Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Fates watched with bated breath as Lily Potter worked to deliver her child into the world. Had the babe been sired by her husband, the soul would have been born Harry James Potter to become The-Boy-Who-Lived.  However, due to their meddling the child had been sired not by a wizard, but by a god.  Lily Potter nee Evan’s was giving birth to the first born child of Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, half-born child of the King of the Jotunn, Laufey.  

Where one day Harry would have mastered Death and challenged Hela for her title, Harriet would walk a different path.  Harriet Potter, The-Girl-Who-Lived would stand not as the Master of Death but the Master of Fates.  Depending on how life shaped her she could be the making or the breaking of her universe. Thankfully for all the Fates would be watching out for their future Mistress.  They would do all they could to guide Harriet in the hope of creating a future of reason and compassion.

***

At five years old Harriet Potter was struck by her Uncle for the first time.  Without thinking about whether what he was doing was right or wrong Vernon reached for something handy and found a serving spoon on the table. Holding Harriet in place by the wrist he delivered ten consecutive blows to her forearm as she cried out and struggled. When he was done Vernon yelled at her that she was an ungrateful wretch who deserved worse for having gotten Dudley in trouble with her lies.

As you may suspect, Harriet had not lied and in no way deserved the punishment.

At school that day Dudley had been bullying his cousin just as he did at home. Mirroring his mother’s words he teased Harriet for her messy hair and untidy appearance.  Neither of these things were Harriet’s fault of course.  Her Aunt Petunia’s hair was straight and fine.  The woman had no experience in caring for hair like that which grew from the girl’s head nor did she wish to learn. As such Harriet was never taught how to comb and maintain her curly locks in a way that would show them at their best.  Instead after her bath nights it was combed down as straight as possible in the hope it might stay that way.  But by the time morning came, after a night sleeping on it as it dried, the strands would be left in utter disarray which would worsen as the days past.

As for Harriet’s clothes, Petunia and Vernon did relent to spending money on buying Harriet girls underwear and shoes. Everything else she received were second hand. The few precious skirts and properly sized tops she had were passed on to the Dursleys’ when the neighbor’s girl grew out of them but as these pieces were limited they quickly wore out. The rest of what Harriet had were Dudley’s castoffs and her cousin was not one for taking care of anything he owned. By the time his clothes made it to Harriet they were often stained and patched or littered with little holes.

Being made fun of for her appearance hurt Harriet greatly as she was surrounded by a world that told her what little girls should be and she knew she was not living up to that. She dreamed of her aunt doing with her the things other mothers did with their little girls. Harriet dreamed her own mother was still alive to put her in dresses and put bows in her hair. But it wasn’t to be. Instead she was left with her hair in a mess and one of Dudley’s old t-shirts tucked into a threadbare skirt.

As her cousin and his friends mocked her Harriet stubbornly tried not to react but the tears still fell.

Dudley enjoyed seeing her cry. Feeling victorious egged him on further.

Reaching out he grabbed hold of a lock of Harriet’s hair and gave it a sharp yank. With a harsh cry she reached up trying to protect herself but had no luck against Dudley’s strength.  Thrilled with himself Dudley gave a second harder yank that tore the hair from Harriet’s head.  As the strands came away threads of invisible magic left with them, traveling out to wrap around Dudley’s wrist before sinking away to where the Fates could quickly gather them for use. Sadly they could only use them in altering Dudley’s future but they worked within that limitation to their best advantage.

Across the playground Mrs Roman, the children’s teacher hadn’t noticed Dudley and his friends herding Harriet off and out of sight. She was distracted with matters outside of her job and so lost in her worries she didn’t even notice one of the children’s jackets laying abandoned in her path. Stepping down on the smooth fabric of the windbreaker she slid nearly falling down flat on her face.  Scowling Mrs Roman picked up the hazardous garment. Examining the tag she found the name Dudley Dursley written out in clear neat print. Normally she would have kept the jacket and returned it to the student when play time was over but on this day she was too frustrated for that.

Striding off Mrs Roman went in search of Dudley.  When she found him she wasn’t at all pleased to see the large boy picking on his cousin.  The Dursleys had warned her that Harriet was trouble but if this was how Dudley regularly treated her Mrs. Roman could see why the girl might act out.  As a woman who had been bullied heavily by her older sister Mrs. Roman saw herself in little Harriet with tears running down her face as she struggled against her sneering cousin who shoved her around while the other boys stood around egging him on.

Stalking forward Mrs Roman demanded, “What is going on here!” 

As Dudley knew she was coming he quickly dropped something from his hand. What exactly it was Mrs Roman couldn’t make out at first but as she moved closer she could see that it was hair laying on the pavement.  Long, dark, and tangled strands that certainly didn’t come from Dudley’s head.  Fuming Mrs Roman unthinking about propriety reached out to search Harriet’s head and subsequently found a bald spot near the front. The discovery made her even more cross with the boys.

For the first time in Harriet’s memory people were punished for hurting her and Mrs Roman was not lenient about it. Not wanting this to develop into a habit she punished the boys to the full extent she was able and contacted their guardians to let them know what happened.

While all the parents were unhappy to learn that their children were in trouble for bullying, it was only the Dursleys who thought to blame the victim.  They accused Harriet of having lied to get Dudley in trouble. A single thought on the matter should have told them that Dudley had done the things he was accused of. If they wanted to protect him from further punishment they should have been discouraging him from harassing his cousin.  Instead by punishing Harriet that night Dudley only learned to continue this behavior. This lesson would cause him to continue to get into trouble for years to come, leaving him with a bad reputation and very much friendless as parents didn’t want their children hanging out with “that Dursley boy.”

As Vernon brought down the spoon on Harriet’s arm tendrils of magic traveled out from her just as they had with Dudley earlier that day. These unconscious releases of magic had been happening since Voldemort attacked her with the Killing Curse with the Dark Lord being her first victim. On this night her strands of magic traveled over the spoon to Vernon’s hand where they sunk down through his skin into the foundation of his being to where the Fates hands eagerly awaited them. They did not care for the way Harriet was treated in her relatives care and so took great satisfaction in punishing them.

The next day when Vernon came into work his boss, Mr Grunning watched him. There was a job promotion available. It should have be an easy decision who to promote. Vernon was the most senior candidate. At their company this usually meant everything. The other candidate was young blood full of ideas who didn’t have loyalty to the company. There was a good chance they might loose him if he didn’t receive this promotion. Being a man and a company of old values Mr Grunning had left wok the day before ready to give the promotion to Vernon and say good riddance if the boy decided to leave… but that night he found himself unable to sleep as he spent hours second guessing his decision. Vernon was a loyal employee but did that mean he would be what would serve the company best?

It was a few days later that Vernon learned he had been looked over for the promotion. He was furious. This was only a small example of the bad luck that kept landing on the Dursleys over the last few years. While none of these events could logically be blamed on Harriet the Dursleys always came to lay the fault at her feet.  In a way they were right.  It was because Harriet was with them that many of these things happened but the blame truly belonged with the Dursleys.  Had they treated her well they could have enjoyed a far better fate.  Like Mrs. Roman.

The day after the hair pulling incident Mrs. Roman noticed that the way Harriet’s hair was laying displayed her new bald spot rather than hiding it.  The state of Harriet’s hair always bothered her teacher but she’d dismissed it.  Curly hair was required particular car and children were usually interested in things other than keeping up appearances. However seeing the bald spot made Mrs Roman decided to see about helping Harriet with her hair. With the girls permission she gently disentangled and combed out her curls while the other children played. As they sat they talked about Harriet’s hair and what she should do for it.

For the first time Harriet could remember someone was taking the time to teach her how to care for herself.  Brushing her teeth, learning to wipe, and washing herself had all been things she learned by overhearing Petunia’s lessons to Dudley or from kids programs and her time at school.  It was also the first time Harriet could remember someone besides Mrs Figg touching her with kindness.  The cat lady who sometimes watched her would occasionally pat her on the head but that was nothing compared to the continued gentle touch and instruction of Mrs. Roman.

While the teacher worked on her head strands of magic left Harriet continuously to tangle around Mrs Roman’s fingers and sink into her part in the tapestry of the universe. Dozens of these strands were given that day which the Fates dutifully collected to use in reweaving Mrs Roman’s fate.

That night it was revealed to Mrs Roman that her husband had been cheating on her for years.  She cried and yelled but when the arguing was all over she found it in herself to tell him that she could forgive him, with time. She was willing to work on their marriage. It was as she was talking about counseling that the Fate’s work came into play. Even while he nodded in agreement Mr Roman realized that while it may have been easier to stay married, he didn’t wish to. The next morning he brought down a set of packed luggage to the breakfast table. With a glass of orange juice in her hand Mrs Roman was informed her husband of eighteen years was leaving her. When he left that morning the path to a happier life opened ahead of her.

That summer she met the man that would become her second husband. A man who would spend his life loving her completely and unconditionally. He was her partner in every way. He never thought to stray or take her for granted. Had she still been married the two would never have met, but they had. They met, they married, and ten months later they became parents. Her miracle baby. The one thing she always wanted. Something doctors told her she would likely never have.

Using the last of the threads Harriet had gifted her teacher the Fates saw to it that both mother and daughter made it safety through delivery.

For years the Fates were able to use the threads Harriet unknowing gave until at eleven years old their little Mistress learned she was a witch.  Magic was largely a matter of belief.  This is why confidence was so important to spell casting and why so many of the greats were arrogant.  Once Harriet believed a wand was essential for magic her instinctual use of her gifts ceased.  Without the strands she bestowed on others The Fates had a much harder time altering the weave of the universe.  Fortunately there were still Prophets that could help to impose the will of the Fates onto the universe.

Contrary to what the mortals of Midgard believed prophecies delivered with their voices through Prophets mouths were not a prediction of the future, but rather a kind of curse. All prophecy was in a way self-fulfilling.  If no one ever believed in a words then it would never come to pass.  But if it the words were known and believed if only slightly a person’s belief would help to direct their life’s course to see the curse fulfilled.  The more feeling behind the belief the greater the change and if that person had magic?  Magic after all was influenced by belief.  If the person believed then their magic would fuel the curse keeping it strong and encouraging others to believe the words as well.  This is why The Fates were so choosy about when prophecies would be delivered. This is why they waited until Sybill Trelawney was in front of Albus Dumbledore before having her deliver Harriet’s prophecy.  It is also why they used all the influence they had to try to put a follower of Voldemort’s within earshot when the words were said so they could deliver it back to the Dark Lord.

