Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hot sun beat down on the boy as he lay on the dusty ground. He had stumbled over an old barbed wire fence he hadn’t seen in the tall grass. He just lay there for a while, his eyes closed, trying to think. At least he was face down so the sun was beating on the back of his head and not his face. He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t care. All he knew was he was away from… whomever he was running from.

He couldn’t remember much; at least not why he was really running. He remembered his name, he remembered how old he was, and he remembered his life prior to yesterday, so that was good. Or did he?

He was twelve, or was he thirteen already? No, he was twelve going on thirteen. His name was Jackson, but was that his first name, or his last name? He remembered his mother calling him Jackson, so it must be his first name. What was his last name then?

He also remembered people calling him Lee. But then he heard people call his father Lee too. Maybe he was Lee Junior? Lee could be a first name or a last name, couldn’t it? But so could Jackson. But if his mother called him Jackson, and people called both him and his father Lee; that meant his name was most likely Jackson Lee, didn’t it?

His head hurt and he groaned trying not to think so much anymore. He was very thirsty. He remembered being told how people couldn’t go very long without water. His mother was always the one who told him that every time he wanted to go out and play with the other kids. At least it wasn’t winter.

Why was he running? What had happened? He remembered lots of lights, lots of screaming. He rolled onto his side and something heavy thudded to the ground behind him. He reached back for whatever it was instinctively. His arm felt a lot heavier than it normally did.

He touched something cool and metal. That seemed strange. It was really hot, why would metal be cool? He took hold of it. The part he grabbed was thin and round, but there was a heavy bulk hanging off it, so heavy it was hard to pick up. He grunted as he pulled the object around in front of him, opening his eyes to look at it. He jumped in surprise and dropped it.

It was a gun.

Where had he got a gun? As he looked at it, he recognized it. It was his dad’s gun. It was an old-style revolver, well-worn from years of use. He reached down to his hip and felt a leather holster. That was why the gun was still cool; it had been in the holster out of the sun. He was remembering more now. His parents ran a re-enactment show, showing how people lived a hundred years ago out west. That was pretty much all the town did; re-enactments for tourists. And then they came… the Secessionists…

He buried his face in his hands. It was as if each new memory was a little knife stabbing into his brain. They came into the town and said they needed to hide. They were being chased. They needed food and water. Everyone was scared. No one knew what was going on. No one else was magical like the invaders were. He was the only wizard in town; a Muggle-born.

Wizard. Muggle-born. Those words stabbed him too. He curled up but winced again. It wasn’t his head hurting this time. It was his side. He reached down and felt a broken stick poking against him. He rolled over enough to pull it from his pocket and inspect it. It was a very straight, polished stick, snapped forcibly in half.

Wand, he thought. Why was he calling it a wand? Oh that was right, he was a wizard. Wizards used wands. Not guns. But the wand was broken. That must have been why he took the gun. But how had his wand been broken?

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He screamed as loud as he could and dropped the wand, clamping his hands down tight over his eyes, as if he could block out the visions. The Unionists, they had come too. He remembered seeing their lines of trenches circling the town, cutting off all escape.

The Secessionists had forced the townspeople all inside their homes while they prepared defences. According to one of the Secessionist soldiers, the regiment their unit belonged to had been ordered to attack some towns in the neighbouring state of North Dakota. The attack had got out of hand and the soldiers got carried away. The towns had been completely destroyed.

He remembered hearing about that attack the previous summer. It had made him even more afraid. The soldiers in the hills surrounding them wanted revenge. The Secessionist soldiers barricading themselves in his town were all that was left of that regiment. First they had destroyed three towns on purpose, now they were trying to use Jackson’s town as a shield. He hated them.

Jackson cried out again, this time in rage. He hated the Unionists too. Now he remembered why he had run. They had attacked. They had come at first light, wearing special armour and firing spells indiscriminately at anything that moved, lobbing things that looked like grenades which exploded with great force, tossing wreckage and people into the air. And that was all he remembered. He didn’t remember anything after that. He remembered the Unionists attacking, and then lying here in the dirt and tall grass, foot draped over a barbed wire fence with a broken wand and his dad’s revolver.

He heard something in the distance. It was a rumbling. It seemed distant, but it was getting closer. It was more like he could feel it through the ground at this point. He wasn’t afraid this time; it was a very different rumbling than the attack. This was steady, as if hundreds of feet pounding the ground at once. It was a comforting sound somehow.

He heard a whinny in the distance. Horses? There weren’t any wild horse herds around here, were there? Mustangs were further west, it couldn’t be. Maybe it was pronghorn, but these sounded heavier than pronghorn. And pronghorn didn’t whinny.

There was a very heavy footstep nearby and he jumped a little in surprise, but didn’t move or look around.

Human?

He jumped again. It had been a very deep voice, but somehow, he felt as though he could have just been imagining it. He groaned. Somehow he felt as though the voice was asking him the question.

Yes, human.

That was a different sounding voice. Or thought. He still wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. He was so tired and thirsty. Yes, I’m human, he thought in reply. Suddenly, he heard a whole outbreak of thought-voices, but none of them seemed to be in response to his own thought.

What’s it doing out here?

I don’t know… looks half dead. Should we leave it?

It’s a wizard, I see a wand.

But I also see one of those Muggle killing things… I don’t like those things much…

Maybe we should just let nature take its course?

I’ll take the boy.

There was a pause as Jackson tried to open his eyes. He managed it and found himself nose to nose with the long face of a chocolate-brown horse. Its eyes were alert, looking into his. The sunlight hurt his eyes and he closed them again.

You’ll take the boy, Epeius? What will you do with it?

Take him back to his own kind.

Jackson moaned. He heard the frustrated grunts of a horse lowering itself to its knees.

Grab my mane, boy, pull yourself up.

“Hurt…” Jackson finally managed to say. He was surprised he could understand himself, his voice came out sounding more like a croaking frog.

I have a very strong mane, now come on… pull yourself on…

Jackson grunted and tried to lift a hand up to the horse’s neck. He felt its wide nose gently nudging his head.

That’s it boy… you’ll get it. Take your time.

Jackson pulled, and managed to get himself closer to the horse’s warm body. There was something very comforting about its presence.

Where will you take it? We heard the attack this morning, can’t be many safe places for it to go, asked another deep voice. The voices still seemed to be in his head. They were so deep and booming they made the ground tremble.

I will take him to the north-lands.

That’s at least three hundred miles!

Am I an Areion, or not?

Jackson grunted and pulled himself up more onto the horse. He paused, looking back down at the ground. The revolver and broken wand were still there. He reached out a trembling hand.

It’s going for the gun! A thought/voice whinnied in fright and anger. There was the sound of many stamping feet.

Oh shut up, the lot of you, does he look like he’s about to shoot anyone? Now he was on the horse, Jackson became aware of something else. The horse’s body had trembled as he heard the voice. He was greeted by an insane thought. Was the horse actually talking?

He felt the horse’s nose nudge him again.

Go on boy.

Jackson didn’t know why, but he nodded, and picked up the pistol. He stuck it into the holster, and then picked up the wand as well.

I don’t know when or if I’ll be back… it’ll be a long time.

You don’t have to do this, Epeius, there are closer towns.

The horse’s shoulders moved strangely under him. Jackson was struck by another strange thought: had the horse just shrugged?

It struggled to its feet but Jackson didn’t feel as though he was going to fall off. In fact, he felt more secure just draped over the horse’s back then he ever had sitting properly in a saddle on the horses back in town.

Ready, boy?

Jackson’s tongue felt too heavy to talk. He simply nodded. The horse snorted and with a roaring thunder of hooves, the horse began to run. But this was different. This was nothing like any other horse he had ever ridden. Hills and fences and random trees whipped past him as the horse rocketed across the ground. Wind whipped his hair and he couldn’t keep his eyes open to look where they were going anymore.

Exhaustion was taking over again. His eyelids felt heavier as he kept them closed. Slowly, despite riding on a horse running many times faster than a normal horse should, that could either talk through thoughts, or could actually speak, Jackson fell asleep.

The clock ticked steadily on the wall. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic for Great Britain, glanced at it and drummed his fingers impatiently. He didn’t like waiting for people, particularly for meetings of this level of importance.

In his head Fudge gave a mirthless snort of laughter. It was almost one year ago to the day that the troubles in America had first wound up in his office, when Dumbledore showed up with one of his professors, requesting he bring over a few handfuls of refugees to attend Hogwarts as a show of good faith. He should have suspected something like this would happen. Nothing with Dumbledore was ever as simple as it seemed.

Fudge forced his face into a smile as he heard the soft knock on the door from his senior under-secretary, Dolores Umbridge.

“Enter,” Fudge called.

The door opened and Dolores beamed at Fudge and said in her most simpering voice. “Mister Solomon Kinney, Envoy from the Free State of North Dakota, to see you, Minister.”

“Thank you, Dolores,” Fudge said and rose from his seat to greet Kinney as he stepped into the room. He did not look at all how Fudge had expected. He looked to be in his early thirties. He had long jet-black hair tied back into a ponytail. He was wearing a snow-white suit with a matching long white coat draped over his arm. He was also holding a white fedora and a shiny brown briefcase. He had a round face but a long thin nose and bright blue eyes.

Kinney bowed deeply to Fudge before he rose and shook Fudge’s outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, Minister. Please accept my warmest gratitude for taking such a personal interest in this case. I must admit I had not expected to be given an audience with Britain’s Minister of Magic himself!”

Well, he’s friendly enough, Fudge thought as he shook.

“Well, it was on my orders, after all, that these children were brought to our nation and given quarter,” Fudge said trying to sound as casual as he could. “Needless to say it has become a personal interest of mine.”

Fudge gestured to the chair in front of his desk and sat. Kinney sat as well and continued to smile pleasantly at Fudge.

“So, if you could be so kind as to tell me the exact nature of your visit, I shall do my utmost to see how well we can accommodate your requests,” Fudge said. He monitored his tone closely as he spoke, trying to find the balance between pleasant and professional. He did not want to show his own hand just yet, not before he got Kinney to show his.

“Well, it is a rather sticky matter, Minister,” Kinney said. “The problem, it seems, is some children who have been sent here have family back home who would like them back.”

Fudge raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?”

“Indeed, yes, Minister,” Kinney said.

“Do you have a list of the students in question?” Fudge asked.

Kinney’s eyes narrowed but Fudge didn’t change his expression. Fudge was hard pressed to hide his smile, but he managed it. So, you don’t like me calling them students and laying my claim on them, do you? Fudge thought as he leaned forward.

“Of course, Minister,” Kinney said and opened the briefcase. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and handed it to Fudge.

Fudge took the sheet and leaned back in his chair. He pulled out his reading glasses and put them on, making a show of reading the list thoroughly. Despite trying to keep his cool exterior, Fudge was having trouble as he processed the names.


Megan Esther Eastman
Tori Alice Hoffman
Adele Ladybird Jackson
Benjamin Thomas Jackson
Mable Ladybird Jackson
Avery Anne McGee
Ellery Anne McGee
Ari Elizabeth Miller
Peyton Holly Riseman
Kaitlyn Marie Tyler
Kenley Rose Tyler


So that’s the game, is it? Fudge thought.

“Well, goodness there does seem to have been a few, doesn’t there?” Fudge said, sounding incredulous. “Though I suppose in the panic over such an attack mistakes most certainly could have—”

“Well they’re not all really mistakes, Minister,” Kinney said pleasantly. “Many of these poor children did lose their parents in the attacks, but they do have other family that would like to see them returned.”

Fudge nodded, looking as though he was thinking hard. He wanted to make Kinney sweat now. He decided to test him.

“Yes, I imagine so… the Johnsons for instance…” Fudge said tapping on the names of the three Jackson children.

Kinney’s eyes narrowed. “Jacksons,” he said flatly.

Well, you passed that test, but you still failed the class, Fudge thought.

“The thing is… there’s a distinct problem that I see with this list,” Fudge said. He removed his glasses and laid the list on the table, tapping it with a finger.

“I assure you, Minister, the list is perfectly accurate,” Kinney said.

Fudge sighed, “Oh I’m sure it’s perfectly accurate from your point of view, Mister Kinney. However, from my point of view there are several problems with this list,” he said gravely. “The first, it was clearly compiled by someone with an agenda. And not an agenda I approve of. The second is that it was compiled by someone who clearly believes my staff, including myself, to be completely incompetent.”

Kinney’s face turned to stone as Fudge picked up the list again. “Kaitlyn and Kenley Tyler… the poor dears… must have lost everything mustn’t they? Never mind the fact I have personally spoken with their still very much alive parents. Charming folk, Muggles you know? And I believe at this very moment they are touring Unionist states speaking out against the Secessionist states aren’t they?”

Kinney again gave no reaction, but to Fudge that was an even bigger indicator he had Kinney caught than if he had reacted. Kinney clearly knew he was caught, what more was there for him to do or say?

“The really amusing one, which was the biggest give-away, by the way, was the inclusion of Miss Hoffman,” Fudge went on setting the parchment back down on the desk and sliding it across to Kinney. “Really, did you think I wouldn’t remember the name of the mayor of Rollen, one of the three towns destroyed that summer? The man who led all those poor people to safety?”

Kinney’s face still looked as though it was made of stone as he reached up and took the parchment. He simply placed it back inside his briefcase and closed it with a snap.

“I’ll give you credit on your homework though, slipping in Miss Riseman. I suppose she was an attempt to give the list credibility?” Fudge asked, looking at Kinney shrewdly. “Yes, slipping in an orphan was a nice touch, except per my information, her parents abandoned her at the age of seven when she first began to show magical powers and were informed of her true nature as a witch. As a result, despite being fully adopted and cared for since then by the Riseman family, the poor dear has had serious trust issues as I have been told by the Hogwarts matron. The Risemans, incidentally, are in one of your camps that we keep hearing about, is that correct?”

The only movement Kinney made was to narrow his eyes further. “The Jacksons were a nice touch as well, weren’t they?” Fudge added. “Family originally from Texas I believe? Had the list just been them I may have been inclined to believe you.”

Fudge leaned forward on his desk once more, studying Kinney. “What are you really after? To silence these families? Blackmail? Con us into turning these children over to your custody so you can hold them hostage? Kill them as a threat to others who may attempt to follow their parents’ lead maybe? Clever, but not clever enough.”

Kinney made to rise from his chair but Fudge glared. “You will remain in your seat until I dismiss you, Mister Kinney,” Fudge barked.

Kinney sat again.

“I do not take kindly to these sorts of actions, Mister Kinney. Nor do I take kindly to being thought so low of. You should have suspected something the moment I requested you speak to me on this matter personally, rather than a lower office.”

Fudge rose from his seat, leaning down on his desk to look down on Kinney. “I will permit you to leave our shores back to your country just this once, Mister Kinney. Should I, or any of my staff, hear of you being seen in this country again, it will not end well for you.”

Kinney did not look intimidated. “Very well then, Minister, our business is concluded.”

“Very good,” Fudge said, still leaning down over Kinney. “Auror John Dawlish will accompany you on your way out of our country. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Minister,” Kinney said. He rose and put on his hat.

Almost on cue, the door to the office opened and Dawlish stepped inside.

“Thank you, Dawlish,” Fudge said.

Dawlish nodded. “At your service, Minister. Come, Mister Kinney, your flight awaits.”

Kinney turned. He walked to the door but paused on the threshold. “One last thing, Minister?”

Fudge didn’t react, just kept looking at Kinney.

“Since my side fired first, you may think you’re on the right side, supporting the Unionists,” Kinney said. He opened his briefcase one more time and drew out a newspaper. He tossed it onto Fudge’s desk. “But maybe you’ll think more carefully now?”

He stepped from Fudge’s office and Dawlish closed the door after them. Fudge finally sat down and looked at the newspaper on his desk. The headline made his jaw clench.

Fudge sighed. What had Dumbledore really got him into?

“Well done, Minister,” a voice said from Fudge’s fireplace. Fudge closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Howe, for alerting me,” Fudge said. He looked over to see the trim figure of Sherrod Howe rising from one of Fudge’s high-backed armchairs by his fireplace where he had been sitting and listening in.

“But of course, Minister,” Howe said striding towards Fudge’s desk.

Fudge held up the newspaper for him.

“I hope you and Dumbledore know what you’re doing getting wrapped up in this?” Fudge asked.

Howe took the paper and read the headline as well. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“What?” Fudge asked frowning.

“Secessionists attack three Unionist towns, destroy them all, kill thousands, and the papers treat it as though it was bound to happen. Unionist forces attack a town of a couple hundred and suddenly it’s a catastrophe. Everyone wants to stick up for the underdog, I guess,” Howe said dropping the paper back on Fudge’s desk.

“That’s not the point, Howe,” Fudge snapped. “I was on the side of the victims, now I’m on the side of the retaliators who killed a town full of Muggles.”

Howe looked at Fudge disapproving. “This is a war, Fudge, people die… you should remember that.”

Fudge glowered. “True…”

Howe picked up the paper again and perused the article. “Lot left out of this… the unit that was in the town was the 47th… the same unit that attacked Rollen, Belview and St James… apparently they commandeered the town as a last line of defence against the Unionist forces pursuing them.”

Fudge glowered at Howe as Howe replaced the newspaper on the desk. He hated how Howe always knew so much more than he did. If possible, Howe was worse about it than Dumbledore. And that was saying something.

“Well… still… I’ll have to answer for this to the Prophet tomorrow… ‘How can you throw in your lot with those barbarians?’” Fudge said. “Rita Skeeter will be beside herself with delight.”

He sighed. “All the same, thank you. As much as I am… we shall say displeased with this recent turn of events,” Fudge said, tapping the article. “I was not about to allow innocent children be turned over to the likes of Kinney… whatever his plot was.”

Howe smiled. “Glad to hear it, Minister.”

Fudge looked up at him shrewdly. “I suspect you want something for bringing this information forward? You and Dumbledore always do.”

Howe’s smile did not falter. Instead, from nowhere he produced a newspaper of his own. “Oh just a trifling matter. A favour really. Not even a repayment.”

Fudge sat back in his chair. “Really?” It was impossible to hide the scepticism in his voice.

“Oh yes,” Howe said holding out the paper to Fudge. “I believe tonight is your annual inspection of Azkaban Prison?”

Fudge shivered. As if he needed reminding. “It is.”

“Well then, would you mind passing this along to Sirius Black?” Howe asked, still holding out the paper.

Fudge blinked. “You want me to deliver a newspaper to Sirius Black?”

“Not deliver, really, just, as long as you’re heading that way,” Howe said smiling warmly.

Fudge took the paper but didn’t look at it. He was thinking hard. He remembered some connection between Black and Howe. Nothing sinister, but somehow it sparked his memory. Then he remembered. He looked up to see Howe was almost to the door.

“Didn’t you resign over the Black case?” Fudge asked.

Howe paused. “What do you mean Black case…? There has to be an investigation for there to be a case, Minister.”

Howe turned and looked back at Fudge one last time. “I just recall he liked crosswords. The one in today’s Prophet was particularly good. I just thought he’d like it.”

Howe turned back to the door and walked out, closing it gently behind him. Fudge looked down at the paper. In spite of all that had happened, the photograph on the front page made him smile. It was a photograph of the Weasley family.

He never saw Arthur Weasley very often. He only held a minor role in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But Fudge understood him to be a polite man who took his job very seriously and had a large family. He had even written the recent Muggle Protection Act which Fudge had just signed last week.

Apparently Arthur Weasley had won the Daily Prophet’s Grand Prize Galleon Draw. It was a wonderful thing to happen to a family who only a few weeks ago had come so close to suffering a serious tragedy during the Heir of Slytherin fiasco at Hogwarts. Their youngest daughter it seemed had been taken by the Heir’s monster, which turned out to be a basilisk.

The girl, Ginny was her name, had been saved from death by none other than Harriet Potter herself. The whole story had seemed rather far-fetched to Fudge at first. However, on his return visit to Hogwarts that day, after arresting and bringing in Gilderoy Lockhart for at least ten counts of illegal memory-modification and identity theft, Fudge had indeed been shown the body of the basilisk, killed in a way that complied perfectly with Potter’s account of the events.

Fudge looked back down at the photograph. They did seem a good family. Every one of them were smiling warmly and waving at the camera. The second youngest girl even had her pet rat on her shoulder. In spite of himself, Fudge simply smiled, opened up his own briefcase, and slid the newspaper inside.

Chapter Text

Number Four, Privet Drive, was a perfectly normal house, and inside it lived a perfectly normal family. At least that was what the family who lived in Number Four wanted all the other perfectly normal families in the neighbourhood to think. However, every now and then, odd things would happen around Number Four that were difficult for the rest of the street to ignore.

The first incident was that night twelve years ago when a motorbike had roared up to Number Four in the middle of the night, paused and then roared off again. Many in the neighbourhood heard it, but by a freak coincidence all of the street lamps had gone out on Privet Drive that night, so no one actually saw the brute that had created all the noise.

Then there was the summer two years ago when the denizens of Privet Drive started to notice a large concentration of owls appearing around Number Four. At first it was only one or two, swooping in early in the morning. Then more and more came until a flock of them were swooping down on the house. This only ended when the family that lived at Number Four packed up mysteriously and fled for two days.

Last summer it was the mysterious car that had awoken everyone in the middle of the night, but again, no one saw the offending vehicle. All anyone saw when they looked out their windows at Number Four was the man who lived there, Vernon Dursley, hanging out of one of the upstairs windows with his bony wife, Petunia, and portly son, Dudley, trying to pull him back inside.

Those were the big, and admittedly, rare events. The most common disturbances from Number Four were the loud shouting matches that would break out between Vernon Dursley and his niece, Harriet Potter. The most recent, as far as the neighbours could tell, was over the girl giving out their telephone number to someone of whom Vernon Dursley disapproved. Fortunately, it had been over a month since that incident, and life in Privet Drive had returned to its normal quiet routine.

Unbeknownst to any of the surrounding neighbours, the Dursley family lived in fear. In particular, they lived in fear of anyone finding out that Harriet was not a normal little girl. In fact, Harriet was about as abnormal as it was possible to be.

Because of this, the Dursleys had spent years spreading as many rumours about Harriet as they could to keep anyone from talking to her. Even their son, Dudley, had spent much of his time in primary school making sure Harriet didn’t have a single friend. All of that changed the summer of 1991, when Harriet received a letter that changed her life forever.

Contrary to everything the Dursleys had told their neighbours for years, Harriet was not a delinquent with criminal tendencies who attended Lady Desdemona’s Academy for Determinedly Delinquent Girls. In reality, Harriet was a quiet girl who loved everybody and attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That was what was so abnormal about Harriet Potter. She was a witch.

More than that, Harriet seemed to have a knack for attracting trouble. In the last two years since Harriet received her life-changing letter from Hogwarts, she had become the youngest player ever to be picked for a Hogwarts house Quidditch team, been nearly crushed by a mountain troll, been nearly torn apart by a giant three headed dog, taken a potion that transformed her into another person, met Aragog the acromantula and nearly been eaten by his horse-sized offspring, and killed the first basilisk to be seen in Britain in over four hundred years.

Worse than that, she had also come face to face with Lord Voldemort twice. Harriet still did not know why Lord Voldemort had tried to kill her in the first place. The Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had told her that he would tell her when she was older, and she would have to be patient until then.

At the end of her first year, Harriet met Lord Voldemort after her friends had helped her get through a series of obstacles set up by the Hogwarts staff to protect the Philosopher’s Stone. Harriet had managed to stop him thanks to the lingering magical enchantment her mother had left, an enchantment that prevented Professor Quirrell, who was sharing a body with Lord Voldemort, from touching her skin. Voldemort was forced to flee, killing Quirrell in the process.

At the end of her second year, Harriet came face to face with Voldemort’s sixteen-year old self, Tom Riddle. Riddle had preserved himself in a memory he had enchanted in a diary. In that time, Voldemort had proved just how powerful he still was. He had enchanted one of Harriet’s friends, Ginny Weasley, into opening the legendary Chamber of Secrets to carrying out a series of attacks; petrifying a cat, several students and even a ghost, before Harriet stopped him and his basilisk.

It was that last encounter that had given Harriet the most trouble afterwards. Not only had Riddle enchanted Ginny, but he had invaded and manipulated Harriet’s dreams. A month and a half later, Harriet still had trouble sleeping because of it; afraid he would appear again.

He had also tried to convince Harriet to join him and restore him to power. After he discovered that Harriet couldn’t die because of her mother’s sacrifice, that she wasn’t “special” after all, he had attempted to kill her through his basilisk. Thanks to Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, who not only blinded the basilisk, but brought the Sorting Hat which provided Godric Gryffindor’s sword. Harriet was able to use the sword to kill both the basilisk and destroy Riddle’s diary.

In spite of all those harrowing experiences, the last two years had easily been the best of Harriet’s life. It wasn’t the adventures, or the fact she was famous, or even because of Quidditch. No. The best thing to happen to Harriet since she received her letter was she had finally made friends. Not just any friends, wonderful friends: Ronnie Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dora Flamel, Kieran O’Brien, Marcus Van De Lakk, and Scott McIntyre. She had also become good friends with Rubeus Hagrid, the massive gamekeeper for Hogwarts who was twice as tall as a normal man but was the gentlest person Harriet had ever known.

Harriet had also managed to make a few friends from the group of refugee students who had come from the war in America the previous summer. Harriet had spent much of the summer wondering if the war was over yet. On the one hand, she wished it was, because she didn’t want more people to die. But on the other hand, a strange part of Harriet hoped it wasn’t, because she wasn’t sure she was ready for them all to leave.

The new students hadn’t been very well received at first, and the incident with the Chamber didn’t help matters. Many of the regular students blamed the new students for the attacks. The new students even disappeared for a couple weeks, and were later revealed to be hiding in a place called the Room of Requirement, a secret room in Hogwarts that could provide anything its occupants desired except for food.

Despite having such great friends, Harriet had not heard much from them over the summer, but she knew they were mostly busy. Ronnie had said she was going to Egypt with her family to visit her eldest brother, Bill. Hermione and Dora were both on family holidays in France. Marcus was busy taking part in Gilderoy Lockhart’s trial. This meant her most regular correspondents were Kieran and Scott.

The most amusing incident happened one week into the summer, when Harriet had received a phone call from Ronnie. It might have worked if not for an unfortunate set of circumstances. The first unfortunate circumstance was that it had been Uncle Vernon who answered the phone. The second was, in an effort to make absolutely sure she was heard, Ronnie chose to shout into the telephone receiver as loudly as she could. The third was when Ronnie made the fatal mistake of mentioning Hogwarts.

Uncle Vernon had been furious. He shouted a lot, which hadn’t been pleasant at the time, but in hindsight Harriet actually had to admit the sight of Uncle Vernon puffed up like an elephant seal, spit flying as he yelled was rather funny. As had been the look of shock on his face when Ronnie began shouting into the phone.

Since then, Harriet had received a letter here and there from each of her friends. The biggest improvement over the last summer was that unlike last summer, Harriet was now allowed to let her owl, Hedwig, go out and hunt at night. Uncle Vernon had made her swear not to use Hedwig to send any letters, but Harriet had ignored him.

She had also managed to get around Uncle Vernon locking her school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs that had once been her bedroom. Early in the summer, Harriet had waited for the Dursleys to leave the house for a while, snuck down stairs and picked the lock to the cupboard under the stairs. She had learned how the previous summer from Fred and George, her best friend Ronnie’s older twin brothers. She took all her necessary schoolbooks, quills, ink and parchment. She also snuck out a few more of the Nancy Drew books that Hermione had given her at the end of their first year.

At the moment, however, Harriet was doing homework. She had her copy of A History of Magic propped open, working on an essay for Professor Binns’ class. She also had a torch held in the crook of her neck, which was starting to hurt from the continued effort of holding the torch. She felt a yawn coming on and set the torch down.

Harriet felt some of the fresh summer air on her face as she lifted the covers. It felt pleasant and cool and she smiled and decided to call it a night. She turned off her torch, closed her book, put the cap back on her ink bottle, and began to put it all into an old pillow case, getting ready to hide it under the loose floorboard under her bed.

The Harriet Potter who slid out from under the covers was much changed from the Harriet Potter who had lived in this room the previous summer. She had grown several inches over the past year, and was beginning to fill out a little. She had a straight nose and high cheekbones, with almond-shaped, brilliantly green eyes.

She was dressed simply in an oversized t-shirt and soft athletic shorts she had been given by Ginny while staying with the Weasley’s the previous summer. Her straight, jet-black hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, her fringe pinned at her right temple by a silver-cat hair-clip that had been given to her on her very first day at Hogwarts by fellow Gryffindor, Lavender Brown.

The way it was pinned hid the lightning shaped scar on her forehead, the lone sign of what made Harriet so remarkable. It was the mark from where the curse Lord Voldemort had fired at her had hit. But instead of killing her, it rebounded upon Voldemort and destroyed his body and most of his powers. All it had given Harriet was the scar, which she usually kept covered with her hair to keep people from staring at her.

Harriet looked at the clock as she swung her legs out of bed and paused. Her heart skipped a beat. She had been thirteen for a whole hour already. She was finally a teenager. A thrill of excitement swept over Harriet. Sure she was all alone and there was no one around to share the moment, but it didn’t matter. She had reached one of life’s milestones.

She hopped out of bed as quietly as she could and did a little dance. She paused afterwards, cringing and listening hard, hoping she hadn’t woken the Dursleys. Fortunately, Uncle Vernon and Dudley’s snores continued unabated.

Harriet sighed in relief and moved to the window, scanning the sky. It was the third night of her snowy owl, Hedwig’s, absence. She’d been gone longer than this before but Harriet still missed her.

Harriet stretched and looked up at the night sky again. As she did, she squinted looking at the moon. There was something moving, silhouetted against the silvery orb, coming in Harriet’s direction. It was moving awkwardly, and Harriet squinted harder. Harriet gasped as she recognized what it was, and stepped aside.

A half a minute later, seven owls flew through the window. Or rather, six owls flew through the window, with two of them carrying a seventh. The last two owls fluttered onto Harriet’s bed, setting down the owl they were carrying in a gentle, almost reverent way. Harriet had no trouble recognizing most of the owls. The easiest to recognize was Hedwig. Apart from Hedwig there was Hesper, Marcus’ owl, and Adal, who belonged to Scott. The seventh owl who had been set down gently on the bed was Errol.

Harriet removed the parcel that Errol had been carrying and scooped him up into her arms. She laid him as gently as she could into Hedwig’s cage. Errol gave one little hoot of thanks before he managed to get to his aged talons and drink. Harriet smiled warmly at him before she turned back to the other owls. She almost gave out a laugh as she saw them. All six of the remaining owls were lined up on the edge of her bed, looking up at her with interest and holding out their legs.

“Oh relax you lot, I can’t open them all at once,” Harriet whispered as she crossed back to the owls. She knelt and one by one untied their parcels. She started with Hedwig’s, then Adal’s, then Hesper’s. The next owl was a handsome barn owl. Harriet smiled to see From Kieran on the card that came with the owl’s parcel. The next was a large eagle-owl who Harriet was sure was the Flamel family owl. The final owl was a Tawny, and its letter bore the unmistakable Hogwarts School crest.

Harriet opened each and every parcel one by one. As she did, with the exception of Hedwig and Errol, each owl spread its wings and flew out the window into the night. Each parcel contained a present and a birthday card. Harriet opened Ronnie’s card first. Inside was the clipping from the newspaper article about the Weasley’s winning seven-hundred galleons from the Daily Prophet and going on vacation to Egypt.

Harriet beamed as she looked down at the moving photograph that accompanied the clipping. She giggled quietly at the sight of the Weasley family waving up at her merrily. There was Mr and Mrs Weasley right in the centre, with their arms around a man Harriet had never seen before. She supposed it must be the eldest Weasley son, Bill.

As Harriet got a good look at Bill, she felt her stomach get fluttery. He was very handsome, and more than that, he was undeniably cool. He had long hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a dragon-hide jacket. Harriet bit her lip and forced herself to look at the rest of the picture. There was Fred and George, both laughing merrily, and Percy who looked more smug than usual for some reason. Finally she looked at Ronnie and Ginny. Ronnie was hugging Ginny from behind, Scabbers on her shoulder, both beaming.

Harriet read Ronnie’s note. She couldn’t help but giggle more as Ronnie described her adventures in Egypt. Fred and George attempting to lock Percy in a tomb, the bizarre curses that Egyptian wizards put on their tombs and all the mutated skeletons inside of unfortunate grave-robbing Muggles, and how happy she was for her family to finally have some gold. They would be back a week before returning to Hogwarts, and would go to Diagon Alley.

Harriet’s stomach lurched. How was she going to get to Diagon Alley this year? The Dursleys were unlikely to take her. She put it from her mind for now and finished reading. Apparently Percy had just been named Head Boy. That explained the smug look on his face in the Daily Prophet cutting.

Harriet opened Ronnie’s present now. She gave a soft “ooo” as she pulled out what looked like a small glass spinning top. She looked it over closely, running her fingers along its smooth lines. She set it down on its point on the desk beside her and went to spin it but found she couldn’t. Instead her fingers slipped and she almost gave a shriek of fright, expecting it to fall off the desk, but again she was surprised. Instead of falling, the little top stayed perfectly upright, solid as a rock. Harriet looked in the box it had come in and found another note from Ronnie.


Harriet,
This is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s someone untrustworthy around it’s supposed to light up and spin. Thought it would be handy in case You-Know-Who ever showed up again. Bill said it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn’t know Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

XO,
Ronnie


Harriet looked at the Sneakoscope with interest. Well, even if it didn’t work very well, it was really pretty, and at least it wasn’t lighting up right now. Now she turned to the card and presents that Hedwig had brought. This was from Hermione, and the present was quite heavy.

Harriet imagined it was going to be a book, but she put it down and opened the letter and read. By the end of this letter, Harriet’s smile had grown even more. It was twice as long as Ronnie’s had been, detailing her jealousy at being unable to visit Egypt as well. Harriet also had to smile up at Hedwig when she read how Hedwig had turned up to take her present for her.

“Awwww, you flew all the way to France to make sure I got a present?” Harriet asked as quietly as she could. Hedwig puffed up her feathers and clicked her beak proudly.

Harriet smiled and read on. She almost laughed out loud when she read Hermione’s PS:


Ronnie says Percy’s Head Boy. I’ll bet Percy’s really pleased. Ronnie doesn’t seem too happy about it. Also, I blush writing it but, is it just me or does Ronnie’s brother, Bill, seem very, well, interesting?


Harriet rolled her eyes and muttered “No, it’s not just you,” under her breath as she set down the note and picked up the present. Harriet gasped as she pulled off the wrapping paper. It was not a book. Instead it was a black leather case, with silver lettering that formed the words Broomstick Servicing Kit.

“Oh wow,” Harriet said reverently as she opened the case. Inside she found handle-polish, tail-twig clippers, a compass to clip onto your broom, and a handbook on how best to use everything in the kit.

The next parcel was Kieran’s. Not being on vacation, his letter was a simple wish of happy birthday and the hope she would find her present useful for this coming year. Harriet beamed as she opened it and found it was a brand-new pair of shin, knee and elbow pads for Quidditch.

Scott’s present it turned out came with some assembly required. It was a brand-new cage for Hedwig, larger and stronger than the old one.

“Heh, you probably could have used this last summer, huh?” Harriet asked Hedwig. Hedwig gave an indignant hoot and her amber eyes narrowed. Harriet was sure that like her, Hedwig would never forget their eventful trip to Hogwarts in Mister Weasley’s flying car.

Marcus’ letter was even longer than Hermione’s, and it also contained a newspaper clipping. However, this time it wasn’t just a little clipped out article. It was an entire front page:

So they convicted him after all? Good, she thought turning to Marcus’ letter. She could never forgive Lockhart for all the horrible things he’d done. Taking credit for what so many other people had done. And especially not for trying to run out on Ginny, preferring to leave her to die and save himself.

Marcus’ letter turned out to be a play by play of the trial.

“Heh, guess I won’t get on your bad-side,” Harriet muttered as she read.

The end of the letter filled Harriet with a twinge of jealousy. Squeezed in at the bottom of the page and continued on the back was his description of travelling to Canada with Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore had apparently been watching the trial and approached Marcus after to ask him to come to Canada with him.

Apparently there was a new refugee who was going to be coming; a boy in their year. Professor Dumbledore wanted Marcus along to greet the new boy and tell him what life at Hogwarts was like to help him be more comfortable with the relocation. Harriet smiled. Jealous as she was, she had to admit that Marcus was the best choice.

Marcus’ present was about the size of Ronnie’s, though Harriet had to admit it would probably be more useful. She had to laugh too, as despite how dissimilar Hermione and Marcus were, how similar their presents ended up being. While Hermione had given her a magical broom-stick servicing kit, Marcus had given her a magical eye-glass servicing kit.

Harriet now turned to Dora’s present. Dora’s letter was predictably very ‘Dora.’


Harriet,
Having a good time. Family’s great. Thought you’d like this. I noticed last Christmas that you only had through number fifteen. So I got you number sixteen so you could keep reading.

Lots of Love,
Dora

P.S. Remember, if they give you any trouble: termites.


Harriet rolled her eyes again but smiled and opened Dora’s present. She almost squealed with excitement. It was The Clue of the Tapping Heels, the sixteenth in her Nancy Drew mystery series. Hermione had indeed only given her through fifteen and she’d already read all of them several times.

Now she turned to the last parcel. This one was from Hagrid. Her grin grew as she started to tear the present open but to her fright, something inside the package snapped and snarled.

“Oh no,” Harriet muttered as the package thudded to the floor.

It didn’t move anymore, and Harriet clamped her eyes shut and listened hard. She was sure the Dursleys would have heard the sound of the present dropping to the floor. To her relief, the snores continued.

Harriet looked down at the parcel again. It was no longer moving, but she cautiously took her torch from the pillow case and prepared to poke the present. Harriet didn’t know what was in the package, but knowing Hagrid, it could be anything. Being twice as tall, and three times as wide as a normal man, Hagrid didn’t have quite the same sense of what was dangerous as other people did.

Harriet remembered all too well how Hagrid had once smuggled an illegal dragon egg into the school. Furthermore, it was Hagrid who had taken care of Aragog the spider as a pet before the spider escaped during the first Chamber of Secrets incident. Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts over the incident and had his wand snapped in half. Even fifty years later, the lingering guilt over the incident had caused Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, to arrest Hagrid as a suspect when the Chamber was opened again last year. It was Harriet and her friends who proved Hagrid’s innocence.

Harriet prodded the package. It snapped again and flopped around. Harriet bit her lip, thinking hard. She wanted to pounce on it, but she didn’t want to hurt whatever it was inside. At the same time, she didn’t want whatever it was to hurt her either. She spotted a piece of the packaging that had come off. She reached down and took hold of it as gently as possible. Then she leaned back and yanked as hard as she could on the paper. The package tumbled and the paper finally came off.

Harriet blinked in surprise. It was not some creature, it was a book; a large book with a handsome green cover and golden words that read The Monster Book of Monsters. Harriet barely had time to finish reading the title when the book jumped, flipped onto its edge and scuttled along the edge of her bed and under her desk.

“Great,” Harriet muttered and lowered herself down onto the floor.

She knelt low and turned on her torch, spotting the book hiding underneath the desk. She bit her lip, thinking hard. The book seemed to be able to bite rather hard, so Harriet wasn’t all that anxious to stick her hand in to attempt to grab it. She decided to turn off the torch and turn it around, attempting to prod the book out from under the desk. She poked it and the book snapped angrily and finally scuttled out into the open.

Harriet pounced, squashing the book down hard against the floor. It shuddered under her, but her weight was sufficient to keep it from snapping anymore. Harriet looked around for something to restrain the book. She slid across the floor with it, keeping it pinned, back to her bed. She pried up the loose floorboard and from it took a small coil of clothesline she had snuck from the garden shed.

She had snuck it out with other intentions in mind, but now had found a better use for it. She moved off the book just quick enough to grab it up and begin wrapping the clothesline around it. She tied it as tight as she could and tossed the book onto the bed. It shivered and struggled more before finally going motionless.

Harriet sighed in relief and finally picked up Hagrid’s card.


Dear Harriet,
Happy Birthday!

Think you’ll find this useful for next year. Won’t say no more here.

Tell you when I see you.

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

All the best,
Hagrid.


Harriet twisted her mouth in worry. The fact that Hagrid thought a book that tried to bite like an animal would come in useful was not reassuring. Remembering Norbert the baby dragon, Aragog the acromantula, and Fluffy the Cerberus, the possibilities of what horrifying new creature Hagrid had managed to procure were endless.

In spite of this, Harriet picked up all her cards and letters and put them up on her desk. She grinned warmly before she finally picked up her Hogwarts letter. It felt heavier than in previous years.

There were two pieces of parchment inside the envelope this time. The first was full of the usual information about the Hogwarts Express leaving from Platform 9¾ at eleven-o-clock on September the first. What made Harriet’s heart leap, however, was the added information at the bottom of the letter.

Third years and older are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. As a third year student, please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

Harriet gave a soft groan as she pulled out the permission form. She would love the chance to visit Hogsmeade, but how on earth was she going to get Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign it? The Dursleys wouldn’t willingly do anything that made Harriet happy if they could help it.

Harriet glanced at her alarm clock and saw it was just past two-o-clock in the morning. Knowing she couldn’t do anything about the form now, Harriet put the form, her new monster book, and all of her presents into the pillow case and neatly tucked it all into the space under the loose floorboard under her bed. Then she climbed back into bed, took off her glasses, and lay facing her cards. She beamed, gave one last giggle of happiness, and finally closed her eyes.

* * * *

Harriet’s good feelings did not last long the next day. It wasn’t the Dursleys predictably forgetting her birthday for the third year in a row. It was the news that Aunt Marge was coming to visit for an entire week. Even though Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister, and thus not a direct relative of Harriet’s, she had still been forced to call her aunt all her life.

If possible, Aunt Marge and Harriet hated each other even more than Harriet and Uncle Vernon did. Aunt Marge lived out in the country where she bred bulldogs, and thus did not often come to stay. However, Harriet could remember each of her visits with burning clarity.

There was Dudley’s fifth birthday, when Aunt Marge would hit Harriet around the shins with her cane when no one was looking to stop Harriet from beating Dudley at musical statues. Then when Harriet was eight Aunt Marge had given Harriet dog biscuits for Christmas. During her last visit, the summer Harriet turned ten, Harriet accidently stepped on the tail of Aunt Marge’s favourite bulldog, Ripper. Ripper chased Harriet up a tree and Aunt Marge didn’t call Ripper off until midnight. It was one of Dudley’s favourite memories.

From the moment that Aunt Marge walked in, Harriet knew it was going to be one of the worst weeks of her life. In spite of this, Harriet had seen an opportunity. Just before Uncle Vernon left to pick up Aunt Marge from the train station, Harriet stopped him, and after a slick bit of negotiating, Harriet managed to convince Uncle Vernon to sign her form for her after Aunt Marge’s visit as long as Harriet was on her best behaviour during Aunt Marge’s stay and promised not to say anything about her true identity as a witch.

Harriet then sent Hedwig off with Errol to stay at the Weasleys. Not that Harriet wanted to, but she didn’t want to risk having Uncle Vernon sign her Hogsmeade form. Harriet was sure if Aunt Marge found out Harriet owned an owl, it would be a deal-breaker with Uncle Vernon.

As Aunt Marge entered Number Four, Harriet braced herself for the worst. Aunt Marge looked very much like Uncle Vernon to the extent she even had a moustache. Aunt Marge brushed past Harriet, shoving her suitcase into Harriet’s stomach as she rushed to greet Dudley. She gave Dudley a big hug, and kiss, and a twenty-pound note.

Harriet wasted no time taking Aunt Marge’s suitcase upstairs to the spare bedroom. Any time not spent in the company of Aunt Marge was a blessing. She put down the suitcase and returned to the kitchen grudgingly. Harriet was usually content to stay in her room, but she knew Aunt Marge wouldn’t allow it. Aunt Marge wanted Harriet in sight at all times when she visited, ready to be criticized and picked on whenever Aunt Marge felt the urge.

The Dursleys were all sitting around the kitchen table when Harriet came back down, drinking tea and eating fruitcake. While there were five chairs around the table, there had only been four places set. Harriet was getting nothing. Even Ripper the bulldog had been given tea.

They were all talking about Aunt Marge’s bulldog breeding when Harriet sat down.

“So!” Aunt Marge boomed in her most threatening voice. “Still here are you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harriet replied, trying her best to sound gracious and polite.

Aunt Marge’s eyes narrowed. Harriet knew she should have replied in a snooty, rude way. It would have made Aunt Marge even happier to have an excuse to yell at her. Uncle Vernon glared at her too and Harriet smiled on the inside. She loved making Uncle Vernon squirm. She had promised to be behaved during Aunt Marge’s visit, not make Aunt Marge happy.

“Where is it you go to school again, girl?” Aunt Marge growled.

“Lady Desdemona’s,” Uncle Vernon butted in. “A first rate institution, it’s done a marvellous job as you can see.”

Aunt Marge still didn’t look pleased. “Very well, I’m assuming they use the cane at Lady Desdemona’s?” she asked shrewdly.

Uncle Vernon shot Harriet a quick glance.

“Oh yes,” Harriet said, nodding as seriously as she could. “All the time, Aunt Marge.”

“Very good,” Aunt Marge said and smiled. Apparently the thought of Harriet getting hit with a cane was good enough for her. “I’m so sick of this namby-pamby nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it! How often are you beaten, girl?”

“Not often anymore, Aunt Marge,” Harriet said in her most pleasant tone. “I’ve been learning very well since I started. I never get the urge to steal or lie anymore,” Harriet said, hoping the added touch would please Aunt Marge even more.

“Excellent,” Aunt Marge said.

“So, did you catch the news this morning, Marge?” Uncle Vernon said, drawing the subject back off Harriet as he poured her more tea. “What about that escaped prisoner, eh?”

“He should have been put to death the moment he was declared guilty!” Aunt Marge boomed hitting her fist on the table. “Uncouth wastrel!”

Harriet grimaced. They were back on the subject of Sirius Black. Harriet had heard about his escape on the news that morning. The news had been lean on details, but being a member of the magical world, Harriet knew more about the incident than the Dursleys did. Just as Harriet was not a normal girl, Sirius Black was not a normal convict.

He was a wizard too. One of the most feared wizards of all time after Lord Voldemort. In fact, he was Lord Voldemort’s second in command before the fateful night that Voldemort murdered Harriet’s parents and left her with her scar. Black was even more infamous for the incident in which he murdered thirteen people with a single curse shortly before his capture. The thought of Black being on the loose filled Harriet with a twinge of dread.

“This country has gotten far too wishy-washy for me in recent years,” Aunt Marge continued. “Now if this were the States we could deal with the ilk of this Black character properly!”

Aunt Marge took another sip of her tea. “Though I dare-say I don’t much fancy their weather. More stupid people killed in the central states by tornadoes. Another ruddy town was wiped off the map by them last June! Everyone tries to give them sympathy but you know what I say?! If they don’t want to live where there’s tornadoes then they should ruddy-well move!”

Aunt Marge slammed her fist down on the table, splashing tea all over the table top. Aunt Petunia whimpered. Harriet meanwhile felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. More towns destroyed by tornadoes? Did that mean there had been more attacks? Harriet remembered how the attacks the previous summer had been reported as tornadoes. Harriet sighed. It looked like the new students were not going to be going home anytime soon.

As Aunt Marge’s stay went on, Harriet couldn’t help but miss life at Privet Drive without her. Despite her pleasure that Harriet was going to a school that beat her if she misbehaved, Aunt Marge still found plenty of ways to criticize Harriet. First she was irritable with Harriet over hiding her scar.

“It’s the mark of how your parents died, girl! Shameful of you to hide it!”

So Harriet changed her hairstyle to show the scar.

“What are you doing parading that horrible scar around?! It’s revolting!”

The problem was, the more Aunt Marge drank, the worse she got. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon had prepared ahead of time for Aunt Marge’s stay, because there was no shortage of gin, wine, bourbon, brandy, rum, or scotch anywhere in the house. The worst times were when Aunt Marge found it necessary to predict Harriet’s future misdeeds, or criticized Harriet’s parents. Unfortunately, Aunt Marge preferred to do both at the same time.

“Well she seems good now, Vernon, but mark my words, the moment that girl gets out of that school it will be straight back to her old ways. Just like her mother, and I daresay much like her father. Probably wind up on the streets, selling herself for drugs. Her mother was probably the same way, I dare say. That’s probably how she came to be in the first place!”

It happened in a flash. The wine-glass Aunt Marge was holding shattered, spraying bits of glass and wine everywhere. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both cried in shock.

“MARGE!” Aunt Petunia shrieked. “Are you alright?!”

“Oh not to worry,” Aunt Marge said with a drunken wave of her hand. “I must have squeezed it too hard. Got a very firm grip! You need it raising bulldogs!”

Harriet wasted no time in sneaking off from the dinner table. She wasn’t entirely sure if she had broken the glass or not. It had been a long time since she had lost control of her magic. Harriet had more to worry about than just the ability to go into Hogsmeade. If she wasn’t careful, she could be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic for doing magic outside school.

The main thing that got Harriet through Aunt Marge’s stay was having her homework to do, her broomstick servicing kit manual, and the copy of The Clue of the Tapping Heels to pass the time at night. This worked so well that Harriet was finally starting to view Aunt Marge’s stay more optimistically.

However, Harriet found out that this buffer could only carry her so far. The final night of Aunt Marge’s stay tested Harriet to her breaking point. Aunt Marge had launched into another attack on the character of Harriet’s parents. Harriet had been unable to do anything but sit and close her eyes at the dinner table, fighting back tears.

Aunt Marge had been relentless. She had decided to focus on Harriet’s father this time. She called him a good for nothing, lazy scrounger. She said he must have been drunk when he got himself and Harriet’s mother killed in the car crash. She called Harriet a burden on her decent, hard-working relatives.

Finally it had gotten too much and Harriet ran from the room.

“That’s right! Run you little coward!” Aunt Marge had shouted after her, her words slurring from all the brandy she had consumed, as Harriet ran up the stairs into her bedroom and threw herself on her bed.

She did feel like a coward. She should have shouted back, she should have told Aunt Marge how her parents had actually been wealthy, how they had died like heroes saving Harriet’s life. But she hadn’t. Instead, she had just run.

Harriet sighed as she heard the Dursleys getting into bed. She waited until she heard the snores of Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Aunt Marge before she slid back out of bed and pried up the loose floor-board. Quietly as she could, she pulled out her pillow-case of homework and books. However, she did not pull out any of her books this time.

Instead, she reached back into the space under the loose floorboard and pulled out the rest of the bundles of clothesline she had stolen from the garden shed. She didn’t know what was driving her to do it. It was the same urge that had driven her to take them in the first place. Harriet picked two of the bundles and climbed back onto her bed. She undid one bundle, pulled her knees up to her chest, and leaned down. Her hands trembled as she started trying to tie.

After she finished, Harriet leaned back, inspecting her work. She wiggled her feet. No… too loose, she thought and leaned down once more, working the line again. Finally, she managed to get it to the right tightness. She then took another coil and started to tie just under her knees. They never tied this much in the books, but Harriet was sure just the ankles would not be enough to prevent an escape.

Finishing that, Harriet straightened her legs to admire the effect. Yeah, this is much more like it, she thought. She wriggled her legs a little more before she finally swung them out of bed. She then picked up the hair scarf that Kieran had given her for Christmas. She took another deep breath and sighed. She put it up to her mouth and pulled the ends tight behind her head, tying it down tight over her mouth like she had seen in the pictures in her Nancy Drew books.

Harriet twisted her mouth in disappointment under it. She was fairly sure she could still make a lot of noise under it, and probably still talk with perfect clarity. This clearly wasn’t how it was done. She knelt and reached into the pillow case, pulling out The Clue of the Tapping Heels. She opened to the first page of the final chapter. Despite the picture, Nancy described the gag as being in her mouth, not over it.

Harriet looked around and saw her wardrobe. She got to her feet and hopped over as quietly as she could. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a clean pair of socks. She pulled down the scarf, wadded up one of the socks and stuffed it in her mouth as well. It filled her mouth and held down her tongue. She retied the scarf over it. Harriet grunted and worked her jaw. Okay, this works a lot better, she thought and hopped back to her bed.

She sat and took another, smaller piece of rope. Harriet didn’t know why, but somehow, she felt freer doing this than she had all summer. She tied the small piece of rope into a little loop, and then slipped her hands inside it. She twisted them around a little. She grunted more into the gag and wriggled.

Her mind was instantly off and racing. She’d been captured by Malfoy and his cronies of thieves. Harriet had been investigating them for a while but Malfoy finally got the jump on her using his Hand of Glory that he had stolen from Borgin and Burke’s. He had snuck up on her in the dark and grabbed her, hauling her into a secret room, and leaving her bound and helpless unable to call for help.

Harriet got to her feet again. She hopped to the door as quietly as she could. She tried to be quiet so as not to wake the Dursleys or Aunt Marge, but in her mind she was pretending to not alert her captors that she was trying to escape. She pretended to wriggle the handle and grunt in frustration, finding it “locked.”

She looked around and spotted her desk with a pen and pad of paper on it. Aha, Harriet thought, I can make a note and turn it into a paper airplane and toss it out the window! She grinned under the scarf and started to hop towards the desk.

It was then that all of Harriet’s worst fears came true. As she reached her desk, she hopped onto part of the pillow case and it slid underneath her. Harriet lost her balance, bumping into her desk before slumping to the floor in a very loud thump. Harriet yelped in pain before she cringed. Her desk lamp had fallen over and rolled onto the hard floor beside her, where it smashed into pieces.

“What the devil?!” Uncle Vernon cried in the bedroom next to her.

Harriet scrambled frantically. She slid her hands out of the looped clothesline and tried to untie her legs. She couldn’t get the knots undone. Harriet was panicking now. She heard not just Uncle Vernon’s, but also Aunt Marge’s loud, stamping feet coming towards her door. Harriet pulled down the scarf, spat out the sock and lifted herself back into bed as fast as she could. She pulled her covers up over her tied legs and cringed as Uncle Vernon flung the door open and turned on her light.

“What the devil are you doing, girl?!” Uncle Vernon bellowed.

“Sorry!” Harriet squeaked. “I-I-I was reaching for my glasses and accidentally bumped the desk and—”

“We don’t want your pathetic excuses!” Aunt Marge snapped. “Do you have any idea what time it is?! My train leaves in six hours!”

“Sorry, Aunt Marge,” Harriet whimpered, praying and hoping with all her might that the situation could not possibly get worse.

It did.

Aunt Marge’s little eyes moved around the room. They moved to the desk, to the lamp, then to the pillow case on the floor. And right beside it, the bundles of clothesline that Harriet had not used.

“What are you doing with that clothesline?” Aunt Marge asked.

Harriet felt her whole body trembling. She had never been so afraid in her life.

“You stole that from our shed, girl?!” Uncle Vernon asked, sounding even angrier.

“N-No,” Harriet lied, not knowing what else to say.

“You little liar,” Aunt Marge said, her eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with your legs?”

Harriet’s heart sank. Aunt Marge reached down, grabbed Harriet’s blanket and sheets and ripped them off the bed. There she was, her legs still tied, the scarf still hanging around her neck. She was caught.

“Why… you… little… freak!” Aunt Marge shrieked. She stepped towards Harriet and raised a hand. Harriet didn’t raise her own hands in time. Aunt Marge’s hand slapped her hard across the cheek, which burned in pain.

“I knew you were just like that sick mother of yours,” Aunt Marge roared. “Getting your jollies off of something so depraved! You sick little freak!”

Harriet shook her head, pleading, tears filling her eyes.

“Just like your mother, a right little whore!” Aunt Marge carried on. “I’ll bet this is just how she lulled that degenerate father of yours into impregnating her! Turning him on with sick, unnatural thoughts! Freak! No wonder you go to Lady Desdemona’s!”

It felt like it went on for hours. It was the worst moment of Harriet’s life that she could remember.

“Vernon! Write to them! Tell them they need to take her on sooner! She needs the most severe beatings they can get to knock this sick, unnaturalness out of her head! They should throw you out on the street, that’s where a little freak like you belongs! Just like your freak of a mother! You should have died in that car crash with them and saved society from the wretched likes of yourself!”

Aunt Marge looked as though she was swelling with rage, and she raised her hand one more time to slap Harriet. The hand came down again but it started to slow as it approached. Harriet closed her eyes and held her hands up in front of her face.

The blow did not come. Harriet opened her eyes again. Aunt Marge was still swelling. More than swelling, she was inflating, just like a balloon. Ripper came skidding into the room and began barking madly. Uncle Vernon cried out in shock and Aunt Petunia finally came into the room.

“What on earth—MARGE!?” Aunt Petunia shrieked at the sight.

Harriet gaped as Aunt Marge continued to swell. Before long she became perfectly round, her lips and eyelids pulled tight shut. Her hands stuck out of her sides and her fingers had swollen until they looked like sausages. Finally, Aunt Marge began to float up to the ceiling, bouncing off the ceiling fan like a large, very ugly blimp.

“PUT HER RIGHT!” Uncle Vernon bellowed at Harriet, pointing up at Aunt Marge.

His yell startled Ripper and the bulldog leapt forward, chomping down hard on Uncle Vernon’s ankle. Uncle Vernon cried out in pain and Petunia screamed trying to pull Ripper off.

It was at that moment that everything stopped. Ripper continued to snarl and tug on Uncle Vernon’s ankle but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both froze and looked at the door. Harriet’s sight of the door was blocked by the bulk of Uncle Vernon and the inflated Aunt Marge. But she heard a deep and very familiar voice speak from the doorway.

“Good morning! Sherman Horne, Accidental Magic Reversal Squad at your service!”

Chapter Text

“A-accidental—” Aunt Petunia started to ask. She was cut off by Ripper’s yelp when Uncle Vernon gave his leg a violent shake to dislodge his teeth.

“Accidental Magic Reversal Squad,” the unseen Mr Horne repeated.

Uncle Vernon backed away from Ripper and Harriet finally saw the newcomer stride into the room. She had expected Headmaster Sherrod Howe by the voice, but that was not who she saw. The man had a different nose, wore overlarge spectacles that made his eyes look half their normal size, and his usually fly-away hair was slicked back. He wore gaudy, sunshine-yellow robes with MoM emblazoned on a small shield on the left breast. Ripper growled at him but made no effort to attack.

Despite the changed appearance, Harriet was absolutely sure that it was Professor Howe. Her suspicions were confirmed when he glanced at her and gave her the tiniest of winks. In spite of everything that had happened, Harriet felt her heart lift. The only person in the world who could have made her feel more relieved at that very moment would have been Albus Dumbledore.

To Harriet’s surprise another man stepped into view behind Professor Howe. This man was taller and more slender in build. He had short, brown hair, a high widow’s peak and a very neatly trimmed moustache. He was wearing the same colour robes as Professor Howe. Harriet noted he had a cane, but did not seem to be leaning on it.

Uncle Vernon turned to the new man. Despite wearing robes, Harriet supposed the dignified way the man carried himself, combined with a cane and moustache, made Uncle Vernon gravitate more towards the newcomer than Professor Howe.

Uncle Vernon’s tone remained quite rude. “What is this? What are you doing in my house?!” he demanded.

“As my colleague said,” the new man replied, “we are from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Occasionally young witches and wizards are pressed to performing magic unintentionally. This most typically happens when the young witch or wizard is undergoing a severe emotional trauma.”

He put strong emphasis on ‘severe’ and Harriet could not help but notice his eyes dart up to Aunt Marge and back. Harriet blinked. How could he have known Aunt Marge had been attacking her? Had the two men been watching the house?

“When this happens,” the new man went on, “we are called in to undo the magic and return everything to a state of normality. For instance, we are here to deflate your sister, Miss Marjorie Dursley, and take young Miss Potter off of your hands for the time being.”

The new man spoke in a very prim, proper voice. For some reason he put her in mind of an army officer, or perhaps a doctor. Harriet felt her heart lift, ‘take young Miss Potter off your hands…?’

“Oh, I-I see,” Uncle Vernon stammered.

“Quite. So my colleague, Mister Horne, will attend to Miss Marjorie Dursley, and I shall attend to Miss Potter’s injuries,” the man continued.

“Injuries?!”

“Yes injuries. I see a very clear redness on her left cheek which looks very much as though it was left by an impact, most likely a slap given the distinct four digit imprint.”

Harriet felt her cheek. It was still hot to the touch and stung as she touched it.

“I-I-I see,” Uncle Vernon muttered.

“Yes, Mister Dursley,” Mr Horne said stepping forward. “Believe it or not, we in the magical world do not take kindly to abusive behaviour towards children of any kind, be they magical or Muggle.”

Uncle Vernon swallowed and his face was beginning to turn puce. “Now look here—”

“I should also note the large bruise forming on her right thigh, Mister Dursley,” the new man added.

Harriet looked down at her thigh and blushed realizing she was still only wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. She hugged her chest tighter. She was starting to feel ashamed again. Uncle Vernon’s face began to turn green.

“Abuse is a very serious crime, Mister Dursley,” Mr Horne said. He sounded grave, but Harriet could not help but feel an underlying note of anger.

“Abuse?!” Uncle Vernon snapped. “We’ve spent our hard earned money and given up valuable living space for—”

“Allowing her the barest minimum to stay alive and actually function as a human being should, I am sure,” the new man said. “You are aware that emotional and psychological abuse are treated as equal to physical abuse under the law, Mister Dursley? And I believe with the slap-mark and bruise we easily have evidence of three forms of abuse going on at once.”

“And even if we cannot directly prosecute you for the abuses, we can very easily notify Muggle authorities, who I am sure, will look into the matter quite closely. You enjoy living here at Number Four, Privet Drive, do you not, Mister Dursley? You enjoy your reputation as a respectable business man? Funny how rapidly that can change, isn’t it? One moment you are on top of the world, and the next you are disgraced,” Mr Horne said gravely.

“Are you threatening me?” Uncle Vernon growled. His fat hands curled into fists.

“Oh no, we are not threatening you, Mister Dursley. Merely informing you of the consequences should this activity continue,” the new man said.

Harriet could see the wheels in Uncle Vernon’s head spin as he looked back and forth between the two men.

“Is that understood, Mister Dursley?” Mr Horne pressed.

Uncle Vernon did not respond right away. His mouth was moving as though he was trying to form words. Aunt Petunia was looking back and forth between her husband and the two men, her eyes wide with fear.

Finally, Uncle Vernon growled, “Understood.”

“Marvellous!” Mr Horne said clapping his hands together merrily.

There was the sound of Dudley’s door opening down the hall. She heard Dudley’s groggy voice. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. Harriet heard him waddling down the hall towards her room. He stepped into the doorway and blinked, his eyes going wide in shock. “Who’re you two?”

“Wizards!” Mr Horne exclaimed.

Dudley gasped, grabbed his four foot-wide buttocks and waddled as quickly as he could back down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mr Horne grinned. As he did, the man Harriet didn’t know strode past Uncle Vernon towards her. She pulled back a little by instinct and he paused, holding up his hands.

“Shhh… it’s alright, dear. We’re here to help. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” he said kneeling down beside her bed. Harriet noticed him wince.

He held out his arms slowly and smiled. “Come here, Harriet, it’s alright.”

Harriet looked over at Mr Horne, who gave her an encouraging nod. Harriet held out her arms which she noticed were shaking and put them around the new man’s neck. He scooped one arm under her tied legs and the other under her back lifting her gently from the bed. Though he lifted her easily, Harriet heard him grunt in pain as he got to his feet.

Even if Harriet had never met this man before, she felt safe with him and rested her head on his shoulder. He carried her from the room, down the hall, and down the stairs to the sitting room. He sat her down on the sofa and knelt again in front of her. She was still shaking.

“It’s alright, Harriet,” he said in his soft, calming voice. “My name is Jefferson Watkins. I am the Deputy headmaster at Rathlin, and a long-time friend of Headmaster Howe, who is, incidentally, Mr Horne. I’m sure you were completely fooled by his brilliant disguise,” the man said in an ever-suffering voice. “I’m also a doctor, and I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Harriet felt her lip trembling and tears welling in her eyes. She yelped and leapt forward into the man’s arms again at a sudden loud popping noise from upstairs. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon cried out in shock and Ripper began barking again. She heard the squealing sound of a balloon letting out all its air rapidly and a loud thumping noise. There was a snarl and Uncle Vernon shouted in pain. Ripper had bitten Uncle Vernon again.

Harriet leaned back, embarrassed that she was still so vulnerable and jumpy. She kept fighting back sniffles as she watched Doctor Watkins undo the clothesline from her legs for her and reach into a satchel at his side. He pulled out a bottle with the words Belknapp’s Brilliant Bump and Bruise Balm on the label and opened the top. He applied some of the balm to a soft pad contained in the lid.

“I’m just going to apply this to your bruise, is that alright?” he asked, still speaking in a soft, calming voice.

Harriet felt her shoulders jump in a suppressed sob and she nodded. She had never felt so terrible in her life. Aunt Marge’s words kept flowing through her mind, stabbing at her. Tears clouded her vision as she heard them over and over again. Freak. Degenerate. Whore. She felt dirty again. She felt even dirtier than when she had learned Riddle was invading her dreams.

“Shhh…” Doctor Watkins said and gently rested a hand on Harriet’s cheek. “It’s alright. You were told some very, very horrible things tonight but they’re not true… there is nothing wrong with you, Harriet… nothing at all. It’s okay to be upset, anyone would be.”

Harriet sniffled and nodded. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But the pain was still too close in her chest for her to believe him fully.

“There, all better,” she heard him say and she felt a soft cloth gently dabbing away her tears.

Harriet blushed. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t even felt him apply the balm. The pain in her leg was gone, as was the bruise.

“Thank you…” she said, so quietly she could barely hear herself.

