Chapter Text
“Sorry, girl,” Hattie whispered, locking Hedwig’s cage with a mournful look. The owl looked just as dejected. Hattie slipped in a carrot she had snuck from the roast cooking in the kitchen. “I warned you not to get too used to the freedom.”
Ever since she had returned from Hogwarts, Hedwig was her only link to the magical world. Everything else – her wand, her uniform, her textbooks, her homework – had been locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. Hattie could swear she could almost hear it humming to her as she passed the locked door every day. At least her aunt and uncle had let her keep Hedwig in her room. Aunt Petunia even let her release the bird whenever both Dudley and Vernon were out of the house and Hattie snuck Hedwig out every few nights to really spread her wings.
Otherwise, summer at No. 4 Privet Drive had been quiet for far. Vernon refused to speak to her, Dudley was too scared to speak to her, and Petunia just didn’t seem to want to – her olive branch warnings of “they’re parking now” seemed to suffice. Hattie was allowed out of her bedroom only at meal times and to help Petunia clean and cook. Occasionally, they would take day trips into London and would leave Hattie with Mrs. Figg, their elderly neighbor, and that was always a nice reprieve.
“Girl,” Vernon shouted as a form of get down for lunch or don’t eat at all.
Hattie threw a smile at her owl and trotted down to the kitchen. If she was too late, Dudley would eat all the food. Today, she and Petunia made tuna salad sandwiches for lunch. Dudley was already through his first sandwich when Hattie sat down at the table. Her cousin threw her a distasteful glance before smirking. He glanced towards his parents, who were chatting a little way away in the kitchen – inspecting the roast Petunia had started that morning.
“I know it’s your birthday today,” Dudley mumbled. His leer grew. “The post has gone by and no one has sent you anything. No one even bothered to remember.”
Hattie’s heart ached. Dudley wasn’t wrong – she hadn’t heard anything from Hermione or any of her friends from Hogwarts. She would even have been happy to get ‘Dear Potter, hope you’re having a miserable summer’ letter from Draco Malfoy, her school bully. At least that meant someone was thinking of her. If Dudley noticed her pain, it would have only made him happier. Instead, he swiftly moved on, not even giving her a chance to retort.
“Now hand me the crisps,” he said, reaching out his giant stubby hand. The bag of chips sat next to Hattie and she glanced down at them. It was her turn to smirk.
“What’s the magic word?”
Dudley’s jaw dropped and he stuttered. Unfortunately for Hattie, the moment she uttered the word ‘magic’ was when Vernon had turned back to the table, ready to eat his share.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” He bellowed, crossing to the table in two steps. “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO MY SON, YOU FREAK?”
Hattie lowered her head and her eyes widened. Vernon had yelled at her before, but never like that. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Don’t you DARE ever speak to my son like that AGAIN,” Vernon commanded, wagging a sausage finger in her face. Petunia hurried over and put her delicate hand over her husband’s.
“Darling, your blood pressure. You know what the doctor said,” she soothed him, leading him to his chair at the end of the table. He was still glaring at Hattie. Petunia didn’t even dare look at her niece. Dudley was over his initial fear at the ‘m’ word and was snickering at Hattie.
Vernon stiffened in his chair and straightened his tie before snatching a sandwich. “You’re right, Petunia. There are more important things to think about today anyways.”
The dinner party. Hattie couldn’t help but roll her eyes, not that anyone was paying her any attention any more. Vernon and Petunia had been planning it for weeks. She was pretty sure it was a cruel joke that it landed on her birthday – but at least she could pretend the fancy dinner was for her.
“If I get this order, our summer will be made – we can go on Holiday to Spain before Dudley’s term starts.” By we, Hattie knew he meant only the Dursleys. Hattie would get to spend a quiet week helping Mrs. Figg with her cats. “Let’s run the schedule one more time. The Masons will be here at eight o’clock sharp. I will answer the door. Petunia?”
“I’ll be waiting in the lounge to greet them.”
“Perfect. Dudley?”
“I’ll be right beside you, ready to take their coats!”
“Correct.” Vernon finally looked at Hattie, who was grimacing.
“I’ll be in the kitchen with the appetizers, ready to serve them in the lounge.”
“Exactly.”
