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𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓾𝓽 𝓾𝓹?
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August 18, 1993
Two weeks before the start of Third Year
at Hogwarts

"So, let me get this straight. I left camp for one summer and now there's another child of the Underworld?"

"There was Bianca actually... Before she—"

"Two children of Hades," the redhead said, her green eyes unamused and in disbelief. "You do know this will anger Persephone, right?" However, it clicked to the girl why Hades wanted her search to be discreet, especially from his wife.

After clarifying and processing all the information her friend told her, she said, "I'll do my end of the search. Thank you, Percy."

Elizabeth Asteria Potter stood at the edge of the Sunken Forest of Long Island, the orange hues of the sun filtering through the gnarled branches above. It indicated that the day almost ended. Yet, her efforts are in vain since she still has no idea where the missing son of Hades is.

In fact, it was the King of the Underworld, Hades himself, who sent her on this "side quest" to find a boy named Nico di Angelo. He had gone missing after learning of his sister's death. After the events of the last month at camp (which she unfortunately had to miss because of her clingy brother), his absence caused the King of the Underworld distress.

Elizabeth hummed to herself. "'Wonder what it feels like to have a parent worried about his child," she idly spoke as she searched for clues that would lead her to Nico. The idea was foreign to her. After all, her parents were dead, and she now had to live with an insufferable Aunt and Uncle who despised her and her brother.

With determination to find the son of Hades, Elizabeth focused on the dark energy surrounding her, feeling it swirl and pulse. She had the ability gifted by the gods of the Underworld to sense souls and the presence of others. Yet, she only felt the presence of animals and creatures. No sign of a Nico di Angelo.

"Where are you, Nico?" she murmured, her breath a whisper as she basked in the lowering sunlight. She glanced at her watch, which told her to end her search for the day. She needed to continue her search tomorrow because a relative was visiting "home."

She conjured a passage to the Underworld, tapping into the ancient magic coursing through her being. As the shadows twisted around her, the ground shook slightly as the air around her warped, forming a doorway that pulsed with dark energy.

Stepping through, she was surrounded by the dimly lit caverns connecting different parts of the world, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the echo of distant whispers. She raced down the tunnels, guided by the faint glow of the river ahead. It was a passageway from America to Britain via the Underworld. 'Quite handy, actually,' Elizabeth told herself.

As she reached the riverbank, the murky waters swirled ominously, shadows flitting beneath the surface. The redhead exited the passage from the Underworld, noting the bright sun illuminating the riverbank. Elizabeth stepped into the shadows, "shadow-traveling" her way back home.

Unfortunately, home did not greet her warmly.

In comparison to the sun that greeted her return to Great Britain, Little Whinging was drenched in rain and loomed over with thunderclouds. 'Great,' Elizabeth said. 'Aunt Marge is visiting, and I'm drenched—how delightful.'

Elizabeth Potter hated rain, and it did not help that the sister of their uncle was visiting. Marge Dursley was a nasty woman with nasty ideals. Elizabeth couldn't even bear to think that such a woman existed in this world. Furthermore, the female Potter was not a fan of how she treated her pet dogs.

'Even Cerberus is treated better than those poor pugs,' Elizabeth thought, recalling that one summer when she had to stay in the Underworld to nurse Cerberus because he got sick (Don't even ask why or how. It just happened.).

Anyway, the search for Nico di Angelo already gave her a headache. Hades kept bugging her all week about his son. Head pulsing, Elizabeth fished a piece of ambrosia in her pocket to make her feel better and the pain tolerable. Munching on her snack, she stepped into the shadows again and transported herself to her and her brother's shared room.

"Harry. Harry, open the door!" The female Potter's senses were overwhelmed by the shouts of her Aunt Petunia in the kitchen.

"Σκρόφα," She silently muttered, reminding herself of the large, beefy, and purple-faced female version of her uncle that was already downstairs at the very house she stood at.