Professor Howe came down the stairs, and as he did the door to the cupboard under the stairs opened on its own and her trunk and broomstick flew out and over to Harriet and Doctor Watkins. The trunk lip popped open and her broomstick settled itself beside her on the sofa.

Upstairs, Harriet heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shout out in surprise. Harriet watched her books, her presents, her cards, her clothes, Hedwig’s old cage, even the bundles of clothesline come flying down the stairs. The items all fitted themselves neatly into her trunk, with the exception of Hedwig’s cage and a pair of jeans, socks, and her trainers. The trunk closed and Hedwig’s cage set down gently on top of it while the clothes landed in Harriet’s lap.

Professor Howe flicked his wand again and the trunk, her broomstick, and Hedwig’s cage vanished. “Well, Harriet, if you wouldn’t mind getting dressed, we will be taking you to the place you’ll be spending the rest of your holidays now,” Professor Howe said, smiling warmly.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” Harriet asked.

“Someplace safe, with people who care for you,” Doctor Watkins said smiling.

“The Weasleys?!” Harriet asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

The smiles on both men’s faces fell for the briefest of moments. “Unfortunately the Weasleys are still on their holiday in Egypt,” Professor Howe said. “Though trust me, were that not the case they would be our first choice. No, we found another even more secure location to take you.”

Harriet blinked and the two men turned their backs to her.

“Go ahead and get dressed, Harriet. We won’t look. You’ve suffered enough tonight,” Doctor Watkins said.

Harriet nodded and dressed as quickly as she could. She was impeded by the fact she was still shaking from the stress of everything that had happened. “Finished,” she said and the two men turned back, still smiling.

Harriet heard the sound of feet coming down the stairs. Uncle Vernon came in looking just as livid as ever. Both legs of his pyjama pants were now in bloody tatters.

“Right, she’s forgotten the whole thing, thinks she just drank too much. Now I want you out of my house!” Uncle Vernon demanded.

“Ah-ah-ah, just one moment,” Professor Howe said and produced a piece of parchment and a quill from nowhere. Harriet blinked looking at it and just barely stopped herself from gasping. It was her Hogsmeade permission form.

“I just need you to sign this release form so we may take Harriet off your hands,” Professor Howe said. He once again gave Harriet the very subtlest of winks.

Uncle Vernon scowled and took the quill and parchment. He seemed so eager to be rid of Harriet he signed without even looking at the parchment. It wasn’t until he handed it back that he started to wise up. “Wait a moment… I recognize that form…”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Professor Howe said grinning pleasantly.

Uncle Vernon was about to say something more when suddenly the doorbell rang. “Who is it now?!” He snarled angrily.

“Accidental Magic Reversal Squad,” called a friendly voice from behind the door.

“Oh dear,” Professor Howe said.

“That was faster than expected,” Doctor Watkins mumbled.

Harriet looked back and forth between them. Uncle Vernon did too and dawning comprehension swept over his face. “Accidental Magic Reversal Squad? Isn’t that who you two are supposed to be?” Uncle Vernon growled through gritted teeth.

Professor Howe looked at his pocket-watch. “Got a plan?”

“Yep. Run for it.” Doctor Watkins said.

“Knew there was a reason I keep you around,” Professor Howe said re-pocketing his watch.

“Had to be at least one.”

Without another word, Professor Howe grabbed Harriet’s hand pulling her along as both men ran for the back door. Harriet could hear Uncle Vernon shouting indistinctly after them as the door flung itself open and all three darted through it one after another without slowing down. They hopped the garden fence, ran through the next garden, and out into the next street.

There they turned and started running west. Harriet was trying her best to keep up with the two men but it was difficult as their legs were so much longer than hers. She looked up at them and to her surprise saw both of them were grinning as though they were having the time of their lives.

“Just like old times then,” Professor Howe said, sounding out of breath as they kept going.

“Just like last month I think would be more appropriate,” Doctor Watkins gasped.

In spite of everything, the sight of their grinning faces and their laughing banter finally made Harriet smile for the first time since her birthday. Eventually they paused after running what felt like a mile. Harriet’s lungs burned and she doubled over, hands on her knees gasping. Doctor Watkins was grunting in pain, a hand on his hip as he leaned very heavily on his cane.

“Think we lost them?” Doctor Watkins asked through gritted teeth.

“We probably did the moment we left the back door, but better to be safe and all that,” Professor Howe gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Both men broke down laughing slapping each other’s backs. Harriet grinned too but paused as she looked back towards the Dursleys. There, galloping after them down the middle of the road, lit up by a street lamp, was the biggest dog Harriet had ever seen. It was jet-black, with sharp, pointed ears and its eyes glinted bright green. It halted as it spotted Harriet watching and simply stared back at her. It was an eerie feeling. Even at this distance Harriet got a sense of intelligence from the dog. She didn’t know why, but she was completely convinced the dog was following them.

Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins stopped laughing when they saw it. Professor Howe put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder.

“Come on, Harriet, nothing to be afraid of… just a dog,” he said clearly trying to sound casual.

“That’s… that’s not an ordinary dog,” Harriet said.

Professor Howe sighed. “No, it is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“A Black Dog,” Professor Howe said. “Britain’s full of them.”

“A Black Dog?”

“Yes, a Gurt Dog by the looks of it,” Professor Howe said. He cleared his throat and called out to the dog. “The girl is safe with us. You are not needed tonight!”

Harriet watched in amazement as the dog took one more step towards them, clearly debating continuing to follow them. It looked away, then back, then away again and finally turned and trotted off out of the street light and into the night.

Professor Howe smiled down at her. “It’s a sign of good fortune. Gurt Dogs protect travellers, especially children. Formidable looking but it’s meant to be to ward away those who would do harm to the innocent and defenceless. Many say that Black Dogs are ill omens,” Professor Howe continued, “but they’re mostly misunderstood. They’re big and scary so people like to attach dark names to them: Barguist, the Grim, Gytrash, Padfoot.”

“Well Padfoot’s not terribly scary,” Harriet admitted with a shrug. Professor Howe’s explanation of what the creature was made her wish the dog was still there. It seemed interesting now, and if it was a good omen she wasn’t anxious for it to leave after all that had happened.

“Well then, fastest way to get from one end of the country to the other…” Professor Howe trailed off as he drew his wand again. He didn’t cast a charm with it. Instead, he stuck his wand out, using his right hand, and flicked it upwards as if hitchhiking.

Harriet only had a single second to register this when there was an ear-splitting bang and her vision was blocked by a bright purple wall that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Harriet took a step back and looked up realizing it was not a wall, but a bright-purple, triple-decker bus.

From the door hopped a young man in a conductor’s uniform the same garish shade of purple as the bus. He looked to be eighteen or nineteen, with copper hair, protruding ears, and more than a few spots.

His voice cracked a couple times as he spoke. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for—”

“We know, Stan,” Professor Howe said cutting the boy off. “Three passengers. Top floor. One bed. One hot chocolate. Let us off last. No questions asked. You never saw us get on. You never served us that hot chocolate. You never saw us get off.”

Professor Howe handed Stan a small but heavy sack that clinked as though it was full of galleons. Stan’s face twisted into a knowing grin and he winked. “Say no more, gov’! Don’t welcome aboard the Knight Bus! Don’t make your way to the top floor. I won’t be up with your hot chocolate and I most certainly will not see you off in the morning on our last stop!” Stan said and stepped aside.

Doctor Watkins climbed in first and Harriet followed, with Professor Howe taking up the rear. Stan hopped in and shut the door tight behind them. Harriet was led up two flights of spiralling stairs to the top of the bus, which was empty.

They led Harriet to a bed and each took seats in comfy armchairs next to it. Stan brought up the hot chocolate and handed it to Harriet.

As he bent down, he suddenly looked suspicious. “’ang on… aren’t—”

“I believe the condition was no questions,” Doctor Watkins said, warning in his voice.

Stan’s face went a little white and he simply bowed and headed back towards the stairs. Professor Howe grinned and took a tighter hold of his chair. “Hold on.”

Harriet was about to ask what he meant, but she did not get the chance. The moment she opened her mouth, the bus lurched forward, knocking her onto her side and dropping her hot chocolate to the floor.

Harriet didn’t know how long she had been sleeping. She didn’t remember falling asleep, or even lying down. What’s more, once she woke up, she wasn’t sure exactly how she could have fallen asleep in the first place. First of all, her mind was still full of the memories of everything that had happened that night. Second of all, she was still on a bus that seemed to be careening across the countryside, shaking and swerving violently.

Looking out the window, Harriet saw it was nearly dawn. Trees and buildings whipped past the window as though the bus was moving hundreds of miles an hour. Harriet looked around to see the tired but smiling faces of Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins looking back at her from their armchairs beside her bed. She noted that both of them had removed their sunshine-yellow robes in favour of normal clothes. She also saw that Professor Howe had returned all his features back to normal and ditched the oversized spectacles.

“Goodness, you slept well,” Professor Howe said, stretching and cracking his knuckles.

“I—I guess I did,” Harriet muttered, reaching up and redoing her pony-tail. “Where are we?”

“Aboard the Knight Bus, nearly to our destination of Glen Raglan,” Professor Howe said cheerily.

“Glen Raglan?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, a safe place,” Professor Howe said. He looked down and leaned over a chess-set, studying it intently. It looked to be a perfectly normal chess-set. Unlike Wizard’s Chess, the pieces did not look as though they could move. However, the moment Harriet thought that, the pieces began to slide around the board, moving in patterns she could not decipher, but it seemed to make sense to Professor Howe.

“Message from Morrisey,” he muttered to Doctor Watkins.

“What’s that?” Doctor Watkins asked, lowering the copy of the Daily Prophet he was holding.

“Albus just found out. So did the Minister. They’re not happy,” Professor Howe said, sitting back in his chair with the faintest hint of a grin.

Doctor Watkins chuckled. “Not happy about what? About what that woman did to Harriet or that we removed her from Privet Drive without informing them?”

“Can’t it be both?” Professor Howe replied, his grin widening.

Doctor Watkins rolled his eyes and resumed reading his newspaper. Harriet looked at the large picture on the front page. It was Sirius Black again. Harriet shivered at the sight of his gaunt, skeletal face.

There was something very unsettling about Black. It wasn’t just his thin and waxy skin or his long, shaggy, unwashed hair. It was his eyes. If his eyes weren’t moving back and forth, Harriet would have thought it was a Muggle picture. The worst part, though, was the deep, burning anger glittering in the eyes.

“S-so, he’s still on the loose, huh?” Harriet asked.

Doctor Watkins looked at the front page and Professor Howe furrowed his brow. “Ah, yes. Yes he still is it seems,” Professor Howe said.

Harriet looked at Professor Howe, biting her lip, thinking. “Is he… is he really as dangerous as everyone’s said?” she asked. If Black had been capable of killing thirteen people with a single curse before spending twelve years in Azkaban, Harriet hated to think of what he would be capable of now.

Professor Howe’s lips tightened. “Well that’s an interesting question. He is unpredictable, which makes him rather dangerous. You see Harriet that is part of the reason we are relocating you.”

Harriet blinked. “What?”

“It seems to be the standing theory that you are one of two people who Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban to come after,” Professor Howe explained.

Harriet’s eyes widened. “M-me? But why? What does he have against me?”

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t asked, as she felt rather stupid. If Sirius Black had been Lord Voldemort’s right-hand man, then of course he would want to come after Harriet in revenge. However, Professor Howe did not seem to mind.

“It’s a delicate matter, Harriet,” Professor Howe said, but he paused as Doctor Watkins cleared his throat. “What?” he asked.

“I thought we’d discussed this?” Doctor Watkins asked, not looking up from his paper.

“We did and I thought we agreed my plan was best.”

“No we discussed it and agreed my plan was the more prudent, at which point you apparently decided to go ahead anyway.”

“I certainly did not. I wouldn’t tell her such delicate information on the Knight Bus,” Professor Howe said in a placating tone, leaving Doctor Watkins looking somewhat relieved.

Professor Howe smiled at Harriet. “I’ll tell her when we arrive.”

“Howe!”

There was no time to reply as the Knight Bus screeched to a halt. Harriet was thrown onto her back and felt the bed skid a couple of feet towards the front of the bus. The conductor, Stan Shunpike, poked his head up over the edge of the spiral staircase, rather like a spotty, purple gopher.

“Here you aren’t!” Stan said in a cheery tone. “This is not Glen Raglan, and it’s not our final stop of the night—”

“Thank you, Stan, we got the point,” Doctor Watkins said getting to his feet.

Harriet stood and Professor Howe vanished his chess set. The three climbed down the spiral staircase after Stan and disembarked from the bus. The bus gave off a loud bang and vanished as it rocketed away, too fast to be seen.

“Well, here we are then,” Professor Howe said. He pointed to a wooded lane. She tilted her head back and gasped seeing a large, ornate sign that stretched over the lane. As Harriet looked closer her eyes went even wider in the realization it was not a sign, but two trees that had been grown together, their branches spelling the words “Glen Raglan.”

“Off we go,” Professor Howe said and put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder, guiding her down the lane. The trees were so thick that they blocked all light from the coming dawn and Professor Howe had to draw his wand to light the path. Somewhere nearby Harriet could hear the rushing of a river. After about five minutes they rounded a corner and Harriet’s jaw fell open. They had come to a large, exquisite manor house.

The manor was made of white brick, with a high, grey, gabled roof. The edges of the gables were lined with battlements and there were chimneys everywhere. The corners of the manor were tall turrets, topped with pointed roofs and intricate spires. Here and there on the walls were bay windows. What was even more amazing was the way it seemed to spring right up from the middle of a river that acted as a sort of moat around the building, with a small drawbridge covering the large front door. Over both was another banner with the words “McIntyre Manor”.

“Wow…” Harriet gasped. “Who-who lives—wait… McIntyre?!”

Both men simply smiled down at her in reply when the little drawbridge began lowering, setting down on their side of the bank as they approached. The front door opened and four people stepped out and waved eagerly. They were silhouetted by the light behind them but as Harriet, Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins started across the drawbridge Harriet saw it was Scott and Kieran’s parents.

“Well hello Miss Potter!” Mister McIntyre said in a boisterous, jovial tone. “Welcome to our home!”

“We’re so glad you made it safe,” Mrs McIntyre said as she and Mrs O’Brien rushed forward to hug Harriet.

Harriet was pleased, but quite taken aback at this greeting. While Mr McIntyre was still beaming, Mr O’Brien was looking anxious as he shook hands with Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins. She wondered if they were worried about Sirius Black.

“Now, let us get inside b’fore anything else,” Mr O’Brien said.

“Quite agree,” Doctor Watkins said and they all stepped inside.

Harriet looked around eagerly. “Where’s Scott?” she asked and looked at the O’Brien’s. “Is Kieran here too?”

“Scott’s still asleep, dear,” Mrs McIntyre said. “We knew that you were going to be brought straight here if something were to happen, but we didn’t know if or when that would be.”

“And Kieran is back at our house,” Mrs O’Brien said. “We live in the little house right across the road.”

“Headmaster Howe sent a message ahead to us that you were finally coming at the same time he sent your belongings, but Scott had already nodded off by then,” Mr McIntyre said. “Are you hungry? We can get you some breakfast. Our new cook is fantastic. Or just a little bite if you would like to get some sleep?”

“I… I am a little hungry,” Harriet admitted. “But I am pretty tired.”

“Good, good,” Mr McIntyre said merrily. “Whichever would suit you best. You are a guest in our home. Your comfort and safety are our only concern.”

They passed through a large room that reminded Harriet of the entrance hall at Hogwarts, but not nearly as big, and made of bright red wood instead of stone. There was a large wooden staircase leading up to the second floor, with doors on the far wall and both of the side doors.

They followed Mr and Mrs McIntyre down a long hallway. It was lit by silver candelabras and lined with portraits. Harriet was surprised to see that at least half of them seemed to be perfectly normal Muggle portraits, unlike magical ones where the occupants could move and talk.

Mr McIntyre stopped and opened a door leading off the hall. They all stepped through and Harriet found herself in a sitting room. Everyone took seats around a large coffee table, Mrs McIntyre directing Harriet towards the most comfortable of the armchairs.

“Well,” Mr McIntyre said as he took a seat. “I suppose you’d like to know why exactly you’re here?”

Harriet nodded.

“Well,” he looked at Professor Howe who gave a single nod. “It’s… it’s not a happy story, Harriet.” Despite his jovial appearance when she had arrived, Mr McIntyre now looked very grave. “Well, you see, it involves Sirius Black.”

Harriet nodded. “Yeah… Professor Howe said that he was after me.”

“Well, aye,” Mr O’Brien said. “But it’s more complicated than that, love.”

“How so?” Harriet asked. She was starting to feel more worried.

“Once upon a time, Sirius Black and your father were best friends,” Professor Howe said.

Mr O’Brien, Mrs O’Brien and Mrs McIntyre all gave Professor Howe a disapproving look, but he kept looking past them at Harriet, unabashed. Mr McIntyre merely looked as though he had lock jaw. Judging by the looks on all the other faces, this was not what Mr O’Brien had been about to say.

“W-what?”

“Yes, the best of friends. He was even best-man in your parent’s wedding. And after that, he apparently became a spy for Lord Voldemort,” Professor Howe went on.

Predictably, everyone in the room except her, Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins shivered to hear Lord Voldemort’s name. However, something about that statement seemed odd.

“Wait… he was my dad’s friend for that long and then he became a spy?”

“Well, no one knows exactly when he became a spy,” Professor Howe said casually. “There are theories of course.”

“Yes… there are theories,” Doctor Watkins said with a tone of warning in his voice.

“Didn’t… didn’t anyone question him about it?” Harriet asked, trying to comprehend what she was being told.

“Funnily enough, no one did,” Professor Howe said. “He was arrested after the incident in which thirteen people were killed and sent straight to Azkaban without trial.”

There was a moment’s silence after this. The O’Briens and the McIntyres were looking at Professor Howe with surprise. Apparently even they did not know that bit of information.

“Without a trial?” Harriet asked.

“Indeed,” Professor Howe said. He sounded oddly bitter. “Anyway, long story short, his ties to your father is an unfortunate connection that you have with Black and I believe it is dictating his current actions. The Minister of Magic and Professor Dumbledore do not want you to know this information,” Professor Howe said. “They are under the strange delusion it will keep you ‘happy’ to remain ignorant. However, I think you have it in you to handle this information. You have the right to know.”

Harriet didn’t react. She was still trying to process it all. “But… why…? What actions…? How does everyone know he’s after me anyway?” Harriet asked. Now that she was getting at least some answers, she wanted more.

“Apparently, before his escape, Black had been talking in his sleep for nearly a month. Granted most prisoners in Azkaban go mad and talk in their sleep but this was different,” Professor Howe said. “He muttered three phrases in particular over and over again; ‘save Harriet,’ ‘he’s at Hogwarts,’ and ‘kill the traitor.’”

Harriet furrowed her brow. “Save me…? From what?”

Mr O’Brien grimaced. “What we think it means is he wishes to turn you to the Dark Arts.”

Harriet chewed her lip in thought. “T-turn me to the Dark Arts? Even though I defeated Lord Voldemort?”

“Even though you defeated Lord Voldemort or because you defeated Lord Voldemort?” Professor Howe asked darkly. “You are powerful, clever, and gifted Harriet, never forget that.”

Harriet shivered and hugged her chest, looking at her knees which were bouncing from her anxiety. “But… why…?” she asked, greatly regretting having the conversation.

“Well, you already said it. You stopped Lord Voldemort,” Mr O’Brien said. “That can mean one of two things to a mind like Black’s… either kill you for revenge… or that you are an even more powerful witch to follow than Lord Voldemort was.”

Harriet grimaced. There it was again. Just like Professor Dumbledore had told her at the end of last term. Inside everyone there was the capacity to do great good and great evil. But Harriet just wanted to live. Of course she wanted to do good, but she certainly didn’t want to do evil of any kind.

Mr O’Brien leaned forward and put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “The Dark Arts are a terrible thing, Harriet,” he said. “Those who follow them are capable of the greatest evil. The lives of others mean absolutely nothing to them. All that matters is their own power. But that is a reflection of who Black is, not you.”

“But…” Harriet was thinking hard. “Why did he become a spy after all that time? Or was he a spy the whole time?”

“Those are very good questions,” Professor Howe said, enigmatically.

“Well… we… we can’t answer those questions really,” Mrs McIntyre said awkwardly and patted Harriet’s hand. “What matters is you’re safe.”

Harriet shook her head as though shaking off a fly. That was too much to take in at once, so she changed the subject. “But… those last two can’t be about me… I mean he named me but—”

“Well… if Voldemort had spies in our ranks, we certainly had spies of our own in his,” Professor Howe said. “One of those spies works at Hogwarts today. The Ministry believes that the spy is the ‘traitor’ Black is referring to. And it is he who is in far greater danger of being murdered than you in my opinion. However, the Ministry continues to believe that you are Black’s primary target, as he did name you.”

“But you don’t think he’s out to kill me?” Harriet asked.

“No, I do not,” Professor Howe said.

Harriet glanced around at the other faces. No one looked convinced of Professor Howe’s theory. Harriet spoke up again. “I just… I don’t get it… why would he want to turn me instead of kill me? Not that I want him to kill me, but I don’t want him to try and turn me to the Dark Arts either!”

“Well, there is the problem. He’s unpredictable. After so many years in Azkaban, it is impossible to know just how unhinged he has become. I was not allowed to make a proper study of him while he was in custody. But you see what has everyone the most worried about the situation is not only was Sirius Black the best-man in your parents’ wedding, but after you were born he was even at your christening—”

“Professor Howe! Really!” Mrs McIntyre spluttered in shock.

“That is enough!” Mrs O’Brien agreed.

Both were glaring at Professor Howe. Mr O’Brien looked as though he agreed with the two women, but he seemed resigned to the truth now that it was out.

“He… he was at my christening…?” Harriet asked, mouth gaping.

Mr O’Brien sighed. “Yes…” he said miserably. “Irene and I were there that day,” he gave a short, mirthless laugh. “So was Kieran come to think of it, but he was nought but three months. Anyway, yes… it’s so strange now… remembering that day… Black seemed so genuinely happy… he was crying…”

“So that’s why we’ve been keeping a rather close eye on you since the escape,” Professor Howe butted in. “Because he may try anything… he may in fact be out to kill you in revenge, or to convert you, frankly we just cannot be sure.”

Harriet shivered and hugged her legs even tighter, rocking.  This was too much, this was way too much. She wished they hadn’t told her, not after all that had happened last night. She didn’t want to know that Sirius Black had been friends with her father, or the best-man in their wedding, or at Harriet’s christening. She didn’t want anything to do with him. She didn’t want him to take her away or to kill her. She just wanted to smile and be happy for a change.

“We know this is hard, Harriet, but personally, I—I agree with Professor Howe. I believe it is better for you to be told this in a controlled environment with people who care for you, rather than hearing about it elsewhere. With everything going on, I think it is inevitable that you will learn all this information eventually. Just know that we’re here for you, and we’ll do all we can to protect you and make you happy while you’re here,” Mr McIntyre said, doing his best to smile.

Harriet shivered again and fished around for something else to talk about.

“So, who is the spy?” she asked.

Professor Howe started to respond when the door to the room opened again. Harriet turned, expecting to see Scott but instead saw no one there. She blinked in confusion when she heard a very familiar voice speak from somewhere near her elbow and the smell of fresh quiche, sausages and tea filled her nose. She looked down to see what appeared to be a floating silver tray that was indeed laden with quiche and sausages and tea.

“Breakfast, Sir and Lady,” said the unmistakable voice of—

“DOBBY!?” Harriet gasped at the floating food tray next to her. It lifted and Harriet saw the tell-tale tennis-ball green eyes, pointy nose, and bat ears of Dobby the house-elf.

Dobby’s overlarge eyes went, if possible, even wider and before Harriet even saw what happened the tray of food was rattling on the coffee table and Dobby had leapt up, hugging Harriet tight around the chest and sobbing in happiness.

“Oh Harriet Potter! Dobby never thought he would see you again so soon!”

Harriet looked up at the McIntyres who were beaming back.

“W-when… how?”

“Well… the poor dear turned up on our doorstep looking for work,” Mrs McIntyre said smiling down at Dobby.

“Proper work,” Mr McIntyre added, his eyes twinkling.

“With paying and everything Harriet Potter!” Dobby said, his eyes reverent as he looked back at Mr and Mrs McIntyre. “My new Sir and Lady give Dobby ten galleons a week! Dobby wanted less, Miss, but they said to Dobby they would put it in his account whether he wanted it or not, so Dobby had better accept it or it would all go to waste! Dobby is saving it, Miss; Dobby thinks it will do great good some day! And Dobby gets one day off per week!”

“And such wonderful tales he told too of the sweet, kind, brave, and good young lady who freed him from his cruel former owners,” Mr McIntyre chuckled and winked. “I can’t imagine who he could have been referring to.”

Dobby’s eyes welled up with more tears. “Oh yes, Miss, oh yes… Dobby is so much happier here. Such kind and wonderful wizards… young Master McIntyre is so kind and keeps his room so clean so as not to inconvenience Dobby… never has Dobby known so many wizards who cared for him so much…”

Mrs O’Brien smiled now. “You are a person, too, Dobby… someday the rest of the world will see that too.”

Dobby beamed. So did Harriet. All her dark thoughts about Sirius Black, Lord Voldemort, her parents’ death and Aunt Marge’s attack had vanished with Dobby’s arrival. Dobby had found work like he always wanted with some of the nicest people Harriet knew. She was free from the Dursleys for the rest of the summer, staying with some of her best friends. And best of all, Professor Howe had tricked Uncle Vernon into signing her Hogsmeade permission form for her. All in all, it was shaping up already to be one of the best summers Harriet had ever had.

Chapter Text

Harriet couldn’t fall back asleep. She felt just like she had when she arrived at the Weasleys’ the summer before. She was just too excited to sleep. After Professor Howe, Doctor Watkins and the O’Briens left Mr and Mrs McIntyre showed Harriet to her room.

It was just as beautiful as the rest of the house. The walls had been painted a deep, forest green with a sky-blue ceiling. The furniture was made of the same reddish cherry wood as the stairs in the entrance chamber. The bed was enormous, with a green tartan comforter and a tall headboard covered in an intricate engraving. The colour scheme made Harriet giggle in spite of herself. It felt like she was in the middle of a forest.

Harriet stepped closer to study the engraving. It showed a tall, stately man with a stern, purposeful, bearded face. He was wearing a long, almost ankle length tunic with a stylized lion on the chest. His arms were covered by chainmail sleeves and gauntlets, his legs by chainmail leggings and matching greaves. He wore a chainmail coif on his head a crown with spade points running around the top.

A thirty year-old man knelt at his feet. He was not wearing any armour, dressed simply in peasant clothing; cloth tunic and leggings and tattered, leather shoes. The standing man, who Harriet could only assume was a king of some kind, was laying a sword across the young man’s shoulder.

“Our ancestor, Cynwrig McIntyre,” Mr McIntyre said smiling, “receiving his knighthood from Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, in 1319.”

“Cynwrig McIntyre?” Harriet asked.

“Aye, he was a simple Irish soldier who fought gallantly in support of Edward the Bruce, Robert’s brother, when Edward led a campaign to reclaim Ireland from the English,” Mr McIntyre explained. “Cynwrig fought with Edward from the beginning of the campaign in 1315 to the Battle of Faughart in 1318, where Edward lost his life and the campaign came to an end. Cynwrig was singled out for his gallantry in the campaign and the King rewarded Cynwrig with a knighthood and the land of Glen Raglan.”

“Was the manor here too?” Harriet asked. She was starting to find the information very interesting. She had known Scott’s family went back a long ways, and they were obviously wealthy, but she’d never known how wealthy or how far back.

“No,” Mrs McIntyre said looking around the room. “The Manor was built some time later. Ground was broken in 1536 wasn’t it, Dorian?”

“Aye, just after magic finally sprouted up in the family.”

Harriet looked back at the engraving of Cynwrig, thinking. “So your family wasn’t originally wizards?”

Mrs McIntyre smiled. “No, Cynwrig was a Muggle, dear.”

Harriet nodded. A bed seemed an odd place for such a dedication to someone so important to the family, but Harriet supposed it wasn’t her place to comment. The king did look rather imposing, but Harriet supposed that falling asleep with a king watching over her wouldn’t be so bad.

It also turned on a light in Harriet’s memory. She remembered Riddle calling the McIntyres the “worst of blood-traitors.” Was this what Riddle was talking about? The McIntyre line looked like it went back a long ways, but it wasn’t always magical, and it was still around. Meanwhile, Slytherin’s line by the sound of it seemed to be gone except for Lord Voldemort himself.

“This was my cousin Jess’ old room,” Mr McIntyre said warmly. “She was often sickly as a child, and my father had this bed made for her especially.” He ran a hand over the engraving of Cynwrig. “He wanted to make sure our fore-father and his king were always watching over her.”

Mrs McIntyre’s smile widened. “Now they’ll both watch over you while you’re here.”

Harriet flushed and looked back at the engraving. Well okay, that makes perfect sense now, she thought.

Mrs McIntyre strode to a tall, intricately carved wardrobe. “Now, I know you don’t… well… we have some of Jess’ old clothes in here as well, if you would like,” she said awkwardly.

“Well, I… I don’t wanna impose,” Harriet stammered.

Mr McIntyre smiled. “Nonsense, Jess knew you were coming to stay here. She was the one who suggested you use her old room and said whatever you want is yours. You’re a little taller than Jess was, but I’m sure Dobby would not hesitate to alter anything to fit you as quickly as he can.”

Harriet blushed. “Thank you very much, really, I… I never expected—”

Mrs McIntyre crossed over and put her hands on Harriet’s shoulder, looking at her very seriously. “Harriet dear, it is perfectly fine. Like we said, your comfort and safety are our only concern.”

Harriet felt her cheeks get even hotter but she finally smiled and nodded. “Okay, thank you still.”

“Good,” Mr McIntyre said chuckling. “Try on whatever you’d like, and the bathroom is through that door there. You may bathe to your heart’s content and try on anything you’d like and if it doesn’t fit, just call out Dobby’s name.”

“And to get to Scott’s room, take a left out the door and it is three doors down on the right, dear,” Mrs McIntyre said. “Feel free to wake him when you’re ready.”

Harriet giggled and nodded.

An hour later, Harriet was knocking on Scott’s door. She had washed up as quickly as she could, but the water was so warm and the tub so comfortable Harriet had been unable to help relaxing. It felt as though the water was sucking all of the bad and scary things from her mind for her. She was safe, she was staying with friends, and she could go into Hogsmeade. That was all that mattered.

After her bath, Harriet had spent almost as much time going through the old clothes. She picked out what she wanted (or at least what she felt comfortable with) and called for Dobby. The elf appeared before she even finished his name.

He had done a marvellous job, the clothes fit and looked just like brand new, even if old fashioned. She wore a white t-shirt underneath bib-overall shorts, white, blue-striped tube socks and denim trainers.

Harriet knocked again, louder this time. There was a disgruntled moan from behind the door. “Muuuuummmmm… it’s only ten!”

“Yeah and there’s lots to do!” Harriet called.

There was a pause and the sound of scrambling. “Ow,” she heard Scott grunt following a loud thump.

“You okay?” Harriet asked.

“Kicked the bedpost,” Scott grumbled. The shuffling resumed and finally Scott opened the door.

He was beaming and Harriet leapt up hugging him tight around the neck. “Ack!” Scott grunted but laughed and hugged her back.

“You made it, eh?” He asked grinning as Harriet let go.

“Yep, Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins brought me real early this morning,” Harriet replied.

Scott looked jealous. “What? Why didn’t Mum and Dad wake me?”

“They might have tried but you don’t seem to wake up easily,” she teased.

Scott rolled his eyes, “Yeah-yeah,” he muttered but smiled.

“Thank you so much for the new cage for Hedwig, by the way! I haven’t had time to put it together though.”

“You’re welcome! And that’s alright, we can put it together tonight—OH! We have to go get Kieran!”

“Definitely!” Harriet laughed.

They were off. Scott pointed out all the things that Harriet had missed on her way in while it had still been dark. There was a lovely gazebo where they often ate their meals in the summer, the old blackthorn tree Jess had used to make her first wand, the line where the magical protection surrounding Glen Raglan ended.

Harriet felt a shiver as she crossed the line. It somehow felt as though a weight had been added to her shoulders, and some of her worries crept back in. Was she still safe? Was she allowed to cross this line? If she was supposed to be staying at Glen Raglan for her protection shouldn’t she still be inside?

However, Scott merely smiled down at her and they kept walking. It was just then that Harriet noticed how much taller than her he had gotten. He had always had at least an inch on her, but now he had to be three inches taller than her, and Harriet herself had grown.

They reached the end of the lane where the Knight Bus had dropped Harriet off. She looked around but she did not see a house just across the road.

“I thought Mrs O’Brien said—”

Scott laughed, cutting her off. “Well, they live relatively right across the road,” Scott said. “Glen Raglan is, well… pretty big…” he admitted, his cheeks going pink. He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly.

Harriet bit her lip. She knew Scott didn’t like talking about his family’s status or money. And now Harriet could see why. Harriet had felt embarrassed over her own inheritance last summer after seeing how little money the Weasleys had in their vault. She could only imagine how Scott felt.

“This is where Kieran and I meet up,” Scott said, changing the subject.

“Really?” Harriet asked, marking the spot in her memory. “He does live a bit further away than it seemed, doesn’t he?”

“Well… we’re just about there, really,” Scott admitted. “We try and meet up ‘half-way.’ I never really want him to think I’m treating him like he’s a… you know… but I have always made sure I’m the one who walks the further distance.”

“Yeah,” Harriet nodded, knowing exactly what Scott was having trouble saying. She remembered how she had felt seeing Tori, one of the American refugees, trying to help Kieran through the portrait hole at the start of the previous school year. Sure, Kieran had his leg, but he could still walk and get around.

After another five minutes they came across a modest two-story house. It had beige wooden siding instead of stone and a grey and brown shingled roof. On the left side of the front door was a set of simple sliding windows while the right had a large bay window. There was a tall brick chimney on the right side of the house and two gabled windows on the second floor with a skylight in between. A row of neatly trimmed bushes lined the front of the house.

The pair walked up to the front door and Scott didn’t even knock, just opened it and called out: “Hello! Company!”

“Hello, hello!” Harriet heard Mrs O’Brien call and Scott stepped inside.

Harriet followed and they entered into a short hallway. The walls were a soothing crème colour, with a dark hardwood floor and long area rugs. To the right was an open doorway to the sitting room while to the left was clearly a bedroom. There were two more doors off the hallway and one down at the very end. By the sight of the hanging pots and pans and the cabinets Harriet was sure that was the kitchen.

Mrs O’Brien stepped through the door to the kitchen. Somehow, Harriet had expected her to be wearing an apron, cooking something as Mrs Weasley so often was. She was greatly surprised to see Mrs O’Brien wearing a tennis outfit with a towel draped over her shoulders. She had clearly worked up a sweat.

“Hello you two,” Mrs O’Brien said walking towards them. “I’d give you both hugs but—” she laughed and wiped her forehead with the towel.

“Understood, Mrs O’Brien,” Scott said smiling. “Kieran up yet?”

“Nah, still sleeping as best I know,” Mrs O’Brien said.

There was the sound of a slamming screen door and Mr O’Brien stepped into the kitchen doorway, also dressed for tennis and carrying two rackets.

“Oh there yeh two are,” he said smiling. “The lug’s still asleep most like’, so you wanna be sure to knock extra hard.”

Scott laughed. “Don’t gotta tell me! Come on!” he said and Harriet followed him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was more modern than the Weasleys’. There was a refrigerator and a modern gas-range with nice white counters and wooden cabinets. There were three more doors, one that looked like it led to a basement, another that led upstairs, and finally a door that led out into the back garden.

Scott led her up the stairs where they came to a little landing with two more doors. Scott grinned at her and made a “shhhh” gesture and knocked loudly.

“Scoooooooooooott it’s only ten-thirty!” Harriet heard Kieran protest through the door. Harriet giggled quietly.

“Aye, got a surprise for ya,” Scott called back. He winked at Harriet who nodded.

“What is it?” Kieran muttered. Scott grinned and didn’t reply. Harriet heard more rustling and the creaking of a bed. The door opened and Harriet gasped as Kieran was revealed. His hair was a complete mess, but that wasn’t what caught Harriet off guard. What caught Harriet off guard was the fact Kieran was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

“OY!” Kieran shouted slamming the door shut. “Honestly! You could have given me a little more warning than that!”

For the first time in her life, Harriet actually fell over from laughing.

“Fishing?”

“Aye, fishing.”

“You want me to go fishing?”

“You wanted to know what we do for fun.” Kieran had finally got dressed and they were headed back to Scott’s.

“Heh, well I coulda offered ta play tennis,” Kieran said laughing.

“Aye, Kieran does have a killer serve.”

“Followed by killer pain in ma knee, yeah,” Kieran muttered.

Scott rolled his eyes. Harriet bit her lip thinking. She wasn’t anxious to make Kieran uncomfortable talking about his leg, even if he didn’t seem bothered by it. It was often a part of Kieran and Scott’s banter.

“So… what’s so exciting about fishing?”

“Quidditch players,” Kieran mumbled and Harriet rolled her eyes.

“Well, nothing, that’s kinda the point,” Scott laughed. “It’s to help you relax. It’s peaceful.”

“Well, I suppose I can deal with peaceful…”

“Well I mean it’s not got much on killing basilisk with a sword,” Kieran teased.

Harriet punched his shoulder.

They got back to McIntyre Manor and Scott stopped inside the front door, opening a closet and pulling out three long fishing poles.

“Hello, you three. Fishing?” Scott’s mother asked as she passed through the entrance hall.

“Aye,” Scott said handing Harriet a pole.

“Well, be careful, the river has a real strong current,” she said.

“We know, mum,” Scott said in an ever-suffering tone. Mrs McIntyre shot him a dirty look and he blushed sheepishly. “Sorry Mum… we’ll be careful.”

“Good,” she said putting a smile back on. She strode off but Scott kept his abashed demeanour as they grabbed some wellingtons, a picnic basket of sandwiches, and a blanket that Dobby brought them and headed back outside.

They found a spot in the shade a little ways down the river, out of sight of the manor. They rolled out the blanket and sat down on it. Kieran broke out the can of worms.

“Okay, what else is there?” Harriet asked after twenty minutes. Kieran and Scott almost dropped their rods laughing.

Harriet pouted and cast her line again. The current was rapid as Mrs McIntyre had said. They all had to keep casting and recasting as the current carried their lines downstream. However, after another fifteen minutes or so, Harriet was finally starting to get in the groove of fishing. It was very peaceful, the three of them just sitting and chatting about life.

Harriet filled them in on her summer with the Dursleys. She got right up to the night Aunt Marge attacked her when she finally paused. She didn’t know how to talk about that subject just yet.

“Then what happened?” Kieran asked, giving his line an excited twitch before looking disappointed and reeling in his line to recast.

“I… well… I woke up my aunt and she just… went crazy,” Harriet said, trying to sound casual.

She didn’t know why she wasn’t telling them about what she had been doing when Aunt Marge came in. It had been childish to still play games like that, but that wasn’t the reason. Aunt Marge’s words still ate at her, the look of horror and disgust on her face. But why, why did that hurt her so badly? Aunt Marge had called her all sorts of mean, horrible things before. Why did that make her feel so shameful?

Fortunately, Harriet was distracted from her thoughts when there was finally a tug on her line.

“Set the hook! Set the hook!” Scott said excitedly.

“How!?” Harriet said starting to panic.

“Just give the rod a twitch back!” Kieran exclaimed.

Harriet did as told. The fish felt huge as it tugged on the line, though Harriet wasn’t sure. She had never fished before.

“Okay you got it!” Kieran said. “Reel it in, but not too hard, don’t wanna snap the line.”

“Like this?” Harriet asked, fumbling a little.

“Pull back on the rod and then reel the line in as you let it down, then repeat,” Scott explained.

“Here, I’ll help,” Kieran said and moved behind Harriet. He took hold of the rod above and below her hands and pulled back and let the rod down. “Now reel.”

Harriet nodded and turned the reel handle as Kieran let the rod down. He pulled back again and Harriet reeled in quickly once more when he let the rod back down.

“Got it?” He asked. Harriet swallowed and nodded. For some reason, she really did not want him to let go of the rod, but he did.

Harriet kept doing as Kieran had shown her, and finally the fish came to the surface.

“Nice perch!” Scott said looking impressed. “Couple pounds at least!”

Harriet beamed as Kieran took hold of the fish and took the hook out. He smiled and handed it to Harriet. It felt slippery but not as slimy as she had thought it was going to feel. It wasn’t a very large fish, but Harriet was impressed by how strong it felt in her hands as it wriggled.

“We shoulda brought the—oh wait, keep forgetting! Dobby!” Scott called. The house-elf appeared next to them with a pop that surprised Harriet so much she almost dropped the fish.

“Yes, Master Scott—oh! Congratulations Harriet Potter! It is a most fine fish!”

“Th-thanks, Dobby,” Harriet blushed.

Scott smiled. “Quick! Get the camera for us so we can get a picture and put the fish back in the river!”

“At once Master Scott!” Dobby said and disappeared with a loud crack, reappearing a second later holding a large, old-fashioned camera, much like the one Colin Creevey had at the start of his first year. Kieran and Scott both put their arms around her shoulders and they all smiled as Dobby snapped the picture.

* * * *

The rest of the first week passed as a blur. Everywhere she went and looked there was something new and exciting to discover. They explored much of the manor, finding some places even Scott didn’t know about, such as the wine cellar. However, Dobby caught them there and shooed them out.

“This is not a suitable place for you young masters and miss!”

The most fun was exploring the attic. There was just so much to discover. In her mind Harriet could never help but feel she was looking for clues. She wanted to suggest her Nancy Drew game to Kieran and Scott, but again the lingering words of Aunt Marge kept barging into her mind.

Freak!

As both boys often had chores and housework to do, even Scott (Dobby having days off and not being able to do everything at once), Harriet often found herself hanging out with just Kieran or Scott individually. Each had their own passions and interests that she had never really known about at Hogwarts.

Despite his usual bookish nature at school, Scott spent most of his time exploring the woods at Glen Raglan. Harriet had often wondered, since last spring, just how Scott had managed to follow the basilisk without being heard the night Riddle had sent the giant snake to kill him (another bit of information she had never told Scott). It did not take Harriet long to figure out why.

After so many years growing up exploring the woods, Scott had become quite a master at stalking through them. He knew the right kind of shoes to wear, where best to set his feet, and how fast to move. It was impressive at first to watch, however it soon became obvious that Scott’s preferred target with Harriet around was not squirrels or the deer that lived in the woods.

No. His new favourite target was Harriet. Time and again Harriet would be trying to sneak along after Scott when suddenly he would disappear and reappear behind her, grabbing her from behind and causing her to shriek. However, Scott would usually flee before Harriet’s wrath as she attempted to pummel his shoulder in retaliation. Harriet was surprised to find she was getting rather good at hitting people in the shoulder, not that she was sure that really counted as a talent.

“So, why do you like being out in the woods so much at home, yet spend all your time studying at Hogwarts?” Harriet asked one sunny afternoon.

Scott flushed a little and shrugged. “It’s what I’m supposed to do, I guess… Heh, maybe it’s just wood?” he said looking around at the trees. “I can’t go into the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, so I run into a forest of another kind?”

Harriet thought it made sense, but she still felt like there was something Scott wasn’t telling her.

Her time alone with Kieran was much more subdued, but Harriet didn’t mind. It was very peaceful, usually involving long walks down the paths of Glen Raglan or just sitting and talking in his room. She was learning more about his family than she had ever known before. His father was the son of a pair of star tennis players. Kieran’s mom had not grown up around tennis, but had picked it up shortly after meeting Kieran’s father. Harriet was even more surprised to find out both of Kieran’s parents had been Quidditch players as well.

Surprisingly, Harriet found her time with Kieran slightly more awkward than with Scott. It wasn’t that she had more fun with Scott; it was more that she felt bad Kieran just couldn’t do all the things his friend liked to do. She felt Kieran deserved to be able to do anything he wanted, not have to settle on things because of his leg.

For instance, Kieran did confide to her that he had always wanted to play tennis like his parents, but he just couldn’t move well enough on his leg. So instead he learned how to have fun other ways: reading, taking leisurely walks, and of course, fishing.

“So… do you get… I don’t know… jealous, sometimes?” Harriet asked nervously the first afternoon of her second week.

“About what?” Kieran asked. Harriet rolled her eyes in her mind. She knew Kieran was playing stupid again.

“Well, I mean… like when I talk about Quidditch… or when your folks are playing tennis…” Harriet said carefully, “You always make jokes about your leg…”

“It… it’s fine, Harriet. It’s sort of a reality I have to live with, you know? Yeah, sure I wish I could fly broomsticks or run or just… you know, walk?”

Harriet flushed looking down at her hands in her lap. “Sorry…”

“Harriet, I said it’s fine,” he said bumping her shoulder.

“I know… I just… you’re my friend, but I feel like I know the least about you of everyone! I never know what’s okay to say or not okay to say, I never wanna offend you or make you feel like I’m being insensitive about your, yeah, and just—”

Kieran simply sighed and put an arm around her shoulder. “Harriet, honest, you’re fine. You’re an awesome Quidditch player; I want you to be proud of it. I want my folks to be proud of themselves.”

Harriet swallowed and sighed resting her head on Kieran’s shoulder. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know?”

Kieran laughed.

Somehow, despite the fanciness of the manor, and all the nice things the McIntyres had given her, Harriet found she was starting to prefer the O’Brien house to the McIntyres’. It was quieter, and cosier, and said “family” to her much more than McIntyre Manor did. The O’Briens themselves were also much quicker to laughter than the McIntyres, particularly Mrs O’Brien.

What Harriet thought she liked the most about Mrs O’Brien was that Mrs O’Brien talked to Harriet like she was a grown up. They talked a lot about Quidditch and what life was like for her and Mr O’Brien growing up.

“Aye, I was a beater, as was Kieran’s father,” Mrs O’Brien said. “He was the one who got me on tennis. His parents played it, and Sean picked it up from them. It’s really good for hand-eye coordination. We made a darn good team, we did.”

Harriet smiled. “So, what made you want to play?” Harriet asked, interested.

“Well…” Mrs O’Brien said and gave a little smile in Mr O’Brien’s direction, “Let’s just say I was a sucker for a pair of baby blues… If making them mine meant running about a court, working up a sweat and hitting something with a racket that was worth it in my book. Anyway, we graduated and got jobs and got married and time for Quidditch fell away, but there was always time for tennis.”

Harriet giggled and nodded. “I like the sound of that… just… grow up, get married, get a job…”

“Ooooo got yer eyes set on any boys yet?” Mrs O’Brien teased.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Kinda… but none of them really know I exist… well I mean, they know I exist… everyone knows I exist.”

Mrs O’Brien’s eyes twinkled. “Oh I wouldn’t say that, love. I’m sure there’s a least one boy out there who thinks you’re the most wonderful thing to ever exist and it has nothing at all to do with a scar or You-Know-Who or fame.”

“Really?” Harriet asked, unconvinced.

“Really,” Mrs O’Brien said enigmatically.

Harriet changed the subject. “So… Mr O’Brien said you went to school with my mum and dad, right?”

Mrs O’Brien’s smile faltered briefly. “Aye, we did.”

“What were they like?” Harriet asked.

Mrs O’Brien continued to smile, but there was still something strained behind it.

“They were wonderful people, honey—well…” she paused and the mischievousness returned to her smile. “Yer da was a bit of a dork… he was seeker too, you know?”

“I do, how do you mean a dork?”

“Ohhh you know, he just let it all go to his head a little bit. He’d ruffle his hair all the time to look like he’d just got done flying, he’d walk around letting go and catching snitches he swiped from Madame Hooch…”

“Madame Hooch was around way back then?”

“Oh, aye,” Mrs O’Brien replied.

“Wow… heh… but you’re right… my dad was kind of a dork wasn’t he?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs O’Brien laughed. “But he was a good dork, who loved you and your mother more than life itself.”

“So what was my mum like?”

Mrs O’Brien smiled brighter. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but I think you pretty much just have to look in a mirror to know what she was like.”

“Really?” Harriet asked, surprised.

“Really. It’s almost uncanny in fact, well you got the glasses and the black hair, but it’s in your personality. You take a bit more physically from your da I think, but you definitely get one hundred percent of your personality from yer mum.”

Harriet beamed.

As the second week drew to a close, Harriet was starting to get mixed feelings. They had yet again planned going to Diagon Alley together with all of their friends. However, as with the Burrow, Harriet wasn’t all that sure she was ready for the summer to come to an end. She wanted to go back and see all her friends and play Quidditch, but she also was having too much fun.

However, something interesting happened halfway through the second week at the manor. Harriet got to meet Jess McIntyre again. Not only that, she got to meet the newest student at Hogwarts.

Harriet and the McIntyres were having tea while they waited on the patio the afternoon that Jess was supposed to arrive. Harriet was doubly excited. She had only met Jess once before, when she had brought Ronnie her new wand last year. Ronnie had needed a new wand after her old wand had been snapped when her father inadvertently parked his car next to the Womping Willow, a vicious tree on the Hogwarts grounds that smashed anything and anyone who got near it.

Harriet supposed part of the reason she wanted to meet Jess so badly was she she’d spent two weeks literally walking in her shoes. At the moment Harriet was wearing one of Jess’ old white floral sundresses and some sandals. She knew Jess had said Harriet could have any of her old clothes she wanted, but Harriet still felt awkward about it.

And yet, Harriet loved it. There were so many cute dresses and clothes she’d never had the chance to wear at the Dursleys. The only nice thing I ever got from them was the dress I wore to meet the Masons, Harriet thought. I’m so glad Mrs Weasley was able to get the pudding stains out. She now kept the dress tucked away in her trunk for special occasions.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car and Harriet furrowed her brow in surprise. The last thing she had expected was Jess to arrive by car. But she was right, a few seconds later a shining car came driving down the lane and stopped in front of them. The door opened and Jess McIntyre stepped out.

She was as tall as Mr McIntyre, but with a curtain of dark brown hair and blue eyes set in a round, smiling face. She hurried over to hug Mr and Mrs McIntyre and Scott before smiling down at Harriet and holding out a hand.

“Dear God girl ya wear that dress a thousand and a half times better than I ever did,” she declared shaking Harriet’s hand with a very firm grip.

“Th-thank you Miss,” Harriet said blushing.

“Oh Jesus girl, call me Jess, ever’one does! So, the customer here yet?”

“Nah, be a little while yet. Have a seat!” Mr McIntyre said.

They retook their seats and Mr and Mrs McIntyre chatted away with Jess while Scott and Harriet sat quietly drinking their tea. Finally Jess turned back to Harriet.

“So Miss Potter, how’s your friend Ronnie and her wand?”

“Oh, great I think,” Harriet said caught off guard. “She loves it and it works really well for her. Only took her a couple days to forget about her old wand altogether I think.”

Jess smiled and nodded. “The mark of a proper wand pairing. Her old Ollivander wand was a good one but it wasn’t truly her wand. It had enough life left in it for me to glean a little of its old life. Poor dear could have been so much happier had she got her own wand from the start. Wands don’t turn over allegiances so readily.”

“So, what got you into wand-making?” Harriet asked.

Jess laughed. “It’s interesting.”

Mr McIntyre snorted into his teacup. “Oh come on, Jess.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh alright, tis a bit more than that. Just a bit of a family tradition. It’s how we the McIntyres made our money after magic appeared in the family line.”

“Well the whole royal gifts thing helped,” Mr McIntyre chuckled.

“Okay, yeah it maybe gave some of the original investment money to start the business, yes,” Jess retorted.

“So, is that why you make wands for free?” Harriet asked.

Jess nodded. “Aye, just don’t need to take money for them anymore. The family fortune is prudently invested, just lets me do what I want, really. Travel about, find good wand trees and core materials, pretty good life really.”

Harriet gave a laugh. “Must be nice.”

Jess smiled and patted Harriet’s shoulder. “All lives are different, love. Just gotta make the best of what it gives ya. Sitting around being unhappy with yer lot usually just leaves you feeling more miserable, and makes it harder to get through each day. Hope, always have it. Misery breeds misery, no point fretting.”

Harriet nodded, digesting that information. Just then there was the sound of feet on the gravel drive. Even stranger, Harriet was sure she could hear a horse. Everyone turned to look and as they did, Harriet could not help but notice Mr and Mrs McIntyres’ and Jess’ hands all go towards their pockets. They kept hearing the footsteps and the hoof-clops getting louder when finally:

“Hello?” called a pleasant woman’s voice.

“Over here, Miss Burbage,” Mr McIntyre called and rose to his feet.

Around the corner came a middle-aged woman and a boy who looked to be around Harriet’s age. They were in fact accompanied by a chocolate brown horse with a black nose. The boy was fairly tall, about the same height as Kieran and Scott, but slighter in build. He had dirty-blonde hair and a very noticeable tan. He looked like he was squinting, but Harriet could just detect blue-green irises through the squint.

Harriet got up with the rest of the family too. They walked over to greet the newcomers. The boy looked back at the horse and to Harriet’s surprise, it gently nudged his shoulder with its nose and the boy took a step or two forward.

“Well, you must be Mister Lee,” Mr McIntyre said holding out a hand.

The boy shook and then turned to shake with Mrs McIntyre, Jess, Scott and finally Harriet. As he looked at Harriet his eyes widened a little. Harriet flushed. His eyes had not gone up to her scar, which was covered by her hair anyway. They had gone down and up again, taking in the rest of her instead. However, after that he averted his eyes, just looking down at his feet.

“Jackson, this is my wife, Paige; my cousin, Jess; our son, Scott; and his friend, Harriet Potter,” Mr McIntyre said introducing everyone.

On hearing her name, Jackson looked back up at Harriet again, his eyes wide open now. However, it wasn’t this that caught Harriet’s attention. It was the way the horse had snorted and turned its own head to look at her, its own eyes going wide. Or at least she thought they did. It was difficult to tell, and that certainly wasn’t very horse-like behaviour, but no one else seemed to notice.

Mr McIntyre didn’t seem to notice as he said, “Everyone, this is Jackson Lee, another refugee student from America.”

“Hi,” he said. He still looked shy, and wasn’t really meeting anyone’s eyes, especially not Harriet’s.

“And this is Miss Charity Burbage, former Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts—”

“Oh come on, Dorian, like I really counted. I was only there for a year,” Miss Burbage said waving a dismissive hand.

“And who is this gorgeous beauty?” Jess said as she took a step towards the horse.

“E-Epeius,” Jackson managed to mumble.

“Gorgeous… simply gorgeous…” Jess said rubbing her hand up and down the horse’s long snout. It gave a little snort and clopped a foot, its eyes closing in apparent appreciation of the petting.

Mr McIntyre chuckled. “Well, let’s all have a seat, shall we?”

They all sat back down and Harriet couldn’t help but notice that Jackson took the seat as far from her as possible. Scott seemed to be studying Jackson intently. Harriet wasn’t sure what the look on his face was. Was it uncertainty, or suspicion? Somehow, from deep inside her head, the word that came to the front of her mind when she looked at his face said: jealousy.

“Well anyway, as I said, Miss Burbage used to be the Muggle Studies professor. Now she’s head of the new Department for Misplaced Youths, a new office created under Fudge’s orders just this summer.”

“Just this year?” Scott asked. “So you’re not the people who brought the refugees over?”

“No, dear,” Miss Burbage said. “Our role is the protection of the students who are already here. We no longer call them refugees,” Miss Burbage reminded Scott.

“Right, sorry,” Scott said. “So… why did you leave for the new job?”

“Well, the Minister himself asked me to step in. Many of the students have Muggle families and so I am able to liaise with them effectively. And don’t worry, dear, no apology necessary. The last year was a… well… fiasco. Anyway, there was an incident over this past summer that made keeping a closer watch on the children a necessity.”

“Sirius Black you mean?” Harriet asked.

“No dear, a much different matter,” Miss Burbage said gravely.

“Well, enough of this dark stuff, eh?” Jess said boisterously and patted Jackson hard on the shoulder. “Let’s get this boyo measured up so I can get him just the right wand before classes start, yeah?”

“Why don’t you and Harriet head down to the O’Brien’s?” Mrs McIntyre said. She sounded as though she was trying to be casual, though she seemed very serious.

Scott nodded and got to his feet. Harriet rose too though she was hesitant. There was more going on here than they were telling her. She kept stealing glances back over her shoulder at the three adults sitting around the table while Jess led Jackson into McIntyre Manor. Finally after they got out of sight, Harriet stopped.

“No, I’ve gotta know.”

“Know what?” Scott asked.

Harriet didn’t answer, she darted into the woods, slipping off her sandals and sneaking along as quietly as she could. She wasn’t as good as Scott yet, but she was lighter than him and walked even more lightly as she snuck through the woods, back towards the gazebo. Finally she heard voices.

“So it’s true then? Separatist forces really are trying to get a hold of saved children?” she heard Mrs McIntyre ask worriedly.

“Yes, the most persistent one is named Kinney. He first came pretending to be an envoy looking to reclaim children for their other family in the states. Fortunately, Professor Howe from Rathlin was on to him and warned the Minister of the plan. Fudge interceded and had Kinney sent off.”

“Well that’s good,” Mr McIntyre said.

“If only it had worked,” Miss Burbage said gravely. “He gave the Auror who was escorting him out of the country the slip. No one’s seen any sign of him since.”

Harriet bit her lip. She looked and saw Scott crouching behind her. He glared at her; clearly not happy she was eavesdropping on his parents, but he didn’t do anything more, just listened in.

“Really? Do you think he’s dangerous?” Mrs McIntyre asked. “If he presents a danger to the school, combined with Black on the loose?”

“Unfortunately, he is. Kinney is not an envoy of any kind. He’s essentially a mercenary. He’s dangerous and ruthless,” Miss Burbage said. “He named Arnold Hoffman’s daughter and the Tyler sisters on his list of those he’s after. He’s after young Jackson Lee, too.”

“Why him?” Mr McIntyre asked curiously. “The Tylers and Miss Hoffman I could see but I believe Jackson’s family are dead are they not?”

“They are,” Miss Burbage said. “But Jackson was the only survivor of the attack on that town last June. He knows the real story of what happened. He doesn’t seem to remember the attack, at least not consciously, but he talks in his sleep. Miss Momori says it’s more than just repression.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean someone put a memory charm on him. Someone wanted to make him forget everything that he had seen that day.”

“A Unionist soldier?” Mrs McIntyre asked. Her voice sounded muffled, and Harriet was sure she had her hands over her mouth.

“Must have been. We’re not sure why, Dumbledore says it must have been done out of guilt. Anyway, Jackson’s probably in the most danger out of all of the children who’ve been relocated. Some Unionist leaders want him because if he can prove that the Secessionists were in the town against the will of the denizens it can fix the horrible damage to their international image. Other Unionist leaders want him because apparently he killed a Unionist officer who was leading the attack on his town.”

“He killed—?” Mrs McIntyre started to ask but she paused when Miss Burbage cut her off.

“We can’t know that for sure. The boy is suffering from severe emotional trauma coupled with a powerful memory charm. Miss Momori says we can’t start working on the memory charm until we deal with the emotional damage. Personally I argued against his even going to Hogwarts this year, for his own safety and others.”

“So why do Secessionist forces want him then?” Mr McIntyre asked.

“They want to silence him. He alone truly knows that the Secessionist forces in that town were themselves invaders. That is his story anyway. The Secessionists are exploiting every ounce of the last attack they can get, and if Jackson is able to bring it to light that they were not the true victims of the attack and that they were using the Muggle civilians in the town as human shields then it will ruin their whole case and cause even more negative public support for their side.”

“I see…” Mr McIntyre said.

“I just… I can’t see how a young boy could have killed someone… especially an army officer. How would he have even known how to perform the necessary curses?”

Harriet heard Miss Burbage sigh. “He didn’t use a curse, Mrs McIntyre. The rumour is he used a gun.”

“A gun…?” Mr McIntyre asked.

“Yes, an old revolver. That was how the death was reported in Unionist Army reports, and it was corroborated by Canadian authorities who say the boy was found with a gun matching the description that had been fired several times.”

“Oh… oh that poor boy… that poor, poor boy…” Mrs McIntyre said.

“Yes… he was found with the horse in Canada, some three hundred miles away from where the attack took place. No one’s quite sure how he and the horse got that far that fast, the boy’s wand was broken and he’s much too young to have apparated. Anyway, he almost refuses to leave the horse’s side now. Dumbledore had to go all the way over to Canada himself to talk Jackson into coming, promising there would be space at the school for the horse and that he would be well cared for.”

Harriet looked at Scott. His eyes were as wide as hers. This year was starting to look more and more daunting. Sirius Black was after her and some other unnamed former spy at Hogwarts. Some man named Kinney was going after some of her new American friends. And to top it off, another new student had turned up who had possibly killed someone.

Harriet and Scott turned away and finally snuck back out of the woods towards the O’Brien house. However, as they got back out onto the lane Harriet paused again. The horse, Epeius, was standing there, looking at her. Its ears were laid back and its eyes narrowed. Was the horse looking at her as though it disapproved?

Harriet shook her head. The horse continued to stare or glare or whatever it was doing as Harriet and Scott backed away. They turned, and headed towards the road. Why can’t anything in my life ever be normal or simple for once?!

Chapter Text

“So, do you think he really did kill someone?”

Harriet and Scott were sitting in Kieran’s room telling him everything they had overheard.

“I don’t know. I can’t see him actually being dangerous; I mean would Dumbledore actually let someone who was dangerous come to Hogwarts?” Kieran said, scratching his chin.

“Well, he did hire Snape,” Scott joked causing Kieran to double over with laughter.

Harriet laughed as well, but not quite as hard as Kieran and Scott. She did not have the same feelings of animosity towards Professor Snape, the Hogwarts Potions Master, as other students. She wasn’t exactly cordial with Professor Snape. In fact most of the time in Potions class Professor Snape pretended that Harriet did not exist. However, Harriet would never forget how Professor Snape had gone with her to help save Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets.

“Well, I mean really, if you think about it, what if he—you know—he did do it? By the sound of it he was probably protecting himself. Maybe he didn’t mean to, or it was an accident? We really don’t know anything about him or what happened. I mean Miss Burbage didn’t even know,” Harriet said changing the subject back to Jackson.

“That’s true…” Scott muttered.

“Wonder what house he’ll be in,” Kieran said.

“Gryffindor,” Scott replied without hesitation.

“How do you know?” Harriet asked.

Scott shrugged. “He just looked like a Gryffindor. He had that silly, ‘it’s just me against the world’ look to him.”

“Oy!” Harriet and Kieran both protested. Kieran threw a pillow at Scott who deflected it with his hands.

“Well if you ask me,” Harriet retorted, “he had that squinty-eyed ‘I read way too much’ Ravenclaw look to him.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, but when he’s sorted into Gryffindor, don’t say I didn’t tell you so!”

There was only a week and a half left of summer and Harriet vowed to spend it doing as many fun things as she could. She found it amusing that only two years ago she was sure there was nowhere in the world she would ever feel at home. Now between the Weasleys’, the McIntyres’, the O’Briens’, and Hogwarts, Harriet felt she had four homes. Four places filled with people who cared and would do anything for her.

The remainder of her time at the McIntyres’ was made even more fun because Jess decided to stay. Harriet listened intently to all her stories growing up. Once more, Harriet saw the connections woven through her friendships: the death of family members at the hand of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Jess revealed that she had lost her own parents at Lord Voldemort’s command when she was only eleven. Her father had been a professional wand-maker, and essentially Ollivander’s only competition in Great Britain. The Death Eaters had shown up at their house, demanding that her father work for them, supplying their army with wands. Jess’ father had refused, and they killed him and Jess’ mother because of it.

Mr McIntyre’s father had been Jess’ godfather. After her parents’ deaths Jess had gone to live at McIntyre Manor where she became Mr McIntyre’s adopted older sister. They had sent her to Hogwarts and encouraged her to learn all she could about wand-lore to carry on her family’s legacy.

“Wish I’d had a cool godfather to go live with like that,” Harriet had grumbled.

Jess’ lips tightened and she put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “I know, love, you deserved so much better. And still do, but ask yerself, do yeh like who yeh are right now?”

“Yeah,” Harriet said without thinking.

“Well then, what’s the real fuss? Everything that has happened to you has made you who you are, for good or for ill, yeah? Sometimes those things aren’t so great, but they are all part of the equation of who you are,” Jess explained.

Harriet blushed, but smiled. Jess had much the same nature as Mrs O’Brien, treating Harriet like an equal. Not that Mr or Mrs McIntyre ever spoke down to Harriet or made her feel stupid. They just seemed much more prim and proper and were constantly fussing and worried.

The families had arranged to go to Diagon Alley for the students’ books and equipment on the 31st of August, the day before the train left for Hogwarts. The families had all booked rooms in the Leaky Cauldron, the little pub that hid Diagon Alley from the Muggle World. It was bewitched so that Muggles could not see it, but magical people could. Harriet remembered entering Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid on her eleventh birthday. It was the first time she had been aware of just how well known she was in the magical world.

Harriet was even more excited because Jess had offered to drive Kieran, Scott, and Harriet to Diagon Alley herself the day before. She wanted to make it a fun day trip, and to show Harriet the McIntyre’s unicorn herd.

The only time Harriet had ever seen a unicorn was during the detention she received after helping relocate Hagrid’s pet dragon, Norbert. She, Neville, and Draco Malfoy had been sent into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and his boar-hound, Fang, searching for an injured unicorn. Harriet had found the unicorn, but it had already been killed by Professor Quirrell who was sharing a body with Lord Voldemort.