Hattie didn’t know how it served them to have her included. She was gone for ten of the twelve months of the year and she couldn’t imagine Vernon would talk about her at work or have pictures of her. She thought that once the ruse of her drug-addict parents and them rescuing her from them had been discovered, they would just pretend she didn’t exist. Granted, most of Vernon’s co-workers knew about Hattie – she had been raised with love and affection by the Dursleys until she was 9, when a magical mishap had exploded all the glassware in the kitchen. It had probably been too late to explain her away.
“Now, girl, go set up the extra portraits in the lounge and get it cleaned.”
Hattie took the last bite of her sandwich and nodded. She had to get the “company” portraits out. The pictures of the Dursleys with Hattie: from Christmas several years ago, and when they took her on Holiday to Ireland once, and the obligatory family photo they had done at the start of every summer (Hattie was always included in one of them for this exact purpose.)
When she was finished cleaning the lounge (and the kitchen and the dining room), Petunia appeared in the doorway. She had a garment bag draped over her arms. Hattie glanced at the bag and saw the logo of Petunia’s favorite dress shop on it. “Here, go get changed. We have about an hour.”
Hattie took the outstretched garment bag, surprised she received a new outfit for this. She had expected Petunia to just take one of her old dresses and modify it for Hattie. Expecting the worst, Hattie took the dress up to her bedroom and changed.
When she looked in the mirror later, she bit her lip in pride. The dress was a deep emerald green that hit her just below her bony knees. The color matched her bright green eyes perfectly. There was even a little ribbon included with the dress for Hattie to tie into her hair. She used it to fashion her dark chocolate brown waves back from her face. Since Petunia had been so kind, Hattie extended a kindness to her aunt and uncle and made sure her growing bangs covered her lightning bolt shaped scar.
7:50 rolled around and Petunia called her downstairs. Hattie finished cinching up her sparkling black Mary Janes and dashed down the stairs. Petunia’s lips thinned into a grimace. “You look so much like your mother.”
Hattie blushed. She didn’t know if that was a compliment or a dagger.
“Places, everyone!” Vernon shouted, bustling in from the kitchen. Her aunt tore her gaze from Hattie and moved into the lounge. Vernon and Dudley took their places at the door and Hattie moved to the kitchen to ready the appetizers she would bring out with a dazzling smile three minutes after the Masons’ arrival. She pushed through the swinging kitchen doors and stopped dead.
There was a… large, humanoid rat standing on the kitchen table. No, not a rat. Hattie vaguely remembered seeing a creature like this at Hogwarts. A house elf. The house elf straightened their outfit (which was just what appeared to be the sack that potatoes came in?) and turned to inspect himself in the reflection of the back patio door. When the elf saw Hattie in the reflection it jumped, made a startled sound, and skittered over to her, grabbing her hand.
“Hattie Potter!” It exclaimed, kissing Hattie’s hand and shaking it viciously. Hattie glanced nervously towards the kitchen door. Not even a hallway away, the Dursleys stood awaiting their guests.
“Yes, Hattie Potter. That’s me,” she said as she gently walked it to the furthest corner of the kitchen. “Now…who are you?”
“Oh, Dobby, just Dobby, ma’am,” the house elf said simply.
“Well, Dobby,” Hattie said quickly as she moved the deviled eggs from the container they had been in in the refrigerator onto the fancy porcelain plate. “I would love to continue this chat, but now’s not a great time. We can reschedule until tomorrow morning?”
Dobby’s great big eyes stared up at her, his lips trembling. From the front door, Hattie could hear Vernon and Dudley loudly greeting the Masons. She had three minutes to get this platter out to them.
“But…But ma’am, Dobby has some grave news.” As Dobby spoke, his shrill voice grew louder and louder and Petunia’s loud laugh reminded Hattie of the company. She grabbed one of the devilled eggs and shoved it into Dobby’s mouth.
“Here, eat this, I’ll be right back.” She went to grab the tray to leave, not caring if she was a few minutes early to bring the dish out. She just had to get away from Dobby – she couldn’t ruin Vernon’s night. There would surely be hell to pay if she did. She had barely taken a step when Dobby burst into tears and spit the food onto the floor. Hattie’s jaw dropped and she set the serving tray down and lowered herself to Dobby’s eye level, like she saw parents do with their young kids at the park. “Goodness, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean.”