The redhead took a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm her nerves. Yet, memories of Aunt Marge's cruelty in her past visits seeped through her thoughts. The violence, the insults, and the unnecessary remarks. Marge constantly reminded the twins of their worth—that they were a burden. Worthless.

𓆩☠︎︎𓆪

Harry James Potter internally groaned due to the disappearance of his twin sister. "Where is she?" He uttered to himself as he placed Aunt Marge's luggage into the guest room upstairs.

To his luck, he spots Elizabeth leaving their room, an immediate joy coursing through his body.

"Lizzie!" He whisper-shouted to his sister, grateful that she came back. "Thank god you're here. Where did you go?"

His sister would make up a lie that he knew too well. He knew his sister was hiding something from him. He also knew she was too stubborn to admit it. Yet, he trusted her with his life. He knew that if it were something she wanted him to know, she would tell him, and he respected that.

However, there was still a slight fear in his subconscious whenever she disappeared for a short while every now and then. It reminded him of the incident five years ago where he thought he lost the only ally he had in the world—his sister.

"Uncle Vernon says that if we behave, he'll be signing our permission forms for Hogsmead village," Harry informed his twin, earning a hopeful grin from her.

𓆩☠︎︎𓆪

Aunt Marge's booming voice filled the Dursleys' dining room as she reached for her glass, having already downed a fair bit of wine. Harry and Lizzie were by the kitchen, tending to the dishes and doing their best to ignore the conversations of the whole Dursley family.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked his sister with a bottle of Brandy in his hand.

"Oh, just a small one," Aunt Marge replied, greedily eyeing the food before her.

"Excellent nosh, Petunia," The woman continued, holding out her plate for more food and her glass for more brandy. "A bit more. Usually just a fry-up for me, what with the dogs, but this is smashing!"

"Just a bit more," Marge said to Vernon as he poured more liquor. "That's a boy," she added before glancing back at Dudley and Petunia. The former was stuffing his face with eyes stuck to the television screen, and the latter had an uncomfortable smile, yet he smiled nonetheless.

"You wanna try a little drop of brandy?" Marge then cooed at her bulldog, Ripper. "A little drop of brandy-brandy windy-wandy for Rippy-pippy-pooh?"

"You're poisoning him," the redhead commented as Marge lowered her glass so Ripper could drink some Brandy. The young girl's grip on the plates was tight as she tried to control her irritation.

"Dogs cannot metabolize alcohol. Give it time, and you'll have a disoriented dog who's vomiting everywhere and having diarrhea," Elizabeth added. "From the look on Aunt Petunia's face, she seems not to appreciate Ripper slobbering her newly bought carpet with alcohol and saliva.

Unfortunately for the girl, the talk of 'vomit' and 'diarrhea' was not an appropriate dinner discussion. Hence, to ease Marge's rage, Vernon changed topics while Petunia played along, rejecting Lizzie's claims.

The ruckus made Harry jab his sibling by the rib, reminding her of what was at stake. Hogsmead village. A trip to hang out with friends. Yet, his face betrayed him as Lizzie's actions elicited a grin from him.

Marge caught this and turned her attention toward the boy. Eyes narrowing, she said, "What are you smirking at?"

"Where did you send them, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus'!" Vernon roared, sweat trickling down his forehead because of the lie he was making. "It's a fine institution for hopeless cases."

Marge's eyes gleamed with malicious delight, turning to the twins with the question. "Do they use a cane at St. Brutus'?"

The twins eyed each other, making an unspoken signal to play along for Hogsmeade. "Oh, yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, we've been beaten loads of times," Lizzie added.

However, the atmosphere changed when the oversized prune started talking again.

"Excellent," Marge crooned, earning a subtle look of disgust from Lizzie. "I won't have this namby-pamby... wishy-washy nonsense about not beating people who deserve it."

'Who in their right state of mind thinks like this?' Lizzie's fists unconsciously clenched at her sides as if her body went into auto-pilot. She was barely holding back, her breath shallow as she resisted the urge to intervene and punch Marge in the face. But she promised Harry they'd behave. For Hogsmead. For Uncle Vernon's signature.

