Chapter 3
The Potter children's world was a narrow, confined space, and it was a miracle that they managed to thrive in such an oppressive environment. Each day was a new struggle against the limitations imposed upon them by their aunt and uncle, but Holly, ever resourceful, ensured they made the best of what they had. The cupboard they were forced to sleep in was not just a physical space; it was a constant reminder of the cruelty of the Dursleys. It was cramped, uncomfortable, and filled with shadows and tiny spiders that liked to bite them while they slept but it was the only home they knew, a home defined by neglect and harsh words.
Despite their aunt Petunia's constant berating, the three children had an unspoken bond, a unity forged through years of shared hardship. Holly had stepped into a maternal role from a very young age, taking on the responsibility of protecting and caring for Harry and Lennox. She might not have been their biological mother, but in their eyes, she was everything. She had given them love, attention, and care when no one else would, and in return, they clung to her fiercely.
It was Holly who had taught them to read when the Dursleys never would have. When they were little, their minds were hungry for knowledge, a thirst that Holly fed with the scraps of books she managed to steal. Each time she brought a new book, it was a small victory, a treasure to share with her brothers. "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" became their nightly ritual, a story of adventure, courage, and magic, all of which felt like an unspoken promise of something greater than their mundane existence.
Even The Hobbit, which was Harry's favorite who felt like he was much like Fíli and Kíli, and Nox thought himself like Ori — Holly thought it was spot on.
They lived in a world of shadows, but through Holly's eyes, the stories she told them were like windows into brighter, more magical worlds.
It was no secret that Holly had a particular fondness for the books about magic. She loved them for the stories they told, but also for the hope they gave her. She could see the magic that flowed through her brothers, especially Nox, whose burgeoning abilities could no longer be ignored. Holly had learned early on that magic wasn't something to be feared. It wasn't something to be hidden away or suppressed, even though the Dursleys tried to beat it out of them at every opportunity. She saw it as a gift, a power that made them special. So, every time Nox exhibited signs of magic—his first accidental levitation of a spoon, his quiet summoning of a pebble from across the room—Holly took pride in it. She knew it was a sign that they weren't ordinary children, and in a world that constantly told them they were less than nothing, that made all the difference.
Magic wasn't just something she read about in stolen books; it was something she lived with every day, something she had to hide from the Dursleys. The children learned early on how to keep their heads down, how to be invisible in the world around them. They had to be careful, always watching over their shoulders, making sure that no one noticed the strange things they could do. Holly's own magic, too, was a secret, hidden in the wild, untamable strands of her hair, in the faint electric charge that crackled through the air whenever she was upset or excited. She didn't know much about her magic, but she knew it was powerful, and she knew it was hers to protect.
Holly made sure that her brothers never felt ashamed of who they were. The Dursleys told them they were freaks, that they didn't deserve anything, but Holly made sure they knew the truth. She filled their hearts with confidence, telling them they were special, that they were perfect just the way they were. She knew the power of words, how they could build you up or tear you down, and she chose to build them up. She taught Harry and Lennox that their worth wasn't defined by what the Dursleys said or did. Their worth came from within, from the love they shared, and from the bond that tied them together as siblings.
It was during these years of hardship that Holly began to understand the importance of the small things—the stolen crayons, the scraps of paper, the broken toys. It wasn't the gifts themselves that mattered, but the love and care that went into giving them. When she gave Nox a battered teddy bear with a missing eye, she didn't just give him a toy; she gave him a piece of her heart. She had even stolen a loose blue button, thread, and a needle from Petunia's sewing kit and an old sock from Dudley's closet to give 'Frankie the bear' a new eye and arm. And when she stole a small pencil case for Harry or a set of crayons for Lennox, she did it not out of malice, but out of love. She wanted them to have something, anything, to hold onto. In their world, nothing was ever truly theirs, but at least for a moment, they could have something that was just for them.
It wasn't just material things that Holly stole for them, though. She stole moments of joy, moments of happiness, whenever she could. She made sure they laughed, even when everything seemed dark. She made sure they knew how to dream. It was no easy feat, but it was one that Holly took on with all her heart. She knew that if they could hold onto hope, if they could hold onto each other, then they could survive anything.
