I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

I've seen a couple of these stories floating around and thought I'd give it a shot.

The Girl-Who-Lived

A hard, insistent pounding on her cupboard door roused Charlotte Potter from a deep slumber. The roar of a motorbike still echoed in her ears, though no one in their neighbourhood owned one, and there was still a flash of green light lingering in her sleep-hazed vision. Shoving the wool blanket off her thin, lanky body, Charlie sat up and scrubbed at her eyes until the blurriness dissolved.

Geez. Another weird dream.

"Wake up, girl! It's time for you to make breakfast!" snapped Petunia from the other side of the small square door. "You won't keep Dudley waiting on his special day!"

The ten-year-old rolled her bright green eyes. In the Dursley household, every day was a special day for her cousin as far as she was concerned. Her aunt and uncle always gave him everything he wanted. The only difference was that he got twice as much stuff on his birthday.

"I'll be right out!" she called.

"You should have been up already!" her aunt said irritably.

"I don't exactly have an alarm clock in here."

"Don't get snippy with me. You have five minutes or else."

Charlie got into a kneeling position, careful not to bang her head off the low ceiling. She wrestled a T-shirt and a pair of jeans out of the box stuffed in the corner. They were both far too big for her but the Dursleys didn't see any reason to buy her new clothes. They thought Dudley's hand-me-downs were more than enough.

If she had been Dudley's height and weight, she wouldn't have too many complaints. But Dudley was fat and she wasn't. The shirt hung off her like saggy elephant skin and she had to loop his old belt twice around her waist in order to secure the jeans to her body.

She took the elastic that was wrapped around her wrist and used it to tie up her long raven hair. Her bangs covered her most unique feature—the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead. She nudged open her bedroom door and stepped into the front hall, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet.

She supposed a cupboard under the stairs wasn't technically a bedroom, but it was as close as she was going to get for the time being. She scratched at a new spider bite on her arm and shuffled her way into the kitchen, where her only living relatives were gathered.

Charlie knew her parents had died in a car crash when she was a baby. But that was all she knew about them, as it was the only question Petunia and Vernon were willing to answer. Anything else sent them into a foul mood. She learned pretty quickly not to mention her parents. Whoever they were, Petunia and Vernon disliked them immensely. She could only guess that was the reason why they disliked her. She often wondered what had occurred to make Petunia hate Lily, her sister and Charlie's mother, so much.

"Are you going to stand there like a useless lump or are you going to start on the bacon?"

Vernon's voice jolted Charlie out of her thoughts. She went over to the stove and grabbed a frying pan. She opened the package of bacon and tossed it into the pan, where they soon started to sizzle.

As she absent-mindedly pushed the meat around with a spatula, she said, "Happy birthday, Dudley."

"Did you get me a present?" he demanded, turning away from the small television resting on the table to glare at the back of her head.

She didn't get an allowance. But she did manage to earn a little bit of money raking leaves and doing odd-jobs for the neighbours. Her aunt and uncle usually hated it when she interacted with their neighbours, thinking she would soil their image. They probably would have put a stop to it if she didn't use the money to pay for necessary items like school supplies. Dudley's torn and ripped binders just didn't cut it, and the less they had to spend on her the better.

She was currently saving up for an alarm clock, but a chunk of her earnings had been used to buy Dudley a stash of comic books. She wasn't required to get him a birthday present. They certainly never acknowledged her birthday. And not once in her short life had she seen a single Christmas present. But she didn't mind. She lived with the Dursleys long enough to stop taking things personally.

"Yeah," she answered. "It's in the pile."

"It better not be a garbage gift," said Dudley with a scowl.

Her shoulders lifting in a shrug, she replied, "I guess that's up to you."

Eventually she finished making breakfast and Charlie scooped the bacon, eggs and sausages onto four plates. Aware of Vernon's intense stare she made sure she had the least amount of food on hers. She set them on the table and lowered her plate into her lap. Petunia was bringing the presents from the living room to set in the center of the table. As Dudley's eyes locked onto each brightly-wrapped package, Charlie prepared herself for the outburst.

When the last present was carefully set down, Dudley frowned. "There's only thirty-six presents here."