Aunt Marge continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "You mustn't blame yourself for how this one turned out," she told the Dursleys. "It's all to do with blood. Bad blood will out."

"What is it the boy's father did, Petunia?" Marge asked, her tone gleefully cruel. Lizzie's eyes darted to Harry, watching as his hands curled into fists beside her. She could feel his anger building, just as hers was.

"Nothing. He didn't work. He was unemployed."

"And a drunk too, no doubt?" Marge added with relish.

"That's a lie."

"What did you say?"

Snap. "Our dad wasn't a drunk."

The glass in Marge's hand shattered instantly, causing a commotion at those at the table. Dudley continued watching television. Vernon and Peruna were startled. Meanwhile, Marge jumped but quickly recovered, waving it off. "Don't fuss, Petunia. I have a very firm grip."

Uncle Vernon gave the siblings a dark look. "I think it's time for both of you to go to bed."

At this point, neither of them was thinking about Hogsmeade nor the fact that they still hadn't eaten dinner because the Dursleys were still not finished—They were going too far.

"Quiet, Vernon," Marge snapped at her brother before turning to Lizzie. "You—clean it up."

Lizzie's gaze hardened, yet she complied. She took deep breaths to get a hold of her emotions, or else she would be the one sending this woman to Thanatos herself.

"Actually, it's nothing to do with the father," Marge continued.

'Does she ever know how to shut up?'

"It's all to do with the mother. I have nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg—even the best families turn up with it. You see it all the time with dogs. If something's wrong with the bitch, there's something wrong with the pup."

"Shut up!" Harry exploded from the counter, his face flushed with rage.

Uncle Vernon was about to shut Harry out when Lizzie exploded as well. "JUST SHUT UP!"

It was one thing to insult them. They could handle being insulted, bullied, and beaten with many cruel words. But their parents? Their parents who sacrificed themselves to save them—

"All your talk about dogs when you yourself are one." It was Elizabeth's time to insult Aunt Marge. "You drink from the same cup that's filled with your dog's slobber. Your talk disgusts me as if you were an animal. And you dare to insult our parents like you're some sort of perfect being?"

"NEWS FLASH: ALL OF YOU HERE ARE DOWNRIGHT SICKENING," Lizzie exclaimed, her green eyes meeting Petunia despite her aunt's best efforts to evade them.

The lights of the house were flickering as both Potter siblings were enraged. "You allow this woman to talk shit about your sister? What does that say about you?"

"Right," Marge tried to continue, her face red in anger. "Let me tell you—"

However, before Aunt Marge could spit nasty insults of her own, magic surged through the room. Marge's body began to inflate, her eyes widening in horror as she ballooned up like a grotesque parody of herself.

"MARGE!" Vernon roared, his face contorted in horror as his sister floated up toward the ceiling, her large form bumping against the chandelier.

Petunia's guilt turned into a scream as Dudley froze momentarily before returning his attention to the television. It was only at this moment that Harry realized what they'd done. His attention locked into Lizzie, who was silent by the table, clutching the rag with broken shards of glass.

Out of anger, she probably didn't noticed the blood dripping from her hand.

Harry grabbed his sister's uninjured hand and dragged her up to their room. "Lizzie," he said to snap his sister back to her senses. "We need to go. Now."

He noticed the tears that formed in her eyes, so he comfortingly squeezed her shoulder. Using the tweezers they had in their room, Harry skillfully took the shards of glass from her skin while Lizzie stared deep into the wall. He left to get the medicine kit in the bathroom and patched her up immediately. (This was a "regular" occurrence for the twins. They got into fights a lot and got beaten up a lot.)

"I'm going to get our books and cauldrons from the cupboard under the stairs. Can you handle our clothes and our trunk?" Harry asked as Lizzie gave him a curt nod.

A small smile formed on her lips as she went on to work despite the injured hand, "Let's just get out of here."