Chapter 2
“They broke her, and in doing so, they built a monster who wore her face.”
Harriet Potter had always been a light sleeper, a trait honed from years of surviving in a hostile environment.The sharp, insistent banging on the cupboard door jolted her awake, her emerald eyes snapping open to the dim confines of her so-called bedroom.The muffled voice of her cousin, Dudley, pierced through the wooden barrier.
"Wake up, you freak! We're going to the zoo!"
The derogatory term, once a source of pain, now elicited a slow, predatory smile from Harriet.She raised her hands before her face, turning them over as if confirming their existence.The smooth skin, the slender fingers—everything was as it should be.
"I'm back..." she whispered, the words barely audible.
As the reality settled in, her smile transformed, taking on a darker edge.
"I'm back," she repeated, her tone laced with a chilling malice.
Rising from the thin, tattered mattress that served as her bed, Harriet glanced down at the oversized, worn-out clothes hanging loosely on her petite frame.A look of distaste crossed her features.With a mere wave of her hand, the garments shimmered and morphed into a tailored ensemble—a crisp white blouse and well-fitted black trousers—that spoke of both elegance and authority.
Satisfied, she stepped out of the cupboard, her movements fluid and deliberate.The creaking of the door seemed louder than usual, echoing in the silent hallway.Her bare feet made no sound against the cold wooden floor as she made her way to the kitchen, drawn by the faint clatter of dishes and the unmistakable presence of her aunt.
Petunia Dursley, a woman whose equine features were perpetually set in a pinched expression, turned from the sink at the sound of approaching footsteps.Her eyes widened in surprise and suspicion as they took in Harriet's transformed appearance.
"You... Where did you get those clothes?" Petunia's voice quivered slightly, betraying her unease.
Before she could utter another word, an unseen force seized her.Her body moved against her will, feet dragging across the linoleum as she was compelled into the living room where Vernon and Dudley lounged, engrossed in the blaring television.Panic flared in her eyes as she realized she had no control over her own movements.
Harriet followed closely, her emerald gaze cold and unfeeling.She released Petunia from the invisible grip, watching impassively as the woman stumbled, regaining her balance with a gasp.
"YOU FREAK!" Petunia's shrill voice shattered the relative calm. "What did you just do?!"
Vernon Dursley, a man whose girth was rivaled only by his bluster, turned his attention to the commotion, his ruddy face contorting in confusion and anger.
"What's going on here, Pet?" he demanded, his small eyes narrowing as they landed on Harriet.
Dudley, ever the opportunist when it came to his cousin's misfortunes, chimed in with a gleeful sneer.
"Did the freak mess up again, Mum?"
Harriet's gaze flicked to her cousin, taking in his smug expression, the way his pudgy fingers clutched a half-eaten chocolate bar, smudges of melted confection staining his chubby cheeks.Disgust curled in her stomach, but she suppressed it, her face remaining an unreadable mask.
Vernon heaved himself up from his armchair, the effort causing his face to flush an even deeper shade of crimson.He jabbed a sausage-like finger in Harriet's direction.
"You! What have you done now?!"
A slow smile spread across Harriet's lips, devoid of any warmth.
"What have I done?" she echoed softly. "This."
With a flick of her finger, Vernon froze, his body rigid as if turned to stone.His eyes bulged in alarm, the only part of him capable of movement.
"Uncle," Harriet continued, her voice silky smooth, "be a dear and punch your son."
Dudley's smirk faltered, confusion knitting his brows.He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as Vernon's massive fist swung with unexpected speed, connecting solidly with his cheek.The force sent Dudley sprawling to the floor, a wail of pain erupting from him.
Petunia's hands flew to her mouth, muffling a scream.Her eyes darted between her husband and son, disbelief and terror warring on her face.
"How... How could you?!" she choked out, tears brimming.
Harriet's gaze shifted to her aunt, feigning concern.
"Oh, Aunt Petunia, I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Here, allow me."
With a subtle gesture, Petunia collapsed to the floor, her body convulsing as silent screams contorted her face.Her hands clawed at her skin, as if trying to rid herself of an invisible torment.
Dudley, still clutching his bruised cheek, watched his mother's agony with wide, tear-filled eyes.His own pain momentarily forgotten, he scrambled toward her.
"Mummy!" he sobbed.
Harriet watched them with a cold, calculating gaze as Petunia writhed on the floor, her body twitching as though it were being torn apart from the inside. The sound of her screams reverberated through the walls of the Dursley household, but Harriet felt no pity, no empathy. In fact, it only fueled the dark satisfaction that was slowly blossoming within her chest.
“Such a shame,” Harriet whispered softly, almost to herself, as she observed the chaos she had wrought. “But it’s necessary, isn’t it?”
