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Assistant: Title: Victoria Potter and the Houses of Hogwarts
        Author: NitwitBlubberOddmentTweak NitwitBlubberOddmentTweak 
        Chapter: 2/17 
        Summary: Victoria Potter had always known she was different. No matter how hard her Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia tried to pretend otherwise, she could do things they couldn’t, and see things they wouldn’t.It was only when Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School came to visit that she realised just how different she was. Sorted into Slytherin, in her first year at Hogwarts school she would find true friends, learn magic, and discover the secrets of the Houses of Hogwarts.Magically talented, Slytherin fem!Harry. AU world with a canonical tone. No rehash of the stations of canon. No bashing. No kid politicians. No 11-year-old romances.
        Contents: Chapter 2: The Man at the Ball
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Ten long years passed, and yet Hidebound House barely changed at all. The extensive gardens still blossomed, the stone walls of the house were still covered with ivy, and the latest model from Mercedes could still be found parked in the garage. But for all that the house had stayed the same, the life of the inhabitants had transformed beyond recognition.Family photographs which had once depicted two young parents holding a chubby baby boy were now home to four figures. The baby boy had become a rather spherical eleven-year-old with no neck and a splotchy complexion. Vernon had also put on weight, his moustache growing thicker as if it had to keep up with his waistline. Petunia, meanwhile, was as thin and long-necked as ever, but her blonde hair was now dyed to hide the faint beginnings of grey.The fourth figure in the photographs was Victoria. A pretty girl with long black hair and bright green eyes, she could be seen standing slightly to the side in every photo, as if she didn’t quite belong. The scar which had once marred her forehead was nowhere to be seen, and her unblemished skin gave off a healthy glow hinting at long hours spent in the garden.It was there that she was to be found one sunny afternoon in the summer of 1991. Victoria loved the garden; it was by far her favourite part of the house, and she knew the names of every flower, tree and bush it contained. She loved the sweet scent which came from the winding hedges full of pink roses. She loved the pond at the far end of the garden, water lilies floating at its centre. Perhaps most importantly of all, she loved that her annoying cousin Dudley rarely ventured far enough from a television to find her there.She would have liked to help the gardener who visited twice a week with his planting, pruning and mowing, but Petunia strictly forbade it. Apparently gardening was not an appropriate pastime for young ladies, running the risk of muddy knees and grass stains on dresses, so Victoria was forced to enjoy herself in other ways—ways that Petunia didn’t know about.
  “Victoria! Where are you?”
Victoria ignored Petunia’s calls. She was deep within the garden and could easily pretend that she hadn’t heard her aunt, who was all the way back in the house. Instead, she continued her mission of convincing the white jasmine to give her one of its flowers.“I’m going to London tonight and it’s very important,” she explained, speaking to the mass of star-shaped flowers which grew up and around a latticed archway. “I just know I’d be the prettiest girl there if you gave me a flower. You have so many to spare… please could I have one?”She paused, waiting to see if the plant would answer, and sure enough a single white flower floated down from the top of the arch, landing gently in her outstretched palm.“Thank you.”With well-practiced familiarity, Victoria took the flower and rubbed it between her wrists, releasing an unusually powerful burst of fragrance. She would smell of jasmine for hours to come, fresher and more durable than any perfume from the shops.She honestly couldn’t remember when she had first realised that she could make things happen that other people couldn’t. For as long as her memories went back, she had been doing things that just seemed natural to her. Wasn’t it obvious that if you tied a feather to an object, you could make it float? And wasn’t it clear as day that if you clapped at a candle, you might startle it into lighting?It had taken her longer to understand that she was different—that other people didn’t see the world the same way. As she had grown older, she had started to learn how the world was supposed to work, but even now she struggled to tell what was normal and what wasn’t. Of course, she had long since learnt to keep her thoughts to herself, because the Dursleys would get angry whenever she said something unnatural, and the girls at school would just laugh at her like she was an idiot.Silly Vicky, they called her, all condescending smiles and amused looks that they thought she didn’t notice. It made her feel like she was an idiot.Victoria hated feeling like an idiot. She knew she wasn’t—she always got top marks in English, History, Geography, and French, and she could remember things she’d been told years ago without even having to think about it. But she was bottom of the class in Science and Maths, falling so far behind that the school had written several letters to the Dursleys about it.It was all very unjust in Victoria’s option. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Miss Grimshaw didn’t know that the number seven refused to be divided. And how could she be blamed if Mr Bradley didn’t understand that plants grew because the wind sang to them?“Victoria! There you are!”Petunia came down the garden path, dressed in a light blue evening gown and wearing her best jewellery. She was clutching a pair of high heels in one hand, and the other was holding up the long skirt of her dress to prevent it from dragging on the grass.Petunia cried with dismay when she got a proper look at Victoria. “Oh, just look at you! You’re not even close to being ready. Quickly now! Up to the house, washed and dressed before six!”