Free will existed.  People were free to choose.  The Fates could place every conceivable encouragement to turn left and still a person might choose right.  Prophecy didn’t guarantee a future. People could choose not to believe. People could fight against the will of the Fates, but a betting man knew the odds were against a fighter because the Fates? They had gotten very good at getting their way. So while things became harder for them the Fates were still able to guide Harriet’s path. They worked and maneuvered like never before to ensure the daughter would be in a position of power come the day her father returned and the universe took notice of Earth.

Chapter Text

Everything changed the night Voldemort was reborn.

He’d been so eager to get his hands on Harriet Potter. Delusional with arrogance he believed he knew how the night would go. For surely it could only go exactly as he desired. In all fairness events did proceed as planned right up until Wormtail dropped his Lord’s homunculus body into the potion. In that cauldron Voldemort as he and the world knew him, was irrevocably altered.

He’d thought he understood what made Harriet Potter special. He’d thought it was a sacrifice, a work of magic on her mother’s part and not the girl herself. He should have exercised caution. The prophecy said, “And she will have a power the Dark Lord knows not.” He had been warned, but he did not heed it.

When Voldemort emerged from that cauldron it wasn’t just his physical form that was changed. He had been remade mind, heart, and soul. No longer was he the center of his own existence. No. Harriet had become his sun. Without her he had no orbit, no purpose. Without her there was no warmth and no chance of life.

Voldemort emerged from that cauldron a changed man in a form unrecognized by every witch and wizard who looked upon it. He stood towering above others but was by no means a true giant like Hagrid and his kin. Voldemort was statuesque. He was imposing. Tall and lithe with physical and magical power like he could never have achieved as a mere wizard.

The skin that covered his new form was inhuman blue and free of hair. Both his iris and sclera were brilliant red creating the illusion of a small black dot in a red sea. Showing clearly he was a predator his teeth had become slightly pointed. But perhaps Voldemort’s favorite part of his new form was the cold that radiated from his body. A brutal magical cold which intimidated all those around him. A cold he would later learn could create ice stronger than steel. He didn’t realize any of this at first though. No, when he emerged from the cauldron he was too disoriented by all the changes to make sense of anything. He didn’t even startle when he looked down to see the cauldron freezing where his blue hand gripped the rim. He only stared at it confused while Pettigrew trembled and cowered at the sight he made and Harriet stared in horrified fascination.

Voldemort didn’t like that expression on her face. Unable to think clearly as to why he cared, he knew Harriet wanted to be free and so he released her. He sent her running off into the night as the other, a boy, had already taken the portkey when making his escape. Being so unaccustomed to caring for others Voldemort watched her go not understanding the ache in his heart over their parting.

It took weeks after that night for Voldemort to orientate himself to his new existence.
There were days eaten up with self reflection as he worked to come to know himself for who he had become and what he was going to do with this new life. It was during one of these sessions that Voldemort to realized the ritual had gifted him with not one but two new forms. There was the form of a god and the form of a mortal man. Although his new human side looked very different from the one he’d been born with.

No longer did Voldemort look like a mirror image to his father, the first Tom Riddle. Instead he was remade in the image of Harriet. His hair was that of the Potter’s; dark and wild. His eyes were the green of Harriet’s and that of her mother before her. His complexion. His bone structure. His build. All of it left Voldemort looking like he was Harriet’s kin. This suited Voldemort for in his time of reflection he’d realized that what he wanted was to like kin to her. To be her friend, her ally, her support. Whatever Harriet needed him to be Voldemort was determined he would become for her.

Voldemort knew these changes in him, these feelings were the result of the magic of the ritual having bound him to Harriet but he did not care. He knew he would have rejected and hated these feelings previously but he did not care. Thanks to this magic he now prefer to stand at Harriet’s side rather than across from her as an enemy and he was grateful for it. What was before only mattered in so far as making amends to Harriet and seeing she was safe from harm in the future.

By the time Voldemort settled on a course of action towards the future he wanted the Ministry was already in full swing slandering Harriet’s name by proclaiming her and Dumbledore both liars. They insisted he had not returned though they had every reason to know he had if they would just us sense. Voldemort was greatly displeased with what they were doing. He considered revealing himself to them, every inch as blue and cold as Harriet had described, but knew it was not yet the time. For Harriet he would have patience and use his Slytherin cleverness to its full effect.

The first order of business was a prison break. Of course rather than admitting that this could have been the result of his return the ministry chose to blame Sirius Black for the mass escape and the dark mark hanging above the prison. They tried to quiet the tales from the prison guards who reported the raid being conducted by uniformed Death Eaters led by a “blue demon with red eyes.” Despite these reports not making it into the ministry’s official statement nor the papers word still got around to the public. Voldemort made certain of it. Where before the break out most all of magical Britain believed the ministry’s lies the accounts of the guards caused doubt. The numbers grew of those not willing to so easily reject Harriet and Dumbledore’s warnings. They didn’t want to believe You-Know-Who was back but they had to face the possibility.

The Death Eaters Voldemort freed were still loyal to him. The numbers who lived in freedom during his absence would obey if not out of loyalty then for fear or ambition. None knew that his goals and ideals no longer aligned with their own but they could be made use of whether they were informed or not. The only member of his number which he could say he was in line with was one Severus Snape. When his former servant appeared before him Voldemort could feel the binding connecting him back to Harriet. It was little work on his part but much suffering on Severus’ to extract the truth of his vow along with everything else the potion master was hiding. Once all his truths were revealed Snape very much expected to die that day. He was not prepared at all to receive the mission he was given.

“You will swear a new vow today,” Voldemort told him. “One that will ensure you keep my secrets from Dumbledore and his flock but shall never again keep secrets from me. You will be my loyal spy and the girl’s shield.”

“My lord,” Severus asked confused and still shaking with his pains.

“You promised to protect her Severus but you have served her poorly,” he reprimanded digging his fingers into Severus’ neck. The magical cold that now coursed through him poured out of Voldemort and Severus screamed. Voldemort no longer required a wand to cause pain. His touch alone was enough and he reveled in the intimacy of it. Despite his satisfaction he only held the touch for a moment before pulling away. If Severus was to protect Harriet, damaging him with any permanency would be counter productive to their goals.

Walking away Voldemort moved for the throne the Malfoy’s had placed in their ballroom for him. As he was only showing his more intimidating form to his servants the chair had to be custom made to suit his size and hold his weight.

Sitting himself down Voldemort explained to Snape, “The Potter child is to be protected. Not only from life threatening harm but all hurts. Without exposing yourself you are to do all you can to make her life one of ease and comfort. You will still treat her as you must in public to avoid suspicion but in private and with the Order you will soften your manner. Over time you will continue to soften it further until you are treating her with all the kindness and care you wish you could bestow on her mother.”

Snape winced at the mention of Lily Evans, his ‘always’ love. Voldemort scowled. Lily Evan’s had been an impressive witch and a blessing to their world for the gift she gave them in the form of her daughter but Voldemort did not see how Severus could truly love her and yet be so ignorant of Harriet’s superior value. He did not approve of Severus resentment that Harriet had Lily’s love while he did not. It was only right for Lily to have loved and sacrificed herself for Harriet. Snape should understand that. Harriet’s mother certainly would have expected him to.

“We will see to your vow now,” Voldemort told him causing Severus to flinch at the clear displeasure in Voldemort’s tone. He was too beaten down to hide his reaction as he normally would. “And then we will discuss what you are to tell Dumbledore.”

He had Bellatrix perform the binding of the vow as her loyalty was absolute, though she sulked at being dismissed afterwards. Voldemort considered her as she left. True her mind had always been compromised and had only worsened due to exposure to the dementors. However, her magic was strong and her body recovering. She had offered herself to him many times. Were he to accept she could help him to sire children, heirs to a line he could bind in service to Harriet the way others had bound theirs to him.

He set that possibility aside for another day. He didn’t even know if his new body was capable of reproducing. His old body certainly wasn’t. He willingly sacrificed such a possibility in the pursuit of further power but perhaps the blessings of Harriet’s blood restored that along with the other gifts it had granted him.

Severus’ cover story was given to him. Dumbledore would be told that Voldemort claimed to have injured him so that the order would believe he was displeased with his spy. That supposed displeasure would stand as the reason why Severus was not trusted enough to have access to the information Dumbledore wanted. He would report however that Voldemort had greatly enjoyed the torture and appeared more consumed with madness and sadism then ever before. He would also report that the Dark Lord was suffering problems with his new ‘monstrous’ form.

Let the old fool and his order think Voldemort was weak. Let them think both his mind and his body were betraying him. Their own prejudiced beliefs about the ‘dark arts’ would feed into them accepting these lies. They would expect him to be punished for defying death. They would never expect that in taking Harriet’s unwillingly given blood he could have been so blessed.

Once everything with Severus was taken care of he dismissed the man to return to Hogwarts where he would give his report and care for his wounds. Much to his surprise Voldemort even revealed to Severus how best to see the damage done repaired. He should not have been surprised. Once Severus left his priority would be Harriet and injured he may fail to be what she needed.

With his spy gone Voldemort called in the rest of his former ‘inner circle’. Bellatrix eagerly pushed to the front of the crowd while others were less eager to enter the freezing chill and oppressive feeling of his presence.

“My Lord,” Lucius said already bowing as he came forward. He was holding himself extremely tense as well he should given that he had earned his Lord’s extreme displeasure.

The Malfoys were in possession of a slew of dark artifacts and could easily access more. And yet, when Lucius was looking to plant such an item on the Weasley girl he choice to use Voldemort’s Dairy which had been entrusted to the Malfoy line for protecting generations back. That alone would have earned Lucius his fury. To fan the flames of his ire his hocrux had been destroyed and with it a basilisk hatched by Salazar Slytherin. Two irreplaceable pieces of his legacy, a piece of his actual soul lost in the name of a foolish plan to discredit Arthur Weasley.