Dudley’s cries filled the air, sharp and high-pitched, adding to the cacophony. He darted toward his mother, his face contorted in panic, but as his hand reached out to her, another spell struck him, forcing him to the ground with a guttural scream of agony. The force of the impact made him collapse in a heap, gasping for breath as his body spasmed uncontrollably.
Petunia’s sobs intensified as she managed to crawl toward her son, but she could not reach him. Her limbs were shaking, her body completely out of her control. Harriet’s fingers twitched, the pain she was inflicting upon them spreading in waves like a cruel symphony.
“This is just the beginning,” Harriet said, her voice laced with venomous sweetness. Her eyes, once full of innocence and hesitation, had long since disappeared, replaced by a cold, merciless look that was now fixed on the people who had tormented her for so long.
She stepped forward, her feet silent on the cold floor, her breath even. It was so easy—too easy—to make them suffer. It had been too long. Years of mistreatment, of neglect, of pain and suffering had accumulated inside of her, festering until it had turned into something far darker than anything they could have imagined. Now, she was the one in control. She was the one who would make them feel every ounce of suffering they had ever inflicted on her.
“Let’s see how long it takes for you to break, shall we?” she mused aloud, her voice carrying the weight of cruel amusement. She slowly circled them, her gaze never leaving their writhing forms.
Vernon, still frozen in place, could do nothing but watch as his family was torn apart, helpless against the invisible forces Harriet controlled. His eyes pleaded with her, but he knew that begging would get him nowhere. Harriet wasn’t the scared little girl she used to be. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she had nothing but hatred in her heart for these people.
Turning back to the woman who had raised her with nothing but disdain, Harriet’s expression hardened.
“Tell me, Aunt Petunia,” she purred, her voice dripping with malice, “did you really think you could break me? That I would forever be your little servant? Your punching bag?”
Petunia’s voice was hoarse from screaming, but she managed to croak out, “W-what are you? What have you become?”
Harriet smiled, though it wasn’t a kind smile. “I’ve become exactly what I was always meant to be. The one you should have feared from the start.”
Her gaze shifted toward Vernon, his face now an unhealthy shade of purple from the strain of being frozen in place. She could feel the weight of his fear pressing down on him, even though he would never admit it. He wasn’t even worth a moment of her time anymore, at least, not yet, not like Petunia and Dudley. No, they were the ones who would truly feel the consequences of her power at this very moment.
Dudley finally managed to push himself up from the ground, his body trembling. The pain was unbearable, but it didn’t compare to the overwhelming terror that washed over him as he watched his mother convulse on the floor. His breath came in sharp gasps as he looked at Harriet, his eyes wide with fear.
“Please…” he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. “Please stop…”
But Harriet’s smile only grew. She stepped closer to him, her presence overwhelming.
“You want me to stop?” she asked, her voice soft as silk. “What makes you think you deserve that mercy?”
Dudley’s lip trembled. “We—we were just… we didn’t mean it… we didn’t know…”
Harriet’s laugh was cold, cutting through the air like a blade. “You didn’t know? Oh, you knew. You knew exactly what you were doing. And now, you’ll pay the price for it.”
Before he could react, she raised her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, Dudley was flung across the room, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, unable to move.
Petunia let out a strangled sob, and in that moment, Harriet felt no remorse. There was no part of her that wished to stop, no part of her that wanted to offer a quick end to their suffering. This was what they had earned. This was the reckoning they had brought upon themselves.
“I will make sure you suffer in ways that will haunt you for the rest of your days,” Harriet declared, her voice steady, unwavering. “You’ll live with this pain for as long as I deem fit. And when it’s over, you will wish for the sweet mercy of death.”
She looked at the Dursleys, their forms broken and battered before her. She could feel their terror, the pleading in their eyes, but there was nothing—nothing—left of the girl they had once known. She was far beyond that now.
Her heart no longer beat for them. Her heart had no place for mercy, no place for forgiveness. They had abandoned her, used her, and now they would pay the price.
As the screams of her aunt and cousin filled the air once more, Harriet’s smile widened, satisfaction flooding her. She wasn’t the frightened child anymore. She wasn’t the orphan begging for love or attention. She was a force to be reckoned with.
And no one, not even her so-called family, would escape the consequences of their actions.
As the screams of Petunia and Dudley echoed in the air, Harriet's eyes flicked back to Vernon. He had been the worst of them all—her uncle, the one who had truly made her life a living hell. He had treated her as less than human, a burden to be discarded, a mere inconvenience in his perfect little world. He was the one who had called her names, who had locked her in the cupboard, who had belittled her at every turn. His cruelty had cut deeper than anyone else’s, and now, he would pay for it.
Harriet’s gaze turned cold, her fingers curling into a fist as she regarded him. His once-bulging face, twisted with fear, was now contorted with guilt and helplessness. He could barely move, trapped under her spell, but his eyes darted from his wife to his son, then back to the girl who had once been his niece. His breath came in shallow gasps as the realization of his fate settled in.