“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”She traipsed back up to the house, collecting a fresh towel from the airing cupboard and making her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall—she was the only member of the family not to have an en suite. She showered as quickly as she could, making sure to avoid getting her hair wet, but once she was dry she ended up wasting a lot of time trying to decide which dress to wear.It wasn’t that she had too few clothes. Wardrobes took up one full side of her bedroom, and it wasn’t a small bedroom either. Littered with piles of books and with a large double bed at its centre, the walls were painted a pale pink and a large bay window looked out onto the garden.No, the problem was too much choice. Eventually, she decided to ignore the blue dress which Petunia had laid out on her bed and selected a dark green dress with short sleeves and a long skirt. She would have preferred to wear a lighter summer dress, given the summer heat, but she knew that Petunia wouldn’t allow it. One did not wear summer dresses to formal events.Victoria slipped the dress over her head and took in her appearance in a full-length mirror. The dress was fine, but her hair was a mess. She scrunched up her nose and pushed, as if to pop her ears. Suddenly her hair was alive: it straightened with a wiggle, and then began to braid itself into two fine Dutch braids, which tied around the back of her head like a circlet.Yes, that would do nicely, she thought as she examined her reflection. She was sure that none of the other girls would have done their hair in anything so complicated a style, and she was bound to get at least a few compliments for it. After all, a normal girl would have needed hours to get it right.She had first discovered this ability when she was seven-years-old, after returning from the hairdresser with a terrible haircut. In a moment of extreme regret her hair had restored itself to its previous style, as if by magic. The Dursleys had tried to pretend it never happened, as they did every time something unnatural happened around her, but Victoria didn’t forget.The ability seemed to grow as she did. By the time she was nine, she could change almost anything about how she looked on the surface. That was why her hair grew straight without her needing to brush it, and it was why her skin kept a healthy tan throughout the winter. She'd even made her nose cuter, making it narrower and giving it a slight upturn at the end. Deeper changes, however, were much more difficult. Try as she might, she couldn’t make herself taller. In fact, it had taken all her concentration and effort just to remove the scar from her forehead.Her musings were interrupted by Petunia’s shrill voice.“VICTORIA! ARE YOU READY YET?”She slipped on her pumps and hurried downstairs to find the Dursleys waiting in the entrance hall. Vernon and Dudley were wearing identical dinner suits, their shoes gleaming with polish, and Petunia had found the time to put her high heels on.If Victoria had been hoping for compliments from her family, she was to be disappointed. Petunia’s eyes narrowed as she took in the green dress. “That’s not the one I laid out,” she said snippily. “Didn’t you see it?”Victoria looked down at her dress. “This one’s my favourite.”“Yes, but you wore it last month already.” Petunia sighed. “Well, it’s too late to change now! Just don’t come crying to me if someone notices. You can lead a horse to water...”Vernon checked his watch. “Just so, Pet. Best be off now, or we’ll be late.”They got into the Mercedes and started the drive into London. Their destination was a prestigious event: the Black and White Ball, a political fundraiser packed with government ministers, including the Prime Minister himself. Vernon had paid through the nose for tickets and had big plans for the evening.“Now remember, we’re here for a reason,” Vernon said as they passed through Richmond. “The government has approved an extension of the Jubilee Line, and if Grunnings could supply the drills for the tunnelling, it’d be quite the feather in our cap. But to do that, we need to make a good impression with the Minister for Transport. Petunia?” “I’m to speak to the Minister’s wife,” Petunia said. “Their son has recently got into Oxford and she’s very proud.”“Good,” Vernon said. “Dudley?”“I’ll be with you,” Dudley said. “I’m going to tell everyone how much I’m looking forward to Smeltings next year.”“Atta boy,” Vernon said. “The Minister went to Smeltings too, so that’s a foot in the door for us. And you, Victoria?”She sighed. “I’m to stay out of the way, look pretty, and remember that I should be seen and not heard.”Vernon nodded. “That’s right. What do we always say?”“Children should speak only when spoken to,” Victoria recited. She didn’t bother to point out the obvious contradiction in their rules—the fact that Dudley was going to be speaking to adults all night. Victoria had long-since learnt that objecting never got her anywhere.“And you’ll do well to remember it,” Vernon said. “Now, what do you say if someone does speak to you?”She rolled her eyes, safe in the knowledge that Vernon couldn’t see her in the back of the car. “I’ll tell them how generous you are, and how grateful I am that you took me in after my parents died in a car crash.”“And above all?”“I’m not to say anything weird or unnatural.”“D@mn right,” Vernon said. “This evening’s far too important for you to mess it up, so just keep to yourself and be thankful we’re bringing you at all.”Lecture finished, the car returned to silence. They arrived at the venue not long after that, a fancy Mayfair hotel built in the Georgian style, with smartly dressed ushers by the door to guide them towards the ballroom. The hotel was already filled with guests, all of them elegantly dressed, the men in dinner suits like Vernon and Dudley, the women wearing gowns in every colour imaginable.Once Vernon and Petunia had armed themselves with flutes of champagne, they then engaged in the most boring of adult activities imaginable: mingling. Victoria was forced to follow them around as they greeted one acquaintance after another, filling the time with pointless small talk.
