Girl meets Girl
—Harriet PoV
Staring tired at the onion lying on the green plastic chopping block I mindlessly cut away at them with my knife. Nice and monotonously slicing them into totally even-
‘Your ends are longer.’ Comments a soft, teasing and most assuredly annoying feminine voice from nowhere in particular.
‘Thank you.’ I sarcastically spit back as I brutally slash through the larger segments she pointed out and get back to my menial chores. Something I’ve been stuck with for almost ten years now.
‘Muggles.’ Growls the voice as I ignore her once again. Though inwardly I do agree with her on some points - a fact I will take to my grave - especially regarding how we both hold mutual hate towards the Dursleys.
Then again considering that I’m admitting to agreeing with a teenage Dark Lady who just so happens to be a voice in the back of my head then I’m already doubting how sane I actually am. Probably not very much if I’m imagining all this.
‘You aren’t though. I’m as real as every breakable bone in those pigs bodies… actually scratch that, as real as the fact your ‘relatives’ are escaped barnyard animals.’
Holding back a snort at the remarkably accurate, if dark, analogies I brush aside the onion and begin chopping away at some meat. Dicing it up nice and supple. ‘If you are so real oh great Lady Tamelyn, then how may this ‘unworthy’ one serve you.’
‘Maybe by tripping that miniature whale down the staircase, trick him into carrying something heavy as well and you’ll have a lot more free time!’ She joyfully replies as if putting Dudley in the hospital is the most obvious and natural thing in the world.
‘No.’ I curtly think back as she falls silent, a soft flicker of amusement from her region of my mind.
It’s tiring, having to deal with a young megalomaniac in your head, but still I press on and ignore it. Mostly because no one would believe me if I said anything - an action I know from experience Tamelyn would allow me to take anyway - and even if they did the only way to end a possession is to kill the host.
‘A fact you should know all too well.’ Teases the vindictive spirit joyfully. But she’s right as neither Ginny nor Quirrel’s possessions ended until the host of the spirit was destroyed. And even then the spirit itself survived it just transferred to somewhere else. Always.
‘I wasn’t intending to posses you.’ Tamelyn begins slowly and remarkably honestly. ‘In all honesty I never even knew a soul piece like the one in my diary could be transferred. But I’m grateful all around as otherwise I’d be very, very truly dead right now! So thanks for being an impressive meat sack of a host for me!’ Cheerfully yelling in my metaphysical ear the young Dark Lady teases me without end. Outwardly sighing I tune myself away from the megalomaniac and to my relatives.
Including a certain dog crazy Marge. Whose blubbering at the dining table as usual. Her loyal mutt prowling wildly around her like a blood hound. The rest of the Dursleys catering to her kindly as she gets steadily more and more drunk as the evening goes on. I’ve already have had to put with her for two days and it’s starting to wear on my already thinning patience. She’s seriously one of the most horrid individuals I’ve ever met.
‘Just kill her then.’
‘No.’ I protest mostly out of habit at this point, Riddle having been bugging me about maiming and killing - or torturing if she’s in a real bad mood - my relatives. Honestly I hate that I’m growing used to this.
‘Eh, for me things could be a lot worse. Imagine if I was stuck in a Malfoys head.’ Oh, gods no. Rolling my eyes at one of her actually normal snippets of common and sensical humour I pull away from my daydream of Riddle torturing the Malfoys for simply being the preening prats they are as Marge begins to look over in my direction.
“Your still here then aren’t you?” She scoffs as she downs yet another glass of wine, her twentieth so far in fact. Worriedly the Dursleys try to distract her away from me, growing mildly pale due to a brief incident a few days ago when Riddle - in an act of what to her is honest to good kindness, otherwise known as pure sadistic glee at the idea of tormenting both me and the Dursleys in one Fem swoop - removed the trace from my wand. A simple threat and demonstration with an oddly appropriately named Sickening charm later has lead to us reaching a compromise. Pretend I don’t exist, just ignore me and I’ll stay in my room for the next few weeks and pretend you don’t exist either.
Of course they agreed. Riddle taking no little joy in me putting them in their place - with me also taking far more enjoyment of watching them squirm in protest before giving up to my will than I’d ever thought I could, though I’ll deny the matter till my likely very early grave - and with that things were a lot easier. But of course Marge showed up to ruin my life, along with that damn acceptance slip charmed against unwilling signage for some reason - Riddle seems to suspect why but she isn’t telling. “Whats that school she goes to again? St Brutus School for Incurably Criminal Young Girls?”
“No, no. St Mary’s School for Rebellious Children.” Politely ‘corrects’ Petunia with their usual cover. Not that I’m complaining about it.
‘It doesn’t matter what Muggles think of you anyway. Your fellow Witches and Wizards more than suffice.’ Consoles (?) Riddle as Marge continues on.
“Of course it’s not her fault really. The fault of the bitch is the fault of the mother.” ‘How dare this filthy-‘ “Bad breed. What was it again? Car crash? Ha! No sense between them, the uncultured worthless swine.”
