A/N: An important fact to remember throughout the story - I have aged everyone up by one year. So, instead of starting school at 11 years, they start at 12 years. In this reimagined world, I have them come of age at 18 instead of 17.

TW: this book begins from a scene taken from Cursed Child and therefore contains your first trigger warning: child abuse.

******

A hand reaches out, slapping me painfully across the face. I blink, confused. "Wh-what time is it?"

"Time enough," My aunt spits, sneering down at me as I search blindly for my glasses. "You're turning out to be such a limp disappointment, Harriet. When we agreed to take you in, we hoped we could improve you."

"I try..." I answer, my eleven-year-old voice sounding small and weak.

"Trying is not succeeding, though, is it? There are grease smears on the glasses. There are scuff marks on the pots. Now get up and go to the kitchen and get scrubbing."

As I crawl out of the cupboard, I realise too late that my pajama bottoms are wet.

"What have you done? You've wet the bed again!" Petunia hisses, pulling the covers back. "You revolting, disgusting child! You make me sick!"

"I can't help it!" I cry as she pins me against the wall and repeatedly smacks my head over and over again. "I can't help it!"

Once she is done mauling me, she whips the wet sheets from out of the cupboard and throws them at me.

"Get them cleaned you filthy creature, and then get to the kitchen to scrub those pans!"

I am left sobbing in the hallway outside my cupboard under the stairs, entangled in my own sodden sheets. I barely notice when footsteps approach, a hand placing tentatively upon my shoulder. "Harri?"

I look up at my cousin, Dudley, his face soft, yet eyes full of pity. Despite being the same age, he looks older than me by years, and I am instantly comforted by his presence.

Opening my mouth to speak, I am horrified to find just a small, shaking sob escapes. Aunt Petunia has hurt me, but it is nothing compared to the humiliation of my cousin discovering me tangled up in my own urine-soaked sheets.

But he doesn't laugh or mock me, despite the tears now rolling down my face. Instead he kneels down, his eyes kind and warm, offering me a small smile. "Harri," he says quietly, "Go to my room, you can borrow some of my clothes and I'll put these in the wash for you."

He tries to prise the sheets from around me, but I clutch them to me, horrified at the idea of him touching them.

"No, please no-" I say hurriedly, "I'll do it. I'm okay, honest."

I attempt to get to my feet, but the bashing I have just received from my aunt has left me feeling weak and I stumble forwards into Dudley's arms. I try not to break down as instead of letting me go, his arms tighten around me, enveloping me in a hug.

Dudley does not hug me very often, but when he does, it is the best feeling in the world.

And then I really cry, because soon he will be going off to a private school - a boarding school, and I am afraid of being here without him.

"QUIT YOUR SNIVELLING YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD!" My aunt's voice screeches from inside the kitchen.

Dudley lets go of me quickly, afraid of being caught comforting me. I do not blame him in the slightest. Once, Uncle Vernon walked in on Dudley snapping his biscuit in half to share with me and he got slapped upside the head so hard that he yelped out in pain. It didn't matter that Vernon had immediately apologised or took him out for ice cream. Dudley had been on the receiving end of their abuse which was normally saved for me, and he was afraid of it happening again.

Throwing me a quick, sympathetic look, Dudley hurriedly goes to the kitchen.

My cousin is the only thing in four Privet Drive that I am grateful for. And I'm going to miss him so achingly much.

****

It is the day before Dudley's twelfth birthday, and Dudley is waiting for me in our usual spot out of sight around the corner, his beefy face grinning at me as I hurry towards him.

My happiness is marred, however, with the knowledge that soon we will not be able to walk home from school together, a routine which began since Dudley witnessed some nasty kids playing catch with my school bag, scattering all my things over the road.

He is my protector in every way and I realise I will need to start toughening up if I'm to survive without him. But unlike Dudley, my appearance alone causes me ridicule. Where Dudley is tall and round, I am short and skinny. Dudley wears all the latest trends where I am reduced to tying a piece of rope around my middle in order for Dudley's old worn and tired hand-me-downs to fit.

"Your face looks better," Dudley observes as we begin our ten minute journey home.

I shrug. I do not like my reflection much so I avoid mirrors as much as I can get away with. This is mainly due to the fact that I hate that great big ugly scar across my forehead - a constant reminder that my parents are dead.

"Tell you, what," Dudley says, a mischievous smile twitching at his lips, "why don't we go and get an ice cream... you know, to celebrate my birthday tomorrow?"