Finally the night of the 29th arrived. Harriet and Scott packed and then ended up staying awake until midnight, talking about the trip the following day. Harriet was especially pleased when Mrs McIntyre magically expanded the inside of Harriet’s trunk for her. This meant not only could she fit all her new clothes in the trunk, but even her broomstick as well.

Harriet barely slept by the time Jess shook her awake at five in the morning. She washed up trying to drive the grogginess out of her mind. Jess had said they would be walking for a while, so Harriet picked out a light-blue button-up shirt, a pair of khaki walking shorts, white knee socks and a pair of brown walking shoes.

“Ooo that’s a right smart look,” Jess said as Harriet stepped out of her room. “Got someone you wanna impress?”

“N-no…?” Harriet stammered, caught off guard by the question.

Jess laughed and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, just givin’ ya a hard time.”

Scott came out of his room. He blinked at the sight of Harriet. “Going on safari?” He teased.

Harriet blushed but Jess put her hands on her hips. “Hey now, that was right high-fashion when I was ‘er age,” she said coming to Harriet’s defence.

Harriet grinned and Scott rolled his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, just teasing,” he said.

Jess levitated their trunks so they followed along behind the group as they headed out for the car. Harriet carried Hedwig’s new cage that Scott had assembled for her, and Scott carried two cages with his owl, Adal and his kestrel, Ayr. Jess carried extra pillows for Harriet and Scott to get some more sleep along the way, as it would be at least a three hour trip before they reached the unicorn ranch.

Harriet felt bad that she had not sent for Hedwig. Unfortunately Mr and Mrs McIntyre had decided that it would be too risky sending letters that might give away Harriet’s whereabouts. The chance to get Hedwig back was another point that had Harriet finally getting excited to leave Glen Raglan for her friends and Hogwarts.

Even if Jess’ car couldn’t fly, it seemed she had not been above giving it a few enhancements of her own. As with Mr Weasley’s car, the inside had been expanded magically. The boot fit both Harriet and Scott’s trunks with ample room to spare. They set the three bird cages easily on the front seat while the back seat was wide enough to fit at least five people.

They all climbed in and were off to Kieran’s. Kieran was already up and waiting for them on his front step with his trunk beside him. Harriet and Scott got out help him.

“Hey you lot,” Kieran said waving. He smiled taking in Harriet’s outfit. “You look smart!”

“Thank you, Kieran,” Harriet replied. She felt her cheeks get very warm but she still turned and stuck her tongue out at Scott who rolled his eyes again.

Scott helped Kieran load his trunk into the boot. They climbed back inside the car, Harriet moving into the middle, and were once again heading down the road. They did manage to talk for about a half hour as Jess drove on, but soon Harriet started feeling her eye-lids getting heavy. Scott stopped talking five minutes later and Harriet saw that his head had dropped onto his pillow which was propped up against a window.

Harriet kicked off her shoes and twisted in her seat a little, turning in Kieran’s direction. She curled her legs up under her and cuddled her pillow, resting her head on it. Kieran stretched and yawned and lay against his own pillow. Harriet smiled softly, took off her glasses, and closed her eyes.

Harriet’s head slid and she jerked awake. She looked around but the whole world was fuzzy. She was sitting upright, lying against something lumpy and oddly shaped. She fumbled around and found her glasses. She put them on and blushed. She remembered where she was now. She was in the back seat of Jess McIntyre’s car, and she had fallen asleep against Kieran.

Fortunately, Kieran looked to be fast asleep. Harriet sat up rapidly and felt her cheeks get hot once more. She looked up in the front and saw Jess looking back at her in the rear-view mirror. Jess’ eyebrow was raised and Harriet could see the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“Oh shut up,” Harriet mouthed back and Jess laughed. The sound of it woke Kieran and Scott who both grunted looking around as they stretched in unison.

“We almost there?” Scott asked.

“We are there,” Jess said smiling. “Just parked.”

“Fantastic,” Kieran said and took down his pillow and opened the door.

Harriet put her shoes back on and climbed out after him, groaning and stretching as she stood up. She looked around and gasped. They were at the edge of a wide open plain surrounded by forest. In the middle was a white, silver, and gold mass. It was moving around and Harriet realized it must be the herd of unicorns.

Jess put two fingers in her mouth and whistled as loud as she could. The herd began moving as one towards them. The ground began to tremble beneath their feet and the herd got close enough Harriet could finally make out individual animals.

The herd came to a stop about ten yards away. Harriet’s mouth was hanging open. The largest animals were pure white with two foot long horns protruding from their foreheads. There were smaller, younger looking members of the herd who were silver. Finally there were the foals which were a shimmering pure-gold. Harriet noted that even the older unicorns seemed to retain their golden hooves.

If a dead unicorn had been the saddest thing Harriet had ever seen, then living unicorns were certainly among the happiest. Harriet didn’t know why, but they somehow filled her with joy as they pranced about looking at her giving playful snorts and whinnies.

“There you are my beauties… oh you gorgeous, gorgeous beauties,” Jess said and slowly strode forward.

At first, Harriet thought she was being cautious but as she took in the sight of Jess’ face, Harriet realized it was reverence.  The tallest of the unicorns, a brilliantly white stallion, strutted towards Jess, his head held high. At first Harriet thought he looked rather haughty, and then she reminded herself that the two foot spike on top of his head would probably be dangerous if he approached Jess with his head lowered.

One of the golden fouls cantered up excitedly beside the stallion. Jess beamed over her shoulder at the three. She gestured to Harriet.

“Come on, Harriet, don’t be shy. Adult unicorns favour lassies,” she said.

Harriet nodded and stepped forward. The unicorn slowly turned its long face towards her. Harriet stopped beside Jess and Jess took a step back. Harriet looked up into the shiny, black eyes and reached up, gently rubbing her hand up the horse’s muzzle, going with the grain of its fur. Just like Epeius the other day, the unicorn closed its eyes and gave a soft snort of appreciation.

Harriet giggled. She got a similar sensation stroking the beautiful horse’s fur as she had when she swallowed a tear from Fawkes the previous spring. It was not nearly as strong, but she did feel a sense of inner-peace and calm. And yet she felt empowered at the same time.

The foal nudged Harriet’s other hand and she giggled, scratching it behind the ears. There was movement on either side of her and Harriet saw Kieran and Scott step up as well, petting the unicorn’s neck.

“Hey Sampson,” Scott said smiling warmly.

“Miss us?” Kieran asked.

The unicorn snorted again and stomped a foot in response.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Kieran said. “Wasn’t on purpose.”

“I thought you said unicorns prefer girls?” Harriet asked Jess.

Jess laughed. “Well, Kieran and Scott are a bit special. See Sampson here gave the tail hairs that I used in their wands.”

“So your wands share a core?” Harriet asked. The only other case of shared cores she had heard was with her own wand and Lord Voldemort’s.

“Yeah,” Scott said patting Sampson’s neck. “Though, I don’t know if it’s just that. I mean, I guess they’re my family’s herd, so, I think they sort of tolerate me a bit better for that. And they’ve always seemed to take a shine to Kieran.”

There was no denying that. At that moment a couple of mares walked up and began nuzzling Kieran who laughed and stroked their muzzles too. Harriet beamed watching as the rest of the herd began moving forward. The foals in particular were very friendly and their whinnies almost sounded like laughter as they pranced and cantered about.

It was one of those wonderful moments where Harriet truly appreciated how different and wonderful the magical world in which she lived really was. It was like a fairy-tale come true as Kieran and Scott introduced her to their favourite members of the herd. It was as if every childhood fantasy of hers had come true. She was surrounded by a sea of beautiful, gentle, magical creatures with two of her best friends.

Though the adults were beautiful, the foals were the most fun. Harriet ended up in a sort of game of tag with some of them. The foals would dart past her, trying to see how close and fast they could go by without Harriet touching them. Harriet laughed and smiled back at Kieran and Scott who were both just standing back and watching her. She felt warmth and happiness bubbling through her as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes. She never remembered being so happy in her life.

They spent another couple of hours with the unicorns when finally it was time to get back on the road. Jess filled Harriet in on the magical properties of unicorns. Apart from being used in wand cores, their tail hairs were also useful as bindings on injuries, strong but flexible. However, this discussion put a worrisome thought in Harriet’s mind.

“S-so… we’ve used powdered unicorn horn in Potions before,” she said awkwardly.

Jess gave a sad, understanding smile. “Well, don’t worry dear, they do not get it from live unicorns.”

“Then—”

“Nor do they kill unicorns to get them. That’s why it’s so expensive an ingredient. They have to wait until the unicorn dies on its own to get the horn,” Jess explained, giving Harriet a comforting smile in the rear-view mirror.

“Oh…” Harriet said in a soft voice. Even thinking about a unicorn dying on its own seemed to fill her with sadness.

“Don’t fret, love. It’s the way of life. Everyone dies eventually, even creatures as wonderful as unicorns. But even in their passing they give us their horns that are used in medicines and curing diseases. So even in death, they are beautiful creatures who do great good,” Jess said.

Harriet smiled and nodded, finally reassured.

From unicorns, the conversation drifted to wand-lore and wand-making. In particular, Harriet was curious about the wand Jess had made for Jackson. Harriet found it interesting that Jackson’s previous wand-core had also been unicorn tail hair like Kieran and Scott’s.

“Red oak was his first wand. Gorgeous it was. Red oak has always made some of the most beautiful o’ wands. They tend to favour duellists, those with quick reflexes, and wit.”

“I see…” Scott muttered thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Did he get Red oak again?”

“No, pine this time,” Jess replied. “Think the attack changed him a bit. Good sign for him.”

“Why’s that?” Harriet asked.

“Well, legend has it pine-wands are destined for owners with long lives ahead of them. Also means he’s adaptable. So even if he seemed a bit, off, when he first arrived, I’m sure by the time classes start he’ll be adjusted well and fit in with everyone else.”

“Think he’d be a Gryffindor?” Harriet asked.

Scott shot her a look but Jess laughed. “If that boy’s not a Gryffindor I’ll eat Sampson,” she said.

Now Scott stuck his tongue out at Harriet. He yelped as Harriet punched his shoulder.

Five hours later, they arrived in London. The three in the back had fallen asleep once more. This time Harriet had been careful to position herself so as not to fall asleep on either Kieran or Scott. It only took them another fifteen minutes to reach the Leaky Cauldron itself. Apparently an increased interior was not the only magical modification that Jess had given her car. It also seemed to be able to fit through gaps that Uncle Vernon’s fancy company car certainly couldn’t have, and had the ability to jump to the front of non-moving queues.

Now that she was finally here, Harriet was beside herself with excitement. She couldn’t wait to see Ronnie, Hermione, Marcus and Dora once more. Jess parked the car in front of the Leaky Cauldron and they all got out and removed their trunks from the boot and their owls and kestral from the front seat and stepped inside.

Tom, the landlord, came over to them, smiling toothlessly.

“’Ello ‘ello again, Miss Jess! Lovely to see you again! And Miss Potter! Blimey it seems like just yesterday yeh were in here on yer very first trip to Diagon Alley!”

“Nice to see you again, sir,” Harriet replied smiling up at him.

Tom beamed and stepped aside, gesturing towards some stairs. “I can show yeh all to yer rooms now, get your trunks put away and get settled in.”

“That would be lovely, Tom, thank you,” Jess replied and Tom led the four up the stairs.

He stopped in front of one door. “You two lads will be in this room ‘ere,” Tom said, opening the door for Kieran and Scott.

The two boys entered and then Tom stopped at the next door and opened it too. “You in here Miss Potter, you’ll be with Miss Ronnie Weasley when she arrives tomorrow.”

Harriet smiled and stepped into the room. It was a very comfortable looking room. The bed was nearly as large as the bed she had slept in at McIntyre Manor, though the furniture here was oak, not cherry. The biggest surprise was what was waiting for her on top of the large wardrobe.

“Hedwig!” Harriet exclaimed as the snowy owl flew down onto Harriet’s arm and immediately began preening her hair and nibbling her ear. “Oh I missed you so much too,” Harriet said gigging as Hedwig’s soft nibbles tickled her ear. She stroked Hedwig’s wings and sat down on the bed looking around. She could hear the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley through her window.

She crossed the room to the window and looked down into the street. Tomorrow she would meet the rest of her best friends down there. And yet, in spite of how happy she felt, there was still the nagging doubt. What if Black did turn up in Diagon Alley? He had killed thirteen people with a single curse in the middle of a crowded street. Would he really care that Harriet was surrounded by other witches and wizards in Diagon Alley?

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Harriet said.

The door opened and Kieran poked his head into the room. “Hey, we’re going down for dinner now, come on!” he said excitedly.

Harriet smiled, let Hedwig flutter up onto the wardrobe once more, and followed him out the door and back down the stairs to the dining room. No, there was no way Black would know she was there in Diagon Alley. She would be surrounded by witches and wizards who could all perform magic, and was seeing her best friends. She was not going to let her fear ruin her good times. She thought of her parents, and Jess’ parents. No, life was much too short to spend worrying about that.

Chapter Text

“HARRIET!”

Ronnie Weasley’s shriek of delight cut the quiet morning air inside the Leaky Cauldron’s dining room. Harriet paused as she came down the stairs and a streak of red hair shot towards her.

“Ronnie!” Harriet laughed as Ronnie hugged her tight, actually lifting her off her feet.

Ronnie set Harriet back down and Harriet smiled turning to hug Ginny who had followed in Ronnie’s wake. “Hey Harriet,” Ginny said, beaming. “Still doing magic outside school, huh?”

Harriet twisted her mouth in irritation. Ginny was referencing the time last year when Dobby had levitated the pudding Aunt Petunia had made for a dinner party. As a result, Harriet received an official warning from the Ministry about using magic outside of school. She was also locked in her room by Uncle Vernon for almost a week before Ronnie, Fred, George and Ginny had shown up in Mr Weasley’s flying car to rescue her.

“I… well… okay it actually was me who did the magic this time but I didn’t mean to do it,” Harriet said defensively.

“Yeah, we know,” Fred said patting her hard on the shoulder.

“Still, gotta give you points for style, blowing her up!” George added, grinning.

“Bet that made a mess,” Fred said, smirking.

“I inflated her, not exploded her, and she was attacking me,” Harriet muttered. She still wasn’t ready to tell anyone why Aunt Marge had been attacking her.

“Just as good,” George shrugged.

“Hello Harriet, dear,” Mrs Weasley said as she walked up to Harriet as well. Before Harriet could reply, Mrs Weasley pulled her into a rib-cracking hug. “So sorry we weren’t here to look after you after that awful woman was so horrible to you!”

“It-it’s okay, Mrs Weasley,” Harriet muttered. “I really had a great time with Scott and Kieran.”

“Harriet was a model guest,” Harriet heard Mrs McIntyre say from nearby.

Harriet saw both Mr and Mrs McIntyre sitting with Jess and the O’Briens at a nearby table drinking coffee.

“Where are Kieran and Scott?” Ronnie asked.

“Probably still sleeping,” Harriet replied.

“Still?!”

“Yeah, they do that,” Harriet said, “a lot.”

Ronnie laughed and Fred and George grumbled. “Oh sure, they got to sleep in. We had to get up at the crack of dawn to be here because Ronnie just couldn’t wait,” Fred groaned.

“Waking up a little early won’t hurt you, Fred,” said Percy who had just walked up to greet Harriet as well. “The Early Seeker catches the Snitch, and all that.”

“Perce… do… do you even know what that means?” George grumbled.

“And says you,” Fred retorted. “Weren’t you the one staying up all night and sleeping all day writing secret letters to your girlfriend last summer?”

Harriet, Ronnie and Ginny laughed. Percy tilted his head back in a dignified way before he turned to Harriet. “It is nice to see you again, Harriet. I trust you had a good summer?”

“Uhh… yeah I guess, thanks Percy,” Harriet replied. She hadn’t thought it was possible for Percy to get more pompous.

Mrs Weasley smiled up at him affectionately. “So, did you hear our good news, Harriet?” Mrs Weasley asked. “Second Head Boy in the family!”

“Yeah, Ronnie told me! Congratulations Percy!” Harriet said smiling.

Percy’s chest swelled even more, his Head Boy badge glinting as he did. Fred and George mimed retching while Ronnie pretended to strangle herself and Ginny tried her best not to laugh.

“Well anyway, how was life at Scott’s? Love your outfit by the way, so retro,” Ginny said taking in Harriet’s attire. Today she had picked out a white turtle-neck with a navy, pleated pinafore dress, white knee socks with black argyle pattern and black penny loafers.

“Oh, thanks Ginny, I got it from Scott’s cousin, Jess.”

“Another outfit of mine she wears a million times better than I ever did,” Jess said, walking over and holding out a hand to Ronnie. “And how are yeh, Miss Ronnie? How’s the wand?”

The Weasleys, McIntyres, and Harriet all sat down together. They ordered breakfast and filled each other in on their summers. Ronnie told Harriet all about Egypt.

“Well the tours and tombs and stuff were cool, but what I liked best was coming across a Muggle football camp there too,” Ronnie said. “Learned some pretty good tricks to practice, which is good, because that was the excuse we gave my summer league coach: I was going abroad to a special football camp for the summer.”

“Yeah, I bet he wasn’t happy to hear you’d be gone.”

“No, he really wasn’t… but that story satisfied him I think.”

Harriet was excited to tell Ronnie and Ginny all about her summer at McIntyre Manor.

“Fishing? That—that sounds like the most boring thing ever. All you do is just sit there and wait for a fish to bite? Seriously?” Ronnie asked.

“Ohhhhh, I wish I could have seen the unicorns,” Ginny moaned.

Harriet smiled. It was something like winning the House Cup to see how well Ginny had returned to her normal self after everything that had happened the previous year. She supposed some time with her family and having fun again in Egypt had helped Ginny get over much of the damage.

It was Hermione who turned up next. She was pleased to see Harriet, but unlike Ronnie and Ginny, she didn’t have quite the same outlook on Harriet’s unintentional magic. “You’re just lucky you weren’t expelled,” Hermione scolded.

“I told you, Hermione, I lost control! She was attacking me, what was I supposed to do?”

“Well, okay you’re right but—”

“Oh leave her alone, Hermione,” Ronnie said, rolling her eyes. “She’s fine isn’t she?”

“So tell me about your time in France,” Harriet said, changing the subject.

They listened to Hermione’s story of her vacation. Harriet was more interested in Hermione’s tale than Ronnie and Ginny were, as most of the sites Hermione had seen were Muggle in nature. Her cousin, Camille, who was also a Muggle-born, had shown Hermione around several magical locations.

It was then that Harriet started to notice there was something a little different about Hermione. She was wearing a simple blue t-shirt, grey shorts and flats, but Harriet noticed a distinct change. While Hermione had been average sized, she now seemed slimmer than she had before the summer, and her arms and legs seemed to be much more toned and muscly compared to last year.

Harriet was about to ask about it when finally Kieran and Scott came down the stairs. They greeted the other girls enthusiastically despite still looking half-asleep. Mrs O’Brien and McIntyre both fussed over the boys, producing combs from nowhere and attempting to tame their wild bed hair.

Next to arrive was Marcus and his father. Mr Weasley greeted Mr Van De Lakk with his usual excitement whenever he met Muggles while Marcus was grinning ear to ear and looking unusually proud. The reason for that was evident when he produced a copy of that morning’s Daily Prophet.

“Should have been more,” Marcus grumbled. “Too many of his fans pleaded for a light sentence… but still, got what he deserved anyway!”

Harriet had to agree. Despite having told them the whole story in his letters, Marcus couldn’t help but give them all the play-by-play of his time in the trial against Lockhart and his trip to Canada with Professor Dumbledore.

“So, what did you think of Jackson?” Harriet asked.

Marcus shrugged. “He seemed an okay bloke. Didn’t talk much, didn’t seem to want to trust anyone or anything but the horse. I kinda hope he’ll be in Gryffindor actually, seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Bet he’ll be a real laugh when he loosens up a bit.”

“Yeah, that was what I thought too,” Scott said.

“You met him then?” Marcus asked.

“Harriet and I did,” Scott said. “He came to the house so Jess could make him a new wand.”

Harriet shot a side-ways glance at Scott. Again she noted how unwilling he was to talk about his family’s wealth, calling his home a ‘house’ instead of a ‘manor’. She still wasn’t sure why. She supposed he simply did not like to brag, as his family’s status and money was not exactly a secret.

“Was he any more talkative with you lot?” Marcus asked. “Didn’t talk much with me. Mostly just listened, then wanted to make absolutely sure his horse really could come to Hogwarts too.”

“Interesting… well the horse definitely could. They showed up with the horse when he came to get his measurements for Jess to make his wand. He wasn’t real talkative then either, especially after he saw Harriet,” Scott added.

Kieran choked on his pumpkin juice and Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Marcus asked, grinning.

“Oh shut up,” Harriet muttered. “He wasn’t that bad.”

“No, but he was obvious,” Scott muttered.

“Since when are you so protective?” Hermione asked, coolly.

Scott flushed. “I’m not! Well, I am, I was just surprised is all.”

“Suuuuure,” Ronnie teased, making Scott go even redder.

“Oy! You lot!” called another familiar voice from the doorway. Dora had finally arrived. She was beaming as she came in to the pub, an arm around her younger sister, Emma. Again Harriet found it amusing that despite being two years younger than Dora, Emma looked to have a full five-inch height advantage on her older sister.

Dora beamed hugging Emma tighter as she marched her up to the table. “Guess who’s all ready to do her very first bit of Hogwarts shopping?”

“Hey way to go, Emma,” Marcus said cheerfully.

Emma’s eyes went wide at being talked to directly and her face turned very pale. Harriet smiled warmly at her reassuringly.

“You’re going to have a great time today! Diagon Alley’s one of the coolest places ever, and you’ll get your wand!”

Emma blinked a few times and slowly nodded, without smiling.

“What house do you think you’re going to get?” Ginny asked.

“Dunno,” was all Emma managed to say.

Ronnie shot Harriet an awkward look. “Well let’s say we all go out shopping? We can get a lot of it done before the big crowds arrive!”

“Good thought,” Marcus agreed and they all got to their feet.

“Where to first?” Scott asked.

“Quality Quidditch Supplies,” Dora said, grinning ear to ear and giving Harriet a knowing look.

“Oh alright,” Hermione groaned.

“Awwww still not a Quidditch fan, Hermione?” Scott teased. “I’m shocked.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harriet smiled. It was good to see Scott coming a bit more out of his shell and joking more openly. She wondered if her spending the summer there had helped.

“Well, I know we have to stop by the pet shop at some point,” Ronnie said and she pulled Scabbers out of her hoodie. “Poor Scabbers hasn’t looked right since we got back from Egypt.”

There was no arguing with that. Scabbers was usually a bit woebegone, even by rat standards, but at the moment he looked completely miserable. His ears and whiskers were drooping and he was missing hair in a couple places.

Emma remained behind to do her shopping with Mr and Mrs Flamel. Mrs Weasley made them all promise to meet up at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour at noon. They agreed and began making their way as quickly as they could towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. It was only ten o’clock, and Harriet was surprised at the size of the crowd that was already gathered.

“Wonder what the occasion is?” Kieran asked.

Harriet and her friends managed to squeeze through the thick crowd to the front window of the shop. Once there, Harriet’s jaw fell open. On a podium in the shop’s front window was the most beautiful broom Harriet had ever seen. Its handle was so smooth and polished it looked to be made of wood coloured glass.

“Knew you’d want to see this,” Dora said in Harriet’s ear. “The Firebolt. Greatest racing broom ever made.”

Harriet found it hard to argue with Dora’s assessment. From just seeing the broom once, Harriet knew there was nothing in the world she wanted more.

Scot whistled looking at a placard. Harriet leaned forward and read too.

This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch-twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of nought to 150 miles per hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable Braking Charm. Price on request.


Harriet groaned reading the final sentence. Price on Request. She didn’t even want to think about how much the Firebolt must cost. Her parents had left her quite a pile of gold, but it wasn’t infinite in size, and Harriet had five more years at Hogwarts including this one to make it all last.

There was also the fact that even if her Nimbus Two-Thousand could not fly quite as fast as the Firebolt, it was still one of the best brooms in her school. She could compete with the Slytherin teams’ newer Nimbus Two-Thousand Ones, and she was sure that as wealthy as his family was, Draco Malfoy’s father was unlikely to spend quite that much on a Firebolt for him.

After ogling the Firebolt a little longer, they moved on to the Apothecary where they refilled all their Potions ingredients. From there it was Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. They had all grown so much every one of them needed new robes, though none more so than Scott, who had easily grown the most, now rivalling Ronnie for height.

“What say we get our books now?” Kieran suggested.

“Well, we still have a lot of shopping to do, do we really want to be lugging around books that whole time?” Dora asked.

“Well we could always take the books back to the Leaky Cauldron then go back to more fun shopping?” Hermione suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good thought,” Ronnie said and held out her arm as if brandishing a sword. “Okay, to Flourish and Blotts!”

“Now with less Lockhart than ever before!” Marcus said striking a similar pose.

Everyone laughed and they made their way through the swarms of people to the book shop. Half an hour later, they left with all their books in tow.

“I’ve… I’ve never seen a grown man cry like that before,” Dora muttered.

“Me neither,” Harriet agreed.

Upon reaching the shop, Harriet had immediately solved another of the mysteries she had been pondering that summer. It turned out that the snarling, snapping, biting book that Hagrid had sent her, telling her only that it would “come in useful” was the set book for Care of Magical Creatures, which Harriet and all her friends would be starting this year.

Apparently the shopkeepers couldn’t control the books either. As the group walked up to the cage full of fighting books, the assistant who was standing beside them took one look at the size of the group and burst into tears. His reward was being bitten eight times while trying to fetch six copies of the book. As they paid, every one of them told the assistant to keep the change for his troubles.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Marcus grunted as they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. “Just how many classes are you taking again?”

Hermione had bought so many books that the three boys all pitched in to help her carry them.

“Oh, a lot,” Hermione said vaguely.

“Noooooo you think?” Ronnie muttered in Harriet’s ear. Harriet giggled.

They deposited their shopping in their rooms and made their way to the Magical Menagerie. Hermione was also eyeing Eeylops Owl Emporium as they passed.

“You know, I really would like an owl of my own, finally,” she said rubbing her chin in thought. “Mum and Dad gave me some early birthday money in case I wanted to get one…”

“Well they sell them in the Menagerie too,” Ronnie said. “Come on.”

The Menagerie was one of the more crowded shops Harriet had ever been in. Not from people, but from the animals. It was almost deafeningly loud from all the squawking and screeching, and they found it nearly impossible to navigate the awkwardly stacked cages and tanks full of some of the most fanciful animals Harriet had ever seen. There were normal animals like owls and cats and toads and rats, but also more fantastic creatures such as a rabbit that could turn itself into a top-hat, and a tortoise with actual jewels in its shell. Even the otherwise normal animals seemed to be special. There was a cage of rats on the counter that looked like ordinary garden rats, except for the fact they were using each other’s tails as jump-ropes.

Harriet and the others looked around the shop while Ronnie stood in line, waiting for the witch working the counter to finish giving instructions to a customer on the care of double-ended newts. Harriet, Scott and Marcus picked out some owl treats for their owls while Hermione perused the shop’s selection of owls. Despite her earlier interest in an owl, none seemed to strike her fancy as she went back and forth, studying them all.

Finally, Ronnie made it to the counter. Harriet, Scott and Marcus got in line behind her.

“How may I help you?” the witch asked as Ronnie stepped up.

“It’s my rat, Scabbers, I think he’s really ill,” Ronnie replied, pulling Scabbers from her pocket and setting him on the counter. Scabbers flopped down pathetically. The rats who had been playing jump-rope stopped and scampered over to the side of the cage, looking at Scabbers with interest.

“Dear dear… he is a bit the worse for wear, isn’t he?” the witch asked, picking up Scabbers delicately, studying his hairless patches, his ragged left ear and front right paw, which had a missing toe.

“H-he… I know he’s old… but he always seemed so healthy all these years, but we just got back from Egypt and…”

Ronnie trailed off as emotion and concern washed over her. The witch grimaced looking from Ronnie to Scabbers. “Well, how old is the poor dear?” the witch asked.

“I-I dunno…” Ronnie said. “He first belonged to my brother, so at least twelve I think…”

The witch’s eyes went wide at this news. “And-er-what powers does he have?” she asked awkwardly.

“Uhhh…” Ronnie trailed off. Harriet knew what Ronnie was thinking: Scabbers had never shown a trace of being magical.

The witch sighed sympathetically. “Well… this… is hard to say dear but, a common rat such as Scabbers here usually only lives three years or so… and the fact he’s managed to live to be this old is incredible, but… I’m not sure what can really be done…”

The witch paused taking in Ronnie’s stricken face. “Well, I do have a rat tonic that might be useful, dear.”

The witch knelt behind the counter and rose with a small red bottle. Ronnie looked relieved at the prospect of the tonic. “Oh thanks,” Ronnie said smiling again. “How much will it be-AHH!”

At that moment, a large streak of orange fur leapt down onto the counter top from the tallest stack of cages. It hissed and spat and swiped at Scabbers.

“NO CROOKSHANKS! BAD CAT! BAD!” the witch cried and attempted to pull Scabbers out of harm’s way.

Scabbers however seemed to rouse himself from his near-death behaviour and sprang to life. He shot out of the witch’s hand and off the counter, too fast for either the witch, Ronnie, or the massive cat that had attacked him. He hit the floor and shot from the door too fast to be seen.

“SCABBERS!” Ronnie cried and tore out of the shop after him. Marcus and Harriet dropped their owl treats and tore out of the shop after her.

Even with three people searching it took almost fifteen minutes to find Scabbers. He was hiding under a waste-bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. By that point they were in danger of running late for their rendezvous at Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

“What on earth was that?” Ronnie asked, glaring back at the pet shop.

“I dunno,” Harriet said. “But it meant business.”

“Well let’s go get the rat tonic,” Ronnie grumbled. “See if I ever shop at that—”

Ronnie was cut off by the sight of Hermione, Scott, Kieran and Dora walking towards them. Hermione was beaming, but she was not holding an owl. Instead, she was carrying the enormous ginger cat. Dora was cooing over it while Kieran was looking incredulous and Scott was looking at the cat sceptically.

“You bought that thing?!” Ronnie asked, gaping.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Hermione asked, looking down at the cat reverently.

Harriet bit her lip. Now that it was simply purring contentedly in Hermione’s arms she began to appreciate the cat’s appearance. His fur was very thick and looked soft and cuddly. His face was flat in an almost human-like way, and its thick tail looked adorably like a bottle-brush.

“But, we share a dormitory!” Ronnie said. “How’s Scabbers supposed to get any rest and relaxation with that thing about?!”

“He’s not a thing!” Hermione snapped cuddling the cat tighter. “His name’s Crookshanks. The poor dear’s been in there for ages, no one’s wanted him.”

“I’m so shocked,” Ronnie grumbled, cuddling her hoodie pouch where Scabbers was hidden.

“Well,” Dora said thoughtfully, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. “If he’d be a problem in your dormitory…”

Hermione glowered pulling Crookshanks away possessively. “Of course he won’t be a problem, no you would never be a problem, would you Crookshanks?” she cooed.

Marcus and Ronnie both looked dumbstruck.

“Oh, here,” Dora said stepping towards Ronnie. She held out the bottle of rat tonic. “You forgot this, I got it for you, it was only a few knuts.”

“Oh, uh th-thanks, Dora,” Ronnie stammered, looking abashed.

“And you forgot your owl treats,” Kieran said holding the bag out to Harriet.

“Oh, thanks Kieran,” Harriet said reaching into her moneybag. “How much—”

“Oh forget it,” Kieran said waving a hand dismissively.

“But—?”

“I said it’s fine,” Kieran smiled. “They’re not that much, just a two-year present for Hedwig let’s say?”

Harriet blushed but smiled.

“We’ve, uh, we’ve gotta get back to Fortescues,” Scott said, looking at his watch.

They started back up the street, Hermione and Dora continuing to coo over Crookshanks while Ronnie kept giving the cat dirty looks and Scott gave it thoughtful ones. Harriet dropped back to talk to him.

“Why do you keep looking at Crookshanks like that?”

“That’s not a normal cat,” Scott muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too big,” Scott said. “And that fur… that cat’s part-kneazle or my name’s not Scott McIntyre.”

“Kneazle?” Harriet asked.

“Er, magical felines; very intelligent, almost dangerously so. Particularly, if you’re untrustworthy… lots of wizard families use them as sort of living sneakoscopes, they’re great at detecting secrecy and will actually attack those they deem threats.”

Harriet digested this information but didn’t get to discuss it further as they finally reached the ice cream parlour.

“There you all are,” Mrs McIntyre said. She and Mrs Weasley both looked equally worried.

“We’re five minutes from noon,” Ronnie protested, looking at her watch.

“No need to be snippy,” Mrs Weasley said, hands on her hips making Ronnie flush.

“Sorry, mum.”

Jess let out a booming laugh from nearby. They all turned to see her sitting at a table a little ways away. At first Harriet thought she was sitting by herself, but then realized she was talking to Florean Fortescue, with a distinct twinkle in her eye. Fortescue himself was looking rather flushed. Jess caught Harriet’s eye and gave her a tiny wink before she returned her attention to Fortescue.

Scott rolled his eyes, going red with embarrassment as Jess continued to flirt with Fortescue.

“Hey, she’s single, she deserves to have fun,” Harriet said. Jess had defended her several times from Scott’s teasing, it was only fair to defend her back.

“Does she have to be so public about it though?” he moaned miserably.

“Oi, Harriet, come on over here I’ll introduce you to the man himself,” Jess called. Harriet smiled and walked over.

“Goodness, nice to see you again, Miss Potter,” Fortescue said bowing and pulling out a chair for Harriet to sit.

Harriet sat. “How are you today, Mister Fortescue?” she asked politely.

“Oh fine, thank you,” Fortescue said. “Jess and I were just discussing some magical history.”

“Oh?” Harriet asked. She was immediately reminded of Professor Binns’ awful History of Magic lessons. Fortescue seemed like he would be much more interesting to learn magical history from.

“Yes, just—what the devil?”

Fortescue turned and looked towards the others. Harriet turned too and saw Hermione was fighting with Crookshanks. The cat had gotten out of her arms but had actually jumped up and grabbed hold of Hermione’s shirt, almost like a dog. He was tugging madly, pulling Hermione down the street.

“Crookshanks, no stop Crookshanks, let go! Let—”

Hermione did not get to finish her sentence. At that moment, the ground seemed to roll beneath their feet and it felt as though someone big and invisible had hit Harriet hard, knocking her off her chair. The table and chairs toppled over as well. There was a horrific boom that hurt Harriet’s ears and she clapped her hands down over them. All she could hear now was ringing. There was debris raining down all around her and she curled up, crying out in fear and pain.

She opened her eyes again, panic starting to well up in her mind. What had just happened? What was going on? Where was everyone? There were feet scrambling past her going in countless directions. Strong hands grabbed hold of Harriet’s arms and hauled her up. She was face to face with Fred Weasley. His eyes were wide with shock, and he had a burst vessel in his left eye, the white mostly red now. Harriet noted he was also bleeding from his ears. His lips were moving but Harriet couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything but the ringing. She tried to speak but she couldn’t hear herself either.

Before Harriet could do anything else, Fred knelt and hoisted her up over his shoulder. Harriet tried to protest but as she looked back from Fred’s shoulder her mouth fell open. Where there had once been a tall, grand-looking office building four places down across the street, there was now a smoking pile of rubble. The entire front of the offices had been destroyed. People were scrambling about, some running towards the wreckage to help, others running away in terror.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron. Fred passed through the magical doorway in the stone wall and into the pub itself before he finally set her down. He put his hands on her cheeks and looked at her from very close.

“Ha-r-r-r-riet-t-t-t-t c-c-c-can you h-h-hear me-e-e-e?” she vaguely heard Fred’s voice ask. It sounded as though he was inside a big coliseum, his voice echoing. Harriet glanced past him to see a small crowd of people being led into the pub from the street.

“Ye-yeah,” Harriet replied. She was starting to be able to hear herself too.

“Good. You alright? Not hurt anywhere?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Harriet replied. She was starting to panic again. What if she was hurt and she didn’t know it? Her breathing started to get faster and she began looking herself over frantically trying to find injuries.

Fred hugged her tight. “It’s okay Harriet, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he kept repeating over and over again.

“What happened?” Harriet asked, but Fred did not answer.

More adult wizards and witches were helping carry others into the pub. Everyone looked terrified and shocked. Tom came bustling up, looking around with wide, disbelieving eyes. Even from here inside the pub Harriet could see the cloud of smoke rising from the place where the tall office building used to be.

“Wha-what happened?” Tom asked and he hustled out of the pub to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“My God… the Prophet… someone blew up The Daily Prophet!” Harriet heard Tom cry out.

Harriet began looking around frantically for all her friends. Scott was with his parents, the Weasleys were altogether now except for Fred who was still holding Harriet. Ginny had her hands clamped over her ears still, rocking back and forth and screaming as Mr and Mrs Weasley tried to calm her down. Kieran was sitting with his own parents, wrapped in a blanket and clutching his shillelagh tightly, his eyes wide. Hermione was clutching Crookshanks in her arms while being tended to by Jess. Dora and Emma were cuddling each other and Mr and Mrs Flamel stood over them, their wands drawn. Marcus meanwhile was with his own father, both looking equally rattled.

A wave of relief washed over Harriet. Somehow, miraculously, they all looked safe. Harriet looked into the pub now. Many people were pushing forward, trying to see what was going on.

“The Prophet?”

“Never.”

“But what then?”

“An accident?”

“What accident could have caused an explosion like that?”

However, it wasn’t the onlookers that caught Harriet’s attention. It was one man in particular. He was still sitting at his table, sipping a cup of tea placidly. He set the tea-cup down and rose to his feet. He was tall and thin, wearing a pure-white suit. He had long, black hair tied into a ponytail and a matching white fedora under his arm. He turned and actually looked Harriet right in the eyes. His gaze was steely and cold even though his lips were curled into a smile. He put a finger to his lips and turned and strode casually from the pub as if nothing had happened at all.

Harriet felt her heart clench even tighter. She knew that gaze. It was the same gaze she had been fitted with by Tom Riddle. The man wasn’t Riddle, but there was no mistaking that look now. Harriet would never forget it. Once again, Harriet had just looked into the eyes of a murderer.

Chapter Text

When her hearing returned, everything became a blur for Harriet. She didn’t have time to process what was happening. The Leaky Cauldron was suddenly filled with Ministry employees from the department of Magical Law Enforcement, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and healers and medi-wizards from St Mungo’s Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries. In spite of it all, Harriet was impressed by how quickly and how well the Ministry responded, almost as if they were expecting something to happen. Then she reminded herself with Sirius Black on the loose, they probably were.

Within twenty minutes of their arrival, Aurors were questioning everyone if they had caught sight of Black in the area. Harriet wasn’t surprised by that. What she was surprised by was the reaction when she asked Mr Weasley about the man in white. Mr Weasley had looked horror struck and within five minutes Harriet found herself in a room with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Mr and Mrs McIntyre, the head of the Auror office, the Minister of Magic himself, and a short, portly woman in a hot pink cardigan who reminded Harriet forcibly of a toad.

Harriet had never seen the Head of the Auror Office before, a man named Rufus Scrimgeour, or the pink toad-woman. Harriet knew who Cornelius Fudge was, as she had been hiding in Hagrid’s hut when Fudge had arrived to arrest him for the petrification attacks on students. As Hagrid was innocent, this was still a very sore spot with Harriet.

Rufus Scrimgeour was one of the more formidable looking men Harriet had ever seen. He put her in mind of an old lion. His hair was thick like a mane and streaked with grey. He also wore wire-rimmed spectacles that often flashed opaque white in the light from the crackling fireplace as he paced the floor.

The woman had been introduced as Dolores Umbridge, the Minister’s Senior Undersecretary. Harriet supposed she seemed pleasant enough. She greeted everyone warmly with a girly laugh, which sounded forced to Harriet. At the moment she was sitting quietly in a corner, holding a clipboard with a piece of parchment and a quill. She was furiously writing down Harriet’s account of what she had seen and Fudge and Scrimgeour’s responses. Umbridge seemed so focused she did not notice the small, shiny blue beetle scurrying up her sleeve.

Compared to Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge looked even dumpier and a little feebler than Harriet remembered. She couldn’t help feeling that if she hadn’t known who either man was she would have guessed that Scrimgeour was the Minister instead of Fudge. Fudge was sitting in an arm-chair fiddling with his bowler hat and rubbing his shiny bald spot while Scrimgeour paced, deep in thought.

Fudge looked at Harriet. “You are certain that is the man you saw, Harriet?” he asked. By the sound of it, he was hoping that Harriet was not so certain.

“Yes, sir,” Harriet replied. “He had long black hair, a round face, light skin, clean shaven, and was wearing an all-white suit with a white hat. He… he just looked at me, went ‘shhh’ and left. He was smiling, like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

Scrimgeour continued to pace the room. “It could only be Kinney, Minister. And by his actions he was clearly involved.”

“Yes, I know that, Rufus, but what can we possibly do about it? The Prophet is going to be worse than ever, how could this have happened?”

“We underestimated him, Minister,” Scrimgeour said. It seemed as though they had forgotten the other people were in the room. “Howe warned us about what Kinney was capable of. Never dreamed he would dare try something so bombastic, er, pardon the expression, here in Britain. Against his direct enemy in the States is one thing but to carry out an attack like this in a foreign nation that has not even given formal support of his enemy?”

“He did it to send a message, that’s why he attacked the Prophet,” Fudge said, shrewdly. “Diagon Alley was full of families with children today. He could have gone after them, but he chose the Daily Prophet. The Prophet is going to want to know what happened, and when they find out I could have saved all those lives by simply turning over a few children who aren’t even from here,” he sighed.

“They would rather you turned over innocent children and give into a madman?” Mr McIntyre asked. Fudge and Scrimgeour both jumped and turned to look at Mr McIntyre. Harriet on the other hand was surprised by the way Fudge and Scrimgeour looked at him with rapt attention.

“This…” Fudge sighed and put a hand on his face. “Of course I wouldn’t, Dorian. I knew Kinney was dangerous, I had been warned. But I wasn’t going to let this man walk in and take over the place, and I was certainly not going to turn over innocent children into his hands. But you know the Prophet as well as anyone. They love a scandal and now I’ve got blood on my hands! Their blood!”

Fudge rubbed his forehead. Harriet could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. He glanced at Harriet and his eyes widened and a look of relief came over his face, as though he had just been struck with a brilliant idea.

There was a knock on the door. Fudge nodded to Ms Umbridge, who got up and answered the door. Another Auror was there, looking grave and holding out an envelope. This Auror was very tall and black, with a bald-head and a fang earring.

“Ah, Kingsley, come in. Any new information?”

“Yes, Minister,” Kingsley said. He nodded politely to Harriet and the others before turning back to Fudge. “We have found a note, Minister, and the analysis is in on the explosives used.”

Fudge grimaced and Scrimgeour crossed to Kingsley. “Well done, Shacklebolt. Let me see.”

“Minister, would you mind terribly if we got Harriet to bed? She’s told you all she knows about what she saw and I don’t think we’re strictly relevant to the conversation anymore,” Mr McIntyre said putting a hand on Harriet’s shoulder.

“Oh, yes,” Fudge said smiling kindly at Harriet. “Thank you, my dear, for this information. You have done a great service, and it’s good to know that at least one person in all of this was paying proper attention.”

Harriet flushed. Mr McIntyre nodded and put a hand under Harriet’s arm, gently lifting her to her feet. The Weasleys rose too. Fudge and Scrimgeour began talking again as they were leaving but Harriet was too distracted to hear what they were saying.

Mrs Weasley guided Harriet towards her room. It was only three in the afternoon, so Harriet wasn’t sure exactly why she was going to bed. However, as she got closer and closer to the room she felt more tired. Maybe it would be good to just lie down for a little while; get washed up, get into pyjamas and lie in bed with her eyes closed. That sounded wonderful.

She closed her window, shutting out the sounds coming from the street. She was just climbing into bed when Ronnie came in. “Ginny’s gonna be okay, the healers managed to get her hearing back,” Ronnie said miserably.

“How’s Fred?” Harriet asked. She would never forget the sight of his stricken face, one blood-red eye and bleeding ears.

“He’s okay too. His eye will be red for a while but his ears are fine.”

“Good,” Harriet replied, pulling her covers up to her chin. She felt the weight of the day melting off her shoulders as she lay down.

Ronnie changed too before closing the curtains. The room became almost as dark as if it were night-time. Harriet curled up on her side, grabbing one of the extra pillows and hugging it tightly to her chest.

She could hear Ronnie tossing and turning as she tried to fall asleep. After what felt like an hour, she heard Ronnie slide out of bed and pad over to her. “Harriet?”

“Yeah?”

“Can…”

“Yeah,” Harriet said immediately and pulled back her covers.

Ronnie climbed in and cuddled up against Harriet. Harriet smiled remembering the times during her first year when she was having nightmares and Ronnie had comforted her. Harriet pulled the covers back over them. After another ten minutes, the door to their room opened and Ginny snuck in too. Harriet smiled making more room and finally fell asleep.

When Harriet awoke the following morning, she did not want to believe the previous day had happened. But it had. She was sure of it because there was no other reason she would find herself cuddling with not just Ronnie and Ginny, but Hermione, Dora, and Emma as well. She remembered when Hermione had come in, but not the other two.

The girls slowly got out of bed and all but Ronnie went back to their rooms to get cleaned-up and dressed. Harriet combed her hair and sat on her bed, just staring at her trunk as if willing it to fly open and give her some clothes to wear. Somehow, in light of everything that happened the day before, Harriet wanted to feel special and pretty. She pulled out her dinner party outfit and put it on. However, instead of the original hair scarf she put on the one she had got from Kieran.

Ronnie got dressed as well, but opted for a simple t-shirt, and jeans. She put on a hoodie, stuffing the miserable looking Scabbers in the pouch. They made their way downstairs to the dining room. Harriet kept running over the previous day in her head. It had all been so peaceful and fun and it all changed with an ear-splitting explosion that shook the ground and levelled half of a five story office building.

The quiet in the dining room was almost deafening after yesterday. There seemed to be no one in the pub except for the Weasleys, the McIntyres, the O’Briens, the Van De Lakks, the Flamels, Jess, Hermione and Harriet (and the Aurors who were stationed at the doors, their wands in their hands).

Dora was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh that’s so cute,” Dora said admiring Harriet’s outfit as she and Ronnie reached the landing.

“Oh, thanks, Dora,” Harriet replied. “Just felt like looking… nice… today…” she mumbled.

Dora smiled and bumped Harriet’s shoulder. “Oh come on, Harriet, you always look nice.”

Harriet flushed. “Th-thanks,” she stammered and smiled a little in spite of herself.

“Since when are you so cheery and nice?” Ronnie grumbled. She sounded half-asleep.

Dora scowled. “Well she did at least put a little effort into her appearance instead of looking like she just got done gardening,” she spat.

Ronnie laughed. “That sounds like the snotty blondie we know and love.”

Dora rolled her eyes and they made their way past one of the parlours. The adults were all inside, gathered around a table. They were all arguing amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe Fudge thought he could get away with trying to pin this on Black when he knew perfectly well there were witnesses who saw Kinney. Harriet couldn’t possibly have been the only person to see him.”

“But how could Skeeter have overheard? Some of the things in that article… “This very credible eye witness described Kinney perfectly and said he looked at her and told her to ‘shhh’ before leaving the Leaky Cauldron.” How could Skeeter have known that? Harriet didn’t tell anyone else that information!”

Harriet flushed, making her way to the sitting room, not wanting the adults to know she had overheard them talking. Despite her usual thirst for any and all information, after last night, Harriet was feeling a bit less like snooping and prying into other people’s affairs. At the moment, all she really felt like doing was being happy to be alive.

That was the main thought that had struck Harriet in the middle of the night sometime between when Hermione came in and Dora and Emma apparently joined them: how close she had come to dying yesterday. And it hadn’t been because of some plot by Voldemort’s, or even Sirius Black’s. It had simply been being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It struck her in a way it never had before.

They all sat down in the soft arm chairs. Kieran, Scott, Marcus and Emma were already in the room. Emma was sitting off by herself.

Kieran smiled warmly. “Hey you lot,” he said in greeting and took in Harriet’s outfit. “Wow, you look great, oh, is that the scarf I got you?”

“Yeah, it is,” Harriet replied, smiling.

Dora shot a cryptic look at Kieran but he did not seem to notice. Instead he glanced at Scott who smiled. Harriet shook her head. She was too rattled and had too much on her mind to worry about what was going on.

Hermione came in, her face stuck deep into a copy of the Daily Prophet. “You’ve got to hand it to them, their main office gets bombed and they still manage to print an edition the next day, full of, well, uncomfortably accurate information.”

“Yeah, so we’ve heard,” Scott muttered, jerking his head towards the door where the adults were still arguing.

Hermione set the paper down on the coffee table and Scott picked it up. He read it and gave a snort of disgust before passing it off to Kieran. Kieran responded the same way and handed it off to Harriet.


BLACK STRIKES AGAIN!
According to reports from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; the horrific bombing yesterday, which took the lives of thirty one members of the Daily Prophet staff as well as a family of four who were passing in front of the Daily Prophet offices at the time of the bombing, was perpetrated by none other than Sirius Black.


Harriet gasped clamping a hand over her mouth. She felt sick to her stomach. Coupled with her realization over how close she had come to dying by mere chance, she now knew just how many people had been killed without having any idea it was coming. Even a family of four had been killed. She felt a twinge of fear. What if one of the children killed was one of their schoolmates? How could she find out?

Another twinge of shock shot through Harriet’s system. It had been Kinney, the man in the white suit, who had done it. He had killed all those people. And he had looked right at her, and smiled. He had been happy he had done it.

And yet, here in the article, they said it had been Sirius Black. Apparently the Ministry had told them that, but why? Cornelius Fudge knew that it had been Kinney, Harriet had told him so. Then she remembered the way Fudge had looked at her. Had that been what was going through Fudge’s mind? He wanted to blame it on Black so the Prophet wouldn’t report on Fudge not apprehending another mass-murderer on the loose?

But if that was the case, what had the adults been talking about? Harriet flipped to the other half of the front page.


Black not to Blame?
Contrary to contemporary reports, yesterday’s vile, unmitigated attack on the Ministry of Magic offices (which nearly took the life of your dear author as well incidentally) which took the lives of many good, decent, hard-working Daily Prophet employees, was not the work of escaped mass-murderer, Sirius Black. No, instead, this heinous crime was carried out by someone entirely unknown to the wider magical population of Britain.

I, Rita Skeeter, can report exclusively that the murderous assault on innocent lives yesterday was carried out by an American by the name of Solomon Kinney. Never heard of him? Of course you haven’t. The Ministry saw to that. Apparently Mister Kinney was sent as an envoy from one of the seceding states in America to ‘fetch’ some of the refugee students. Through a spy network, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, was informed of this and intervened.

This is where the praise for the Minister’s actions ends. For you see, Fudge had been made aware of just how dangerous this individual was, and how his aim was not to reclaim misplaced children, but to kidnap them or worse in an attempt to silence their families who have been speaking out against the war. Fudge naturally refused Kinney and ordered him sent away. But in the process, Kinney clearly escaped.

Now I know, you may say ‘well if Fudge refused him and saved children’s lives, why stop the praise?’ Well it may have done the wider wizarding population of Britain some good to have been made aware of a killer, possibly even more dangerous than Sirius Black being on the loose? Because Solomon Kinney’s death toll does not begin with the bombing of The Daily Prophet.

No, it also happens to include another bombing that took place exactly one year ago today in America. Solomon Kinney was also responsible for the Merlin Stadium Bombing that killed no less than three hundred people by the time the rubble was cleared. And in that incident it was mostly Muggles who were killed. For Solomon Kinney is the devious striking arm of the lawless American Secessionist movement. And now he is running rampant in Britain, waiting to strike again.

Continued Page 2.


Harriet turned the page.


Continued from Page 1.

The truth of Kinney’s involvement was verified shortly after the bombing itself, when an eye-witness spotted Kinney in the Leaky Cauldron within minutes of the attack. This very credible eye witness described Kinney perfectly and said he looked at her and told her to ‘shhh’ before leaving the Leaky Cauldron.

Frankly, this is inexcusable. Fudge should have never taken these refugees, these outsiders, on in the first place. And he should send them right back where they came from. We don’t need America’s troubles here in Britain. Good riddance to bad rubbish! If only he had seen such sense before yesterday’s senseless violence.


Harriet’s stomach churned. She did not know who to be madder at; Fudge for lying or this Skeeter woman for calling her friends ‘bad rubbish’ and suggesting they be sent back to a warzone. She put down the paper and Dora picked it up to read.

Harriet didn’t know how to feel anymore. The only thing she knew was she wanted to get on the Hogwarts Express now more than ever. She wanted to get as far away from here as possible, to the only place she truly felt at home. She wanted to see the big castle and feel safe knowing nothing could get to her in there, not with Professor Dumbledore to protect them.

There was a quiet knock on the door to the sitting room and everyone turned. Jess was looking around at them all sympathetically. “Alright loves, time tah go. The Ministry will be escorting us all to the station in cars.”

No one spoke as they got to their feet and followed Jess from the room. Harriet watched Ministry wizards carrying their trunks, owl cages, and one wicker basket containing the hissing, spitting Crookshanks, down the stairs for them and out the front door of the pub. There was a line of cars waiting, all with little flags marked “MoM” on the bonnets. Harriet was surprised, and so was everyone else, when the tall black Auror named Kingsley diverted Harriet from getting into the same car as her friends and instead to a car at the front of the line.

He opened the door for her and gave her a reassuring nod. Harriet climbed inside and was surprised to find Cornelius Fudge and his senior undersecretary again. The door closed and Fudge smiled down at her.

“Well, Harriet, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted a little further word with you in private, and thought this the most discrete way for all involved to do so,” Fudge said pleasantly as the driver started the car.

“O-okay,” Harriet said nervously. She was suddenly worried Fudge might think she had talked to that Skeeter woman.

“Well Harriet, I wanted to talk to you about this past summer,” Fudge went on. “More specifically, about the night of the unfortunate incident with your Aunt.”

Harriet grimaced. She didn’t want to talk about that at all.

“I must say, Harriet, in light of the dangerous climate we’re in, that I’m slightly disappointed that you chose to run off with two men you barely knew, rather than staying and waiting for official members of the Ministry of Magic to arrive and straighten the situation out,” Fudge said.

Harriet flushed. “I… well… I didn’t have a choice, sir… I was in shock from what had happened and then when the real Ministry wizards showed up Professor Howe grabbed my hand and we all just, ran…”

Fudge looked down at Harriet, his expression a calculating one. “Hmmm… Harriet, how many times have you met with Professor Sherrod Howe?”

Harriet thought. “Only… only once before, sir. The night Justin and Nearly-Headless Nick got petrified.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll find this hard to believe, Harriet, as I know he has a certain level of charisma and charm, but I would advise you in the strongest possible terms not to trust Sherrod Howe.”

“Sir?”

“Sherrod often has his own agenda, and rarely does anything without having some personal reason. I might add that not even Professor Dumbledore trusts Sherrod Howe completely. Dumbledore was not happy that you were removed from your Aunt and Uncle’s house either, you know?”

“Yeah, I-I did know,” Harriet muttered.

She was suddenly starting to feel angry. Harriet knew one thing: Professor Howe had not lied to her. In fact, he had tried to tell her so much it made other people angry. Yet here was Fudge who had lied to not just Harriet, but the entire country. Not to mention he had arrested Hagrid, knowing Hagrid was probably innocent.

“Ah, yes, well, all I wanted to say, really. Just be cautious any time you are in contact with Sherrod Howe,” Fudge said.

“Says you,” muttered Harriet before she could stop herself.

“What was that?” Dolores Umbridge snapped while Fudge looked taken aback. Harriet noted that the girlish simper was gone from Umbridge’s voice and she went from looking like a toad to a full-on bullfrog.

Harriet crossed her arms. “At least he didn’t lie to everyone about what was going on with Kinney.”

Fudge looked very uncomfortable. He fiddled with his bowler hat again. “That was… unfortunate,” he said. “But it was necessary. We had expected Kinney to be removed from the country and it was almost a month before we figured out the Auror who was escorting him had been confounded so as to not remember Kinney escaping. By that point we had no idea where Kinney was or what he was truly capable of. I take it you read Miss Skeeter’s take on the matter? Well, she only got it part right. It is still only rumoured that Kinney was behind the Merlin Stadium Bombing, not confirmed.”

Fudge heaved a sigh. “And then I came up with the Black cover-story to continue to protect the refugees. I knew that revelation would breed more resentment towards them. The less people are aware of them, the safer they are. But, can’t keep anything from the press, I suppose.”

Harriet blinked. She had not expected Fudge to be that forthcoming, especially after Professor Howe had warned Harriet that Fudge and Dumbledore wanted to keep her in the dark. It was also not at all what Harriet had expected Fudge to say. Now she had no idea what to think of him. Fortunately, the awkward situation was diffused when the cars finally arrived at King’s Cross. Harriet got out without a look back at either Fudge or Umbridge and stomped irritably back to her friends.

“What’s eating you?” Ronnie asked.

“Later,” Harriet muttered as an Auror brought up a trolley to put their luggage on.

They loaded up their trunks and made their way as a group into King’s Cross Station. Harriet felt as though she was on auto-pilot as the Aurors smoothly funnelled the families through the hidden barrier to Platform 9 ¾. Before Harriet even realized it, she was pulling her trunk up onto one of the cars of the Hogwarts Express and putting it into a compartment with her friends.

They made their way back onto the platform to say their goodbyes. Harriet flushed but was rather pleased that she got plenty of extra hugs from all the parents. The whistle sounded, they climbed back aboard and the train pulled forward.

As the Hogwarts Express sped away, Harriet felt the weight beginning to slide off her shoulders. She was going back to Hogwarts. Back to Quidditch, and classes, and the Great Hall, the Gryffindor Common Room and her soft four poster bed.

They made their way back to their compartment. As they did, Ronnie brought up another subject that made Harriet feel even better: Hogsmeade. “It’ll be so great to get out of the castle and grounds, won’t it?” she asked as they reached their compartment and Marcus opened the door.

“Definitely,” Harriet agreed. Hermione stepped into the compartment and they began filing in behind her. However, Hermione stopped, causing a domino effect of the others bumping into each other.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, rubbing her nose where she had bumped it into Marcus’s back.

“There’s someone else in here,” Hermione whispered.

Harriet wondered why she was whispering but as the others moved inside, she found out. There was indeed a man sitting in a corner leaned up against the window. He looked to be sound asleep, breathing deeply.

By his face, Harriet would have guessed him to be in his thirties, but his hair had turned almost entirely grey. His robes were shabby and patched, and the soles were starting to come off his shoes.

“Where did he come from?” Scott asked. “He wasn’t in here when we put our trunks in.”

“Hey Ginny!” called a voice from down the corridor.

Ginny beamed and waved enthusiastically at two of her fellow second-years, Minako Minagawa and Minami Takamiya. She grabbed Emma’s hand and began pulling her enthusiastically down the corridor.

“Come on, Emma! I’ll introduce you to my friends!”

“But-but—!” Emma protested but to no avail as Ginny hauled her off.

Dora laughed. “And she’s off… I knew school would do her a lot of good.”

They sat, the four girls on one side, while the boys sat next to the sleeping man.

“Who do you think he is?” Harriet asked. Despite having no idea who the man was, she couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about him.

“Well, it says Professor R. J. Lupin on his case,” Hermione said, pointing at the luggage rack over Professor Lupin’s head. Harriet looked and saw the case there, which looked just as shabby as its owner.

“Think he’s the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Scott asked.

“Must be,” Hermione said. “That’s the only vacancy I can think of.”

“Well, there is Muggle Studies,” Scott replied. “Miss Burbage left.”

“She did?” Hermione asked sounding disappointed. “I was looking forward to studying under her. I heard a lot of good things about her last spring.”

“Well she runs the Department of Misplaced Youths at the Ministry. Essentially she liaises with the Muggle families of the American students and tries to protect them from people like Kinney,” Scott explained.

“Well, okay that is a much loftier position then,” Hermione said.

There was a hissing and spitting from the luggage rack above them and Hermione got up, opening Crookshanks basket. To everyone’s surprise, Crookshanks leapt not onto any of their laps, but rather in the gap between Marcus and Professor Lupin, where he curled up and purred.

“Well, Crookshanks seems to be a fan of Professor Lupin, anyway,” Scott muttered.

Crookshanks continued to purr, but Harriet couldn’t help but notice that his bright, yellow eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the pocket of Ronnie’s hoodie which contained the trembling Scabbers.

“You know,” Dora said thoughtfully. “I was thinking about those articles this morning… we know Black didn’t do it, but, for all the stories about him he has been rather quiet since his escape, hasn’t he? No sightings, nothing. He just disappeared.”

“That’s—that’s a good point,” Hermione said. “There hasn’t been any news about him at all, outside descriptions.”

“It’s like they’re in a total panic over Black but they really did ignore Kinney altogether,” Kieran added. “That is a little strange.”

At that moment, a very faint whistling noise could be heard. They looked around when Ronnie pointed above Harriet’s head. “It’s coming from your trunk.”

Harriet got up and opened her trunk. It was her Pocket Sneakoscope that she had placed inside a pair of Aunt Petunia’s old pantyhose for safe-keeping.

“Oo, is that a Sneakoscope?” Hermione asked. “Where did you get it?”

“I gave it to her for her birthday,” Ronnie said. “It’s a really cheap one, mind. It kept lighting up and spinning at random times. Like when I was trying to tie it to Errol’s leg to send to Harriet. Destroyed the first box I had it in, had to repackage it.”

“Hmmm,” Hermione hummed shrewdly. “Errol’s a really old owl, yes?”

“Well, yeah,” Ronnie said bemused.

“Were you supposed to be using him to send a package to Harriet?”

“Well, no,” Ronnie admitted. “But how else was I supposed to get Harriet her present?!”

Marcus laughed. “Either way, sounds like we identified the culprit!”

Ronnie rolled her eyes and kicked his foot.

“Though, if it does work, who’s being untrustworthy?” Kieran asked.

Everyone looked around. Scott got up and flung the door to the compartment open. “No one there,” he said sitting back down.

All eyes turned back to Professor Lupin, but if Lupin was still only pretending to sleep, he was very good at it. He barely moved except for the steady, slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Marcus even poked him very gently on the shoulder but he did not show any sign of noticing.

“Well, maybe it is a little faulty then,” Hermione admitted.

Dora shrugged. “Who knows, anyway, it is weird isn’t it? I mean, they’re in such an uproar over Black that they’ve stationed Dementors around the Hogwarts grounds,” Dora added.

“Dementors?” Harriet asked. She felt a chill run down her spine at the word. She had only ever heard rumours about the nature of Dementors, and she did not like them one bit.

“Yeah, I remember Dad complaining about it this summer. He didn’t want them there anymore than Dumbledore did,” Dora explained.

“Heh, sounds like he and Dumbledore have a good bit of sense about them then,” Marcus muttered, idly scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. The cat’s gaze did not waiver from the hidden Scabbers.

“Well, at least Dad and Dumbledore convinced the Ministry not to let the Dementors into the grounds, could you imagine trying to get through lessons or just living with those things sucking all the happiness out of you all the time?” Dora asked scoffing. “I mean it’s bad enough I’m in Slytherin but come on!”

“Bad enough you’re in Slytherin?” Ronnie asked raising an eyebrow.

Dora rolled her eyes. “I just mean they’re not the cheeriest lot.”

“Suuuuuure,” Ronnie teased.

They passed more time talking about their new elective classes and trips into Hogsmeade. Harriet was excited to see the inside of Dusk to Dawn, the large Muggle clothing store where they had bought Ronnie her first football gear. The chance to buy her own brand new clothes that would fit her from the start was too good to pass up.

Hermione rattled on about the historical sites in Hogsmeade she wanted to see, while Ronnie fantasized over how much she wanted to get into Honeydukes, the wizarding sweets shop. The talk of Honeydukes made Harriet so hungry she almost jumped to her feet when the witch with the food trolley knocked on their door.

They attempted to rouse Professor Lupin but he still did not move. The witch told them she would be up front with the driver should Professor Lupin awake and want food. The group sat with their purchases and studied the sleeping man again.

“He didn’t… like… die, did he?” Ronnie asked.

“No… he’s still breathing,” Marcus muttered looking closer at Professor Lupin.

A couple hours later it began to rain. The door to the compartment slid open and three people stepped in. Harriet had expected it to be Draco Malfoy and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, but she was surprised (and not pleasantly) to see that it was instead her other three least favourite Slytherins; Pansy Parkinson, Pixie Fanfarró, and Wendy Aarons.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Pansy said. She looked as much like a pug as ever as she smirked around at them all.

“Well ‘ladies’ isn’t quite the word I would use,” Pixie said taking in Ronnie’s hoodie and jeans. Behind them, Wendy laughed sycophantically. “And Potter what on earth are you wearing?”

“Better than what you’re wearing,” Dora snapped. “Didn’t the whole big pearl necklace and bangles thing go out of style two years ago?”

Pixie glowered but Pansy ignored her, still focusing on Harriet. “You go to a school that requires you to wear them but you willingly chose to wear knee-highs? How are you not sick of them?” Pansy taunted.

Harriet flushed but Pixie started back in. “And that scarf, you seriously think that’s gonna fool people that you don’t have that stupid scar?”

Ronnie, Dora and Scott all made to get to their feet but to Harriet’s surprise it was Kieran who got up first, using his shillelagh to pull himself up rapidly.

“Ooooo tough guy,” Pansy smirked not backing down. She glanced from Kieran to the scarf and back. “Awwww, I get it. You bought that for pwetty widdle Potter, didn’t you? Dat’s sho shweet… Made shuwe it matched her pwetty gween eyes?” she said, speaking in a sing-songy, baby-ish voice. Kieran scowled but his face went white and he gripped his shillelagh tighter.

