Hartley Potter and the Secret of Forever

Chapter Two: Winter is Coming

…

The day of Grandma Holly's funeral dawned bright and clear, the last hurrah of summer in an autumn that was heading into an early winter. The sky was exactly that impossible shade of blue that heralded the start of an adventure, or so Grandma Holly would have claimed.

Hartley was dressed in a deep violet velvet dress that she had last worn for midnight mass on Christmas eve. It was tight in the shoulders and short in the sleeves, but Holly had loved it on her. Meredith, a close friend and neighbor, had been looking after Hartley until the Dursleys could make the trip south. Meredith had been the one to arrange the funeral, to brush and comb Hartley's hair and make sure she ate, to make sure she didn't just sit in the living room, staring at the blood stain on the carpet. Together they had packed up Hartley's whole life into a pair of suitcases and a few boxes. The will wouldn't be read until the service, but it was almost certain that Hartley wouldn't be allowed to stay in the house by herself, she was still such a small girl.

The Dursley's arrived the night before the service and stayed in a Hotel in the next town over. Truthfully, they had never wanted much of anything to do with Hartley during holidays or family get-togethers'. Hartley knew that that had been Grandma Holly's influence, not letting them be mean to her, and so they had unanimously decided to ignore her entirely.

Uncle Vernon was a whale of a man with a thick handle bar mustache, and small beady eyes that gleamed meanly. Aunt Petunia was a tall, thin woman with a strand of pearls around her neck and perfectly arranged hair. Their son, Dudley, was round and spoiled with his parents bending to his every whim. He was their pride and joy.

The service was quiet and proceeded exactly as expected in the local church. A man on a podium detailed Holly's life with cool, detached professionalism. Holly had been born into a wealthy family who disowned her when she ran away at seventeen to be an actress, but of course none of that was mentioned. Nor was it talked about how Holly had only consented to marry Drystan Evans after an eight-year courtship and the birth of their two daughters.

Not a word was spoken about Lily, despite her being Holly's younger daughter. That was probably Petunia's doing: She liked to pretend that she didn't have a sister.

All too quickly the service was ending, and the casket was being lowered into the ground in the church yard. Staring at the grave stone, Hartley began to grasp the reality of the situation in a way she hadn't been able to since they pulled her sobbing from her grandmother's body. This was the end of her childhood. Holly had done her best to shield her from the world, but reality was beating at the windows, wanting to be let in. She knew how this would happen: the will would be read, and there would be no place to send her but with the Dursleys, if they would even take her, and that was not at all certain. By this time tomorrow she would be in an orphanage, and then the real challenges would begin. She had to be strong, she had to be strong for Holly, Holly who had believed in her, believed that Hartley could save the world.

It was time to be a big girl now, and big girls didn't cry.

Rising from where she was crouched by the grave, Hartley dried her tears on her handkerchief and blew her nose lightly. Brushing the dirt off her stockinged knees and smoothing out her skirt, Hartley fought for control within herself. The white silk ribbon on her wrist had been tied into an elaborate bow this morning by Meredith, who's hands had been shaking. Undoing it now, Hartley pulled her hair back out of her face and into her best approximation of Holly's signature up-do. It was flawed and a bit messy, but it was a start.

Each step stronger and surer than the last, Hartley walked back into the church.

Petunia Dursley had not been so furious in years.

"… all other material possessions will be sold, along with the house in question, number 34 Willow Tree Road. The profits will be split evenly. One half will go into a trust to provide for the care and education Hartley Euphemia Potter, while the other half will be left to the deceased's only living daughter, Petunia Dursley nee Evans."

The lawyer shuffled his papers a bit.

"Oh, yes," he said, holding up a small boxed covered in gold and red wrapping paper. "This was also left to Hartley Potter," and at this point he held it out to her.

Hartley took it and examined it closely, holding back the urge to shake it.

"Well, go on!" Petunia commanded harshly, curiosity no doubt eating her alive.