“Oh, Uncle Vernon,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You were always the worst of them all, weren’t you? The one who tormented me the most, who made me feel like I was nothing.” Her lips curled into a sickening smile as she stepped closer to him, watching the way his wide eyes followed her every movement. “Do you remember how you treated me? Do you remember all the times you locked me away, the insults you hurled at me, the beatings I endured?”
Vernon’s lips trembled, and he tried to say something, but the words died in his throat. His face was flushed, and his hands clenched at his sides in a futile attempt to break free of the invisible force holding him in place.
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” she continued. “It’s all coming back now, isn’t it? The cruelty. The neglect. The hatred you poured into me for just existing.”
She stepped even closer, her presence oppressive and overwhelming. Vernon tried to turn away, but his body refused to obey, and he was forced to meet her gaze.
“I’m not going to be merciful with you, Uncle Vernon,” she said softly, but there was a venomous edge to her words. “You never once showed me kindness. Never once offered me love or even the smallest ounce of compassion. I was your prisoner, your punching bag, your scapegoat. And now, it’s my turn to make you feel what it was like to be me. To be utterly helpless.”
With a flick of her wrist, the air around him seemed to grow thick and heavy. Vernon’s body spasmed as if something had taken hold of him, constricting around his chest and limbs, squeezing the breath out of him.
“I want you to feel every ounce of fear you made me feel. Every moment of pain. Every breath of hopelessness,” Harriet said, her voice chilling as she leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving his.
Then, with a snap of her fingers, the spell took hold. Vernon’s body jerked, contorting unnaturally, and a guttural scream tore from his throat as his muscles locked in place. His eyes bulged, veins standing out on his forehead as his entire body was racked with pain. But Harriet wasn’t done yet.
"Do you remember the time you left me in that cupboard for days, Uncle Vernon?" she asked, her tone disturbingly calm. "Do you remember how you thought it was funny to starve me, to treat me like an animal? Well, let’s see how long you can endure what I endured.”
With another wave of her hand, she began to tighten the spell further. Vernon’s body shook violently, his eyes now filled with terror. The pain was unbearable, and his screams of anguish filled the room. But still, Harriet watched with no hint of mercy in her eyes.
“You always called me a freak,” she continued, her voice a haunting whisper. “But you were the true freak. You twisted, monstrous thing. You’re the one who made me feel worthless. And now… now you’ll understand just how it feels.”
Her eyes glowed with cold satisfaction as she twisted the spell, sending jolts of excruciating pain through Vernon’s body. His screams were almost animalistic now, raw and primal, as his body shook uncontrollably. His chest heaved as though he couldn’t breathe, and every movement seemed to send a new wave of agony through him.
Harriet’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she continued to watch him suffer. The sight of Vernon’s pain gave her a twisted sense of satisfaction, and she took pleasure in every moment of his suffering. This was what he deserved. Every second of it.
“Let me make sure you remember, Uncle Vernon,” she said softly, her voice like a venomous caress. She raised her hand again, and Vernon’s body froze, suspended in midair, unable to move as the pain subsided for a brief moment. “I’m not done with you yet.”
She moved in front of him and, with a flick of her fingers, caused his body to twist and contort, forcing him to kneel before her. His face was a twisted mask of agony, but he couldn’t move. His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.
“Now, you will watch as I make your family suffer,” she continued, her gaze shifting toward Dudley and Petunia, who were still writhing in pain. “You will watch as they scream and beg for mercy. But there will be no mercy from me, Vernon. Not for you. Not for them.”
Harriet then turned her attention back to the man who had tormented her the most. The man who had made her life a nightmare.
She stepped closer, her voice low and dark. “You will never forget this. This is the price you pay for making me feel worthless. For making me believe I was nothing. For every hurtful word, every insult, every time you locked me away in that cupboard… You will remember this moment for the rest of your miserable life.”
Vernon’s body shuddered in response to her words, and he looked at her with wide, pleading eyes, but it was too late. Harriet’s hand rose, and with one final twist of the spell, Vernon’s body jerked violently once more. The pain surged through him like a tidal wave, and he let out a scream so deafening, so full of agony, that it shook the very walls of the room. But Harriet’s gaze never wavered. She was unbothered by the sound, unbothered by the suffering.
It was only then, when Vernon’s body finally slumped in exhaustion, that Harriet allowed him a moment of respite. He fell to the ground, breathing heavily, his body broken and battered from the torment he had endured.
Harriet stared down at him, her eyes cold and unfeeling. “Consider this my gift to you, Uncle Vernon,” she whispered softly. “A reminder that you can never escape what you’ve done.”
She turned away from him then, not sparing him another glance, as she moved toward the door. Her mind was already on the next stage of her plans.
Dudley, Petunia, and Vernon had been dealt with. They had suffered, and they would continue to suffer. But she was far from done. There were more to pay, more to make regret ever crossing her path.