"Thirty-seven," corrected Charlie. She grunted when Vernon cuffed the back of her head. "What?" she defended against his accusing scowl. "I didn't touch anything."

But Dudley didn't seem to care about the possibility that she had touched his precious gifts. "That's less than last year!" he cried. "How could you do this to me?"

That's more than I've ever gotten in my whole life, thought Charlie, dropping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

At the great tears that built in her son's eyes, Petunia rushed to put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Don't cry, Duddikins! I'll take you to the toy store and you can pick out three more."

Dudley furrowed his brow as he tried to work it out. "So that'll be…"

"Forty," supplied Charlie, letting out a startled hiss when Vernon cuffed her again.

"That's better," said Dudley in satisfaction.

Most of the morning was spent watching Dudley open his gifts. Wrapping paper littered the tiled floor and gleaming, shiny new toys surrounded his chair. Dudley came across Charlie's gift, wrapped in old newspaper. When they all glared at her, Charlie held out her hands defensively.

"You wouldn't give me any wrapping paper!"

"Of course not! You didn't purchase it," snapped Vernon. "You should have gone to get some yourself! I know you have some money. You weeded Mr. Travers' garden two days ago."

"What am I going to do with a whole roll of wrapping paper?" asked Charlie in exasperation.

Dudley let out a derisive scoff. He was tempted to toss it right in the trash, but his greedy nature won out. He tore off the paper to reveal the colourful covers of brand-new comic books. Though Dudley didn't read, his friends collected them, and the issues Charlie had gotten him his friends did not have.

"At least it's better than last year's," said Dudley snidely, tossing them to the floor.

The gift she had gotten him last year was a themed notebook, based off of his favourite television show. She knew it was stashed in his nightstand table, the pages filled with doodles. She sometimes came across interesting things when she snooped around the house when her relatives left her alone.

The trill of the phone cut through the air and Petunia hurried to answer it. She returned a minute later, ire on her features. "I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said grimly. "Mrs. Figg is laid up at home, nursing a broken leg. I knew hoarding all those cats would just bring her trouble."

Though initially relieved she wouldn't have to spend an afternoon covered in cat hair and eating stale cookies, Charlie frowned in concern. "Will she be okay?"

Ignoring her, as they often did, Petunia and Vernon worked to think of an alternative solution. "We could give Marge a call," suggested Vernon.

Charlie could feel her breakfast start to creep back up. No, no, I'd much rather be babysat by Mrs. Figg. Anyone but Aunt Marge.

"Don't be silly. Marge hates the girl," Petunia dismissed.

Well, I'm not fond of her either. The last time she visited her stupid dog ran me up a tree.

"I can just stay here," she offered. It wasn't often she got to stay home alone, and not because she technically wasn't old enough. The Dursleys didn't trust her, as they thought she tampered with their stuff while they were out. They weren't wrong. She was already envisioning the shows she could watch in peaceful silence.

But Petunia dashed her hopes by saying, "And make a mess of my beautiful house? I think not!"

What exactly do they think I'm capable of? Charlie thought irritably. They've left me alone before and everything was fine.

Well, maybe not completely fine. She did break a vase once. She'd been playing one of Dudley's video games and had gotten frustrated with a difficult level. The lavender porcelain just shattered without her touching it. She had expected them to completely flip when they got home, but Vernon merely shunted her to her cupboard when she explained what happened, his round face rather pale.

Horrified by the prospect of his cousin tagging along on his birthday celebration, Dudley burst into tears. "Nooooo! I don't want her to come!"

Tears usually got him what he wanted but on this rare occasion it didn't work. As Petunia tried to calm her son, Vernon sent Charlie a hard look. "You will do nothing to ruin his day," he growled. "You will stay quiet and stay in line. Do you hear me?"

"Yes sir," answered Charlie promptly.

Spending time with her relatives was unappealing but she'd never been to the zoo before. If she stayed out of their way the day shouldn't go too horribly. She didn't know why Vernon thought she would attempt to spoil Dudley's birthday. Even if they treated her birthday as nonexistent, she wasn't vindictive.

What could possibly go wrong?

...

