Understairs (Harry Potter fanfic)

The Woman

"Who are you?"

Her eyes were still refocusing in the dark, yet she made out in front of her a woman staring at her, her mouth twisted into a somewhat irritated scowl as she clutched the frame of the door. The woman's dark hair was pulled up into a bun and her clothing—she was definitely a housewife type of person, Alisha thought as she sat there on the cot.

"I'm your Aunt Petunia," the woman said rather coldly, continuing to glare at her niece—supposed niece. Alisha's body could, after all, pass as a child.

"Am I a female Harry Potter?" Alisha said, the words coming out of her mouth without any sense of refrain.

"Are you what?" her aunt's voice rose, almost as if she wanted to screech.

Alisha's eyes widened, her fingers gripping the edge of the cot as she looked around. There were indeed toy soldiers off to one side, a worn comic book in another, and even toy horses, just as there were in the book. And other things in the closet, on the shelves, with not much room to move around, but enough.

She'd said the wrong thing.

That much she knew from the tone of voice, yet she also knew that if she were Harry Potter in this universe, Petunia Dursley wouldn't even know what or who a Harry Potter was. It sounded odd, strange, and indeed, one of those weird things the Dursley family wished to avoid, and so Alisha could only look away while having no idea what to say.

"Lily Petunia Potter-Dursley," her Aunt let out a deep breath.

Alisha—no, Lily in this world, something she would have to get used to, turned her head to look at the woman, her mouth pressed together as she still didn't know what to say to the woman who was in effect, except for what she knew of her from the books, a complete and utter stranger.

"I'm going to ask again, what are you doing in the closet?"

"Didn't you lock me in here?" Alisha asked while her aunt's eyes widened, meaning she was trying her patience. Alisha knew, or from what she remembered, he'd been locked in the closet.

"Of course not! Where would you get that bloody idea from?"

"From a book," Alisha said, wishing that she wasn't so bloody honest.

"A book? What books have you been reading?" Petunia asked.

"Uh?" Alisha thought, staring at the woman, before blurting out, "None? Because you don't let me?"

"Excuse me?" There came a huff from Petunia. "What are you bloody talking about? Have you hit your head?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Alisha frowned. Something was definitely off regarding the situation, as this wasn't anything like what she expected from the books.

"So, let me ask again. Why are you in the closet?"

Alisha saw the corner of Petunia's mouth twitch. Alisha stared, knowing she needed to answer lest she be in trouble, but answer what she didn't know. "I live here."

"You—you what?" Petunia stared, wide-eyed. She'd let go of the door frame and now stood there with her arms crossed, wholly flabbergasted as what she said. "You live here?"

"Well, isn't it my bedroom?" Alisha ashed, now glaring at the woman despite knowing she knew full well that might not be in her best interest.

"It absolutely is not! Why would you come up with such horrid tales?" Petunia choked out.

"I'm not coming up with horrid tales," Alisha insisted, glaring at the woman. "Or is there company here that makes not want them to know you lock your niece in her cupboard bedroom?"

"You horrid little...."

Petunia grabbed her wrist then, dragging her from the closet, slamming the door, and dragging her into the kitchen. Her aunt was fuming and looked as if she were going to hit her, to spank her, and Alisha froze, letting out a sharp breath as she looked at the woman in fear, knowing full well she was an adult in a child's body unable to defend herself.

Instead, Petunia let her arm go, and...

Well, there was that other option for punishment, though perhaps describing it as a punishment rather than a chore hoisted on Harry and only Harry in the books wasn't quite right. Alisha hurried to the refrigerator to start pulling out items to cook breakfast or whatever meal was supposed to be the next meal.

She also thought she should hurry, lest...

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making Dudley breakfast, so you don't spank me." Alisha looked right at Petunia.

Her aunt stared. She stared and then said, "While that's nice—hold on! What do you mean me spank you!"

"I mean what I said."

"I am not going to spank you! You need to stop playing in the closet!"

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Alisha thought to herself.

"And it's not breakfast!" Petunia huffed. "For goodness sakes!" Alisha felt her arm grabbed again and, this time sat down at the kitchen table, firmly in one of the six chairs. Petunia stuck a finger in her face. "Stay! I'll be right back!"

Alisha let out a huff. She crossed her arms. She glared. She knew that she knew the books and the consequences of getting on any of the wrong side of any Dursley. While Petunia was gone, the question was whether she should run and hide, albeit knowing that would bring authority figures looking for her, not to mention a child couldn't really live on their own, or try making breakfast, or maybe lunch, maybe dinner for Dudley and everybody.

A thermometer being shoved into her mouth answered her question.

"What.."

Petunia clamped her mouth shut. "Nope. I'm taking your temperature. You've been acting strangely."

"Have not," Alisha muttered, her arms crossing her chest.

Petunia shook her head. "No. You must have a fever because there's no way you'd act like this, like such a brat, if this weren't the case."

"I think it's her who has the fever, as she's not acting as she would in the books," Alisha thought to herself.

"Well, if you do have a fever, I am taking you to see a doctor, even if I have to pick Dudley and your brother up from the park on the way there."

"Brother?" Alisha thought. And then, "Oh."