Chapter Text
"A…. girl?” Mrs. Dursley, a thin woman with strawberry blonde hair, peeked past her large, beefy husband to stare at the basket left on the doorstep of No. 4 Privet Drive. Her hair was up in rollers. Petunia self-consciously touched them, glancing around their neighborhood to make sure no one was up and about to see her and her husband in their pajamas. Mr. Dursley held a letter in his hand and groaned.
“These freaks can’t even keep track of their own spawn,” huffed Mr. Dursley tersely. Petunia had already slid past him and bent down to the basket, touching the cheek of the little baby placed on her doorstep.
“Oh Vernon, it’s a little girl,” she cooed, reaching forward to scoop up the toddler. “What is her name?”
Vernon’s eyes slid over the letter in front of him and widened at the contents of the letter. He crumpled it in his hand and shoved it in the pocket of his dressing robe. “Hattie.”
“Hattie…” Petunia cooed, rubbing her cheek against the girl’s head of dark brown curls.
“We have to return her to her kind,” Vernon said coldly, but his wife turned to him aghast.
“Return?” She demanded. “Vernon, Dudley could have a sister!”
Vernon was silent as he stepped back into the house, Petunia following closely behind.
“My sister and her husband may have been freaks, but my parents were normal – it was just a fluke that they had Li-… her. Hattie could be perfectly normal.” Petunia hadn’t talked back to Vernon like this in years, since they first started dating. Vernon stopped stomping to look at her, his dark eyes scanning down from her determined face to the child’s. The toddler’s bright green eyes were looking up at him, but that head of dark curls reminded him of pictures of his sister when she was younger, himself when he was a baby.
“She could be our own!” Petunia argued when she saw Vernon soften slightly. The man looked up at his wife and let out a sigh.
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“Push harder, Dudley!” Hattie giggled as she soared higher into the air, Dudley pushing the swing behind her. He was laughing too, occasionally waddling under the swing after he pushed and taking dives to the ground to avoid her oncoming legs.
“My turn, my turn!” Dudley chanted, stopping his pushing to stomp around waiting for Hattie to get off to propel him.
“No, no! I haven’t reached the top, keep going!!” the little girl shouted, the wind swishing her wild locks every which way. The crisp May air made her nose red with the cool breeze of the swing. But Dudley didn’t move, his hands balled into fists and he started shrieking. From the bench, Hattie felt her Aunt Petunia’s blue eyes catch Hattie’s green ones disapprovingly.
“Hattie, let Duddles have a turn,” Petunia shouted lacklusterly from the bench a few yards away. From the air, Hattie sighed and stopped pumping her legs to let her trainers skid across the ground every time she passed it. A few moments later she was stopped.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” she whined as Dudley practically ripped the swing from her hands. Soon the little girl, no more than 35 pounds at 5 years old, was trying to push the swing for a 55 pound little boy, clearly struggling.
“That’s your niece? I saw your husband dropping you off earlier, I could have sworn she could be your daughter” chimed a voice from the bench next to Petunia. Petunia lowered her newspaper and glanced at the young mother juggling two toddlers and an infant.
“Oh, Hattie?” Petunia gave a lazy glance at her niece then threw a bright smile at the woman next to her. “Yes, her parents were…drug addicts. When it came to living in such an environment, my husband and I knew we had to get her out of there. We’ve raised her as our own since she was a baby.”
“Oh!” the woman pressed a hand to her chest. “Saints! You two must be saints! That must have been so hard!”
Petunia lowered her lashes and gave an abashed shrug. “You do what you have to for those you love.”
“Aw, you are right!” The young mother smiled at Petunia, admiring her before lowering her voice into a gossipy whisper. “What ever happened to her parents? Are they still out there?”
“Oh yes, they might be. Since we took Hattie in, we haven’t heard hide nor tail from them. Like they never wanted her in the first place.”
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Later that year, Hattie and Dudley sat surrounded by a pile of presents with Vernon and Petunia beaming down at them. Boxes upon boxes sat yet unopened, covered in pink and blue wrapping paper decorated in snowflakes or various Christmas themed cartoons. There were fewer pink boxes than blue, but Hattie didn’t mind.
“Daddy had a good year this year, didn’t he Duddles,” Petunia fussed, patting her son’s head. Vernon beamed across from her, snapping a picture of Petunia, Dudley, and Hattie, all smiling to the camera.