  “Hasn’t the weather been lovely this summer?”

  “How’s business?”

  “Will you get some time off this year?”
It was almost enough to make her wish she’d been left at home. Worse than the boredom, however, was the repeated indignity of being introduced to strangers. It always went exactly the same way.“Our son, Dudley,” Vernon would begin, resting his hand on Dudley’s shoulder with a proud smile. “He’ll be off to Smeltings in September. Like father like son, eh, Dudders?”Everyone would then exchange comments about how much fun Dudley would have at school, just like they had when they had been young. Inevitably, however, eyes would eventually turn to Victoria.“And who is this lovely young lady? Your daughter?”“Our niece,” Petunia would respond, always quick with the correction. “Lost her parents when she was a baby, the poor thing.”Appropriate sounds of sympathy would follow, and if she was lucky they’d leave the topic behind to discuss something boring, like how tasteful the decorations were. But sometimes, they would ask more.“And where will you be going in September, Victoria?”Vernon never let her answer for herself. Her job was to smile and look pretty, not to speak.“It’ll be the local comp for her, I’m afraid. Not the brightest tool in the shed, if you catch my drift. A grammar school would’ve been ideal, but fat chance of her passing the Eleven Plus, eh, Petunia?”It was a relief when they were finally shepherded to their tables for dinner. Unfortunately, Victoria’s hopes for a proper meal were soon dashed: an army of waiters delivered a succession of courses to the tables, each plate serving up a tiny portion full of bizarre ingredients she’d never heard of, and there seemed to be all sorts of rules about which piece of cutlery you were supposed to use for each one. She tried to copy Petunia, but even she seemed to be baffled by the array of knives and forks on offer—of the Dursleys, only Vernon seemed to know what he was doing.It was just before dessert that disaster struck.“Is there no more red wine?” asked Mrs Williams, sitting next to Vernon. There was an empty bottle in her hand.Vernon peered at an equally empty bottle of white wine. “No more of anything!”“They’ll have extra at the bar,” Petunia said. “Victoria can go and get some.” She gave Victoria a don’t-argue-with-me look. “Won’t you, dear?”“Fine.”Victoria slipped away from the table, hoping that she wouldn’t miss dessert, and wound her way through the ballroom towards the bar at the far side of the room. She was surprised to find a man sitting there, nursing a tumbler of golden liquid—even she knew that it wasn’t polite to get up during dinner. He was an older man, too old to call him middle-aged, but not yet old enough to count as elderly, with long sideburns and rosy cheeks. The fact that he was sitting at the bar was not his only breach of decorum, however. He was dressed rather oddly too, wearing a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat.“Excuse me?” Victoria asked, ignoring the man in the bowler hat to draw the barman’s attention. He had to lean forwards to see her properly; the bar was as tall as she was. “May I have some more wine, please? Um, red and white.”The man in the bowler hat chuckled, turning to look at her with a strangely paternal expression. “A bit young for wine, aren’t you?”She felt her face heat up with embarrassment. “Oh! No, it’s not for me! It’s for my uncle and aunt and Mrs Williams. They’ve run out, you see.”The barman looked uncertain. “I’m not supposed to…”“Please?” Victoria asked, batting her eyelashes and focusing on his eyes. A familiar thrill rushed through her, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. “My aunt won’t be happy if I come back with nothing.”The barman blinked several times. When his eyes focused once more, he was rather more compliant. “Of course, Miss. I’ll fetch some from the kitchen straight away.”He departed through a swinging door, leaving Victoria alone with the man in the bowler hat, who watched the barman’s retreating back with interest.“I shall pretend I didn’t see that,” he said once the barman was gone. He gave her a wink. “A most impressive display for one your age, I admit. But perhaps it is not surprising, given who you are.”Victoria frowned. Had he somehow realised what she’d done to the barman? And what did he mean, who she was?“Do I, um, know you?”The man raised his bushy eyebrows. “Forgive me, I assumed you knew. I am <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>.” He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”Victoria gave his hand a confused shake. “I’m Victoria. Victoria—”“—Potter.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “But of course you are.”The fact that he knew her name did not dispel her confusion. “Are you one of my uncle’s friends?” she asked, and as she did, a horrible thought occurred to her. “You’re not—you’re not the Minister, are you?”