“Hattie Potter tried to feed me,” the creature wailed.
“Shhhhhhh!” Hattie clapped her hand over Dobby’s mouth. “Shhhh and I promise I’ll be right back!”
She grabbed the tray and left, hitting her three-minute mark. She entered the lounge with a great big smile plastered to her face. The Masons turned to her and Petunia made brief introductions, “Mr. and Mrs. Mason, this is our niece, Hattie. She’s lived with us since her parents disappeared.” Petunia lowered her voice. “Drug addicts, you know.”
Hattie kept smiling though it was faltering. She knew her parents weren’t drug addicts. But there was no use in correcting anyone. She let the Masons fawn over her and Petunia’s story for a moment before gasping. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I think I left the refrigerator open!”
She was gone in a flash. She could feel Vernon’s glare on her back. She was supposed to stay for seven minutes before disappearing with Petunia to set the dining room table. That meant she had seven more minutes to get rid of Dobby. When she came into the kitchen, he was shoving his head in the oven.
“Blimey!” she hissed, yanking him back. They both fell to the floor in a tumble. “Bloody hell, Dobby. Stop!”
Dobby stared at her with those big eyes and froze.
“Why were you doing that?”
“Dobby had to punish himself, ma’am. Dobby shouldn’t be here right now.”
“Why would you need to punish yourself, Dobby?”
“Dobby’s family would be furious to know I’m here right now. Dobby’s family would require punishment.”
“What? That’s awful. How are you here then? Why can’t you just escape?”
“Escape?” what almost sounded like a scoff came from Dobby. “House-elves can’t escape, ma’am. They can only be set free.”
“Can anyone set you free? Can Dumbledore? Can I?” Dobby’s lip quivered and he burst into tears. Hattie clapped her hand over his mouth again. “Stop, stop. Please stop!”
“Oh ma’am, Dobby had heard you a great witch, but this is too much!” Dobby’s wails simmered into sniffles. “Dobby hear you were third in your year and had great feats in Quidditch and are very kind and brave and…” Dobby’s voice lowered. “That you defeated the Dark Lord once more.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call it defeated as much as I would, I passed out and didn’t die…”
“So humble!” Dobby said in awe, the quiver in his lips alerting Hattie that he was about to cry again. She shushed him gently, like she had seen Petunia do with Dudley when they were younger. Suddenly, the house-elf was serious, eyes impossibly wide. “Dobby has heard things, ma’am. Things Dobby’s masters have been whispering. Terrible things are coming to Hogwarts. Dobby had to warn Hattie Potter. Hattie Potter must not return to Hogwarts.”
Hattie reclined her head and pushed herself away from Dobby. Hermione might not have written her this year, and she might not have heard from anyone else all summer, but that didn’t mean that she shouldn’t go back. No friends at Hogwarts was better than the Dursleys, even with Petunia being a bit nicer.
“I have to go back,” Hattie said quietly, glancing at the door of the kitchen, expecting Petunia any minute. “I can’t stay here!”
“Hattie Potter mustn’t return!” Dobby repeated, standing. Hattie scrambled to her own feet. “There is a plot in motion. Terrible things will happen at Hogwarts and Hattie Potter cannot be put in danger!”
“Terrible things?” Hattie asked wildly. Hermione was guaranteed to be there during these terrible things. Neville. Ron, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati. Hattie would even be horrified if something happened to Malfoy. “Who is your family? Is this about Voldemort?”
Dobby froze at the name. “Dobby has said too much.” He scrambled to the oven, which was turned off, and started shoving his head in it again. Hattie heard Petunia’s heels clicking on the floor and she dashed across the room, shoved Dobby all the way into the oven and slammed the oven door just as her aunt burst in, eyes wide.
“What is the commotion in here?” She demanded, heading straight for the silverware. Hattie shrugged and then noticed the half-eaten devil’s egg on the floor. Petunia noticed it at the same time. “What’s that?”
“Sorry,” Hattie mumbled. “I dropped it before I brought out the platter.”
“Clean it up.” Petunia demanded. “And then come to the dining room and help me.”
Petunia disappeared through the doors again and Hattie rushed to open the oven door. The house-elf sniffled before turning gleaming eyes up at Hattie. “I’m sorry, Dobby. About the oven. And I’m sorry, but I’m going back to Hogwarts. I have friends there – I think – and I can’t-”
“Friends that don’t even write Hattie Potter,” Dobby scoffed.
