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Oct 21, 2020 1:35 AM
a niet goes to hogwarts
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This has been a very horrible, terrible, no good month.

It started on the day Harriet got a rather strange letter in the mail. She handed it over to her aunt and uncle, obedient. Did not try to open it. But it scared them. Angered them. They've been odd ever since.

Harriet hasn't tried to open a single one of the strange letters since, but her aunt and uncle are still rather cross. Especially since Harriet's Weirdness flared - Dudley got caught in a snake's pen, and Harriet accidentally released a snake after talking to it (it was a very nice snake, too, she hopes it can get home). Some of the letters caught on fire when she got stressed about them making Uncle Vernon mad.

Uncle Vernon was the one who decided on this trip. Fleeing the strange letters, somewhere he hopes nothing can find them. It's wet and windy and cold and miserable, and Harriet doesn't even get to go pet the neighborhood cats on her birthday.

It's midnight. She stays up for it, watching the clock.

Harriet blows out the dust candles on her dust cake.

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Something goes

B U M P

in the night.

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UM.

Harriet startles and withdraws into a corner, looking around for the source of the BUMP.

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BUMP

BUMP

BUMP

goes the, uh, front door.  Is that someone knocking on it?

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She does not want to be responsible for letting whatever that is in! She is going to Hide.

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Stock phrases aside it's really more of a BOOM, if the narration is honest.  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM - CRASH.

 - the hut no longer has a door.

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She claps her hands over her mouth to muffle her squeak. 

Dudley startles awake, too - and Vernon pounds down the stairs, shotgun ready, and shouts, "Who's there?" as Petunia peeks out from behind him.

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The person at the door is enormous - not just a large man, but giant, so big he has to stoop and sidle sideways through the door.  He's holding a flowery pink umbrella in one hand, and a knapsack in the other, both of which are perfectly respectable sizes for the objects they respectively are but look comically tiny in his hands.

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His eyes rove across the hut, and he spots the gun in Vernon's hand -

"Oi!"

he shouts, and lunges for him - and tears the gun out of his hands and - folds the barrel in half.

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!!!!!!!!!!!! (Excuse Harriet she is going to be TINY and NOT HERE).

Vernon shouts in surprise and anger, face rapidly purpling. "How dare you!"

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"Won't have you pulling Muggle weapons on me, Dursley," the giant growls, pointing the butt of the shotgun at him reprovingly.  "I'm here because little Harriet hasn't been replying to her letters.  'Spect you lot have something to do with that."

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What. Is she in trouble for that. Why is she always in trouble.

"I won't have her associated with that freakishness!" Petunia snaps, stepping forward. "And how dare you come around here, after your lot got her mother killed - "

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"My lot?" the giant roars.  "I oughtta skewer you with this!"  He waves his umbrella.  "It were my lot trying to protect her from the Death Eaters!  Now you tell me where you're keeping little Harriet!"

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She shouldn't reveal herself. She doesn't know what's going on and the man is scary and the Dursleys will get mad - (She whimpers a bit.)

Petunia just insults the giant.

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He snorts at her derisively and turns away, shoving Vernon's ruined gun into a giant pocket of his giant-sized overcoat.

"Harriet?" he calls.  "Come on out, you're not in any trouble.  Not gonna let this lot do anything to you."

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Harriet shakes her head, quietly.

Some things around the shack start rattling. A bulb breaks in a shower of glass.

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"Harriet?" the man says - warily, but sort of... bracingly.  "If you can hear me... I'm sorry if I scared yeh.  It's your aunt and uncle I'm mad at, not you."

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Maybe if she comes out he won't be mad???

Harriet slowly slinks out of the corner.

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"Are you Harriet?" the man says.  "Merlin, you're a tiny little thing.  What've they been feeding yeh?"

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"...Food."

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"I certainly hope so," he chuckles.  "Speakin' of food - "

He stows his umbrella under one arm, and stuffs his newly free hand into his knapsack, deeper than it looks like it should fit; and pulls out a flimsy-looking white cardboard box, tied with a bright blue bow, surprisingly unbattered for having been stuffed in a knapsack.  He holds it out to her.

"Baked this myself," he says proudly.  "It's your birthday today, innit?  Happy birthday, Harriet."

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...

She starts crying, quietly.

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Oh Dear.

He sets Harriet's cake down on the floor beside her, and puts a hand on her back, and pats her shoulder.  (He is so large, and she so small, that this is best accomplished with the thumb of the same hand.  Were the discrepancy in their sizes any less, he'd try going in for a hug.)

"There there," he says quietly.  "It'll be all right."

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She tries really hard to stop crying. This is not very effective.

(She is scared and confused, mostly, and also having a weird sort of emotional rollercoaster). 

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"...did you even get to read your letter?" the man asks. "Did they tell you anything about...?"

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