Chapter Text
A/N: I know that original characters can be annoying and seen as self-inserts, especially female ones but I’ve tried my best to make her likeable and I really just wanted to do a non-BWL story so bear with me.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
Alternate Universe: Harry is in the same year as Cedric Diggory and I aged up all the other Hufflepuffs in canon Harry’s generation to the same year because I think that it would be easier for everyone to remember them. Daisy Potter is canon Harry’s counterpart in this story, such that when the Triwizard tournanment happens, Daisy would be a 4th year but Harry would be in his 7th. Everyone else remains at their normal age, such that Daisy’s two best friends are Ron and Hermione. Also Daisy because her family’s obviously really into flowers let’s be real.
Prologue
What was this emotion? His lips parted, it was even getting a little hard to breathe. Tom had finally reached their table, with concern in his eyes, he held Harry’s hand, “Are you alright? Why are you shaking?”
Fear.
Harry blinked and distracted himself with the music to calm his wild imagination. He noted that ‘Love Me Tender’ had ended and apparently Puddifoot was on an Elvis playlist because it was yet another song from the popular muggle singer.
Harry stared at Tom as he took a seat, still holding Harry’s hand. In the background, Presley croons, “Would it be a sin, if I–, ” Harry felt his hands stable and drinks in the sight of a living Tom Riddle, “–can’t help falling in love with you?”
Damn it, Elvis.
Chapter 1
November 1977 (Harry is 4 months old.)
Petunia Dursley sipped from her glass of water, enjoying the silence of the household. Vernon was out for a company dinner, leaving Petunia with much needed time alone.
The soft patter of the rain against her windows was the only sounds accompanying her own breathing and she relished in the lack of noise. She loved Vernon but the man never understood that silence was golden.
A knock brought her out of her thoughts. Odd. Vernon would have let himself in. Perhaps, it was the neighbours. Smoothing her skirt and tucking a lock of hair behind her ears, she passed the mirror along the hallway and after making sure she was presentable, opened the door.
And there she stood. Water dripping from stringy red hair, cheeks sunken and violently purple bags under her eyes, Lily Potter stood at the entrance. And Lily’s usual bright verdant eyes were dull and resigned. She held a baby, swathed in cotton.
Lily’s lips trembled (from the cold?) when she called, “Tuney.”
Petunia Dursley could only open the door wider for her sister.
Lily held onto the baby closer as she entered. She removed her wet cloak and hung it on the coat stand. Petunia grimaced at the puddle accumulating from the dripping cloak but didn’t say a word.
“Tea?”
Lily nodded mutely. Petunia didn’t drink tea after 5pm and it was already 10pm, but she felt like wherever this conversation was headed, soothing chamomile tea was a requirement.
After two cups of tea, Lily finally broke the silence and gestured to the quiet baby, “You know Harry.”
“Yes. Your son with that nastily common name.”
Lily’s eyes were dead when she said, “He’s your son now.”
Seeing Petunia’s frozen face and blinking eyes, she continued, “It’s not safe for Harry where we are.” Lily blinked and moisture dripped from her eyes, “Please raise him as your own.”
Petunia opened her mouth to protest; she had plans for her own child and she wasn’t going to pretend that some freak was her baby. Before any words could be verbalised, Lily’s tears fell freely, “He doesn’t have magic! We are in the midst of a war. I can’t raise him in the magical world, Tuney. I can’t. He’ll be the first to die. I just – can’t.”
Lily closed her eyes, clutching Harry closer to her chest and rocking back and forth as tears spill out. “My poor poor Harry. A squib! Oh merlin, I’m so sorry, Harry. It’s all my fault.”
As if sensing his wife’s distress, a loud crack of apparition had James Potter standing in the middle of the living room between the two women. Without even greeting Petunia, Potter snatched Harry out from Lily’s embrace. Holding Harry’s head, that was so much like his own, Potter told Lily, “We can’t, Lils, We can’t give Harry away. We can prot– ”
“We can’t!” Lily shouted. Her fingers tug at the strong hold that Potter had on Harry, “James, we’ve talked about this. We have to let Harry go. Dumbledore said-”
This time, it was James that shouted. With tears brimming, he shouted at his wife, “Well, I can’t! I can’t do it!”
“That’s why I told you not to come, James! Let me handle this,” her fingers not making much work on her husband’s muscular arms.
In the middle of the weeping argument, they had forgotten where they were and whom they were with. Petunia stood up and cleared her throat, both crying adults turned to her.
She can’t believe she was going to do this. Petunia took a deep breath, “You said he was normal?”
