Chapter Text
Life was quiet on number four, Privet Drive - rather ordinary and unchanging. Along the halls, there were pictures of a little boy who looked like a pink beach ball sporting different colored bobble hats, a boy riding a tricycle, standing in front of the school on his first day of school, riding a bicycle, and then the same boy a significant size larger, standing in front of the school that he will be attending that fall.
One would not think, however, that there were two other children who lived there, too. They had no pictures, no drawings displayed to encourage artistic skills, no report cards showing off the academic skill that they possessed. Yet, there they were, the siblings Harry and Clara Potter.
*
It was ten years after the Potter siblings were found on the Dursley family porch when Clara woke to the sound of Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice - something that might have sounded better coming from an old cat.
“Are you up yet?” Aunt Petunia demanded.
“Nearly,” Harry answered, sounding like he had woken up not long before Clara did.
“Well, get a move on, Vernon wants you to fetch the morning paper. Wake Clara up, too, she needs to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let her burn it, I want everything to be perfect for little Duddy’s birthday.”
Clara rolled her eyes. Of course, it was Dudley’s birthday. Early rises never meant anything good. She opened her eyes, spotting Harry’s naked feet beside her. She contemplated pinching them, just to make sure Harry didn’t fall back to sleep (and not because it was amusing to hear him screech like a pterodactyl).
“I know you’re up, Clara,” Harry muttered. “Be sure to grab your socks before leaving. Don’t want to leave a trail of dirt behind you.”
“But aren’t the socks dirtier than our feet?”
Harry shrugged. “Their rules, not mine.”
Harry Potter had done his best to fill his duty as Big Brother. He taught Clara how to read when he was old enough to learn himself, took care of her when she was sick - which was quite often - and mended any tears or snags her clothes accumulated through the rough treatment she administered to them. Enforcing the Dursley House Rules was yet another thing that he took on recently, even though he himself thought that the rules were excessive and bordering on useless.
Clara reached above her head to the shelf, gently moving the spiders that made a bed from her socks and grabbing the offending pieces of fabric. It wasn’t cold in the least, and she knew she was going to get hot in them, as they were an old pair of woolen socks that Dudley had outgrown.
Maybe it was because they spent most of their time in their shared cupboard under the stairs, where little light came in and there was little room to move about, but they were small for their age. They were rather thin, too.
Harry looked smaller and skinnier than he was since he was always swamped by the clothes that Dudley outgrew, which was always four sizes too big. He had a thin face with knobbly knees and vibrant green eyes. The color of emeralds, Clara informed him one day, as she spent the time at school learning about the different geodes. His hair never liked to lay flat, and would always go off in different directions, always looking like he had just woken up.
Clara was the lucky one when it came to clothing, being given dresses and aprons that Aunt Petunia snatched from whatever donation shop she happened across. They were more or less her size and the aprons helped keep the clothes on her, instead of looking like an ill-fitted potato sack. Clara looked very similar to her mother if Aunt Petunia was anything to go by. She had the same spatter of freckles, the fiery red hair, the same green eye – although her other eye was the soft amber color of her father.
And she hated it.
She hated looking so much like her mother since it always seemed to be the root cause of much of Clara's punishments. If she looked more like her father - more like Harry - then she was sure that her aunt would see right over her, much like she did with Harry. But alas, it couldn’t be. Like her mother, Clara remained.
Clara was frying eggs by the time Dudley came down the stairs, stomping like an elephant.
Dudley took after his father in more ways than one. He had the same blond hair, mostly chin and little neck, with the same pinkness that liked to make itself known even on days when Uncle Vernon wasn’t in a foul mood. Aunt Petunia would sing Dudley’s praises and made more than one comment about him being a little angel, while Harry and Clara disagreed. It was a running joke between the siblings that Dudley was actually a pig with a blond wig.
Dudley started to count the presents that lay in a pile beside the table, and Clara thought it might be a good idea to plate breakfast. Best for Dudley to have easy access to food should things not go his way, and it might prevent him from overturning the table.
Not that it’s worked in the past, but there’s always hope.
Harry took his with a ‘thank you’ and quickly scarfed down his food, Clara following soon after.
“Thirty-six,” Dudley said, his mouth turned to a frown as he looked at his parents. “That’s two less than last year.”