“Did you send her one of those wovy-dovy poems wast Vawentine’s Day too?” Pixie smirked, adopting the same voice. Wendy laughed even harder.

Professor Lupin snorted. Pansy, Pixie and Wendy froze.

“Who’s that?” Pansy asked.

“New teacher,” Ronnie growled, now on her feet too. “Shove off.”

Pansy and Pixie glared before turning their noses up in the air and strutting from the compartment in a huff, Wendy following in their wake.

“What cows,” Hermione spat.

Kieran sat, determinedly not meeting anyone’s eyes, staring at his feet.

“So sick of those two,” Dora growled. “How insecure do you have to be to go looking for someone to make feel bad?”

Harriet didn’t say anything. She was looking down at her lap, strongly contemplating taking out some plainer clothes and changing in one of the rest rooms on the train. Dora bumped her shoulder.

“Oh stop it, you look fabulous and you know it,” Dora said. “Just watch, give it a year or two and everyone’ll be wearing them.”

Harriet managed a little smile.

* * * *

A few hours later, Harriet was sure they must be nearing Hogwarts. The storm outside had grown worse howling and rattling the window. Despite sleeping right against the window, Professor Lupin still showed no sign of waking.

The lights were lit in the corridor, and students had stopped running past. It was starting to feel unnaturally cold. Harriet shivered and hugged her light cardigan tighter around her. The three boys all looked at each other and rose getting into their trunks. Marcus and Scott both pulled out jumpers while Kieran took out a hoodie of his own. The boys all turned and handed them over to Dora, Hermione, and Harriet respectively.

Harriet flushed and put on the hoodie. It didn’t exactly match, but it was warm. Harriet stuck her hands in the pouch but at that very moment, the train began to slow down.

“That’s strange,” Scott said looking out the window. “We can’t be there yet.”

“Then why are we stopping?” Dora asked. “Think we’ve broken down?”

“Maybe?” Kieran muttered. He got up and looked out the compartment door. At that moment, all the lights inside the car went out, plunging them into total darkness.

“What the—” Marcus muttered then yelped in pain. “That was my foot!”

“Sorry,” Scott said.

The door to the compartment opened.

“Does anyone know what’s going on?” came the voice of Neville Longbottom.

“Hey, Neville,” Harriet said. “No clue. Here sit—OW!”

Neville tripped over her legs.

“Sorry,” Neville muttered trying to get up to his feet. There was a hiss and Neville now shouted in pain. Apparently he had tried to sit on Crookshanks. There was a snort of a much deeper voice. Apparently Professor Lupin had woken up.

“What’s going on?” Harriet heard him ask. His voice was hoarse and gruff, yet there was gentleness to his tone.

“Uh, the train stopped and the lights went out,” Ronnie said.’

“No, you think?” Dora muttered.

“I’m going to speak to the driver,” Professor Lupin said.

There was a crackling sound and Harriet blinked as a bright blue light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin was holding the same blue flames that Hermione knew how to conjure in his bare hand. Marcus, who was fond of flame spells, watched in awe.

Harriet however was looking at Professor Lupin’s face. Again she could not help the feeling that there was something very familiar about him. His face looked even more lined and prematurely aged in the light from the flames, but his eyes were bright and alert.

Professor Lupin got to his feet and made his way to the door. He opened the door but grunted and took a step backwards. There were two squeals of surprise followed by two thump noises. In the light from Professor Lupin’s flames, Harriet could see Ginny and Emma past him, sitting on the floor. Apparently they had run into him.

“Uh h-hello,” Ginny said looking up at Professor Lupin with wide eyes. Professor Lupin smiled and held out a hand. Emma and Ginny both took hold of his hand and he pulled them up to their feet.

“Get into the compartment girls, there’s something going on and I need you to get into the compartment and close the door,” Professor Lupin said. The students nodded as Emma and Ginny sat in Professor Lupin’s vacated seat.

He gave them all a reassuring smile and turned to leave the compartment. However, his path was blocked yet again. This time, it was by a towering, hooded and cloaked figure. Its robes were jet black, so black it seemed to suck all light into it. Harriet looked down and felt her insides clench.

There was a hand sticking out of its sleeve. The most horrible hand Harriet had ever seen. It looked rotted, covered in scabs and open, puss-seeping sores. The skin that wasn’t covered in sores and scabs was grey and shiny, as if covered in slime. The hand vanished up into the sleeve and Harriet heard the newcomer take a deep, slow, rattling breath. It sounded the way Harriet imagined a dying person would sound, taking his last breaths.

The moment it began breathing, all heat was sucked from the room. Harriet instantly felt chilled to the bone despite wearing the hoodie. The cold started sapping her of energy and she felt light-headed. Her eyes lost focus and she lost her sense of balance. She felt like she was sinking in a deep pool.

In the distance, Harriet could hear something. It was high-pitched and growing louder. Harriet suddenly became aware that it was a scream. Someone, a woman by the sound of it, was screaming and pleading at the top of her lungs. Harriet wanted to help, but she felt so helpless herself, lost, doomed to be unhappy forever.

“Harriet!”

Harriet started. She opened her eyes and saw little spots of yellow light floating above her as well as black shapes. They looked hooded. It was more of the cloaked figure in the doorway. Harriet struggled trying to get away but she felt soft hands holding her. They were definitely not the scaly, scabbed hands of the cloaked figure.

“Harriet, wake up!”

Harriet gave her head a shake and finally came to her senses. She was lying on her back on one of the seats. Everyone was leaning down over her. The lights were back on and she felt like she was moving, which meant the train had started once more. Harriet looked around.

Scott was sitting with an arm around Hermione who was shivering. Ronnie was holding Ginny who looked as though she had been drained by Riddle’s diary again. Dora was holding Emma while Marcus was sitting huddled up in the corner that Professor Lupin had been sleeping in. His eyes were wide and staring straight ahead. He looked almost dead. Neville and Professor Lupin were watching her and Harriet realized that by the angle, Kieran was directly above her. More than that, the pillow under her head could only be his lap.

Harriet tried to sit up quickly but her head swam once more and, embarrassing or not, she realized it was much, much easier to just lie down.

“Are you alright?” Kieran asked.

“Y-yeah,” Harriet muttered. “I think so… what happened… wh-where was the screaming coming from…?”

“Uh, what screaming?” Ronnie asked.

Harriet started when she heard a loud snapping sound. Professor Lupin had gotten into his trunk and had taken out a large chocolate bar and was breaking it into pieces. He began handing the broken pieces out to everyone.

“Here, eat this chocolate, all of you,” he said. “It’s the best thing to fight off the aftereffects.”

“Aftereffects of what?” Dora asked, shivering. “What was that thing?”

“That was a Dementor,” Professor Lupin said. “Chocolate adds sugar to your system and builds endorphins in your brain, fighting off the effect the Dementors have. All of you eat the pieces I gave you while I go and speak to the driver.”

Without another word, Professor Lupin strode out of the compartment and turned down the corridor. Everyone looked at Harriet again, except for Marcus who still seemed to be vacant. Feeling awkward, Harriet slowly tried to sit up again. Kieran helped lift her up and she took a bite of the chocolate. Professor Lupin had been right. Harriet felt warmth moving through her whole body.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione asked.

“I… what happened?” Harriet asked. “I just remember the Dementor coming in and then… nothing.”

“Well, yeah, it-it came in and… first it just looked around, and then it started breathing these horrible breaths and you just, fell over on the seat,” Dora explained, rocking Emma a little. Had Harriet been in better spirits, she probably would have found the image of little Dora cuddling her five inch taller younger sister slightly comical.

“I thought you were having a seizure or something,” Ronnie said.

“And then Professor Lupin drew his wand and pointed it at the Dementor. He said ‘You can sense Sirius Black is not here, now go!’ But the Dementor didn’t leave, so he shot a Patronus at it and the Dementor left.”

“He shot a what at it?” Harriet asked.

“A Patronus,” Scott said. “It’s a special charm to ward off Dementors.”

“It was bright, blinding silver light and I saw something move, it looked like an animal or something but I was too blinded to tell, and the Dementor left,” Hermione explained.

Harriet shivered and clutched Kieran’s hoodie tighter around herself. The chocolate had not got rid of all the after effects yet it seemed.

“Didn’t… didn’t anyone else pass out?” Harriet asked. She was starting to feel a little ashamed.

“N-no…” Ronnie said. “Ginny’s shaking like mad though and… I don’t know what’s up with Marcus.”

She let go of Ginny and moved over to the other seat. She put a hand on Marcus shoulder and he seemed to relax a little.

“Are you alright?” She asked holding up the piece of chocolate that Professor Lupin had set on the seat next to him.

Marcus slowly turned his head and looked at her. It was almost eerie, as if he were possessed. He took the chocolate and stuck it in his mouth, turning and looking out the window without saying a word. Ronnie bit her lip nervously but still rested a hand on his shoulder.

Professor Lupin came back in. He smiled to see them all eating their chocolate. “Good, is it working?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone replied. Marcus only nodded.

“Good. We’ll be there in ten minutes. Are you okay, Harriet?”

“Yes, sir,” Harriet repeated.

Professor Lupin smiled and left the compartment once more. No one spoke as the train continued on, rattling and swaying, to its final destination of Hogsmeade Station.

Chapter Text

None of the group had said a word by the time the Hogwarts Express chugged to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. As the train stopped, everyone pulled their robes from their trunks and put them on. The first to speak was Hermione, who broke the silence as she attempted to coax an irritated Crookshanks back into his wicker basket.

They left the compartment and exited the train. The rain had finally abated, and Harriet caught sight of the first comforting reminder that she really was back at Hogwarts: the massive form of Rubeus Hagrid.

Hagrid was beaming down at her, his beetle-black eyes glinting over his bushy, tangled beard. “Alright you lot?” He asked cheerily clapping Marcus on the back and nearly toppling him. “Oh, sorry,” he said quickly, picking Marcus up by the back of his robes.

“Eh, it’s alright,” Marcus said in an ever suffering tone. This familiar incident seemed to cheer Marcus, as he smiled for the first time since the Dementor had entered the carriage.

“FIRS’ YEARS ‘IS WAY!” Hagrid called out.

Dora prodded Emma forward. Emma glanced back at her, whimpering. Emma didn’t get a chance to express her fears any more as Hagrid chuckled and placed his giant hand on her back (which was entirely covered by his hand) and shepherded her along with the other nervous looking first-year students.

“You really believe in sink or swim, don’t you?” Ronnie taunted.

Dora scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ronnie shrugged. “You just kinda send her off when it comes to new things, like on the train with Ginny or now with Hagrid.”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, cuz sending her off with Hagrid or Ginny is so traumatic. How can I live with myself?”

Scott laughed. “Aye, that’s kinda like teaching her to swim in a kiddie-pool isn’t it?” Scott teased. Everyone laughed, even Ronnie.

They made their way off the platform onto a rough dirt trail which was mostly mud from the rain. Harriet had never been this way before. On her first trip to Hogwarts she was taken across the lake in one of the boats with Hagrid just as Emma was. Last year they had taken Mr Weasley’s flying Ford Anglia, which had ended with them being pummelled by the Whomping Willow.

Remembering the latter experience, Harriet had to question the odd way coincidences seemed to work, particularly in the magical world. While being knocked about and battered by the Whomping Willow had not been pleasant, Harriet had to remind herself that had it not happened, the car wouldn’t have been around to save her and Kieran from two of Aragog’s offspring.

Harriet walked on the grass along the edge of the path, trying not to get mud on her white shoes. They reached a junction of the road that was lined with horseless carriages. Harriet looked up and down the line, seeing students getting into the carriages. Harriet supposed they must have been magically enchanted to pull themselves.

Harriet did have to pause at a very odd sight. It was Luna Lovegood, Ginny’s friend, who lived with her equally strange father in the village of Ottery St Catchpole. While Luna herself was odd enough, at the moment she was outdoing herself. While most students were trying to get onto the carriages, Luna was standing at the front of one and talking to thin air. She even raised a hand as if petting an imaginary horse.

“Barking,” Ronnie muttered.

Harriet nodded though she grimaced looking down at the mud. There was no way to avoid the mud to get to the carriage.

“Here,” said the husky voice of Professor Lupin behind them.

The group turned and watched Professor Lupin take off his robes. His clothes underneath were every bit as shabby as his robes, with big patches on the elbows and knees of his shirt and trousers. He smiled, stepped past them to lay the robes down on the mud between the grass and the carriage.

The girls thanked Professor Lupin, all of them a bit giggly and flushed as they used the robes to get into the carriage without muddying their feet. The boys were all stealing glances at each other. Harriet imagined they were all silently asking themselves ‘why didn’t I think of that?’

Professor Lupin smiled at the boys as he picked up his robes and shook them out. He pulled out his wand and cleaned the mud and water off them before putting the robes back on.

“Consider that your very first lesson this term, boys,” Professor Lupin said before he turned and walked off to the carriage behind theirs.

“Well, maybe he is the Muggle-Studies Professor then?” Scott said as he climbed into the carriage.

“Why do you say that?” Hermione asked.

“Because that was sort of a, well, Muggle-ish gesture,” he said.

“Well, if he is, I do sort of wish I’d taken Muggle Studies then,” Ronnie said, elbowing Marcus in the ribs as he sat down.

“Oi!” he grunted and rolled his eyes. He smiled in spite of himself which reassured Harriet. He had got most of the colour back and seemed much healthier than he had after the Dementor. It appeared to have affected her and Marcus the most. She wondered why.

The carriage began moving forward on its own. Harriet sat back in her seat, starting to feel better. She still felt a little weaker than usual, but the chocolate had indeed done wonders as Professor Lupin had said it would.

Secretly, she hoped he would be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. This was partly because he had a very comforting air about him. It was also because Harriet had not signed up to take Muggle-Studies classes, and she had a strong desire to have him as a teacher.

Harriet leaned forward to look out the window. They were coming up to the magnificent iron gates that barred entrance to the Hogwarts grounds. They were supported by great stone columns with winged boars perched on top of them. These were intimidating enough, but at their base stood two more Dementors.

Harriet closed her eyes. The horribly familiar wave of bitter cold washed over her and her stomach churned. Hermione gave her hand a comforting squeeze and Harriet squeezed back, willing herself not to throw up.

The feeling passed as they got deeper into the grounds. Finally the carriage stopped in front of the front doors to the castle. They climbed out and immediately Harriet heard the unwelcome voice she had been expecting to hear ever since she boarded the Hogwarts Express. What she had not expected was Malfoy to go after someone else.

“Van De Lakk, did you seriously pass out? Was Longbottom telling the truth? Did you really pass out?” Malfoy was grinning as though all his Christmases had come true at once. “I mean I could see Potter fainting, but you?”

“I did not!” Marcus snapped. He took a step towards Malfoy but Scott held him back. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles threateningly.

“He did not, Malfoy!” Ronnie growled, stepping in front of Marcus.

“Awwww, bet you fainted too, didn’t you Weasley? I can just picture it; you put on such a tough girl act but the moment a scary old Dementor shows up you just go to pieces like the poor little girl you are,” Malfoy taunted. Now Harriet and Hermione grabbed Ronnie’s arms to hold her back.

“Speaking of poor,” sniggered Pansy Parkinson who stepped around Crabbe and smirked at Ronnie. “I heard your daddy finally got his hands on some gold this summer.”

“Pity they couldn’t have spent any of it on you or your sister,” Pixie said, stepping around from behind Goyle and eyeing Ronnie’s clothes once more. “But I guess with so many kids they just stopped caring about the youngest ones.”

“Is there a problem here?” Professor Lupin asked. Harriet sighed with relief as he stepped out of the carriage behind them.

Malfoy glowered, looking at Professor Lupin in a calculating way. Harriet wondered if Pansy and Pixie had warned him about Professor Lupin.

“Oh no, Professor,” Malfoy said. He gave a little smirk to Pixie, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle and they turned to head into the school.

Harriet and her friends smiled appreciatively to Professor Lupin and made their way up into the school. Harriet felt a shiver of happiness and excitement as she passed the threshold of the school. The familiar grand entrance hall with the massive stone staircase filled her with a sense of home that not even the Burrow had ever given her.

“Potter, Granger? I want to see you both.”

Harriet and Hermione both stopped and turned, looking up at Professor McGonagall.

“Why?” Harriet asked.

“I would just like a word with you both in my office,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“It won’t be long will it?” Harriet asked, looking up at Professor McGonagall with pleading eyes. “I really want to see the Sorting. Dora’s little sister’s being sorted this year.”

“Well—well it might—oh, hello Remus,” Professor McGonagall said to Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin smiled. “Wonderful to see you again as well, Professor McGonagall,” he said looking around the entrance hall. Harriet saw him beaming with familiarity at the sight and felt her sense of admiration and affection for Professor Lupin growing.

Professor Lupin smiled down at Harriet now. “Well, I tell you, Professor McGonagall. Young Harriet here certainly has a strong constitution about her. Gave her just one piece of chocolate after the encounter and she perked right up again.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “I see. Well then Potter, if you think you are alright, you may join the feast. However, I would still like a word with you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione looked hopeful. “Is-is this about—”

“Yes, Miss Granger. Move along then the rest of you,” Professor McGonagall said.

The rest of the group hurried into the Great Hall as Hermione grinned excitedly and followed Professor McGonagall.

“Wonder what that was about?” Scott asked.

“No idea,” Dora said distracted. “Better get to our tables though, you know,” she rolled her eyes, “traditions.”

The group laughed and made their way to their tables. Harriet could hear Ronnie and Marcus’ stomachs growling even over the din of talking students. Her face split into a wider grin when there was a shriek of glee and Rachel came running towards them. Rachel was as tiny as ever and she laughed, hugging Harriet tight. Katy, AJ and Tori came over as well. Over Rachel’s shoulder, Harriet could see Erica sitting with Angelina, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet.

They sat, filling everyone in on their summers. The girls all bemoaned being barred from leaving the school over the summer due to the threat of Kinney. As they discussed this subject, Harriet stole glances up and down the table. Once more, the attitudes of normal students towards the American students seemed a little cold. Harriet sighed. Had they read Skeeter’s article too?

Well if they have read it and also believe the new students should be “sent back where they came from,” that’s their problem, Harriet thought. They hadn’t chosen to be attacked and displaced from their homes. Now Harriet thought about it, she felt an even stronger connection to them, as she now had a deranged psychopath after her too.

Harriet looked up at the staff table and smiled. There was Professor Dumbledore, his white beard looking faintly gold in the glinting candle-light. As she looked at him, she felt the final effects of the encounter with the Dementor wash away. The sense of power that radiated from Professor Dumbledore seemed to fill her with the same sense of calm that petting the unicorns had.

Professor Dumbledore was leaning over, talking with a man who Harriet had never seen before. He was wearing white robes and white headdress held on by a double circlet made of black cord. He was thickly built and tall, with very tan skin and twinkling eyes. His lips were curled into a wide, cheery grin.

He spoke very rapidly and Harriet had a hard time following his lips. She wasn’t sure what language he was speaking but she was sure it wasn’t English. That did not seem to stump Professor Dumbledore, who was speaking back just as fluently.

Beside the man were three boys, all dressed in the same manner as the new man. Harriet blinked studying them. The oldest boy looked to be no older than Percy. What were other children doing sitting at the staff table?

“Who’re they you reckon?” Ronnie asked.

“Dunno,” Marcus muttered. “Like the look of the dad though. Looks like a really pleasant bloke, lots of laughs.”

“Maybe he’s the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Parvati Patil suggested.

Professor Dumbledore scanned the room with his eyes as he took a sip from his goblet. Harriet remembered how he had not been happy about her leaving Privet Drive with Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins. She suddenly worried that he still felt that way but that fear abated at once as his piercing blue-eyes found hers and he gave her a tiny wink.

At that moment there was some commotion around the Great Hall and Harriet turned to see the Hogwarts ghosts were floating in through the walls to join them. Kieran smiled and made room, as he always did, for Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

“Ah hello young Miss Potter!” Nearly-Headless Nick said beaming. He seemed even happier to see her this year than usual. Harriet supposed it was because she had stopped Tom Riddle last year whose pet basilisk had petrified Nick.

Harriet was about to respond when Professor Flitwick strode to the front of the room, awkwardly carrying the three-legged stool and the ragged Hogwarts’ Sorting Hat. Harriet gave the hat an affectionate smile. Even though she still disagreed with the Hat, that she would have done well in Slytherin, the Hat had still turned up for her in her time of need last spring and given her the Sword of Gryffindor which she had used to defeat Riddle and the basilisk.

Hagrid came sidling in through a back door to the Great Hall. He sat next to Professor Lupin and gave Harriet and Erica an excited wave. Harriet and Erica both waved back eagerly.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and the first-years came in. Harriet studied the new group intently. She was looking for Jackson but did not see him. She knew there were going to be more incoming refugees who had not been old enough to attend Hogwarts the year before. She was curious if they were going to be sorted separately as they had the previous year or if all new first-years were going to be sorted at the same time? And if they did sort them all at the same time, would it help get rid of the “others” stigma that existed for the new students?

At the Hufflepuff table, two curvy girls Harriet recognized by face only as being refugees, rose and waved energetically to two of the girls in the group of first years. Harriet took that as a sign that the new American students were to be sorted at the same time as regular Hogwarts students.

Professor Dumbledore rose to greet the incoming first-years. The whole hall fell silent as Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat to speak. In a tradition Harriet approved of, no one in the school ever spoke when Professor Dumbledore was talking.

“Welcome! And welcome back!” Professor Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide in greeting. “Now I know we are all ready for another wonderful Sorting, but once again I must interrupt very briefly to make a necessary statement. This is a most important and serious matter. As you are all aware, following their unscheduled search of the Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts is currently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban.”

Professor Dumbledore paused and Harriet remembered how Dora had said that Professor Dumbledore was not happy about the Dementors guarding the school. “The Dementors are here on Ministry orders, and they are stationed at every entrance to the school grounds. While they are here, I must say in the strongest possible terms that no one is to leave this school without permission. Not even into the grounds. Dementors are not fooled by tricks or disguises, not even invisibility cloaks.”

Harriet and her friends all stole glances at each other.

“It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand excuses or pleading. Therefore, I implore each and every one of you to give the Dementors no reason to harm you. I place my trust in our wonderful staff, our prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl to ensure that no student meets an unfortunate end at the hands of the Dementors.”

A wave of shivers passed over the Great Hall as Professor Dumbledore finished his warning. The one exception was Percy, who beamed and stuck out his chest, showing off his shiny Head Boy badge. Marcus mimed hanging himself as usual.

“That being said, dangerous though they are, the Dementors are here to protect you all from even greater external dangers. I know all of you are aware of the escape of Sirius Black, however, I must even more strongly impress upon you the seriousness of Solomon Kinney. I’m sure you are all equally aware of the attack carried out on the offices of the Daily Prophet yesterday afternoon. And I know for a fact that more than a few of you were in the vicinity and even witnessed the devastation. I must caution all of you to remember that of the people killed in that bombing, one was a mere eleven year old girl who was doing her shopping with her mother, father, and younger brother for her very first trip to Hogwarts.”

There was a wave of gasps and mutterings that swept over the Great Hall at this. Harriet felt sick to her stomach.

“It… pains me more than I can possibly say to think that this young girl should be here, waiting to be sorted at this very moment. Her name was Amanda Kruzel. Her father was named George, her mother Estrella, and her younger brother Stewart. It is an announcement no teacher ever wishes to make to their students. Amanda could have been in any one of your houses, be it Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. In a few minutes time, she could have been seated right next to you.”

Professor Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath. As he did, there was not a single sound coming from any of the students or staff. Instead, everyone was looking uncomfortably at the seats next to them. Harriet was surprised to note that even Malfoy was looking troubled.

“The man who carried out the attack, Solomon Kinney, wishes to do similar harm on your fellow students who joined us last year. He is willing to kill anyone to achieve his ends. It is for this reason, as much as the danger of the Dementors, that I must impress upon all of you to remain within the castle except for classes and sanctioned extra-curricular activities. Friendship and watching out for one another will see us through this crisis while the Ministry works tirelessly to bring both Kinney and Black to justice.”

Professor Dumbledore finished, looking around the room impressively. “Now, I would like you all to join me in a minute of silence to remember not just Amanda and her family, but all of the others who were killed in that terrible act of destruction yesterday.”

Dumbledore clasped his hands together and hung his head, his eyes closed. There was not a single rustle of a cloak or a clink of a glass or plate. It was perhaps the deepest silence Harriet had ever heard. She felt as though she could hear her own heart beating in her chest as she sat in silent contemplation.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore looked up at them and his face broke into a gentle smile. “Thank you. I’m proud to see how seriously our students take such a tragic event and its significance. However, I am not all doom and gloom. On a much happier note; I would like you all to welcome Prince Faysal al-Abdelaziz al-Tahiri, from the nation of Kuwait. Prince Faysal is here with his sons, Adil, Anass, and Fahim, to see the Sorting of his daughter, Basheera, who has transferred here from our sister school of Beauxbatons.”

“Ohhhh well that explains that,” Lavender hissed in Parvati’s ear.

Prince Faysal laughed and waved merrily at the students. He did seem like a very cheerful man, Harriet had to admit, given he was transferring his daughter from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts in this current climate and was still smiling about it.

“Oooo wonder if they’re all wizards, too?” Parvati asked. “Anass is a hottie…”

“And a prince,” Lavender added. Both girls broke down into giggles.

“Prince Faysal and his sons have been given special dispensation by the Ministry to join us today, and I’m sure you’ll all join me in giving them a warm Hogwarts welcome.”

Professor Dumbledore started clapping and the rest of the students joined in. Prince Faysal waved them all down and Professor Dumbledore bowed to him.

“Special dispensation? Wonder if that means they’re Muggles?” Kieran wondered aloud.

“Just as good,” Parvati said without hesitation, checking her hair in her spoon.

Harriet rolled her eyes.

Professor Dumbledore sat and gave a nod to Professor Flitwick. Professor Flitwick smiled and placed the Sorting Hat on the stool. Everyone watched with bated breath, waiting for the Sorting Hat to begin its song. Just then, a rip in the hat opened like a mouth and the Hat began to sing.


“The Hogwarts founders in half were rent
when of Godric an enemy Salazar did invent
To reverse the tides of doom-ed fate
A friend of the snake, the lion must make.

For in these dark times we must pause
and beneath one banner to unite
under strong and common cause
with truth and knowledge must we fight.

If you have the heart to find
what lies cloud allies from your sight
You must open up your mind
and seek unlikely heroes kind.

For you will find consistent aid
among those whose reputations fade
The opposite can be said of many
whose appearance seems uncanny.

If a lesson is taken from my song
be this: It is hard to right a wrong.
But in doing so you can persevere
and bring to all much good cheer.

Yet one more caution I must speak
in favour of the scared and weak:
The closer a false friend is kept
you will be led to actions you'll regret.”


“That was a different one,” Harriet heard Fred say from nearby as awkward applause broke out around the Great Hall. Apparently, Harriet wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure how to feel about the Sorting Hat’s song.

“Well, the Hat has often been known to give warnings during troubled times,” Nearly-Headless Nick said sagely as he clapped.

“So, what was that warning supposed to be about?” Ronnie asked.

“Well, Professor Dumbledore did just remind you all that Sirius Black and Solomon Kinney are on the loose,” Nick replied. “And he did mention that only by working together can we stave off their threat. And sometimes, that means looking for allies in very unlikely places.”

Harriet nodded, digesting that thought as the applause died down. She watched with excitement as Professor Flitwick pulled up the parchment that had the list of student’s names on it and read the first name in his squeaky voice: “Bailey, Conner!”

A small, green eyed, blonde boy stepped forward. As Professor Flitwick wasn’t tall enough, Conner had to put the Hat on himself.

“Ravenclaw!” the Sorting Hat bellowed.

The Ravenclaws burst into applause as Conner beamed and whipped off the Sorting Hat, setting it back precariously on the stool and hurrying off to his new housemates.

After Conner, a tall blonde girl with a heart-shaped face named Robyn Carmichael became a Slytherin. As the previous years, Harriet wondered if she knew the reputation Slytherin house had. She smiled however to see Dora move aside and make room for Robyn.

“Clooney, Britney!”

Another small, square faced girl went forward. One of the returning American girls, Tory Clooney, squealed with delight, watching with crossed fingers. Harriet assumed Britney was her younger sister. “Hufflepuff!”

Tory groaned and pouted, giving a sad wave to Britney who returned it as she made her way to the Hufflepuff table.

A thin boy with brown hair and bright green eyes named Evan Cole became the first Gryffindor. Harriet cheered and pounded her hands on the table with the rest of the house as Evan made his way to them.

A pretty, brown haired girl named Cara Coleman and a small ginger boy named Kyle Conner became Hufflepuffs, followed by a Gryffindor, Darlene Duey. Sean Fenn became another Slytherin, when finally the name Harriet had been waiting for was called.

“Flamel, Emma!”

Emma looked as though she was about to faint. She made her way forward on shaking knees and sat on the stool. She nearly dropped the Sorting Hat as she tried to put it on her head. Harriet held her breath, crossing her fingers.

“Gryffindor!”

Harriet’s jaw fell open. So did Ronnie’s. Harriet stood and whistled loudly as Emma’s face went just as red as the Gryffindor banners. Harriet waved to her and made room for Emma to sit between her and Ronnie. Harriet shot a glance across the Great Hall to Dora who was on her feet with her other Slytherin friends, Sae Miyazaki and Courtney Thomas. Dora gave Harriet a warm smile before sitting back down.

One of the girls who the Hufflepuff refugees had waved at, a pretty blond girl named Audrey Ford became a Slytherin, while another brunette girl named Ana Galland became a Gryffindor. The other girl the two had waved to, Katherine Grand, became another Slytherin while Addie Harkins went to Ravenclaw.

“Rough year for Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,” Seamus observed.

However, he was proven slightly wrong when the next two, Sammi Hawker and Mason Irvine both went to Hufflepuff.

“Good year for Slytherin though,” Dean said, grudgingly, as Wyatt Jarvis and Melina Juarez became Slytherins.

Jacob Kelvin became another Hufflepuff, while Jack Knight and Jason MacGregor further swelled Slytherin’s ranks, and Andrew Marsh was sent on to the Gryffindor table.

“Dean might have a point about the Slytherins,” Marcus muttered.

The next name called gave Harriet some pause.

“Martinez, Carmina!”

A pretty girl who looked to be Isabella in miniature made her way forward. Sure enough, Isabella rose and started applauding before Carmina had even sat on the stool. “Hufflepuff!” cried the Sorting Hat.

Harriet smiled as Carmina and Isabella met each other half way, embracing in delight. Harriet watched them head back to the Hufflepuff table. She had thought they were going to sit together but was surprised as Carmina sat with another first-year girl, Sammi Hawker, instead. Isabella meanwhile sat next to Jeremy. Harriet supposed he looked healthier than he had the previous spring, but certainly still not his old, cheery self.

A pair of twin boys, Michael and Patrick Minsel, became Ravenclaws, while a Japanese girl, Jurina Mitsuo, became another Slytherin. Harriet watched as Sae eagerly made room for Jurina and they began chatting very quickly in Japanese. At least Harriet assumed they were speaking in Japanese, given the confused looks on the faces of the other students sitting around them.

David Morgan joined Ravenclaw while another Japanese girl, Shiori Ogamino, joined Hufflepuff. She and Jurina gave each other sad little waves as Shiori sat down. Harriet looked around the house tables and felt especially bad for Shiori, as from what she’d seen, none of the other Japanese girls had been sorted into Hufflepuff the previous years.

She pondered for a moment how all the Japanese girls seemed to know each other. It didn’t seem realistic to say they knew each other just because they were Japanese, there had to be some deeper reason. She glanced at Sae and her other friends at the Ravenclaw table, Atsuko and Tomomi. Maybe she would get the chance to ask them about it this year.

“O’Shea, Samantha!”

Harriet’s attention was pulled back to the Sorting.

“Ravenclaw!”

The crowd was dwindling now. There only looked to be six or so more students left. As she scanned them, she spotted a girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“Omigosh,” Rachel gasped. “It can’t be! It can’t be!”

“What?” Ronnie asked, but they were distracted as Mike Rhodes was called forward and promptly sent to join them at the Gryffindor table.

Finally, Harriet’s suspicions were confirmed. “Sinistra, Nanette!”

The little blond girl made her way to the stool. Professor Sinistra applauded and crossed her fingers. Nanette flushed and sat on the stool, putting the Sorting Hat on. “Gryffindor!”

Rachel shrieked with delight and hopped up and down, beside herself with excitement. She managed to catch Nanette’s attention and Nanette looked relieved and made her way over, sitting between Rachel and Tori. Harriet looked back up at the remaining first years and frowned. Where was Nanette’s sister, Rosie?

After Nanette, a girl with very curly black hair named Romilda Vane and a boy with equally black hair named Owen Wallace became Gryffindors. A girl with flaming red hair, Kerry Winsbury, became a Ravenclaw.

“Wonder if she’s a relative of yours?” Harriet asked Ronnie. Ronnie rolled her eyes.

“Not likely,” Emma said in a quiet voice, avoiding everyone’s eye, staring at her plate.

“Why do you say that?” Marcus asked.

“She’s an American,” Emma muttered, fidgeting with her robes. “She said so while we were waiting to be led in.”

“Well, that would explain it,” Marcus said.

“She’s a Muggle-born too,” Emma said matter-of-factly, balancing her fork on the rim of her glass.

Harriet raised an eyebrow. “Does that make a difference?” she asked, trying to keep coolness out of her voice.

“No,” Emma muttered. “Just means she can’t be related to you.”

“Did she tell you she was?” Kieran asked curiously.

“No. Just noticed cuz she’s got braces. Think they’re cool.”

Harriet shot an awkward glance around at the others before she returned her attention to the Sorting. There was only one student left now.

“Wyrven, Spencer!” The last, blonde boy stepped forward.

“Hufflepuff!”

The Hufflepuff table broke into wild applause. It was considered good luck at Hogwarts to get either the first or final first year during the Sorting. As much as she supported her own house, Harriet secretly hoped that Hufflepuff would do well this year. They almost always came in last place in the Hogwarts House Cup competition.

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet again and the din died down. “Congratulations everyone! Now, we have two final students to be sorted. You may enter!” Professor Dumbledore called.

The door to the Great Hall opened again and a pretty girl wearing a dappled, light green hijab came in, followed closely by Jackson. Harriet watched with bated breath as the two new students moved to the front of the room. As they did, she caught Scott’s eye and he gave her a competitive grin. Ronnie’s jaw had dropped at the sight of Jackson.

“You never said he was such a hottie!” she hissed at Harriet. Around them, Marcus, Dean, Kieran and Seamus all glowered.

There was tense whispering as Professor Flitwick bowed to them both and said “Basheera bint Faysal al-Abdelaziz al-Tahiri!”

Basheera smiled at him and pulled down her hijab, sitting on the stool and putting on the Hat. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. The Slytherin table alone appeared not that interested in where Basheera was sorted. She supposed as a Muggle-born her chances of joining Slytherin house were slim anyway, but not impossible.

“Gryffindor!” the Hat called after a minute’s deliberation.

Harriet joined in the cheering with the other Gryffindors as Basheera joined them, sitting beside AJ, Parvati and Lavender. Parvati and Lavender leaned in at once, and Harriet could only assume they were asking her questions about her brothers. AJ didn’t pay any attention. Her eyes were fixed on Jackson, wide with hope. He even caught her eye and gave her a sheepish little smile.

“Lee, Jackson,” Professor Flitwick said.

With no hesitation whatsoever, the Sorting Hat declared: “Gryffindor!”

The Gryffindor table exploded. Jackson looked taken aback at the exuberant greeting but quickly made his way to sit with AJ. Harriet was standing with the rest of the house, applauding. Kieran sat before she did and as he did she caught Scott’s eye once more. He was grinning ear to ear in an expression that plainly said: “I told you so.”

Harriet rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. She caught sight of some Hufflepuffs who were looking at the cheering Gryffindors mutinously. Harriet supposed they felt a little cheated out of getting the final Sortee.

Everyone was leaning in to speak to Basheera in particular. Both boys and girls were anxious to talk to Basheera, while mostly girls seemed all that interested in Jackson. That did not seem to help put AJ in the best mood.

The door to the Great Hall opened once more and Hermione and Professor McGonagall came in. Hermione was looking quite pleased about something and moved over as quickly as she could to sit with Harriet and the rest.

“You made Gryffindor! Oh congratulations, Emma! Welcome!” Hermione said beaming at Emma. Emma flushed and looked at her lap.

“Thanks,” she muttered and Harriet wasn’t quite sure, but she could have sworn she saw the corners of Emma’s mouth curl into a smile.

“What was that about?” Ronnie asked Hermione.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but she was cut off as Professor Dumbledore rose again.

“Well, and here we are, at the end of another wonderful Sorting,” he said. “As we’ve already got the dark, dangerous and frightening announcements out of the way, let us move on to the lighter news. I am pleased to welcome not one, not two, not three, but four new teachers to our ranks this year as well as a new member of staff. First, I am sorry to say that following her unpleasant experience last spring during the Heir of Slytherin attacks, Madame Pince has resigned her post as chief librarian.”

If Professor Dumbledore expected any of the students to feel sorry about this, he was much mistaken. Instead, the Great Hall applauded enthusiastically. However, he did not appear very surprised.

“In her place, I am pleased to announce that Mister Giles Robertson will be taking over her role. He is a most accomplished librarian and I am sure you will find him most knowledgeable and helpful when you begin your studies tomorrow.”

There was more enthusiastic applause and Professor Dumbledore smiled. “As for our new teachers, the first is Professor Lupin, who has kindly taken the Defence against the Dark Arts post.”

There was scattered applause. Only Harriet and her friends who had been in the compartment with the Dementor applauded with any enthusiasm. Harriet smiled gladly. In spite of his tired, malnourished look, he was more capable than he seemed, and a proper gentleman. There was also the fact she was happy to be sure of having him as a teacher this year.

“Blimey, look at Snape,” Ronnie said nodding down the staff table.

Harriet looked and felt her eyebrows knot closer together. While it was widely known that Professor Snape wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, Harriet was taken aback at the look on Professor Snape’s face. He was not applauding. Instead he was looking at Professor Lupin with deep hatred etched on every line of his face. Harriet felt a chill. He had never even looked at Gilderoy Lockhart with that much contempt.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat once more. “Second, I am sad to announce that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, has retired in order to spend quality time with his two remaining limbs and thoroughly re-evaluate his knowledge of Magical Creatures in light of some recent revelations. Fortunately, our own Rubeus Hagrid has agreed to take up the position.”

Harriet gasped. The ruckus that broke out (at the Gryffindor table in particular) was enormous. Hagrid flushed and buried his face in his handkerchief. Harriet was sure he was crying.

“Well that explains the biting book!” Marcus shouted over the roar.

“Yeah, who else would have thought that one up?” Ronnie asked.

Professor Dumbledore beamed and held up a hand for quiet. “Thirdly, Professor Burbage has also left to take on a bigger role at the Ministry of Magic. In her place, I would like to welcome Professor Spring to our ranks as the new Muggle-Studies professor.”

The cheering that broke out wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as Hagrid’s, but it was more than Professor Lupin’s had been. Harriet craned her neck to look at Professor Spring as she stood. Professor Spring looked quite young, perhaps around the same age as Professor Sinistra. She also had blonde hair, but it was done up in a spiky pixie-cut and she had a very round face and twinkling blue eyes. She looked very good natured as she beamed around at everyone.

“And finally, this is something like the end of an era I must admit, but due to certain new circumstances, Professor Binns shall no longer be carrying on as History of Magic professor.”

This was followed by a few moments of quiet disbelief, before the Great Hall nearly exploded with noise. Students who had been forced to take years of Professor Binns’ droning voice cheered and whooped with joy at this news, Harriet, Ronnie, and Marcus among them. Only Hermione and Scott, the only students in the school who seemed able to resist Binns’ sleep-inducing lessons, looked at the very least indifferent to this news.

Dumbledore raised his hand and the din died down almost immediately. “In his stead, we are proud to introduce Professor Stratton who has agreed to come out of retirement to take on these duties.” Dumbledore turned looking down the table to his left applauding with the other teachers.

A figure Harriet hadn’t noticed before rose to his feet. After he did so, Harriet was quite surprised that she had not noticed him before. Simply put, Professor Stratton was enormous. Not on the same scale as Hagrid, but he looked as though he was over seven feet tall, with wide, powerful shoulders and a barrel-chest that was apparent even through his flowing, black robes. He was black, and his head was completely bald, except for the stark goatee that mostly stood out from the hints of grey in it.

His eyes were bright, and scanned the room imperiously. With a quick glance around, Harriet could see that everyone else, like her, had spotted immediately that this was a professor who was not to be messed with. Harriet looked back up at Professor Stratton, seeing his eyes pan towards the Gryffindor table. They lighted on Harriet, and seemed to hover there for just a moment before passing on, but in that moment, Harriet had seen it, or at least she thought she had.

In the moment they had taken her in, Professor Stratton’s eyes seemed to have flashed bright greenish-silver. It was a feral sight, and it made her shiver. The flashing eyes had looked much like the eyes of the Gurt Dog she had seen in Privet Drive with Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins. This intrigued her a little, yet she did not feel afraid of him, merely intimidated at the sheer power that radiated from him. Harriet glanced at Ronnie and knew they were both thinking the same thing. Why wasn’t he the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?

Professor Stratton bowed low as the students finally started applauding. Most everyone around the Great Hall was staring at him in awe and so the applause came delayed and slightly rolling in volume. Harriet watched him sit, and was surprised to see him actually smile at Professor Lupin, who returned the smile and applauded even louder for Professor Stratton as though they were old friends.

Harriet supposed they may well have been friends, but even with what Harriet had seen on the train and knowing Lupin was indeed capable, and that in the Wizarding world very many things were not at all what they appeared, she still felt a far more formidable presence from Professor Stratton than Lupin. Looking along the staff table, Harriet was surprised to see that many of the other professors were giving Stratton slight looks of reverence. But as her eyes moved further down, she was once again surprised by the look on Professor Snape’s face. He didn’t look reverent, or sneering, or angry. No, the look on Professor Snape’s face bordered on abject terror.

Dumbledore turned to face them all and silence slowly fell. “Well, now that all necessary announcements are well and taken care of and we have properly greeted our newest additions to staff, it is now finally time to enjoy our excellent feast! Tuck in!”

And with that, all of the tables in the Great Hall groaned as they were filled with food. Harriet was starving, and grabbed everything within reach, though not nearly as much as Ronnie, who had both a longer reach and an appetite that seemed to rival both of her twin older brothers’, Fred and George, put together.

“Well, the new History of Magic professor certainly looks rather capable doesn’t he?” said Fred as he and George slid closer to the trio, eyeing the new professor somewhat warily, which was a surprising look to see on Fred’s face.

“Yeah, and did you see his eyes? Weird yeah?” asked George in a similar undertone.

Harriet nodded.

“His eyes? What about them?” asked Hermione.

“They flashed, like, glowing, like a dog’s or something,” said Harriet and Fred and George nodded.

“It must have been a trick of the light,” said Hermione casually.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” said Marcus who shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t see it but if Harriet, Fred and George did…”

“Human eyes don’t glow, Marcus, the retina doesn’t reflect enough light like dog and cat eyes do.”

“The what-ina?” asked Ronnie.

“The retina, the back part of your eye. Dog and cat eyes collect light to see at night. Human eyes don’t.”

“I saw them glow,” Emma said as she filled her plate with food. Harriet wasn’t sure how she could have, as she hadn’t looked at anyone the whole time since she sat, but she was glad of support.

Harriet glanced back up at Professor Stratton. “What if he’s not human…?” she asked.

The rest of the group around her blinked with confusion.

“What do you mean? Of course he’s human, look at him,” said Ronnie, perplexed.

“Well, what if he’s…”

“What if he’s what?” Kieran asked. He sounded more curious than doubting.

“Never mind,” Harriet said and started eating. The others looked at her, a little confused, but started eating too.

Harriet was curious, but didn’t want to speak her mind just yet. Her suspicion about the possible connection between the Gurt Dog in Privet Drive with its glowing eyes and the glowing eyes of Professor Stratton was hard to ignore.

Harriet distracted herself by turning her attention elsewhere at the Gryffindor table. Hermione had joined in questioning Basheera.

“So, what year are you, Basheera?” Hermione asked leaning over Parvati.

“I shall be a third year,” Basheera answered.

“Oh cool, you’ll be in our dorm then,” Harriet chimed in. Basheera smiled and nodded.

“Heh, it’ll be getting crowded,” Ronnie said drawing a dirty look from Hermione.

“That’s not the point, Ronnie,” Hermione snapped but Basheera laughed.

“How many will be in our dormitory?” She asked.

“Well, you, me, Lav, Ronnie, Harriet, Hermione, AJ, Tori, and Rachel,” Parvati said.

Basheera laughed even louder. “That is many, isn’t it?” she said smiling. “I am sure we will all be able to fit. The school is magic after all, is it not?”

Hermione smiled. “That’s very true,” she said.

Harriet was pleased to see that Basheera seemed to take much of her sense of humour from her father. She didn’t frown once from what Harriet saw, and she seemed very eager to answer questions about herself and had many of her own. Harriet was pleasantly surprised to see that she and Ginny appeared to be hitting it off very well.

The same could not quite be said for Jackson. He seemed to be trying to dodge most questions, while AJ seemed to be doing her part to answer them for him. Harriet sighed. She wanted Jackson to open up a little, but then she reminded herself that he was rumoured to have killed someone, and so there were many things he would probably rather keep to himself. Harriet was glad to see that AJ had befriended Jackson and was doing her best to stick up for him.

When the feast finished, Professor Dumbledore rose once more to tell them all it was time for bed. Harriet and her friends did not move to the doors, however. Instead, they made straight for the staff table to talk to Hagrid.

“Congratulations!” Hermione squealed with delight.

“All down ter you lot,” Hagrid said, dabbing his eyes with his handkerchief once more. “Can’ believe it… I mean, me a teacher? Dumbledore came straight down ter me hut after Professor Kettleburn called it quits. Never thought nothin’ like this could ever happen ter me.”

“Alright you all, off to bed with you, you may speak to Professor Hagrid during your lessons tomorrow,” Professor McGonagall said shooing them off. However, in spite of her stern tone, Harriet couldn’t help but notice a warm twinkle in her eye and a smile in the corners of her mouth.

They made their way up with the rest of the students to Gryffindor tower. After so many eventful days in a row Harriet was starting to feel very tired. Hermione continued to bombard Basheera with questions but as interested as Harriet was, she just couldn’t focus. She didn’t even hear Percy when he announced what the new password was to gain entrance to the tower. This did not concern her, as she knew she would hear it again tomorrow.

While most students stayed up in the common room to talk, Harriet made straight for her dormitory. Sure enough, as she stepped inside, the room had expanded yet again to make room for another bed. Her trunk was waiting for her and she quickly changed into her pyjamas. She closed the curtains, turned off her oil lamp, and climbed under the covers.

The last fleeting thought to go through Harriet’s mind as she closed her eyes was I’m home. She took yawned once more, clutched her comforter tighter, and fell asleep.  

Chapter Text

Harriet should have known that the start to her third year as a Hogwarts student would not go as smoothly as she hoped. The trouble began at around two in the morning, when a cacophony of hissing, spitting, shouting, and squeaking roused the entire dormitory. The source of the commotion was soon revealed to be Crookshanks who had made a renewed attack on Scabbers while everyone slept.

In the end, a disgruntled Hermione was forced to put Crookshanks outside the dormitory for the rest of the night. Even then, sleep was not to be had. Crookshanks yowled outside the door for a while, crying to be let back in until Ginny took pity on them all and took Crookshanks.

They had only slept perhaps another hour when the next major disturbance occurred. A series of ear-splitting bangs shook the whole of Gryffindor tower. The noises then triggered an apparent relapse in some of the American students’ night-terror attacks, including Rachel.

And so Harriet found herself spending her very first morning helping AJ and Tori calm Rachel down. They finally could stop when Rachel woke up and realized what had happened. Her face went red with shame and she rolled over, hugging her pillow tight. The other girls all looked at each other awkwardly and decided to leave Rachel alone and followed the sounds of voices down the stairs to the common room.

The entirety of the scene was a bit staggering. Confused and disgruntled Gryffindors were crowded around the foot of the boys’ staircase. Kieran and Marcus were sitting on the bottom step and Kieran was attempting to stop Marcus’ eyebrow from bleeding. Marcus meanwhile kept asking if Jackson was okay. Nearby, Dean and Seamus were looking venomous and glaring at Jackson who was standing in a corner staring at the floor. Harriet couldn’t tell if the look on his face was shame or anger.

It did not take much detective work to figure out what had happened. Percy was bellowing at Jackson at the top of his voice. However, the reason for Percy yelling was not just anger. He also had to yell to be heard over AJ who was yelling at Percy in turn for yelling at Jackson.

From what Harriet was hearing, Jackson had experienced a night-terror of his own. However, instead of just screaming, it seemed Jackson had grabbed his wand and fired off a spell into the middle of the room which bounced around a few times before exploding. One of the objects it bounced off of was Marcus’ head.

“SO RECKLESS! WHO KEEPS THEIR WAND UNDER THEIR PILLOW THESE DAYS?!”

“Where’s Neville?” Hermione asked looking around. Harriet glanced around and realized she was right; Neville was nowhere to be seen.

“COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE!”

“Apparently he’s still trapped in his bed,” Parvati said over Percy’s yells, sounding slightly amused. “His bed collapsed on top of him when the spell exploded. I guess a couple fourth year boys are trying to free him—”

“HE COULDN’T HELP IT! NONE OF THEM CAN WHEN IT HAPPENS!”

The situation was only diffused by the arrival of Professor McGonagall. “What on earth happened here? Weasley, report!” Professor McGonagall snapped.

Percy scowled. “It was Lee, Professor! He blew up the third-year boys’ dormitory, nearly took out Van De Lakk’s eye and Longbottom’s still trapped in his bed!”

Professor McGonagall’s beady-eyes swept back and forth between Percy and Jackson. “What happened, Lee?”

Jackson hung his head, looking even more ashamed of himself. Somehow, Harriet felt he wasn’t ashamed about being in trouble. He seemed more like he was ashamed it had happened at all. Percy scowled at Professor McGonagall behind her back, clearly upset that his word was not being accepted outright.

“I… had a… nightmare or something and I guess I just… sorry…” he mumbled.

Professor McGonagall looked at him for a moment. As always, Harriet wasn’t sure whether Professor McGonagall was going to be understanding, or begin shouting at him. She had the uncanny ability to make it look as though anyone she turned her gaze upon was in trouble.

“I see. Well, Lee, maybe in the future you can sleep with your wand a bit further away from your bed to prevent this from happening again?”

“Y-yes, Professor,” Jackson muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“Now then, you boys get back upstairs to assist Longbottom and clean up the mess. Van De Lakk, let’s get you to the hospital wing to get that cut cleaned and closed.”

“Yes, Professor,” Marcus said and got to his feet.

Professor McGonagall turned and led Marcus from the room while Dean and Seamus looked even angrier now that they had to help clean up a mess they had not created. Percy swooped about, shooing everyone back to their dormitories.

“Nothing to see, move along now! You can all still get another couple hours of sleep before classes begin.”

“Big puffed-up grouse,” AJ grumbled as she and the rest of the girls made their way up the stairs. “Who does he think he is? Yelling at Jackson like that. So he had an attack? He should be used to that by now. Now that he’s all mister big-tough Head Boy he’s gotten even worse.”

AJ didn’t bother keeping her thoughts to herself despite Ronnie’s presence, although Harriet was sure that AJ was too mad to even realize Ronnie was there. However, Ronnie seemed to share AJ’s sentiments.

“You’re telling me?” Ronnie growled. “I had to put up with him all summer.”

As they re-entered their dormitory, Harriet saw that Rachel had drawn her bed curtains shut. Harriet was sure Rachel was sulking. She grimaced as she looked at the closed curtains. She wanted to comfort Rachel again, but supposed it would only make things worse to keep bringing it up. However, Lavender broke Harriet’s attention off Rachel.

“Wait… where’s Basheera?”

Harriet looked around and realized she was right; Basheera was nowhere to be seen. By the looks of it, she had left sometime before the mayhem started. She had even made her bed.

“You know, she wasn’t in here when…” Tori started to say but broke off, glancing at Rachel’s bed, “when the explosion happened.”

“She’s probably praying,” Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone as she climbed back into bed.

“Prayin’?” AJ asked. “Why’s she gotta go somewheres else for that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s Muslim. It’s part of their faith. They pray five times a day, and they have a ritual they go through before and during each prayer.”

“Ohhhhh,” AJ said thoughtfully. “Back home we just went once ev’ry Sunday.”

“How come you don’t anymore?” Lavender asked.

AJ gave her a quizzical look. “Ya’ll see many churches ‘round here?”

“Oh, yeah, good point,” Lavender said rubbing her chin.

“B’sides, it was mostly Dad who wanted us tah go,” AJ went on, her voice going a bit quieter. “’Spect our preacher woulda called in an exercism if he’da known what Mom and the rest of us kids were.”

“Is it that bad?” Parvati asked.

AJ shrugged. “Not all places. Like two uh the girls who wound up in Hufflepuff, Jenny Thomas and Haley Burns, their church was raisin’ them up to be healers. They didn’t really know it came from magic, but they’da probably saw it as a divine gift anyway. Church is kinda… weird… back home.”

Harriet pondered this. No one spoke for a while after that. Harriet did not fall asleep again. Instead she simply lay on her back until finally it was time to head down to breakfast. However, even this was not the end of their awkward moments. They returned to the common room and found Jackson in trouble with Percy once again.

“You are completely out of uniform, Lee!”

“Oh what now?!” AJ growled as they left the stairs. Sure enough, Jackson was wearing entirely normal clothes. Well, almost normal. Mostly, he looked like he had just walked out of—

“Oy, get a load of the Milkybar kid,” Dean Thomas taunted from the fireplace where he had been sitting and talking with Seamus. By his tone, the comment was clearly meant to wound, however, it did not have quite the effect he had hoped for.

“Milky-what now?” Jackson asked as he inspected his jeans, white shirt, leather vest and cowboy boots.

Jackson, being American, clearly had no idea who the Milkybar Kid was, and neither did most of the other American students. Then there were the majority of the Gryffindor students who came from at least Half-Blood families, and so did not grow up with exposure to Muggle products and advertising.

Harriet, having grown up around Dudley, knew exactly what Milkybars were and who the Milkybar kid was, but she didn’t find the comparison funny at all. And so all Dean got out of the taunt was a few titters here and there and a swat up the back of the head from the fifth year (now sixth year) girl Colin Creevey had taken a fancy too the previous year. Dean turned to glare and protest but after seeing how much taller than him she was, he balked and simply stared at the floor. Colin smirked at him from nearby.

“It doesn’t matter,” Percy interjected, drawing Harriet’s attention back to the scene. “You are out of uniform, Lee. Get back upstairs and change at once.”

“But I thought they said we only had to wear it for classes?” Jackson replied. “Aren’t we just going to breakfast now?”

“Yes, and thereafter you go straight to your classes,” Percy snapped and pointed. “Now change at once or it’s a detention!”

“You’re seriously going to give a detention to the new kid just because he misinterpreted something?” came Marcus’ surly voice from the portrait hole.

The room went quiet. Everyone remembered all too well the constant battles between Percy and Marcus the previous year. Apparently, that trend was going to continue given the look of indignation on Marcus’ face as he stomped over. He still had a small white bandage covering half his right eyebrow.

“Come on Perce, you’ve made it to Head Boy, do you really need to milk your power around here even more?” Marcus demanded crossing his arms.

“Th-that’s-that’s completely out of order, Van De Lakk!” Percy stammered, clearly caught off guard by that particular attack.

“Besides, if anyone here should be mad at him it’s probably me—well—and Neville,” Marcus said giving a nod in Neville’s direction “but neither of us blame him. And then after you spent all last year getting in the way of people from other houses mingling all the while you were sneaking around—”

“That’s detention!” Percy said, cutting Marcus off with an air of finality. “And a report to Professor McGonagall recommending taking twenty points from Gryffindor!”

Marcus glowered, as did a great many of the other students. Jackson was giving Marcus a look that was at once apologetic, and grateful. Harriet glanced around the room. Students were starting to move awkwardly toward the portrait hole. Others were giving Percy dirty looks as he turned and stormed off through the portrait hole.

Ronnie put a comforting hand on Marcus’ shoulder and at first he looked inclined to shrug it off, but he didn’t.

“Let’s just go down to breakfast,” Hermione suggested, trying to sound casual.

“You lot go, I’m gonna check on Jackson,” Marcus said and stomped off up the stairs to the boys dormitory.

Ronnie grimaced but Harriet hooked an arm in hers and together, she, Hermione, Ronnie and Kieran made their way down to breakfast. No one spoke the whole way. As they entered the Great Hall the first thing they saw was Pansy Parkinson and Pixie Fanfarró doing ridiculous impressions of fainting while the Slytherins surrounding them all burst out laughing.

“Just ignore them,” Hermione said in a lofty tone as they made their way to the Gryffindor Table.

“Beware Potter, beware!” Pixie shouted after her.

“The Dementors are coming! Coming for youuuuuuuu!” Pansy shrieked.

“Ignore them ignore them ignore them,” Hermione continued to hiss. As they reached the Gryffindor table Harriet saw Basheera was already there, sitting with Scott and Dora who had come over from their tables. Nearby Harriet saw Fred and George who were huddled in deep conversation with Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Erica Quoy.

They steered towards Basheera, Scott and Dora who smiled in greeting.

“Good morning,” Basheera said as they sat down around her.

“Morning,” Kieran said cheerfully.

“Well you missed an interesting morning,” Ronnie said rolling her eyes.

Dora glanced at the group of whispering fifth years. “So we heard…”

“What were they teasing you about?” Basheera asked Harriet, nodding towards the Slytherin table.

Harriet blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing, just those Dementor things searched the train yesterday and I sort of… well…”

“Oh, that is not very nice…” Basheera said looking genuinely sympathetic.

“No, it’s not,” Angelina growled, having overheard them. “Those two little cows weren’t all that brave about the search either, they came running into our compartment,” she went on nodding towards the other fifth-years.

“That little runt Malfoy was with them too,” George added.

“Yeah, just about wet himself,” Fred agreed.

“Didn’t feel too great myself,” George said. “Ruddy terrible, those Dementors.”

“They sort of freeze you from the inside out, don’t they?” said Fred.

“You know, you all keep telling me about how great the Hogwarts Express is and how I’m missing out on all the fun but I don’t know, this isn’t really helping your case in my mind,” Erica said, the corners of her mouth twitching as the other fifth years rolled their eyes.

“Still, we’ll wipe those smiles off their faces come the first Quidditch match,” Fred said, grinning hungrily.

Harriet smiled. The first match of every year was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, and Harriet had never lost to the Slytherins yet.

“So, were you really praying?” Ronnie asked bluntly, changing the subject.

Basheera seemed taken aback but not offended. Hermione closed her eyes and Dora groaned loudly.

“I… I was… yes…” Basheera said recovering.

“Sorry just kinda new to me, never heard of that before so—”

“Oh, it is fine,” Basheera said, smiling again. “Yes, I know it is not common in our world for people to hold on to their old beliefs. But I do not see them as conflicting.”

Harriet nodded but did not get time to digest this information as more outbursts from the Slytherin table drew everyone’s attention.

“Good lord, Van de Lakk, what the devil happened to you? So hope you don’t get a scar from that! I don’t think Hogwarts is big enough for two puffed-up, scar-headed Gryffindors, do you?” Draco Malfoy asked looking around at his surrounding gang who all broke out laughing.

Harriet looked at the door. Marcus, Jackson, AJ, Rachel and Tori had arrived. Marcus glared and his hands curled into fists. Jackson actually seemed to reach for his wand but stopped when another voice shouted from the Gryffindor table.

It was Fred. “Puffed up?” he called getting to his feet so Malfoy could see him. “Seems to me someone who stopped You-Know-Who and has won every Quidditch match she’s played in has earned the right to think a little highly of themselves. What about you then? Last I checked you were a runty little ferret whose only claim to fame is your ancestors’ money, just like your dad, and his dad, and so on—”

“ENOUGH!” shouted Professor McGonagall who was on her feet, glaring back and forth between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. “I will not have the Great Hall become the site of another free-for-all! Sit down and eat your food, everyone!”

The Great Hall suddenly went very quiet. Marcus and the rest awkwardly made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat. As the sound of clinking plates and soft muttering resumed Dora leaned over towards Fred.

“Nice one… wish I’d thought of that,” she said under her breath.

Fred gave her a smile then winked at Harriet. “Well someone had to say it for everyone to hear, some of us are just quicker than others.”

Dora rolled her eyes.

“How’s your eyebrow?” Ronnie asked Marcus.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Marcus said. “Might be a mark, but there was one there anyway. No harm done. Just might be a bit bigger now is all.”

“Well I for one,” said a new voice Harriet didn’t recognize right away, “think he was very brave standing up to the Head Boy like that.”

Harriet turned to see it was Nanette Sinistra who had just walked up to the table with her fellow first-year girls. Emma was at the back of the group, but gave a rare smile as she saw Dora and quickly moved to sit with her sister and the two began chatting rapidly in French. Harriet assumed Dora was asking Emma about her first night.

“Oh, thank’s Nanette,” Marcus said, blushing a little as Nanette beamed down at him.

“You’re welcome. I just think you did the House proud standing up against injustice like that.”

Marcus’s face went even redder. Harriet noted Ronnie’s was getting redder as well, but her expression was much different than Marcus’. Nanette simply smiled and moved on with her other new friends to sit further down the table.

George cleared his throat and leaned over Fred, holding out a stack of parchment to them. “Oh, here you lot are, your new time-tables.”

Marcus took them and passed them around.

“Oh good, we’ll have some new subjects today,” Hermione said excitedly. “Ooh Arithmancy first thing, wonderful.”

“What? No it isn’t. We have Divination first, don’t we?” Ronnie asked studying her timetable carefully.

“Oh, y-you’re right, silly me,” Hermione said and quickly stuffed her timetable into her bag.

Ronnie raised an eyebrow in bemusement while Scott and Dora both gave Hermione very shrewd looks. Harriet felt as confused as Ronnie looked but diverted her attention to Hagrid who had just entered the Great Hall and made his way to the staff table, passing them on the way.

“All righ’ you lot?” He asked beaming as he paused. “Yer gonna be in mah first ever lesson this afternoon, right after lunch! Not half excited I don’t mind tellin’ yeh, had something pretty good planned but now got summut even better for you all. Right Lee?” Hagrid asked, giving Jackson a knowing wink.

Jackson flushed and swallowed but nodded.

Hagrid chuckled. “Hope it goes alright… me a teacher… can you believe it?” Hagrid turned and continued on to the staff table.

Everyone turned to look at Jackson, but he was clearly ignoring them all.

“I take it you’re not going to fill us in on what the “better” plan is?” Dora asked.

“Nope,” Jackson replied curtly taking a bite of eggs.

AJ grinned to herself. Harriet fished around for something else to ask. “So, um, how do you like Hogwarts so far?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jackson said. “You know, outside the obvious.”

He nodded towards Percy who was currently at the Ravenclaw table with his girlfriend, Penelope.

“Try living with him,” Ronnie grumbled.

Jackson laughed. “Touché!”

Harriet smiled. She felt good seeing him laugh and smile, it was good to know he could after all he’d been through.

“So, is it true,” Dora asked. “You don’t remember the attack at all?”

Jackson’s smile faltered and AJ gave Dora a burning look.

“Come on, can’t ya’ll just leave him alone about that?” AJ asked but Jackson shrugged.

“I… I remember bits and pieces of it… I mean… I remember the Secessionists taking over the town, I remember the Unionists marching in, but after that, nothing.”

“Nothing?” Rachel asked.

Jackson shook his head. “Nothing… not till I sort of woke up in the middle of nowhere and that’s when Epeius’ herd found me.”

“You know, I’m curious about that. Of all the names you could have given him, what made you pick Epeius?” Scott asked.

Jackson blinked at him as though he didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“Well it’s just such a formal, different name, isn’t it?”

Jackson shrugged. “No idea, I didn’t name him.”

“Then who did?” Hermione asked.

Jackson looked down at the table and started shovelling bacon on to his plate. “You’d have to ask him.”

Harriet and her friends all looked at each other. Confusion was written over everyone’s face. Ronnie looked at Jackson as though she wanted to press the subject but the dangerous look on AJ’s face seemed to quell her interest.

“So Rachel,” Hermione asked, changing the subject. “I know it’s a touchy subject too, but have you heard from your brothers at all this summer?”

To their surprise, Rachel actually smiled. “Oh yeah, I just got letters from both of them.”

Harriet noted how Rachel said “both” instead of “all.” The youngest of Rachel’s brothers, Sean, was fighting for the Secessionists, and Rachel had only ever mentioned him once the previous year when she had come to Harriet for help in pre-emptively fighting off a panic attack in the middle of the night.

“How are they?” Kieran asked.

“Aaron’s okay. It sounds like the war’s starting to wear on him. His commanding officer was killed over the summer so he’s been commanding his company ever since even though he’s only a lieutenant. He didn’t seem like himself...” Rachel trailed off. “Crazy to think about, like, my brother, in command of a whole company, he’s only twenty. He said they might promote him soon to captain even.”

Marcus whistled. Rachel gave another little smile.