Piers Polkiss had been Dudley's best friend for as long as Charlie could remember. Charlie didn't have any friends. Her classmates were scared off by Dudley, who was determined to make her life miserable. He and his gang took joy in chasing her but they never quite managed to catch her. She was too fast for them.

She once appeared on the school's roof when she'd been running across the field as she tried to escape them. The caretaker heard her pounding on the roof's door and rescued her. Vernon came to pick her up and he had the same expression on his face as the day he heard how the vase had broken.

Smack!

Charlie grunted as her face slammed into the glass window. Dudley held her there, snickering as Piers pulled on her hair. In an attempt to ignore them she stared out the window, watching the cars blur past. As a motorcycle roared by, she remarked unthinkingly, "I dreamt about a flying motorcycle last night."

Her head jolted and cracked against the window once again as Vernon slammed on the brakes. Ignoring the angry blast of the car horn behind him, he whirled around. "Flying motorbikes aren't real!" he barked, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

Utterly bewildered by this reaction, Charlie replied, "I know. It was just a dream."

"Don't say anymore about it," said Vernon tightly.

The car continued on its way and Charlie had half a mind to mention the strange green light that always flashed before her eyes in slumber. But the other half of her mind told her it would be a very stupid idea. Eyeing the back of Vernon's head, Charlie frowned.

Okay…that was odd.

She didn't get much time to dwell on it, for they arrived at the zoo. Dudley and Piers raced ahead, shoving their way through the crowd. Charlie shuffled behind them, keeping her distance as they wandered from exhibit to exhibit. She peeked at the information plaques while Dudley and Piers called out rude things to the animals in their pens.

Halfway through the day they stopped by an ice-cream cart. Piers and Dudley got triple-scoop cones and before Petunia could usher them away, the lady turned to face Charlie.

"What will you have, dear?" she asked kindly.

Eyes wide, Charlie darted her gaze to her uncle. Though his eyes were narrowed in displeasure, he gave a curt nod of the head. Slightly tempted to make him splurge on another triple-scoop, her logical side won and she chose the safe route.

"I'll have the lemon ice-lolly please."

It was the cheapest treat on the menu and Vernon looked less put out as he handed over some coins. "Thanks," she said, taking a lick and enjoying the sweet and sour flavour.

"Don't get used to it," he said gruffly.

Their next destination was the reptile house. Dudley and Piers hammered on the glass of the habitat of a large python, trying to make it move. But the python wasn't cooperating and the two boys eventually slunk off.

Shaking her head, Charlie approached the glass. "Sorry about that. But on the bright side, I'm sure he's the worst you'll see today. And you don't have to live with him."

The snake slowly rose up, its eyes staring directly at her. It tilted his head and nodded. Blinking, Charlie wondered if she was imagining things. The snake was still peering at her, almost in sympathy.

I've gone mad.

The snake jerked its head toward Dudley, who was now harassing a different snake. Having a good idea of what it was wondering, Charlie shrugged. "It's not horrible. I find ways to make it through." She peeked at the sign next to the glass. "I see your species is native to Brazil. But you were born in captivity. Does that mean you've never been?"

The snake gave a somber shake of its head.

I'm talking to a snake.

It was utterly absurd. But she didn't get a chance to properly process the situation. The second Dudley noticed the python moving, he lumbered over and shoved her out of the way. "Piers, come here! The stupid thing is finally moving!"

He slammed his fist hard against the glass and the snake flinched back. Charlie snapped a glare towards her cousin, anger rising within her. "Hey! You're scaring it! Leave the python alone!"

Dudley shifted his chin to glare at her. Before he could make a retort, the glass suddenly vanished, sending him toppling into the exhibit. He splashed into the water, spluttering in terror as the snake moved by him and into the main building.

"Thankssss," it hissed before slithering to freedom.

People screamed and ran as they noticed the massive snake come their way. Charlie was frozen to the floor in shock. I heard the snake talk. The snake talked to me. I talked to a snake. What the heck is going on?

Something solid grabbed the collar of her shirt and yanked her to her feet. Vernon, his face purple, lugged her off without a word. Petunia pulled Dudley out of the snake habitat, hysteria in her voice as she checked him over.

I'm not leaving my cupboard for a long time, Charlie thought wearily.