“You didn’t count the present from your Aunt Marge, dear. It’s under the big one from Mummy and Daddy,” Aunt Petunia cooed, in an attempt to avoid what was sure to happen. Clara resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Thirty-seven, then.” Dudley clenched his fists, his face quickly turning red.
Aunt Petunia seemed to realize her attempt was for naught because she quickly followed with “We’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today, how does that sound? Two more presents. Is that alright, Popkin?”
Dudley thought for a moment, turning the gears in his head that were surely rusty by how little he used them. “So I’ll have thirty..thirty..”
“Thirty-nine, dear.”
“Oh,” Dudley sat down, momentarily content as he grabbed the closest gift. “Alright then.”
Uncle Vernon chuckled from his seat, folding the newspaper he was reading. “Little tyke want’s his money’s worth, just like his father.” he reached over and ruffled Dudley’s hair. “Atta boy.”
Right then, the telephone started ringing and Aunt Petunia left to answer it while Harry, Clara, and Uncle Vernon were left to watch Dudley open his gifts. Clara paled as she saw what he had received - a racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen different videogames, and a video recorder. Clara was trying to figure out why Dudley would possibly want a video recorder when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both upset and worried.
“Bad news, Vernon,” she started, “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take them.” She jerked her head in Harry and Clara’s direction.
Dudley’s mouth dropped in horror, while Clara felt a little excitement grow in her. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day to adventure parks, hamburger bars, or the theatre. Every year, Harry and Clara were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a nutter of an old lady who lived two streets away. Clara loathed being there - it was so incredibly boring and the rooms always smelled like poorly cooked cabbage. Mrs. Figg also made Harry and Clara look at every picture of every cat Mrs. Figg owned.
“Now, what?” Asked Aunt Petunia, looking at Harry and Clara as if they were the ones behind the unfortunate breaking of the limb.
“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon offered, making Clara’s nose wrinkle in disgust.
“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates them.”
“What about what’s-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?”
“On holiday in Majorca,” Aunt Petunia snapped.
“You could just leave us here,” Harry offered, sounding a little hopeful. Clara bet he was hoping to watch as much television as he wanted, and it being something that he would like for a change.
Clara just wanted a nap.
Aunt Petunia looked like she swallowed an onion. “And come back to find this house in ruins?”
“We won’t blow up the house,” Harry promised, though it looked like he might as well have held his breath.
“We could take them to the zoo,” Aunt Petunia said slowly, “and leave them in the car.”
“That car’s new, they aren’t sitting in it alone.”
Dudley began to cry loudly. Well, not proper tears - he hadn’t done that in years - but he knew that if he screwed up his red face just right, and begin to wail a little, Aunt Petunia would give him whatever he wanted at that moment.
“Oh, don’t cry Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry! Mummy won’t let them spoil your special day!” she cried, wrapping her lanky arms around him.
“I don’t want them to come!” He yelled between bouts of over-exaggerated sobs. “They always sp-spoil everything!”
Clara actually rolled her eyes when Dudley shot them a nasty smile through the gaps of Aunt Petunia’s arms, and she counted herself lucky when he didn’t see it.
Just then, the doorbell rang, and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend Piers Polkiss walked in with his mother. Piers was usually the one who held people’s arms back while Dudley hit them. Dudley quit crying immediately.
Half an hour later, Harry and Clara, who couldn’t believe their luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley on the way to the zoo for the first time of their life. Their aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything to do with them, but before they left, Harry pulled her aside.
“Uncle Vernon doesn’t want us to do any ‘funny business’, or else we’ll be in the cupboard until Christmas.” He said.
“But we won’t do anything,” Clara countered.
Though she did think briefly to the oddities that she and Harry were able to do but never had control over. It once happened that Harry grew back a whole head of hair overnight after Aunt Petunia cut it all off, save the lock of hair that hid Harry’s scar. Neither he nor Clara mentioned it again, but it did cause some rather boisterous outbursts from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Later that evening Clara overheard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia say that Harry was a spitting image of their father, save for the eyes, as they were the same wretched color as their mother, and they were worried that some of their father’s taste for practical jokes and undignified responses (which Clara assumed was their term for sarcastic remarks) would develop into Harry.
Clara, on the other hand, had been able to see little creatures that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hadn’t been able to see- or simply didn’t notice. She thought that the creatures were quite funny, too. The little mole-like creatures she met would give her little trinkets of gold out of there pouch after she made flowers dance for them. She kept the trinkets in a small box that was safely hidden in one of her woolen socks that had previously been Uncle Vernon’s and she was able to use as a sort of mittens.