“Blaine’s okay too. He’s a non-combatant though, like I think he’s a mail-clerk. He keeps talking about feeling useless, but I don’t know… I feel worried enough with one brother in harm’s way, let alone two…”

An awkward silence followed. Harriet didn’t know what to say and focused on her breakfast. However, she did happen to catch a glimpse of Jackson. His face was taught, his hands clenched on his fork and knife and his eyes were boring into Rachel though she didn’t notice, having turned to talk to Erica. It wasn’t a threatening look; it didn’t even look like his eyes were in focus.

“Well better eat up, those of us heading to Divination got a long way to go, it’s all the way at the top of North Tower,” Ronnie said, distracting Harriet.

“Good luck, let us know how it goes,” Kieran said, smiling.

Of her main group of friends, only Harriet, Ronnie and Hermione had signed up for Divination, and so it was only those three who began making their way across the castle towards North Tower. Fortunately they were joined by Rachel and Tori who had also signed up for Divination. As Rachel and Tori both knew the way to North Tower, they made good time. However, it still was quite the trek, up winding staircases and down long corridors that Harriet had never taken before.

“You two sure there isn’t a shortcut?” Harriet asked, breathing heavily.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Tori said smiling back at her.

“We told you, we know the way to the tower by heart—” Rachel started to say but broke off and suddenly curtsied at a portrait and began speaking in a refined, fluttery voice. “Oh, good morning to you, Sir Cadogan! How goes the defence of the realm?”

Harriet blinked and looked at the portrait Rachel had curtsied to. In the portrait was a squat, diminutive knight in a full suit of armour glaring at a dapple-grey pony that was grazing lazily. There were bits of grass and sod stuck to the knight’s armour in odd places, and Harriet was sure he had just fallen off the horse. He turned at the sound of Rachel’s voice and jumped in surprise but his face broke into a wide grin and he bowed.

“Good morning to you my dear gentle ladies! And how are you Lady Kane and Lady Hoffman, and who might I enquire are your charming friends?”

Rachel barely held back a giggle as she gestured to Harriet, Ronnie and Hermione. “This, my brave knight, is Lady Potter, Lady Weasley, and Lady Granger.”

“Weasley!” Sir Cadogan gasped and actually got down on one knee as he bowed to Ronnie. “A proud family you come from my dear! A proud family indeed! My most dearest friend is from your noble house!”

“Oh, i-is he?” Ronnie asked, taken aback.

“Yes indeed, my dear young lady, and I dare say you do your noble line proudly,” Sir Cadogan said. “The loveliness of your flaming red hair speaks openly of the fire in your soul.”

Ronnie’s face went red as her hair. Sir Cadogan smiled around at them all. “Now my dear ladies, how may I be of service to you?”

“Well it is ever so good we have run into you, dear knight,” Rachel said, still in her fluttery voice. “We are on our way to the North Tower—”

“Say no more my dear young maiden! I shall escort you forthwith! Onwards!” Sir Cadogan shouted and drew his sword, which was too long for him and nearly toppled him over. He then tried and failed to mount his pony and instead cried out: “On foot then my gentle ladies! ON! ON!”

And before anyone could say anything more he turned and ran off into the neighbouring portrait.

Harriet blinked. “What just—?”

“Come on!” Rachel said excitedly and started running off after Sir Cadogan.

Tori smiled and ran off too. Harriet, Ronnie and Hermione all looked at each other before they started running too.

“Is it just me or did that bloke just call me pretty?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah, that’s how I interpreted it,” Rachel replied.

Ronnie beamed and they kept going. Harriet looked around at the other girls as they ran. Rachel didn’t look the least bit tired as she led the group. Ronnie looked only slightly more winded than Rachel did, but not by much. Tori looked as winded as Harriet felt, but to Harriet’s surprise, despite carrying twice as many books Hermione also seemed to be handling the run well. Harriet again remembered noticing how Hermione had seemed so much more fit after this past summer and vowed to remember to ask her about it.

Finally, they stopped halfway up a long spiral staircase leading to the top of what they knew to be North Tower. They stopped here as apparently there were no further portraits for Sir Cadogan to lead them through. They thanked him, all doing their best to act ladylike and grateful before Sir Cadogan bowed and clanked back off to his portrait.

“You know? Didn’t you two already know the way?” Ronnie asked Tori and Rachel. “Was any of that necessary?”

“Not really, but it was fun,” Rachel replied, giggling.

“You kinda have to act like that around Sir Cadogan anyway,” Tori said, catching her breath as they continued up the stairs. “He’s sort of really into that whole being a knight thing.”

They finally reached the top landing. There was a good portion of the class there already. By the looks of it, most of Gryffindor house’s third years had signed up for it. Harriet remembered Scott teasing her over the summer, telling her most people took Divination because it was “easy.” Harriet didn’t know, she had only picked it because Ronnie had picked it.

However, it became very clear very quickly that not all picked it because it was easy. Parvati and Lavender looked beside themselves with excitement for the class to start.

“Just imagine all the things we’re going to learn!”

“Omigosh, the future, we’re going to learn how to see the future!”

“I know!”

Dean, Seamus and Neville were looking at Parvati and Lavender with dumbstruck faces.

“So… where’s the classroom?” Hermione asked, looking around.

Rachel gave a superior smirk, the same kind Ronnie so often gave, and pointed at the ceiling. Harriet, Hermione and Ronnie all looked up. There was a trap-door in the ceiling with a small brass plaque that read: Sybill Trelawney, Divination Teacher.

“So… how do we get in?” Seamus asked.

The moment he asked, the trap-door swung open and a thin, silver ladder lowered to the floor.

“After you,” Dean said prodding Seamus in the back.

Seamus rolled his eyes but climbed the ladder. Everyone followed one-by-one until finally Harriet made it up into the room. It was by far the strangest classroom she had ever been in; in fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all. It looked like someone had tried to set up a tea-shop inside their attic. It was filled with almost two dozen small, circular tables crammed in between plump, chintz armchairs and poufs. The curtains were closed over the windows and the lamps hanging from the ceiling were draped in red scarves which gave the room a reddish hue.

Furthermore, it was quite warm, sweat already starting to form on Neville’s forehead as the class began to sit down. There was a blazing fire going in the fireplace that was heating a large copper kettle, the steam from which smelled perfumed. There was a cupboard full of pink and blue teacups and shelves ran all along the circular walls were full of odd items such as feathers, candles, ragged old playing card packs, dozens of silvery crystal balls and countless teapots.

“Welcome,” a soft, misty voice said, causing Harriet to jump as she went to sit down in one of the arm chairs.

The class turned as one to see Professor Trelawney step into the middle of the room, finally illuminated by the light of the fire and the hanging, shrouded lamps. She was very thin, wearing long, green robes and a spangled shawl. She wore so many necklaces Harriet was surprised she could support the weight, and she had large glasses which made her eyes appear twice their natural size.

“How nice to see you all in the physical world at last,” Professor Trelawney said.

Harriet was still too taken aback to respond. She had never seen this woman before, not even at the meeting last spring when Professor McGonagall had called all the staff to discuss the revelation that Slytherin’s Monster was a basilisk. This puzzled Harriet. If Professor Trelawney was the Divination teacher, shouldn’t she have seen the attacks coming and known what the monster was already and who the attacker was?

“Welcome to Divination,” Professor Trelawney continued, having taken a seat of her own in the largest, winged armchair next to the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. I doubt many, if any, of you have seen me before. It is very rare that I descend into the raucousness of the main school, the chaotic nature clouds my inner-eye, you see?”

Harriet and Ronnie looked at each other. Hermione was looking at Professor Trelawney with bemusement.

“Now, perhaps it would be best to give you all a short introduction into the nature of this course. Many people take this class believing it to be ‘easy.’ This could not be farther from the truth. Indeed, quite the opposite, divination is by far the most difficult branch of all the magical arts.”

Harriet swallowed. Hermione was now chewing her lip in thought as she watched Professor Trelawney.

“I would also point out, that if you do not possess the natural Sight, the essence and aura necessary to be a Seer, there is very little I can teach you. This is not a class one can learn by simply burying their nose in a book.”

At this, the entire class all swivelled in their seats to look at Hermione. Hermione was now wide-eyed, looking as though Professor Trelawney had just slapped her.

“You dear?” Professor Trelawney said pointing at Neville who squeaked in shock and nearly fell off his pouf. “How is your grandmother?”

“Uh, she’s fine, I think,” Neville replied. “Do you know her?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be so sure that she is so well, my dear. You should send her a letter as soon as you can,” Professor Trelawney said. Neville whimpered.

“We will simply be working on the basics this year. This is, what one might call, the make-or-break, year, where we separate the gifted from the mundane. Today we will begin with reading tea-leaves, but then will move on to palmistry—oh and dear?” Professor Trelawney shot at Parvati, “beware those with sandy-hair.”

Parvati shot a nervous look at Seamus Finnigan and edged away from him slightly. Seamus glowered.

“After palmistry, we shall work on fire omens before proceeding to crystal balls. That may be delayed however as there will be a rash of flu in February which will cause me to lose my voice.”

“But there’s always a rash of flu right after the holidays,” Hermione hissed just loud enough for Harriet and Ronnie to hear her.

Harriet blinked and realized that was true. She turned her attention back to Professor Trelawney.

“And finally, around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.”

The class went dead silent at this announcement. Professor Trelawney did not seem to notice as she turned on Lavender who flinched.

“I wonder dear, could you pass me that largest silver teapot just there over your head?”

Lavender let out a sigh of relief before turning to fetch the teapot off the shelf on the wall behind her.

“Thank you dear. Oh, and that thing you’re dreading? It will happen on Friday the 15th of October.”

Lavender whimpered.

“Now, if you could all please pair up and each take a teacup from the shelf, come to me and I will fill them from my teapot. Sit at your tables and drink the tea until only the dregs remain. Once the tea has been drunk, swill the dregs around three times anti-clockwise with the left hand, place upside down on the saucer and allow the rest of the tea to drain from the cup and the dregs. Once that is completed, turn your teacup right-way up again, and hand it to your partner to interpret. The guide to interpreting the patterns can be found on pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move amongst you assisting as needed.”

The class rose but she quickly caught Neville by the arm. “Oh, my dear, after you’ve broken your first cup, would you please be sure to select another blue-patterned one? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

Professor Trelawney's prediction about Neville’s first tea-cup came true within a minute. She reminded him to pick a blue one as finally Harriet and Ronnie made it back to their seats and sat. Hermione, meanwhile, went to join Neville. The two girls drank the piping hot tea as fast as they could, eager to start. They followed the rest of Professor Trelawney’s instructions and finally Harriet had a go at interpreting Ronnie’s tea leaves.

“Well… first thing I’m seeing is—”

“You mean besides loads of soggy brown stuff?” Dean whispered. Harriet didn’t really want to, having never quite got on with Dean, but she sniggered nonetheless.

“Broaden your minds, my dears! Allow your eyes to see past the mundane and the physical!”

Harriet gave her head a shake. The heat and the heavy perfume had made her drowsy.

“Okay, let’s see… you’ve got a sort of… wonky… cross… I think… ummmmm,” she consulted the textbook. “Which means ‘trials and suffering,’ well that’s no fun.”

“Yeah not really,” Ronnie muttered. “Anything else?”

“Well… this one looks kind of like the sun,” Harriet said. “Which means… ‘great happiness,’ so… I guess you’re going to suffer but in the end you’ll be very happy… unless it means you’re going to be happy but then suffer… or… be happy and suffer…”

“Think your inner-eye needs to look in Miss Momori’s eye-glass maker too,” Ronnie teased and Harriet giggled.

“Okay, do mine now!” Harriet said, excitedly.

“Okay,” Ronnie said studying closely. “Well… I see a blob that, to me anyway, looks like a bowler hat. Maybe you’ll work for the Ministry or something… I don’t know, there’s no bowler hat in the book.”

Ronnie twisted the cup. “But here it looks like an acorn…”

“Great, I’m a squirrel,” Harriet muttered making Ronnie snort.

“Shut up, shut up,” Ronnie hissed glancing at Professor Trelawney. “No, the book has an acorn, it means ‘a windfall, unexpected gold,’ well that’s handy.”

“Oooo maybe it’ll be enough for a Firebolt?” Harriet grinned.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “And now there’s this thing here… it sort of looks like an animal… it… it kind of looks like a dog—”

“Let me see that cup my dear,” Professor Trelawney asked.

Harriet and Ronnie both jumped realizing Professor Trelawney was standing over them, holding out a hand to Ronnie. The whole class went very quiet and watched on with interest as Professor Trelawney inspected Harriet’s cup.

“The falcon… you have a deadly enemy it seems, my dear.”

“Well everyone knows that,” Hermione hissed. Professor Trelawney looked at Hermione, blinking slowly.

“Well, they do…” Hermione said. “Everyone knows about Harriet and You-Know-Who.”

“Indeed my dear, but that is not the point of the exercise, is it?” Professor Trelawney countered. “That does not change the symbol in the tea-leaves, nor its meaning, does it?”

“N-no… well… I guess not,” Hermione muttered.

The whole class was staring at Hermione. None of them had ever heard her speak out against a teacher like that.

Professor Trelawney returned her attention to the tea-cup. “The club… an attack… dear, dear, this is not a very happy cup is it?”

“I… I thought that was an acorn,” Ronnie muttered sheepishly.

“Ah and there is the skull. There is danger in your path my dear,” Professor Trelawney went on. Harriet shivered when Professor Trelawney gave the cup another turn and let out a terrible scream. Neville fell off his pouf, knocking over and smashing his second teacup.

“Oh no… oh no… oh this is terrible,” Professor Trelawney said as she made her way on shaky knees to her arm chair, sinking into it and resting a trembling hand on her heart.

“What is it, Professor?” Seamus asked eagerly.

“I… I shouldn’t say… it is kinder not to…”

“Not say what?” Lavender pressed.

“My dear girl… you have… the Grim!”

Parvati, Ronnie, Neville and Seamus all gasped. Dean, Lavender, Tori and Rachel however looked confused while Hermione looked sceptical. Harriet however blinked as the word triggered something in her memory. She had heard that name before.

“What’s the Grim?” Dean asked, nervously.

Professor Trelawney looked at him incredulously. “It is the giant, spectral, black dog that haunts church yards! It is an ill omen, an evil omen! The worst omen of… death!”

At the words black dog Harriet knew where she had heard the name ‘grim’ before. While running with Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins after their escape from Privet Drive, they had seen the massive black dog following them, and Professor Howe had called it a Gurt Dog, not a Grim. He had also said: “Many say that Black Dogs are ill omens, but they’re mostly misunderstood. They’re big and scary so people like to attach dark names to them: Barguist, the Grim, Gytrash, Padfoot.”

“I don’t think it looks like a Grim,” Hermione said coolly.

Professor Trelawney’s face was full of dislike as she looked up at Hermione. “Do please forgive my saying so, dear, but alas I perceive very little receptivity to the vibrations of the timelines within you.”

“But, how do you really know it’s a death omen?” Harriet asked. “I saw a big black dog this summer with… well… some friends. They said Black Dogs have many names, including the Grim, but they aren’t actually bad.”

Professor Trelawney now looked at Harriet with something like dislike. “And who were these ‘friends’ to question the delicate workings of the future and prophecy?”

Harriet glared. “Actually, it was Professor Sherrod Howe.”

The class all looked at Harriet. Some faces were confused, while others showed awe, or shock, or disbelief.

“You seriously met with Sherrod Howe… the Sherrod Howe?” Parvati asked, her eyes wide.

“Well… yeah, I mean I met him before. I met him in Professor Dumbledore’s office last year during the attacks. Anyway we were sort of, uh, traveling, and we saw one following us. He said it was a Gurt Dog and they protect travellers and children, and he told it that I was safe and it wasn’t going to be needed, so it left.”

The class was now staring at Harriet with wide-eyed fascination. Professor Trelawney looked even more irritable that no one was taking her sighting of a Grim in Harriet’s teacup very seriously.

“Professor Howe is adept at a great many things, my dear, but I cannot speak as to his talents as a Seer, I have heard none of them. The book clearly states that symbol is the Grim, and the Grim means Death. You are going to want to watch yourself, my dear, this does not bode well. While I hope your friend is right, what happens in the physical realm has no bearing on what I have seen. Class dismissed for the day.”

The class went about packing up for their next class in a sombre mood. Harriet could tell some were eager to ask more about her encounter with Sherrod Howe. Others, notably Ronnie, were still looking worried. Hermione meanwhile was looking furious.

“What utter rubbish!” Hermione declared the moment her feet touched the floor of the landing below.

Harriet didn’t respond, merely sped up to get away from any further questions as they made their way to Transfiguration. Her mind was whirling. Who was right? Was it Professor Howe, or Professor Trelawney? Professor Howe certainly seemed much more authoritative. Professor Trelawney had seemed to get a little too much enjoyment out of being mysterious and vague. But what if Professor Howe had just said that about the black dog so Harriet wouldn’t panic? Cornelius Fudge had said not to trust him.

Harriet shook her head. They arrived just in time for Transfiguration and Harriet quickly moved to sit with Kieran and Marcus who were waiting.

“How was—you okay?” Kieran asked, noticing the look on the three girls’ faces.

“Well, aside from Professor Trelawney just told her she was going to die, yeah she’s fine,” Hermione said. Her voice was dripping with irony.

“Oh, okay yeah that’s not so fun,” Marcus said. At that moment, Professor McGonagall entered the room and the class fell silent.

Harriet couldn’t focus. She kept going over Professor Howe’s words. He had said it was actually a good omen, and when he told the dog it wasn’t needed, it really had left. Though it had seemed reluctant to do so…

“Potter!”

Harriet jumped and looked up at Professor McGonagall who was standing over her, giving Harriet her trademark stare that made Harriet feel very, very small.

“What is with you today?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Harriet spluttered. Hermione raised her hand.

“Please, Professor, we were just having our first Divination class, and we were reading tealeaves and—”

“Oh of course, of course,” Professor McGonagall said, sounding exasperated and actually removing her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “Let me guess, she saw the Grim in your cup, didn’t she, Potter?”

Harriet blinked and nodded.

“I’ll have you know, Potter, that Professor Trelawney has predicted the death of at least one student a year since she started at this school twelve years ago. Take a wild guess at how many have died?”

“I would guess none,” Jackson said from the back of the room.

“That is correct, Lee,” Professor McGonagall said without looking at him. “Seeing death omens is Professor Trelawney’s favourite way to start a new class. I try and never speak ill of my colleagues, but needless to say I cannot very well teach my classes with my students terrified over false notions of their impending dooms. And so, since you appear in rather good health, I do hope you don’t mind if I don’t let you off homework today. It should go without saying that if you die, I will not require you to hand it in.”

Quite a few students laughed at this, Harriet included. Professor McGonagall returned to her lecture, which today was Animagi. Harriet continued to smile, and joined in eagerly with the class as they applauded when Professor McGonagall turned herself into a tabby-cat and back again. However, as Harriet looked around, clearly not everyone was reassured. Ronnie was still avoiding Harriet’s eye.

Most of the class was talking excitedly after Transfiguration, no longer about death omens, but about animagi. Harriet was surprised to see that it was Marcus and Kieran who seemed the most excited by the concept of animagi, and were talking excitedly with each other about what kinds of animals they would turn into if they could. Marcus wanted to turn into a falcon like his own falcon, Adal, so they could finally fly together. Kieran was less decisive, and just knew he wanted to turn into something else.

Harriet continued to smile as they made their way down to lunch. She had decided who to believe. She would continue to believe Professor Howe. He was a bit mad, a bit dashing, and very clever. And somehow, deep down, Harriet knew that of everyone she had ever met, Professor Sherrod Howe would never lie to her.

Chapter Text

“Harriet? Did—did you really see a big, black dog this summer?” It was lunchtime. Ronnie was still looking uncertain and stealing nervous glances at Harriet.

Hermione scowled. “Oh Ronnie, would you give that a rest? You heard Harriet and Professor McGonagall. Who are you going to trust; Professor Sherrod Howe and Professor McGonagall, or some crazy fraud like her?”

“How do you know she’s a fraud?” Ronnie retorted.

“Well, by the sound of it this whole “Grim” thing is sort of an old story with her,” Kieran reasoned. “I mean, Professor McGonagall knew that’s what it was straight away, didn’t she?”

“Yeah…” Ronnie admitted grudgingly.

“Oh Ronnie, just out with it will you?” Dora demanded. “What about it’s really bothering you?”

Ronnie scowled. “Well, what if it really was a death omen?!” she snapped. “And now I’ve gotta live with the fact I’m the one who saw it in my best-friend’s tea-cup!”

Everyone fell silent at this. Even Hermione and Dora looked sympathetic.

“Oh Ronnie, no one’s…” Hermione said, trailing off as she tried to find the right words. “You’re right, that isn’t good. All we’re saying is she’s probably wrong it’s a death omen. I mean—”

“Trelawney’s a hack,” said a nearby voice cutting Hermione off. Harriet turned and saw Tori, who was sitting nearby with Rachel.

“Totally, she’s as much a Seer as I am bigger than Tori,” Rachel added and Tori laughed.

“How do you know?” Ronnie asked.

Tori rolled her eyes. “Because we went to school with a real Seer. About the only thing Trelawney had right was that Divination is really difficult.”

“You went to school with a Seer?” Hermione asked. Now she was the one who sounded sceptical.

“Oh yeah,” Rachel said. “He was in our grade. He was really nice. He came from a really long line of Native Seers, one of the few true pure-blooded Native families left. His parents worked for the Tylers; lived on their ranch and cared for the horses.”

“Katy and Kenley, you mean?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah, he was like the middle child between Kenley and Katy,” Rachel said. “They were pretty much brother and sisters.”

“What… what happened to him?” Scott asked cautiously.

Rachel and Tori’s faces both fell. Harriet felt her heart sink. “Honestly… we don’t know… He might be in a camp or—”

“Don’t say it!” shrieked Katy, who had obviously been listening in. She got to her feet and glared. “Don’t you dare say he’s dead! He’s not! He’s NOT!”

“Katy!” Ginny exclaimed. She got up too and rushed to Katy along with the rest of Katy’s friends, all trying to calm her. Even Professor Sinistra came down from the staff table and put an arm around Katy’s shoulders, shushing her in a motherly way and guiding her from the Great Hall. Ginny and the rest followed. An awkward silence followed as everyone watched the retreating group.

“Well, let’s all head down to Hagrid’s,” Hermione said trying to smile. “We can finally figure out what the surprise is and get some fresh air. That’ll help us all feel better.”

“Agreed,” Dora replied, smiling excitedly. “Come on, sour-puss,” she said hooking an arm under Ronnie’s and trying to pull her to her feet.

Ronnie rolled her eyes and rose. Harriet smiled and they bid Scott a good afternoon before making their way out the front doors and into the grounds. In spite of Professor Trelawney and Ronnie’s fears, Harriet just couldn’t be worried. She knew Sirius Black was after her, but somehow here with her friends, going to classes, living the normal routine of her life, she couldn’t help but smile.

Hagrid was waiting for them when they arrived at his cabin. He looked beside himself with excitement, rocking back and forth on his feet impatiently.

“Come along now!” he called cheerfully. “Got an incredible lesson for us today; a truly unique experience. Never dreamed in my lifetime I’d get ter meet one but I got ter spend a whole two weeks learnin’ ever’thing I can about him and his kind. So rare he’s not even in yer books!”

“Not that we’d know,” drawled Draco Malfoy.

Harriet closed her eyes, praying for patience. Hagrid blinked in confusion. “What’s that yeh say?” he asked.

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters from his bag, which he had belted shut. Several other students drew out their copies the book as well. Everyone had their books either belted, tied, or taped shut.

“N-none of yeh’ve been able ter open yer books?” Hagrid asked, his face falling.

Everyone shook their heads, even Hermione. Hagrid spluttered in exasperation.

“Yeh got ter stroke ‘em!” he said and picked up Hermione’s copy. He pulled off the tape and the book began snapping immediately. However, Hagrid held it easily and ran one giant finger down its spine. The book shuddered and fell limp. Hagrid smiled handing it back to Hermione.

“Oh goodness, how silly we were not thinking of stroking a finger-eating book,” Draco grumbled.

“I-I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said awkwardly.

“Oh yeah, a right laugh, they are,” Draco said.

“Well, it is pretty sensible in the end when you think about it,” someone else spoke up. Harriet turned and saw that it was Jackson who was walking around the corner of Hagrid’s cabin, AJ walking alongside him.

“Animals usually respond a lot better to kindness than to aggression and force,” AJ said giving Malfoy a disapproving look.

Jackson walked over and picked up Hermione’s book. He smirked at Malfoy and turned the book around showed everyone the back cover.

“Never mind the fact that ‘Stroke spine to open’ is written on the back cover if you’d taken the time to look at it,” he said.

Harriet pulled her copy out, feeling it tremble as it attempted to free itself from the coil of clothesline. She looked at the back and realized he was correct. In fact, it was the only thing written on the back cover. Harriet started to feel a bit foolish. Malfoy however looked livid as he glared at Jackson.

“Well, quite right yeh are, Lee,” Hagrid said clapping Jackson hard on the back, nearly making him drop Hermione’s book. “Oh, sorry. Well anyway, don’t need ter bother with yer books today. Like I said, your surprise isn’t in there anyway. Follow me.”

Hagrid turned and led them all around the corner of his house, where Jackson and AJ had come, the two following close behind. Harriet started after them with the rest of the class. Behind her, she could hear Malfoy muttering with his group of cronies.

“What is it with these American riff-raff and getting on with that great oaf?” he asked. “First that ‘Coy’ girl or whatever the hell her name is—”

“Oh don’t give me that, Malfoy,” said a Slytherin boy with dark-red hair who Harriet did not know by name. “You couldn’t take your ferrety eyes off her last year.”

“No one asked you, Mallory!” Malfoy snapped.

“She is half-blood, you know,” added another tall black boy, his eyes glittering with malice. “So she is at least partly qualified.”

Beside Harriet, Dora was smirking. “Welcome to the joys of Slytherin house.”

“Do they always squabble like this?”

“Oh yes,” Dora’s friend Sae said smiling. “Not that you should go counting Wright and Mallory friends because they are picking on Malfoy. They just really do not like Malf—ooooooooooo that is pretty,” Sae finished changing subjects halfway through and pointing.

Harriet turned to look. They had come around the back of Hagrid’s hut and were now just outside his vegetable patch. In the middle, pulling up a fresh carrot from the dirt and sniffing it with great interest was the horse who had accompanied Jackson to McIntyre Manor that summer.

“Oh, should have guessed,” Kieran said shaking his head. “He is a fine specimen though.”

The horse looked up at the students, his black, fathomless eyes panning the group as he munched on the carrot lazily. Just like back at McIntyre Manor, Harriet felt the strong sense of intelligence coming from the horse, but she still found the inability to tell what expressions it was making disconcerting.

“Right, this here is our big surprise for the day,” Hagrid said, about to pat the horse on the shoulders but it managed to duck out of the way in time and prance to the side.

“What, a horse? Oh yes, terribly thrilling,” Draco drawled sounding bored.

There was no guessing what the horse was thinking as his eyes narrowed and his ears folded back. He was staring straight at Malfoy, who also seemed to notice. He swallowed and shifted uncomfortably as the horse unmistakably glared at him. Harriet found the horse’s expressions even more unnerving than before.

“Oh not just any horse,” Hagrid said. “Can anyone—er, you excluded, AJ and Lee—tell me what kind’er horse Epeius here is?”

“A Clydesdale?” Malfoy said, drawing sycophantic sniggers from his gang.

“Oh shut up, Malfoy,” Harriet hissed.

“Shouldn’t you be passed out by now, Potter? We’re awfully close to the Dementors now you know?” Malfoy quipped back.

“A Clydesdale you say?” Hagrid asked. Harriet couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. “Well then, iff’n yeh know so much, why don’t yeh come up here and tell us all about ‘im then, eh?”

Malfoy suddenly looked a great deal less confident, but he hitched his usual sneer back onto his face as he stepped forward.

“Alright then, professor, my mother has taken me riding before. As long as you know what you’re doing it’s no problem dealing with horses, they’re not the brightest animals, you know?” he called back over his shoulder to the rest of the class. “You approach it calmly from the front so it can see you, and—”

“Boo!”

Draco let out a cry of surprise and landed on his back in a puddle of mud leftover from yesterday’s rain. Harriet blinked looking around unsure at first of who had spoken. The horse, Epeius was prancing about and someone was laughing, a strange, deep laugh though it felt light and joyful.

Harriet’s jaw fell wide open. It was the horse. Epeius was laughing.

“Who’s not very bright you said?” Jackson asked Malfoy, his face full of glee as Epeius cantered about, his head held triumphantly high.

Malfoy glared at the horse and scrambled to his feet. As he did, he stuck his hand in his pocket and began to draw his wand. “I’ll teach you to—”

“To what?” Jackson asked, stepping between Malfoy and the horse. He had his own wand drawn already and his face had lost all of its playful nature. He looked ready to curse Malfoy without a moment’s hesitation.

Hagrid quickly stepped in between them and AJ rushed to Jackson pushing his hand down.

“Hey now! Wands away! No need fer that here! It was just a little joke there, Malfoy. Epeius didn’t mean anything by it,” Hagrid said, looking both angry and nervous.

“Maybe a little,” Epeius said, his long face sticking around Hagrid’s side to look at Malfoy.

Harriet gave her head a little shake. It was a talking horse; a real, true, talking horse. She had seen many strange things during the last two years since she learned she was a witch. Harriet knew she had the ability to speak to snakes, but that was a special power she had received from Voldemort, according to Professor Dumbledore. But this was different. This horse could actually speak.

Hagrid gave Epeius a look and the horse simply snorted and stepped around Hagrid to look at the class. Jackson and Malfoy slowly put their wands away and Malfoy backed up to re-join his gang. He handed his robes to Crabbe who tried awkwardly to shake the mud off of them.

Harriet returned her attention to Epeius who was still surveying the class. Finally he took a breath and spoke again. “Yes. I can speak. My name is Epeius. I am an Areion; an American Areion.”

“But,” Hermione started, flipping through the glossary of The Monster Book of Monsters, “but there are Areions listed in here, Hagrid.”

“Right, but not Epeius’ kind of Areion. People thought they’ve been extinct for ages,” Hagrid explained.

“A misconception we’ve tried to keep going over the centuries,” Epeius said. “But now that the war is going on, people back home have bigger oats to chew than a long-lost species of talking horses.”

Harriet raised her hand.

“Yes, Harriet?” Hagrid asked.

“But, I don’t understand… when I saw you this summer, why didn’t you talk then?” she asked.

Epeius gave off a little snort that might have been a laugh. “Well, I learned pretty quickly once I got Jackson to civilization that being a talking horse seems to upset people who aren’t expecting you to be a talking horse.”

“Heh yeah I could see that,” Marcus muttered. “Guessing that’s why you never spoke around me either?”

“The very same reason,” Epeius replied.

“Okay, so he’s a talking horse, big deal,” Malfoy said, apparently trying to get his own back. “What’s so special about that? There’s magical species of bird that can do that too.”

“But I doubt you’d find even a handful of them that could fly as fast as Epeius can run,” Hagrid said, smiling down at Epeius. “Or carry as heavy of loads. Even the hairs of their manes and tails are nearly unbreakable.”

“I’ll say, you should have seen how hard the lady who made my new wand this summer had to work to get one of Epeius’ tail hairs for the core,” Jackson said, holding his wand up.

Quite a few of the other girls around the group giggled, even Pixie, though she quickly stopped when Malfoy and Zabini gave her a dirty look.

“Wasn’t that funny,” Jackson muttered putting his wand away and looking sheepish again.

Hagrid chuckled but Hermione, who hadn’t laughed, stepped towards Epeius. “Excuse me, Mr Epeius, but I would like to ask, how did your kind get to America? Do they speak of it in your stories at all?”

The class fell silent and listened in. Epeius just kept looking at Hermione and again Harriet was visited with the frustration at not being sure what he was thinking. He seemed to have some human expressions, mostly around his eyes, but he didn’t seem to be able to frown or smile. Harriet then wondered if she was glad he couldn’t, as the sight of a smiling horse just might have been too much.

Finally, Epeius answered. “Of course they do,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Then, how?” Hermione asked. “Because from what I’ve read about life in Palaeolithic North America all native horse species died out until they were reintroduced by European settlers.”

“Well, there you have your answer then,” Epeius said.

“So you came with European settlers? The Spanish, English or French?” Kieran asked.

“The Spanish. Spanish wizards liked to keep an Areion or two in each herd as they explored.”

“Why was that?” Parvati asked.

“And if you were brought by the Spanish, why don’t you speak Spanish?” asked Lavender.

“¡Yo hablo español, señorita!” Epeius replied, sounding offended.

“Oh, that was flash,” Lavender muttered.

Epeius chuckled again and turned back to Parvati. “As for why the Spanish liked having us around, well, you can’t really talk to normal horses, can you? So having a few of us about to act as intermediaries I’m sure was useful.”

“Then when did you all learn English?” Zabini asked, sounding torn between curiosity and scepticism.

“Well it was necessity. Frankly, the Spanish lost, and we weren’t overly fond of them anyway. Our job was to survive. The tongue of the newcomers was English, and so we adapted.”

“Heh, an animal talking about evolution? I like that,” the boy Mallory said.

Epeius turned to Mallory. “Is the need to walk on two legs necessary to noticing the continual passing of seasons, or the aging of trees, even the coming and going of people’s? Oh yes, we know all things change.”

“Do… do you mean the Natives?” Hermione asked. She was barely audible.

“Yes,” Epeius said simply. “The proud Sioux. They were probably the finest horsemen in the entire world, so many tales we have of their skills from the backs of our brothers.”

“‘Brothers?’” Dean Thomas asked. “Didn’t you ride with them?”

“No.”

“Why not?” asked Seamus Finnigan.

Epeius gave a nicker that might have been a laugh, Harriet couldn’t quite tell. “We had gone through quite enough while living under the Spanish. We didn’t like the uses that the Spanish put us too, and we weren’t that anxious to just replace one human master with another. While the Sioux may have been slightly better than the Spanish, they still would have put us to use riding into battle against their fellow man and hunting our fellows, such as the bison.”

“So, does your kind remember anything before the Spanish?” Hermione asked.

Epeius didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be thinking. “You know, we don’t really have many stories of that, just that the Spanish brought us from across the sea.”

“Hmmm,” Hermione muttered thoughtfully.

Ronnie stepped forward now. “So, Hagrid said you can run really fast?”

Epeius snorted and Harriet could not decipher that reaction, but Jackson’s face broke into a wide grin.

“You all wanna find out just how fast?” Jackson asked.

Most of the class nodded excitedly.

Hagrid grinned. “Alright then, who’d like ter volunteer?”

“Volunteer?” Pansy Parkinson asked nervously.

“Fer a ride,” Hagrid replied.

Most of the class now looked nervous instead of excited. Epeius’ ears drooped a little and Jackson’s face fell. “Well, it just doesn’t quite get the point across watching him run,” Jackson said, stroking Epeius’ mane in a comforting way.

Harriet looked long and hard at the horse and finally stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

Hagrid beamed and Jackson blushed but smiled.

“Doesn’t he need a saddle?” Harriet asked.

AJ shook her head. “Not Epeius. You won’t find a smoother ride anywhere. And he’ll never throw a rider.”

“Unless I want to,” Epeius said.

Jackson laughed. “Nor would you get him to consent to wear one.”

“Not in a hundred years.”

“Okay then,” Harriet said, not entirely reassured as she stepped closer. “How do I…?”

“Here ya go,” Hagrid said and held out a hand just high enough for Harriet to step on and get to the right height to get on Epeius’ back.

Harriet stepped up onto his hand but then looked at Epeius awkwardly. “Er, any particular way I should sit?”

“Any way you want,” Jackson said. “Like AJ said, he won’t throw you.”

Harriet nodded and threw one leg over Epeius’ back. It wasn’t exactly lady like, but it put her in mind of riding her broomstick at least. Epeius was warm and breathed deep and slow under her. She flushed feeling a little silly.

“Just squeeze his sides a bit and lean forward,” Jackson said.

“O-okay,” Harriet said, looking back out at the class. Most of the Slytherins were looking sceptical, while Pansy and Pixie were looking downright malicious. Malfoy had a look on his face that Harriet couldn’t quite place. Was it worry? There was no mistaking the looks of worry on the faces of Lavender, Parvati and Ronnie. Kieran however was smiling at her proudly and Hermione had a slight look of jealousy. Neville looked terrified.

“Okay, so, um… whenever you’re ready,” Harriet said, trying to be polite as she could, feeling awkward enough already.

Epeius turned his head and looked at her. Harriet blinked as she stared back into his shiny black eye. Epeius looked away again.

“Sure you’re ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harriet said and leaned forward a little more.

“Alright then. Three, two, one!”

The next thing Harriet knew, the wind was whipping her hair behind her head. Epeius seemed to move just as smoothly as a broomstick as his legs flashed and thudded rapidly. She couldn’t even hear the individual sound of the hoof-beats, it was just a constant drone.

AJ had been right, despite the speed she didn’t feel as though she was going to be thrown at all. She didn’t even need to hold on as Epeius shot off around the castle and tilted hard, rounding the corners with ease despite his speed. Even then, Harriet had a strange suspicion that Epeius was not going as fast as he really could.

Finally they got around the back of the castle and were starting to come up on the lake. Harriet gasped. Epeius wasn’t about to do what she thought he was going to do. The horse closed on the lake with alarming speed and Harriet closed her eyes waiting for the splash.

It didn’t come. Harriet opened her eyes and saw that Epeius had managed to turn without her noticing and was running along the lake shore instead. Harriet felt her lips curling into a smile in spite of herself. She attempted to ask Epeius if he could go faster but her voice was lost in the howling wind.

However, at that moment Epeius began to slow down, skidding on his hooves in the mud. He came to a halt and his head was swinging wide from side to side, his ears flickering all around, his eyes wide and alert.

“Something wrong?” Harriet asked.

“They’re coming. We have to go back.”

“What’s coming?”

Epeius looked back at her. “Dementors.”

Just then, Harriet felt a chill begin to run down her back, spreading out through her body. Epeius spun and took off once more, churning the mud and dirt beneath his hooves as he shot back up the shoreline. Harriet felt the chill ebbing away as they headed back towards Hagrid’s hut. Harriet smiled smugly as they shot underneath the Whomping Willow, much too fast for it to react; swinging its dangerous branches harmlessly after them.

Epeius skidded to another stop in front of the class and everyone gaped.

“Wow, what was it like?!” Dean asked excitedly.

“I’ve never seen anything move that fast!” Kendra Hwang, a Slytherin, said.

“Can I try next?!” asked Hermione, looking breathless with wide eyes.

“One at a time now, one at a time,” Hagrid said chuckling. “Harriet went so that was one Gryffindor, let’s give a Slytherin a go this time!”

Harriet beamed as Hagrid helped her down off Epeius. More than anything, she was happy that by the looks of things, Hagrid’s first lesson was a huge success.

Harriet grunted trying to comb her hair as fast as she could. She had slept hard that night after so little sleep the previous few. She was finding it difficult to believe that only three days ago she had been only a block away from a giant explosion that killed over thirty people. And then yesterday she had met and even ridden a horse that not only could talk, but could also run faster than Harriet had ever flown on her broomstick.

Once more, it looked as though Basheera had left early for prayer. Harriet and the others had dressed quickly. They were all excited because today was their first day of History of Magic with Professor Stratton. The new professor did seem quite austere from the few times they saw him at meals, but as far as Harriet was concerned, anyone teaching History of Magic had to be better than Binns.

They took a longer time reaching the History of Magic class, as it was no longer held in the same classroom. While most students, Parvati and Lavender in particular, were chatting excitedly, Hermione alone seemed indifferent to the change of staff.

“What’s wrong with you, Hermione?” Parvati asked. “We have a new professor who looks interesting and smart.”

“And tall and dark and muscly,” Lavender added in a dreamy tone.

“Well Professor Binns was interesting and smart, if anyone had cared to pay attention,” Hermione said defensively.

“Well we did try,” Marcus said. “The stuff he was saying I’m sure was real interesting if anyone else in the world had been saying it. And the way he just read everything out of the book, it was so lazy. Most the stuff I learned in that class I learned just reading the book on my own.”

Hermione sniffed sticking her nose in the air. “And I certainly wouldn’t just pay attention over something as trivial as looks.”

“Lockhart!” said Ronnie, though she attempted to make it sound like a sneeze. Quite a few of the surrounding class laughed openly.

Hermione glared at Ronnie. “Oh shut up. I stopped believing in his qualifications as a teacher the moment he was rude about Kieran.”

Harriet shrugged. “Well—”

“Okay, well that was the turning point at least!”

There followed an awkward silence when finally Basheera spoke up. “He just would read from the book?” she asked Marcus, changing the subject.

“Oh yeah,” Ronnie cut-in with an ever-suffering voice. “It was awful! It only took five minutes and I was out like a light.”

Basheera giggled.

At that moment, the door swung open and Professor Stratton was there. Harriet swallowed. Seeing him from across the Great Hall had not done justice to just how tall Professor Stratton truly was. She was used to very tall people, being such good friends with Hagrid. Yet somehow Hagrid did not have quite the presence that Professor Stratton did. Harriet found she couldn’t take her eyes off of his. She was anxious to see if they flashed greenish-silver again as they had the first night.

Finally, Professor Stratton’s face broke into a wide smile. His teeth were very white and straight, which reminded her for a fleeting moment of Lockhart, but Professor Stratton’s smile was much more genuine.

“Welcome. Step inside and take your seats please,” Professor Stratton said and stepped back for them to enter.

Harriet took a seat at the front with Hermione, Ronnie, Marcus, Kieran, Basheera and Neville. Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati took their usual seats in the back of the room while Rachel, AJ, Tori, and Jackson sat right behind Harriet and her friends.

Professor Stratton shut the door and strode to the front of the room. Harriet looked around the new room with interest. The walls were lined with books, which Harriet noted Hermione was eyeing with keen interest. There was also a great deal of magical artefacts, many Harriet didn’t recognize.

“Well, greetings and welcome to our first History of Magic class together. As I learned too well in other classes yesterday, I can see we have quite a bit of work to do, but first I suppose we could start with any questions you all have,” Professor Stratton said looking around.

Harriet had questions, but mostly she was taken aback. He had given Harriet the impression of being another Professor McGonagall or Snape. But he was beaming around expectantly, standing behind his desk and rocking on the balls of his feet pleasantly.

True to form, Hermione’s hand was the first in the air.

“Yes?” Professor Stratton asked.

“Well, I was just wondering sir, Professor Dumbledore said you’ve come out of retirement, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem to be of retiring age.”

Harriet looked at Hermione in surprise. That wasn’t the question she would have thought to ask and she looked back at Professor Stratton, hoping he wasn’t offended. However, Professor Stratton simply smiled.

“Well, I retired from teaching it is true. And you don’t need me to tell you, Miss Granger, that looks are certainly deceiving,” he said, a chuckle in his voice.

Hermione flushed. Harriet felt a little surprised. This was the first she had ever spent in real close contact with Professor Stratton and he already knew their names?

“I ceased teaching as a profession shortly before you were all born. Which I know seems centuries ago but really once you get to be my age it is perhaps the blink of an eye,” Professor Stratton said.

“Did you teach History of Magic then too, sir?” Tori asked.

“I did, as a matter-of-fact,” Professor Stratton said. “It has been my lifelong passion. Dumbledore requested me to come give Professor Binns’ a well-earned holiday for a few years as a favour. I taught from the fall of Nineteen Seventy-One to the summer of Nineteen Seventy-Eight.”

Kieran raised his hand now. “So, that means you knew my parents then?”

“Oh yes, Mister O’Brien,” Professor Stratton replied. “And yours, Mister Longbottom, and of course you too, Miss Potter. Heh, I admit I gave your father and his friends more than my fair share of detentions while here.”

Harriet blinked and opened her mouth to reply but Parvati was quicker.

“What was Professor McGonagall like back then?” Parvati asked with interest.

“Oh much the same as far as personality goes,” Professor Stratton said in an offhand tone.

“Do you remember any other professors?” Lavender asked.

“Well naturally I remember Professor Dumbledore and Flitwick—oh, Miss Weasley, your parents graduated shortly before I began, so while I have met them I did not have them as pupils—I also recall some of your professors from when they themselves were students here. I knew Professors Lupin and Snape back when they were wee first-years,” Professor Stratton explained.

“Oh jeez, Snape was a kid too once upon a time? That’s a terrifying thought,” Dean quipped from the back of the room, causing a few giggles.

“Well yes, everyone was a child once upon a time,” Professor Stratton said calmly. “Even Voldemort himself.”

A wave of gasps swept over the room at the sound of the name. Tori looked around at everyone who had gasped with annoyance. “Oh seriously you all, it’s just a name!”

“Yeah, the name of the most evil person to ever exist!” Seamus shot back.

Tori opened her mouth to reply but Professor Stratton held up a hand. “Now, now,” he said quelling the room. “No call for that. A name is a name. Simply a word used to give meaning to an object or idea, nothing more. Anyway, does anyone have any other questions?”

This time, it was Jackson who raised his hand.

“Yes, Lee?” Professor Stratton asked.

“Well, Professor, I have my friend Epeius here, and he had his first sort of outing getting to know the students yesterday in Professor Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class… and while it was going on, Granger brought up a good point… Epeius doesn’t know anything about his people’s history—”

“People? He’s a horse—” Seamus said cutting Jackson off but Professor Stratton gave him a quelling look and he fell silent.

“Go on, Lee.”

“Well, he doesn’t know anything about how his people really came to be, like, before the Spanish brought them to America.”

Professor Stratton nodded and walked around in front of his desk before leaning back against it. “And so you were hoping I could shed a little light on that?”

“Well, yeah,” Jackson replied.

Professor Stratton stroked his chin in thought. “Well, that is a rather interesting story, entwined in the magical history of ancient Greece.”

“Ancient Greece?” Marcus asked, his eyes going wide with excitement.

“Indeed. In fact, despite Professor Binns’ original lesson plans of studying witch burnings, I figured topics such as Ancient Greece would be much more instructive and interesting, and probably a great deal less depressing.”

“Can’t say fairer than that,” Dean agreed.

“However, I’m not entirely sure they will be the answers your friend is looking for,” Professor Stratton went on with a sombre look at Jackson. “Unfortunately, much of the magical history of ancient Greece has become so entwined with mythology and folklore it is very difficult to separate the legends from the facts. So I’m afraid much of what I can tell you is conjecture only.”

Jackson shrugged. “Anything’s better than nothing,” he said.

“Well… people always used to say the Chamber of Secrets was just a myth but Harriet sure proved that wrong last year,” Ronnie said, actually looking excited.

Professor Stratton gave a short laugh. “Well, what have you all been taught about Greek mythology?”

Immediately, Hermione’s hand punched straight up into the air.

“Miss Granger?”

“Yes sir, there were the main Greek gods, the Olympians, who took over after Cronus and the Titans. They were noted for being very human in their personalities but incredibly powerful. The leader was Zeus, who controlled lightning. Though if you were to ask me since he could control earthquakes I’d say Poseidon should have been the most powerful—”

“Okay, okay,” Professor Stratton said chuckling. “Definitely know enough, Miss Granger, considering Greek mythology was not a part of the curriculum until now.”

He cleared his throat and looked around the class. “Yes, most of Greek mythology is dominated by the tales of the Olympians who overthrew Cronus and the titans to take over controlling the mortal world from their home on Mount Olympus. Each had a certain aspect of the natural world or Grecian life that they were purported to control. Often they were picked as patrons for certain cities, such as Athena who was the patron of Athens. Incidentally, I should note the Roman name for Athena was of course…?”

Professor Stratton gave Hermione an expectant smile and Hermione beamed. “Minerva!”

“Precisely. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, that is the very brief version to get us going. We’ll go into more detail in the following days but it is sufficient I think for us to start there, because we must also understand that is the Muggle version of that history,” Professor Stratton went on.

“The Muggle version?” Marcus asked looking even more interested.

“Indeed. It does coincide rather strongly with the magical accounts, however, in magical accounts it appears to be unlikely the Olympians were actually gods and goddesses.”

The whole class fell silent at this.

“Then, what were they?” Kieran asked.

“Why, most modern magical historians theorize they were in fact witches and wizards.”

“You mean… you’re not seriously suggesting they were real?” Hermione asked, her mouth hanging open. “Real people?”

“Well, it is a very strong possibility. There is much of the ancient magical world that we do not know. Many records were purged around the time of the creation of the Statute of Secrecy. The magical world went into hiding and never looked back. It’s only been recently that we have started looking back and trying to unlock the mysteries. However, there is very compelling evidence that the figures such as Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Athena, did in fact exist thousands of years ago. They may have existed at the very birth of Greece, and so even within a few generations of their deaths, and perhaps even within their own lifetimes, they could have been witches and wizards of such extraordinary power they created their own legends in their own time.”

“But sir, that’s just crazy!” Dean spluttered. “To think we wouldn’t even know that the Greek gods were real—”

“And goddesses!” Rachel snapped.

“Right, sure. Anyway, I mean, how could we not know that!?”

Professor Stratton leaned back on the desk again. “What year was Hogwarts founded?”

“Uhhhhh…” Dean blinked thinking hard.

“Right. We don’t even know what year the school which you are attending at this very moment was founded. Until very recently it wasn’t known that the Vikings had made it to the American continents almost half a millennia before Columbus made his voyage,” he paused and leaned forward speaking in a hushed voice, “though to be fair to both, obviously the Native Americans ‘discovered’ North America many millennia before even the Vikings.”

Tori and Hermione giggled.

“Okay, so, the Greek gods—and goddesses,” Jackson said with a nervous look at Rachel, “what does that have to do with Epeius?”

“Well, because according to most legends, the Areions were created by the Olympians—I think we can consider that our politically correct name for them—though the legends are a little hazy as to which of the Olympians were directly responsible. Most accounts however say he was sired by Poseidon with the goddess Demeter.”

“You mean like they did, you know, and gave birth to him?” Parvati asked, sounding revolted.

“Well, that is the legend version of the story at least. More likely, Demeter and Poseidon, if we accept the witch/wizard hypothesis, created the Areions, most likely as war-steeds,” Professor Stratton explained.

“Well that would fit,” Hermione said. “Most people who encounter them seem to want them for that purpose according to Epeius himself. The Spanish, the natives…”

“Precisely,” Professor Stratton agreed.

“Heh, not sure Epeius will like that…” Jackson muttered.

Professor Stratton sighed. “I wouldn’t think so. Often that is the reason humans dabble in the affairs of other species. Not even just the magical world. Would the myriad of dog and cat breeds exist outside mankind’s intervention? Do you think sheep and cows just evolved through natural processes? But I would still tell him to take heart. After all, it’s not always about where you came from, but about whom you are. Perhaps they were bred as beasts of war, but haven’t they become something much more? They have their own culture and their freedom. They escaped what they were. Tell him that and that he should be more proud of his people now than he was before.”

Jackson beamed, and Harriet felt her heart glow. She had been uncertain of Professor Stratton before, but that was such a “Dumbledore-ish” thing for him to say she could not help but smile. In spite of all the worries, of having had tragedy happen only a few days before, somehow in that moment, Harriet knew good things were going to happen that year. Very good things.

Chapter Text

Harriet was trembling with excitement as they headed towards their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Lupin. Harriet couldn’t remember being this excited for a class before. Not even the lousy Potions class she had sat through that morning could dampen her spirits. Behind her, Harriet’s friends were still muttering angrily about Professor Snape.

“I still agree with Ronnie, you should have just lied,” Harriet heard Marcus grumble. “There was no way he could have proven it was you.”

Harriet grimaced. As per usual in Potions, Neville had gone to pieces and made his potion improperly. To “encourage” Neville to do the potion properly, Snape had threatened to feed some of Neville’s potion to his toad, Trevor, saying it would likely poison the amphibian. Hermione, despite Professor Snape’s orders not to help, had whispered the instructions to Neville when Professor Snape wasn’t looking, with the result that the potion did work properly in the end. Professor Snape wasn’t fooled.

“Come on! We’ll be late for our first Lupin class!” Harriet called over her shoulder excitedly to change the subject.

“Coming! We’re coming!”

After two years of professors the likes of Lockhart and Quirrell, Harriet was anxious to study the subject under a teacher who really seemed to know what he was doing. While Harriet had not actually witnessed him drive off the Dementor on the train, the fact that so many of her friends had seen him drive the Dementor off was good enough for Harriet.

Her interest in the subject had grown over the summer, following her altercation with Tom Riddle’s memory in the Chamber of Secrets. Her resolve to study the subject as hard as she could had been encouraged by the news that Sirius Black was after her in an attempt to convert her to the Dark Arts. She knew the only way to fight that was to become as good at Defence Against the Dark Arts as she possibly could, and she was beside herself with eagerness to begin.

When they arrived, Professor Lupin was nowhere to be seen. After they settled in, quills at the ready his absence started to feel strange. Harriet kept making a fuss of arranging everything the right way on her desk, drawing amused looks from her friends. She wanted to make sure that Professor Lupin was in no doubt that Harriet was a model student.

It was only another minute before Professor Lupin entered the room. His briefcase and clothes were still shabby and worn, but Professor Lupin himself looked in much better health and spirits as he set his briefcase on the deck and turned to smile at them all.

“Well, I am pleased to see how eager you all are for class to begin,” he said as his eyes scanned the room. Harriet felt her chest swell slightly. “But I’m going to have to ask you to put your things away and follow me. We’re going to have a practical lesson today, and so all we shall need is our wands.”

The class began to murmur as everyone put away their books and writing utensils and rose to follow Professor Lupin. He led them down the corridor, but paused as they rounded a corner. Harriet did her best to peer between Dean and Seamus’ shoulders in front of her to see what the hold-up was.

It was Peeves, the Hogwarts poltergeist, whose sole purpose was to cause mischief and mayhem throughout the castle. At the moment, he was floating upside down and stuffing chewing gum into the keyhole of a door. Peeves was concentrating so intently he didn’t notice Professor Lupin was there until Professor Lupin was only a couple feet behind him. At which point he spun right side up and danced about in the air.

“Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin!” Peeves chanted.

Everyone looked at Professor Lupin except for Harriet who was glaring at Peeves. While Peeves was generally rude and took orders from no one, he would usually show at least a little respect to the teachers. Professor Lupin continued to smile placidly.

“I would take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Otherwise Mister Filch won’t be able to get to his brooms.”

As Peeves was in a constant war with Filch, the bad-tempered Hogwarts caretaker who seemed to think his entire purpose in life was to punish students and Peeves for any infraction imaginable, this reprimand did not achieve the desired result. Instead, Peeves simply blew a loud raspberry before returning to his dance and “Loony, loopy Lupin” song.

Professor Lupin sighed and drew his wand, albeit reluctantly. He turned back to the class and gave a half-smile.

“This is a useful little spell, please watch closely.”

Professor Lupin turned to Peeves once more and pointed his wand at the gum jammed in the keyhole. “Waddiwasi,” he said and gave his wand a flick towards Peeves.

The gum shot from the keyhole and flew straight up Peeve’s left nostril. Peeves cried out in rage, attempting to dislodge the gum. He shook a fist at Professor Lupin and swooped off down the corridor, cursing loudly.

“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Seamus Finnigan said reverently. Harriet then remembered their very first day of classes two years ago, when Peeves had grabbed Seamus’ nose through a door.

“Thank you, Seamus,” Professor Lupin said as he pocketed his wand.

They continued down the corridor until they came to the door to the staffroom. Most of the class was giving Professor Lupin looks of near reverence over his seemingly effortless defeat of the pesky poltergeist, who had given them such trouble over the last two years of schooling.

Professor Lupin opened the door and ushered them all inside the room. The room was long with panelled walls. There was a long table with enough chairs around it for all of the Hogwarts staff, a large wardrobe, and a fireplace surrounded by mismatched armchairs. In one of the chairs sat Professor Snape who was reading through a stack of essays.

Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed but his lips curled into a sneer as the students entered the room. He gathered up the essays and held up a hand to Professor Lupin. “Leave it open, Lupin, I would rather not witness this.”

Professor Lupin smiled obligingly and stepped aside. As Professor Snape reached the door he paused and turned back to look at the students.

“I should warn you, Lupin, that this class contains Neville Longbottom. I’ll advise you not to trust him with anything too difficult,” he turned to leave but paused once more and gave the class another unpleasant sneer. “Unless of course Miss Granger is whispering instructions in his ear.”

Neville and Hermione flushed while the rest of the class glared. Harriet actually opened her mouth to say something to Professor Snape but Professor Lupin spoke up first.

“I see. Well, I was going to request that Neville assist me with the first phase of today’s lesson,” Professor Lupin said before turning and smiling warmly to Neville. “And I am sure he will perform his role admirably.”

Neville’s face went from red to white so rapidly Harriet was sure he was going to faint. Professor Snape continued to sneer but said no more before he finally left the room. Professor Lupin wasted no time, clapping his hands together eagerly and smiling at them.

“Right then!” Professor Lupin said and led them to the end of the room to the large wardrobe that Harriet had hid in during her first year. Professor Lupin stood next to the wardrobe and as he did it shuddered and wobbled as if something inside was struggling to get out. Quite a few students, Harriet included, took a step back.

“Now, now, no need to worry,” Professor Lupin said in a calming tone. “It’s just a Boggart.”

Most of the class looked as though they disagreed there was no need to worry. Neville swayed a little and Jackson and Marcus grabbed his arms propping him up. Parvati and Lavender both took large steps back and even Seamus looked nervous.

“Boggarts favour dark, tight spaces for their homes. Wardrobes, as we see here, are very common, as are the spaces under beds. The latter of course being how they played a critical part in the legend of the ‘bogeyman’ amongst Muggle cultures,” Professor Lupin explained.

“I knew he was real!” Marcus said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The joke did not seem to go over so well with most of the other students from wizarding families, but Harriet and Hermione laughed.

“Well, in a manner of speaking,” Professor Lupin said, chuckling. “Anyway, this particular boggart moved in yesterday afternoon and I received permission from the headmaster to allow it to stay so that I could give my third year students practice at dealing with them. Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart is?”

Hermione’s hand shot upwards. “It’s a shape-shifter. It takes the shape of whatever the person facing it fears the most. Because of this, no one knows just what exactly a boggart looks like.”

“A most excellent explanation,” Professor Lupin said. Harriet was sure she could feel the heat coming from Hermione’s face as she beamed. “It is safe to assume that the boggart within the wardrobe has not assumed an appropriate form, as it does not know who it is facing. I will admit I do feel awkward teaching how to deal with boggarts in Defence Against the Dark Arts, as they are not technically a dark creature. However, they are often used by those who practice the dark arts to protect valuables and stores of dark objects.”

Neville spluttered again and Jackson rolled his eyes at him. “Come on, you’ve got to stand-up for yourself sometime.”

“However,” Professor Lupin said calling the class’ attention back, “I will say that we do have a distinct advantage over the boggart already before we have even begun.”

Harriet jumped as Professor Lupin said her name. “Harriet, I wonder if you’ve spotted our advantage?”

Harriet thought. She had been caught off guard by Professor Lupin’s direct question, and having Hermione bouncing up and down next to you as you tried to think was difficult at best. Harriet however thought she saw the answer.

“Well, I’d say for one thing we already know that it’s a boggart and not whatever scares us most,” Harriet replied and looked around the room. “Oh! And since there are so many of us here, it’ll be confusing for the boggart to know what form to take.”

“Precisely,” Professor Lupin replied. “Thus, I will strongly recommend that in the event you do run into a boggart, even if you only suspect it to be a boggart, to bring company along. Two or three people minimum I should say. In that event the boggart will be confused, as it is very rare for even two people to have the exact same fear. So instead, the boggart becomes confused and attempts to scare both at once. After all, should it become a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug?”

Professor Lupin chuckled. “In fact, I saw a boggart once make that very mistake and became a headless slug… which of course was not remotely frightening. Now, the charm that repels a boggart is quite simple, but it requires a strong force of mind. When you say the incantation, you must be thinking of the thing you fear the most in a manner you find comical. This is because the one thing that finishes a boggart is laughter.”

“Laughter?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean,” Professor Lupin said. “Laughter: the ultimate counter to fear. Now wands out everyone, we will practice the charm first before I let the boggart out. Now everyone repeat after me: Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus!” repeated the class.

“Very good,” Professor Lupin said, “but that was the easy part. This is where we shall turn to Neville for our demonstration.”

Neville stepped forward, trembling head to foot as the wardrobe continued to rattle angrily.

“Now Neville, the first thing we must tackle is, what do you think is the thing that scares you most of all?”

Neville looked as though he was trying to reply, but no sound was coming out.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that?”

Neville took a deep sigh and hung his head. “Professor Snape…”

Most of the class laughed at this. Harriet saw that even Neville was giving everyone apologetic smiles.

“Hmmm… Professor Snape you say…” Professor Lupin muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully studying the wardrobe. “You live with your grandmother, do you not, Neville?”

“Um-y-yes… but I’d rather the boggart not turn into her either!”

“Oh no, not what I meant. I was in fact wondering what sort of clothes she wears, perhaps if she wishes to look especially fancy?”

“Oh!” Neville spluttered eagerly. “Oh I know one! She has this big tall hat with a stuffed vulture on it she wears everywhere, and a long green-dress with a fox-fur scarf!”

“Hmmmm, a handbag to go with it?”

“Yeah, a big red one!”

“I see…” Professor Lupin said thoughtfully. “What I need you to do Neville is to picture those clothes very carefully. Do you see it?”

Neville closed his eyes and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good, now, when the door opens, the boggart will come out and attempt to drive you off by turning into Professor Snape.”

Neville’s face fell once more and he swallowed.

“Once it does, you will raise you wand like this, pointing it at Professor Boggart Snape, and while concentrating very hard on your grandmother’s clothes, cry out Riddikulus! If you perform the charm correctly, the boggart will assume the form of Professor Snape wearing that hat, green dress, fox-fur scarf and big red handbag!”

Everyone, Harriet included, broke out laughing. The wardrobe wobbled and rocked again.

“When Neville succeeds, I will call him back and send another forward. While it is best to tackle a boggart in pairs at the same time, there is no guarantee you will always encounter a boggart with a partner or two. So I must now ask all of you to think very hard of the thing that scares you the most, and imagine how you would make it appear comical.”

The class nodded and everyone closed their eyes to think. Harriet closed hers as well and tried to think of what scared her most in the world. It was an odd moment of humility for Harriet as she realized just how many things there were in the world that scared her. First she thought of Lord Voldemort, both as a nose-less face sticking out of the back of Professor Quirrell’s head, then young, sixteen year old Tom Riddle with murder in his eyes. The next image to come to her head was Sirius Black kneeling before her, grinning and calling her ‘My Lady.’

However, the moment Harriet thought of a way to make that scene comical, Sirius Black kneeling before her, wearing chains and looking devastated at having been defeated by a thirteen year old girl, another even worse image crept into her mind. A slimy, scabbed, rotting hand disappearing into the sleeve of a cloak, a gasping, rattling breath and the deepest cold she had ever known in her life.

“Right then, everyone ready?” Professor Lupin asked.

Harriet jumped and felt her fear grow. She definitely wasn’t ready, but she didn’t think she could admit to it. She had no idea how to make a Dementor less frightening. On top of that, everyone else was taking off their robes in preparation to take on the boggart. Harriet grimaced; she was about to fail in her very first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, she just knew it.

“Very well then, Neville, we’re all going to back away to give you a clear field,” Professor Lupin said. The class backed away leaving Neville in the middle of the room. He was trembling and his face was drained of colour, but his hand was gripping his wand tightly and he was rolling up his sleeves.

“I’m going to count down from three, Neville,” Professor Lupin said and he pointed his wand at the handle of the wardrobe’s door. “Three—two—one—go!”

Red sparks shot from Professor Lupin’s wand and struck the handle. The door flung open and from the wardrobe’s depths stepped the unmistakable figure of Professor Snape. His eyes found Neville and he began reaching into his robe, bearing down on Neville.

Neville took a couple steps backwards but finally just as the boggart Professor Snape was drawing his wand, Neville managed to squeak: “R-r-r-r-riddikulus!”

Most of the class jumped as a sharp crack like a bullwhip split the air. Professor Snape stumbled and looked down at himself in shock. Harriet’s jaw fell open at the sight of Professor Snape indeed wearing a very tall hat topped with a stuffed vulture, a long lacy green dress, and a huge red handbag.

The class burst out laughing. The boggart looked about confused and Professor Lupin smiled. “Excellent, Neville! Excellent! Parvati, forward!”

Neville joined the class and Parvati stepped forward. Unlike Neville, her face was set and determined as she pointed her wand at the boggart. The boggart turned its attention to her and with another loud crack became a looming mummy, covered in bandages and raising its arms menacingly towards Parvati.

“Riddikulus!”

The mummy went to take another step but at that moment one of the bandages at its feet unravelled and it tripped, landing face first and its head popping off, bouncing about the room like a football.

“Seamus!”

Seamus actually ran forward, and with a crack, the headless mummy became a floating woman with long black hair the brushed the floor, thin greenish skin stretched over her skeleton. It was a banshee. Her eyes began to glow menacing as she took in Seamus and opened her mouth wide. A long, pitiful, wailing scream began to fill the room that raised the hairs on Harriet’s head and caused more than a few students to stuff their fingers in their ears.

“Riddikulus!”

The banshee gasped and clutched her throat. Seamus had taken away her voice.

“Basheera!”

Basheera moved up to the boggart. Basheera’s boggart was the strangest so far. After the loud crack, instead of some terrifying monster, the boggart seemed to have become an ornate box sitting on the ground perched upon a stack of beautiful silken fabric. The lid popped open on its own and revealed a large pile of gold within.

“Riddikulus!” Basheera shouted and with another loud crack, the box turned into a music box, playing a tinkling, merry tune.

“Adele, go!”