“Grunnings had a great year!” Vernon explained. Grunnings was the drill-making company where Vernon Dursley worked as a Director while Petunia was home taking care of Hattie and Dudley. The camera Vernon was using was a payoff from the great year Grunnings had.
Dudley grabbed for a box and started to rip at the paper, but Hattie gently swatted his hand, “Dudley! No! No! Uncle Vernon has to take the picture first!”
“Mind your tone, missy,” Vernon chided, wagging a finger at Hattie before chortling, “but still – clever girl, always listening to Uncle Vernon.” Vernon grinned down at the little girl that looked oh so much like him. Hattie flashed a winning smile, the one that made all the teachers at school love her and the one that made the other little girls flock to her side. “Everyone, gather around the tree!”
Vernon set the timer on the new camera and rushed over to where Hattie, Dudley, and Petunia were smushed in front of the tree they had decorated days prior. Vernon swooped over and scooped Hattie off the floor, took the seat on the armchair next to Petunia, and plopped Hattie on his knee, as the flash on the camera went off.
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“Aunt Petunia, Dudley put my book on the shelf again!” Hattie called from the drawing room. She was standing on her tippy toes reaching for a book on the top shelf of the bookcase. Dudley had grabbed her schoolwork from her and put it there. Can’t get better marks than me this year if you can’t reach the books! he had claimed after Hattie tried to teach him how to do a math problem they were working on together. Dudley was about a foot taller than Hattie and had easily gotten her math textbook onto the shelf before she could stop him.
“Not now, darling, I’m helping Duddles with his homework!” Petunia called from the other room. Hattie could hear Dudley whining over wanting to go over to Piers’ house instead of working on math, and heard Petunia promising to take him if he just got to the end of the page. Hattie rolled her eyes and stopped stretching.
Glancing around the room, she tried to decide how best to grab the book. There was the ottoman, but it was heavy and she knew Uncle Vernon hated to have to readjust it. She could go into the kitchen for a dining chair, but then Petunia might get angry for interrupting Dudley’s lesson. She could try to jump, but next to the textbook was a row of picture frames featuring the family and she would be beside herself if she broke any of them. One had Hattie sitting on Vernon’s lap at Christmas, taken two Christmases ago. Another was of Dudley and Hattie on their first day of school. Another was of the whole family at one of Uncle Vernon’s work parties; Hattie in a dress and Dudley in a matching suit. No, none of these options would work.
Hattie sat down and twisted a portion of her bangs. The bangs covered the one thing about her that she hated – so it worked out anyways. The nasty scar she got when her mother dropped her on the floor as a baby. The scar was smack in the middle of her forehead and shaped like a lightening bolt – the result of a fall that must have been bad enough for a hospital visit but her mother never took her. Probably too busy with drugs.
Petunia had told her about her parents last year when Hattie overheard Vernon telling someone at his Holiday party. Ever since, Hattie had clung to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon even more – if her parents didn’t even want her, she had to make sure they did.
The girl twisted her hair. Hattie’s fingers grazed the scar, as the back patio door swung open and Dudley shouted an excited, I’ll be home for supper! Hattie jumped up, excited that Petunia could assist her now, when she heard Petunia give a light gasp. Hattie whipped her head around to see Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on her face. The woman began to wring her bony fingers together and threw a look of concern towards Hattie. Petunia bit her lip before a shadow crossed her face, sternness replacing the concern.
“It doesn’t look like you need my help after all,” she said tersely and stormed out of the drawing room and back into the kitchen. Hattie frowned, her dark eyebrows knitting together and glanced around the room. There, on the ottoman, sat her math textbook.
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That year, Christmas rolled around and Hattie and Dudley were inspecting their presents as they did every Christmas Eve. “What do you think they got me?”
“I bet they got you a Nintendo!” Hattie exclaimed, pointing at a box along the edge of the tree. “Will you let me play with you and Piers?”
Dudley rushed over to the present and fell to his knees, landing with a thud. He had grown more rotund over the last few years, the largest boy in their class by far. Hattie remained the runtiest kid in the class. Her cousin didn’t even answer before he poked a finger along the edge of the paper.
“Dudley, stop!” Hattie hissed, running to his side and putting a hand over his. “Aunt Petunia will know you looked!”