Those losses on their own would be reason enough to take Lucius’ first born in recompense. That by all accounts Harriet had been bitten and nearly died from the basilisk’s venom meant that Lucius could never earn mercy. His life was forfeit. He would have a most painful death and soon. Malfoy just didn’t know it yet.

“My Lord, word has come from my contacts in the west,” Lucius said presenting an envelope atop his hands in front of him. The strain of holding it despite the light weight was enough to make his hands shake. While Lucius’ death was still some time off he would not be allowed to live out the remainder of his days free of punishment. Voldemort had enjoyed crushing the man’s hands in his freezing grip. What he found extremely interesting was that after the damage was done to Lucius’ hands they were unable to heal completely. Much like the damage done by a powerful curse no mix of potions or spells could completely undo the damage caused by his cold. The trails he carried out on others proved just the same.

“Bellatrix,” Voldemort ordered.

She gave him a deep bow then turned to sneer down on her brother in law. Drawing her wand she checked the envelope for any malicious spells displaying to all her distrust in Lucius after his failure of their lord. Bellatrix had been making these clear showings that she did not place family above Voldemort since learning of his displeasure with her sister’s husband.

After the envelope was checked Bellatrix relieved Lucius of his burden.

On turning to face her Lord her sneer instantly vanished to be replaced by a look of reverence as she crouched forward to present him the parcel. She shivered taking pleasure in the coldness of the air around him. He had heard her tell others that it was wonderful to feel their Lord’s might in this way.

Once Voldemort summoned the envelope from her hand Bellatrix quickly bowed down again to scurry back to her place.

With deliberate movements Voldemort cut through the seal and retrieved the contents from inside. He took his time going over them, forcing his followers to wait on him. Most in the room fidgeted uncomfortably not knowing what word had come. Their main concern was whether the contents might upset him. When Voldemort gave a hum of approval there was a metaphorical sigh of relief from the crowd. Lucius actually sagged. Bad form for a pureblood to show their emotions so clearly. His father would be ashamed.

“Have you found everything to your satisfaction my lord,” he asked not only earning a glare from Voldemort but from his sister in-law as well.

“We shall see,” was Voldemort’s response.

“The rest of you,” he said turning away from the Malfoy patriarch dismissively. He took in the worried faces of those in the room. “Report.”

One by one they moved forward giving him word of their failures and progress and the news they had gathered from the world being questioned until Voldemort was satisfied. When the last man had spoken only then were all dismissed. Once left in solitude Voldemort chose to retire for the evening bringing the envelope with him. With what it contained and Severus’ loyalty secured he would be able to put the next part of his plan into action.

Once he was in the suite he had claimed for himself Voldemort went about again examining what had been sent to him. It was good work. It should stand up to the level of scrutiny he was expecting and beyond. Lucius had likely hoped this would earn him some relief from Voldemort’s anger but such a hope was foolish. The quality was a mark of the skill of Lucius’ contact, not of the Malfoy Lord. Even if it had been Lucius’ work it would do nothing to earn him forgiveness. Voldemort could never forgive anyone or anything that hurt Harriet. Not even himself. He would forever be working to atone for his past crimes.

Contrary to what most in England thought Harriet was not the last of the Potters. While the main line had withered an offshoot thrived since transplanting themselves to the Americas centuries back. Across the ocean Potters prospered with hundreds of members and thousands of connections to others through marriage. From his research Voldemort learned that many of the family heads had reached out to find out about Harriet’s well being after her parents death but all had been reassured and kept away by Dumbledore who no doubt did not want his poster child associating with those who believed so heavily in segregation between magicals and muggles. As majority traditionalist American wizards Harriet’s distant relatives believed that what was magical and muggle should not mix. That segregation and prejudice would work well for Voldemort’s aims.

In front of him was the verification that an identity had been created for one John Potter. By all accounts John was the eighteen year old son of a wizard father and a muggle mother. Official records showed he had been homeschooled thanks to tutors which were hired by his father in an effort to avoid totting a muggle birthed son around in public and shaming the Potter name. John’s supposed father was a real Potter of some importance who had passed away of dragon pox back in April. Part of John’s backstory was an inheritance made available to him only if he were willing to leave the Americas and use the money to build a life elsewhere. With his mother many years gone John eagerly accepted the terms of his father’s will. He took his newly gained fortune and made arrangements to leave the prejudices of his home land behind. Should anyone go looking they would find that he had boarded a cruise ship a month ago and had since been moving from one port to another making his way to France where he intended to start exploring the world by land.

Along with the many papers needed for the identity of ‘John’ the envelope also contained a transcript of the artificial history of the boy as well as a portkey that would take a one person to John’s cabin where they would be able to take over the identity the following evening from the man who was currently serving as a placeholder.

Voldemort smiled widely. Yes, it should all work out nicely.

Lucius believed this had all been orchestrated to allow a servant of Voldemort’s to get close to The-Girl-Who-Lived and if possible infiltrate The Order of the Phoenix. Beyond Lucius, his contact, and Voldemort himself no one knew that John Potter had only come into existence two weeks ago. Voldemort would assure it stayed that way because it was through this identity that he would build a cover which would allow him to be a part of Harriet’s public life. No one would ever learn that ‘John Potter’ was anything less than Voldemort presented him to be. No one but Harriet of course. Harriet would need to know… when the time was right.

If asked about John the Potters would be happy to learn that a half-blooded bastard of their line had left before he made himself known. They would happily deny his existence or any association with him if asked. Should Dumbledore and anyone else think to look into him they would no doubt assume the family’s denial was due to prejudice rather than a genuine lack of knowledge. Most likely anyone looking would be smart enough not to bother taking that path.

If they tried to use blood to prove John’s identity he would pass. Voldemort had already checked using every spell and ritual he knew of. His blood now said he was related to Harriet. His body had been made from hers and as such he was of her blood. Dumbledore might still doubt the validity of a relative reaching out for no other reason than to form a connection but the old fool would never suspect ‘John’ of being Voldemort. Tom had hated the common muggle name given to him at birth. Dumbledore knew this and would never expect he would willingly claim another common muggle name. How could Voldemort bear to be known as a half-blood bastard after working so hard to hide his true heritage? Dumbledore would never believe him capable of it but for Harriet he was capable of anything. All was bearable if it could get him close to her.

The next day Voldemort used his portkey to visit the ship in his human form, the form of John. The man who had previously held his place was gone but had left behind all of John’s things which were just as Voldemort requested. He took some minutes to familiarize himself with his new wardrobe and belongings before venturing out onto the ship. It was a muggle vessel to which Voldemort disapproved but Harriet did not hold his distaste for muggles. He hoped with time this might change but if she didn’t he would need to learn to overcome his feelings. It helped to force himself through it knowing it was important to his cover. If someone looked into John only to find he’d spent the bulk of his travels unseen it would draw suspicion. Besides, John would have spent his life moving in and out of the muggle world despite MACUSA restrictions. As this was an act Voldemort intended to use for a very long time it was best he practice it around muggle eyes before moving under the more scrutinizing gaze of the magical world.

Thankfully the Portkey went both ways switching places with an anchor rather than being tied to a specific location. This allowed Voldemort to spend a few hours every day around the muggles and being seen while still being able to return to Malfoy Manor to oversee his other efforts.

When the ship landed on European shores ‘John’ spent the next three days exploring both muggle and magical France until Voldemort’s patience was at its end. He’d intended to spend some more time in Europe before making contact but he did not wish to wait any longer.

Purchasing some wizarding newspapers from around Europe he settled himself down to read the Daily Prophet. He made a show of coming across the articles discussing one Harriet Potter in case these memories ever needed to be viewed. Luck was with him as a witch at a near by table saw what he was reading and spoke up. It turned out she had been part of the Beauxbatons Academy delegation sent to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. With John’s flirting to encourage her she joined him at his table and told him all about her time abroad, and in the process ‘caught him up’ on the history of Harriet Potter.

When he’d gotten what he needed from her he paid both their tabs and headed for the nearest bookstore. This particular vendor did not carry English published texts but could send him on to another shop that did. There he bought back issues of The Prophet along with books covering recent British Wizarding history. That night he locked down his hotel room before returning to England.

He spent the night occupying himself with torture and interrogation. Voldemort doubted Harriet would approve although Severus had said her views on justice and the greater good were not in line with that of Dumbledore. From what Severus heard and learned Harriet’s views fell in line more with her own unique sense of justice than Dumbledore’s pursuit of second chances and leniency. Because of this Voldemort held himself back to only hurting those deserving of it. All of his victims would surely receive life in Azkaban if the true extent of their crimes were known. He hoped that because of this Harriet would not be too displeased with him should she learn of what he had done.

When dawn came in France he returned there. Showered and dressed in the American style he left his room with a letter in hand for the nearest post shop. Renting an owl for a delivery to England was by no means cheap but surely it wasn’t so absurd that John a young man recently made wealthy and eager to get in touch with a newly discovered relative would be willing to pay. After all, of all the Potters Harriet was someone he could hope would not judge him for his heritage.

Voldemort felt badly for the deception as he wished there was no need to lie to Harriet but for the time being she could not know who he was. He needed to be close to her in order to protect her and to best serve her. To do so their connection had to be through the fiction of John. For the time being. That was what got him through, knowing this would not be forever. If all went according to plan, one day Harriet would know the truth.

Frowning he left the post shop to explore his surroundings. The more experiences he had as John the more he could draw from to tell Harriet without having to lie. He imagined with her sheltered life Harriet would enjoy stories of France and other far off places. While it wasn’t what he most wanted to be doing with his time walking down streets, investigating shops, and visiting monuments wasn’t an arduous way to spend the days. His nights he could fill with the pain of others and getting the answers he needed to make certain his plan succeeded.

As Voldemort expected he received no response from his first letter nor the second he sent. All of Harriet’s mail which was not delivered by her own owl was intercepted and screened by Dumbledore first. With how much hate and questions people had to be sending their way along with all his other duties there was likely a back log piling up for the Headmaster. If given a few more days perhaps the old fool would have responded on Harriet’s behalf, but Voldemort didn’t intend to give him any more time.