AJ stepped forward now. The boggart cracked again and this time became a massive rattlesnake, its tail rattling rapidly and its fangs bore. In spite of herself, Harriet tried to hear what the snake was saying but AJ was too quick for her.

“Riddikulus!” she cried and the snake bounced into the air, took its own tail in its mouth and began to roll around the room like a hula-hoop.

Next was Lavender whose boggart was a giant, blood covered eyeball that turned into a beach ball.

“Tori!”

Tori stepped forward. The boggart cracked and became a figure that Harriet knew only too well. A tall, thin man with a pale, round face, long black hair, and wearing a pure-white suit. It was Solomon Kinney, the man Harriet had seen in the Leaky Cauldron, the man who had only days ago killed thirty people. He sneered at Tori wickedly and started towards her.

“Riddikulus!” Tori shouted. There was another crack and the boggart Kinney stumbled backwards. His white suit was now covered in red stains as if he had been pelted by a crowd with rancid tomatoes.

“Kieran!”

Kieran was the first who Harriet thought might fail. As he stepped up to the boggart it cracked once more and in the place of Kinney, there now sat a wheelchair. Kieran froze looking down at it as it slowly began rolling towards him as if blown by a non-existent breeze.  Just as Harriet thought he was going to make a break for it, Kieran pointed his wand at the wheelchair and cried: “Riddikulus!”

The wheelchair stopped and then rocked back on its two large rear wheels. It started to do tricks and wheelies, spinning about the circle of students. Dean actually jumped forward on his own now, without waiting for Professor Lupin.

“My turn!” he shouted and with a crack the wheelchair became a giant, disembodied hand. It scuttled towards Dean like a crab but with a confidant “Riddikulus!” the hand ran into a mouse-trap, flopping around clattering loudly.

“Rachel!” Professor Lupin said.

As with Kieran, Harriet was very sure that Rachel wasn’t going to succeed. The boggart turned into a body. It was the body of a young man, perhaps in his early to mid-twenties. He wore a light tan uniform that Harriet did not recognize. His eyes were wide, blood trickling from his open mouth.

Rachel had frozen. However, it was not just her reaction that caught Harriet’s eye. It was Jackson. He was staring at the dead man on the floor but his eyes were vacant, out of focus.

“Riddikulus!”

Harriet returned her attention to Rachel and the boggart. The man who had once been lying clearly dead, had leapt to its feet and was dancing around tauntingly.

“Ha-ha!” the man cried and his grin put Harriet rather in mind of Fred and George. “Got you that time! You so bought it!”

Harriet looked back at Rachel. She had tears in her eyes, but she was very clearly smiling.

“Ronnie, your turn!”

Quite a few people, Harriet included, gave shrieks of fright as Ronnie’s boggart assumed its form. A six-foot tall spider materialized in the middle of the room, hairy and clicking its fangs as it took steps towards Ronnie.

Harriet felt the strong impulse to run forward and grab Ronnie back from the monstrosity but—“Riddikulus!”

There was a skittering sound and Harriet gasped to see the spider was now wearing roller skates on each of its long, spindly legs. Many students laughed as it kept trying to get to its feet but kept flopping on the floor, unable to stand.

“Marcus, your turn!”

Marcus looked confident at first but his face soon changed as the boggart turned into a severe looking woman. She was half a head shorter than Marcus, with short, dirty-blonde hair, and quite rotund. There was also a scent of heavy perfume on the air. She was looking up at him with great disdain and holding out a pill bottle.

“You need to take your medication you nasty little whelp. Spent good money on them to keep you adjusted and now—”

“Riddikulus!” Marcus shouted.

The woman continued to berate him but paused and looked around. There was a hissing noise that Harriet couldn’t locate at first but then gasped looking at the bottle in her pudgy hand. It had turned into a stick of cartoon-style dynamite. The woman’s eyes went wide as the wick burned down all the way. There was a loud bang and the woman disappeared in a cloud of billowing black smoke. It settled on the floor leaving the woman looking frazzled and covered head-to-toe in black soot.

“Jackson! You’re next!”

By the look of things, Jackson had recovered himself. He stepped forward, trying to smile and raising his wand towards the woman who vanished in a loud crack. Everyone looked around. There wasn’t anything to be seen. Harriet blinked. Did that mean Jackson was afraid of nothing? Surely that couldn’t be right, given the look on Jackson’s face when the boggart had turned into who could have only been one of Rachel’s brothers.

Harriet looked at Jackson again to see him once more looking rigid, almost like a statue. He was looking down at the floor and Harriet followed his gaze. There, in the middle of the floor, lay a shiny, black revolver, much like the kind she had seen on the westerns Dudley would watch.

Jackson’s wand clattered to the floor. He first took two steps back, then a step forward as he slowly raised his hand towards the gun.

“No-no,” Professor Lupin said and grabbed Jackson hard by the shoulders, pulling him back from the revolver on the floor. Jackson seemed to come to his senses, looking shocked and ashamed of himself. Everyone seemed distracted by Jackson and no one was paying attention to the boggart anymore. Harriet swallowed and decided to take her turn. She stepped towards the revolver, raising her wand towards it, waiting for it to assume the form of a towering, terrifying, hooded Dementor.

“HERE!” cried Professor Lupin behind her. Harriet felt Professor Lupin brush past her and the boggart was blocked from view but over Professor Lupin’s head she could see a large, silvery orb rising towards the ceiling.

“Riddikulus,” Professor Lupin said almost lazily and there was a popping noise and the boggart began to rocket around the room like a balloon with a hole in it. The remainder landed with a flump in the middle of the room.

“Alright Neville, let’s finish it off!”

Neville positively charged forward now. Harriet caught only the briefest glimpse of Professor Snape before Neville pointed his wand and shouted full and loud: “Riddikulus!”

There was another loud crack and Professor Snape was once more wearing the green dress and hat. Neville gave a boisterous “HA!” and the boggart burst into a dark cloud before rocketing back into the wardrobe, the door slamming shut and trembling as if frightened.

The whole class broke out in applause.

“Excellent, Neville! Excellent, everyone!” Professor Lupin said applauding everyone as well. "Let’s see, five points to everyone who tackled the boggart, ten to Neville because he did it twice, and five each to Hermione and Harriet.”

“But, what did we do?” Harriet asked.

“You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class,” Professor Lupin said. “For homework, please read and summarize the chapter in the text on boggarts over the weekend and hand them in to my office on Monday. Good day to you all. Jackson, if you might remain behind so we can have a word?”

The class filed out of the staffroom, talking excitedly. AJ kept stealing nervous glances over her shoulder at Jackson and Professor Lupin, but it didn’t look as though Jackson was in any trouble. Instead Professor Lupin had pulled up chairs for them both and was talking to Jackson in a hushed, fatherly tone.

Harriet wasn’t feeling near as cheerful as the rest of the class. There was no mistaking it; Professor Lupin had deliberately blocked her from facing the boggart. He had said after they arrived at the castle from the Hogwarts Express that Harriet was really strong, hadn’t he? Why would he take her chance to prove herself then?

No one else was paying any attention, which suited Harriet. They were all chatting merrily about their boggarts and how they had defeated them.

“I wonder why Professor Lupin’s afraid of crystal balls, though?” Harriet overheard Lavender ask the group at large.

“Future’s a scary thing maybe?” Dean suggested.

“Either way, that was easily the best Defence Against the Dark Arts class we’ve ever had,” Marcus said. “Bar none.”

“He does seem a very good teacher,” Hermione agreed. “I just wish I could have had a turn too…”

Harriet sighed in agreement. It was then she noticed that one person did seem to be paying her attention. Kieran was giving her a questioning look. Harriet decided she didn’t actually want to talk about what was happening and instead said she needed the rest room.

She diverted into the girls toilets on that floor and again sank onto a seat. As this wasn’t Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, she was quite alone with her thoughts. She was supposed to be The Girl Who Lived, wasn’t she? Someone brave who everyone looked up to. She had faced and survived Lord Voldemort three times now. She had killed a basilisk. Yet somehow this year she could not get a hold of her courage anymore. She felt unsure of herself. Again the face of Sirius Black drifted into her mind, as did the faces of Aunt Marge and Solomon Kinney.

“Freak!” she heard Aunt Marge cry again. Maybe that was it; so much of what had happened had rocked her to her core, had been so personal. The words Aunt Marge had shouted at her had attacked her character in a way no one had ever said before. Even Tom Riddle had been accepting of Harriet’s little fantasies, hadn’t he? Harriet pushed that thought from her mind, and shivered.

Then there was Sirius Black. Since she had joined the magical world, the thought of using the Dark Arts had never occurred to her. The thought of Sirius Black wanting to turn her into another Dark Lord like Voldemort possibly terrified her just as much as the Dementors.

And finally there was Solomon Kinney, who had nearly killed her just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was this more than anything that made her feel the most vulnerable. There were people looking out for her to protect her from people like Sirius Black and Lord Voldemort. Even Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, had shown up to save Harriet at the last minute from Tom Riddle and his basilisk. But who out there could possibly save her from an attack like Kinney’s? It was the first time in her life that Harriet came to accept one fundamental fact about herself. She really was mortal.

After another couple of minutes, Harriet got to her feet again. She washed her face in the sink, forced a smile back on her face, and left the bathroom to join her friends once more.

Chapter Text

“He’s not leading us into the forest, is he?!”

It was the following Monday. They were now in their second Care of Magical Creatures class and once more Hagrid was giving them another ‘surprise.’ However, something about Hagrid’s giddiness seemed to fill Harriet with dread rather than excitement. It was the same giddiness he’d shown when fawning over the baby dragon he had named Norbert.

In spite of this, Harriet was pleased to hear the thinly veiled terror in Malfoy’s voice as Hagrid led them past his hut and towards the trees that marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest. However, instead of going into the forest, Hagrid moved along the edge of the trees, leading them to a small, empty paddock.

“Right then, you all stay here and I’ll go get ‘em,” Hagrid said and headed off into the forest.

“Ugh, I can’t believe that beast is actually a teacher now,” Pansy Parkinson grumbled.

“Can’t your father do something about him, Draco?” Pixie Fanfarró asked in a whiny, pleading voice.

Hermione grunted in disgust.

Dora smirked maliciously. “Bit hard for your dad to do anything about it now isn’t it, Malfoy? Getting sacked as a school governor and all? Fortunately they found a much better person to replace him, didn’t they?”

Most of the Gryffindors laughed, as did Dora’s other Slytherin friends. Malfoy and his cronies glared back. Lavender Brown diffused the situation by giving off a squeal of excitement and pointing in the direction Hagrid had walked. Hagrid was returning, but he wasn’t alone. He was walking with Rachel’s fifth-year friend and fellow refugee, Erica Quoy. Behind them were five of the most bizarre creatures Harriet had ever seen.

Had Harriet seen each half of the creatures individually, she would have found them familiar. The back half was normal enough: the haunches and slender, hoof-footed legs of horses. The front halves were more disconcerting.

Their hair turned to feathers and enormous wings sprouted from their shoulders. Their front legs were not those of horses, but of eagles; covered in thick feathers with scaly feet bearing curved six-inch long talons. The head was the most striking. Instead of horse heads, they had the heads of eagles, with steely-grey beaks and bright orange eyes.

Hagrid and Erica were leading the beasts by a thick leather collars on long chains. Erica had one of them, which had a coat the same grey as a storm cloud, while Hagrid led the others, two chains in each hand. They led the creatures towards the waiting students, most of whom took understandable steps backwards as they approached. They tied the chains to the fence and Hagrid turned beaming down at the class.

“Hippogriffs!” he declared with excitement as he held out a hand to the beasts. “An’ aren’t they beau’iful?”

“I’ll say,” Erica said patting the grey hippogriff’s beak and giving a wave to Rachel. Harriet glanced sideways at Malfoy and couldn’t help but grin to see his face going red and the two other Slytherin boys, Thomas Wright and Damien Mallory giving him dark, knowing looks. Pansy and Pixie were looking at Erica as though she was something unpleasant they had found under their shoes.

“Also class, this is Miss Erica Quoy. I know at least ‘alf of yeh know her already, but she’s got a mind to study magical zoology full time after Hogwarts, and as she ‘as this hour free, I thought it’d be good fer her to get ‘er hand in by helpin’ teach a Care of Magical Creatures class ‘r’two.”

Erica smiled around at them all. “Nice to meet those of you I haven’t yet,” she said warmly and laughed as the grey hippogriff nuzzled under her hand and arm, looking for more petting.

Hagrid laughed and clapped his hands together. “Well then, if yeh’d all step up to the fence here, we can start our lesson.”

Despite how well Erica was getting along with her hippogriff, most of the class held back. Harriet looked around at her friends and they all nodded in unison and led the way closer to the fence.

“Now, first things firs’ with hippogriffs, they are very intelligent and most impor’antly proud. They understand English perfectly well even if they can’t speak it. They’re not like Epeius who yeh all met last week, yeh have to pay extra close attention to what a hippogriff’s trying ter tell ya without speakin’,” Hagrid explained. “Which is impor’ant as like I said hippogriffs are right proud creatures and they take offence real easy. This means the las’ thing yeh ever wanna do ter a hippogriff is insult it. Cuz if yeh do, well, it really could be the last thing yeh ever do.”

Harriet swallowed eyeing the hippogriffs. Now she’d gotten over the first shock of their odd, formidable appearance, they were rather attractive creatures. But her eyes did drift up and down from their oversized beaks and their sharp, glinting claws. She made a mental note that if she ever had to get close to a hippogriff to be as polite as she possibly could at all times.

“Hey, you in the back, this stuff’s kind of important,” Erica snapped, distracting Harriet. Everyone turned to see she had been speaking to Malfoy who had hung back from the fence and was whispering with his gang. Clearly they hadn’t been paying attention to Hagrid’s lecture. Zabini, Parkinson and Fanfarro looked disdainful, while Malfoy was doing his best to copy their looks but mostly looked abashed.

“Er right then, well, Erica and Buckbeak here are going ter demonstrate the proper method of approaching a hippogriff, then we’ll have a volunteer from the class, then we’ll split up inter groups to give everyone a chance,” Hagrid said as Erica undid the collar around the grey hippogriff and led it into the middle of the paddock.

“When you approach a hippogriff look it right in the eyes, and be careful not ter blink too much. In a lot of animals this is taken as a sign of aggression but to hippogriffs it shows yer not up ter anything fishy or suspicious.”

As Hagrid spoke, Erica stepped up to the hippogriff named Buckbeak, holding her head high, unblinking.

“The next thing yeh do is bow. Yeh don’t have ter bow too much, mind, just enough so that you are bowin’. Then wait.”

Erica bowed to Buckbeak. Almost the moment she had, Buckbeak bent his feathery knees and lowered his head to the ground in what could only be described as a bow.

“Now, yeh see? Buckbeak bowed. That means he trust yeh and you can approach him. It’s still not advisable to make sudden moves around him and like I said, never insult ‘im. Now, that one was easy enough as Buckbeak already trusts Erica, so who’d like ter volunteer for their own go with him?”

Most of the class took a step backwards in response. Harriet glanced towards the other hippogriffs again. While Buckbeak now seemed fairly calm, the others were all shuffling and flexing their wings in agitation at being tethered. Again her eyes drifted to their giant claws and hooked beaks.

“I’ll do it, Hagrid,” came Marcus’ voice. Harriet looked around just in time to see him climbing over the fence.

“Good boy, Marcus” Hagrid said looking encouraged.

Erica smiled and stepped back from Buckbeak. Harriet held her breath in spite of herself. By the looks of it, so was most everyone else in the class. As Harriet watched, Marcus held his head high and stepped up to Buckbeak. The beast towered over him, and turned its head from side to side to get a better look. Then Marcus bowed, and Harriet felt her insides clench seeing one of her best friends exposing his back and neck to such a large beak.

However, her worries were unfounded. Just as Buckbeak had with Erica, he bowed again to Marcus. Marcus rose, grinning ear to ear as the class broke into applause. At least most of the class; Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Parkison and Fanfarro were the only abstentions.

“Go on then, you can pet his beak if you like,” Hagrid said.

Marcus nodded slowly and reached up a hand towards Buckbeak’s head. “You have such a gorgeous coat,” he said just loud enough to be heard as he stroked his hand up the hippogriff’s large beak.

Buckbeak closed his eyes and gave a faint twitter, clearly enjoying the attention. Harriet wanted to think that Marcus had only said that in response to what Hagrid had said about being polite to hippogriffs, but the more she took Buckbeak in, the more she had to admit he was a very handsome animal.

“Alright then, Marcus, you know, he might let yeh ride ‘im now,” Hagrid said cheerfully. At this thought however, Marcus’ face fell rapidly. That was clearly more than he’d bargained for.

“Climb up just behind his wing-joint there, and mind his feathers, he wouldn’t like yeh pullin’ any of them out.”

Marcus awkwardly climbed onto Buckbeak’s back. He was looking around Buckbeak’s neck apparently trying to find somewhere to hold on that wasn’t covered in feathers.

He didn’t get time to find one before Hagrid gave a boisterous “Giddy up there!” and swatted Buckbeak’s hindquarters. The hippogriff gave a squawk of surprise and his wings finally unfolded. They were enormous; each one was slightly longer than Hagrid was tall. The overall spread had to be nearly thirty feet from wing-tip to wing-tip.

Harriet had one last fleeting glimpse of Marcus’ astonished face when Buckbeak gave a mighty bound and with one flap of his massive wings he shot off into the air. The class all gasped in astonishment as the hippogriff swooped low over their heads, trying to gain altitude.

Despite her love of flying, Harriet didn’t feel particularly envious of Marcus. He was clutching his arms around Buckbeak's neck as best he could and was rising and falling awkwardly from the beating of his enormous wings. Harriet decided she would much prefer her broomstick to hippogriffs when it came to air travel.

Buckbeak circled the paddock once before turning in and swooping down towards them once more. He looked as though he was going to plough into them but he flared his wings and thudded to a halt on the ground. His big talons dug into the ground stopping him dead in his tracks, though Marcus was nearly thrown off from the sudden stop.

The class all cheered and applauded as Marcus slid off awkwardly. Despite his apprehension, he was now beaming ear to ear and gave Buckbeak’s neck a few gentle strokes, going with the grain of his feathers.

“Well done, Marcus! Right then, let’s all climb on in the paddock here and see how yeh all get on with the rest?” Hagrid said to the class as Erica undid the rest of the collars on the other hippogriffs.

Harriet climbed into the paddock with the rest of the class. After Marcus’ success, everyone seemed much more eager to try their hands with the hippogriffs. Harriet and her friends wound up with the chestnut coloured hippogriff. It had bowed readily to Harriet and cooed as Buckbeak had when she stroked its beak. Its feathers were large and courser than she had expected, but despite the fearsome appearance, there really didn’t seem to be much to worry about with the hippogriffs after all.

After her turn, Harriet turned her attention to the rest of the class. Neville was trying to bow to his hippogriff, but kept backing away quickly as the hippogriff didn’t seem to be inclined to bow back. She smiled softly as she watched Basheera step up with Neville and they both bowed together. Finally, the hippogriff bowed, and Neville flushed muttering an inaudible thank you to Basheera as he finally began to pet the hippogriff.

Harriet then turned her attention back to Buckbeak. Malfoy and his cronies had quickly taken Buckbeak over. Malfoy stepped up to the hippogriff and bowed. Harriet hoped silently that Buckbeak wouldn’t bow to him, but was disappointed as the hippogriff bent his knees and lowered his head.

“Well that was easy,” Malfoy drawled, speaking in an overly loud voice, clearly wanting to be overheard. “It can’t have been that difficult if Van De Lakk could do it, don’t you agree Blaise?”

“But of course,” Blaise agreed.

“Yes, I bet you’re not dangerous in the least are you, you great ugly brute?”

It happened so fast Harriet didn’t even see it. One moment Malfoy was standing, petting Buckbeak’s head, the next he was on the ground, crying in shock and pain. Above him, Buckbeak was reared back on his hind legs, his talons flashing and his wings and feathers flared, shrieking.

Hagrid reacted in an instant, grabbing Buckbeak from behind and pulling him back away from Malfoy. Erica meanwhile grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders of his robes and pulled him back away from the raging hippogriff. The class largely panicked and ran for it, hurdling the paddock fence. With the exception of Malfoy and Dora, only Gryffindors remained inside the fence. Kieran was moving as quickly as he could to Malfoy who was still crying out in pain.

“I’m dying! It’s killed me! I’m bleeding to death!”

“Let me see it!” Kieran said insistently trying to get Draco’s arm. As he did, he moved aside just long enough for Harriet to get a glimpse of Draco’s wound. The wound did look horrible; a long gash along the length of the top of his forearm that was bleeding profusely.

“You’re not dying,” Kieran said in a calming voice. “Clean cut, Madame Pomfrey—”

“Nobody asked you, cripple!” Malfoy spat between cries of pain.

Harriet felt all her sympathy for Malfoy vanish as quickly as Buckbeak had attacked. How dare he? How dare he say that to Kieran who was only trying to help him? Kieran however didn’t react. He just kept trying to get to Malfoy’s arm, however, he didn’t get the chance by the time Hagrid rushed over and scooped up Malfoy in his arms. He ran towards the school, so tall he didn’t even break his stride as he stepped over the fence. Erica was refitting the hippogriffs to their collars and leashes. Buckbeak was calm once more, now that Malfoy was gone, and let Erica put his collar back on as if nothing had happened.

Kieran stared blankly at the spot where Malfoy had been laying. No one else seemed to notice as the class began making its way up to the school, but Harriet did. She crossed over to him and gently put a hand under his arm. Using his walking stick Kieran pushed himself up with Harriet’s help and they all started to make their way back up the hill towards the castle. She didn’t say anything; she knew exactly why the word had wounded Kieran, though he had tried not to show it.

Ahead of them, most of the Slytherins were in a rage, shouting abuses at Hagrid’s retreating back. Harriet was pleased to see that Malfoy’s remark to Kieran had not gone unnoticed and they were hurling their own insults back.

“Oh shut up the lot of you,” Dean Thomas called after the Slytherins. “It was all Malfoy’s fault and you know it!”

“Yeah, and calling the one guy trying to help him a ‘cripple,’ what a class act he is!” Jackson shouted.

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in a threatening way, though Dean and Jackson hardly looked abashed.

“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?” Hermione asked anxiously, wringing her hands.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Kieran muttered. Harriet hugged his arm tighter trying to comfort him.

Ronnie sighed. “Well, leave it to Malfoy. If anyone could screw up Hagrid’s class that badly, it was him…”

They went inside and made their way to the common room. Harriet passed the time playing Exploding Snap with Marcus. Hermione was reading her Ancient Runes textbook. Ronnie was cleaning her football boots, while Kieran was staring blankly into the fire. The story of what had happened had spread through the house at the usual wildfire pace that rumours spread through Hogwarts and most everyone was looking sullen and worried.

The most sullen and worried was Erica. She was sitting in a corner with Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Rachel.

“I should have been over there keeping an eye on him,” she said miserably.

“Oh don’t say that,” Rachel admonished gently, hugging Erica around her shoulders, which was a feat, considering Erica stood a whole head taller than Rachel.

“I knew he wasn’t paying attention to a damn thing Hagrid was saying,” Erica went on as if Rachel hadn’t spoken.

“Erica, it’s going to be fine,” Angelina said hugging Erica from the other side. “It’s no good blaming yourself for another git’s stupidity.”

“But what if they fire him?!” Erica asked, looking stricken. “Hagrid could lose his job, and Buckbeak could be put down! I should have been over there! Beaky’s not even the proudest or most aggressive of the flock!”

Harriet grimaced and gave significant looks to Hermione and Ronnie. They nodded and went over too to join in the conversation. Harriet did feel a little better for it. She had been jealous of Erica much of last year over her friendship with Hagrid, but her attitude had begun to change after Erica called her out on the jealousy, and seeing Erica’s own distress over Hagrid’s arrest.

That night at dinner, Harriet couldn’t eat. She kept glancing towards the staff table, where Hagrid’s absence was painfully obvious.

“We should go see him,” Dora said at random.

“What, now?” Hermione asked, looking at her watch.

“Yeah, before it gets dark,” Dora replied.

Hermione continued to look apprehensive.

“I’ll go with you,” Erica said, having clearly overheard them.

“Well, at least it’ll be group of us,” Hermione said, though she still sounded reluctant.

They rose and began making their way towards the Entrance Hall. They had just reached the front doors when a voice spoke up behind them.

“And just where do you think you’re all going?”

They turned as one and saw Professor Stratton striding towards them. He did not look angry, or even suspicious. They all exchanged glances before Erica cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, Professor, it’s my fault, I wanted to go see Professor Hagrid after what happened today and—”

“Quoy, Quoy, it’s alright,” Professor Stratton said, holding up a hand to cut her off. “An admirable sentiment, but students are no longer allowed out at this time of night without supervision.”

Harriet looked away, fighting off a glare. Sirius Black hadn’t got this far, had he? However, almost as though he read her mind, Professor Stratton went on.

“It is a rather dangerous time right now. Sirius Black has been reported sighted within two hours of Hogwarts, and Solomon Kinney remains at large. Furthermore the Dementors still patrol the borders but there is no guarantee they will remain there if offered an opportunity.”

Harriet hung her head, Dora was looking mutinous and Hermione was giving everyone her usual look of ‘I told you so.’

“Okay, Professor,” Kieran said reasonably. “Come on guys, we can see him in the morning.”

Professor Stratton looked perplexed. “What on earth do you mean, O’Brien?”

“Well, you said we’re not allowed out unsupervised,” Marcus said. Inexplicably, Erica beamed.

Professor Stratton smiled in response. “Yes, you’re not allowed out… unsupervised,” he said. “However, it would appear as though you are going to be supervised, doesn’t it?”

It took a second but Harriet beamed as the light clicked in her head. Professor Stratton’s smile grew and he strode past them, opening the door. The group of students grinned to each other and followed after him as he led them down across the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut. Despite his warnings of Black, Kinney and the Dementors, Harriet couldn’t help but notice that Professor Stratton didn’t seem all that cautious as he led them.

Hagrid didn’t answer right away when they knocked on the door. Fang, Hagrid’s pet boarhound, barked in greeting and Professor Stratton knocked once more.

“C’min,” Hagrid finally croaked and Professor Stratton opened the door and ushered the students in before him.

It only took one look at Hagrid to know he had been drinking. He was sitting at his table, Fang’s head in his lap and a bucket sized pewter tankard in his hand. He squinted as he took them in.

He turned a bleary eye up to Professor Stratton. “’Spect I just set a record, eh Des? Don’t think they’ve never ‘ad a teacher last just a week b’fore.”

Professor Stratton scoffed. “Oh come off it, you great oaf,” he chuckled. “You’re not being sacked and you know it.”

Hagrid grumbled looking into his tankard. “Yeah right, only a matter of time after Malfoy…”

“Is… is he alright…?” Hermione asked in a tiny voice.

Hagrid shrugged. “Madame Pomfrey and Miss Momori said they fixed him up best they could, but he still says ‘e’s in agony, moaning and all that.”

“He’s faking,” Kieran growled. “I saw that cut, it was perfectly clean, and Madame Pomfrey and Miss Momori have strong enough potions to cure any infection.”

“If he can live through having all the bones in his arm regrown, I’m sure he can live through a bad cut,” Harriet said crossing her arms and sitting at the table opposite Hagrid.

“School gove’nors been called and all,” Hagrid said. This created an awkward moment, as Dora’s father had become a school governor after the ousting of Draco’s father at the start of last summer.

“What… what did they say…?” Dora whispered.

“Jus’ said I started too big, shoulda kept on the path I was with creachers like Epeius… just thought they were a good stepping stone, not all that diff’r’nt after all, being ‘alf horses… all my fault—”

“It’s all Malfoy’s fault!” Harriet insisted.

“Yeah, you told us all hippogriffs attack if insulted, it’s his fault he wasn’t listening,” Marcus chimed in.

“Erica even told him to listen up,” Dora added, reassured. “I’ll write to Dad and tell him the whole story, don’t worry Hagrid.”

Hagrid became overcome with emotion at that point and slumped forward on his table. Professor Stratton sighed.

“Alright, think you’ve had quite enough there, Rubeus,” Professor Stratton said. “Come on, up with you.”

With surprising strength that left Harriet’s mouth open, Professor Stratton hooked an arm under Hagrid’s and hoisted him to his feet. He hooked Hagrid’s arm over his shoulder and helped him outside. Hermione picked up the oversized tankard and followed them out: there was a loud splash and Hermione came back inside.

“What was that splash?” Ronnie asked.

“Professor Stratton stuck Hagrid’s head in the water barrel,” Hermione said simply, putting the tankard on the shelf.

Half a minute later Hagrid and Professor Stratton returned.

“Ah, tha’s better,” Hagrid said wiping the water from his face. “Really, thank you lot for comin’ to see me, it means a lot.”

“Always, Hagrid,” Harriet said smiling.

“An’ thanks for comin’ with ‘em,” Hagrid said to Professor Stratton.

Professor Stratton laughed. “Well I certainly wasn’t going to stop them, so I figured I might as well be a facilitator,” He said with a little wink at the students.

As September wore on, the changes in staff were beginning to show. It took very little time for Defence Against the Dark Arts to become most people’s favourite class. From Boggarts they turned to Red Caps, wicked little goblin-ish beings who lived in dungeons and old battlefields, waiting to attack intruders.

After Red Caps they studied Kappas, which lived in the rivers of northern Japan, and often targeted wading children in their rivers.

The second most loved class was easily History of Magic. Professor Stratton had turned their classroom into a model Greek temple. Great pillars lined the room from floor to ceiling, and Professor Stratton himself had turned his chair into a throne and wore a fake beard and laurel crown. He had even let the students pick their own Greek gods to represent.

Hermione predictably was first, and immediately picked Athena. Dean and Seamus picked Dionysus and Hades respectively. Parvati and Lavender picked Hera and Aphrodite. Marcus went abstract with Morpheus, the god of dreams. Basheera picked Hestia, while AJ picked Demeter. Rachel picked Artemis, Jackson picked Poseidon, and Ronnie picked Nike. This left Harriet, Kieran, Neville and Tori unable to decide.

“Hmmm,” Professor Stratton muttered taking them in thoughtfully. “O’Brien… for you, I believe the choice is clear.”

Kieran sighed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Professor Stratton frowned. “Why so glum? I thought being Hermes would be a great honour?”

Kieran blinked in surprise. “H-Hermes, but I thought—”

“Yes?” Professor Stratton asked with a quelling tone.

“Nothing sir,” Kieran replied, though Harriet was sure she saw the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Hoffman, I hereby decree thou art Eumonia, the goddess of good order and lawfulness.”

Tori blushed but smiled and nodded. Professor Stratton then turned to Harriet.

“And you, Potter, I believe the best choice for you would be Eirene.”

“Irene?” Harriet asked, perplexed

Professor Stratton laughed jovial. “Yes, Potter. Eirene, the goddess of peace.”

Harriet smiled and nodded. I could probably use some peace right about now, she thought, and in the future too come to think of it…

Professor Stratton turned to Neville. “And you, Longbottom. I grant the role of none-other than Apollo himself.”

Neville’s eyes went wide, as did Parvati and Lavender’s.

“Neville? Apollo?!” Lavender asked sounding shocked.

Professor Stratton’s eyes narrowed. “Dost thou question almighty Zeus? Let alone question your professor?”

Lavender blushed and shook her head.

“Good, now then, our court is spoken for. Let class begin!”

The trend did not continue in other classes. Professor Snape was being horrible as ever in Potions, and everyone knew why. The tale of Neville’s Boggart and subsequently making it wear a dress had swept through the school. In certain circles, “Madame Snape” became a common pseudonym for the Potions Master.

His animosity was largely, and predictably, directed towards Neville. When Malfoy returned to class the following Thursday, his arm still in a sling, Professor Snape all but made Neville into Malfoy’s personal servant. This was even worse for Neville, as this now meant he was largely responsible for both his own potions work, and Malfoy’s.

Divination was also far from enjoyable. Professor Trelawney continued a stream of foul predictions of Harriet’s future, which were branching out beyond the Grim. Every ‘sign’ that Professor Trelawney saw seemed to miraculously turn itself into an omen of coming doom for Harriet.

This was made even worse for Harriet by Parvati and Lavender who kept the dark mood going outside of class. The pair seemed to almost worship Professor Trelawney, and frequently visited her during free hours. Afterwards, they would return to the common room looking smug and all-knowing. Furthermore, they would only address Harriet in hushed, sympathetic voices, as though she were dying of some incurable disease.

Even Care of Magical Creatures had lost much of its fun. Hagrid had stopped bringing Erica to class. Erica said it was because the governors had thought having a student help teach a class such as Care of Magical Creatures had been a mistake and possibly contributed to the incident. Dora continued to insist that her father had nothing to do with the decision, though that did not keep Ronnie from grumbling about her father when Dora wasn’t around.

Instead of more interesting creatures like hippogriffs and Areions, they were now studying flobberworms, which were nothing more than oversized earthworms with gaping, jawless mouths that did nothing but lie around and eat any plant-matter their mouths came in contact with. Even if this was perhaps safer than other creatures, Harriet had to admit, it was deathly boring.

While Defence Against the Dark Arts was fun and interesting, there were occasional lulls. In the last week of September, Professor Lupin fell ill and so instead of dealing with another interesting magical creature, they simply read and made notes on the chapter on dugbogs, a bog-dwelling creature that resembled dead-wood when stationary but with clawed, webbed hands and feet they would use to attack the ankles of human invaders of their marshes.

Outside of the classes, September did yield two events that filled Harriet with joy. The first was Hermione’s birthday on the 19th, followed by Marcus’ on the 27th. As the birthdays were so close together, they held a joint party for both of them in the third year boys’ dormitory. While this was usually frowned upon by Percy, Hermione had the idea of going first to Professor McGonagall, who agreed, provided there was a prefect present to monitor the situation.

Harriet’s one beacon of hope for a good year in this time was the start of the Quidditch season. The captain of Harriet’s Quidditch team, Oliver Wood, was a burly, handsome seventh year for whom Harriet harboured a small (though not entirely secret) fancy.

There were seven positions on a Quidditch team. Harriet played the Seeker, the most difficult position, as it was her job to catch the tiny, fast, and very manoeuvrable Golden Snitch, which ended the game and awarded the successful Seeker’s team one-hundred fifty points. There were three Chasers, who were tasked with putting the Quaffle (a large red ball, about the size of a football) through one of the three hoops on the opposing teams end. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell were the chasers on the Gryffindor team. Fred and George were the team’s two Beaters, who used wooden clubs to keep the malicious black balls known as Bludgers away from their teammates. Finally there was the Keeper, who defended their team’s hoop form the opposing team’s Chasers.

Wood called their first meeting on a quiet Thursday evening in early October. He looked even more manic than usual, and he left them in little doubt why.

“Alright everyone, this is it, our last chance,” he said as he paced the locker room in front of them. “The last chance for all of us, together, to win the Cup. We’ve been a team for three years now, and honestly the best team I’ve ever seen as far as talent goes.”

He paused and turned to them looking downcast. “But we definitely have the worst luck ever, no denying that. But we can’t let that stop us this year. It’s my last year, I’m graduating after this, we’ll never get another chance together if we don’t pull it off this year.”

“We can do it, Oliver,” Katie said, trying to sound encouraging.

“Eight times lucky?” Fred said, giving Katie a teasing smile though dropping it as Wood gave him a dark look.

“We can do it; we’re the best team in the school bar none. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, you three fly like a single person. Fred, George, you two are without a doubt the best beaters I’ve ever seen. Which is fitting, as I’ve said before, you two are probably the only things on the pitch more dangerous than the bludgers,” Wood said sternly.

“Well, can’t say farer than that,” George admitted, grinning.

“And Harriet, you’re the most natural seeker I have ever seen,” Wood went on turning his attention on Harriet. As usual when Wood praised her, Harriet felt her stomach flutter.

“Oy, don’t forget yourself there, Wood. If we’ve ever had a better Keeper, I’ll eat a flobberworm,” George said.

Fred scoffed. “Oh come on, anyone can eat a flobberworm, they just take a little ketchup. Now if you were gonna propose eating Hagrid, that would—”

“The point is,” Wood went on. “I took a big gamble when I took over as captain. I put my chips on a younger team. I knew it may cost us the Cup for a year or two, but I knew it would pay off in the long-run for Gryffindor house with a very strong, experienced side in a few years’ time. And that would create a good base for bringing on new players later after I’m gone. Well, that has already come to pass. We’re the best any Hogwarts house could ever ask for. And this year is our year.”

Harriet glanced around the team. Even Fred and George were looking serious now. She smiled to herself. If there was one thing she knew, Fred and George were able to accomplish anything they put their minds to, and if Wood had finally put their minds into winning the Quidditch Cup at long last, it had to be in the bag.

On top of Fred and George’s new enthusiasm, there was also the fact that Wood scheduled practice sessions three nights a week now. While this was good news for the team, it was not very good news for Harriet’s homework, which was beginning to pile up as September and October wore on. It was worse for Hermione, however, who worked well into every night finishing all her homework for all the classes she was taking. What was more vexing for everyone else on the other hand was the slowly spreading rumours of Hermione being in multiple classes at the same time. Harriet had bigger issues on her plate, coupled with the fact that was plainly impossible, Harriet paid little attention and busied herself with more difficult homework and Quidditch practices.

The thing that raised Harriet’s spirits the most happened on the night of October 11th, when Harriet climbed wearily through the portrait hole after a very long, very wet Quidditch practice. The whole common room was buzzing with excitement.

“What’s the fuss?” Harriet asked Kieran who had come over to greet her.

“First Hogsmeade weekend just got announced,” he replied, pointing at the notice board.

Harriet felt her excitement grow and her tiredness ebb away as she made her way to the notice board. Sure enough there was the notice, declaring the first Hogsmeade trip would fall on Halloween of that year.

“I can’t wait!” Ronnie said eagerly, having come over to greet Harriet as well. “We’ll finally get to see inside Honeydukes and Zonkos!”

“And just what would you be needing from Zonkos, little sis?” George asked as he walked up behind them. Ronnie stuck out her tongue at him but he ignored her.

“Or you little Miss Potter?” Fred asked, ruffling Harriet’s hair. Harriet grumbled trying to straighten her hair out again.

“Funny, I think they can go to anywhere they want in Hogsmeade because they’re old enough, girl or not, don’t you Alicia?” Angelina asked in a voice brimming with barely concealed disapproval.

“Definitely,” Alicia said. “You agree, Erica?”

“One hundred percent,” Erica added.

George swallowed. Harriet had learned very quickly last year that there was only two things that could get George to ‘behave’: the level of his mother’s anger, and how much Erica approved of their hijinks. Erica gave George a smirk but then paused and looked at the noticeboard just to the right of the Hogsmeade notice. “What’s this?”

Harriet looked. There was something there she hadn’t noticed at first, but she recognized the writing too well. It had been posted by Marcus.

“Wow, that’s forward thinking of him,” Harriet said, smiling and looking around for Marcus.

“Ohmigosh, no way,” Ginny’s fellow second-year friend, who harboured a not-so-tiny fangirl crush on Ronnie, Rayne Prismere said as she looked at the notice. “That is so awesome omigosh, Ronnie did you see this?!”

“Yeah kiddo,” Ronnie said laughing. “I helped with the ideas.”

“That she did,” Marcus said jovially as he joined them. “Been thinking about it all summer and just finally said ‘heck with it’ and put it up. Just see who’s interested and all that.”

“Hmmmmm, it is a pretty good list, some sports are missing though,” came Hermione’s voice.

Marcus turned to look at her. She was studying the list closely, frowning at the bottom.

“’Missing?’ Just what would you know about sports of any kind, Hermione?” Fred asked, scoffing.

Hermione glared at him. “Well, I just thought lacrosse would be a good addition…”

“La-what?” George asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stomped off to her bag and returned with a book. She handed it to Fred and George who started to read it while Harriet leaned in. It was a book of lacrosse plays and tactics. Fred and George flipped through it with bemused expressions but Harriet narrowed her eyes and gave Hermione a shrewd look. Hermione’s cheeks went a little pink and she seemed to be trying to ignore Harriet’s eyes.

“So, it’s a sport with a bunch of girls running about a pitch, bumping into each other, getting hot and sweaty…?” Fred asked as he flipped pages.

“Not just girls,” Hermione retorted, going very pink.

“Wearing tight shirts, little skirts and knee-high socks…?” George added as if Hermione hadn’t spoken.

Hermione flushed even brighter and opened her mouth to protest this assessment but was drowned out by Fred and George’s synchronized declaration: “THIS IS THE BEST SPORT EVER!”

“What the devil are you two shouting about?” said Percy as he approached the group.

“What’s it to you?” Fred asked, his playful teasing demeanour being immediately replaced by a distinct coolness.

“Our common room too, isn’t it?” George said darkly.

“Yes, but people are trying to study,” Percy grumbled and looked on the board. “And what’s this?” he asked pulling down Marcus’ notice.

“Hey!” Marcus protested. “That’s mine, put it back up.”

“Excuse me?” Percy said in a tone that reminded Harriet forcibly of Professor Snape at his most dangerous, “did you just give me, the Head Boy, an order, Van De Lakk?”

Marcus glared, chewing his tongue.

“This was not properly marked as a notice, Van De Lakk; furthermore, all clubs have to be organized through Professor McGonagall as deputy headmistress.”

“But it wasn’t actually starting anything, it was just to be a get together to see if anyone would be interested, and if they were what sports they would want,” Marcus retorted.

“All the same. Please use the proper channels before posting a notice. That is all,” Percy said before heading off out of the portrait hole.

“Coward,” Fred said, gripping his broomstick handle so hard it actually creaked. “Ducking out to make sure he had the last word. Sorry about him, Marcus ol’ mate, it is a good idea.”

“Yeah, it would be good to see a bit more student activity around here,” George agreed.

“Why, so you can ogle?” Angelina said coolly.

Fred rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, we tease you lot constantly, how is this still a surprise?”

“Fair enough,” Angelina agreed, dropping her icy look and laughing. The fifth-years headed off for the seats by the fireplace and Harriet took Hermione’s arm in hers and rather forcibly marched her away from her homework to a less crowded area. Something that had been puzzling her since the trip to Diagon Alley suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Lacrosse, huh?” Harriet asked.

“I, well, I just was studying it out of interest, you know, the history of the sport and such—”

“From a play book?”

“Well, the history of the plays,” Hermione said, starting to lose her would-be casual act.

“Uh-huh,” Harriet said, smiling in a way that was at once approving and accusing. “Why the act? I think it’s great! What got you thinking about it?”

Hermione sighed. “It was my cousin this summer when we visited her family in France. She and her friends were playing and they had me join in… it was… exhilarating! I just couldn’t stop! Coming up with plans and plays, working out fitness routines to stay in the best shape, it’s… it’s surprisingly academic,” Hermione said before she glowered and stole a glance towards Ronnie who was now sitting with Marcus working on a new flyer. “And I’ve kept quiet about it because of her…”

Harriet raised her eyebrows. She knew Hermione and Ronnie didn’t get on quite as well as her other friends, but the venom with which Hermione said ‘her’ took Harriet quite aback.

“Because of Ronnie?”

“Yes!” Hermione hissed. “She’ll just tease me, ‘oh Hermione, the big bookworm’s taken up sport, ha-ha-ha,’” Hermione went on hugging her chest and scowling.

“No she wouldn’t,” Harriet retorted. She opened her mouth to argue her case more when Ronnie cried out in shock.

There was a flurry of activity and something orange was swinging through the air wildly. At first Harriet thought it was Ronnie’s hair but soon realized it was in fact Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, being flung about the air. Crookshanks was clinging to Ronnie’s bag, hissing and spitting as Ronnie tried to shake him off. With a squeak, Scabbers went flying out of the bag and landed with a thud almost at Harriet’s feet. He made a dash for a cupboard but Harriet was too quick for him, snatching him up from the floor just in time as Crookshanks went skidding past.

“That thing is a monster!” Ronnie shouted running over and taking Scabbers from Harriet while Hermione picked up Crookshanks.

“He is not a monster!” Hermione snapped, hugging Crookshanks tight as the cat growled, still staring at Scabbers. “He’s just a cat! And all cats chase rats!”

“Not like this! This is the sixth time since the start of term! There’s plenty of mice around this school but the only one that mad cat’s after is Scabbers!” Ronnie shouted.

“You don’t know he doesn’t go after other rodents around the school!” Hermione retorted. “And well he… he might just sense that Scabbers is an older rat, and—”

“Don’t call Scabbers old!” Ronnie snapped stuffing the trembling rat into her bag again. She looked down at Crookshanks with deep dislike but also a shrewd expression. “There’s something weird about that cat,” she went on. “I had just told Marcus to be careful with my bag because Scabbers was in it… and not a minute later that cat came out of nowhere…”

“That’s… that’s true…” Marcus said, studying Crookshanks with interest. “Maybe Scott’s right about him being part Kneazle…?”

“Well, even if he is, it’s still just nature,” Hermione said. She was trying to keep her dignified tone, but Harriet caught a slight break in her voice.

“Not with that cat,” Ronnie growled and turned towards the girls’ dormitories. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Scabbers was here first…” she snapped and stomped off without another word.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Hermione’s problems with her housemates’ pets did not end with the continued debacle between Crookshanks and Scabbers. Ronnie was barely speaking to Hermione, reserving talking to her only in Herbology if she needed Hermione to hand her something. The troubles compounded four days later with Lavender Brown. Harriet and her friends arrived at that day’s Transfiguration lesson to see a small group huddled around the door.

As they neared and saw that Lavender was sitting on a bench with Parvati, who had her arm around Lavender’s shoulder. By the looks of it, Lavender was crying hysterically. Dean, Seamus, Basheera and Neville were all crowded around her offering support. Tori, AJ and Rachel were standing off to the side, muttering.

“What’s wrong, Lav?” Ronnie asked.

“She just got a letter from home,” Basheera began to explain in a solemn voice. “Her pet rabbit, Binky, has just been killed by a fox.”

“Oh, Lavender, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Hermione said softly.

Lavender gave a huge sniff. “I should have known,” she said miserably, “you know what day it is?”

“Uh, Friday?” Marcus suggested.

“The Fifteenth of October!” Lavender wailed. “She was right!”

“Who was right?” Harriet asked.

“Trelawney,” Rachel whispered in her ear as she rolled her eyes.

“That thing you’re dreading,” Lavender went on, wailing louder. “It will happen on the Fifteenth of October! Oh Binky!”

Hermione and Parvati both grimaced in protest to the volume of Lavender’s cries.

“Oh Lavender, it is alright,” Basheera consoled. “I’m sure he lived a good life—”

“He was only a baby!” Lavender carried on miserably.

Hermione looked puzzled now. “But, if he was only a baby, why would you dread him dying? Are there often fox attacks in your area?”

“No, we live in town!” Lavender replied miserably.

“Well, really Lavender, if you look at it log—”

“Oh give it a rest would you?” Ronnie snapped. “We all know you hate Trelawney. You don’t have to hijack Lavender’s dead pet to prove your point.”

Hermione looked at once wounded and very angry. Half the class looked angry at Hermione, the other at Ronnie. Fortunately, the situation was diffused when Professor McGonagall swung the door open.

“What on earth is going on out here?” She demanded looking around.

The class looked around, wondering who was going to speak first.

This time, it was Tori. “Lavender’s upset because she just found out her pet rabbit, Binky, was killed by a fox,” she explained.

“And Hermione tried to use it as an excuse to attack Professor Trelawney,” Ronnie jabbed.

Professor McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed her eyes. “Miss Brown, pull yourself together, rabbits get eaten by foxes every day across the globe. Miss Granger, a classmate’s misery is not an excuse, however correct you may be, to champion any cause. Miss Weasley, I’m not entirely sure what your issue with Miss Granger is but you don’t need to fan the flames by further using this unfortunate circumstance to attack Granger, is that understood?” she asked looking between the three girls.

Ronnie and Hermione gave each other grudging glares while Lavender gave a few deep sniffs, trying to calm herself.

“Very well then, inside all of you,” Professor McGonagall said and led them into the room. When they took their seats, Hermione went to sit with AJ, Rachel and Tori while Ronnie went to sit with Parvati, Lavender, Dean and Seamus. Their usual places in Harriet’s group of friends were now taken by Neville and Basheera.

Harriet had a hard time focusing throughout the class. She kept stealing glances at Ronnie and Hermione feeling a little frustrated with both. They had never got on as well as the rest, but this was starting to get ridiculous. However, the unpleasantness seemed to be driven from everyone’s minds by Professor McGonagall’s announcement at the end of class.

“Before you go, I have an announcement. As your head of house, and with the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, please turn all Hogsmeade permission forms in to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!”

“Uh Professor,” Neville said putting up his hand. “I think I lost—”

“Your grandmother has already sent your form to me directly, Longbottom,” Professor McGonagall said in an ever-suffering tone. “She seemed to think it was safer.”

Instantly the class was buzzing excitedly. Ronnie and Hermione both hurried over and they all made their way up to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve their forms.

“You know, I nearly didn’t get to go,” Harriet said as they climbed the stairs.

“Why not?” Ronnie asked.

“I’d… I’d made a bet with my Uncle that if I behaved ‘properly’ while Aunt Marge was visiting he’d sign my form.”

“Hmmm, somehow I think inflating her like a balloon would have violated that agreement,” Marcus chuckled.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Well yeah, fortunately Professor Howe faked him out and tricked him into signing the form for me.”

“Heh, you get all the breaks, don’t you?” Ronnie teased.

“Well if I didn’t not sure how I’d have survived,” Harriet replied. “Given my aunt and uncle.”

“Fair point,” Kieran said smiling.

Marcus suddenly looked less than thrilled. “Just wish we didn’t have to pass the Dementors to get there…”

Harriet felt her throat clench. Somehow, she’d forgotten about the Dementors. She hugged her arms a little tighter as they made their way. What if she passed out again just walking there? She didn’t want to miss her first trip to Hogsmeade by having to go to the hospital wing instead.

They dropped off their books and made their way back to Professor McGonagall’s office. They all queued up and filed in one by one to hand in their forms.

“Here you are, Professor,” Harriet said excitedly as she handed in her form. To her surprise, Professor McGonagall actually looked troubled as she took Harriet’s form.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said curtly. She studied the form for a moment, almost as though she was suspecting a forgery, which rankled Harriet slightly. Okay, so her uncle had been tricked into signing it, but that had been Professor Howe’s doing for one, and for two, it was his genuine signature.

Despite accepting the form, Professor McGonagall’s seeming reluctance kept intruding on Harriet’s mind. She kept wondering just what it was that could have made Professor McGonagall suspicious when Seamus reminded her rather forcibly of her real situation.

“Dean! Take a look, Black’s been sighted again on the road to Hogsmeade!”

“No way!” Dean replied with indecent excitement. “It does sound like he’s coming to the school, doesn’t it? Wonder what he’s after?”

Harriet shivered. Now she understood. Professor McGonagall probably would prefer Harriet to stay in the castle where it was “safe” rather than going out in the open of Hogsmeade. As she got into bed that night, Harriet sighed. Would nothing ever be simple for her?

Finally, the day arrived. To say it got off on a rocky start would have been an understatement. It began with Percy attempting to lecture all of the new third year students on proper conduct while in Hogsmeade. Everyone probably would have just let him get on with it and then promptly ignored everything he’d said, as per usual, if Fred and George hadn’t decided to sit in and comment on everything Percy said.

“Now I know most of you right now are thinking, ‘Yay, a free day in Hogsmeade, away from the school and I can do whatever I want!’”

“Which is true,” Fred interjected to widespread giggling.

Percy cleared his throat. “Well, I’m here to tell you that is far from the truth. While I know I am Head Boy and my responsibilities are much larger within the school than just Gryffindor House, but Gryffindor House is my home and I assure you, I expect much better of Gryffindor students than the usual rabble.”

“A common Big Head mistake,” George said to more giggles.

Percy glowered and thrust his chest out in a show of self-pride, raising his voice. “In other words, you must all be on your best behaviour when you are representing Hogwarts and Gryffindor House in Hogsmeade. You newer students in particular, I know a lot of people give you all a lot of leeway and sympathy over what happened, but you’ve had a whole year now to become accustomed to our ways, and—”

“Hey, Head-case.”

Everyone looked around confused over who had spoken. It wasn’t Fred or George, it was deeper and had a strong air of annoyance about it. Harriet finally saw who had spoken and felt her heart flutter as it always did when older boys acted bravely. It was AJ’s older brother, Ben, who was looking at Percy with great dislike.

“Yes, Jackson?” Percy said looking taken aback. Harriet had hardly ever heard Ben speak before, which somehow seemed to add more value to his words as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Ya wanna start lecturin’ the ‘newer’ ones of us on how to act in Hogsmeade, you might wanna consider more th’n’alf of us live in Hogsmeade now outside school,” Ben said and looked over at some of the first and second year American students. “Heck, I’d wager some of them who aren’t even allowed to go on this trip cuz they’re too young know more about Hogsmeade now than you do.”

Everyone was looking back and forth between Percy and Ben with gaping mouths, wondering how Percy would respond.

“I—well—th-that may be, Jackson, but th-this is an official school function,” Percy stammered. “And as such there needs to be a certain amount of propriety.”

Ben merely responded by raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, or you just wanna push kids around because you think being the Big Head gives you the right,” George muttered to widespread murmurs of ascent.

Percy’s face went dangerously red, but he plowed on. “As such, I should say that I believe students should wear their uniforms while in Hogsmeade, to ensure students easily recognize each other and for the ladies as there is little opportunity to wear such garments I would advise against shopping at Dusk til Dawn—”

There was a wave of loud protests at this, from girls in particular. Harriet joined in, crossing her arms in disapproval. She had woken up even earlier than usual to wash up and look her best and pick out her favourite outfit from the clothes Jess McIntyre had given her, the same outfit she had worn her first day at Glen Raglan.

“Hey what say we all head down to breakfast before all heading off to Hogsmeade together?” Fred said to all the gathered third years.

“Yeah, Fred and I’ll give you all a tour of the best places to go! Come on!” George added.

Harriet and the other third years all agreed at once and followed the twins out of the portrait hole, ignoring Percy’s angry shouts from behind them.

“Don’t think I won’t go to McGonagall on this!” he shouted as the portrait hole swung closed once more. “Going to Hogsmeade is a privilege and privileges can be taken away!”

“You don’t think he means that?” Lavender asked looking back over her shoulder anxiously.

“Of course not,” Ronnie grumbled. “He’s just blowing smoke. Honestly, you think this is bad, try living with him.”

“Ugh, no thanks,” Marcus muttered nudging Ronnie’s arm with his elbow.

Ronnie rolled her eyes but smiled.

Percy arrived at breakfast shortly after they did. He immediately bypassed the Gryffindor table and went straight to Professor McGonagall. They spoke quietly so no one could hear before finally Professor McGonagall rose to follow Percy out.

Harriet was starting to feel nervous. By the looks of it, Percy was fully intending on carrying out his threat of getting students banned from Hogsmeade. She looked down the table at Ben who was sitting alone, eating his breakfast quietly and paying no attention as Percy and Professor McGonagall passed him.

“You don’t think McGonagall’s gonna buy whatever your brother says, will she?” AJ asked Ronnie.

“I doubt it,” Tori cut in. “McGonagall’s strict but she’s not stupid.”

“I’ll bet you anything she tells Percy he was the one being out of line and he walks back in looking all sulky,” Parvati said looking at the door shrewdly.

“What would be really funny would be it completely backfiring and McGonagall blocking him from going to Hogsmeade,” Dora said grinning slyly.

Ronnie laughed. “That would be excellent, I like the way you think sometimes.”

Dora winked.

Sure enough, it was only another minute before Professor McGonagall and Percy re-entered the Great Hall looking exactly as Parvati had predicted. Professor McGonagall had a set expression on her face while Percy looked downright livid, determinedly not looking at either Ben or Professor McGonagall as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table to sit with his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater.

“Hypocrite,” Marcus muttered darkly. Harriet nodded in agreement, as the previous year Percy had been the most outspoken of the prefects in forcing students to sit at their house tables, rather than with their friends no matter what house they were in.

Jackson looked almost beside himself with glee. “Okay, now that was a thing of beauty… truly… AJ, your brother is awesome.”

AJ beamed.

“Honestly, wish he was a prefect or Head Boy instead,” Parvati muttered.

“Mmm that’s a chest worth pinning a Head Boy badge on.”

“LAVENDER!” Hermione gasped but AJ broke out laughing.

“But he’s probably too old to be selected to be a Prefect now, huh?” Parvati asked AJ who was catching her breath.

“Yeah, he’s a sixth-year,” AJ replied.

“Well even if he was, one doesn’t have to be a prefect to be Head Boy,” Scott said knowledgably.

For some reason, AJ suddenly looked put out and poked her eggs with her fork. “’Course I doubt they’d ev’ make one uh us a prefect or Head Boy ‘r Girl anyway. Given how kindly most folks took to us last year.”

There followed an awkward silence as everyone ate. Harriet however had a troubling thought. “Wait, so this means he’s only got one more year after this, right?” She asked AJ with a nod towards Ben.

AJ nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, if… I mean, what if the war’s not over yet? Where will he go if he’s too old for Hogwarts?”

AJ simply shrugged. Harriet chewed her lip looking back down the table towards Ben. She didn’t like the thought of the Jackson family being split up even more than it already was. She looked back and caught Tori’s eye. For some reason, Tori was giving Harriet a look that bordered on disapproval, but she broke the stare and began eating. Harriet noticed even Rachel was determinedly not looking at her.

After finishing breakfast, the third years and older filed into the Great Hall. AJ, Rachel and Tori all sped up away from them towards the end of the queue, leaving Harriet feeling even more confused and a little upset. The queue to go to Hogsmeade for the first time that year was backed all the way up the staircase.

“What are you doing in this line, Potter?” Pansy Parkinson asked as Harriet and her friends passed on their way to the end of the line. Harriet closed her eyes and did her best not to groan in exasperation. She’d put up with enough that morning already without having to add her least favourite people at Hogwarts to the mix.

“Yeah you’re gonna have to pass the Dementors going to Hogsmeade you know? Wouldn’t want to faint again and fall in the mud or something,” Pixie Fanfarró taunted.

“Actually, Pixie, that’d be rather funny,” Pansy quipped back.

“True, okay you should definitely come, Potter, we’ll wait at the gates so we can laugh, okay?”

Harriet glared and opened her mouth to respond when a voice Harriet did not recognize spoke up. “Oh ye’d like that would yeh? Laughin’ at some’un o’er how badly Dementors affect them?”

The crowd turned to see the new Muggle Studies professor, Abby Spring, glaring down at Pansy and Pixie. The two Slytherin girls looked equal parts worried and disdainful. Hermione on the other hand trembled with excitement.

“Oh, hello Professor Spring!” she said in a breathless voice.

“’Ello Granger, doin’ alright are we? Excited fer yer first excursion inta ‘ogsmeade, yeah?” Professor Spring asked.

“Very,” Hermione agreed.

Professor Spring smiled. “Well tell yeh what? How about you lot there,” she said drawing a circle in the air to indicate Harriet and her friends, “come along with me, I’ll get yeh through the VIP line.”

“The what line?” Ronnie asked.

“It means ‘Very Important Person,’” Hermione explained as Professor Spring started down the stairs and indicated they should all follow.

Harriet glanced back at Pansy and Pixie who were both looking scandalized and livid as Professor Spring took them all to the very front of the queue.

“This lot’r with me, Filch,” Professor Spring said cheerfully.

Filch scowled and looked at the gathered students sceptically. “Are they all on the list?” he asked suspiciously.

“Lemme see,” Professor Spring said, snatching Filch’s list from his hand and scanning through it rapidly and handing it back. “Yep, all there: Flamel, Granger, McIntyre, O’Brien, Potter, Van De Lakk, and Weasley.”

Harriet stole a glance back. She quickly spotted the faces of Dean, Seamus, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, Basheera, Jackson AJ, Rachel and Tori. All of them were looking distinctly jealous. Harriet turned back to Professor Spring.

“Um, excuse me, Professor Spring, before we go—”

“Ah go ahead, Potter,” Professor Spring said brushing back her spiky blonde fringe.

Harriet beamed and nodded and quickly ran back to the rest to have them come join in. Despite the awkward moment exiting the Great Hall, Rachel, AJ and Tori all blushed and nodded coming along with the rest of the Gryffindor third years. Professor Spring checked all the names again off the list for Filch (much to Filch’s anger) and started to lead them off down the path to the great iron gates that barred entrance to the Hogwarts grounds.

Harriet was almost trembling with excitement. Not only was she going to Hogsmeade, but she was getting there before much of the rest of the school, meaning they would get first shot at most of the goods in all the shops.

“Excuse me, Professor Spring,” came Fred’s voice and the twins somehow managed to materialize in front of them.

“But if you’re looking for some guides to the sights of Hogsmeade, Fred and I would love to volunteer,” George said bowing.

“No one better with two whole years’ experience exploring its charming local colour,” Fred added bowing too.

The corners of Professor Spring’s mouth twitched and she crossed her arms. “Really, only two years’ experience? Goodness you must know simply everything about the place by now, yeah?” she said, her voice thick with irony.

Fred and George both seemed to shrink a little, both catching Professor Spring’s sarcasm.

“Well…” Fred muttered backpedalling.

“Oh are you two guides?” Angelina said slyly sidling up to Fred. “I’d have never guessed.”

“Well-kept secret, I’m sure,” Erica said stepping up to George. “Would you two kind gentlemen care to escort us silly girls into the town?”

“Oh yes, we’ll just never be able to find our way with only one or two years’ experience seeing all the shops,” Alicia Spinnet chimed in.

Fred and George both looked taken aback but regained their footing.

“But of course, ladies,” Fred said and crooked out an arm for Angelina. “Let us be your guides!”

George stole a glance at Erica and looked as though he was going to hold out his arm but thought better of it. He didn’t get the chance as Alicia stepped in and took it for him and forcibly began pulling him towards the gate.

“Great,” she said smirking. “I’m just dying to do some clothes shopping at Dusk til Dawn.”

“Clothes shopping?” George asked bewildered.

“Oh yes, it’ll take hours,” Katie Bell said with a very serious tone. “And then we should totally stop in to Madame Puddifoot’s for lunch!”

“Such a great idea, Katie!” Angelina agreed and began pulling Fred along after Alicia and George. Erica and Katie followed in their wake grinning smugly while Fred and George gave Harriet and her friends pleading looks over their shoulders.

“No, no, no, that was a thing of beauty,” Parvati said and the group broke out into open laughter.

“They… they’re my heroes…” Lavender said in awe as she watched the older girls leading Fred and George off.

“Alright, alright, enough dilly-dallyin’, time tah get teh see Hogsmeade,” Professor Spring said and they were off once more.

As they neared the gate, Harriet was starting to get more and more nervous. The Dementors were there, and she was starting to feel the growing chill on what was otherwise a warm, sunny day.

Professor Spring drew her wand and pointed it at the gate.

“Expecto Patronum,” she said and there was a burst of dazzling silver-white light from her wand-tip and something shot off towards the gate.

Harriet followed it with her eyes, realizing it had taken the shape of an animal, a squirrel to be precise. It was then she noticed it wasn’t alone. Professors Flitwick and Sinistra were standing either side of the gate and each had another silvery-white animal circling around them. The animal circling Professor Sinistra turned out to be a swan, while Professor Flitwick’s took Harriet quite a back. Despite Professor Flitwick’s tiny size, the translucent, silver-white animal circling him was clearly a bear.

“What are those?” Basheera asked in awe.

“Patronuses,” Professor Spring said matter-of-factly. “Only thing that really ‘olds off the D’menters effectively. ‘Ello Filius, Aurora.”

“Hello Abby,” Professor Sinistra replied, smiling. Harriet felt her stomach fill with butterflies like it always did when Professor Sinistra smiled, even though Professor Sinistra was also a girl.

“How long yeh on guard duty?” Professor Spring asked.

“Another hour,” Professor Sinistra replied.

“Hmmm, then in town ta do some clothes-shoppin’?” Professor Spring asked giving Professor Sinistra a very knowing wink.

Professor Sinistra flushed but otherwise remained composed and simply shrugged casually.

Professor Spring simply grinned and they continued on. Rachel grinned as well.

“You were teasing her about Mr Dusk, weren’t you?” she asked Professor Spring as they walked along through the gate. Harriet glanced sideways and though she still felt a slight chill that was definitely not natural, there were no Dementors to be seen anywhere.

Professor Spring however simply kept grinning. “Oh goodness no, I would never do that!” she replied. “I was simply asking what her plans were after her shift guarding the gates.”

No one believed that for a second, but no one questioned her either.

“Now, busiest shop, bar none, will be Honeydukes, so hows about we head there first, yeah?” Professor Spring asked, changing the subject.

To Harriet’s surprise, despite Ronnie’s constant talk of Honeydukes since Diagon Alley, it was AJ who looked the most excited at this prospect.

“Oh my gosh definitely! I’ll finally get to introduce you all to ma little sister, Mable!”

“She’s staying in Hogsmeade? Who with?” Hermione asked interested.

“They live with the Flumes, the family who run Honeydukes,” AJ explained.

“She lives in Honeydukes?!” Ronnie asked, gaping jealously.

“Yeah, her, our cousin, Babette, the niece of the folks that run the shop, Lucy, and two other girls who’re still too young for Hogwarts.”

Ronnie groaned and Professor Spring laughed. “Right then, Honeydukes it is!”

Honeydukes turned out to be everything Ronnie dreamed it would be. Harriet was sure it would have surpassed even her portly cousin Dudley’s wildest fantasies. Every wall, from floor to ceiling, was covered in sweets.

There were bins upon bins of toffees, chocolate nougats and sheets of coconut ice. Harriet passed a barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees, a sherbet ball that made one levitate when set on the tongue. There was even a section called “Unusual Tastes” which featured blood-flavoured lollipops and a tub that looked like caramel corn but was labelled “Cockroach Cluster.”