“So,” he shrugged. “I’m really good at checking these!”
Famous last words. Moments later, Dudley had torn the paper in half, revealing the Nintendo Hattie had guessed was the gift. Both children’s eyes widened – hers in fear of her aunt and uncle finding out they peeked at their presents, and his in awe of his present. Hattie lurched forward, awkwardly pressing the paper together. Without words, without a sound, though, at the wrapping paper began to fuse together again, closing the gaping wound Dudley had torn into it. They both gasped.
“How’d you do that?” Dudley said, now awed by his cousin. His eyes glittered at the show of magic, wondering how his cousin did that. Hattie looked shocked, holding the present in her hands, which were shaking.
“What? I didn’t do that!” Hattie exclaimed, taking her hands off the present and scooting back.
“Yes, you did!”
“No!”
“Yes, you did and I’m telling mum!” Dudley scrambled to his feet, towering over the seated Hattie, smirking. He started to dash to the stairs before Hattie caught up to him and stopped him.
“If you tell her, then she’ll know you looked!”
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“Duddles, you need to calm down,” Petunia shushed her son at the dinner table.
“I wanted the award though!”
Hattie sheepishly glanced down at her hands. At the end of the year ceremony, she was awarded the Best of the Class award for her grades and attitude towards others. Other students received smaller awards, but Dudley got nothing. It made for a loud, tear-filled car ride home. No one had yet congratulated Hattie except for a family photo with her teacher after the ceremony. Petunia had made Vernon stop at Dudley’s favorite sweet shop on the way through town to the house and the three left Hattie in the car to run in for just a moment that turned into half an hour. They brought Hattie out a box of candy cigarettes, which Hattie hated.
Back at the house, it had been just as tumultuous. Hattie had to help Petunia with dinner just like every night, while Vernon tried to talk Dudley down with phrases like “have to coddle the girls,” and “boys will always be smarter.” By the time dinner rolled around, though, seeing Hattie made Dudley angrier and more shouty.
“I never even wanted a sister!”
“Well, I never wanted a brother!” Hattie shouted back, finally losing her temper. Petunia gasped, and Vernon turned a vicious glare towards Hattie but before anyone could respond, there was a sharp cracking sound. Around them, the glasses on the table, filled with milk and lemonades, shattered, sending the liquid inside spilling onto the table. Over at the kitchen, the glass cooking dish holding the chicken for dinner shattered and the chicken fell to the floor. There were rattling noises and then sounds of tiny explosions coming from the cupboards where the glassware sat.
“She’s one of them, Petunia!” Vernon shouted, roughly grabbing Hattie’s arm and yanking her away from the table. The girl was jostled but unharmed as he removed her from the dining room. “Just like your sister!”
Hattie went to bed without dinner that night.
The rest of the summer passed with very little interaction between Hattie and the Dursleys. They avoided her as much as they could, Dudley whispering mean things to her when they would sit next to each other at the kitchen table.
As her birthday rolled around, nothing got better. Every year that she could remember, her birthday would roll around and Hattie would wake up to the smells of Aunt Petunia cooking fresh waffles, Hattie’s favorite food. She would bound down the stairs to find the meal ready with fresh-squeezed orange juice on the side and a small pile of presents in the center of the table. This morning, though, she woke up to the smell of bacon – Vernon and Dudley’s favorite food.
“Hurry down, Hattie!” Petunia called from below. Thinking that they were done being angry at her, Hattie jumped up, grabbed her dressing robe and threw it on. She leapt down the stairs and with a big grin on her face, slid into the kitchen where Petunia stood at the table Vernon and Dudley sat at eating their bacon. They all looked at her like she had two heads. On the table was a glass of milk and a plate of cold bacon and toast. No waffles in sight, no orange juice, and no presents. Petunia was cleaning up the table.
“You’re just in time. Finish eating and then help me clean up.”
Hattie sat down at the table and frowned around at all three of them.
“Did you… forget… it’s my birthday?” She said to no one in particular. Hope stung the back of her throat – perhaps they were doing something special, liking her to the park to see her friends, or to the zoo, or some other adventure like they occasionally did with Dudley.
Vernon glanced up from his newspaper, eyes unbothered, before fluffing it and snapping it back in place in front of his face. “No. We didn’t forget.”