The Dursleys, of course, were never kind. They were always looking for ways to tear the children down, to remind them of their place. But Holly never let the words of her aunt and uncle penetrate too deep. They could call them freaks all they wanted, but Holly knew the truth. She knew that Harry, Lennox, and herself were something much greater than what the Dursleys saw. They were magical, they were extraordinary, and no amount of cruelty could change that.
Even when Harry was small, and it seemed like the weight of the world was too much for him to bear, Holly was there to lift him up. She made sure that he knew he wasn't alone. She made sure that he knew he was loved. It was the same with Lennox, who had his own struggles. The little boy who sometimes didn't understand that Holly wasn't their mother, )it took a year to get him to call her sissy instead of mummy all because he had heard Dudley call Aunt Petunia; Mummy.) the one who sometimes needed more care and attention, was never left behind. Holly gave him that care, that love, without question. She knew that the world outside was cold and unkind, but inside their little cupboard, they had each other.
Holly tried her best to teach Harry how to write his name and begin teaching him how to read from the very torn-up books she knicked from Dudley's toy room. It was hard since they had no light in the cupboard except for the little slivers that came in through the slot on the door and she had to make sure no one was around the cupboard either.
Harry was only three so she didn't expect him to be able to do it but she wanted to make sure he at least knew how to spell his name and could recite the Dursley's address.
When Harry started school, it was a bittersweet moment for Holly. She was proud of him, of course, but it meant she couldn't protect him all the time anymore. She couldn't always shield him from the harshness of the world outside. But Harry, like his sister, was resilient. He was smart and capable, and Holly had faith that he would thrive. He didn't have to be a Dursley to be successful; he just needed to be himself. It was the same with Lennox. Even though he was still so young, Holly knew that the world would eventually see the greatness in him too.
The school days were long and difficult, especially with the Dursleys always watching for any opportunity to remind the children of their place in the world. But Holly made sure to give them the tools they needed to succeed. She taught them to be clever, to be resourceful, and most importantly, to believe in themselves. She knew that the world outside was not kind to them, but she also knew that they were stronger than anyone realized.
As the years passed, the Potter children grew. They grew not just in size, but in spirit. They learned to hold onto each other, to protect each other, and to love each other fiercely. Holly was their rock, the one constant in a world that seemed determined to break them. She showed them what it meant to be family, to be kind, and to never give up, no matter what.
Despite the challenges they faced, the Potters had each other. And that, Holly knew, was more than enough.
Harry did struggle to let go of his sister when she walked him to Reception. He cried and clung to her forcing her to carry him even though he was too big to be carried by her anymore. Mrs. Miranda had promised he would have fun and that she was just a hallway away. Holly was in year 4. Her teacher Mr. Taylor said she was too smart for year 2. Holly had seemed hesitant at the time to go to school because it meant nobody was there to watch Nox. Harry had promised to take care of their baby brother but now he was in school too...
Thankfully, Lennox got to go to Nursery that was in the building beside them. Holly had promised to do extra chores and garden work as long as Lennox got to go to Nursery so she could pick him and Harry up together and wait for Misses Figg to pick them up from school.
Dudley got to go to a private school because good little normal boys got rewarded while freaks like them had to go to Public school.
Of course thanks to Holly teaching Harry since he was two, he had been too smart for Reception and got to go into Year 1 in the first three months of the school year. It was the same for Holly, she was placed in Year 5 by December, and then into Year 6 by May.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been furious that Holly was making their Dudders look stupid as well as Harry being too smart.
The day Harry was hit by Aunt Petunia for the first time was a turning point for all of them. He had seen her slap and hit Holly countless times, but it had never been directed at him. He always thought that Holly's insistence on standing between him and the Dursleys' fury was simply because she was the oldest. But that day, when the slap landed across his back, he felt a searing pain that was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The way Aunt Petunia's hand had landed on him was different, harsher, and it left a deep, aching bruise that throbbed for hours. The pain wasn't just physical, though—it was emotional. The woman who was supposed to care for them, the one who was supposed to protect them, had just hurt him. Harry could hardly comprehend it.
He couldn't understand why Holly always stood between him and the blows. She did it without hesitation, without question. Whenever Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia raised their hands, Holly was there, taking the hit, shielding them from harm. She was always trying to protect him, trying to protect Nox, but now Harry understood what that sacrifice truly meant. It hurt. The physical pain was bad enough, but seeing Holly take the brunt of it, seeing her shield him even when she was already bruised and battered herself, made the pain worse. Holly had always said that she would take the hits for them, but now Harry realized how much that truly cost her. It was as though she had a shield of love around them, and that shield came with a price.