This would be the last present she would ever open from Grandma Holly, and Hartley was determined to remember it. Slowly, ever so slowly, she carefully pulled apart the wrappings. Inside the box was a letter, and a velvet jewelry box. Inside was a long necklace that Hartley was sure she would grow into with time, and on the end was a single pendant, a delicate golden violin. Slipping it around her neck, Hartley avoided Petunia's venomous stare and quickly snuck the letter away into her purse.

The lawyer, Mr. Darling, seemed satisfied and shuffled his papers again.

"Now, onto the matter of guardianship," Mr. Darling continued. "Hartley is, of course, too young to care for herself. We have a few papers to sign, Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, but I'm sure we can transfer custody to you quite easily and quickly."

"We never said we wanted the girl," Petunia interrupted. "Surely there are other options."

"Other-" Mr. Darling sputtered a bit. "Other options? You are Hartley's only living relatives. I can't imagine what other options you think there are, Mrs. Dursley."

"An orphanage, or something," Uncle Vernon offered. "Dudley is a good boy. We don't want him infected by her, strangeness," Vernon whispered the word like a contagious disease.

"She's a child!" Mr. Darling interjected.

"You didn't know my sister," Petunia said, matter-of-factly. "She ran around with a crowd of freaks just like her, and then got herself and her good for nothing husband killed. We want no part of it."

"Is there not an ounce of pity in your heart for your niece?" Mr. Darling inquired in a defeated tone.

"I wish her no harm, Mr. Darling," Petunia declared primly. "I simply don't want her anywhere near my family."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the conversation before it could go any farther.

An intern poked their head in, expression clearly expecting to be reprimanded for interrupting such a sensitive proceeding. "My sincerest apologies, but sir, there is a man here who is demanding to be allowed in to the proceedings."

"A man? Who?" questioned Mr. Darling.

"Albus Dumbledore, sir," the intern offered.

Mr. Darling ran over his notes quickly, but he could not find a single mention of a Dumbledore anywhere.

"Tell him to leave," Petunia interjected. "He's not wanted here."

A soft chuckle reverberated through the door, and the intern was gently pushed to the side, revealing an old man in a purple suit with a ridiculously long beard. "Your words injure me, Petunia," he said, entering the room with authority.

"And you are-" Mr. Darling tried to regain order.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," The man now identified as Dumbledore clarified, closing the door behind him with a snap. "You won't find me on that list," Dumbledore offered as Mr. Darling went back to searching the will furiously. "My presence here is only to ensure the wellbeing of Miss Potter."

Hartley looked up, meeting Dumbledore's eyes: they were light blue, and twinkled in a good humoredly way. His lips twitched into the slightest of kind smiles, seeming to share some sort of secret.

"This is a family matter!" Petunia declared, standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "You have no right to be here, and no input!"

"I have Hartley's best interests at heart," Dumbledore said. "I have every right."

"This is all your fault!" Petunia all but screamed. "Everything has always been your fault! Ever since we were children-" Petunia cut herself off, and deflated into her chair.

"Your mother's death was a terrible and tragic accident," Dumbledore said. "I had nothing to do with it."

"You killed my sister!"

"I did no such thing," Dumbledore said. "And that is neither here nor there. We are here because you would turn out your niece, your blood, onto the streets rather that allow her to live with you."

"We want nothing to do with your lot!" Vernon blustered.

"Hartley is a child," Dumbledore said. "She needs caring for."

"If you care so much, why don't you take her?" Petunia spat out.

"Can you not love Lily's daughter?" Dumbledore asked, in a soft but dangerous tone. "Can you not swallow your hatred for the sake of your dead sister's only child? She looks so much like her mother," Dumbledore trailed off.

Petunia looked shaken, and became very interested in the pattern of the carpet.

"We will not take her! Let someone else, one of your lot, take her. We want no part of her!" Vernon said.

"You know perfectly well why it has to be you, Petunia," Dumbledore said in a dark voice. "I know that your mother told you the truth of the situation."

"Because I'm special," Hartley spoke for the first time since Dumbledore entered the room. He turned to look at her with something resembling surprise. Hartley met his eyes straight on. "It's because I'm meant to save the world someday, isn't it? That's why you don't want me in an orphanage. That's why you're here, because you're going to need me one day and you want me to be somewhere easy to find."

