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Importance of Choices: Dahlia the Muggleborn Dursley

Summary:

“What do you want me to do with it?"
“Eat the plate- what do you think?”
“But why?”
“Because...because I just do. Just eat, P- Harry.”

One wise thing Dumbledore said: "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities". How drastically will these choices change their paths?

Notes:

TW: Canonical animal abuse from The Sorcerer's Stone.

So a while ago I came across an old idea I had for an HP fic, and since I had some renewed confidence bolstered by renewed interest in HP, namely becaused I finally read the books, this came about.

I highly recommend reading the books if you haven’t. They’re an easy read and really detailed.

In dishonor to Uncle Vernon, this fic will be posted on Sundays, and certainly not on any schedule.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the HP books or licensed properties.

Enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

“Potter. Potter .”

Harry Potter’s attention snapped from the sounds of Dudley shouting at his mother in the greenhouse to Dahlia in front of him, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor.

“Do you have an ‘A’?” She asked crossly as she brushed some of her thin black hair out of her face, the watery blue eyes she’d gotten from her father looking at him impatiently.

Harry shook his head. 

Dahlia sighed, handing over the cards she’d taken in the previous round with a sour look.“Pay attention, or we won’t finish the game before Dad gets back from work.”

By which point her dad would pitch a fit that they were playing together, and Harry would be put in the cupboard while Uncle Vernon would try bribing Dahlia with a game she could play by herself. 

Harry looked at his hand. “A bit hard with the background noise we have.”

Dudley accentuated that by sobbing. 

Dahlia rolled her eyes in disgust. “Dudley’s always crying about something. It’s just this time Mum and Dad won’t say what, not even to me.” At this, she too got the same look Dudley did whenever it looked like he would be denied something. An expression Harry himself never dared to show, or at least tried not to. 

His younger cousin then looked at him curiously. “You sure you don’t know who’s sending you those letters?”

Harry tried hard, quite hard, to hold back a sigh, but still one went through. “I already told you - I don’t know . Just-” he added sharply when he saw her about to ask another question, “like I don’t know how I made that glass at the zoo disappear.”

“I don’t think you set the snake on him and Piers on purpose, or that it really tried to eat his leg. It would’ve taken it an hour if it tried.” Dahlia told him before a mischievous smile came over her face. “I wish you did though. That way I could do that whenever Dudley-”

A crash came from the backyard, startling the cousins as they realized it was the sound of glass breaking, followed soon after by Aunt Petunia’s hysterical voice.

“Dudley, sweetums!” Petunia cried out worriedly as Harry and Dahlia got up from their seat to investigate the sound. “Are you alright? Did the glass cut you?” 

Abandoning the cards on the floor, Harry and Dahlia got up and went outside to see what had happened. Harry heard Dahlia gasp in shock as his eyes zeroed in on what was lying in the glass.

Dudley’s pet tortoise - whom he had lazily named Shell - on his back, feebly moving his legs in the air as drops of blood stained the ground around him. 

Harry and Dahlia raced over to look at Shell.

“Don’t touch him.” Harry warned fearfully Dahlia as her hand reached for the tortoise.

“We can’t just leave him here.” Dahlia replied, her eyes welling up with tears. 

Dudley stomped out of the greenhouse, and his small eyes spotted them immediately. 

“Get another letter, Potter?” Dudley demanded as his headed for them, his red face clashing with his blond hair. “Well, have you?”

Dahlia glared at her brother. “Dudley, look at Shell. Look at-”. Her face instantly paled before a new glare, this time fiercer, came over her face. “Did you do this?”

Dudley just scoffed and headed inside with a huff, ignoring as Dahlia shouted “Dudley!” 

“Dahlia, stop shouting.” Aunt Petunia scolded as she came out of the greenhouse, looking a little shaken. “The neighbors will hear.”

“But Mum!” Dahlia shouted still. “Dudley-”

“Leave your brother alone.” Aunt Petunia told Dahlia before her eyes turned sharply on Harry, her face becoming pinched. “You, clean this up.”