For the third morning in a row he strode off to rent an owl for delivery to Britain. Along with his letter was a small vial of blood which the letter claimed was a last ditch effort to be believed as to his identity. He was sending his blood with his consent that it be used to prove he was related to Harriet. Voldemort knew in Harriet’s potions text book was there a simple brew that could be used to prove his claim though from what Severus said it was more likely she would turn to divination. He worried what she might see from his blood but hoped if she went looking she would only see his pure intentions. The blood was only just enough for the simplest of tests and nothing more but it also should serve the purpose of seeing the letter through the blood wards to Harriet rather than being redirected to Dumbledore. If not than Severus would ensure that this letter reached Harriet and not Dumbledore’s hands. This was the part of the plan that had Voldemort most concerned as it was at this point where there were the most chances for things to go wrong.

It was within the day that a snowy white owl showed up at John’s window. Knowing that this was Hedwig and wanting to win favor with Harriet’s familiar Voldemort treated the owl extremely well when she arrived and as she patiently waited while he read and responded to the letter. As she watched him the paranoid part of Voldemort’s nature made him wonder if perhaps the owl was an animagus. Were he Dumbledore he would have considered placing a loyal spy with his charge in such a way. Children could be secretive with the authority figures in their lives but with their pets, most especially familiars? It would be a genius way of keeping track of Harriet though Severus had never heard anything about the owl beyond it’s being bought by Hagrid as an eleventh birthday present.

Resisting the urge to draw his wand Voldemort forced his itchy fingers to continue their writing. He refused to see if his theory had any merit. John would have no reason to suspect or know how to check such a thing. Voldemort had only just started on this ruse and he would not ruin his cover this early on.

He distracted himself by considering how hard it might be to get an animagus loyal to him into Harriet’s life. Surely after the revelation of ‘Scabbers’ true identity precautions had been taken but perhaps not. He would have to see who else in his number was capable of a transformation and if any had the potential to be entrusted with such a task. He doubted it.

Barty he might have trusted but Barty was dead thanks to the Minister’s incompetence. Bellatrix was unflinchingly loyal but not stable enough to be entrusted with guarding Harriet. He could order Severus to start the training necessary. There would be a lovely poetry to it if Harriet’s protector turned out to be a canine, a literal guard dog as it were. Given his personality that seemed unlikely but their were other forms that while less poetic could serve the purpose well.

With his letter completed, signed, and sealed he held it out to Hedwig only to pull it back. “Are you certain you’re recovered enough for the return trip?”

Hedwig puffed up indignantly and held out her leg.

Voldemort raised a brow at that. “If you’re certain. It wouldn’t be a very good start for me with Harriet if her owl died on her way back from seeing me,” he said with a frown.

Hedwig hooted and continued to hold out her leg.

He surrendered the letter to her.

And so the correspondence between himself and Harriet began. They wrote to each other every day. Sometimes they managed multiple letters if the wind and timing was right. Through their letters Voldemort came to know Harriet better than he ever could from the word of others. To spare having to lie to her he worked to avoid sharing stories of John’s fictitious past or explaining how he knew the things he did. He focused on sharing what he knew and what he was doing presently though Harriet didn’t seem to mind. With everyone else in her life having spent the summer invested in keeping her in the dark she was appreciative of the stories and facts he did share.

Harriet was not pleased with her friends and Sirius for not writing to her often and when they did write they shared very little with her. Through Severus Voldemort knew that Dumbledore had given the order for Harriet to be kept in the dark. As John he put the possibility to her and Harriet unhappily admitted it could be true. Between this possibility and learning from Sirius that her mail was indeed screened without her knowledge Harriet was greatly displeased with the Headmaster.

After having things explained to her she sent John a long ranting letter looking to have her feelings validated about why this wasn’t okay. In the course of it she told him about the house elf Dobby who had stolen her letters all through the summer between her first and second year. This was something Voldemort found very interesting indeed. He wondered how the house elf had found her but even more how it had gotten through the wards. While the answers could be of great use to him if someone else learned of them it could be used to hurt Harriet. He would have to investigate. He also wondered whether it suited his cover as John to buy a house elf. It would certainly be useful if Harriet’s cousin had a way of sending help to her without the worry of wards keeping him away.

Ways of getting to Harriet and keeping her safe became an even greater a priority for Voldemort after learning that not only had an attack reached her at her supposed safe haven but an attack by dementors at that. Severus did earn himself leniency for the attack having happened at all as he had been there to save Harriet as he had not trusted the guard Dumbledore stationed for that shift of her watch. When she wrote about it later Harriet was very confused by Snape looking out for her. She said that she almost thought he was another person with how he’d treated her. “It was almost like he didn’t hate me. He didn’t sneer or snap. He was patient and explained things. He gave me chocolate! It was almost like he cared.” When Severus arrived to give his report and take his punishment Voldemort commended him on his treatment of Harriet after the attack. He suggested Severus take advantage of the opportunities this presented to get Harriet’s further trust. Of course this was only after Voldemort had a chance to calm down.

When ‘John’ wrote to Harriet after the attack for once there was no need to lie. He told her he was scared for her and furious that anyone would do this. He swore that if he had his way all dementors and those responsible would never threaten her again but he didn’t know what he could do. This was the truth. Whether as John or a Dark Lord he didn’t know what could be done here. He was not yet in a position to protect Harriet in the way he wished. As for getting rid of the threat he could not do anything until he had a target. None of his people could tell him who had sanctioned it. Until they did, Voldemort was left with nothing he could do. The feeling of impedance he felt was not something Voldemort had known since his Hogwarts years. He hated it.

He closed his letter by asking for her court date. If Harriet was going to have to face a hostile court then he was going to be there. “And before you argue I don’t care about changing my plans. I don’t care if ‘I don’t have to.’ I care about being there to support you. I want to do this for you.”

Along with his letter he sent her a parcel of calming tea and some of the best muggle confections he could find.

Along with many assurances that he didn’t need to come Harriet did send him the date in her reply.

The night before the big day ‘John’ would make his official debut on British soil. He told Harriet his travel plans expecting it would get back to the Order. When the time came to take the ferry that would bring him over the channel he wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see some familiar faces.

Chapter Text

At his side Sirius whined. Absently Remus reached down to comfort his friend. It had not been the best idea for Sirius to come. He was meant to be staying at Grimmauld Place where he would be safe but he’d insisted that he get a look at this ‘John’ who was claiming to be Harriet’s cousin. The safest time for Sirius to get this look was while they were still outside of Magical England so they’d placed him as part of the team on the ferry. The first step to John proving himself was for the boy to actually do as he said he would. If he ended up taking magical transport instead they were going to be their to prove it.

When the boat docked they didn’t have to work hard to figure out who in the crowd was their intended target. It was like looking at a ghost.

… Or not quite a ghost Remus realized as the boy moved closer. From afar it was like seeing James again but up close the differences were more clear. Up close he looked more like the son James and Lily never got the chance to have all grown up. A brother for Harriet.

“Excuse me,” they heard him say as he made his way on board. His accent was clearly American. That didn’t mean he was… but with a face like that it was hard to go on doubting him.

They’d all been suspicions that this was an imposter despite Harriet’s vehement insistence that he was not. When they voiced their concerns Harriet crossed her arms and scowled at them all in a posture so reminiscent of Lily that it hurt the heart. She revealed that John’s first letter had come with blood which she’d used to test his claim.

“I used a potion,” she revealed digging out her potions text as well as the vial the blood had come in which now held her potion. She placed both on the table with an air of victory. Indeed according to the text the potions color very clearly spoke of a familial connection. That was if Harriet had made it correctly. They all knew potions wasn’t her strongest class.

Rather than questioning her brewing skills Remus pointed out to her, “Harriet, have you considered that this blood was taken and does not belong to whomever might be writing you?”

Sirius nodded. “It could be one of Voldemort’s people is using it to trick you. You can’t know that this John is really a John.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid,” she said angry and hurt at their questioning.

Sirius’s face fell but Molly beat him to comforting her. “No one is saying that dear.”

“But you’re acting like it,” Harriet declared her voice coming out as a yell, shocking the room. She had never before yelled at any of the adults present. They had never seen this side of her. She was huffing with emotion, her fists clenched at her side.

“I tested his story. I tested his blood. I checked all the signs with every method available to me. Before I used it for the potion I used his blood as a foci. Everything I tried showed someone who just went through a major change in their life. There was also resentment for his family especially the paternal figures. That all lines up with what he’s said. His blood speaks of a person with drive and loyalty, who is longing for a place where he belongs. I didn’t get any ill intent from it. Nothing malicious or a desire to deceive. There was only hope and a- this… yearning to connect,” she explained her gaze going distant. Her own hope and investment in this relationship was clear.

Remus felt a sadness at her words. To him it sounded as though Harriet had seen what she wanted to see which was of course the trouble with reading signs. It is why divined answers were never taken seriously and were omitted in the Court of Law.

“Harriet,” Sirius tried but she shook her head.

“You don’t believe me,” she said her hurt eyes laser focused on her godfather. “Everyone else never doubted that you were guilty, not even Remus, but I knew better. I believed you were innocent before I even met you because it’s what the signs said… but you still don’t believe me.”

That hit close to home for Remus. It was true that he believed Sirius guilty at least until he’d seen Peter on the map. It was only then that he began to doubt. But Harriet had been questioning the story all along. She probed and asked questions. During their patronus lessons she had even confessed what she believed. “There’s more to the story,” she’d told him quietly. “We just don’t know it yet.”

Turning to look at Sirius, Remus could see that he was distressed by Harriet’s hurt and feelings of betrayal due to their not taking her word on the matter. She didn’t understand that this wasn’t about doubting her. It was about protecting her.

“Our life paths are tangled together,” she told the room defiantly with her head held high. “That only happens with people who are destined to be a part of each other’s lives. You can try to keep us apart but it won’t work. He’s family,” she declared before storming off. Even though she’d gone up two flights of stairs they’d still been able to hear the door to her room slam.