"You are an unusually perceptive young woman," Dumbledore said, neither confirming nor denying Hartley's words.

"There a lot of things that are unusual about me, Mr. Dumbledore," Hartley said.

"See!" Vernon interrupts. "She admits it!"

"Vernon," Petunia called to her husband softly. "We have to take her."

"But, Petunia-" Vernon's confusion bled into his voice. "We talked about this! She's dangerous!"

"It has to be us," Petunia said, weakly. "There is no one else."

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. Well, now that that is resolved, I'll be taking my leave. I've intruded long enough," Dumbledore bowed slightly to Mr. Darling, who looked more confused than ever. "We'll be seeing each other again sooner that you think, Hartley," Dumbledore declared with a jolly wave to Hartley as he left the room.

The trip back to Grandma Holly's house was in complete silence. Hartley was sat in the back seat next to her cousin Dudley, who was examining her with something like a mix between curiosity and fear. Turning towards him, Hartley gave him a weak smile, which was hesitantly returned.

The two had never been left alone together, even on the holidays that they shared. Petunia always kept an eye on her "Diddikins" when Hartley was in the room.

There was something almost satisfactory in being feared. Hartley knew she could explode bottles, but what else her power was capable of was a mystery. Holly hadn't known very much either, other that Hartley would need a wand in a few years, and then infinite possibilities would open up, and she would go to that school, Hogwarts. Just two and a half years.

Dudley and Petunia entered the house as if they had been the ones living there for seven years, leaving Hartley with her Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon got a firm grasp on her arm and dragged her into the backyard. Trying to stay calm, Hartley worked on repressing the shocked tears that wanted to fall. No one had ever treated her like this before.

"I know all about you and your parents, girl," Vernon hissed into her face. "I won't allow any of that funny business in my house, you understand?" He shook her a bit.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley gasped out.

"Do you? I don't want you putting any of that nonsense in my son's head. He's a good boy, he doesn't need to be influenced by you."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley repeated.

"If you put so much as one toe out of line you will learn to fear me, girl," Vernon said.

"That won't be necessary, Uncle Vernon," Hartley said. "I understand completely." And she did. Before, Hartley had never quite grasped that her aunt and uncle hated her for what she was. Now, she understood. She was a soldier in enemy territory, and no mistakes would be tolerated.

"Dudley doesn't know about your freakishness. I want it to stay that way," Vernon said.

"I understand, no mag-" Vernon shook her roughly, cutting her off mid-word.

"You are not to say that word!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley said.

Hartley Euphemia Potter had been living in the spare bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive for two weeks, and as of yet none of the neighbors had seen her.

"She's very distraught over my mother's death," Petunia told Mrs. Partridge. "Poor thing barely wants to eat; she never leaves her room. I'm sure it will pass soon."

"That's terrible," Mrs. Partridge sympathized. "This must be so draining on you, Petunia. I can't imagine how you're managing."

"Some days are harder than others," Petunia admitted. Looking down at her watch, Petunia realized she had been dallying too long. "I'm sorry, but I really must be going."

"Of course, of course. You must let me know if there's anything I can do."

Waving Petunia out through the door, Diana breathed a sigh of relief. That woman could talk like no one's business.

Last year Number Seven had gone up for sale, and Diana had pounced, buying it up immediately under an assumed name. Daisy Partridge was a muggle widow whose husband had died in the military. Diana had had a dream last year, of an older muggle woman with gracefully silvering red hair dying in a home invasion while a small girl clutched her, sobbing. The lightning bolt scar upon the girl's brow had left no question to her identity.

The dream had ended on a Hogwarts letter, addressed to Miss H Potter, the Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

It was almost like magic that Number Seven had gone up for sale that very week.

"You don't look so scary," Dudley declared.

Hartley bolted upright on her bed, turning on the lamp. Dudley closed her bedroom door behind him, coming to sit on the desk chair.

"I don't think your parents want us talking," Hartley said quietly, ears straining for any sound of her aunt and uncle in the house.

"I heard what you said to that old man with the beard. How is a little girl like you supposed to save the world? That's what parents are for," Dudley concluded.

