers the color of burnt crust, patiently waiting on the open windowsill.
Dahlia crept up behind him. “I got a pen.” She announced quietly, going over to her desk and writing a reply. Or at least, preparing to write one. “Hold on. What should I say?”
“Say yes, I imagine,” Harry said before a thought occurred to him. “Wait, hold on, don’t send it yet.”
His first instinct was to get a quill and parchment, but upon remembering that his cupboard was still locked, he decided to compromise by grabbing some plain paper and the pen Dahlia had grabbed once she finished writing her acceptance.
“Don’t touch it yet,” Harry told Dahlia when he saw her approach the owl, his hands shaking as he hastily wrote his message on the paper.
Ron,
Dursleys found out I can’t use magic. Won’t let me leave. Get me out of here.
- Harry
Harry then folded up the letter, used tape to seal it, and wrote Ron’s name on the back of the folded letter.
“Take this to Ron Weasley, alright?” Harry told the owl as he tied his and Dahlia’s letters to its leg. “Ron. Weasley. Got it?”
The owl hooted, and soon the two of them watched it fly away.
“What did you write?” Dahlia asked him as she closed her window.
“I wrote to my friend,” Harry answered. “I told him to come and get me.”
Dahlia looked at him. “You think he will?”
“He has to,” Harry said, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure. Even if Dobby didn’t intercept this letter, who knows how long it would be before a reply came.
As it happened, the reply came much sooner than Harry thought, because hardly an hour later, a Flying Ford Anglia floated in front of his bedroom window.
“Ron.” Harry smiled as he approached the window. “You came.”
“Course I did,” Ron said as if it were obvious, leaning out of the back window of the old turquoise car. “Did the Muggles stop your letters? Is that why you haven’t replied all summer? Is it because you got a warning about using magic in front of Muggles?”
“It wasn’t me,” Harry told him. “And how did you know about that?”
“Dad told us,” George said from the front seat next to Fred.
“He works for the Ministry, you see,” Fred added.
Just then, the locks on his door clicked open, and Dahlia burst in. “Harry! There’s a-” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the boys staring at her curiously. “You can see them too, right?”
“No, I missed them,” Harry replied flatly.
“Cute.” She replied shortly before asking, “So who are they?”
Fred started, “We’d like to know-”
“-who you are too.” George finished.
“Ron, Fred, George, this is Dahlia Dursley, my cousin,” Harry answered hurriedly, anxious to get out of here before anyone else woke up. “Dahlia, this is Ron, Fred, and George Weasley.”
“Hang on-” George said.
“-if she’s a Muggle-” Fred continued.
“-we might be in bigger trouble than we thought.” They said together.
“I’m not a...Muggle.” Dahlia said, rolling the still unfamiliar word on her tongue. “I’m Muggle-born.”
Harry saw the red-headed boys open their mouths, but he interrupted with, “I know, you’re all very glad to meet each other, but do you have a way to get me out?”
“Obviously.” Ron grinned. “Why do you think I brought these two with me?”
“And here I thought it was our stunning personalities.” George griped.
“The sheer ingratitude.” Fred concurred. He held up a rope. “We can tie this around the bars-”
“And break it open, ” George (Harry thought) said eagerly rubbing his hands.
The thought of breaking the Dursleys’ property and escaping before they could get to him did sound oddly appealing to Harry.
Dahlia wasn’t having it. “Or we could just leave out of the door I just unlocked.”
...Or they could do that.
Fred rolled his eyes. “Take all the fun of it, why don’t ya?”
George added, “Honestly, Harry, your cousin’s a downer-”
“-A real joy kill.” Fred finished.
Even with the dim lighting, Harry could see Dahlia’s cheeks pinkening.
“The only thing that’s going to be killed is us if my parents wake up,” Dahlia replied snippily.
“Or if Mum realizes we’re gone,” Ron said with a hint of fear on his face.
“What do you suppose we do if they hear us walking down the stairs?” Harry argued.
Dahlia shut her mouth, and for a moment Harry thought that maybe she was agreeing with him.
That was until she decided to open her mouth.
“I’ve an idea,” she told him before she took the belt of her robe out of the loops and disappeared into the hallway.
Curious, Harry followed her out and found that she was tying off the ends of the belt to the bedroom door knobs of her parents’ and Dudley’s rooms, as they conveniently right across the small hall from each other. The robe belt was stretched tightly but she managed to make it work.
Once that was secured, Dahlia turned around and smiled. “Let’s start packing.”
It didn’t take long for them to get changed, and for Harry to take Hedwig’s cage downstairs while Dahlia strapped on a backpack with whatever clothes and such she could stuff in there.
The biggest waste of time was painstakingly walking down the steps with Harry’s trunk, their arms shaking in the effort to not drop it, with at least two close calls on the way down. All the while, Harry worried about how the strength of Dahlia’s robe’s belt would stand against an irate Vernon Dursley.
Harry opened the front door when he remembered something vital.
“Oh no,” he bemoaned.
“What is it?” She asked him as she motioned to the Weasleys who were parked out front.
“My things for Hogwarts,” Harry said as he approached the cupboard. “They’re still locked in. Do you know where your parents put the key?”
Dahlia shook her head, still panting from the effort it took them to take Harry’s trunk down the stairs. “Um...maybe there’s something in the shed? Like a screwdriver or something?”
“What are you two waiting for?” Ron asked as he stuck his head through the open door, eyes curiously roaming around at the house. “So this is a Muggle home.”
“My things are in the cupboard,” Harry said. “My wand, my cauldron, everything, and we don’t know where the keys are.”
“Not to worry, Harry,” George said as he and Fred quietly walked inside. As Ron took Hedwig’s cage to the car, George had produced an ordinary hairpin from his pocket and started to pick the lock.
Dahlia suddenly gasped and quietly ran into the kitchen before Harry could stop her.
“A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick,” Fred told Harry, “but we feel they’re skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow.”
There was a small click and the door swung open.
“There we are,” George announced. “We’ll get your trunk. You and Ron get everything you need.”
“You got it open?” Dahlia asked as she reappeared.
“What were you doing?” Harry asked as he pocketed his wand.
“Writing a note,” Dahlia replied. “Can’t have my parents think I’ve been kidnapped, or-”
“That’s great, but can you please help us?” Ron asked as he grabbed a hold of Harry’s cauldron.
“Yes, alright,” she said as she began to grab at his books, her eyes gazing at them curiously as she followed Ron and Harry to the car to let them into the boot, trying to squeeze in whatever space Harry’s trunk wasn’t taking up.
Fred slammed the boot of the car shut as George started up the car, Harry and Ron climbed in.
Harry saw Dahlia staring at her house regretfully, but there would be time for that later.
“Dahlia, get in,” Harry whispered. “You want to go to Hogwarts don’t you?”
Dahlia looked between him and her house, and after some brief hesitation, Dahlia climbed into the car.
The car drove along the car, and Harry felt her grip his arm tightly as it took off into the air, leaning over to catch one last glimpse of Privet Drive before it faded from view.
The next morning, after the remaining Dursleys of 4 Privet Drive spent quite a while trying to escape their rooms, they found Harry and Dahlia’s rooms empty.
The only true evidence to where they had gone a note on the dining table.
Gone to Hogwarts with Harry.
See you at Christmas.
Please don’t be too mad.
Love,
Dahlia
P.S. Dudley, I’ll know if you touched my things.