Much to her displeasure over the coming days they screened Harriet’s letters with John. Every time a letter came she would hunt them out as she’d been told to do but rather than giving them the letter to check she would read it aloud to them. Her tone dripped with obvious resentment for having to share these personal letters especially as they had told her she couldn’t alert John that his words were being shared. While she read she would add extra commentary. She spitefully pointed out how much John cared, how he encouraged her, how he respected her opinion, and how he shared information with her. When she was done she would hand over any gifts the boy sent for inspection and than gather it all before stomping off to her room to write her reply.

She’d been indignant when she learned they expected to check her replies as well. Her own words she couldn’t bare to read aloud. She would silently deliver the letters to them to read before going off. She couldn’t even bare to stay while they read them.

“Its like we’re reading her diary,” Sirius admitted, understanding why Harriet was cross. He quickly handed the task of checking her mail over to others who bore less guilt on the matter.

Once a letter had been approved to be sent out they would deliver it to Hedwig who would take it off to John. There hadn’t been anything in any of Harriet’s replies that the order had to protest. The only thing that came up was her sharing the date of her hearing. The group was opposed but Dumbledore overwrote them, allowing it. He felt it would be a good opportunity to check the boy out before Harriet could become any more attach.

Sirius insisted that he be able to look the boy over. Part of it was a matter of protectiveness. Sirius wanted to have an active role in seeing to Harriet’s safety. The other part, the less noble part, came from a desire to find something which would prove the boy was no good. Even if it would break Harriet’s heart Sirius wanted to be able to say that they had hurt her and earned her anger for just reasons. If the boy was trouble then she would have to forgive them for looking out for her. If the boy was who he said he was… then as far as Sirius was concerned she would have the right to resent them forever. He didn’t think he could handle that.

However it was hard to deny the relation to Harriet when looking at the boy with their own two eyes. He looked like a Potter. “But that doesn’t mean he is one,” Remus reminded himself. After all Barty Crouch Junior had been able to disguise himself as Moody for an entire school year with polyjuice. There was also human transfiguration and other means of altering one’s appearance. While it was crude muggles could do things with knives and chisels to get lesser but passing results. Having the look didn’t prove anything but looking at that face made Remus want to believe.

The boy who claimed to be John Potter continued further onto the ship. He was heading out of their sight and into Tonks’ zone. Sirius whined again and tried to make to follow but Remus held him back. He crouched down to offer his distressed friend support by whispering reassuringly in his ear. It definitely hadn’t been a good idea to bring him.

***

The ferry ride went smoothly. Voldemort was not approached or provoked in any way. He kept his cover never showing any sign that he might suspect he was being watched. ‘John’ spent the trip appearing to enjoy the voyage. He passed the time talking with some fellow passengers and when the conversation trailed off he watched the scenery and the people while sucking on some Chill Clusters, a brand of mints which was sold almost exclusively in the hot south of the United States making their way north seasonally for the summers. Not only did possession and a preference for the mints help add nuance and support to his persona as John but Voldemort had found he genuinely enjoy the small white clusters. Along with their natural unsweetened flavor these magical treats would cool the mouth like one was sucking on a chip of ice the sensation and subtle use of magic were both something Voldemort could appreciated.

When they reached British shores he made a show of quiet excitement. As himself Voldemort would not have shown any emotion but John had to appear different from him and any pureblood as to avoid suspicion. Dumbledore and his ilk were the type to romanticize the exuberance of youth, to envy innocence, and many other bits of twaddle. They would view him with suspicion if John was not a young man excited by a place he had never been before. They respected adventurous souls those Gryffindors. So Voldemort let himself show some excitement but he kept it refrained, dignified. As John or not he would not present himself as a fool who lacked control. He was planning on being John for many decades to come. He did not have the patience to keep up such an act for so long.

Once John had ‘taken it all in’ he headed off to meander the city in which they’d docked. He explored on foot and never in such a way as would make him hard to follow though not unnatural in his movement. He stopped at several shops along the way picking up various things for Harriet and some for himself however mostly for Harriet as he’d quickly developed a taste for spoiling her. He did refrain from sending it all to her as soon as it was bought though.

Voldemort had a growing collection of things he set aside to send spaced out over the school year. He remembered the ‘care packages’ his fellow Slytherins received when they had been at school. Harriet was obviously more deserving of such things then they were but had done with very little outside support during her time as a student. That would change. Voldemort intended to send her packages at least twice a week while continuing to send her little treats with each letter. If he got busy he would have the supply he was collecting on his travels to supplement these packages.

He continued shopping until he found a restaurant that met his standards. He settled himself inside at a table for two with a book to keep him company. Shortly after a group of three and then a single entered. The group kept suspiciously quiet and the single man not so subtly watched him via a mirror on the wall. For fun Voldemort allowed himself to notice the gaze on him in the mirror on more than one occasion. After the third time he allowed for a show of discomfort. He changed his order for dessert to be ‘take out’ and left the restaurant with a backwards glance at the man who looking embarrassed did not follow.

A block from the restaurant Voldemort noticed a member of the group following him down the street. As he went members switched out until all those who had been in the restaurant had a turn following him. They were truly terrible at blending in. If they weren’t giving themselves away with their wardrobe or mannerisms then it was in the way they moved about to assure they didn’t loose him. It was insulting that these were the people who thought they could stand against him, Lord Voldemort. However he had to admit that in a muggle setting his own people likely would have stood out as badly. Something he might have to think about for the future.

As he made his way to a less populated area where their was no foot traffic to hide his tails their numbers dropped to only one who hid themselves under an invisibility cloak. John continued to go on until he found an area suitably deserted. He made a show of looking around to check if he was alone before pulling one of Harriet’s previous letters from his pocket. The post script of this particular missive was from none other than the Weasley Twins explaining how to summon the Knight Bus. After glancing over the directions John was seen to stored the letter securely back in his pocket before checked the area for muggles again and drawing his wand to quickly signal for a ride.

The triple-decker wizarding transport appeared on the deserted muggle street promptly to collect him. Having never used the service before Voldemort didn’t have to fake his interest as he inspected the vehicle. He found it to be less repulsive than he had heard though the conductor left something to be desired.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” he requested as he handed over his fare.

As he made his way down the aisle he could see there were three passengers already on board. As he understood it this was an unusual number for the bus unless their was an event or a large group traveling. One of the passengers, unfamiliar in appearance to him was an old man who had fallen asleep and likely missed his stop. The other faces were familiar. Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin were sitting near each other but not looking as though they were an obvious set. Given that Lupin had been on the ferry and made no attempt to disguise his face Voldemort let John look at the man for a moment as though he was trying to remember why he seemed familiar before shaking it off and taking his seat. Once he was settled the bus was off only to stop shortly after. It felt like they had started just to stop. This became the theme of the journey.

Along the way they made three stops to pick up passengers. At stop one Alastor Moody boarded. John gave him the looking over his appearance deserved before politely catching himself and looking back out his window to the street. With the second stop came an old woman with a face Voldemort did not recognize. However the fact that Moody was already on board and the woman tripped twice on her way to her seat made him suspect he was in the presence of the Order’s resident Metamorphosis. He smiled kindly at her as John would any other elder who hadn’t proven worthy of disdain and went back to looking at the scenery. Unfortunately they only went through the jolt of moving to stop for the third time which saw Dedalus Diggle boarding.

‘This really is ridiculous,’ Voldemort thought but he supposed the point may be to see if John showed any sign of stress or recognition but there were none to find.

When Diggle spent a little too long looking his way Voldemort merely smiled and gave a small polite nod which Diggle awkwardly returned. He then turned back to the scenery just as he’d done before until they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. When the stop was announced all the order members could see on his face was mild surprise and curiosity as John disembarked for his destination.

Moody and the likely Metamorphosis followed after him while Dedalus Diggle remained on the bus with Lupin and Weasley.

Once in the leaky cauldron woman moved on through the pub to the alley while Moody settled himself at a corner table where his back was covered and he could watch the room. John spared a moment to get his bearings before settling at the bar to see about getting himself a drink and a room for the night. He was still waiting on his drink when someone came in to the pub from the alley entrance. The face, the age, the posture, their clothes, it all was different from the old woman. All but the shoes. The shoes were the same. That could have been a coincidence but Voldemort very much doubted it given that the woman fumbled with her suitcase as she tried to sit at Moody’s table. It seemed the Metamorphosis was back.

“Thank you,” Voldemort told old Tom as his drink was delivered to him.

“American,” the witch who had taken the stool to his left asked.

Voldemort still wasn’t over how easily people approached him in this form but he smiled and let her question develop into a proper conversation however odd her easy acceptance of him felt. It had been years since he had stepped foot in this place and almost as long since he could go out in the wizarding world as a face in the crowd rather than a man who’s very name inspired too much fear to speak it.

***

“Alastor,” Dumbledore greeted Moody with concern as the old war horse lumbered into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. “Is all well with our young man?”

Molly, being a mother of experience spared a glance for the door before going over to check that no young ears were listening in. It was still extremely early and the children should still be in bed but one never knew with her brood. She carefully pulled the door shut before adding the spells they’d had to start using to deal with the children’s attempts at eavesdropping. They simply didn’t know how to stay out of things for their own good. Too inquisitive her little Gryffindors were.

“Hasn’t done anything suspicious yet,” Moody was explaining to the room while Molly worked. When he made it to the table he lowered himself into the first available chair. “He stayed at the Cauldron all night. Had himself something to drink. Talked with the other patrons. Said nothing obviously code or made any exchanges. Stuck to the topics of conversation you would expect of a kid from out of town. The accent attracted him more than a normal share of attention. A few girls and a boy wanted to join him in his room for the night but he turned them down. Seemed amused by it at first but then annoyed. Could be he just didn’t want company or the attention. Nymphadora thinks it could be he wants someone ‘who is interested him as more than a curiosity.’”

Molly set a fresh cup of tea and a plate of breakfast down in front of Moody for which he gave her a nod of thanks before starting in. He avoided eating while out and having spent the night at the Leaky Cauldron only had to eat what he brought with him.

“He took to his room well before last call. The girl’s owl showed up with a letter for him at quarter past ten.” He gave the group at the table a look.

“Yes, we checked it before it went out,” Remus assured him.

“Could have been using code. Or invisible ink,” Moody pointed out as he did every time the subject of the letters came up.

