CHAPTER ONE:
THE GIRL WITH AN ORDINARY LIFE

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DAISY DURSLEY, OF NUMBER FOUR, PRIVET DRIVE, LIVED AN ABSOLUTELY ORDINARY LIFE.

She was the last person you'd expect to see involved in anything mysterious or magnificent. Her parents made sure of it.

With a spoiled brother, and bitter parents, she spent most of her time outside in the shed-turned-art-studio, painting her days away in a flurry. Her mother dotted, feeding her copious amounts of food and braiding her hair in small buns and crowns. She'd always been proud of "her little flower," hanging artwork and grades on the fridge.

Not that she had much to compete with. There were only two other children in the house, one of whom she loved very much, and the other with whom she'd hardly spoken.

Her brother, Dudley, was very loud and rambunctious, always begging for more food and more gifts. While she loved him dearly, he was her twin brother, after all, he had grown into a very nasty child and it grew harder and harder to be around him for more than a few hours at a time.

Their relationship developed into that of a stale friendship and their conversations ranged from video games to movies, but never anything important.

The other child — her cousin, lived in the cupboard under the stairs. His parents passed away when they were all children, in a terrible car accident, and her parents took him in.

Harry Potter wasn't exactly rude, but he wasn't nice very often either. Daisy and Harry didn't get along very well — their snarky remarks drowning each other out, while they competed daily for good marks in school.

Then again, Harry appeared to stop trying the last year, and Daisy had a feeling it had to do with her father.

Despite not enjoying her cousin's presence, she pitied him. Dudley and her parents resented Harry, constantly badgering him and hindering his social life.

Harry didn't have any friends at school — due to Dudley's bullying — and he wasn't allowed to do anything except cook and clean at home.

Honestly, she didn't envy him.

Daisy chewed on her bacon, nose wrinkling a bit as the grease coated her lips. She set it down on the plate with a light sigh, glancing around the room.

Harry stood in the kitchen, cooking eggs for her dad, Vernon reading the paper in the seat next to hers, and her brother on her other side, chomping away at his sausage. Petunia sipped an orange juice, smiling down at her daughter when their eyes connected.

Daisy's smile widened and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feeling the weight of it against her shoulders.

Unlike her family, she had long, wavy red hair. Her mother said she took after her aunt that way and their mother before that. Daisy was skinny like her mother, mostly skin and bones, and her cheekbones were high on her face. Teeth a bit disproportionate, she faced an endless battle against the mirror — and a hand always covering her smile.

Dudley took after their father, his hair was just as blonde and his body equally large. She often wondered why her metabolism was different than his, but genetics seemed to be the only conclusion.

"Harry," her father's voice started loudly. "Look here — you made Daisy's bacon all wrong. Fix it up or else."

Daisy shook her head. "No, Harry, I'm fine, thanks," she turned to her father. "Dad, I'm full. May I be excused?"

Her father frowned, considering it before he nodded. "Alright then. Harry — plates."

Daisy stood up quickly, kissing her mother and father's cheeks before rushing outside to the shed. She unlocked it quickly and took a deep breath, resolve flooding her body.

Rather than argue with Dudley or aimlessly waste time on games, she picked up a paintbrush and set up her paints.

Glancing up at the piece from the day before — a man with scars on his face and amber eyes — she dipped her brush and took another stroke to the picture, delicately adding shadows and details she'd missed prior.

Daisy didn't know where her ideas came from, the sketches and doodles turned into paintings. Oftentimes, she'd dream of strange people and bright colors, sketching them out the next day.

Recently, she'd found herself painting the same select people. A man with thin scars along his face and amber eyes, a sickly-looking man with a black mane for hair, and a green snake with red eyes.

For about a month, she had vivid dreams of these people and animals, their faces haunting her, mouths forming words she could never hear.

To get them out of her head, Daisy took to painting. She painted her dreams, her brother, her parents, and even Harry. She enjoyed painting Harry; his bright green eyes dominating the canvas. His emotions seemed to seep through the painting — fear, anxiety, hopelessness.

Daisy didn't see that look in his eyes all the time. Most often it was annoyance or frustration. But hardly hopelessness. His scar radiated against the painting next to her and she glanced at it, narrowing her eyes.

She'd painted him older, as though she knew what he'd look like. How strange. He had a crease between his eyebrows, and his hair was much longer.

Daisy sighed, taking another glance at the painting of the scarred man, a new tone of green on his robes. She bit her lip. Did it even look very good? She couldn't be sure.

The last time she'd asked her mother her opinion, Petunia had nearly had a panic attack, eyes bulging out of her head. Daisy had painted a castle, one she'd dreamt of for weeks on end, and she thought her mother would like it. Instead, her mother hid it in the attic and locked the door — in the assurance that Daisy wouldn't find it. After a week without painting, Daisy promised her mother she wouldn't paint the castle again and she was allowed to continue.