Worthless swine? Vision growing a very deep red I glare over at the insufferable woman sitting across the room from me. Magic curling around me as it rolls outward in a twisted and familiar manner. As my grip on my knife turns practically pink.
‘Oh? Now this is interes-‘
“What did you say?” I ask, voice as cold and sharp as ice. Barely a whisper but the room fell silent as an invisible chill befell it’s occupants.
Until Marge snapped out of her brief spell of disbelief and snorted. “See! No manners at all! Doubt they’ve been giving her the cane enough.”
Hastily trying to shift away her attention from me the Dursleys comically flailed about for a minute. But in her drunken state she obviously didn’t care one bit as she downed another glass and went on. “Doubt she’s much good in general. Horrid grades I recall, probably fetch a little if you sell the bitch though that’s a thought!” She laughs and the Dursleys are awkwardly chuckling along with her, glancing over at my unchanged expression.
Sell me? What an absolute bitch. ‘Worst kind of muggle imaginable. Selling a Witch? Unthinkable.’ And while I hate to agree with her Riddle has a point - if one extrapolates it to everyone and not just magical beings, which I tend to have to do - as nobody should be ‘sold’. Even considering it’s just… horrid.
‘Maybe she’s part troll? And the other half is buffalo. I think I can see the familial resemblance already.’ Quietly jives Riddle as I feel a sharp smooth object shatter against my face. Cutting me as the glass shards scrape along my cheek in long winding marks.
“See? Nothing but a worthless, ungrateful bitch! Not even worthy of living in such a fine house! Oh I know! Why don’t you lick it all up? Maybe then you’ll finally know your betters girl!” Chortles Marge as the room falls silent barring her gruff vicious voice cutting out like daggers.
This.
A holly wand flickered silently into my hand, twisting firmly in my claw like grasp.
Filthy.
Magic coiling and revolving out of my skin as it works it’s way across the room towards HER body. A word atop my tongue that I’d only ever dreamt of before. A silent enthusiasm burning at the back of my throat and mind.
Muggle!
Snarling I go to raise my wand and cast a spell reading only death, but then like a cut string my body numbs and falls out of my control. Posture straightening as my wand is lowered and twirled loosely in hand. A whispered, “While as entertaining as killing her would be, I doubt either of us would want to be going to Azkaban soon.” rang out before I felt my magic shift into a controlled ordered flow. Like an orchestra held in motion.
“I’ll show you how it’s done.” Whispers Riddle in my own voice as she flicks my wrist unnoticeably beneath the counter.
With a harsh slam Marge’s chair breaks as she falls to the floor. Tumbling backwards as a flood of frosty air claws against the floor. Ice snaking along her legs as icicles begin growing across her body. Trapping her in place, frozen in a delicate web of cold icy magic.
With that I feel control return to me as I quickly pocket my wand once more. ‘I mimed the trace, to a degree. It’ll look accidental.’ Halfheartedly mutters Riddle as she dozed off in my mind. Leaving me alone before the stunned crowd of Dursleys.
One growing particularly purple in the face. Before anyone could have a chance to react I cooly declare. “I think I’ll be leaving now. People will be round soon enough to clean all this up. See you next year.”
And with that I break into a rapid sprint as I clamber upstairs and open my trunk. Whistling Hedwig onto my arm as everything slides back into my opened trunk orderly and quickly with only the slightest of gestures from my wand. Closing itself it shrinks automatically as I pocket it and run back down stairs.
Bursting out and through the front door right as Vernon bellowed out an ear splitting yell of. “GIRL!”
—Tamelyn PoV
That was entertaining. I doubt Potter realised it but most of that magic work at the end was hers. All I did was push it in the right direction.
Of course she lacks control, and discipline but considering how she hasn’t particularly practiced it before I have no doubt that under proper tutelage she would be a force to reckon with.
Her magic is highly adaptable and holds four firm affinities. One more than my own. Necromancy, Dark Arts, Elemental Magic - Ice and Wind to be precise - and Alchemy.
If she ever bothered to learn any of these subjects she’d no doubt be regarded as a prodigy unlike any other. Hell having one affinity is considered rare enough and Snape and Dumbledore only have two. Potions and the Mind Arts. And Alchemy and the Mind Arts respectively.
Of course this is only Firm affinities. Other subjects are malleable and can form into affinities with enough training and practice. So long as one holds the disposition towards the subject first to study it for such a time, but all things need at least a degree of that.
Such a shame Hogwarts no longer teaches any of Potter’s firm affinities. Oh, if only she had a knowledgeable, beautiful and intelligent teacher to guide her. And if in doing so I can convince her to help me regain a proper body then so be it.
This is going to be so much fun~
-Omake 1-
Harriet: I hate this.
Tamelyn: Rude, I thought I made a rather pleasant impression all things considered.
Harriet: No, I hate that you’re just too likeable.
Tamelyn: Of course, I am a Dark Lord after all.