“We checked. We always checked,” Sirius admitted. As a perpetual prankster who’d grown up in a hostile home Sirius was well aware of the lengths a child could go to under the flag of teenage rebellion. So they checked for everything they could think of even though Sirius hated having to yet again show distrust of his god daughter. It felt even worse to do it the night before when so far this John seemed to be proving himself true.

“Did he take very long to respond to Harriet,” Dumbledore asked.

“No. Probably just long enough to write his reply before sending the owl off. There was a package attached though?”

Remus nodded. “Some of the muggle treats we saw him buy in town. Some from France too. Then there was a souvenir photo of himself in wizarding Caen. The letter said it was so she could recognize him tomorrow. He was wearing the same clothes from the ferry.”

“And they all passed muster?”

Sirius grimaced. Yes they all had, and Harriet hadn’t been any more pleased then she had previously about them checking. The first time they’d had to check a sweet Sirius understood why she was so angry with them but then she told them she didn’t see why this was necessary as she’d been eating things from John all summer. Sirius willingly admitted he became a bit hysterical in his panic at how badly that could have gone. It shouldn’t have been his job to teach Harriet not to take candy from strangers but it seemed at fifteen this wasn’t a lesson she’d learned yet. She seemed to miss the point however as her concern was that Sirius kept insisting John was a stranger.

“He’s family. He’s my family,” she shouted at them not for the first time before taking her treats and stropping off. The candies hadn’t been checked yet however so Sirius followed after her ranting and making demands until she let him check them over. Once he had she slammed the door in his face.

It hadn’t been the finest hour for either of them. That Snivellus was there to witness the bulk of it didn’t help matters. He was in fact a large part of the reason Sirius had been so triggered at the thought of Harriet eating presents from John. Over their Hogwarts education both the Marauders and the greasy git had pranked each other with tainted food a multitude of times and Sirius was sure Severus continued this behavior after. That the twins regularly tainted food made Sirius even more aware of how easily it could be done.

James had teased him that one day if Sirius had a daughter he would end up worrying that she would date someone just like him. Instead he was looking at the world worrying that his god daughter would become the victim of someone as devious but more malicious than him.

Sirius winced just remembering all the slammed doors, petulant brooding silences, and shouting that had happened in the short time Harriet had been with them. It seemed her moody phase of teenagehood had taken hold. He had hoped Harriet would take after her father and wait till sixth year to start all that but they did say girls matured more quickly than boys.

His eyes widened as he realized that there may be other lessons Harriet needed. A talk she perhaps hadn’t received. What the hell would he do if he was supposed to be the one to talk to a teenage girl about… those types of things. That was what mothers were for. His eyes slid to Molly and he grimaced. The prospect of asking her to talk to Harriet for him was almost as daunting as the idea of talking to Harriet himself.

While Sirius was spiraling the rest of the room was discussing how John Potter was currently eating breakfast in muggle London under the watchful eyes of Tonks and Kingsley who could follow him to the ministry for the trail without drawing undo attention to themselves. Realizing Sirius wasn’t contributing Remus looked to check on him. Seeing the distant look in his eye Remus assumed he was worried about the trial. Reaching out he placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder drawing him back out of his thoughts. Sirius gave him a nod and a smile before focusing with determination on the conversation around them.

Chapter Text

Despite her best efforts not to be Harriet was anxious about the trial. Since finding out she was a witch there were a lot of things she’d learned about the magical world. One of the things she’d seen examples of time and again was how very little sense or justice there was to be found from their government. Harriet didn’t trust that the trial was going to go her way. She didn’t trust the system to do its job and she hated that.

They may promise justice but that wasn’t how things worked in magical Britain. Even their punishment of the truly guilty could hardly be condoned as just. Dementors as a prison guards was unethical. She didn’t think she could ever forget how Hagrid looked after his release. At the time she hadn’t understood what he’d been through. You couldn’t understand unless you had experienced a dementor for yourself. After being exposed to them Harriet didn’t want even the likes of Malfoy Senior having to spent days in their ‘care’ let alone the years he should have received as a Death Eater. And that was only the dementors. Given how medieval wizarding society could still be she imagined the prison itself was horrific even discounting its guards.

Worse yet was the fact that they condoned people to a place like that with every intention of releasing them back out into the world. It wasn’t just murders and rapists who were sent to Azkaban. It was thieves and tax evaders and the like too. Surely making your own citizens unstable and traumatized before putting them back among the general population was the opposite of what a justice system should be aiming for. Wasn’t the point security? Harriet knew Vernon would argue the point was punishment. That was what she’d been told all her childhood and it never sat right with her.

Tradition was a very English argument against change and it was one of many that drove Harriet bonkers. Unfortunately the British wizards and witches seemed to have it even more ingrained in them then their muggle counterparts. She hadn’t necessarily seen perfect justice in the muggle world either but at least they tried. At least there was some progress being made on their side of things.

Whenever she got into a rant about it Hermione would join in. As they went in on the wrongs of the wizarding world Ron would roll his eyes at the pair of them and move along. He’d learned not to go up against them about it as his argument of “you can’t compare wizards and muggles” didn’t work on them. They couldn’t just accept the way things were as he could. Luna was more able to debate with them but most of the examples she gave came from the past or from other wizarding nations. Neville on the other hand would ask questions while not arguing with them unless he was very confident in what he had to say. When Neville chose to speak he always had a point.

Everywhere she looked Harriet saw things that didn’t make sense. It had always bothered her, these things she noticed, but it had gotten harder to ignore these things since learning the truth about her parents death and harder still since her name came out of the goblet. It was like an itch under her skin.

Hermione thought Harriet might have OCD. She’d even picked up Harriet some literature about it. Some of the symptoms did seem to match up but Harriet wasn’t sure about Hermione’s diagnosis. Yes, she did like things to have a certain order about them. And yes, she got hung up on things. She obsessed. When she wanted an answer it wouldn’t leave her along until she got it. An unanswered question could linger pestering her mind for years. Even though she’d forgotten much of her life from that time there were things from before she’d entered primary school that still bothered Harriet. But the things that bothered her it didn’t make her anxious. When things weren’t right it just made her frustrated. Very frustrated. Sometimes to the point of sadness, anger, or even fury. Especially when things could very simply be put right.

When there were simple ways of making life easier or doing something better but people ignored that option Harriet would feel an itch. For years it had been manageable but lately there were times she wanted to scratch herself down to the bone or cut off her skin for how bad it would get. The frustration and irritation at the itchiness would only feed into her frustration at what was causing it. She found herself very angry these days with just about everything and everyone. There were a few things that escaped her wrath.

She loved Hermione and Ron and Sirius but they were fire, and would often stoke her her up these days. Neville and Luna though, they were earth and wind. Being around them always helped Harriet to hold to her center and let go of stress. John was much the same, only when she thought of him she thought of metal. Heavy and securing, worked over to be made into what it was. John wasn’t willing to talk about his past but from the readings she had done Harriet could tell he was a person very much made by his experiences. He’d been through a lot of change over the years and made it through times of trial. If it hadn’t been for those three and Hedwig Harriet didn’t know how she would have gotten through the summer.

Finding out you’d been lied to all your life about who you were and how your parents died was one thing. Facing off against a troll that was lost in your school while terrifying could also be thrilling, if you won and if no one got hurt. If a kid wasn’t paranoid already someone trying to curse your broom so you’d fall to your death was a good way to get them there. Seeing a unicorn attacked and killed was traumatizing. Learning your teachers had put a dangerous artifact in a school of children then failed to notice a member of the staff was a unicorn killing, Dark Lord hosting, attempted child murder was disturbing to say the least of it. That she’d been the child that he had tried killing didn’t help matters. And that was only her first year. Second year was hardly any better and third had taken things to a whole new level.

After everything that had happened with Sirius and Pettigrew, then the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort’s return, and finally the ministry’s behavior through it all, Harriet felt she was justified in having been through just a bit too much.

Was it any wonder she was having a hard time of things? Her anger only got worse with Hermione and Ron and Sirius keeping secrets. Then worse still when she learned her letters were being screened without her knowledge nearly costing her a chance to connect with a member of her family. She’d written to Sirius about it ‘wanting to check that no malicious mail could reach her’. It was only then she’d been told why she didn’t need to worry.

Furious and not understanding why Dumbledore had kept John’s first two letters from her Harriet chose to keep her correspondence with her cousin a secret. That was until the dementors attacked and she was being expelled. Only then she wasn’t being expelled and there were more secrets and more that just seemed so obviously wrong. When the Order came for her Harriet had to explain that Hedwig was away delivering a letter. They’d thought nothing of it, assuming she’d been writing Neville or Luna or Hermione or Ron or any of the other friends they knew about. When Hedwig arrived that night with John’s letter and Sirius asked who it was from Harriet chose not to lie and revealed her secret.

The fallout had not been pretty. Everyone had been against her, ready to tell her off.

With so many of the people she trusted adding to the troubles on her mind Harriet’s anger and her itchiness had become nearly constant. It didn’t help that her unanswered questions had piled up so high it seemed they’d have no choice but to topple down on her soon.

Why did she have to be left with the Dursleys when Voldemort had been able to do everything he’d done to her over the years despite them? He’d kidnapped her. He’d resurrected as a big blue naked humanoid monster with glowing red eyes! How did they even know if the wards would work on something so far from human?

Why did they insist she was safe at Privet drive when beyond the wards with her casting spells not allowed she was anything but? Even discounting the dementors and Death Eaters a simple charmed muggle with a gun could do more damage to her since her Order guards would never question the presence of a muggle.

Why should she be left in the dark? So many times things would have gone better if people had just talked and been honest with each other. Sirius might never have gone to Azkaban if someone had known he wasn’t the secret keeper. Peter may have been captured years ago. Voldemort might have still been a hovering wraith without that rat to help him. Sirius would be a free man who could leave the house and get help instead of slowly going insane in the house which only the threat of death or Azkaban could make him stay in. And that was only one chain of examples of many that Harriet could think of in which being honest could have made things better. Even if they didn’t want to tell her everything why not at least give her some kind of real answer about the whos, whats, wheres, whens, and whys? Why not warn her when they were going to suddenly drop her into the dark?