The idea is so tempting, so alluring, that I can almost taste the ice cream on the tip of my tongue already. I can count on one hand how many times I've tried ice cream (thanks to Dudley allowing me a sneaky lick behind Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's back on outings where they were forced to take me along with them).

"But you'll get into so much trouble," I point out dully, not caring about myself as I get into trouble simply just for breathing.

I watch as Dudley's face falls. He is not scared of much, but he is scared of his parents. He may not get treated as badly as I do, but in a way that's worse as he is constantly waiting for them to turn on him like his father did that one time.

"Yeah, you're right," he mutters, giving a heavy sigh. "Just a stupid idea, I suppose."

Feeling bad, I nudge my skinny shoulder against his meaty arm and smile up at him. "Maybe we'll get an ice cream at the zoo tomorrow?"

Ha! Dudley will, but I sure as heck won't. And it isn't even likely that I'll even get a sneaky lick as Dudley's horrid friend Piers will be there too.

My heart gives an unpleasant twist. As much as I appreciate Dudley's kindness towards me, he only ever displays it in secret. This is why we meet around the corner after school and not at the school gates. When anyone else is about, he acts as though I don't exist. And it is a thousand times worse when his friends are present who all love to mercilessly make fun of me. Even though Dudley never joins in with the nasty taunts, he also never stops them.

Fight back! He would implore whenever I would confront him about it afterwards I'm not going to be around to defend you all the time!

*****

The following day I am woken up by Aunt Petunia banging on my cupboard door, ordering me to get started on Dudley's birthday breakfast.

I quietly smirk to myself when he starts kicking up a fuss about the number of presents waiting on the table for him. I make sure his bacon is extra crispy - just the way he likes it - because I know he's doing it on purpose for my amusement.

For some reason, Petunia and Vernon only like Dudley when he is acting like a spoilt, entitled brat. They almost seem proud of it. Any hint of their precious Dudders showing a soft, generous side, they smack him upside the head.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father." Vernon chuckles as he ruffles Dudley's hair. "Atta boy, Dudley!"

The outing to the zoo wasn't too bad as it goes. When Piers slyly pinched my leg on the way in the car, I took Dudley's advice and repaid him with an equally sly wrist burn. Piers yelped, pulling his arm away to cradle his wrist, Dudley glanced down at me from over the top of Piers head and there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

And when I ended the zoo visit by having a chat with a snake, and setting it on Piers, I could almost see Dudley bursting with pride.

Perhaps I'd be alright without him, after all. It would not stop me from missing him though.

*****

The day the letter came, was just an ordinary day like no other.

The letter, however, was anything but ordinary.

First of all, it was addressed to me.

"Who do you think would write to you here?" Dudley asked quietly as I showed it to him. "And how do they know where you sleep?"

I shook my head, baffled as him. Shakily, I slid my finger beneath the fold, but before I could tear it open, a hand reached out and snatched it from me.

"Hey, that's mine!" I shouted angrily up at my uncle who held it up out of my reach, his face positively puce.

But he refused to let me have it and instead tore it up into tiny little pieces which he then angrily shoved in his pocket.

The next day, the exact same thing happened. And when I received another on a Sunday, Uncle Vernon almost had a stroke.

He bundled us all into the car and drove us miles and miles away, eventually stopping to hire a boat. He rowed us out on the sea to a hut on a rock.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley whimpered to Aunt Petunia. When she said nothing, he burst into tears.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry.

I, however, did not feel even close to tears. Instead I felt this little ball of excitement ever growing in my stomach. Something was happening, and it was happening because someone out there was desperate to get in touch with me.

And so here I am now, lying on the cold, dirty floor of the hut, writing 'Happy Birthday Harri' in the dust with a stick.

I am twelve years old, and so far, this has been the best birthday to date.

There is a movement, and suddenly Dudley is next to me, having left his sleeping parents on the only mattress in the hut.

"Happy birthday, Harri," he whispers, taking the stick from my hand and adding two 'x's beneath my birthday message.

We exchange a smile which is interrupted by the door bursting open with a loud crash.

There is shouting as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are startled awake. However, Dudley and I are too frozen to move as we stare up at the great hulking figure of a giant stepping inside towards us.

After insulting my intelligence, this great big hairy beast called Hagrid, says something which changes my life forever:

"You're a witch, Harri."

I'M A WOT?!

*****