When Harry went to school the next day, Mrs. Jasmine, his teacher, immediately noticed the hand-shaped mark on his back. Her face grew pale, her eyebrows furrowed with concern, and she asked Harry if he was okay. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to explain that the mark wasn't from an accident, that it was something far more deliberate, something that happened every time they angered the Dursleys. But Mrs. Jasmine was persistent, and she quickly asked for a private word with him and Holly after class.
The next thing Harry knew, police officers had arrived at the school, and a woman in a smart suit was sitting across from him and Holly, asking questions he didn't want to answer. Holly was tense, her eyes darting nervously between the officers and the woman. She looked like she was trying to keep her cool, but Harry could tell she was terrified. The woman was kind, asking gentle questions about their home life, but Harry couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. He didn't know how. He didn't want to risk Holly being hurt more than she already was. He didn't want to be hurt again either.
Then Aunt Petunia arrived at the school, her usual act of sweetness and concern for the children on full display. She wrapped her arms around Harry and Holly in front of the woman and the officers, her voice dripping with feigned worry. "Oh, these poor children," she said, her face a perfect mask of concern. "This older boy from the neighborhood keeps picking on them, and I just don't know what to do. It's been so stressful for all of us. We've already had a word with him, and I'm sure it's taken care of."
Holly clenched her jaw, her lips pressed together in an effort to hold back her anger. She said nothing, but Harry could feel her tension radiating from her. The woman in the smart suit and the police officer exchanged glances, their eyes filled with doubt, but they didn't press further. They left after making sure that everything seemed "settled," and Mrs. Jasmine was gone from the school just as quickly as she had appeared.
It wasn't long after that the reality of the situation began to sink in. Life for the three of them worsened. The beatings became more frequent, more brutal, but this time, they were hidden away in places where no one could see. They were punched in the stomach, kicked in the ribs, struck across the legs—places that could easily be hidden beneath clothing. The bruises became more common, but they were also easier to ignore. And that was what the Dursleys wanted. No one would ask questions about bruises on their legs, on their stomachs. They were invisible wounds, not easily detected, which made them easier to endure.
Harry's vision started to blur. It was subtle at first, but it grew worse with each passing day. He had trouble reading the blackboard, trouble seeing faces in the crowd at school. He complained to Holly one night, and she immediately knew what was wrong. Harry needed glasses. She had needed glasses for years, so she recognized the signs. The problem was that Harry wasn't the only one in need of new glasses.
When the school notified Uncle Vernon about Harry's eyesight, he exploded. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. Uncle Vernon was furious. "Two hundred pounds!" he yelled, his face turning purple. "I've already spent two hundred pounds on that brat's glasses a year ago! How dare they make me spend more!" He paced furiously, throwing his hands in the air. "It's not like we have money to throw around for these freaks!"
Holly stood silently, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she said nothing. She knew what would happen if she spoke. Uncle Vernon's anger would only be directed at her. He would lash out, blaming her for not doing enough, for making them seem like they were "different," for making Harry and Lennox "difficult." He had never cared about their needs—only about his own comfort.
The truth was that Lennox had been wearing Holly's old glasses, even though he really shouldn't have been. They weren't meant for him, but there was no other choice. Holly had given him hers because he needed something to see. She would have done anything for her brothers, even if it meant sacrificing something as small as her own glasses. But it was a constant reminder of the lack of resources they had—everything was shared, nothing was truly theirs.
The situation was becoming unbearable. The children were starved—starved not just because of neglect, but because the Dursleys would make sure they ate as little as possible. There was always enough food for Dudley, always enough to keep him content, but when it came to the Potters, there was never enough. The food they had was always a trickle, just enough to keep them from collapsing. They were stealing food, not from the stores, but from Dudley's meals—scraps, leftovers, crumbs—anything they could get their hands on without being caught. It was never enough, but it was all they could do.