Why wasn’t Dumbledore and the Order doing more to prove Voldemort had returned? Why weren’t they running a counter campaign against the slander? How were they going to win when they were fighting the war on two fronts, against Voldemort and public opinion?

How was leaving her to spend the summer wasting away at the Dursley’s the best use of her time? Shouldn’t someone have been coming to train or tutor her? How many times did Voldemort have to get to her before people realized she had to be capable of defending herself?

Something she’d always been good at was seeing possibilities and figuring out cause and effect. Hermione said it was because she was smart and good at deductive reasoning, like Sherlock. Trelawney told her it was their way because of their gift. Luna explained it that Harriet wasn’t a prophet like Trelawney nor did she have the connection Luna had to the world. She said Harriet was tied into all the possibilities of how the future might weave itself together. And the future is the present and the present is the past. The tapestry of the universe was made up of everything and every part of everyone and Harriet was connected to that not just for her part in it but also in the abstract, beyond her physical self. Because she was connected to these things her conscious mind had developed differently in order to deal with the burdens of her potential.

… Sometimes conversations with Luna were very confusing but they always held some sense that you could latch on to. What Harriet had taken away from that particular conversation was that she had learned to see the world the way she did because of the things she could subconsciously divine but hadn’t learned to tap into until she started studying divination.

Most people thought divination was a waste of time. Some even wanted it removed from the Hogwarts curriculum. For Harriet it had proven to be her favorite and most useful subject. She excelled there even more than she had in defense. Hermione insisted the reason for this was passion. She had passion for these two subjects and so she applied herself. Hermione insisted that If Harriet could apply herself like this to her other courses she would be able to do just as well. Harriet didn’t know about that. She thought Hermione might have been right in regard to Defense but with Divination she thought Trelawney had the right of it. Without the gift there was little you could do. With the gift divination opened doors you’d never realized had been closed to you.

The night before John’s letter advised her that the best way to deal with her nerves about the trial would be to wake up early and see where her fortunes lay for the day. Better to know than to not. Better to be prepared he reasoned. Harriet agreed so she’d woken up with hours left before she’d have to go to the ministry. With Ginny and Hermione still fast asleep she grabbed her supplies and snuck out of their room.

Her woolly bag as Ron dubbed it - due to Hermione’s once description of divination - was a gift from Luna. It was velvet with a view of the cosmos painted on the exterior. Inside an expansion and featherlight charm had been put into place so she could carry all her divination tools around with her without it being too cumbersome. This had been the best presents of the holiday as crystal balls were heavy. Just lugging the one around was a work out and Harriet already had four of them, each of a different size and made of a different material but all incredibly heavy. They were presents from Trelawney. For the last two years her divination Professor had presented her with a new crystal ball one at Christmas and one on the last day of the school year as an early birthday present.

Trelawney saw Harriet as something between an apprentice and a goddaughter. With no children of her own she viewed Harriet as a vessel to keep the stories, practices, and memory of her family alive. The crystal balls had been in the Trelawney family for generations. She didn’t trust anyone but Harriet to care for them and respect them the way they deserved. She wanted to hand them over to Harriet now before she collected ones of her own and grew attached to them instead. She hadn’t told Harriet any of this of course but Harriet had read for Trelawney enough that she knew.

Thankfully, Harriet really liked crystal balls even if they were heavy and bulking and cliche enough that her classmates would mock her if she pulled one out to use in public though crystal balls weren’t something she used often in her day to day life.

Crystal balls, for Harriet at least, worked only for seeing the bigger picture. Literally. While gazing into the depths of her largest orb Harriet could see all of the earth like it was a small ball to be held in her hand. She’d been able explore the galaxy and beyond with nothing but a crystal ball. The things she’d seen while looking out there…

And if Harriet looked up at the stars with her own two eyes it was like she was pulled out into the cosmos to exist with them. It had always been like that for her. She thought it was normal. “Admiring the majesty of the night sky,” one of her teachers had described. That’s what she thought she was doing. It wasn’t until she came to Hogwarts and they had their first night class for Astronomy that she learned differently. It was actually Professor Sinistra who first suggested Harriet might want to look into Divination class as an elective when the time came.

The funny thing was that while a crystal ball let her see the stars and looking at the stars pulled her out into the universe, Astrology made her feel like she was the universe looking in on the individual, seeing their place in everything because of this she didn’t really like delving into Astrology for reading people. It made her feel uncomfortable. From that perspective individuals were so radically important and yet at the same time so insignificant. Looking into a crystal ball though, that was something she loved, and as such she greatly valued the one’s Trelawney had gifted her.

Apparently she had been a hard person to shop for. No one really knew what to get her that wasn’t candy or quidditch themed goods. Once people had a second niche with her being known as a seer the presents she got developed a persistent theme.

Despite never buying herself any Harriet had fifteen sets of tarot cards. Each had been gifts leaving her with a collection of all different sizes, styles, colors, and types. Tarot cards were Harriet’s least favorite means of divination after all the ones that involved dealing with dead things or blood or eggs. Working with eggs just seemed weird to her but at least it didn’t leave her feeling guilty like the others. Tarot cards didn’t carry any sense of guilt but they did make her feel itchy. The meaning she was meant to put on them always felt constricting. Card readings just left her wanting to look deeper, to understand better.

Mirror gazing worked well for her if she was looking to turn her eye in on the present. In total her collection consisted of seven of them all of various makes, styles, and sizes. Her favorite was small enough to carry around like a compact in her pocket… sometimes she even used it like one. While dead useful on any other day mirror gazing wouldn’t be of much use to her at the moment as what she was looking for was not in the present but the future. Harriet would likely make use of one closer to the trial but for the moment scrying mirrors weren’t what she planned on using to ‘cast her sight beyond’ as Trelawney often described it.

For looking into personal immediate futures Harriet preferred tea reading, Kau cim, and some other more obscure or foreign methods she’d learned from Trelawney. The one she’d found she had the best luck with was a form of gazing where you froze still water to find your answers in the way the ice crystals formed. Specifically, Harriet got her best predictions from creating by her own magic a bowl of ice. She would then fill the bowl from her wand, and gaze while she froze that water with a simple freezing charm. Luna said this was because her magic was the purest conduit. She was only using the ice as a crutch until she had grown enough to stand on her own.

With the trial coming up Harriet was planning on using all of the best methods she had at her disposal. She would start by making a cup of tea, not just to read but for calm and clarity. John had sent her a mix that worked well and that is what she would use. In front of Sirius and the rest. To prove a point and also because it worked. While she waited for the water to boil she could check fire omens in the flames she would use to heat the kettle. When the fire burned out she’d check the ash while drinking the tea. Once the cup was done she could check the leaves and move on to go through a series of questions with her Kau cim set.

For answers to specific questions Kau cim was the best, just so long as you were asking the right questions. Her magic would cause the right stick to fall and give her the answers she knew inside her but couldn’t consciously call forth on her own. From there she would probably try a few things depending on what she Saw. She’d save the ice for after breakfast. It was a good meditative practice and depending on how slowly she froze the water she could either draw it out or rush it on to adjust for how much time they had left before leaving for the ministry. She’d need an adult for both the fire and the ice which bothered her some as it meant she wouldn’t get as clear of a reading but Harriet couldn’t risk getting in more trouble as she was already going to her trial for underage magic outside of school. It wouldn’t look good if she had a second charge showing up on the day of.

She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when Harriet heard talking in the kitchen. She tried to listen in but couldn’t make out anything. She knew she shouldn’t listen. She knew she’d get in trouble if she got caught but Harriet really wasn’t happy with the adults in her life at the moment. She didn’t like how they’d been treating her or the secrets they’d been keeping and she didn’t like the fact that they felt entitled to make decisions for her. Being angry with them made Harriet feel entitled to do the things she wanted despite knowing they wouldn’t approve.

Reaching into her woolly bag Harriet sought out the smallest scrying mirror she owned after her compact which was in the pocket of her coat left in her room. When it was in hand she sat down on the stairs and held the mirror out in front of her. There were several ways to “look beyond”. Harriet tried out a variety to find what worked best for her and mostly she’d found it in mantras. Unlocking her magic with words felt familiar, like spellwork. When she went to look beyond she had specific mantras she used as spells to achieve what she wanted.

Harriet focused in on herself. ‘I am here,’ she thought. She focused on the vision of herself in the mirror. ‘I am there’. She turned her focus inward again. ‘I am here’. The mirror. ‘I am there.’ The world around her body fell away. The world around the image of herself in the mirror went with it. ‘I am here’ she thought focusing on her body. She turned her attention to her reflection. It wasn’t her physical form but it was her. She could see herself from the perspective of the mirror. ‘I am here’. She could see in duel. Her physical eyes saw herself in the mirror looking back. Her mind’s eye saw what her astral form perspective from where it was projected into the mirror.

Having successfully looked beyond Harriet envisioned herself walking out of the mirror, to and through the wood of the door, and into the kitchen. Without a body she didn’t need to walk. She didn’t need to worry about a solid object blocking her way. She moved as a ghost would, a part of the physical world yet separated from it.

The first time she’d successfully managed to project her astral form it had disturbed her so badly she’d scared herself right back into her body. Even as practiced at it as she had become Harriet still found it off putting. What was most disconcerting about learning this particular skill was that sometimes she found herself feeling like her consciousness could just walk off even without there being a single mirror in sight.

“You’re learning to stand on your own,” Luna had explained in an effort to comfort Harriet one day when she shivered at the feeling of being that precariously tethered to her own body. The words were a cold comfort. She’d been too scared to do any form of scrying for a few weeks after but then the second task came. With Luna and Hermione missing, being kept somewhere in a very large, dark lake Harriet had no choice but to use the best methods she had of finding them and that was scrying. After summoning a broom, summoning a small mirror was nothing.

She’d come in second for the second task as Harriet been the first to reach the hostages, the first to rescue her hostage, but the last to return to the dock as she refused to leave the other hostages behind in case the safety measures that were in place failed.

With so much experience ‘hearing’ what was being said in the kitchen wasn’t a problem. Even if her astral form didn’t really have ears to pick up sound it didn’t stop her from being aware of what she would have heard.