Despite getting in to Hogsmeade early, already the shop was crammed full of students taking in all the sights and smells and samples. The revelry over the sweets was punctuated by a squeal of delight and a streak of blonde hair that shot across the shop and slammed into AJ with enough force to stagger her backwards a couple steps.

“HAH! Hey little sis! Ever’body, meet mah little sister, Mable,” AJ said turning the younger girl around.

Mable turned out to be AJ in miniature. She beamed around at everyone before looking up at AJ. “Is Ben coming?”

“Yeah he’ll be along,” AJ said rolling her eyes. “You know how he is, slow and steady.”

“Fooey,” Mable grumbled before grinning and running back across the shop and returning with four more girls in tow. Two looked to be around Mable’s age. One was willowy and blonde, and looked as though her legs had done most of her growing so far. The other was stockier with a round face and strawberry blonde hair. The other two had dark brown hair and looked to be seven or eight.

“Hey cousin AJ!” the willowy girl said giving AJ a hug.

“Hey, Babette!” AJ replied smiling and hugging the girl back.

“These are our other friends!” Mable said excitedly. “Lucy Flume, her aunt and uncle run the shop here.”

“’Lo,” Lucy said awkwardly looking around at everyone.

“And this is Eloise and Ava Ginsburg, they came with us from ‘Merica,” Mable said indicating the younger girls.

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Basheera said politely.

“How come you’re wearing that scarf?” Eloise asked looking at Basheera’s hijab.

Harriet expected Basheera to be offended, but to her surprise she smiled. “It is a mark of modesty and morality in my faith,” Basheera said simply.

“Ohhhh I see,” Eloise said nodding. “It’s really pretty.”

“I like the pattern,” Ava agreed.

Basheera smiled wider. “Would you two like some of your own?”

“YEAH!” Both exclaimed with wide eyes.

Basheera beamed. “I tell you what, when I get back to the castle tonight I will pick two of my favourites for you two and have them sent down, how about that?”

The girls both looked as though it was an early Christmas. Hermione was smiling in approval.

“That was a very nice thing to do,” she said as Mable and the other girls moved off.

“You played it so cool, too,” Marcus said nodding.

Basheera shrugged. “They are good kids. I get used to people asking about it, honestly, I’ve met other kids twice their age who were much, much ruder about it,” she paused and pursed her lips. “And even some teachers…”

“Is that why you left Beauxbatons?” Lavender asked.

Basheera simply shrugged and they followed Professor Spring out of the shop and down the Hogsmeade high street, their money bags all much lighter and weighed down now by sacks of sweets instead.

After Honeydukes, they went to Dervish and Bangs where they replenished school supplies such as quills and ink. Then they made their way to the post office, where Harriet marvelled at the hordes of owls that surrounded them all. There were owls of all shapes and sizes, arranged by how far and fast they could fly. There was a considerable delay when Ronnie spotted the shelf of tiny scops owls and Harriet and the other girls all gathered around to coo over them.

After the post office they finally found their way to Zonkos. Harriet was amused to see Professor Spring studying some of the jokes to figure out how they work, and also looking at some of them a bit reminiscently. Once, she was sure she overheard her muttering out loud: “Oh gawd, Tonks and I used these all the time!”

“Is it just me, or is she making anyone else regret not taking Muggle Studies?” Dora hissed in Harriet’s ear. Harriet giggled. Professor Spring did seem like a lot of fun.

After Zonkos, they finally made their way to the shop Harriet had been anticipating the most, Dusk Til Dawn. It was an average sized shop by the looks of it, but the inside had clearly been enlarged. Harriet gasped as she took it all in. It was a wonderland of every type of Muggle clothes imaginable.

Parvati and Lavender in particular looked as though they had died and gone to heaven.

“Shoes… so many shoes… so many,” Harriet overheard Parvati murmuring as she and Lavender broke off from the group and made their way to the shoes section.

Harriet meanwhile had no idea where to begin. Should she start with the dresses, or the shoes, or the tops section, or bottoms?

“Ah, little Harriet Potter. I was wondering when you were going to finally make your way into my humble shop,” said a gruff, deep voice behind her.

Harriet turned slowly on the spot to find herself nose to torso with a tall, strapping man with dark eyes, which Harriet couldn’t quite tell if they were dark blue or possibly even purple, a small soul-patch on his chin, long black hair done back in a ponytail and a gold-hoop earring in his left ear.

He was beaming down at Harriet in a warm way that almost struck Harriet as fatherly. She didn’t even know who the man was, but she couldn’t help but feel a connection to him, much like the feeling she’d had seeing Professor Lupin for the first time.

The man held out his hand. “Daniel Dusk, owner of Dusk til Dawn, and it has been a very long time since I last laid eyes on you, Harriet Potter, not since you were knee-high to an eagle-owl.”

“Uh ch-charmed,” Harriet said anxiously as she took Mr Dusk’s hands and he shook vigorously.

Mr Dusk smiled around at the rest of Harriet’s friends. “Hmmm, now let’s see… how many more of you can I pick out, don’t tell me… ahh you there, you’re a Weasley, no doubt,” he said pointing at Ronnie.

“It’s the hair isn’t it?” Ronnie said in an ever-suffering voice.

“And the freckles,” Mr Dusk said. “And how much you look like those two,” he said pointing across the shop. They all turned to see Fred and George sitting together on a bench outside some changing rooms, looking miserable holding piles of clothes in each of their laps that Angelina, Alicia, Erica and Katie Bell had undoubtedly had the twins hold for them while they tried others on.

“They suckered us, George,” Fred said just loud enough to be heard.

“We never had a chance,” George replied, sounding as though they were being led to the gallows.

“It was the smiles, they blinded us with smiles.”

“Smiles, and devious, devious giggling…”

It was Ronnie’s turn to look like Christmas had come early.

“And you there, lad,” Mr Dusk said turning his attention on Neville. “Neville Longbottom, right?”

Neville’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

Mr Dusk grinned. “Spittin’ image of your mum,” he said.

To Harriet’s surprise, Neville did not look touched at this revelation. Instead, his face fell and he looked very awkward. Mr Dusk seemed to notice and changed focus at once.

“And you, dear, you could only be daughter of Jessica Flamel, née Rosier,” he said to Dora who beamed and nodded.

“It’s ever so nice to meet you, sir,” Dora said politely.

He turned his attention now to Kieran and smiled but his expression softened. “And you lad, Sean and Irene’s son, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kieran replied.

Mr Dusk turned to Scott and studied him closely. “Hmmmmm, feel like I should know… Ah! Got it. You’re a McIntyre.”

Scott blinked and raised his eyebrows impressed. “Yeah, Scott McIntyre.”

Mr Dusk smiled and looked around at the rest. “Those of you I don’t recognize I apologize it just means I probably did not go to school with your parents,” he admitted though he smirked at Rachel, AJ and Tori. “Though some of you I definitely already know.”

“Well we’ll finally leave you alone when you finally ask Professor Sinistra out!” Rachel said putting her hands on her hip.

“Oy!” Mr Dusk laughed. “Watch it you,” he said though his eyes were twinkling brightly. “’ello Abby, how’s being back on the old stomping grounds?”

“Stuffy and boring now I have to be the respectable one,” she replied.

Daniel laughed. “I’d like to see you try,” he said though his face softened. “And how’s Remus?”

“Uh, ill again, but you probably knew that,” Professor Spring said enigmatically.

Daniel simply nodded. “Well tell him to get off his bookish arse and head down for a drink every now and again, alright?”

Professor Spring smiled and nodded.

“Same goes for Stratton. Been almost twenty years since I was one of his students. Anyway,” he clapped his hands and smiled down at the students. “I won’t keep you lot from your shopping, though maybe let me steal Harriet for just a sec, eh Spring?” he asked Professor Spring.

Professor Spring held up her hands and agreed. “Well probably no safer hands to leave her with in Hogsmeade than yours, Daniel,” she said laughing.

“Good good,” Mr Dusk said and steered Harriet away from the group.

He smiled down at her and Harriet couldn’t help but notice his expression had softened a great deal. He was still smiling, but there was a definite hint of concern.

“So, how are you holding up, Harriet?” he asked solicitously.

“With school you mean?” Harriet asked, confused.

“Well, yeah, and just, in general?” he asked leaning back on the counter and looking down at her, his eyes moving back and forth between hers, as if attempting to look inside her to spot some secret ailment. “Given the um, occasion?”

Harriet wasn’t quite sure what he meant by ‘occasion,’ but shrugged. “I’m okay I guess, I mean, a lot’s happened this year…”

Mr Dusk twisted his mouth thoughtfully as he kept studying Harriet. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something more before stopping and changing his mind. “How’ve you liked studying under Professor Lupin?” he asked though Harriet was sure that wasn’t what he was going to ask at first.

“He’s great,” Harriet replied honestly. “I’ve learned loads already, just…” Harriet trailed off, thinking of the boggart and how Professor Lupin had stepped in to keep Harriet from facing it.

“Just?” Mr Dusk pressed.

“It’s nothing, he just… didn’t let me face the boggart like everyone else did,” Harriet admitted though she immediately regretted it. She felt like a tattle-tale somehow.

Mr Dusk raised his eyebrows. “Well that doesn’t sound like him… not the Remus I know… Though I suppose he may have worried about the rest of the class reacting to your boggart more than you…” he said scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“The rest of the class?” Harriet asked.

“Well, given your history I’m assuming your biggest fear would be Lord Voldemort, right?” Mr Dusk asked.

Harriet was taken quite aback at this. There were only two people other than herself she had ever heard say the name “Voldemort” aloud without cringing: Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Howe.

“I, well, I had thought of Voldemort, but, then I thought of those Dementors…”

“Hmmm…” Mr Dusk said thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should ask Professor Lupin about that? Maybe he’d give you a chance with another one? Because even if it was a Dementor, that would have probably caused panic.”

“Yeah, good chance,” Harriet admitted.

Mr Dusk smiled. “Well, tell you what, Harriet. As it’s been such a long time, and in honour of, well, the time of year… how about you pick out your favourite outfit you can find in my shop and it’s yours.”

“Mine?” Harriet asked, astonished.

“Yours. Think of it as twelve years’ of missed birthday presents,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

“I-I couldn’t,” Harriet said shaking her head.

“Well in that case I’ll pick something out and make you take it, but I figured letting you pick it out would be a better guarantee it would be something you’d like and fits,” he said chuckling.

Harriet flushed and nodded. She turned and made her way back to her friends who were all looking at her a little jealously again.

Harriet hunted around the shop and finally found an outfit she thought she liked enough to be her present. It was a cream-coloured long-sleeved jumper with maroon edging on the cuffs and collar; a matching maroon, white, and gold tartan skirt, a matching hairband, and a pair of matching cream tights and knee-high socks to go along with it.

“Oh no-no-no,” Parvati said shaking her head.

“What’s wrong with it?” Harriet asked blushing as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“The shoes,” Parvati said pointing down at Harriet’s feet. “Those so don’t work. C’mon,” Parvati said and took Harriet’s arm, pulling her through the shop to the shoes section.

After another half hour’s hunting, they settled upon a pair of soft-leather, tan moccasins. Harriet had to admit, Parvati did know her stuff when it came to shoes. They definitely matched the style, and were very comfortable.

Harriet graciously accepted the gift from Mr Dusk and decided to wear it out of the shop. They were just about to leave the shop when Scott was stopped by someone grabbing his arm.

“Hey, y-you’re in Ravenclaw, right?” a timid voice asked.

Harriet turned to see a boy who looked to be around their age, maybe a year older or younger, she had never seen before looking at Scott anxiously. He had very curly brown hair and blue eyes, with a round face and broad shoulders for his age.

“Um, yeah?” Scott replied, a bemused expression on his face.

“Oh, good, um, do you know Antoinette well?”

“Antoinette?” Scott asked. “No… no I don’t think so?”

“Ohhhh you mean Toni!” Rachel said. “Toni Middleton, she’s a year behind us,” she explained to Scott.

“Y-yeah,” the boy said. “But I call her Antoinette… I think it’s prettier… anyway, uh sorry, I’m Hyland, Hyland Stevens. Would you do me a favour?” he asked Scott. “I mean you don’t gotta, but, would you give this to her?” he said handing Scott a package.

“Oh, sure, what is it?” Scott asked.

“A present, for her birthday,” Hyland said. “I know it’s not till December but I can’t go to the school and she’s not old enough to come to Hogsmeade so…”

Scott smiled. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take it to her. Should I tell her it’s from you?”

Hyland smiled sheepishly. “Think she’ll know it’s from me,” he said before turning and walking away without another word.

Professor Spring smiled. “That was nice of you, McIntyre.”

“Who is he?” Ronnie asked, looking after the boy curiously.

“Hyland’s lived in Hogsmeade his whole life. An orphan, was just abandoned in the town when he was only six-months old,” Professor Spring explained sadly. “I remember him when I was still at Hogwarts. Whole town pretty much adopted him. He helps out around all the shops, but he lives with the old bartender of the Hog’s Head, which is not the first choice but he seems to get on well enough.”

“Why doesn’t he go to Hogwarts,” Marcus asked. “He’s old enough.”

Professor Spring’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. “Well, Van De Lakk, that’d be because he’s a squib. At least the letter he was left with said he was. Poor kid…”

“Do… do squibs often get abandoned?” Hermione asked in a very little voice.

Professor Spring shook her head. “It’s pretty rare these days, though I can’t imagine how the real parents coulda known at only six-months. I mean magic usually doesn’t show itself until kids’re seven or so… anyway, let’s get on with the day, yeah?”

Without waiting for an answer, Professor Spring led them to the Three Broomsticks. It was run by a curvy, pretty, raven-haired woman named Madam Rosmerta who gave a cry of delight as Professor Spring stepped through the door and rushed over to hug her.

“There’s my little Abigaaaaail!” Madam Rosmerta cooed hugging Professor Spring tight.

“’ello Rosie, missed me that much?”

“Oh not a day goes by I don’t miss you and Tonks causing a ruckus about the pub,” Madam Rosmerta said happily.

“And that was just the days when we worked here during the summer!” Professor Spring replied and Madam Rosmerta threw her head back and laughed loudly. It was then Harriet noticed that all the boys had gone rather quiet and were determinedly not looking at Madam Rosmerta.

Madam Rosmerta guided them all to two large tables nearby and brought them together to give the group enough room. She served them all butterbeers which were probably the most delicious drinks Harriet had ever had. They filled her with a warmth that seemed to sooth rather than make her hot on the already warm day. She also served them fresh fish and chips, a house specialty.

Again Harriet couldn’t help but notice the boys getting nervous and quiet whenever Madam Rosmerta came to the table. All of the girls, with the exception of Dora, seemed rather annoyed by this. Ronnie actually aimed a kick at Marcus under the table as he leaned back a little to keep Madam Rosmerta in view as she made her way back to the bar. Harriet glanced at Dora again and saw Dora too following Madam Rosmerta and studying her closely.

“What, trying to get pointers?” Harriet teased.

“What?” Dora asked and turned her gaze back to Harriet. “Oh, uh yeah, you know,” she said and hastily began drinking her butterbeer and going almost as red as Ronnie’s hair.

Harriet raised an eyebrow and debated pressing the subject, but everyone was starting to chat and laugh again so she decided to drop it. She was quite enjoying herself when she became aware of quiet muttering going on behind her. She turned to see a group of Hufflepuffs gathered around Zacharias Smith. While most of the people Harriet disliked at Hogwarts came from Slytherin House, Zacharias was the one exception. Just last year she had started a massive food fight in the Great Hall by hitting Zacharias in the forehead with an orange after he launched a bowl of hot soup onto Rachel’s head, burning her neck.

“I reckon the rumours are true,” Zacharias was whispering and looking at Jackson. “His boggart was a bleedin’ gun… what more would a murderer have to be afraid of than the murder weapon?”

“Oh seriously, Zacharias,” Hannah Abbot said. “You spent all last year going on about how Harriet could only be the Heir of Slytherin and look how right you were about that?”

“Just because she killed the basilisk doesn’t mean she’s not guilty!” Zacharias declared. “She probably did it to cover he tracks before someone found out it was her.”

There was more angry muttering and half the group of Hufflepuffs left the table. Zacharias glared after them angrily but then caught Harriet’s eye and realized she had heard everything.

The door chimed again and this time Jeremy Owens and Isabella Martinez entered, followed by some of their other Hufflepuff friends, Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been petrified by Riddle’s basilisk the year before; the blond American McGee twins, and the very shy blond girl, Skye Sutler, who almost missed her own sorting because she was too afraid to let Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on her head.

At once, Zacharias launched into gossip.

“Owens, he’s another who’s been rubbing me the wrong way, lately.”

“He’s been rubbing you the wrong way since you got in a fight with him last year,” one of the remaining Hufflepuffs said in an ever-suffering voice.

“But he’s been ill so often!” Zacharias insisted. “He was sick once a month last year, then he was sick when school started this year, he was sick at the end of September, and it’s the end of October and he’s sick yet again!”

“Well, he still managed to make it in to Hogsmeade,” another Hufflepuff said shrugging. “And it’s obviously nothing contagious or they wouldn’t let him stay in our dorm would they?”

Zacharias pursed his lips watching as the newly arrived group sat down on the other side of the dining room.

“He’s stopped putting in the same effort in classes, and you remember his boggart, what was up with that?”

“So, some people are just more sensitive than others.”

“But it turned into all of us, just kept changing and changing, all of us one after another, all calling him a monster before it just blew up! Like he overloaded it! But see that word, we all called him “monster?” Why would he—”

“Oh I can’t take this anymore,” another Hufflepuff said and the rest of the Hufflepuffs sitting around Zacharias got up and left to go sit with Jeremy and the rest instead. Zacharias caught Harriet’s eye again and she gave him a very smug smirk and he glowered before finishing his food, getting up and leaving the pub in a huff.

Even though Harriet was already fuller than she had ever been from all the good food at the Three Broomsticks and the Honeydukes’ sweets, she was very excited for the feast that night. The food was always excellent, and the entertainment even more so. This year was no exception. Live bats fluttered and swooped around the ceiling, dodging long streamers of bright-orange flame that lit the Great Hall as though a large bonfire was burning in the middle of the room, aided by the light of hundreds of candle-filled jack-o-lanterns that lined the walls.

The finale was done by the Hogwarts ghosts, who did a spot of formation flying like an air show, and even Nearly-Headless Nick showed his good humour by engaging in a re-enactment of how his beheading had gone so awry. Harriet supposed in any other instance the event would have been horrifying, but having known Nick for so long, and as he was dead there was no blood, it didn’t quite seem as terrible as it probably was in real life.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore rose to tell them all it was time to go to bed. The students all filed from the Great Hall and Harriet bid goodnight to Scott and Dora who re-joined their houses to head back to their common rooms. The Gryffindors took the familiar path up to Gryffindor Tower, however, just as they arrived in the corridor that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it was crammed full of students all milling about, confused and whispering nervously.

“What’s going on? Why’s everyone just standing around?” Ginny asked as she joined them.

“Dunno,” Ronnie replied, going up on tip-toe to try and peer over the crowd. “The portrait’s still shut.”

“Move aside, lemme through, come on now,” they heard Percy grumbling as he made their way past them through the crowd. “Head Boy coming through, seriously you can’t all have forgotten the password, what the devi—” Percy stopped talking abruptly before barking authoritatively “Somebody go get Professor Dumbledore, now!”

A fourth year boy nodded and ran back down the corridor and down the stairs. He returned two minutes later with Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall in tow, both looking very serious. The crowd parted and Harriet stepped into the gap behind them and finally got a look at what the fuss was about as they reached the portrait hole. Hermione gasped and grabbed Harriet’s arm tight in shock.

The Fat Lady was gone, and there were great slashes across the canvas, as if by great claws or a knife. Professor Dumbledore turned back to look at Professor McGonagall as well as Lupin and Snape who had just arrived.

“We need to find the Fat Lady and find out what happened. Professor McGonagall, find Mr Filch and tell him to scour every painting in the castle until she’s found.”

“Fat chance of that!” cackled the unmistakable voice of Peeves, the Poltergeist.

“And what do you mean by that, Peeves?” Professor Dumbledore asked, and although his voice remained calm, Harriet felt a chill run down her back and even Peeves’ grin faltered and his voice lost its cackle. Clearly, Peeves did not dare to taunt the Headmaster, and just as clearly, Professor Dumbledore was in no mood to put up with Peeves’ games.

“Oh she’s most ashamed, your Headship. Last saw her darting between the trees on the fourth-floor’s landscape, crying bloody murder and looking a terrible, terrible mess!” Peeves said floating over onto his head and grinning merrily at the thought of the Fat Lady’s fright.

“Uh, poor thing,” Peeves added, though he fooled no one.

“And did she say who attacked her?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“Oh yes, Professorhead,” Peeves said, his grin growing wider and wider. “He got so very angry when she wouldn’t let him in. Such a nasty temper he has…”

“Who has?” Professor McGonagall pressed, though by the look of terror on her face, Harriet was sure both of what the answer was, and that Professor McGonagall was sure too.

“Why Professor, Sirius Black of course!”

Chapter Text

“The staff and I are going to be conducting a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore said.

They were back in the Great Hall now. Not just the Gryffindors, but the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins as well. Dora and Scott kept stealing confused and curious glances at Harriet and the rest, but as Professor Dumbledore was speaking no one dared interrupt.

“I am afraid that for your safety you will all remain here for the night. The prefects will stand watch over the entrance and the Head Boy and Girl are in charge,” Professor Dumbledore went on. He turned to Percy who was looking very proud indeed. “Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Percy said. “I’ll send word with one of the ghosts.”

“Very good,” Professor Dumbledore replied.

Then, to Percy’s horror, Professor Dumbledore turned to AJ’s brother, Ben. “Mister Jackson, dangerous though it is, I am going to ask for your help in the search. Your knowledge of the passages of the castle should prove invaluable. You can assist Mr Filch.”

“Of course, sir,” Ben said, sounding very serious as he drew his wand.

Professor Dumbledore looked past Percy’s scandalized face and looked over the gathered students. He drew his wand gracefully and waved it casually. The house tables all rose into the air and flew over the students’ heads to the walls where they stacked themselves neatly. He gave a flick and another wave and a giant pile of mattress pads and sleeping bags materialized in the middle of the room.

“Do sleep well,” Professor Dumbledore, leading Ben and the rest of the staff into the Entrance Hall.

At once, the Great Hall was filled with the buzzing of hushed voices as Gryffindor students hurried to spread the gossip of what happened to their friends in the other houses. Dora and Scott rushed over, eager to learn what had happened themselves.

“What’s going on? All Snape told us was there was an incident and we needed to go to the Great Hall,” Dora asked.

“It was Sirius Black,” Marcus said, his tone very serious. “It looks like he tried to get into Gryffindor Tower while we were all down at the feast. He attacked the Fat Lady; must have used a knife because there were great tears all across the canvas.”

Scott looked stricken.

Dora looked terrified and clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she gasped into her hands. “Is Emma okay?”

“Uh,” Ronnie muttered and looked around.

Harriet felt her heart sink. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Emma since breakfast that morning.

“Emma?!” Dora called frantically. “Has anyone seen Emma!?”

“N-no,” said a timid looking first-year Gryffindor girl.

“Oh no!” Nanette Sinistra gasped clapping her own hands to her mouth. “She said she wasn’t feeling well before the feast and she was going to lie down!”

“So she’s still in Gryffindor Tower then?” Harriet asked.

“Well, at least she’ll be safe there—Dora!” Hermione exclaimed as Dora started running towards the door but Percy blocked the way.

“Flamel! What do you think you’re doing?” Percy asked, as Dora tried to push past him.

“My sister’s still in Gryffindor Tower, idiot!” she declared, her voice shrill in her haste to get past Percy.

Harriet stared. This was a side of Dora that Harriet had never seen before, and though it was unexpected, Harriet found herself greatly moved. Up until now, Dora had been perfectly eager to push her sister Emma headlong into any situation Emma was too afraid to do otherwise. Now that she was possibly in danger, however, Dora looked less like a pretty blonde copy of her mother, and more like a very angry wolverine.

To Harriet’s greater surprise, she had expected Percy to get even angrier, he instead tried to calm Dora down.

“Flamel, calm down. The Fat Lady who guards the entrance has run off, you can’t get in,” he said in a soothing voice.

“But she can get out! What if she leaves while Black’s still in the castle!” Dora shrieked and swatted away Percy’s hands as he tried to put them on her shoulders to calm her.

“Dora dear,” Penelope Clearwater said hurrying over. “We’ll find her. We’ll send one of the ghosts into the tower to look for her, is that alright?”

“Very good idea, Penny. How about that, Flamel?” Percy asked.

While she didn’t look entirely thrilled about it, Dora nodded.

“Good,” Penelope said and turned to a female ghost floating nearby. “Grey Lady, would you please go to Gryffindor Tower and look for a student named Emma Flamel—what year is your sister, Dora?”

“First year,” Dora said. She trailed off as her anger seemed to give over to fear and she barely stifled a sob.

The ghost nodded and floated off through the door to the Entrance Hall.

“There,” Penelope said putting an arm around Dora’s shoulder and guiding her back to Harriet and her friends. “We’ll find her and bring her right back.”

Dora nodded, apparently unable to speak as she clutched her arms tight around her chest. Harriet, Hermione and Ronnie hurried over and took over, all holding Dora as Scott and Marcus laid out a mattress pad and sleeping bag for her. The girls helped Dora down onto it where she sat hugging her legs to her chest.

The boys collected more sleeping bags and mattress pads for everyone and they all pushed them together in a circle. They sat and waited. No one dared speak until they knew for sure that Emma was safe.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Percy checked it cautiously but smiled in relief and pulled the door open. The first to come through was the ghost who had gone to look for Emma, the next was Ben who entered carrying Emma in his arms the same way Doctor Watkins had carried Harriet from her room to the Dursley’s couch in Privet Drive over the summer. However, it wasn’t just Emma. Clutched tightly in Emma’s arms was—

“Crookshanks?” Hermione asked looking confused.

The great ginger cat was looking around the room, perched almost defensively on Emma’s chest as if daring anyone to approach the frightened girl as Ben carried her over the threshold.

Dora shrieked and ran as fast as she could towards them. Ben lowered Emma, who kept Crookshanks clutched tight to her chest, as Dora caught up and went up on tip-toe, hugging her taller little sister so tight Harriet was sure she was going to crush both Emma and Crookshanks. Crookshanks yowled in protest and Emma finally let go of the cat who dropped to the floor and trotted to Hermione who was still looking at her cat with great confusion.

“Filch and I were still in the Entrance Hall checking the front door for any possible tampering when the Grey Lady came out. She told us what the situation was so we followed her up to Gryffindor tower. She found Emma hiding under her bed,” Ben explained.

“Apparently she heard Black trying to get in and ran and hid. The cat I guess ran under with her. She wouldn’t let go of it and the cat actually scratched up Filch when he tried to take it from her,” Ben explained to Percy as Filch came in, looking grouchy as ever with noticeable red scratches on his face and hands.

“How’d you get her out?” Percy asked, looking equal parts relieved, impressed, and resentful.

“Grey Lady talked her into coming out,” Ben said. “Filch and I were waiting outside and she finally came out and we brought her back down here.”

“He was so angry…” Emma whispered as she rested her head on Dora’s shoulder. “So angry…”

“It’s okay honey,” Dora said finally breaking the hug and guiding Emma over to the rest. “You’re safe, the teachers are gonna find him, we’re all okay.”

Dora sounded as though she was choking back tears, but the look of relief on her face told Harriet they were at least tears of happiness.

“That was good work, Jackson,” Percy said, trying to sound congratulatory but still with a hint of resentment in his voice.

“Glad she’s safe,” Ben said simply. “Right Filch, back to the search.”

Filch scowled with open resentment at being ordered around by a student but didn’t argue as they turned and left. Percy locked the door behind them and stared at the door for a few moments before turning around to the rest of their students.

“Everyone in their sleeping bags,” he called so everyone could hear. “Lights going out in ten minutes.”

“So, think Black escaped?” Marcus asked.

“Dunno,” Ronnie said sounding worried.

“Probably,” Scott reasoned. He looked as though he was thinking very hard.

“Lucky he picked tonight,” Hermione said as she slid into her sleeping bag. “The one night we were, well, were almost all down here, and not in the tower.”

Hermione gave an anxious glance at Dora and Emma but neither made any indication they had heard. Dora had pushed her and Emma’s mattress pads together and opened up her sleeping bag like a blanket and the two sisters were cuddled together underneath it, Dora just holding Emma as tight as she could and staring blankly into space.

“He must have lost track of time after so many years in Azkaban and so long on the run,” Harriet suggested. She was trying to sound braver than she felt. There could have only been one reason why Black had broken in and gone straight to Gryffindor Tower. He had been going after her.

Kieran seemed to sense Harriet’s discomfort and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I… I don’t think so…” Scott said scratching his chin. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Why not?” Marcus asked.

“Well… he may not have known it was Halloween day… but he can’t have lost track of the time that much, can he? I mean it’s not that late… wouldn’t he start to wonder why he wasn’t seeing anyone in the halls? I mean… anyone?”

“That’s… that’s true…” Hermione agreed.

Harriet thought about it and Scott did have a point.

“Though, he may have known what day it was… and maybe was trying to sneak into the tower to take everyone by surprise when we got back?” Kieran suggested.

“Maybe…” Scott said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“He must know a secret way in,” Hermione said.

“Why do you say that?” Marcus asked.

“Well, he can’t have come in the front door, or he would have heard us all in here.”

“That’s a very good point too,” Scott said. “I don’t know… something about this just doesn’t feel… right? Is that the word? Right?” he muttered and rubbed his eyes hard with the palms of his hands.

“How did he even get in in the first place?” Harriet heard a nearby Ravenclaw ask. “With all the Dementors around?”

“Must have a disguise or something that can fool them,” another Ravenclaw replied.

“Could have stolen a broom and flown in,” Dean Thomas suggested.

“Simplest answer is he can apparate,” suggested an older Hufflepuff boy.

“What, without a wand?” another hissed.

“How do we know he doesn’t have one?”

“Honestly,” Hermione grunted as she stroked Crookshanks’ fluffy fur. “Hasn’t anyone read Hogwarts: A History outside the section with the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Me,” Scott said.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Why?” Ronnie asked.

“Because there’s more protecting the school than walls and a door,” Hermione replied. “There are all sorts of enchantments protecting the castle and the grounds. It’s impossible to apparate or disapparate anywhere in the grounds for one. The Dementors are guarding every entrance to the grounds, and they would have sensed him flying in, and Filch knows all the secret passages—”

“Okay lights out, now!” Percy shouted. “No more talking anyone, everyone in your sleeping bags, get along now!”

The candles all went out. It would have been pitch black if not for the ghosts giving off their pale silver light, almost like the charmed animals that Professors Flitwick, Spring and Sinistra had conjured earlier that day: patronuses. The room was also lit by the light of the looming full moon floating above them.

“You think Jeremy’s okay?” Harriet heard Isabella hiss nearby.

“What do you mean?” asked one of the McGee twins.

“Well, he was… you know, he went back to the Hospital Wing after Hogsmeade.”

“He’ll be fine,” Cedric Diggory whispered as he patrolled among the sleeping bags. “I’m sure they have the Hospital Wing on lock-down too, don’t worry.”

“Okay, thanks Cedric,” Isabella sighed.

Every hour, one of the teachers stopped in to check on the situation. It took a long time for everyone to fall asleep, and the quiet whispers that kept sweeping over the Great Hall sounded like soft breezes. In fact, if Harriet hadn’t known better, she would have felt as though she was camping on the ground outside under a moonlit sky.

Ronnie finally fell asleep around two thirty, her deep breathing slow and steady, mixed in with intermittent snores. Harriet was just about to drop off herself when the door opened once more and Professor Dumbledore returned. Percy was nearby, telling some other students off for talking and Professor Dumbledore made his way over. Harriet closed her eyes as the Headmaster drew near.

“Any sign of him, sir?” Percy asked.

“No. I see everything is in hand here.”

“Yes sir,” Percy said, his voice filling with pride. “We had a slight hiccup over the younger Flamel sister, but we sorted that out.”

“Yes, Mr Jackson informed me of the incident.”

Even with her eyes closed, Harriet could sense Percy tensing at Ben’s name.

“That was a well handled situation, Mr Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Just as I expected.”

“Oh, th-thank you, headmaster,” Percy said, sounding abashed.

Professor Dumbledore sighed. “There’s no point moving everyone now they’re mostly asleep. I have found a replacement for the Fat Lady for the time being.”

“And the Fat Lady, herself, sir?”

“Mr Filch found her in the map of Argyllshire on the second floor. She refused Black entrance without the password, naturally, and so he attacked. She’s still most distressed but once she’s come to her senses I shall have her restored.”

The door creaked open again and Harriet heard more footsteps approaching.

“Headmaster?” asked the voice of Professor Snape.

“Yes, Severus?”

“I searched the whole of the third floor, he’s not there. Spring and Flitwick say the second floor is clear as well, and McGonagall and Sprout have cleared the first floor.”

“What of the dungeons?”

“Jackson and Filch found nothing.”

“I see. And Aurora’s tower? Sybill’s room? The Owlery?”

“All have been searched, Headmaster. He’s not here.”

Professor Dumbledore sighed. “Very well, Severus. Not that I expected him to linger.”

“Have you any theory on how he got in, sir?” Professor Snape asked.

“Many, Severus, though I count all of them highly unlikely.”

“You remember our conversation from the start of term, Headmaster,” Professor Snape went on. His voice sounded strained, as though he was barely opening his lips.

Harriet lifted her head by the tiniest amount and opened her eyes just enough to squint up. Professor Dumbledore’s face seemed sombre, but Professor Snape’s was taut with his usual angry look. Percy meanwhile was looking back and forth between the two with rapt attention. Harriet wondered if Snape was talking like that to block Percy out of the conversation.

“I do,” Professor Dumbledore said with surprising curtness. Even Professor Snape looked taken aback, but he pressed on anyway.

“Well, you have to admit, it seems nearly impossible that Black could have gotten in here without inside—”

“I do not believe, and never will, that a single person within this castle would help Black enter it,” Professor Dumbledore replied. Professor Snape now looked as though Dumbledore had slapped him.

Professor Dumbledore gave another sigh and seemed to regain his composure. “I must go down to the Dementors, inform them that the search is over.”

“The Dementors?” Percy asked. “Couldn’t they have helped with the search? I bet they would have found him in no time,” Percy suggested.

Professor Dumbledore paused. “That is possible. However, no Dementor shall ever pass the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster.”

Without another word, Professor Dumbledore strode off to the door to the Entrance Hall and left. Percy was left standing where he was, his mouth gaping. Professor Snape however was watching after Professor Dumbledore with great resentment. A few moments passed before Snape strode off to the Entrance Hall as well.

Harriet turned her head to see that all her friends but Dora were looking back at her. By the looks of it, even Ronnie had been awoken and had listened in.

“What was that about?” Ronnie asked, whispering as quietly as she could.

Harriet shrugged.

“Let’s try and get some sleep,” Hermione hissed and to Harriet’s surprise, she reached out to her sides and actually took both Harriet and Ronnie’s hands and gave them tight squeezes and didn’t let go. Harriet squeezed back and was just about to close her eyes to sleep when she felt another hand take her other hand. She looked to see that Dora was laying on her back now, Emma’s head on her shoulder, clearly asleep. Dora was looking at Harriet, her blue eyes glinting in the dim light.

Harriet did her best to give Dora a reassuring smile and gave her hand a squeeze. Dora returned the squeeze and gently rubbed her thumb over the top of Harriet’s hand. The gesture struck Harriet for some reason.

Perhaps because it was so gentle and it was coming from the same girl who had threatened to unleash ravenous species of termites on Harriet’s aunt and uncle’s house?

Dora finally gave one soft little smile, and closed her eyes. Harriet looked side to side, seeing everyone else dropping off before she too closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Things did not improve much for Harriet over the next few days. First of all, Sirius Black remained the main topic of gossip throughout the school for almost a week. The theories of how he had got in and what he was after grew more and more elaborate with each retelling.

The most irksome change to all the Gryffindors was who Professor Dumbledore had found to replace the Fat Lady. It was Sir Cadogan, the short knight who Rachel had sweet talked into showing them the way Professor Trelawney’s classroom. The trouble was, he was a little over enthusiastic in carrying out his orders to guard the portrait hole at all cost. He challenged every boy who approached to a duel, sometimes even after they gave the correct password.

He wasn’t much better with girls either. He didn’t challenge them to duels, but he did take on an air of suspicion, which doubled if any girl did try and sweet-talk him. Most of the girls, Harriet included, found this even more insulting than being challenged to duels.

“At least after boys accept the duel and he realizes they can’t actually duel he sort of trusts the boys,” Tori grumbled to widespread agreement at the end of the first week of Sir Cadogan’s stint as guardian.

Worst of all, outside the duels and mistrust, was how he changed the passwords at least twice a day.

“Can’t we get someone else?” Seamus growled halfway through the second week of Sir Cadogan’s reign.

“None of the other portraits wanted the job, Finnigan,” Percy grumbled. “Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough, or maybe mad enough, to take the job on.”

Whatever her feelings over Percy had been this past fall, the fact that Percy seemed equally annoyed with Sir Cadogan as the rest of them did win him some points with her. But not that many.

What was worse to Harriet in particular, was how professors and Percy seemed to go out of their way to walk with Harriet wherever she went. While Harriet was touched everyone cared so much and wanted to keep her safe, it was beginning to get a little oppressive.

The worst thing to happen came early the following week when Professor McGonagall summoned Harriet to her office. At first Harriet was wondering what she could have done, but after seeing the look on Professor McGonagall’s face, Harriet was left wondering if someone had died.

“I know you have been made aware of Black and his intentions, Potter, so I’ll get straight to the point,” Professor McGonagall said. She took a deep breath and leaned forward on her desk. “After much discussion, it has been decided that it is unwise for you to attend trips to Hogsmeade for the time being.”

“What?!” Harriet shouted. She was so shocked and angry she actually stood up.

“Sit down, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said.

Harriet did not sit. She was too angry.

“Potter, please sit,” Professor McGonagall insisted. Something about this quieter, calmer request struck Harriet. She looked in Professor McGonagall’s eyes and was surprised to see something there she had never seen before. It was something like pity, but Harriet couldn’t quite be sure. She sat down.

“Understand Potter, Black proved he was perfectly capable of getting in the castle. I know you may think that given that reality what’s the point keeping you in the castle? Well, the point is you can still be better protected in the castle than outside of it. If Black can get this close while you are in the bounds of the castle, just imagine how easily he can attack you in the streets of Hogsmeade.”

Harriet gripped her robes in her hand trying to remain composed. The injustice of it all was washing over her. She’d had the form signed, hadn’t she? Why was she now the only one barred over something she had no control over? It wasn’t fair.

“You must also understand, Potter, that this measure came with some compromises. For instance, you will be allowed to continue your Quidditch training in the evenings, on condition that Madam Hooch oversees your practices.”

Harriet blinked. People had even considered taking Quidditch from her as well over this? Harriet almost felt faint. But at least she hadn’t lost that. Having Madam Hooch around was definitely an acceptable condition for Harriet to keep playing Quidditch.

“This will also only be until Black is captured,” Professor McGonagall added. “Afterwards you will be allowed full access to Hogsmeade on Hogsmeade weekends with the rest of the school.”

Harriet’s friends were sufficiently sympathetic.

“You’re right,” Ronnie declared. “It is stupid, I mean, if Black can get in here, what’s the point?”

“The point,” Hermione said coolly, “is keeping Harriet safe. McGonagall’s right, if he can get this close to Harriet in the castle she’d be a near sitting duck in Hogsmeade.”

Harriet sighed and thumped her forehead down on her still empty lunch plate. She’d lost her appetite after the meeting with Professor McGonagall.

“And you say Ronnie and I have no tact,” Dora growled, sounding rather like Crookshanks bearing down on Scabbers.

“What?” Hermione said, sounding taken quite aback at this.

“Well, I mean it’s not like I always think things out before I say them, but not everything has to boil down to being ‘logical’ does it?”

“But I’m the one who thinks it’s good because it keeps Harriet safe!” Hermione spat slamming her rune dictionary shut.

“Well we all do but there’s better ways of saying that!” Dora hissed.

Hermione stood quickly.

“I have to go, I’ve got to get to Ancient Runes,” she said and shoved her book in her bag and stormed off from the table.

There was an awkward silence and then Ronnie spoke up. “Wait a minute… she can’t be going to Ancient Runes, we have Care of Magical Creatures in twenty minutes…”

“Well, she was a bit upset,” Kieran said, his voice thick with disapproval. “She was probably just making up an excuse…”

There was an awkward pause. “I’ll apologize at dinner…” Dora finally said, sounding genuinely abashed, which Harriet hadn’t thought possible.

Harriet lifted her head finally looking around. Ronnie was still scowling and stabbing uninterested at the peas rolling around her plate with her fork. Kieran and Marcus were not looking at anyone, just leaning over their plates eating. Dora was giving Harriet an apologetic look.

It was Scott’s behaviour that struck her the most. He wasn’t eating, or looking at Harriet. He was looking at the entrance to the Great Hall where Hermione had just left.

Harriet knew that Scott and Hermione got on the best of her friends. He had been nearly killed by Riddle’s basilisk the previous spring when he borrowed Harriet’s invisibility cloak to visit Hermione in the Hospital Wing after she had been petrified and the Hospital Wing had been locked down for safety. But the look on his face puzzled Harriet greatly. It wasn’t concern, it was calculating. His eyes were narrowed and his forehead furrowed. He was rubbing his cheek absent-mindedly.

Harriet never got the chance to ask what had puzzled Scott so much. Harriet’s bad luck did not end with being banned from Hogsmeade. As the first Quidditch match neared, the weather grew worse and worse. It was a constant stream of heavy rain and thunderstorms, and they showed no sign of stopping by their final Quidditch practice before the match. At best, it helped take her mind off the Hogsmeade ban.

To make matters worse, when Wood arrived at the final practice he was in such a rage he slammed the door to the changing room so hard one of the mirrors over the sinks fell off the wall.

“We’re not playing Slytherin!” he raged pacing the floor in a towering temper.

“Oh what?!” Fred exclaimed looking dumbstruck.

“Flint just ran me down on the way here. We’re going to play Hufflepuff instead.”

George swore.

“The hell thought that one up?” Angelina demanded looking equally outraged.

“Flint’s excuse is their Seeker’s arm’s still injured,” Wood grumbled through gritted teeth. “But that’s not the real reason.”

Wood gestured at the ceiling. “The real reason’s they don’t want to play in this weather and damage their chances.”

Almost on cue, there was another roll of thunder.

“There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm,” Harriet growled. “He’s faking it…”

“Of course he’s faking it, but we can’t prove that,” Wood snarled. “And we’ve spent weeks practicing the tactics we worked out to deal with Slytherin’s faster brooms, and instead it’s Hufflepuff.”

“Well it’s not like Hufflepuff’s that big a worry,” Fred said looking over at Harriet. “Last time we played them you caught the snitch in what, five minutes?”

“That was a completely different scenario!” Wood cried pulling at his hair in frustration. “Diggory’s their captain now and he’s an excellent Seeker and he’s put a very strong side together this year.”

“Okay, Oliver, okay,” Alicia said in a calming voice. “We’re not underestimating Hufflepuff.”

“Even if Diggory’s thick as a post,” George muttered.

“He is not thick,” Harriet spat. She didn’t know where it had come from, but everyone was looking at her with bemused looks and Harriet suddenly felt very small.

“I-I mean I agree with Wood,” she said trying to cover. “I beat him last time but just barely. He’s had two years to get ready to fly against me again,” Harriet said.

Most of the team seemed to buy it. The exception was Angelina who kept giving her a raised eyebrow.

By the time the day before the first match arrived, Harriet was starting to feel cursed. The match was on the last Saturday of November, and Harriet was making her way to that Friday’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class. In his panic over the change in their opponent, Wood kept stopping Harriet between lessons to give her tips and ideas that came to his head during class. This time, Wood had kept her so long she suddenly realized she was ten minutes late.

However, Harriet’s heart stopped as she entered the classroom, about to apologize to Professor Lupin for being so late. At least she would have apologized to Professor Lupin, had he been the one behind the desk. Instead, it was Professor Snape giving her a very disapproving look indeed.

“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter,” Professor Snape said. “That calls for ten points from Gryffindor for each minute late. Now sit down so we may continue.”

Harriet scowled but sat as told. Professor Snape turned his attention on the rest of the class. “Now, as I was saying, Professor Lupin did not leave me a record of the topics you have covered so far—”

“Please sir,” Hermione said raising her hand. “we first did Boggarts, then Red Caps, kappas, grindylows, and now—”

“Quiet, Granger, I was not asking for information. I was commenting on Professor Lupin’s poor organization skills and—”

“What’s wrong with him, anyway?” Dean Thomas asked. There were a few murmurs of assent at this.

“Feeling too ill to teach today,” Professor Snape said simply. “Now, I am going to take this class in the proper direction.”

“What?” Seamus protested. “It’s going great, Lupin’s the best—”

“Silence,” Professor Snape snapped. “If this is what you call the best, you are very easily satisfied, Mr Finnigan… I would expect a first year to deal with a Red Cap or a Grindylow…”

“Well maybe but our last two professors were real rubbish, weren’t they?” Harriet said reasonably.

Professor Snape scowled and threw back his shoulders in agitation. Harriet could tell his two biggest impulses were coming into conflict: wanting to tell Harriet off, and yet continue his usual policy of pretending Harriet didn’t exist.

“Well now you are going to get a lesson up to your proper level. You are all to turn to page 394 of your textbook. Now.”

“But sir,” Hermione exclaimed. “That’s the chapter on werewolves, and we’re due to start Hinkypunks—”

“Miss Granger,” Professor Snape interrupted, giving off the impression of an ill-tempered German shepherd that had been pushed well past its breaking point. “Are you teaching this lesson? No, you are not. You will all turn to page 394, everyone, now!”

The class all opened their books, though with widespread mutinous mutterings. Things did not improve as the class went on.

“So, who can tell me the difference between a werewolf, and a true wolf?” Professor Snape asked.

Hermione’s hand punched the air, but Snape ignored her. “No one?” he asked smirking. “Dear, dear… this class never ceases to surprise me… not one of you can spot the difference between a werewolf and a real wolf? Professor Dumbledore will be most displeased to hear how far behind you all—”

“Please Professor,” Hermione insisted waving her hand in the air. “The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several noticeable ways. First of all, the werewolf’s body—”

“You have spoken out of turn twice now, Miss Granger…” Professor Snape said in a cool, though dangerous voice. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Hermione looked on the verge of tears as she put her hand down. The class immediately rushed to Hermione’s defence but to everyone’s surprise, it was Ronnie who was first and loudest.

“You asked us a question and she knew the answer! Why did you ask if you didn’t want to be told?”

The class went silent. Professor Snape bore down on Ronnie and leaned down dangerously close. “Detention, Weasley… and if I hear you or anyone else criticize the way I teach again you will all be very sorry indeed…”

No one spoke for the rest of the class. Professor Snape made a show of going through past assignments and criticizing both students’ work and Professor Lupin’s grading. Everyone was very relieved when the bell rang, but Snape had not had his final say.

“I am assigning all of you an essay, two rolls of parchment minimum, to be handed in to me directly Monday morning, on how to recognize and kill werewolves. Weasley, you will stay behind to arrange your detention.”

Harriet, Hermione, Kieran, and Marcus all waited outside the room for Ronnie, all of them biting back their anger at Professor Snape, not wanting to risk him overhearing and taking more points from Gryffindor and giving out more detentions.

Harriet gripped her bag tight feeling torn. On the one hand, she couldn’t forget the images of Snape’s relief that Colin was alive, his rage at Lockhart over not wanting to help save Ginny, and his tormented cries when Harriet decided to go on alone after a rock fall trapped Professor Snape and Lockhart in the tunnel leading to the Chamber of Secrets. And yet on the other hand, there were times like today, when he was so cruel and nasty. It was as though he were two different people, separated by a very thin veil.

Ronnie emerged in such a towering mood that she didn’t even stop to talk to them as she stomped down the hallway. Everyone sped up to catch her. Shen she calmed down enough to speak she launched straight into a tirade about Professor Snape assigning her to clean the bedpans in the hospital wing without magic for her detention.

“Why couldn’t Black have hidden in Snape’s office,” she growled, “and finished him off for us?”

“It’s gonna be a tough one,” Wood said seriously.

It was breakfast the morning before the match, and Harriet had barely slept. She kept being woken up throughout the night by the raging storm outside. The wind kept hammering the windows and the lightning flashed brightly and the thunder rumbled loudly.

“Oh stop worrying, Oliver, we’ve played in the rain before,” Alicia said with a reassuring tone.

“Yeah rain maybe, but monsoons…” George muttered dismally as he looked up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.

Despite the weather, the whole school turned out for the match as usual. Umbrellas proved useless as the wind blew them inside out and the rain came in almost sideways. As such, the team was already soaked by the time they made it to the changing rooms to put on their Quidditch robes. Harriet had just finished when there was a knock at the door. Fred answered it and was greeted by more of the roaring wind and lashing rain.

“Thanks,” said the all too familiar voice of Kieran. Harriet stepped around the lockers to see Kieran leaning on his walking stick wiping his waterlogged hair from his eyes.

“Hey Kieran, what’s up?” Harriet asked.

Kieran saw her and beamed. “Hermione gave me a great idea at breakfast; let me see your glasses!”

Harriet blinked with confusion but took off her glasses and handed them over. Kieran took them and drew his wand and tapped the glasses. “Impervius!”

He grinned handing them back. “There, they’ll repel water now.”

“Good thinking, O’Brien,” Wood said clapping Kieran hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, thanks, well wasn’t my idea, but glad to help.”

Harriet beamed putting the glasses on. They didn’t feel any different in the shelter of the changing room, but if Kieran was right, it would be a huge advantage.

“Thanks Kieran!” Harriet said hugging him tight around the neck.

He patted her back. “Eh, it’s nothing. Like I said it was Hermione’s idea. Anyway, you’re going to be great, but just be safe in the weather, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said smiling.

Kieran smiled back before turning and pulling the door open, the wind whipping more hard rain into the room as he struggled against it to leave. Harriet turned back around to look at the team and saw Angelina, Alicia and Katie all giving her very knowing looks.

“What?” Harriet asked, feeling her cheeks getting very hot in spite of how cold she felt otherwise.

Angelina smirked. “Oh, nothing.” She said casually as she finished strapping on her shin-pads.

“Alright team, it’s time. Let’s go,” Wood said with an air of finality.

The team grabbed up their brooms and followed him out. The charmed glasses did help a little bit. They seemed to block the rain blowing straight into her face, but didn’t stop the water that dripped down from her soaked hair, though once she got flying that would lessen.

They moved out to the centre of the pitch. From the other side the Hufflepuffs came forward in their own canary-yellow robes. Cedric and Wood stepped up to each other and shook. In spite of herself, Harriet couldn’t help but notice that even windswept and soaked head to toe, Cedric was very, very handsome.

Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and everyone mounted their brooms. She knelt down to the box containing the four Quidditch balls, opened it unleashing the two Bludgers and the Snitch, and blew the whistle. Harriet kicked off, and while it felt good to be flying, it seemed to amplify the effect of the wind and rain ten-fold. However, thanks to Kieran’s charm, Harriet could see. She circled the pitch as the game commenced, dodging Bludgers and players as she went.

Despite being able to see okay, Harriet certainly couldn’t hear anything but the driving rain. As such, she had no idea what the score was. It was as the first bolt of lightning hit that Harriet finally heard the sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle and flew down for the time-out.

“We’re fifty points up,” Wood explained. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Well aside from being near blind and almost getting my face broken by a Bludger,” Fred grumbled.

“I was thinking, let’s try that charm O’Brien used on Potter’s glasses. Did it help?” Wood asked.

“Yeah,” Harriet replied, though it came out as a stammer as Harriet’s teeth were chattering from the cold.

The team all drew their wands and tapped the bridges of their noses and said as one “Impervius!”

“Right, that seems to have done it,” Wood said. “Let’s get flying.”

They kicked off and Madam Hooch blew the whistle once more to resume play. Reassured that the team was so far ahead in the score, Harriet felt her vigour return. She swooped around, scanning the pitch fervently for the tiny Golden Snitch. She ducked Cedric again, followed by another Bludger.

Another fork of lightning shot down into the Forbidden Forest, so close there was almost no delay between the flash and the thunder. This was getting more dangerous by the minute. If she didn’t catch the Snitch soon…

It happened in an instant. Harriet was making her way towards the Gryffindor stands, scanning the sky as thoroughly as she could when another flash of lightning illuminated the stands. There, in the topmost stands behind the bulk of Gryffindor House was a huge, black dog. It was sitting there motionless looking up at her. What’s more it wasn’t alone. A small human figure was sitting next to it, cloaked and hooded. As Harriet watched, the figure raised a hand and stroked the dog’s fur.

The light faded and Harriet lost sight of the dog and figure.

“HARRIET!” she heard Wood cry. “Behind you!”

Harriet spun around and her heart leapt into her throat. Cedric was flying across the pitch as fast as he could go, flat to his broom-handle, a glint of gold darting along only a few yards ahead of him.

Fighting back panic, Harriet threw herself flat to her own broom handle and shot off as well. The wind whipped her hair and whistled in her ears as she flew.

“Come on!” she growled through gritted teeth as her Nimbus Two-Thousand shot off towards Cedric and the Snitch. Harriet’s broom was faster and she was gaining, but Cedric was way ahead. Furthermore, the wind kept buffeting Harriet here and there. Meanwhile, Cedric, being so much heavier, seemed to buck the wind much easier, flying straight and true towards the fluttering golden ball.

Yet, as Harriet bore down on Cedric and the Snitch, something strange happened. The howling wind seemed to stop, even though she could still feel it. She suddenly realized she was completely deaf. She couldn’t hear the rain, or the wind, or even the crowd.

And then, Harriet felt it. The cold that was deeper than anything the storm could have hoped to unleash. The cold that shot straight to her core.  There was something moving below her and Harriet broke her eyes from the Snitch and looked down.

The whole pitch was full of Dementors. Tall, black, hooded, menacing Dementors, their heads tipped back and following her progress across the sky. Harriet’s mouth fell open in horror and as she did, the screaming grew louder and louder in her ears, the only sound she could hear until—

“No! Not Harriet! For mercy’s sakes not Harriet! She’s just a little girl!”

It was a woman pleading, begging, sounding stricken and hopeless.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now!”

The second voice was cold and heartless, yet high and nasally. There was no trace of remorse in it as the voices went on.

“Not Harriet! Take me! Kill me instead, but not Harriet!”

Harriet felt dizzy now. The world went out of focus. The woman she was hearing, she was going to die. The high voiced man was going to murder her.

The high voice laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh, full of purpose and wicked to the core. The same laugh Harriet had heard in her nightmares for years. The nightmare that always ended with the flash of green light. And there it was. The green light grew in her vision, and the woman screamed one last time. Harriet’s hands slipped from the broom.

Chapter Text

“That was a serious bit of flying.”

“Just luck. Wouldn’t have got there in time if I hadn’t been in the area and if Dumbledore hadn’t done… uh, whatever he did.”

Harriet heard, but she did not comprehend the voices speaking around her. Where am I? What’s going on? What happened?

“All I know is… that was the scariest thing I have ever seen…”

The scariest thing… Harriet repeated in her head as the memories started to return. The Dementors had been there; black, hooded, looking up at her from the grounds, and the screaming, the woman pleading. Then there was the other voice, taunting and evil, telling the woman to get out of the way, to stand aside while he murdered her child. Harriet knew that voice, the voice of Lord Voldemort. And now Harriet knew who the screaming woman was. It was her mother.

Harriet’s body felt as if millions of needles were pricking every inch of her skin, as if her whole body had fallen asleep without her comprehending and was now awakening. She was very cold and stiff. Her joints ached as she tried to move. She finally opened her eyes.

“Harriet!” came the relieved voice of Fred Weasley.

Harriet looked around. Her teammates were all around her, along with Ronnie, Hermione, Dora, Scott, Marcus, and even Rachel and Tori. Her teammates were all splattered with mud, while her friends looked as though they had been thrown into a swimming pool with their clothes on.

“What happened?” Harriet croaked as she sat up. She winced as she stretched her stiff joints and Dora and Angelina quickly leaned in to help her sit up the rest of the way.

“You uh… you fell off,” Fred said. He didn’t sound like himself for some reason. He sounded concerned, yet also evasive at the same time.

Harriet rubbed her forehead. It was all coming back to her. She had been flying in the match, chasing down Cedric as he went after the Snitch. Then she felt the cold, and saw the Dementors. Then she heard the voices…

“We thought you’d died or something,” Alicia said. Harriet noted she was shaking, and judging by the look on her face, it wasn’t from the cold.

Hermione gave a stifled sob. Her face and eyes were very red and still full of tears. By contrast, everyone else looked paler than usual.

“But… the match,” Harriet said, trying to change the subject. “What happened in the match?”

By the looks on everyone’s faces, Harriet knew instantly that the worst had happened. They had lost.

“Diggory got the Snitch,” George said. “Caught it pretty much the moment you fell, so he didn’t see it.”

“He actually did try and call it off after he saw what had happened,” Fred added. “Tried to get a rematch, but they won, fair and square. Even Wood admitted it.”

“Uh, where is Wood?” Harriet asked looking around.

“Probably still in the showers,” Fred replied.

“We think he’s trying to drown himself,” George said with a sigh.

Harriet slumped back on the pillow and groaned.

“Oh come on Harriet,” Angelina said gripping Harriet’s shoulder. “Every Seeker’s missed the Snitch at least once.”

“Even your dad missed it a couple times,” Alicia chimed in trying to sound more cheerful.

“And the season’s not over yet!” Fred said, taking Alicia’s cue. “We only lost by a hundred points, right? We just need Hufflepuff to take a serious pounding by Ravenclaw …”

“That’s a tall order, Ravenclaw would have to take Hufflepuff by at least two-hundred points,” George countered.

“They could, I’ve seen Ravenclaw’s practices. They’re new seeker’s not half bad either.”

“Not half bad looking you mean.”

“Shut it, George.”

Harriet kept staring at the ceiling. She had lost her team a Quidditch match for the first time ever. Not just because of the Dementors, there was no way she could have beaten Cedric to the Snitch. He really had won, fair and square.

After ten more minutes, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the Quidditch team it was time to leave, or at the very least time for them all to go take showers.

“We’ll be back later to check on you, Harriet,” Angelina said giving Harriet’s shoulder another squeeze.

“And don’t beat yourself up too much, kiddo,” Fred said in a kind tone. “You’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had.”

Harriet flushed in spite of herself. She bid the team good night and watched them out before turning back to her friends, who all scooted their chairs closer. It was then she noticed someone was missing.

“Wait, where’s Kieran?” she asked looking around, suddenly worried.

“Here I lie,” came Kieran’s voice from across the wing. Harriet leaned up to look past the foot of her bed to see Kieran laid up in another hospital bed.

“What happened?!” Harriet asked sitting up again quickly.

“He tried to act less like someone with a bad knee and more like a track star trying to get onto the pitch when you fell,” Scott said, his voice heavy with reprimand.

Kieran flushed a little but shrugged. “A friend was in trouble, can’t let a little thing like that stop me.”

Scott rolled his eyes but he didn’t look genuinely upset.

“So… what happened after I fell?” Harriet asked.

“Well, it was sort of a blur,” Rachel said.

“It was hard to see what was going on, for one,” Tori added.

“And you fell; and Dumbledore ran out onto the field and waved his wand at you and you slowed down just enough for Fred to catch you before you hit the ground,” Hermione explained. She still sounded as though she was about to cry.

Harriet blinked. “Fred caught me?” she asked, bewildered. “And he didn’t gloat about it?”

“Yeah… I thought that was weird too,” Ronnie said, scratching her cheek.

“Anyway, then Dumbledore turned and pointed his wand at the Dementors. He shot one of those Patronuses, that Flitwick, Spring and Sinistra made when we first went to Hogsmeade, at them. It was huge though,” Tori explained, awestruck.

“I know, I couldn’t see what it was, it was so big and bright. Think it was a bird though,” Rachel cut in.

“Then Kieran made a fool of himself, so Dumbledore put you both on stretchers and floated you up to the castle,” Scott concluded.

“He was so angry,” Hermione said. “I’ve never seen him like that…”

“Well, he did ban the Dementors from the grounds,” Dora said with a shrug. “And they show up and what happens? They nearly kill Harriet!”

There was an awkward pause. Harriet fished around for something to change the subject.

“Oh, did anyone get my Nimbus?” she asked.

The awkward silence deepened. “Well… yes…” Scott said avoiding her eyes.

Harriet felt her sense of dread beginning to grow. “Well…?”

“Well, when you fell, it got blown away in the wind,” Ronnie said nervously.

“And…?” Harriet asked, dreading the answer.

“And it hit… oh Harriet I’m so sorry, it hit the Whomping Willow.”

Harriet felt her insides clench. She didn’t need to hear anymore. Her past experiences with the Whomping Willow told her what had happened. There was no way her broomstick could have survived such an encounter.

“Professor Flitwick brought it back for you though,” Hermione said.

She reached down towards her feet and picked up a bag. She opened it and dumped the contents onto the bed. Harriet felt her throat tighten at the sight. It was a dozen pieces of splintered wood and a mashed pile of twigs. All that was left of her faithful, fallen, broomstick.

Harriet stayed in the hospital wing with Kieran for the rest of the weekend. Even though she was happy to have a friend to talk to, there were moments Harriet felt a little ashamed he was there. At night, for instance, when the memories of what she’d experienced were the worst. She kept playing the sounds of her mother’s screams over and over again in her head.

She couldn’t bring herself to let Madam Pomfrey throw away the remains of her Nimbus Two-Thousand either. She knew the broom was never alive, and so it couldn’t have felt anything like pain at being smashed to pieces or any affection for her like a pet, but she didn’t care. It was her first broomstick, a gift for making it onto the house Quidditch team at only eleven years old, the youngest player in a century. It may have been just a broom, but it had still been one of her best friends, and she would never forget it.

There was one little thing that puzzled and reassured Harriet: the black dog in the stands. It had shocked her at first, but after thinking about it, she was starting to feel glad she’d seen it. She remembered the dog she’d seen the night she was saved from Privet Drive. Professor Howe had called it a Gurt Dog, a magical dog who protected travellers and children. Had the Gurt Dog been watching over Harriet that night, calling in Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins when she was in trouble? And had the dog been watching over her again this afternoon, making sure she was saved from the Dementors and the fall?

She knew it couldn’t be the Grim. The figure next to it could only have been a child, and she doubted very much a child would be sitting so calmly with a death omen. However, Harriet still couldn’t bring herself to tell her friends about the sighting. Ronnie would undoubtedly panic believing it was the Grim, while Hermione would no doubt find the entire idea absurd. And if there was one thing Harriet didn’t want, it was to give those two an excuse to start fighting again.

Harriet did feel better with all the support that came from her friends. Hagrid brought her flowers, while almost everyone in Gryffindor House, even Percy, got her get-well-soon cards. The most reassuring visitor was Wood, who turned up Sunday morning to tell her that he didn’t blame her.

The most awkward visits were from Fred and Cedric. Fred seemed cheerful when he visited, but it was Harriet who felt awkward around him. This was twice in one year he had managed to pull Harriet away from some kind of danger. First was getting her away from the bomb site in Diagon Alley. Now he caught her as she fell fifty feet off a broom.

Cedric’s visit was the most awkward for three reasons. First was Cedric’s overly apologetic nature and constant reassurances that he really did try and call the match off and never would have kept after the Snitch had he known. Second was how, even though Harriet appreciated his apologies, she still felt the competitive edge. As handsome as he was, and good and kind, Harriet was sure of one thing: she wasn’t going to let him beat her again.

The third was the way Kieran had acted the whole time. He lay on his side for the duration of Cedric’s visit. He had a book propped up as if reading, but Harriet noticed he never turned a page and his eyes weren’t moving.

None of the nights spent in the hospital wing gave Harriet a good night’s sleep. She kept having nightmares, even worse than before. Now not only was she dreaming of evil red eyes and high pitched laughter before a green flash, but now she heard the screaming of her mother’s voice to go along with it, and worst of all the scabbed and rotting hands of Dementors reaching out towards her from the dark.

Needless to say, Harriet was quite ready to get back to the distractions of classes by the time Monday came around. It got her mind off of the dark dreams even if, as she predicted, Pansy and Pixie were beside themselves with glee over Harriet’s fall. Malfoy joined in the gloating as well, and had even removed the bandages. However, unlike Pansy and Pixie, Malfoy seemed more inclined to direct his gloating at the entirety of the team, rather than just at Harriet herself.

The taunting continued into that week’s first potions lesson. Ronnie was nearly pushed to the point of throwing a crocodile heart at them. Harriet was surprised when Dora intervened, throwing a porcupine quill into Pansey and Pixie’s cauldron, which exploded and caused their faces to breakout into itchy hives.

True to form, Professor Snape was torn between his fury and unwillingness to damage his house’s chances for the House Cup and settled for giving Dora a week’s worth of detentions instead of taking points.

“Ugh, I don’t know if I can take anymore Snape today,” Ronnie moaned as they made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione peeked inside the room and beamed. “Guess who!”

Professor Lupin had returned. He certainly did look ill. He seemed thinner and drained, but he still smiled at the class as they all took their seats.

Almost the moment he opened his mouth to greet them, he was drowned out by the class’ furious outburst about Professor Snape.

“He was only filling in!”

“I don’t know a thing about werewolves, how am I supposed to write—”

“—two rolls of parchment!”

Professor Lupin frowned. “Didn’t you tell Professor Snape we weren’t ready to cover them yet?”