It had been a few months since then, and about one since school ended, so she spent almost all day in the shed. She and Dudley's birthday was only a day away, though Daisy couldn't believe it was happening already. She'd only asked for more art supplies and the Star Wars movies. (She'd asked for them five years in a row and yet, every year, her parents declined. They said it was too magical and whimsical -- and she wasn't allowed to watch them.) She'd only seen them once, at a friend's sleepover, but she'd been obsessed ever since.

Dudley asked for about a million things each year, but Daisy had never been very materialistic. She loved playing games with him and watching shows and movies -- but she'd never been a fan of stuff just sitting around her room.

Aside from her bookshelf and a couple of stuffed animals, she didn't have much lounging about. Her brother's room was filled almost to the brim with toys and games -- but Daisy didn't care much for any of that.

A knock on the shed interrupted her thoughts and Daisy turned, opening the door with a curious expression.

"Harry?" She questioned.

"Sorry, Daisy, Petunia needs you in the kitchen."

Daisy rolled her eyes, setting her paints down on the small table in the middle of the room. "Why?" She groaned. "Not like she's got anything important to say anyway."

Harry shrugged awkwardly, not knowing what to say before his eyes found a painting behind her. "Is that -- is that me?"

Daisy blinked, watching him for a moment as she tried to come up with an excuse. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she glanced back at it, nodding slowly. "Yep," she confirmed. "That's -- I --"

"--Hold on, why do I look so much older?" Harry asked, moving into the shed and up to the painting. "This is really good," he complimented, glancing back at her. "I always thought, well," his eyes fidgeted back to the painting. "I always thought you were just doodling or something. I never thought you could actually..." Harry reached a hand up to the painting, tracing the scar. "Why'd you paint me?"

Daisy bit her lip, fiddling with a button on her overalls. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I just...I get these dreams and, well, look around." She gestured with her hands around the shed and Harry watched her for a moment before looking around with wide eyes.

"You painted all of this?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they're -- they're really good, Daisy."

"Thanks."

Harry opened his mouth to say something else, his eyes fixed on a painting with different shades of green splashed along the canvas, but Petunia's voice shouted through the yard.

"Daisy! Hurry up, I've got something to show you!"

Daisy and Harry exchanged a look before he rushed from the shed and she shut the door, snapping the lockdown and hurrying inside.

"Mum? What is it?" She asked.

Petunia smiled, waving her to the kitchen and holding her hand out to a cake. "I made you an early birthday present. Red velvet and cream cheese frosting. I know you don't want to spend the day at the zoo with Duddy, so I thought we'd celebrate your birthday today."

Daisy's eyes widened and a smile filled her face. "Mum! Thank you!" She grabbed her mother in a tight hug and could barely contain her newfound excitement. "What're we doing today, then? If we're not going to the zoo."

"No, we're going to the zoo tomorrow," Petunia explained. "But today we can do whatever you'd like. I thought, perhaps, you'd like to go shopping with me while your dad's working? We can leave Dudley at home with Harry and we'll spend the whole day together."

Daisy's smile softened. Her mother's hopeful tone made her heart soar. Sometimes, she felt as though Dudley was the favorite, but in moments like these -- Daisy felt important and loved.

"Okay!" Daisy agreed excitedly. "I'm going to get ready, be right back." With a happy squeal, Daisy passed Harry, who stood against his cupboard, and upstairs.

☍︎︎

After Daisy and Petunia's shopping day, Daisy unpacked her clothes from the shopping bags and hung them up. Petunia bought her numerous dresses, a few sweaters for the winter season, and some new pants. She'd also begged for a new pair of overalls since her own was getting beat up at the knees, and her mother graciously agreed -- even purchasing a couple of extras.

Daisy finished rather quickly, glancing in the mirror and tucking her hands into her pockets. Her bright yellow and red striped t-shirt clashed against her pale skin, and she frowned, spotting the freckles along her arms and neck. She glanced away, taking a breath before heading out of the room.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, bumping into Dudley after she closed her bedroom door. "Sorry, Dudley."

He shrugged her off. "Did you and Mum go shopping?"

"Yeah, I got a ton of new clothes. You would've hated it."

Dudley nodded, a grimace tracing his cheeks. "Yeah, that sounds rubbish. I think they got me a pet, though. I heard them talking a few days ago about it."

Daisy raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms as a bemused expression flashed across her face. "Why would they get you a pet after the hamster two years ago? You thew it outside and it died, like, three days later."

Dudley rolled his eyes. "I couldn't help it!" He disagreed. "That stupid hamster looked at me funny and made me lose my game!"

Daisy shook her head. "You're not getting a pet. Five quid says so."

He snorted. "Do you even have five quid?"

Daisy shifted, eyeing the stairs. "Well, no, but -- shut up. You don't know my life."

Dudley laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her downstairs for dinner. Unfortunately for Daisy, she would never have a day like that again.

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