“I know,” Harry shrugged. “But he didn’t believe me. Just keep quiet and stay close to them, I suppose. It’s the only sure way that we don’t get in trouble.”
Clara nodded as she slid into the car, wringing the fabric of her apron in her hands.
*
The zoo was quite crowded by the time they got there. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance, then ended up getting Harry and Clara one lemon ice lolly to share, as they hadn’t left in time for her to not ask them what they wanted. Clara quite liked it, though she thought it was only fair for most of it to go to Harry, as it was technically his.
Dudley and Piers started getting board with the animals around lunchtime, and Uncle Vernon declared that it was time for them to eat. They ate at the zoo restaurant, Harry and Clara getting the rest of Dudley’s ice cream sundae when he threw a tantrum because it wasn’t big enough, and demanded that he get another.
Afterward, they went to the Reptile House. It was dark there, kept at a cool temperature, and had lit windows all along the walls. Behind each glass were all sorts of lizards and snakes crawling or slithering across wood chips and stone. One frog was found resting in its’ small pond of water. Clara saw Dudley make a beeline for what had to be the largest snake she had seen in her life - it looked like it could easily wrap itself around Uncle Vernon’s car twice, with some room to spare. By the time she got up there, Dudley and Uncle Vernon had already left, leaving Harry alone to look at the poor animal who, somehow, winked at Harry.
Clara’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, and she walked closer to Harry.
“I know,” she heard Harry say. “It must be really annoying,”
The snake nodded again.
“You can understand him?” Clara asked, pressing a hand against the glass.
“I can understand anyone, it’s the people who don’t listen.” The snake seemed to say, flicking its’ tongue out.
“I’m sorry,” Clara mumbled.
“Where are you from, anyway?” Harry asked.
The snake jabbed its’ tail to a little sign that read Boa Constrictor, Brazil .
“Was it nice there?”
The boa jabbed its’ tail again, and farther down, the sign read Specimen bred in captivity.
“Oh, I see.”
“You’ve never been to Brazil?” Clara asked.
Just as the boa was shaking its’ head, a loud voice screeched behind them, causing the three to jump.
“Dudley! Mr. Dursely! Come back to the snake! You won’t believe that it’s doing!”
Dudley turned at the order and started waddling towards them as fast as his legs could take him, punching Harry in the stomach to move him out of the way. Harry fell over from the force of it, knocking Clara over in the process. By the time Clara opened her eyes after hitting her head against the concrete floor of the Reptile House, the snake had slithered out of its’ confinement and gave Harry and Clara one last wink, and let out a hiss that sounded suspiciously like “Brazil, here I come. Thanksss, amigosss,”
The building was in complete chaos, with people screaming, Dudley and Piers screaming while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon tried to calm them down, and a zookeeper stood frightfully still, appearing to be in complete shock.
“But the glass,” he repeated. “The glass is just gone,”
The head of the Zoo personally saw to it that Aunt Petunia got a strong cup of sweet tea while he apologized repeatedly. Dudley and Piers kept repeating the story, each retelling more extravagant than the last. By the time they got to Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley claimed that the snake had nearly bitten his leg off and Piers said that it nearly squeezed them to death. It was all fine, until Piers looked at both Harry and Clara, asking them if they were indeed talking to the snake.
Uncle Vernon’s face grew into an impressive shade of purple, but he had enough sense to wait until Piers left before he acted upon his anger.
“Go - cupboard - stay - no meals,” was all he could get out in his fury before he collapsed in his chair with a force that made the furniture groan in protest, and Aunt Petunia ran to get him a large brandy.
*
Several hours later - and well after dark - the Potter siblings lay awake, waiting to be sure that the Dursleys were indeed asleep before they could sneak out to get food. Clara had her ear pressed to the wall closest to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s bedroom, trying to hear for any sign that they were awake. When the television in their bedroom turned off, and all she could hear were the skittering of mice in the walls, she reached for the bent wire hanger that was stored under the mattress. She would have to stuff it in the outdoor garbage bin in order for Aunt Petunia to not see it and punish them for sneaking out, but that was a thought for a later time that night. Shuffling over to the door, she fished it through the space between the bars in the door and slid open the lock.