“At your service,” Cornelius said, giving her a short bow.Victoria’s heart sank. Vernon would be furious if he found out that she’d spoken to the Minister for Transport before him. The best she could do was try to make a good impression.“Uncle Vernon’s very good at making drills,” she declared earnestly. “And, um, I’m very grateful that he took me in after my parents died in a car crash. The Dursleys are very generous. And, oh! Uncle Vernon would really like to talk with you. I probably should have said that first...”Now it was Cornelius who looked confused. “Car crash? What on earth do you mean?”She wasn’t sure how she could spell it out more clearly. Was he a bit simple, perhaps? “My parents died when I was little. In a car crash. So, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia took me in.”If anything, her words just seemed to distress the Minister more.“A car crash?” he repeated, his face going red. And then he said something very interesting indeed. “My dear, your parents did not die in a car crash. They were—”“Fudge? Is that you?”The man who had interrupted was tall, with chunky glasses and grey hair. He was dressed like every other man there except for Cornelius, in a dinner suit with a bow tie, but that didn’t stop Victoria from recognising him. Even ten-year-old girls knew who the Prime Minister was.Vernon was going to be so angry.“It is you,” the Prime Minister said, and the tone of his voice suggested that Cornelius’ presence was not entirely welcome. “What on earth are you doing here?”“I believe you sent an invitation?” Cornelius said mildly. “I thought I might use the occasion to meet someone important.”The Prime Minister frowned. “If you had wanted to speak with me, you could have simply arranged a meeting in my office. I don’t see why—”“Apologies, Prime Minister,” Cornelius said, “but I wasn’t talking about you.”The Prime Minister took a moment to absorb the insult, his face turning slightly pink. “Well, if not me, then who?” he asked, before a look of realisation crossed his face. He looked around nervously. “There aren’t more of your lot here, are there?”Cornelius smiled. “Just the one, Prime Minister.” He nodded in Victoria’s direction, and suddenly she found herself the sole focus of the most important man in Britain. “Meet Victoria Potter.”The Prime Minister glanced at Cornelius. “The Victoria Potter? The one you told me about?”“The very same.”“Ah. I see. Well then—” the Prime Minister stooped over so that he was closer to Victoria’s height “—it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Potter. We are all in your debt.” And then he held out his hand.Victoria shook it, more confused than ever, her mind still reeling from Cornelius’ statement about her parents. Meeting the Prime Minister was very important, of course, but she couldn’t just let that go.“Sorry,” she said, catching Cornelius’ eye over the Prime Minister’s shoulder. “But what did you mean about my parents not dying in a car crash?”The Prime Minister frowned, glancing back at Cornelius. “But surely she must know?”“It seems not,” Cornelius said. “Victoria, your parents were—”“Prime Minister!”Victoria spun around at the sound of Vernon’s voice; he was approaching with Petunia in tow, the two of them striding towards the bar with purpose.“So pleased to meet you, Prime Minister,” Vernon said, jutting out his hand, which the Prime Minister shook by instinct. “I see you’ve met my niece—I do hope she wasn’t bothering you!”“No, not at all,” the Prime Minister said. “We were just—”“Splendid!” Vernon said, still shaking the Prime Minister’s hand vigorously. “She’s got a very active imagination, you know—comes out with complete nonsense sometimes! But enough about that.” He jerked his head at Petunia, who seized Victoria firmly by the shoulders and began to steer her away. “I was meaning to have a conversation with your Minister for Transport…”“Wait!” Victoria cried, trying to turn in Petunia’s grip, so desperate to hear what Cornelius had to say that she was willing to risk punishment. “I wanted to know—”“Quiet!” Petunia hissed, and her nails dug painfully into Victoria’s shoulders. She didn’t stop moving, continuing to pull Victoria back towards the tables, away from Cornelius, the Prime Minister, and Vernon. Victoria tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she wasn’t strong enough. “The PM doesn’t want to speak to little girls! What do we always say?”Victoria clenched her jaw in frustration, wanting to scream but knowing that it wouldn’t help. “Children should be seen and not heard.”They were well away from the others by now; she couldn’t even hear their voices.“That’s right,” Petunia said. “We won’t be hearing another peep from you tonight, young lady. Mark my words, you’re in serious trouble.”'
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