“What about Shell?” Harry asked before he could stop himself, unable to ignore the pained cries from the tortoise.

“We should call 999.” Dahlia suggested. 

“Why would we need to involve the police?” Aunt Petunia asked aghast, causing Dahlia to look down embarrassed and uncertain. Aunt Petunia briefly opened her mouth, but no sound came out, and instead she told Harry to clean up the mess before Uncle Vernon came home before she too headed inside. 

The two were left alone with Shell, and Harry couldn’t take it anymore. With as much care as he could, he gently turned a whimpering Shell onto his feet, but the little tortoise was too weak to walk. 

“I-I don’t know how to…” Harry trailed off, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. “I can take him to my cupboard-”

“There’s spiders in there.” Dahlia protested.

“Well have you got any ideas?” Harry shot back.

Dahlia paused for a moment before she said, “Take him to my room.”

Harry looked at her astonished. He had never been allowed to go to either Dudley or Dahlia’s rooms before. The only time he had tried was once when he was seven, and he had tried to reclaim a toy Dahlia had taken from him. For his troubles, Vernon had locked him into the cupboard for hours without dinner. 

His younger cousin snapped, “Take him to my room before my dad gets back. I’ve got to get something without Mum noticing.”

Harry agreed, and he carefully picked up Shell in his hands before going up to Dahlia’s room, tiptoeing up the stairs in fear that Aunt Petunia or Dudley would hear him. Though perhaps he needn’t have worried about Dudley, whose TV was so loud Harry could clearly hear what was being said from the stairway. 

Eventually Dahlia came to her room and shut the door behind her, revealing some lettuce that she had hidden under her shirt.

After directing Harry to place Shell on her pillow, the two of them tried to get the tortoise to eat while Dahlia tried to clean up Shell, gently wiping away the blood between intervals of wiping tears from her face. Harry used a finger to pet the top of Shell’s head, noting that the creature’s eyes were slowing becoming more unfocused. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry told Shell with a slight wobble in his voice, holding up a piece of lettuce that Shell was ignoring. “Please eat. Please?”

Shell didn’t eat anything beyond a single bite before his eyes shut. After awhile, Harry was the first to notice that Shell was no longer making pained sounds, but the brief relief he felt at thinking he was feeling better instantly faded when Harry realized that Shell wasn’t breathing anymore.

Uncle Vernon found Harry and Dahlia kneeling at her bedside, Dahlia crying while Harry could only stare at Shell regretfully.

“What are you doing here, boy?” Uncle Vernon asked sharply, startling both kids. Upon seeing Dahlia’s tear stained face, his own face became red. “What did you do, boy?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Harry immediately protested, now fearful that Uncle Vernon would blame Harry for all of this.

Dahlia rushed to her father and hugged him around his middle, her skinny arms barely around to clasp much beyond his gut as he hugged her back.

“Oh, sweetheart, what did that cruel boy do to you?” Uncle Vernon asked as he glared at Harry.

“It’s not him.” Dahlia said tearfully as she looked at her father. “It’s Shell. He’s...he’s…”

Uncle Vernon walked over to the pet tortoise, and upon realizing Shell’s state, he glared at Harry again. “You killed Dudley’s pet?”

“Dad!” Dudley shouted as he barged into the room. He must’ve heard what Vernon said, because he immediately pointed the finger at Harry. “It’s his fault! If he hadn’t taken my tortoise-”

Harry had been in the process of preparing himself for whatever punishment Vernon had planned, so he didn’t notice Dahlia’s pale cheeks flush with anger, and was startled by her sudden shouting. 

“You stupid liar!” Dahlia screamed as she marched up to be nose to nose with her angry brother. “You’re the one that threw Shell!”

“Did not!” 

“Did too!” 

Harry ducked out of the way as the two siblings came to blows, Dudley gripping one of Dahlia’s arms as she grabbed his hair in a vice grip.

Vernon had to separate them, and Harry felt he was seeing the image of walrus breaking up a fight between a baby whale and a thin deer.