“Well, summer is busy and-” Hattie turned stormy eyes on Dobby. “How’d you know they’re not writing me? Have you got my letters?”
Dobby reached into his potato sack and produced a thick stack of letters. Hattie recognized Hermione’s delicate script, Neville’s uneven scrawl, and even something that looked like it could be from Hagrid and Ron. “Give me those!”
Hattie leaped forward, trying to grab the stack from Dobby, who snapped his fingers and disappeared. She looked madly around for him, so madly that her new ribbon untied and fell to the floor. She saw him by the patio door and dashed for him, skidding around the counter.
“Hattie Potter can have her letters if she promises not to return to Hogwarts.”
“No!” Hattie lunged for them again and he disappeared once more. Hattie’s face flushed with anger and the effort of chasing this creature around the kitchen. Her eyes locked on him when he appeared across the kitchen, on the counter behind the roast. She heard Petunia calling to the others that they could be seated. Dobby snapped his fingers and suddenly the roast was in midair, levitating.
Hattie hesitated, eyes wide. “Please. No.”
“Promise Dobby, Hattie Potter shall not return to Hogwarts.”
“I can’t do that,” she pleaded.
“Then Dobby has no other choice.”
Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared once more. The stack of letters with him. The roast crashed to the floor. Petunia burst in from the door to the dining room and Vernon, Dudley, and the Masons rushed in from the door to the Hallway. All gasped when they saw dinner on the floor. Hattie’s mouth was open dumbly and she struggled to find words.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Mason said, kindly, taking a step forward. She went to go comfort Hattie when a great big brown barn owl swooped into the kitchen from the open window above the sink. Mrs. Mason screamed. Petunia screamed. Dudley rushed from the room. Vernon and Mr. Mason swatted at the owl until it dropped the letter it was carrying and swooshed out back where it came from.
The Masons ran out of there, Mrs. Mason crying about how an owl recently killed her pet cat. Petunia tried to get them to come back, to comfort them, creating lies about that same owl eating their cat, but it was no use. The Masons, and their deal for Vernon, were gone.
Hattie rushed to the floor to try to salvage the roast, but it was no use. Behind her, Vernon ripped open the letter and she heard his breathing get heavier until he was shouting nonsense at her.
“WHAT IN THE RUDDY HELL IS THIS?” He demanded, flourishing the letter at her. She remained on the floor. Petunia came in at that time, wringing her hands. Vernon waved the letter in Hattie’s face again, demanding she take and read it.
She scanned the page and shrank. It was a letter from the Ministry of Magic telling her that underaged wizards couldn’t use magic outside of school and that she misused magic and that it could lead to expulsion. She knew that. She hadn’t told the Dursleys that. It was how she got through most of the summer without them being too mean to her.
“You haven’t been able to use magic all summer?” He demanded. Beside him, Petunia was quiet.
“Well, you took away my wand, so I couldn’t have done magic anyways,” Hattie retorted, finding her voice. She scrambled to her feet just as Vernon lurched forward and grabbed her by the back of her pretty new dress.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, you’re NOT going back there.” He yanked her through the doors, down the hallway, to the stairs, and threw her into her bedroom. “You’re NEVER going back there!”
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Hattie remained in her room for the next week. Vernon had had bars fitted to her windows, so now Hedwig couldn’t even escape. But at least she no longer had to cook or do chores. Dudley or Petunia dropped food off to her three times a day. She knew when Dudley dropped her food off because there were a few bites missing, and she knew when Petunia dropped it off because there was an extra carrot or two for Hedwig.
Over the week, Hattie had decided that her aunt had to know that magic wasn’t allowed. She had grown up with a witch for a sister. She had to have known and never corrected Vernon or Dudley or Hattie when she whispered her threats to her cousin. But Hattie didn’t know why Petunia pretended for her.
Hattie was braiding her hair absentmindedly in her room when she heard the doorbell downstairs ring. It never rang. Interest piqued, she paused and listened.
“No solicitors!” Vernon shouted when he opened the door.
“We’re not solicitors,” came a sweet voice. A woman. “We came to find Hattie Potter?”
“HATTIE!”
It was Hermione!