Harry, Holly, and Lennox lived in a constant state of hunger. They were used to the gnawing emptiness in their stomachs, used to the coldness of the cupboard at night. They never complained. They couldn't. There was no point. Complaints only led to punishment. And as much as they loved each other, as much as they tried to protect one another, they knew that in the Dursleys' eyes, they were nothing. They were just things, expendable and insignificant. But still, Holly made sure that they fought for each other. She made sure they knew that they were worth something, that they deserved more than what they had.
But as life got harder, it became clear to all of them that something had to change. The Dursleys could no longer hold them in this cage. They were growing stronger, both in their minds and in their magic. Holly's protection, though unwavering, could only shield them for so long. The world outside was closing in, and they had no choice but to fight back, to find a way out, to find a way to escape from the suffocating grip of the Dursleys.
The three Potter children were roused from their sleepy daze by a loud, frantic banging on the cupboard door, followed by Aunt Petunia's shrill screech, waking them faster than any alarm clock ever could. Her voice was grating, harsh, as it reverberated through the walls of the cupboard under the stairs. The three children shifted, startled awake from a half-slumber, blinking in the dim early morning light, still tangled in the haphazard mess of worn blankets and sheets.
Holly, the one who always rose the earliest since she wanted her brothers to sleep as much as they could, checked the time. Her eyes fell on the old Snoopy watch that once belonged to Dudley, now perched on Harry's wrist. It was a small consolation— It had been hidden in the back of Dudley's closet for over a year, gathering dust until Holly had swiped it a few months back. The watch wasn't much, but it was Harry's now, and it had a strange, comforting weight to it on Harry's wrist.
The watch read five in the morning.
A quiet groan escaped Holly's lips as she rolled over, but she immediately stifled the sound, knowing that Aunt Petunia's mood was volatile at the best of times. There was no need to anger her further. With practiced care, Holly began untangling herself from the serpentine coil of her four-year-old brother, Nox, who had somehow managed to twist himself around her neck and chest during the night, his tiny limbs holding her in a vise-like grip.
"Come on, Nox," Holly murmured softly, her fingers running through his wild, curly hair. "You're okay, just let go, little one."
Nox mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, but Holly gently pried his hands away from her body. The boy was clingy, especially in the mornings, when the warmth and comfort of sleep made him even more attached to his big sister than usual.
"I got 'im," Harry mumbled from his side of the small bed, his voice thick with sleep but filled with an innate sense of responsibility. His green eyes glimmered softly in the faint light that came through the slivers of the cupboard door as he reached for Nox and pulled the toddler into his arms, humming softly, a sound that was more familiar than any lullaby to the youngest Potter sibling. Within moments, Nox was snoring once again, his tiny body relaxing against Harry's chest.
Holly watched them for a moment before carefully extricating herself from the cupboard. She slid out of their cramped space, closing the door gently behind her to avoid alerting any else other than Aunt Petunia to the fact that she had risen early. If she, god forbid, accidentally woke Dudley she'd get the tar whipped out of her by Uncle Vernon's favorite belt.
The kitchen was already bathed in the harsh fluorescent light, and the acrid smell of burnt toast lingered in the air from Aunt Petunia's botched attempt at breakfast. Aunt Petunia herself was standing by the stove, hands on her hips, glaring as if she had every right to expect perfection.
"Get the laundry started then begin cooking breakfast! And mind the bacon!" Aunt Petunia barked the order without even looking at Holly.
Holly's lips tightened, but she kept her voice soft and submissive, the words automatic. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Her eyes dropped to the floor, the familiar discomfort of submitting to Petunia's cruelty settling into her bones. It was always like this, the stifling weight of submission, the constant tension between doing what she was told and keeping her secret—her magic—hidden from the world. Holly's unnaturally bright eyes, the way they always glimmered with a faint, unspoken power, made her stand out in a world where conformity was prized above all else. She had learned long ago to keep her head down, to move through the house like a shadow, unseen, unnoticed. The only person who ever saw her as anything other than a nuisance was Harry and Nox, and even then, they had their own struggles to contend with.
Aunt Petunia's orders had a rhythm, a cadence that Holly could almost recite in her sleep. First, she was to start the laundry, then make breakfast, but her favorite part of the routine always came next: the search through Dudley's discarded clothes.