What came after was an argument of what to do with Shell. Petunia and Vernon wanted to throw it away, Dudley didn’t care as long as he didn’t have to touch it, and Dahlia wanted to bury it in the garden.

“Why do you want to do that, stupid?” Dudley sneered.

“Shell needs to be buried, or hadn’t you figured that out?” Dahlia shot back.

Vernon put a stop to a fight by giving Dahlia her way. Dudley objected - solely because he wanted to ruin whatever his little sister had planned - but blessedly quieted when Petunia promised him a new game in return.

Harry helped Dahlia dig a hole near a tree, and together they buried Shell, the two of them silently mourning for the poor little thing. 

“Should we say something?” Dahlia asked suddenly.

Harry was startled by the question. “Uh, sure.” Straightening his back, Harry said, “Shell was a good turtle. We hope that Shell has a nice home in turtle heaven.”

“Where there’ll be lots of lettuce,” Dahlia added with a sniffle.

Harry paused before awkwardly saying, “Well, yes. Rest in peace, Shell.”

Dahlia nodded. There were a few moments of silence before she said, “I’ve never been to a funeral before.”

“Neither have I.” Harry said.

Dahlia looked at him confusedly. “But what about your parents? You didn’t go to their funeral?”

“I don’t even know where they’re buried.” Harry answered, a pang of longing filling his heart.

“Oh.” Dahlia said before she heard her mother calling. “We should go in. Sounds like dinner is ready.”

“Dinner for you.” Harry muttered.

“What?” Dahlia asked.

“Nothing.” Harry said, and the two headed inside. 

Aunt Petunia had cooked up a nice dinner for Uncle Vernon, Dudley, Dahlia, and herself, while Harry made himself a sandwich. For once, though, Harry was glad that he was made to sit at the counter for dinner, as the tense atmosphere at the dinner table was enough to make even Uncle Vernon silent. All throughout the dinner, Dudley and Dahlia glared at each other whenever she wasn’t glancing at Harry, and the terse silence was broken when Dahlia asked if she could save her food for later. 

“Did you not like it?” Aunt Petunia asked in a tone that conveyed both worry and a sense of hurt pride. 

“I do,” Dahlia said quickly. “I’m just a bit full right now. Can I save it for later?”

“Give it to me.” Dudley said trying to reach over and grab her plate. “I want it.”

“I don’t want you to have it.” Dahlia said as she took the plane out of his reach. “Not after what you did to Shell.”

“He was my pet,” Dudley said petulantly.

“Yeah, and you killed him,” she shot back heatedly. 

“Dahlia, give it to your brother.” Aunt Petunia said.

“No,” Dahlia protested. “I want it for later.”

Harry tried not to sigh too loudly, thinking about how he might end up buried next to Shell if he ever tried to say the same thing. 

In any event, the dinner ended, and Vernon convinced Petunia to let Dahlia put her dinner in the fridge.

“Maybe it’ll help my girl get some meat on her bones,” Uncle Vernon chortled like it was a brilliant joke, clearly not seeing how Dahlia self consciously touched her skinny arms. 

Harry didn’t think much of it until later in the night, when he was trying to swat away a spider that was disturbing his sleep, and the door of his cupboard was unlocked. 

Sitting upright, he wondered what Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wanted when the door opened, and a hand stuck Dahlia’s dinner plate through it.

“Here.” Dahlia whispered. “Take it.”

“What?” Harry asked as he rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses.

“Take it before my arm gets tired.” She told him impatiently, and Harry hastily grabbed it. She kept the door open just enough to peer at him through the crack. “It’s a bit cold.”

“What do you want me to do with it?” Harry asked.

“Eat the plate- what do you think? ” She whispered back.

“But why?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Because...because I just do. Just eat, P- Harry.” Dahlia said, and Harry began eating while she waited outside the door in silence. 

As he ate the meal in silence, Harry was once again reminded of the time Dahlia had taken his toy, and he had been punished for trying to reclaim it. 

Dahlia had come to his cupboard in the dead of night to return the toy, with the same guilty look on her face she wore now.