Lily nodded sadly and even though Potter held Harry even tighter to his chest, Petunia could see the resignation in his eyes.
She held her arms out, “I will love him like my own, I promise.”
With shaking hands, Potter passed Harry over to Petunia. Bright green eyes, just like his mother’s, shone with shed tears. Harry had woken up sometime between his parents’ shouting match and cried silently. Using her thumb, Petunia tenderly wiped the tears off his chubby cheeks.
Harry Potter was such a horrid, plebeian name, if you ask her. Hadrian Dursley sounded much better.
February 1983 (Harry is 5 years old.)
“Again!” Dudley Dursley cried out with jubilance. Hadrian laughed and pushed the toy train towards his two-year-old brother. At five, Hadrian was the best doting brother one could ask for and Petunia couldn’t be prouder of her two boys.
She smiled into her teacup as she took another sip of earl grey, discreetly spying on her children’s playtime.
Barely three years after Hadrian was given to her, Petunia gave birth to Dudley. Childbirth was the most excruciating experience she ever had but that instant connection she made with Dudley was priceless. Every action Dudley made was precious and Petunia could understand why Lily looked like she was a living corpse when she handed Hadrian over.
Hadrian, such a beautiful name, was everything a mother could want: sweet, caring, charming and just a tad bit mischievous to make himself all the more endearing. With unruly black hair and almond-shaped green eyes, Hadrian was a painful mix of James and Lily Potter. Despite that, Petunia truly loved the little boy.
“Ow!”
“Oh no, Dudley! You okay?”
Snapping out of her reverie, Petunia cursed (internally) for her distraction and turned to her children. Dudley was holding back tears; his right cheek red and slightly scratched. Petunia breathed a sigh of relief: he wasn’t dying. Parental paranoia was real.
She turned to Hadrian, who looked extremely guilty. She lay a hand gently on Hadrian’s shoulder, “What happened, darling?”
Wringing his hands together, the little boy was flustered as he tried explaining with jumbled words and rushed apologies.
“Slow down, Hadrian. Whatever that happened must have been an accident.”
Taking a deep breath, Hadrian explained, “Well, I was trying to impress Dudley, so I wanted to show him a flying train and I lost control.”
Lost control? Petunia’s brows furrowed, “You lost control of your hands while you were ‘flying’ the train?”
Hadrian shook his head vehemently, his black locks bouncing. “No! I lost control of the air!”
Air? What in the world was Hadrian saying? Petunia frowned, “Now, Hadrian, it’s not good to lie.”
“I’m not! Watch!”
Petunia turned to the toy train and it suddenly started floating, albeit a little shakily.
Floating?
Petunia’s heart sank. Hadrian’s hurried explanation went unheard and the only thing that Petunia could think of was that she loved a freak. And all of a sudden, she couldn’t see Hadrian Dursley, her beloved son. She could only see Harry Potter.
Petunia knew that if Vernon found out that Dudley’s new injury was a result of Hadrian’s freakishness, their eldest son would be buried alive. Petunia did what she needed to do; she lied, playing the accident off as a careless mistake.
However, Hadrian – no, Harry – could not be allowed to stay in their family any longer. His freaky powers would be their downfall one day. Her Hadrian was magical. Petunia bristled with anger. Lily, that dirty little liar.
“Mummy,” Petunia’s heart ached, hearing Hadrian call her that. “What are we doing here?”
Here was the result of Petunia’s deliberation after a few days: Carr’s Orphanage.
Petunia bent to Hadrian’s level, one knee on the ground. Looking straight into the bright green eyes of her son, her heart clenched and it took her a while to say it. “Hadrian, your real name is Harry Potter.”
The name tasted foreign on her tongue; such a common name for such a magnificent boy.
“Your real parents will come for you,” she told him.
Harry’s brows furrowed and confused, he asked, “Real parents? What are you talking about, mum?”
“I’m not your real mother, Harry.” Petunia looked away, she couldn’t bear to watch Harry’s face crumble.
“But, I love you very much,” she pulled Hadrian in for a hug. He was her son and while it pained her, she couldn’t accept him. He didn’t belong with her. He belonged with his people. With Lily and James Potter.
Petunia held him at arm’s length. She wished she could let him stay at 4 Privet Drive while waiting for the Potters but Harry had almost revealed his magic to Vernon the other day and her husband had zero tolerance for anything out of the norm.
“You are so loved, my son.”
Thick fat tears rolled down Hadrian’s cheeks, “Then why are you leaving me?”
Petunia could only hug Hadrian again tightly and cursed Lily for thinking, even a second, that Hadrian could have been normal.