Holly's eyes quickly scanned the laundry hamper, looking for something, anything that would provide a small bounty. She wasn't proud of it, but it was survival. There was a £5 note, forgotten in the pocket of Dudley's trousers. Holly felt a flicker of triumph. It wasn't much, but it was something. She continued rummaging through the laundry basket, her fingers brushing against loose coins that had fallen to the bottom. She stuffed them quickly into her training bra and socks, her movements swift and practiced. She had learned how to make do with the barest of scraps, and though it wasn't glamorous, it was enough to get by.
After breakfast, when the kitchen was mercifully clear of Aunt Petunia's prying eyes, Holly motioned for Harry and Nox to follow her. They had a routine, a delicate dance they had perfected over time, and today was no different. Holly ushered her brothers out the back door and into the tiny garden that, much like their cupboard, was little more than a forgotten space in the world.
But Holly's sharp eyes quickly caught sight of something that made her heart skip a beat. Mrs. Gibblets, from the house next door, had a cooling pie sitting on her windowsill, the rich, warm scent of peaches and cream wafting through the air. Holly's stomach growled audibly, and she quickly motioned to Harry. They both knew what needed to be done. Nox was still too young to fully understand their little heists, but Harry was always alert, his sharp gaze scanning the yard for any sign of danger.
"Clear!" Harry hissed, his voice barely a whisper as he checked over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking.
Holly didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed, she darted through the small gap in the broken fence between the houses. The hole wasn't much wider than her shoulders, but it was just enough for her to squeeze through. She crawled on the other side, hidden from view, and then paused to collect her breath. There was no room for mistakes. The last time they had been caught, Aunt Petunia had punished them for days, withholding food and water, and they had nearly dropped from dehydration and starvation.
Focusing her mind, Holly felt her magic stir, restless and fierce. It crackled beneath her skin, a reminder of what she was capable of, what she had to keep hidden. With her heart hammering in her chest, she focused all her attention on the pie, using her magic to gently lift it from the windowsill. The effort made her skin tingle, but she fought the urge to whimper, pushing the feeling deep into her stomach. Magic was unpredictable for her, wild and untamed. It always had been. Even though she was an expert at wandless levitation at only the age of 8, her magic caused her pain. It was a pain she refused to let Harry or Nox witness. She quickly wiped the black blood that broke free of the cracks of her hands into the grass. The smell of marigolds, sickly sweet with iron made her nose twitch.
The pie rose from the windowsill, hovering in the air just inches above it. Holly bit her lip in concentration as the warmth of the pie pressed against her magic. It was almost too much to handle, but she gritted her teeth and kept her focus, willing the pie to move in her direction. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she lifted the pie off the windowsill, guiding it through the air toward her.
Once she had it within reach, she didn't hesitate. She grabbed the pie and dashed back toward the gap in the fence, her movements swift and sure. Harry was waiting for her on the other side, ready to help.
"Got it," Holly panted as she passed the pie to Harry, who quickly grabbed it. They both scrambled back through the narrow gap, Nox still blissfully unaware of what they had just done.
The three of them huddled behind the shed, their little secret safe for now. The pie was still warm, the sweet scent of peaches and cream almost too good to be true. Harry wasted no time in slicing it up, passing pieces to Holly and Nox. Holly, however, only took a small portion for herself, pushing the rest onto Harry and Nox. She was starving, but she knew that Harry and Nox needed it more than she did. They were younger, and they had more growing to do. She happily starve if she could give her brothers a full belly.
"But you need it," Harry said, his brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm not all that hungry," Holly lied through her teeth, her voice soft but firm. "Quickly, eat before we're caught. If they catch us, we won't be fed for a week."
Harry looked at her for a moment, his green eyes filled with understanding. He didn't question her, not for a second. He simply took the slice she offered, passing the rest to Nox, who was already eagerly shoving pie into his mouth. For a few brief, fleeting moments, the three of them sat together, sharing the stolen pie, the world outside their little sanctuary forgotten. It was a small victory, but it was theirs.
For a brief moment, Holly let herself relax, allowing the warmth of the pie and the comfort of her brothers' company to wash over her. But she knew, deep down, that the battle for survival would continue. Every day was a struggle, every day a test. And for all the times she had to fight, all the times she had to keep her secret, she would continue to do whatever it took to protect her family.
Even if it meant stealing another of Mrs. Gibblet's pies.
She would do so again next week when the demented woman had forgotten about this one.