A/N: Slight warning--- There is the mention of psychical abuse and neglect in this chapter.
Please be safe lovelies!
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#4 Privet Drive, Surrey
Harry was a quiet girl.
An odd girl.
A 'freak'.
Now, most would debate the notion that such a sweet-looking little girl could be such horrible things, but as most people learned quickly, this was indeed the case.
She could read before any of the other children her age, same with speaking, and she never did normal 'children things'. She never had anything but perfect balance, she always chose to sit quietly instead of play, seldom spoke- and when she did- she had the verbal skills of an adult. The other kids her age refused to go anywhere near her, and the teachers thought her unnerving- even the mean dog that came with her uncle's sister seemed scared of her.
(Which was fine with her. She had a special dislike for the tamed non-magical animals, as she thought them annoying and brainless, content to eat their own feces and slobber all over everything.)
She didn't mind the humans not liking her, knowing that the same magic that filled the air around her made non-magical beings uncomfortable, having an opposite calming effect on magical creatures.
What she was not alright with, however, was the way she was treated by the humans that were tasked with raising her.
The Dursleys were prime examples of why the fae had given up on the human race.
Horse-face and Walrus (or Petunia and Vernon, as she idly remembered that the two were called, even if she couldn't call them that because they hadn't given her their names yet) were horrible. Locking her in a cupboard, not feeding her, sometimes even beating her- she was sure that if she was a human she would have died long ago from any combination of their harsh treatment.
But for now, too young in body and still getting accustomed to living with the humans, she just waited. Patience was not unusual to her and even with the grueling work and the horrid conditions, she would wait until the time to strike, lay in wait like the snakes that often found refuge in her small meadow cottage in Elfame.
For now, she would play the role of Harry Potter.
A new chore had been added to her list, but she thought gardening almost a gift as she got to sit out in the grass and talk to the flowers quietly as she felt the dirt under her hands. Not that the store-bought unintelligent flowers were engaging conversationalists, but once and a while she'd get to see a small sprite dancing though the air directing the bees, and she'd remember who she was- that she had importance other than just being the 'worthless child' the humans called her.
She got older- grew into her wide green eyes and petite frame, inky hair a mane of soft but wild waves that never seemed to want to stay the length her 'aunt' cut it to.
Grew into a child with deft steps that could use a small pin to sneak from the cupboard, avoiding the creaky steps as she pushed open the back door, free into the moonlight to dance with the wind silently.
Grew into a silent thief, picking pockets and filching morsels of food while she cooked for her 'relatives'.
Learning new words from the bottles of cleaning supplies and leaning against the thin wooden door to listen to the sounds of the mechanical box with pictures her 'cousin' often sat in front of, she taught herself to be as human as she could since no one else would. She made herself stumble over words when talking to teachers, learned that when adults that bumped into her said 'sorry' that it would only draw attention to ask what they would give her.
YOU ARE READING
The Changeling
FantasíaHarry Potter was not normal. Pretty, sweet, polite, and kind maybe... but never normal. Oh, she knew this all too well- had ever since she was set down carefully in the wooden cradle as the elder Potters were distracted, the other small crying baby...