"I haven't got any parents, that's why I'm here."

"You're going to tell me, or I'm going to scream," Dudley said.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to threaten ladies?" Hartley bit back without thinking. Seeing Dudley about to open his mouth, she continued on quickly. "I'm special, so it's got to be me who saves the world. No one else can do it."

"How come? There's lots of people bigger and stronger and tougher than you. They get one of the guys on the telly to do it. They're always saving the day," Dudley said.

"Can you keep a secret?" Hartley asked Dudley, already knowing in her heart of hearts that this was a beyond terrible idea and would no doubt blow in her face. "You can't tell anyone, not Piers or Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. No one can ever know, it'll be just our secret."

Dudley leaned in, enchanted, nodding furiously.

"You have to promise, and you have to mean it," Hartley said, holding out her pinkie to her cousin.

"I promise," Dudley said, linking their pinkies together.

They shook on it.

"Watch," Hartley whispered, regretting her decision already. Holding a hand out to the bookshelf she strained, frowning. Come on, she urged herself, and before their eyes one of the smaller books wiggled out a bit from the others. Come on! Pushing with that icy bit in her center, the book drifted, shakily, across the room, landing on the desk with a quiet thump.

Falling back on the bed, Hartley closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Moving things was much harder than she had anticipated, and that book had been small, barely more than a magazine. The effort made her want to sleep it off immediately. Opening her eyes, Hartley looked at her wide-eyed cousin.

"That's how I'm special," Hartley said.

"Can you do anything else?" Dudley asked, enthusiastically.

"I'm not sure yet," Hartley lied. "Maybe when I'm older."

"I saw someone do that on the telly once," Dudley enthused. "Daddy turned it off as soon as he saw what I was watching. There were a whole bunch of people, and they all had powers like that, and they saved the world. The other kids are always talking about it at school. Maybe you'll get laser vision!"

"Please remember, you promised not to tell anyone," Hartley said.

"How can you not want to show it off to everyone?" Dudley asked, flummoxed.

Hartley thought quickly.

"Well, if everyone knew what I could do, then it wouldn't be a secret. How am I supposed to save the world if the bad guys know where to find me?"

"I guess," Dudley agreed hesitantly. "But why can't my parents know?"

"They do know," Hartley said, before she realized what she said. "They just want to protect you. If you don't know, then no one can ever try to hurt you to make you tell them. So, you see, it will make your parents feel so much better if they think you don't know."

Hartley knew that it didn't quite all make sense, but she was trusting that Dudley wouldn't be able to work it out. Grandma Holly had once told her that people will believe almost anything if the person telling them acts confidently. It's why people at the store will pay for the wrong order, because the cashier is confident, so they thing assume it's really theirs.

Sitting back up, Hartley smiled warmly at her cousin. "I knew I could trust you." People liked feeling trusted.

Author's Note: So, yeah, this took a bit longer than expected. The final word count is 3,169. I got really stuck at the funeral. This is a breather chapter. Not all that much happens, but a few important things are established.

Hartley is a very different person from Harry, so she's handling things differently. As to Dudley… the cousins have had almost zero interaction. All he knows is that his parents think she's dangerous, and to a little kid sometimes that can seem really appealing. They're only eight. I don't think Dudley was anything more than a product of his environment. Right now he's more curious than anything. And as you might have noticed, Hartley is starting to manipulate people successfully.

Diana was surprising to me. I have her family tree drawn up, and I had assumed she was dead. But now I can see that she's going to be very important.

If you want to keep up to date as I write this story, and also see snippets of possible future events, please check out my tumblr. I post several times a day, usually, and I'm always glad to hear input as I develop the ideas for this story further.

My tumblr name is the same as on here, hrhprincesstricia, and the blog is called "Scribbles and Ramblings". Please do come visit. There's already a nice bit of posts on there about this story.

As always, please do share this story with anyone you think might enjoy it.

I'm in the process of making a cover for this story myself, but if you'd like to make one, I'd love to see it.

As to the letter from Grandma Holly, it has not been forgotten.

-HRHPrincessTricia