The class broke out into indignation once more.

“Of course we did!”

“He wouldn’t listen!”

“—two rolls of parchment!—”

Professor Lupin smiled grimly. “Alright, alright, don’t worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape about the essay, you needn’t hand it in.”

“Oh,” Hermione groaned. “I already finished it.”

Professor Lupin chuckled. “Well then, Hermione, if you would like I will take the essay and you can have extra credit.”

This had the effect of cheering Hermione up a great deal, though the effect was not felt by the rest of the class. Despite that, the rest of the class was quite enjoyable. They were starting hinkypunks, which turned out to be small, one legged creatures that looked like solid smoke, and Professor Lupin said were classified as “will-o-wisps.”

“Don’t let the frail look of it fool you, nor its lamp,” Professor Lupin said indicating the hinkypunk’s lantern. “They attempt to lure travellers deeper into their bogs. People get lost and see the little light and think it means safety, but…”

The hinkypunk made an unpleasant squelching noise against the side of the tank and clawed at Parvati who was closest. Parvati leaned back in her chair looking very nervous.

“They are one of the reasons Gurt Dogs were bred in the old days,” Professor Lupin went on. “A big strong dog, scary enough to frighten off hinkypunks, with the senses of a dog to correctly guide travellers through swamps.”

Harriet blinked. This was the second time she had heard Gurt Dogs discussed this year. She raised her hand.

“Yes, Harriet?” Professor Lupin asked.

“Weren’t they also bred to guard children, sir?” she asked.

Professor Lupin’s smile increased. “They were indeed. In darker times when wizarding society did not have quite the control of magical creatures that it does today, Gurt Dogs played a critical role in protecting magical children from rogue monsters. Over time, they became less necessary and many escaped to be wild themselves, though they still carry on their mission, watching travellers and children from afar in case they are needed once more. Anyway, ten points to Gryffindor for a great point.”

Harriet beamed.

Professor Lupin sighed. “This unfortunately has led to much confusion as they are often mistaken for more nefarious beasts and legends, like the Barghest or the Grim.”

Harriet nodded, feeling reassured. She was then visited with a strange thought. What if the Gurt Dog they saw that night hadn’t left when Professor Howe told it that it wasn’t needed anymore? What if the dog had somehow followed them all the way to Hogwarts? Harriet found this thought unlikely, but it was comforting at least.

The bell finally rang and everyone began putting away their books.

“Ah, wait a moment Harriet, could I have a word?” Professor Lupin asked.

Harriet nodded and stepped up to his desk while the class filed out. Harriet’s friends all looked back at her and she waved them on smiling.

“I heard about the match,” Professor Lupin said without preamble as he covered the hinkypunk’s tank.

“Oh, yeah,” Harriet said miserably.

“And your broomstick,” Professor Lupin went on, now organizing the books on his desk for his next lesson. “Any chance of fixing it?”

“No,” Harriet muttered. “Tree smashed it to bits.”

Professor Lupin sighed. “They planted the Whomping Willow the same year I started at Hogwarts. Unfortunately it became a bit of a game amongst students to see how close they could get without being hit. Boys mostly, though I doubt that’s surprising.”

Harriet snorted thinking of Fred and George.

“Well eventually, a boy named Davey Gudgeon ended up in the Hospital Wing and nearly lost an eye. Students were forbidden to go near it after that. No broomstick could have stood up to it.”

Harriet nodded looking at Professor Lupin’s desk though not really seeing it. She was thinking of the Dementors now, and now she remembered Mr Dusk’s words to her in his shop, telling her to ask Professor Lupin about facing a boggart.

“Professor Lupin?”

“Yes, Harriet?”

“I was wondering, sir, about our first lesson, when we were facing the boggart…”

Professor Lupin looked up at her from his chair. “Ah, you finally want to know why I jumped in front of the boggart when it turned to face you?”

Harriet was taken aback. She had expected Professor Lupin to deny he’d done so, or at the very least to remain silent.

“I, well, Mr Dusk said you probably thought my boggart would be Lord Voldemort…”

Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows now. “Indeed I did. I take it I was incorrect?”

Harriet nodded. “I did think of Voldemort at first…” she paused giving Professor Lupin a quizzical look. Although he had not said the name, Professor Lupin had not flinched upon hearing the name like most people did.

“Can… can you say his name too, sir?” she asked curiously.

“Voldemort you mean?” Professor Lupin asked, smiling. “Old habit I’m afraid, one I picked up another lifetime ago.”

Harriet nodded. “Well, anyway, I did think of Voldemort at first, and I even thought of Sirius Black… but then I remembered the… Dementors…”

She hung her head slightly. Professor Lupin grimaced.

“I see, well I hardly blame you there, Harriet. And I take it they caused your fall during the match as well?”

Harriet could only nod. She felt so ashamed of herself. How was it that no one else was as affected by them as she was?

“I understand completely, Harriet… in fact, I think your boggart being a Dementor says a great deal about you, in a very good way.”

Harriet looked up. “Really, sir?”

“Oh yes. It says your greatest fear is, in fact, fear. That is very wise, Harriet.”

Harriet felt her cheeks flush so she looked away. “Doesn’t feel like it… given how much they…”

She clenched her fists in shame. Professor Lupin actually gave her a stern look.

“You are not weak, Harriet,” he said with such sharpness Harriet actually unclenched her hands and felt her eyes widen in surprise.

“The Dementors affect you so strongly because there are horrors in your past that, outside the American students perhaps, no other student in this school has. You were just over a year old when you witnessed the death of your parents. You were too young for the memory to be conscious, but it is still there, locked away. I… imagine you get flashes of those memories when they’re near?” Professor Lupin asked cautiously.

Harriet nodded slowly.

Professor Lupin continued, “And that is how Dementors work. They suck away every happy thought a person has, leaving them with only the worst experiences of their lives. I can’t imagine anyone could experience such a thing and not fall off their broom.”

Harriet felt her cheeks get hot. Once more she felt that sense of connection with Professor Lupin she’d first felt on the train. The same feeling she got around Mr Dusk. She felt a strong compulsion to give Professor Lupin a hug, though not out of any sense of fancying him. It wasn’t really a fatherly feeling either. More like a long-lost uncle or something. Fortunately, Harriet restrained herself, as she didn’t think hugging him would be very appropriate.

“I just… why did they come to the match? I thought Professor Dumbledore banned them from the grounds?”

Professor Lupin's lips tightened. “They’re hungry, precisely because they’ve been banned from the grounds. So far from Azkaban, they’ve lost their usual source of human prey. So everyone gathered into the pitch like that, emotions running high, it must have been irresistible.”

“Azkaban must be awful,” Harriet said. “People almost have a hard time saying the name as they do Voldemort.”

Professor Lupin grimaced and nodded. “Indeed. The prison is set on a tiny island far out at sea, but this is just as much to keep the Dementors away from people as it is the prisoners. I doubt the prison would even need doors if it was set on mainland. Not when the prisoners are all trapped in their own misery. I don’t know of many who last longer than a month without going mad…”

“But, what about Sirius Black? He escaped,” Harriet said nervously.

Professor Lupin nearly dropped the book he was holding. “Y-yes, so he did. He must have found a way to fight off their effects… can’t imagine how.”

“Well, you used a patronus to drive off the dementor on the train,” Harriet said knowledgably, “and Professor Sinistra and Flitwick were using them to clear the path to Hogsmeade, and Professor Dumbledore used one to drive all the Dementors away from the match…”

“Well, yes,” Professor Lupin said. “That is one defence against Dementors.”

“Can you teach it to me?” Harriet asked, feeling eager.

Professor Lupin looked troubled. “Well, I won’t lie to you Harriet it is certainly not an easy charm to cast. Many grown wizards have difficulty with it.”

“But what if the Dementors turn up again? Or I face another boggart that turns into a Dementor?” Harriet asked. She felt her determination swelling up inside her.

Professor Lupin studied her face before sighing. “Well, alright. I’ll see what I can think up, but I will say it’ll have to wait for next term. I’ve chosen a very inconvenient time to fall ill,” he said.

Harriet beamed. “Oh thank you sir!”

Professor Lupin smiled back. “Well run along Harriet, I have to start my next class I’m afraid.”

Harriet continued to smile as she stepped out into the hallway. There was a crowd of Hufflepuffs waiting outside the door.

“Hey Harriet,” Jeremy said as he and Isabella smiled in greeting. He looked healthier than Harriet had seen him in a while, which she thought was good.

However, the looks on all the Hufflepuffs’ faces fell and Harriet turned around to see Professor Snape approaching. He was carrying a goblet that was smoking in a disconcerting way. He glanced around at all the students imperiously, his eyes passing over Harriet as though she were invisible as usual, before he turned into Professor Lupin’s classroom.

“Ugh, so glad I don’t have to take that stuff,” Jeremy muttered.

“Why, what is it?” Hannah Abbott asked.

Jeremy flushed. “Oh, just a potion he has to take for his illness.” He said evasively.

Harriet didn’t get the time to ask what he meant as Professor Lupin beckoned the Hufflepuffs to enter and they all filed into the room past Harriet. Professor Snape exited as the students moved in, looking dark and angry as ever, the empty goblet in his hand. Harriet noted, most disconcerted, that it was still smoking.

As November passed into December, the weather quickly changed from grey and rainy to white and snowy. Two weeks before the end of term, the prefects were all put to work helping put up Christmas decorations around the castle. Professor Flitwick actually released real fairies to flutter about his classroom. Harriet was pleased to discover that fairies, unlike pixies, were playful if benign creatures that fluttered about with tinkling giggles.

The main thing that cheered Harriet up was that all of her friends had signed up to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas Holidays. Even Marcus had signed up, his first time ever staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. He usually went home so his father, who lived alone when Marcus wasn’t home, wouldn’t be lonely over Christmas.

There was only one downside to the whole run-up to the holidays. Just before term ended for the Christmas holidays there was going to be another Hogsmeade weekend. Harriet had almost forgotten about her ban from Hogsmeade in the wake of the Quidditch match.

It wasn’t so much not getting to go to Hogsmeade that was bothering her. It was how much she’d been looking forward to doing some real Christmas shopping for her friends this year. Instead she would have to mail order everything. At least Kieran had agreed to stay behind to keep her company, though his excuse was how much his leg acted up in the cold.

Finally the day arrived. Harriet and Kieran saw their friends off. They had just started up the staircase and turned in the direction of Gryffindor Tower when a “pssst” from a nearby classroom made her stop. She and Kieran doubled back and saw that it was Fred peeking out at them from around the classroom door.

“Hey, Kieran mate, mind if I borrow Harriet for a bit?”

Harriet and Kieran both blinked. Kieran gave Harriet a look she couldn’t quite place but Harriet shrugged. “It’s only Fred,” she said in a low voice. She imagined Fred was giving her a Christmas present or something before he left for the Burrow for the holidays.

Kieran nodded though he didn’t look reassured.

“I’ll catch you up,” Harriet said and followed Fred into the classroom.

Fred checked that Kieran was moving on before turning and grinning back at Harriet. This somehow made Harriet suspicious too.

“What are you up to? And where’s George?” Harriet asked.

Fred looked offended. “Such suspicion! All I wanted was to give you a bit of festive cheer before the holidays. Also, George should be making his second trip through the line to Hogsmeade right now pretending to be me,” Fred said smirking.

“Why?” Harriet asked confused.

“Because I’m getting there by an alternate means, and you’re coming with.”

Harriet blinked. “An alternate means? But I’m not allowed to go to Hogsmeade at all.”

“What the teachers don’t know won’t hurt them. Besides, it’s not your fault Black’s after you, is it? And if you ask me, with Dementors lurking about Hogsmeade waiting to spring at the first sign of Black, and Dumbledore banning them from the Hogwarts grounds, you’re probably safer there than you are here!” Fred reasoned.

Harriet pondered that and thought Fred had a point. Fred smiled. “Now, first part is a present…” he said dramatically. He reached into his cloak and drew out a very old looking piece of parchment and laid it flat on a nearby desk.

Harriet leaned over it and furrowed her brow. It was completely blank.

“A blank piece of parchment… how… thoughtful?”

Fred looked offended. “A blank piece of parchment?! Oh no, oh this is so much more than a piece of parchment. George and I owe everything to this beauty. See, George and I, back in our carefree days as sweet, innocent first-years—”

Harriet snorted.

“Well, okay so more innocent than we are now—”

Harriet snorted again.

“Fine, slightly more innocent than we are now!” he insisted. “George and I got in a bit of a bother with Filch over a dung bomb. So he hauled us into his office, threatening us with the usual things, you know: detention, disembowelment…” he shuddered, “anyway, while we were there I couldn’t help but notice a drawer next to me marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”

“Typical,” Harriet joked and rolled her eyes.

“Well can you blame us? Anyway, George dropped another dung bomb as a distraction and I whipped the drawer open, grabbed the first thing I could, which was this,” Fred said patting the map.

“Fortunately, we don’t think Filch ever worked out how to use it. I mean, he doesn’t have a wand for one. Though he probably suspected what it was.”

“But you do know how to work it?”

“Of course! You wanna know how George and I get all that great stuff for parties? Sweets and drinks and such? Well here it is,” he said beaming down at the parchment fondly.

As Harriet watched, Fred drew his wand, tapped the parchment once and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!”

Instantly, ink lines began to sprawl across the parchment from the point where Fred had tapped the parchment with his wand. The lines criss-crossed, entwined and splayed across almost every inch of the parchment. Finally, the lines began to form words.

Harriet gasped realizing what the lines had created. It was a map of Hogwarts. But more than that, there were things moving around it. She leaned closer and saw that it was tiny dots moving about. What’s more, each dot had a tiny label. There was one marked “Professor Dumbledore” moving back and forth in what Harriet recognized as his office. She saw one marked “Mrs Norris” moving along the second floor corridor. Another marked “Peeves” was quite literally bouncing around the trophy room.

However, there was something else that jumped out at Harriet at once. Branching out in multiple directions from the school were clearly passages she had never entered before. What’s more, many of them seemed to lead right into Hogsmeade.

“Oh yes, you see? Old escape tunnels we figure from the early days of the school. Only one’s still any good though. There’s seven overall, but don’t bother with these four, Filch knows about them,” Fred said pointing them out. “And of the remaining three, we think we’re the only ones who know, but this one here caved in last year, and this other one has the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance.”

Harriet nodded. This left only one passage, which happened to start right outside the room they were currently in.

“And the last one starts right outside this room, the entrance hidden in the hump of that one eyed crone’s statue,” Fred said. He drew his wand once more and tapped the map. “Mischief managed.”

The lines vanished from the map at once.

“Gotta do that after you’re done with it, or anyone can read it,” Fred advised and rolled the map up and handed it over.

Harriet took it, and stuffed it into the inside pocket of her robes.

“Follow me,” Fred said and crept to the door.

Harriet was too surprised to argue as she followed Fred. He opened the door, peered left and right checking that the coast was clear. They snuck across the hall to the statue of the one-eyed crone. He gave Harriet a very confident wink and tapped the witch’s hump with his wand and said “Dissendium.”

The hump slowly began to open, revealing a tunnel down inside. Fred smirked and stepped aside. “Ladies first.”

Harriet flushed but stepped up and looked down into the tunnel. It was fairly narrow, but she should fit inside easily enough. Harriet couldn’t help but remember the tunnel that led to the Chamber of Secrets. However, by the sound of it, Fred and George used this tunnel quite regularly and the map as well. As Harriet looked at the tunnel, the one thing she was thankful for was that, unlike her trip into the Chamber, this time she was wearing jeans. Harriet climbed up, swung her legs inside, and slid down.

The tunnel slid down quite a ways before stopping, but fortunately nowhere near as far as the tunnel into the Chamber had gone. She made a note that it was probably going to be difficult to get back up. Fortunately, this far down into the ground it was quite warm compared to how it must have felt outside. She stepped out of the way as Fred slid to the bottom and bounced to his feet with practiced grace and illuminated his wand.

“Now, it’s a bit of a walk, follow me,” he said with a roguish wink as he started down the tunnel.

Harriet swallowed and followed. The whole time she felt as though she was forgetting something as they made their way. The floor was uneven and the tunnel winding as they moved along. It reminded Harriet a little of the prairie dog tunnels she had seen on nature programs in primary school. After what felt like an hour, though Fred pointed out it was only twenty minutes, they came to a long staircase.

“Bit of a climb now,” Fred said as he started up them.

He wasn’t kidding. Harriet lost count after two-hundred steps. Finally, Fred stopped and shushed Harriet. He extinguished his wand and Harriet followed suit. There was a crack of light and Harriet could just make out Fred’s face as he peered out through what could only be a trap-door. He gave her another wink and pushed it open all the way. He climbed out and held his hand out to Harriet, pulling her up.

They had come out into a cellar, full of boxes and barrels and crates. Fred closed the trap door and Harriet noted that if she hadn’t already known the trap-door was there, she would have never spotted it otherwise. Fred put a finger to his lips and they made their way towards a wooden staircase. There was the sound of many voices from above.

“The Honeydukes cellar,” Fred hissed and gestured around. Fred was just about to put his foot on the bottom step when a door opened very close by. Fred grabbed Harriet’s arm and tugged her away from the stairs, hiding behind a large stack of crates.

“And another box of Jelly Slugs, we’re near cleaned out,” called a woman’s voice.

“We’ll get the Slugs!” said a young girl’s voice.

Harriet grimaced but Fred simply winked. There were footsteps coming down the stairs and Harriet heard a large set she was sure belonged to Mr Flume move over into the opposite corner while a pattering pair of smaller feet moved in their direction. Fred reached into his pocket and drew out a pair of wands. Harriet gave him a quizzical look but he simply smirked and turned to look up at the frowning faces of the two little Ginsberg twins Harriet had met her last trip into Hogsmeade. Harriet barely stifled a groan, thinking they were caught but to her surprise the girls’ faces split into wide grins as they accepted the wands from Fred.

The girls glanced over at the man who was still sorting through boxes and waved Harriet and Fred on. They followed the girls to the stairs. Fred paused and ruffled their hair in thanks before sneaking up the stairs slowly. Harriet waved her thanks to the girls. She noticed, before climbing out of sight, that both girls were wearing scarves she had seen Basheera wear previously. It seemed, that despite the break in of Sirius Black, Basheera had followed through on her promise.

They came out directly behind the Honeydukes counter. Fred quickly ducked underneath the access flap onto the shop’s floor. Harriet followed, shaking her head.

“You are unbelievable,” she said laughing.

Fred looked as though he’d just won the Quidditch Cup. “Well what can I say? Without the Marauders it may have taken George and I years to find that, so some credit where credit’s due,” Fred said, patting the place in Harriet’s robes where she’d stuck the map.

“What were those wands? They weren’t real were they?” she asked.

Fred grinned. “Well they are wands, and they are magic, but they can’t cast spells. They’re trick wands, the kids love ‘em. Those two turn into rubber chickens when you wave them.”

“Where’d you get them?” Harriet asked.

Fred simply grinned at her enigmatically. “Never you mind, nosey,” he said. “In the meantime, you have a group right over there who look… well a little surprised,” Fred admitted rubbing a hand through his hair.

Harriet turned to see Hermione, Ronnie, Scott, Marcus, and Dora all staring at her as though she were a ghost.

“Ummm… hi…” Harriet said sheepishly, looking around feeling a bit more awkward, thinking her friends’ gawking was going to call even more attention to her.

“Did someone give you permission?” Hermione asked, looking dumbstruck.

“Ummm… not… exactly?” Harriet said. She looked around again and noted that Fred had vanished. “Typical,” she muttered.

“Then… how did you get here…?” Scott asked.

“Umm… here,” Harriet said and led them all to a more secluded corner where she told them about the Marauder’s Map.

“I knew they couldn’t have figured out how to do all that themselves,” Ronnie said bitterly.

“Harriet, you can’t keep this,” Hermione said looking scandalized. “You have to turn this into Professor McGonagall!”

“Why?” Dora asked. “I think it’s brilliant.”

“I can’t turn it in,” Harriet said. “I mean, if I turn it in, I’ll have to say where I got it. You really think Professor McGonagall would just accept it without wanting to know where it came from? And Filch’ll probably know right away it was Fred and George. And if that’s so, Fred and George have been using it for five years now.”

“But Black could be using one of those passages!” Hermione declared.

“Well, I doubt it. Four of them Filch knows about, so they’ll be guarded. Another caved in so you can’t get through it. Another has the Whomping Willow planted over one end so you can’t get in or out of it. And the other’s in the basement of Honeydukes so he’d have to break in, and then it’s really hard to see so he’d have to already know it was there…”

Harriet caught herself and grimaced. What if he did know it was there?

“Well, even if he did know…” Ronnie said and pointed to the nearby window. There was a notice pasted up.

Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.

“Black would have to get through all these people in broad daylight to get into the basement before the Dementors started patrolling around, wouldn’t he?” Ronnie said. Harriet smiled, a little impressed that Ronnie was the one to point that out.

“But if it was marked ‘highly dangerous’…” Hermione insisted.

“Okay seriously, Filch considers our mere existence ‘highly dangerous,’ are you really going to take that seriously?” Dora muttered.

“What do you think, Scott?” Hermione asked, clearly looking for an ally.

Scott didn’t respond right away. However, he was giving Harriet a very disapproving look.

“So, by you being here, and Kieran not, I take it you ditched him?” Scott said. Scott hadn’t really raised his voice, but Harriet felt as though he’d slapped her.

“I… well… Fred called me into the room and I thought it’d just be a minute but he showed me the map and we were just kinda… off…” Harriet said lamely. She felt terrible now. She had half a mind to head right back into the basement and sneak back into the castle.

“Yeah, it’s a little obvious neither you nor Fred thought this out,” Marcus said sounding disapproving as well. “It’s mid-December and you didn’t bring a coat…”

Harriet now felt even more ashamed of herself than she already was.

“Well, you can do your Christmas shopping now you’re here at least,” Dora said smiling, trying to change the subject.

“You could just do mail order, like we have done,” Marcus said as Dora began to drag Harriet off.

Ronnie grinned and followed. Somehow Harriet could feel their judgemental eyes on her back as Dora first led them to Dusk Til Dawn’s. Out in the cold, Harriet immediately began to regret her own rashness even more. It was very cold and the snow and wind were blowing hard.

Harriet gave Dora some money and Dora went inside while her friends huddled around her both to block the wind and to block Harriet from sight while Dora bought her a coat. Harriet didn’t dare go inside. Mr Dusk knew Harriet too well already and they couldn’t risk that he didn’t know she had been banned given his familiarity with Hogwarts staff. Harriet put on the coat as quick as she could when Dora came back out. Harriet had to admire Dora’s taste. It was a thick, black wool coat with buttons in the form of golden Snitches that managed to block the wind quite nicely.

It now occurred to Harriet that Dora’s plan of having Harriet do Christmas shopping was proving equally foolish. How was she going to shop for her friends when they were all there with her? So after all that she was going to end up having to mail order everything anyway. Overall, Harriet had to admit that she was not overly impressed with herself.

She was, however, able to shop for Kieran, which did make her feel a little better. Knowing his interest in magical healing, they stopped into Tomes and Scrolls, the Hogsmeade bookshop. There, Harriet bought a copy of Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions and The Healer’s Helpmate, along with a Christmas card.

“H-how about we stop into the Three Broomsticks?” Dora asked, her teeth chattering as they stepped back into the cold. “Warm up a bit?”

“Good idea,” Ronnie agreed. They steered into the pub and quickly made their way to one of the back tables.

“Butterbeers all around then?” Marcus asked, smiling.

This reassured Harriet that he had at least begun to lighten up. Even Hermione and Scott seemed less uptight than they had been as they all took their seats. Harriet took out the card she had bought for Kieran and Hermione gave her some ink and a quill. Finally, she smiled and started to write.


Dear Kieran,
Sorry I was so thought-less, please don’t hate me too much? I got you these for when you’re working at St Mungo’s someday being amazing and saving lives. Or just curing thick skulls.

Merry Christmas,
Harriet


Harriet smiled and put the card back in its envelope and gave Hermione back her quill and ink. She was just in time for Scott and Marcus to return with everyone’s butterbeer mugs. Harriet thanked Marcus as he handed Harriet her mug and she drank deep of the warming draught. The bell to the door chimed again and Harriet set her tankard down and froze.

Four people had just entered the pub, and none of them were people Harriet was happy to see. At the front stood Professors McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Even worse, behind them was Hagrid who was talking to a short, portly man with a lime-green cloak and bowler hat who Harriet recognized all too quickly as Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

At once, Harriet felt Dora and Ronnie both put their hands on Harriet’s shoulders and forced her down under the table. Hermione drew her wand and hissed “Mobiliarbus!” As Harriet watched, the Christmas tree next to their table rose ever so slightly off the ground and floated over to the side just enough to block them from view before setting back down.

Hermione’s actions were none too soon as Harriet watched the four sets of feet all turn and move straight towards them. As if karma was playing its final trick of the day on Harriet, the group picked the table right on the other side of the tree from them and sat down. Another pair of feet appeared; these wearing sparkly turquoise heels.

“A small gillywater?” came the voice of Madam Rosmerta.

“Mine,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Four pints of mulled mead for our dear Hagrid.”

“Ta Rosmerta,” Hagrid chuckled. In spite of herself, Harriet snorted. Of course that drink was for Hagrid.

“A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella?”

“That would be me,” said squeaky-voiced Professor Flitwick.

“And that just leaves the Minister with his customary red currant rum.”

“Thank you very much, Rosmerta my dear,” Fudge said sounding cheerful. “You know, why don’t you pull up a chair and join us, have one yourself?”

“Why thank you, Minister,” Madam Rosmerta said and Harriet saw Fudge’s feet move as he rose and pulled out Madam Rosmerta’s chair for her.

Harriet was still cursing her bad luck. How long were the professors going to be here with the Minister? It was starting to get late, and Harriet still had to get back into Honeydukes to get into the tunnel. She wasn’t the only one feeling anxious. Hermione’s knees were bouncing.

“So, what brings you to our humble little town, Minister?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

Fudge looked as though he was shifting around, probably looking for eavesdroppers. “What else, Rosmerta dear, but Sirius Black. Especially after what happened at Halloween.”

“When Black broke into the castle you mean?”

“Of course, and Black’s not one to give up that easily. He’ll try again soon, mark my words.”

A collective shudder went around the table.

“Do you think it’ll be much longer, Minister?” Rosmerta asked in a pleading voice. “The Dementors have searched my pub twice now and scared all my customers away. It’s hurting the local businesses here Minister.”

“Rosmerta, m’dear, I don’t like them anymore than anyone else does!” Fudge admitted. “They’re a necessary measure though I’m afraid. Just imagine what Black could do if they weren’t around! Though they are still in a fury with Albus, he won’t let them into the grounds.”

“Rightly so,” Professor McGonagall said stiffly. “How could we possibly teach with those terrors floating around?”

“Hear, hear!” Professor Flitwick squeaked. “And don’t forget some of our students have markedly dark pasts, Minister. The Americans for instance, can you imagine the effect the Dementors would have on them if allowed into the grounds?”

“Furthermore, their last unauthorized excursion into the grounds very nearly killed Harriet Potter and last I checked she is one of the people they’re here to protect!” Professor McGonagall added. Despite the awkward circumstance, Professor McGonagall’s indignation on Harriet’s behalf did warm her heart a little.

“A-all the same,” Fudge said, sounding very awkward indeed. “We all know what Black’s capable of. And not just Black, Kinney has continued to elude the aurors as well.”

“You know,” Madam Rosmerta cut-in sounding thoughtful. “I still can’t believe it… even after all these years. I just can’t believe Sirius Black ever went over to that side. I still remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you told me then what he was to become I’da said you had a Hagrid sized mead.”

Professor McGonagall snorted. “He wasn’t that innocent…”

“How do you mean?” Rosmerta asked.

“Well… there were certainly rumours going around the school at the time that Black was well… different… try as we might at Hogwarts we can’t guarantee students don’t get up to… well… unspeakable mischief…”

“Well he was a handsome lad,” Madame Rosmerta admitted. “Rumours always follow boys like that around.”

“These were… different rumours,” Professor Flitwick said. “A bit more nefarious than usual rumours.”

“Ohhhhh,” Rosmerta said as if struck by dawning comprehension. “You mean the rumours he liked to tie girls up?” she asked.

There was an awkward pause before Madam Rosmerta went on. “It’s the nature of the pub, rumours fly in here. You hear them all every Hogsmeade Weekend.”

“Well, yes, Rosmerta,” Professor McGonagall said. “Unnatural behaviour to be sure, unfortunately we never could find any solid evidence that such activities were going on. Only hearsay and rumour, but certainly did establish a prior record in my eyes, I don’t mind telling you,” she finished, sniffing with disapproval.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it that unnatural,” Madam Rosmerta countered. “But I suppose I can see how that could raise some flags…”

Harriet felt her insides clench tightly. Professor McGonagall’s statement hit Harriet like a Bludger to the stomach. All the wind was sucked from her lungs. Unbidden, the enraged, disgusted face of Aunt Marge floated to the front of Harriet’s mind. Her pudgy mouth forming the dreaded word: Freak!

Fudge snorted. “And that’s not even the worst he did.”

“The worst? What could be worse than killing all those people?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

Harriet was barely listening now. She was trembling. She wasn’t like Black, she was nothing like him. Not the man who had turned over to Voldemort’s side after so many years as her father’s best friend, serving the man who killed her parents, then killed thirteen people with one curse. It was just a game she liked to play. She was nothing like him.

“I do… you say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta? I’m sure you recall who his best friend was?”

Madam Rosmerta laughed nostalgically. “Of course I do, never saw them apart, did you? They used to make us laugh so much. Sirius Black and James Potter, the devilish duo.”

“You’d have thought they were brothers,” Professor Flitwick said in a sad tone. “Inseparable…”

“Yes, Black and Potter, and their little gang of course,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Well, at least we’ve managed to get almost half that old crew back, with Daniel’s shop and having Remus back teaching,” Rosmerta interjected.

“Yes, quite the group. I don’t recall a brighter group of students, nor a bigger group of troublemakers,” Professor McGonagall said stiffly.

“Oh I dunno about that,” Hagrid chortled. “Fred and George Weasley sure give them a run fer their money, and don’t think I’ve never seen a student brighter than our own ‘Ermione or Scott.”

Beside her, Harriet saw Hermione’s knees stop bouncing and both her legs and Scott’s went rigid. Harriet could almost feel their blushes through the table.

“Yes, well. There it is. They were all close, but there was no one Potter trusted more than Black. That certainly didn’t change after Hogwarts. After all, he was best man at James and Lily’s wedding, and they even named him godfather to Harriet. Harriet has no idea of that last part, though Professor Howe apparently came quite close to telling her,” Fudge said bitterly.

“Well, knowing early may keep her from doing anything too foolish,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Yes, finding out your godfather and your father’s best friend joined You-Know-Who would be horrible to learn,” Madam Rosmerta said.

“And even that’s not the worst,” Fudge said. He dropped his voice before he continued. “Not many people know, but the Potters knew that You-Know-Who was after them. Fortunately Dumbledore and Howe were working tirelessly against You-Know-Who and had a number of spies. Through one of them, Dumbledore learned of You-Know-Who’s intentions and had James and Lily go into hiding at once. Not that hiding from You-Know-Who was easy. Their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.”

“The Fidelius Charm?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

“A highly complex spell,” Professor Flitwick said. “In which a secret is magically concealed within a single, living soul. The soul is called the Secret Keeper. The secret is impossible to find, unless the Secret Keeper chooses to divulge it. So as long as the Secret Keeper held their tongue, You-Know-Who could search the village the Potters were hiding in for years and never find them. Not even the house.”

“And James picked Black to be their Secret-Keeper?”

“Naturally,” Professor McGonagall sniffed. “Though Dumbledore remained worried. He was sure there was a spy in our ranks. He offered to be Secret-Keeper himself but James refused.”

“And… alas… within a week of the Fidelius Charm being cast, on Halloween of all nights…”

“Black betrayed them,” Madam Rosmerta breathed. It sounded as though she had her hands to her mouth.

Harriet felt another sensation like being hit in the stomach. No one had ever told her that her parents had died on Halloween. That’s what Mr Dusk had meant when he talked about the “occasion” when making sure Harriet was okay during the first Hogsmeade weekend.

Furthermore, another thought occurred to Harriet. The fact that Sirius Black was her godfather must have been what Professor Howe was going to tell her back in Glen Raglan before everyone else interrupted him. Harriet glared at Fudge’s feet. It was another instance where Professor Howe had tried to tell Harriet the truth while it had been Fudge who didn’t want her to know. Who’s the more trustworthy there, Mr Fudge? Harriet thought bitterly.

“Yes,” Fudge said sighing. “He must have been tired of his role as a double-agent and wanted to declare his allegiance openly. What better way than by handing over one’s best friend?”

“Filthy, no-good, turn-coat!” Hagrid roared. The rest of the pub went very quiet.

“Shh!” Professor McGonagall hissed.

“Met ‘im, you know?” Hagrid growled. “Right after Lily an’ James died. Hours before he killed all them poor people… Dumbledore sent me teh fetch Harriet from the ruins. Just got her out, poor little thing, that big slash on her head… but I turn ‘round and Sirius Black turns up on that ol’ flyin’ motorbike of his. Never occurred to me what he was doin’ there at the time, just figgered’ he heard about the attack and showed up to help. All white and shakin’. An’ then I COMFERTED THE MURDERING TRAITOR!”

“Hagrid!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed. “Keep your voice down!”

“How was I ter know he wasn’t upset about Lily an’ James? It was You-Know-Who he was upset about! He even asked me ter give Harriet to him! Knew he was her godfather, but I had me orders from Dumbledore an’ I said no. Harriet was ter live with her aunt and uncle. Eventually he gave in, just said ter take his motorbike to get Harriet there faster. Said he wouldn’t need it anymore… now he loved that motorbike more than life itself, what was he givin’ it ter me for? I say because he knew he’d be too easy ter track on it, and knew ‘e’d ‘ave ter run for it.”

Hagrid shuddered. “But imagine if I’d given in and given ‘Arriet to ‘im, eh? The horrible things ‘e’d have taught ‘er… our sweet little ‘arriet… brought up in the Dark Arts…”

There was a long silence after this. Madam Rosmerta cleared her throat. “But you didn’t, Hagrid, and he didn’t escape. The Ministry caught up with him the very next day.”

“Not… exactly…” Fudge admitted miserably. “It was Peter Pettigrew who tracked him down first.”

“Peter? That fat little boy who was always tagging along after the other four?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

“Hero-worshiped them all,” Professor McGonagall said. “But nowhere near their league in terms of talent. I often had to be rather cross with him which I… I regret… now…”

Professor McGonagall blew her nose.

“Now, now, Minerva… Pettigrew died a hero’s death. The muggle eye-witnesses told us how Pettigrew had cornered Black. They said he was sobbing, crying out ‘Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?’ And went for his wand. Of course he was nowhere near fast enough for Black.”

Fudge shuddered. “I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time… I’ll never forget that day… I never thought anything could surpass it until this summer when Kinney attacked the Prophet. Bodies everywhere, crater in the street so deep it had cracked the sewers, and Black was just standing there, laughing… the remains of Pettigrew before him… just some bloody robes and a few… pieces…”

There was the sound of more noses being blown.

“Well, there it is. Black went straight to Azkaban, and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class. Black’s been in Azkaban ever since, until this summer…”

“Has he really gone mad, Minister?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

“You know… I’m not sure… he must have been before he went to Azkaban, his actions were clearly those of a cruel but cornered and desperate man, but I actually spoke to Black during my last inspection of Azkaban before he escaped. He was… disturbingly normal. If I didn’t know better I’d have said he was simply bored. He actually smiled when I handed him the copy of the Daily Prophet that Professor Howe had given me to give to Black, just after I rebuffed Kinney’s attempt to capture some of the American refugee children.”

“That evil... vile… wanting to hurt those poor kids, haven’t they suffered enough? What harm can they do?” Madam Rosmerta said indignantly.

Fudge sighed. “Who can say? But having both him and Black loose is a crisis I hoped I’d never have to deal with. We’re stretched to the breaking point between the Dementors and the Aurors trying to find them both…”

“You know Cornelius,” Professor McGonagall said, “if you’re dining with Albus and Sherrod this evening we’d better get a move on.”

There was a chorus of farewells as the group rose and left the table. Harriet remained trembling under the table, her mind racing over all she had just overheard.

“Harriet?”

Harriet slowly turned to see the faces of all her friends peering under the table at her. Their faces were all white, their eyes wide and their mouths open. All of them lost for words.

Chapter Text

Harriet returned to Hogwarts in a daze. She was lucky enough to find Honeydukes still very full with students, who were distracted enough by the various candies, for Harriet to slip back into the cellar and the trap-door. Her legs moved on auto-pilot as she headed back down the tunnel.

Her mind was whirling with everything that she had overheard. Sirius Black was her godfather. That explained so much. In Black’s deluded mind, he must take it to mean he was also her guardian. That’s why he was trying to kidnap her, in his mind, he must figure he had the right to.

She felt sickened inside, both with herself and with everything she had overheard. She should have stayed, should have turned Fred down. She should have gone back to the tower with Kieran.

FREAK!

Harriet stumbled on the edge of a rug as the word stabbed her at random once more. She caught herself on the wall but just stayed leaning against it. She couldn’t bring herself to take another step. Had Aunt Marge been right? Was she a freak, just like Black? It had only ever been a fleeting fancy hadn’t it? She’d only ever acted on it once. But look what happened then.

There was a soft tapping noise behind her, though it did not register in Harriet’s mind at first. It wasn’t until the noise stopped that Harriet became aware that there was someone else in the corridor with her. She slowly turned and her heart sank when she saw who it was. It was Kieran, and he looked livid. She had never seen that look on his face before, and it felt like there was a hot knife in her stomach and someone was twisting it.

She felt her knees begin to shake first, then her arms. She felt just as helpless and vulnerable as she had when Aunt Marge was attacking her. Kieran opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. His face softened and his eyebrows lost their tightness.

“Harriet…? What happened?”

Harriet didn’t respond. Her body moved on its own. She sprang towards him and gripped him tight around the chest. Every emotion she’d felt that day came flying out of her as she began sobbing into his shoulder. Kieran seemed taken aback at this and just stood there for at least a minute before he slowly put his arms around her too.

“Harriet…? Come on, tell me, what happened…?” he asked again.

Harriet shook her head. She couldn’t respond yet. She had to let it all out first. She felt as though each tear was carrying some of the dirtiness out of her.

There was the sound of voices approaching from down the corridor. Kieran checked the door to the nearest classroom and found it unlocked. He awkwardly backed inside, Harriet hadn’t yet let go of him, and closed the door.

"There,” Kieran said hugging her again. “What’s wrong?”

Harriet sobbed a few more times before they finally subsided. “I’m a freak,” she said. She didn’t know why that was the first thing to come out of her mouth, but it was.

“W-What?” Kieran spluttered, taken aback.

He sat her down on the carpet in the middle of the room and grunted as he awkwardly lowered himself down too. Harriet sniffed taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes on her coat sleeve.

“Why would you call yourself that?” Kieran asked reaching up to wipe Harriet’s eyes for her.

“You know the night my aunt attacked me and Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins brought me to Scott’s…?” she asked nervously.

“Of course,” Kieran replied.

“I never told you why she… why I had to leave.”

Kieran remained silent. Harriet could feel his eyes on her. She took a deep breath.

“I was… she… she’d been horrible to me all week—well she always is—but finally she started talking about my parents.”

Harriet paused to take a deep breath and turned her gaze to the ceiling, still unable, or unwilling, to look at Kieran. Kieran remained silent. Harriet wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

“And… the last night she was just awful and I just couldn’t take anymore, and I wanted to feel good, so I… earlier in the summer I stole some clothesline from my aunt and uncle’s shed and I…”

Harriet trailed off again. Why was it so hard to tell him? It was only Kieran, no one else was there. Kieran who was always there for her, who’d stopped being angry with her (though she felt she didn’t deserve it) the moment he had seen how upset she was.

This pause, however, spurred Kieran to speech. “Oh god, Harriet, you didn’t?!” he exclaimed, horror in his voice. To her great surprise, Kieran actually clutched her tighter.

“D-didn’t what?” Harriet asked. She knew she hadn’t given Kieran near enough information for him to have deduced what she’d really done.

“Try to… you know?” he flushed looking awkward.

Harriet blinked. “What?”

“Try to… you know… hurt… yourself… with the…?”

Dawning comprehension swept over Harriet. “Oh! No, oh no nothing like that!” she said insistently.

“Oh thank god,” Kieran said flopping back on the floor, breathing heavily in relief.

“No, no of course not,” Harriet said feeling a bit nettled. “How could you think I would do that?”

Kieran flushed sitting up again. “Sorry, just… well you have had a hard go of things, and… I guess I just worry a lot anyway…” he admitted.

Harriet bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well take that one off your list then, okay?”

Kieran nodded. “Okay. Sorry, go on…”

Harriet sighed. There was no going back now. “So, I took it… just… a silly thing… and so after the attack I wanted to feel… good… so I took it out and I sorta… tied myself up… with it…” Harriet said haltingly as she tried to both find the right words and actually say words at all.

Harriet closed her eyes, waiting for Kieran to respond, and yet terrified of what his response would be. It took him a torturously long time to reply.

“Why would that make you feel good?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” Harriet exclaimed. “It just does! It was just this little kid fantasy I got after reading those Nancy Drew books Hermione got me… Hermione said I reminded her of Nancy and in the books Nancy’s always getting in trouble like getting caught while investigating and tied up but this last time was different… it felt different…”

Kieran didn’t say anything or even move the entire time Harriet explained. She wanted to look at him, or stop to give him time to process it, but now that she’d started, it was really much easier to just keep looking at her knees and plough onwards.

“Well, I don’t know if it felt different, it was the only time I ever did it… it just didn’t feel like I expected it to… it felt great… but then I accidently knocked over the lamp next to my bed and it woke up my uncle and Aunt Marge… I got my hands out and the gag off but I didn’t have time to get my legs loose before they came in. Aunt Marge figured out what was going on and she… she…” Harriet swallowed. “She called me a freak… and a whore just like my mother… and she hit me…”

“Oh Harriet,” Kieran finally said and hugged her tight. “You’re not a freak. And your mother was not… one of those,” he said, clearly so offended by the word he wouldn’t use it.

“Yes I am!” Harriet declared, trying and failing to wriggle out of his grasp. “Professor McGonagall just said so!”

“What?!” Kieran spluttered in shock.

She told Kieran about all that had happened after Fred had called her into the classroom. About the Marauder’s Map, the tunnel into the Honeydukes cellar, how upset with her Scott, Hermione and Marcus had been, about how foolish she’d felt, and finally about being trapped in the Three Broomsticks with Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and Cornelius Fudge only feet away from them.

“So there I was… stuck under the table and they started talking about Sirius Black and they said he… he wasn’t just the best-man at my parents’ wedding… he—he was my godfather,” Harriet went on, pausing to take a breath. “And not only that… not only did he betray my parents by becoming a Voldemort supporter… Kieran, he was the one who told Voldemort where they were! How to find them so Voldemort could kill them… so he could kill me!”

Kieran hugged Harriet even tighter. He didn’t speak, just held her tight. Slowly, Harriet brought herself to hug him back.

“But, how does that make you a freak?” Kieran asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Because of something else Professor McGonagall said,” Harriet sniffed. “Apparently there were rumours back then… about how Sirius was like me…”

“Like you?”

“Well more he likes… doing the tying part… but it’s not just that, Riddle knew too…” Harriet admitted. She had never told Kieran about the dreams Riddle had invaded, or perhaps created, Harriet was never sure. “Riddle got in my head, said he knew I liked it… he’d ambush me in dreams… then the last one I was tied to a chair and gagged and blindfolded and he was walking around me, telling me things…”

Harriet trailed off again taking deep breaths. She’d never told anyone about that dream either. Harriet didn’t know why, but she decided not to tell him that when Riddle pulled off the blindfold, she’d wanted it to be Kieran taking it off instead.

Kieran stroked her hair. “You’re still not a freak…” he said soothingly. “You’re your own person and you like that for your own reasons. You’d never murder anyone, or hurt anyone. Well, maybe Pansy and Pixie someday…”

Harriet gave an involuntary snort of laughter. Kieran smiled, reassured. Harriet brushed back her fringe from her eyes. “Promise…?”

Kieran smiled. “Promise,” he said.

“Is it okay if I still think that for a while until it sinks in that I’m not…?”

Kieran chuckled.

“But it’s all… it’s everything… he’s my godfather… my father trusted him more than anything and it’s his fault my parents are dead, why I have this scar, why I had to grow up with my aunt and uncle…”

“I know, Harriet,” Kieran said. “But it has nothing to do with you. Well, with who you are. Having even a vague similarity to him doesn’t make you truly like him in character.”

Harriet nodded. “Thanks… is it okay if it takes me a day or two for that to sink in too…?”

Kieran laughed louder.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“Not a soul?”

“Not a soul.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Scott?”

“Not even Scott.”

“…really?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

Slowly, but deliberately, Sirius Black strode forward down a long corridor. It was black, with pillars in the shape of serpents lining the path. The carpet was the deep red of freshly spilled blood. Black smirked at the sight of it before turning his eyes upon a great throne. It was shrouded in shadow, as was the figure sitting in it. Black reached the foot of the stairs leading to the throne and knelt low.

“I have done it, my Lord. The Potters have made me their secret keeper. I am ready!” Black said; his voice trembling with excitement, his lips curled in a manic, victorious grin.

The figure in the throne rose though remained only a silhouette. Then the eyes became visible, but not by any external light. They glowed on their own; red and wild. And then the figure began to laugh, a high, cold laugh.

Harriet sat bolt upright. Just a nightmare, she thought, panting heavily clutching her heart, just a stupid nightmare. But it wasn’t stupid. It was terrifying.

Harriet spread the curtains of her four-poster wide enough to see the window. It was still dark outside. She looked at her watch. It was only three thirty in the morning. She flopped back on her pillow, staring at the bed’s canopy, listening to Ronnie’s slow, deep breathing.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone else after her talk with Kieran. She couldn’t help the feeling that to talk with any of her friends, who had been there, would put all those memories back in her head. So instead, she had gone to dinner, ate in silence with everyone else, and from there went straight to bed.

Her talk with Kieran had done her a lot of good, but clearly hadn’t healed all the wounds. Harriet wasn’t sure anything ever would. How could anything heal a wound like that? Harriet kept picturing her parents’ faces as she had seen them in the Mirror of Erised two years ago. Only two years ago, Harriet thought trying to decide whether that felt like ages ago, or no time at all.

She rolled over on her side and hugged her pillow tight. It was then a strange resentment began to well up inside her. Why hadn’t anyone ever told her? Not even Hagrid or Professor Dumbledore. Not even Kieran or Scott’s parents had wanted her to know.  Even Doctor Watkins had been against her knowing. Only Professor Howe seemed to think it was better that Harriet knew. Why? What did he know that they didn’t?

Harriet thought of Hagrid again. She wanted to be angry with him, but somehow the thought of that big bushy head and the way his whole face lit up when he smiled wouldn’t let her. Of course Hagrid wouldn’t have told her. Hagrid loved everyone and everything; he probably would have thought Harriet would be too hurt by that information. But why hadn’t Professor Dumbledore?

Harriet shook her head. It was too much to think about right now. She sat up and got a glass of water from her bedside table. It was then something caught her eye. It was the photo-album Hagrid had given her after her encounter with Voldemort and Quirrell: a collection of photographs of her parents. Hagrid had written to her parents’ old friends for them. Harriet wondered how many may have come from Kieran’s parents.

She opened the book and flipped through a few of the pages. Every page was full of her parents laughing and looking happy. Harriet tried to imagine how her mother’s face would have looked, terrified and pleading for Lord Voldemort to spare Harriet’s life. She stopped trying very quickly.

Finally Harriet stopped turning pages and felt her heart leap into her throat. She had just come across the picture of her parents’ wedding day. There they were, laughing and smiling. And there, right next to them, was the man who could only be young Sirius Black. She’d had a picture of Black all along, of a young Sirius Black either before he turned spy, or had already become one, laughing with her parents and looking just as happy as they were.

Had she never been told he was their best man, Harriet would have never recognized the young man in this picture as Black. In her mind Harriet could not make the connection between the man in this photograph, and the man in all the wanted posters. His cheeks were full and his skin was clear with a slight tan. His hair was long and looked silky smooth. His eyes twinkled as though nothing made him happier than standing there next to Harriet’s parents. Harriet was reminded of young Tom Riddle, how handsome he had been despite how evil he already was, as well as how disfigured he was to become. I guess looks aren’t everything, she thought bitterly.

Harriet sighed closing the album and putting it back on her bedside table. She lay down and stared at it for a while when suddenly she sat back up again and grabbed it from the table. She flipped it back open to the photograph and pulled it out. She put it on the table so the third of it containing Sirius Black was hanging over the edge. She pressed down hard on the part with her parents and gripped the part with Black in her other hand. She took a deep breath and prepared to rip.

She stopped. She didn’t know why she stopped, but she did. It wasn’t the picture’s fault that Black was in it. Nor was it her parents’. She slipped the photograph back into the album and rolled back over to try and fall back to sleep.

When Harriet awoke again it was already very bright outside. The only sound she could hear was the ticking of her alarm clock. It was almost eerily quiet. So quiet she almost felt nervous as she finally pulled back the curtains of her bed. There was no one else in the room. Everyone’s beds had been neatly made, with the exception of Ronnie’s, which was still a dishevelled mess of blankets and pillows. This sight put the first smile on Harriet’s face since she’d run into her friends in Honeydukes the day before.

Harriet slid out of bed and got dressed. She made her way down to the common room and paused as the room came into view. The reason for the quiet became apparent at once. The room was full of people but they were all crowded around the floor in front of the fireplace. It was a mix of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin Americans, all gathered around the fireplace watching it intently.

Harriet blinked and made her way over. She pushed through the crowd a bit and saw they were not watching the fireplace at all. Instead, they were watching Ronnie who was locked in an intense wizard’s chess match with Kelly Werner, the Ravenclaw American who had challenged Ronnie to a wizard’s chess match the previous Christmas holiday break. The two girls were locked in concentration, staring at the pieces and obviously planning their next moves.

Harriet didn’t want to interrupt, so she backed out of the group and looked around for her other friends. She spotted Hermione at a table in the corner, stacks of books and parchment covering the entire surface. Harriet made her way over.

“Oh Harriet,” Hermione said looking concerned. “You look awful.”

“Meh,” Harriet mumbled sinking into a chair beside her. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Kieran and Marcus have gone to find Scott; he wasn’t at breakfast. Dora’s giving Emma and Professor Sinistra’s daughter, Nanette, a ‘proper’ tour of the school,” Hermione explained sounding disapproving. Harriet took this to mean Dora was most likely showing them secret passages and the Room of Requirement.

Harriet jumped but smiled as Crookshanks hopped into her lap and she scratched him behind his big scruffy ears as he purred.

“You know, if… if you want to talk about…”

“I don’t… honestly…” Harriet said as she stroked the cat’s fluffy fur. “I talked a lot of it out with Kieran. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, solicitously. “I can only imagine how upset you must have been, that’s why we didn’t try and talk to you about it last night; we thought you probably needed some space…”

“Yeah, thanks. I did,” Harriet said.

Hermione smiled, looking encouraged. “I admire that about you, you know?”

“What?” Harriet asked.

“How strong you are, I can’t imagine how I would have taken learning something like that,” Hermione said. “I mean, you remember how I was first year after just being away from my parents for a not even a week…”

Hermione flushed returning her attention to her Arithmancy book. Harriet smiled uncomfortably as Crookshanks hopped down off her lap and made his way to one of the couches.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Hermione looked at her watch. “Almost time for lunch. Are you hungry?”

Harriet shrugged. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she did feel like taking a walk.

“If we head out now we can see where the boys are and maybe find Dora too by the time lunch starts,” Hermione added.

Harriet nodded and glanced at the fireplace. “Though Ronnie seems a bit involved.”

Hermione actually smiled. “Yeah, the match has been going on about two hours. They’re probably pretty close by now.”

They rose and made their way back over to the fireplace.

“Hey, Ronnie,” Harriet said but Ronnie held up a hand. She held it there a full minute before finally making a move and looking up.

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head down to lunch now,” Harriet said.

“Okay, I’ll meet you down there; don’t think we have too much longer.”

“Nope,” Kelly said with a grin as she took one of Ronnie’s knights. Ronnie scowled. However, the game did not last much longer than a few more seconds as at that moment Crookshanks, probably attracted by the moving pieces, pounced on the board. All of the pieces cried out in terror and fled as the cat batted at them all playfully.

“CROOKSHANKS!” Ronnie cried out in anger. Harriet, however, fell back into a chair laughing.

Ten minutes later, Harriet, Ronnie and Hermione reached Ravenclaw Tower and Hermione knocked on the door to the Ravenclaw common room.

“Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use of it. Who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?”

Hermione grimaced. “A… coffin…” she said in a hollow voice.

“Correct,” the knocker said and the door swung open.

“That was a bit ominous,” Ronnie muttered as they stepped inside. The room was devoid of people.

“Maybe they already went down?” Harriet asked.

“Hello?” Ronnie called.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories and Marcus came down. He was looking both confused and worried.

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked.

“Um, I think so…” Marcus replied.

“What’s up?” Harriet asked.

“Uh, think you gotta see…”

They followed Marcus up the stairs and into the third-year boys’ dormitory. Scott had put a chalkboard in the middle of the room. On it was chalked:


Sirius Black:
What is his game?

When did he turn and why?
Dumbledore’s spy knew You-Know-Who was after Harriet’s parents, but not that Black was also a spy?
Talk to Professor Lupin.
Why did he wait a week to tell You-Know-Who?
Who was Dumbledore’s spy? (know it’s someone at Hogwarts)
Behaviour at Halloween?
If his aim is kidnap, why is he being so bold?
Why was he quiet for so long?
Unrelated note: what is Kinney up to?
Related note: what was the point of blowing up a whole street to kill one person?
Seriously why did he turn?! And if so, WHEN?!
Sent to Azkaban without trial (That dangerous or something to hide?)


Harriet stared at the board. What was Scott playing at? She looked down to see that Scott was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his face in his hands while Kieran looked up at them concerned from where he sat next to Scott. Instantly, Harriet could tell Scott had not slept all night. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“Scott?” Hermione asked, cautiously as she knelt beside him.

Scott didn’t answer right away.

“I can’t figure it out,” he said finally though he didn’t remove his face from his hands. “Why can’t I figure it out? Something about this whole thing is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it! Why after so many years being friends with someone like James Potter would he just turn! Unless he was always a spy in which case why would You-Know-Who have recruited someone so young?! What would have been the point?! It makes no sense! Neither explanation!”

There followed a moment of silence as everyone looked around awkwardly.

“Scott… you need a break,” Hermione said awkwardly. “You’ve been at this way too long. Come on now, let’s get you some lunch and then it’s straight to bed for you.”

“And then he’s supposedly on the run trying to hide yet he calls attention to himself as ridiculously as possible!” Scott exclaimed as if Hermione had not spoken. “‘Right better ditch my motorbike because it’s too easy to track, but oh no, here’s an old friend who’s apparently nowhere near as powerful as I am, better explode the whole street to make sure I get him then stand there laughing!’” he went on, his voice going all deep with a sing-song tone. “It just makes no sense!”

Hermione grimaced. “Come on, Scott, please. We can figure this out later after you’ve had some food and rest.”

He sighed and let his hands fall into his lap. “Yeah… you’re right…”

Hermione and Marcus helped Scott to his feet and he turned around. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

“Sorry,” Scott muttered, more to Harriet than anyone else. “I know it’s not stuff you wanna hear after yesterday I just… I don’t like not knowing… and something’s wrong about this… very wrong… and I’m going to find out what.”

In spite of herself, Harriet nodded. “It’s… okay… just… don’t kill yourself…”

The boys took Scott to the bathroom and got him cleaned up. He did look a bit better and they all made their way down to lunch. Dora and Emma were already there.

“Wow, you look like hell,” Dora said as Scott sat down.

Scott responded with a grumble as he grabbed a sandwich without even looking at what kind it was and eating it rapidly. Dora turned her gaze on Harriet. Her look softened. She opened her mouth as though about to say something but thought better of it. Harriet glanced up at the staff table. There was Professor Lupin, chatting quietly with Professor McGonagall.

Suddenly, something clicked in Harriet’s head that had not clicked before. Professor Lupin had been friends with her father, and so had Mr Dusk. How had she not put it all together before? Why hadn’t Professor Lupin ever said anything? More than that, they had all been the same circle of friends: Lupin, Dusk, Black, Pettigrew, and her father. She remembered Mr Dusk saying how Professor Lupin never went to visit him. Maybe Mr Dusk reminded him of what had happened, and it was too painful to remember?

Harriet then remembered Hagrid and looked for him, but he wasn’t there. “Wonder where Hagrid is?” she asked.

“Dunno,” Ronnie said with a full mouth. She swallowed before continuing. “He wasn’t at breakfast either.”

“Should we go check on him?” Harriet asked.

“I thought Professor Stratton said we’re not allowed out?” Hermione said.

“That was after dinner,” Dora said. “It’s only noon now, plenty of time left.”

They returned to their common rooms to fetch their coats and met back up in the Entrance Hall, with the exception of Scott who had agreed to go back to bed and get sleep. They looked out and saw that there was smoke coming from Hagrid’s chimney. They trudged out into the snow, Marcus in the lead melting the snow in front of them with a flame-charm.

Marcus knocked but there was no answer.

“Hope he didn’t leave the fire unattended,” Kieran said worried, taking in Hagrid’s wooden hut.

“Well I hear something,” Marcus said. “Is that Fang?” he muttered putting his ear to the door.

Ronnie went on tip-toe to peer in the window. “He’s in there; he’s slumped over the table.”

“Hagrid, please let us in,” Harriet called through the door, thumping on it hard.

They heard the tell-tale heavy footsteps of Hagrid coming to the door. The door opened and Harriet knew at once that something was very wrong. Hagrid’s face was red and his eyes were puffy with great tears streaming down into his beard.

“Yeh’ve heard?” Hagrid wailed and leaned down on them all embracing the whole group at once. They all grunted as they were crushed together by Hagrid’s massive, powerful arms, until he finally let go of them all. They guided him back into the cabin where they helped him down into his chair and he slumped over the table once more, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Hagrid, what happened?” Hermione asked patting his massive arm.

Hagrid reached forward and shoved two opened letters across the table towards them. Harriet picked it up. It was marked as being from the school governors. She read it aloud:


Dear Mr Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident. Furthermore, we have accepted Professor Dumbledore’s case in the defence of the inclusion of a student in the teaching of the class and that the student in question played no part in the incident.

However, we do uphold the complaint that hippogriffs were not an appropriate subject for a Care of Magical Creatures lesson of that age level and will ask that they be reserved as a subject matter for OWL study at the earliest.

Yours in Fellowship


There followed the list of the school governors, Dora’s father at the top of the list.

“Isn’t… isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked.

Hagrid sobbed louder still and pointed to the other letter. Harriet picked it up and saw this one came from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Harriet felt a strong sense of foreboding as she read.


Dear Mr Hagrid,
We have received an official complaint concerning an attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class. Given the extent of the reported injuries, we have decided to investigate this case further. Please present yourself and the hippogriff in question to our offices in London on 20 April. In the meantime the hippogriff is to be tethered and isolated at all times.


“That rat,” Marcus growled. “Sure the school governors didn’t give you what you wanted so you went over their heads, didn’t you?”

"Typical,” Dora grumbled. “I wrote to Dad and told him everything that happened. How Malfoy wasn’t listening when you said to never insult hippogriffs and how he then said something really mean to it.”

“I know,” Hagrid sobbed. “Thank’e for that, Dora…”

“Well, okay so they’re having a hearing?” Ronnie said. “And you said Buckbeak’s not bad. If the governors listened to reason I’m sure the committee will.”

“You don’t know them!” Hagrid wailed. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”

At that moment there was a gagging sound in the corner. Everyone turned to see Buckbeak curled up there, apparently choking on a bone of whatever he was eating. He managed to spit the bone out before resuming chomping on the mass of flesh.

“Couldn’ leave him outside in the snow, all alone at Christmas!”

Harriet and her friends all gave each other looks. On the one hand, Buckbeak certainly wasn’t all that horrible by Hagrid’s usual standards. In fact, compared to Fluffy or Aragog, he was downright adorable. However, Harriet had to admit that for all Buckbeak was concerned, laying there munching, it might as well be Easter.

“Couldn’t you have invited Epeius in too, Hagrid?” Marcus asked.

Harriet thought Marcus had a point, though she’d almost forgotten about the talking horse, Epeius, with everything else that had been going on that year.

“Nah,” Hagrid said. “He’s a wild ‘orse, gets stressed when ‘e’s shut inside. An’ e’s survived way harsher winters than ‘is back ‘ome an all. Besides, ‘e’s stayin’ with Lee and the Jackson’s in ‘ogsmeade for the ‘olidays.”

There followed an awkward silence.

“You just need to work hard to come up with a good case, Hagrid,” Hermione said trying to sound encouraging. “If we all work on it I’m sure we can prove Buckbeak’s safe.”

“It won’t make no difference!” Hagrid said. “Them Disposal monsters are all in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket. Got ‘em scared of ‘im just like ‘e had the other gov’nors scared ‘o him last year!”

“Well, at least he doesn’t have the governors in his pocket anymore, right Hagrid?” Dora asked sounding anxious. “Otherwise they might have sacked you too.”

“You’re right, Dora,” Hagrid said. “An’ I thank yeh and yer dad fer that.”

Dora flushed but smiled.

“Can’t anyone help, Hagrid? What about Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked.

Hagrid sniffed. “He’s done more than enough for me already, and he’s got enough on his plate as it is, what with Sirius Black and that Kinney monster runnin’ round, tryin’ ter keep the D’menters outta the castle.”

Harriet grimaced. There was a small part of her that was still resentful of the fact Hagrid had kept the truth of how close Sirius Black had been to her family, but it was nothing at the moment compared to how concerned she was for Hagrid. She had never seen him so miserable and scared before.

“Oh Hagrid, you can’t lose hope,” she said hugging his massive arm. “Hermione’s right, we just need to think up a good strong defence.”

There was a whistling sound and everyone turned around to see that Ronnie had been boiling Hagrid’s large kettle. She hefted it over to the table and fetched some cups for everyone. After a few more minutes of everyone giving him reassurances and a couple cups of tea, Hagrid finally looked calmed down.

“Yer right,” he said “Gotta pull meself together if I want ter win the case. Jus’ not been meself lately, what with Beaky’s case an’ no one likin’ me classes.”

“We do like them!” Hermione said, a little too quickly to be believable.

“Yeah, we love them!” Ronnie said, though Harriet noted she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

“How’re the flubberworms?” Kieran asked.

“Dead… too much lettuce,” Hagrid said miserably.

“Oh how dreadful,” Dora said, trying not to laugh.

Hagrid shuddered. “Though of jus’, letting Beaky go… make ‘im fly away, but ‘ow do yeh explain ter a hippogriff it’s gotter go inta hidin’? An’ I’m scared a breakin’ the law…” Hagrid hung his head. “I don’ t never wanna go back ter Azkaban…”

“Is it really that awful there, Hagrid?” Hermione asked timidly, as though she didn’t actually want to know the answer.

“It’s the worst place in the world,” Hagrid said. “Feel like I’m back there ev’r’time I gotta pass the D’menters at the gate headin’ to er from Hogsmeade.”

Hagrid took a deep breath and went on. “Ya got nothin’ ter do but sit there and rethink all the most ‘orrible things to ‘appen to yeh in yer life. Kep’ thinkin’ about the day meh dad died, the day I got expelled from Hogwarts, the day I let Norbert got, poor little ‘Ermione and the others lyin’ up in the ‘Ospital Wing and knowing ever’one thought I did it…”

“We didn’t think you’d done it!” Harriet said defiantly.

“And neither did Dumbledore,” Marcus chimed in.

Hagrid sniffed. “Thanks you lot, just dunno what I’m gonna do… scared ter go up against the committee, ‘specially with Lucius Malfoy there ta bully them all…”

“How can he get away with that?” Marcus snarled. “Completely undermining our system.”

“He’s a former Death Eater,” Dora growled. “Of course he wants to undermine the system.”

“Yeah, ‘former,’” Ronnie muttered.

“And you got off in the end, and fully restored,” Hermione cut in again trying to lighten the mood. “You got a new wand and everything!”

Hagrid managed a little smile. “Yeah, can never thank you lot enough… though wouldn’t ‘ave ‘appened if the D’menters had their way… wonder if that’s why they affect me more… ‘cause I ‘got away,’” Hagrid said.

“But, you were innocent,” Harriet said aghast.

“Think that matters ter a D’menter? They don’t care; don’t give a damn over who’s guilty er innercent. All ‘at matters ter them is having a few hundred humans stuck there on that island ter leech the happiness out of…”

“How can they keep that place open,” Marcus said sounding even more indignant. “It’s inhuman!”

“Well, let’s try for one thing at a time,” Hermione said. “Our most pressing matter is Buckbeak’s case, and if we want to get as much good material as we can we should start right away.”

And so after another cup of tea each and more assurances of help to Hagrid, they returned to the castle. On the one hand, Harriet’s mind was finally taken off what she’d overheard the night before. On the other, she was worried about Hagrid and what was going to happen to Buckbeak.

On yet another hand, Harriet was reminded of an even more pressing matter the moment they re-entered the school. The first person they saw was Rachel who was walking back up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower alone. Harriet felt her lips tighten at the sight. She remembered Christmas the previous year and vowed one thing: no matter what was going on in her own life, this year Rachel would not go without presents again.