What was being said in the kitchen did not make her happy. It did not make her happy at all. They’d not only been following John without telling her but Dumbledore was there and he was planning on leaving without saying a word to Harriet even though he would be going to her trial. Apparently this was because he it felt wasn’t good for them to be associating given what was happening with the ministry. Yet he still intended to represent her in court? Neither of these things made sense to Harriet. If associating was bad then why hadn’t he found someone else to represent her at the trial? If he was avoiding publicly associating with her why would he have to keep his distance in the security of their headquarters? Why wouldn’t they let her know all that was going to happen so she could be prepared?

Anger coursed through her veins. Her brain and skin became distractingly itchy. It spread from her arms neck and face to her nose and tear ducts while the inside of her skull began to prickle.

Why were people always doing things that didn’t make sense? Why were people doing things supposedly for her but not bothering to talk to her about it first? Was she that unreasonable? Untrustworthy? Did they see her as dumb or naive? What was it?! Did they just not want to risk that a fifteen year old might be able to explain to them why they were wrong? Was it just a matter of wanting to do as they pleased with no concern for what she desired?

Harriet felt compelled to relieve the itch that had spread out to consume her cheeks and eyes and scalp, arms, back, and knee, but if she move she’d call her astral self back to her body. She tried to hold on awhile longer but it was too much. She called her astral self back to the mirror and then pulled it back into her body from the reflection. She managed the entire process faster than she ever had before. Trelawney would be ecstatic with Harriet’s progress when she told her.

Once everything was set to rights in her own skin Harriet plopped the mirror down in her lap to free both hands to get at the itch that was rapidly consuming her. She grit her teeth on a groan of relief as she scrubbed at her noise and rubbed at her brow which became her whole face, then head, then worked down over her body from there. Once the first pass was completed she forced herself to stop for the moment it took to store the mirror and rise to her feet. With that settled she went back to scratching as she ascended the stairs.

There was a change of plans. Harriet would skip the kitchen and the adults for as long as she could. She’d head upstairs and take an ice cold bath. Cold was the only cure she’d found for the itching when it got this bad. Once she’d gotten rid of it she would see to actually bathing and getting dressed. After that she would wake up Fred and George and make them be her ‘adults’ to cast the spells she needed to carry on with what she’d originally intended to do in the kitchen. Given how happy they were to be allowed to use their magic outside of school they could use it to help out their favorite investor.

Stomping up to the tub Harriet turned on the water. As it came gushing out of the tap she stuck her hand into the stream to feel the temperature. Shaking both her head and her wet hand Harriet ground her teeth as she was faced with a familiar problem. At school she could just use her wand to bring the water down to a cold enough temperature. The first time she’d thought to do it she’d sunk into the water and found true blessed relief. The water was never cold enough at the Dursleys to completely numb the itch. She’d never understood what it was she really needed until she found that full relief which came from properly almost freezing water. Unfortunately after a year at Hogwarts with access to what she needed she was unequipped to handle herself when the summer came and she was back at the Dursleys. As she was not allowed to use her magic there she was stuck with water only as cold as it would come from their taps. While helpful it wasn’t cold enough to be a proper balm to her problem.

Still scratching all over Harriet thought about going and waking the boys early to spell her bath to her preferred temperature but then she remembered a faster option. “Kreacher,” she called. She waited a minute and still nothing. “Kreacher,” she tried again with a growl. “I am summoning you,” she explained so there could be no confusion.

It was enough to get the house elf to come.

“What is Mistress Potter needing from Kreature,” he mumbled giving her resentful respect. He didn’t treat anyone else that way. It was only Harriet who could get him to do something without having to threaten. After the order was given he might grumble about his mistress not liking it but every time she was there he put on a semblance of respect.

“Cool the water,” Harriet ordered him.

With a snap the water was frozen over on top and the house elf was gone.

There was still water coming down from the tap onto the ice. Reaching out blindly Harriet shut it off while she staring down into the tub.

From the looked of things it wasn’t frozen solid which meant it was just fine with her. She didn’t know if Kreature had somehow known this was what she wanted or if he was trying to be spiteful but she didn’t care. Harriet eagerly stripped off her night shorts. As soon as they were clear of her feet she was stepping out into the tub. Her foot landed on the ice and she pushed down. The ice gave but it didn’t break. With a bit more effort it finally crumbled letting her down into the water bellow. She sighed in pleasure as proper cold enveloped her skin but especially the sole of her foot which had landed on a second layer of ice that was lining the bottom of the tub.

While that all felt wonderful it wasn’t enough.

Flinging off her top Harriet made quick work with her foot breaking the surface to expand the hole to be just big enough for her body to fit through. Once it was of a size she stepped fully into the tub and slid herself through the whole and under the ice. Once she was settled she discovered there weren’t actually two separate layers of ice. Kreacher had frozen the water from the outside in all around the tub and the surface of the water. It was like a lovely ice cocoon with a cold almost frozen liquid center sporting chunks of ice and slush mixed in with the water.

Harriet sighed in bliss as she sank along the ice lined bottom of the tub until her head slipped down bellow the surface.

She stayed under for as long as she could go on holding her breath. The last time she’d timed it Harriet could last ten minutes. Ten minutes to let the sweet cold fight back the heat in her body until it claimed all her skin vanquishing the retched itch that seemed designed to tempt her into scratching her skin away. She swore sometimes it felt like there was something underneath trying to exasperate her into scratching away the cage that held it inside, letting the irritating demon out to meet the world. Sometimes she was tempted to give in but the cold settled the monster making it happy in its cage.

Chapter Text

“Harriet,” Arthur Weasley heard someone call from behind them. He tensed with his hand going for his wand as he turned towards the unfamiliar voice.

“John,” Harriet called out joyously from besides him. Taking off like a one of the twin’s rockets she bolted for the man who had called out to them before Arthur could stop her.

“Harriet,” Arthur called out but she kept going. “Harriet!”

He chased after her but he was an aging man while Harriet was young and healthy. The only advantage he had in this race was having some slight height on her but those few inches didn’t matter much. He watched terrified and helpless as the distance between him and Harriet grew. There was nothing sinister in the appearance of the young man to whom she was running but to Arthur’s panicked mind he might as well be a dementor.

Oblivious to his distress the two young people looked thrilled to see each other. Harriet stopped only a foot from the boy. She hesitated before lunching herself at him. He seemed surprised by the hug but gently returned it. His eyes fell closed. He rested his head against her’s with a look of peace taking over his face. It was that expression which gave Arthur pause.

As he took in the pair a motion behind them drew his attention. His wand hand jerked expecting an attack only to realize he was seeing friend not foe. Tonks and Kingsley were hanging back at the ready looking between Arthur and the kids waiting for his signal on how they were to proceed. Realizing that this had to be Harriet’s John did not help to settle his nerves but having back up present at least allowed him to pretend he wasn’t as tense as a bow string.

“Harriet,” Arthur said in clear reprimand startling her into backing out of the embrace. She turned to him with wide eyes having never received a scolding from him before. Well she was going to get one now and another once they were back in the privacy of 12 Grimmauld Place. “You can’t just run off like that.”

“Sorry Mr Weasley,” she said bowing her head.

John looked between the two of them with a considering expression.

Much to Arthur’s relief the boy removed his arms from around Harriet but then he took her hand in his. Harriet glanced down at the gesture smiling softly. The boy gave her a small smile in return before holding out his free hand to Arthur.

“John Potter, Harriet’s cousin,” he introduced himself.

After a moment of trepidation Arthur accepted his hand.

“You must be Ron’s father. Harriet talks about you and your family frequently. It’s clear she has a lot of love for you all.”

Embarrassed by John’s words Harriet shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes were examining the street rather than looking at either one of them. As she turned she caught sight of Tonks and Kingsley. Her eyes tightened and her expression soured. Arthur winced.

“She’s told us about you as well,” Arthur said finishing off the handshake. He kept his tone more jovial than he was feeling and his attention focused on John not wanting to be trapped under Harriet’s accusatory gaze. If he didn’t know better he would accuse Molly on having given the girl lessons on how to inspire guilt with a single look.

“I have to say I was surprised to hear Harriet had any cousins,” Arthur said trying to make conversation.

John frowned. “I think at last count we have got well over a hundred cousins with the name Potter though Harriet’s obviously more removed from most of them than me.”

Arthur blinked. The Weasleys were a prosperous line though they’d lost much against Voldemort and before that to Grindelwald. What remained of their number were mostly spread out over the world. Molly may not be happy with the career choices Bill and Charlie made but it was true to form for a Weasley. They were willing to travel where ever their passions led them. As much as she complained about the twin’s aspirations to run a joke shop at least it would keep them close to home.

Their family got many jabs for its size as well as their fortunes, or lack of but they had nothing close to numbering a hundred strong and that was including spouses.

“It’s hard to imagine,” Arthur admitted.

John tilted his head to the side and back. “We haven’t all been in one place since the turn of the century so it’s hard for me to imagine as well. I’ve never actually met more than a few and even less than that were willing to talk to me,” he admitted with a grimace. It wasn’t self-deprecating. The expression projected his judgment out at those he was speaking of. “From what I’ve heard, Harriet’s considered the lost sheep. Different parts of family have all checked in over the years but we were always told that she was being looked after by her mother’s side and perhaps when she was older…”

Arthur had never heard anything about this but judging by Harriet’s scowl he suspected this wasn’t news to her. Past her resentment she noticed Arthur’s inquisitive look and explained.

“Dumbledore didn’t think the Dursley’s would appreciate blood relatives coming around anymore than friends of the family so he kept them away the same as he did Remus. He wanted to respect their wishes,” Harriet said obviously quoting. “Even though he never actually asked what their wishes were. He just assumed.”

Arthur frowned while John gave Harriet a comforting squeeze to her hand.

The motion of Kingsley pulling out his watch behind them drew Arthur’s attention. With a pointed look his fellow Order member tapped the face of the time piece.

“Right well,” Arthur said putting on his most cheery disposition. “We should be heading on. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

“I thought the trial wasn’t for a few more hours yet,” John asked sounding concerned.

“Mister Weasley works at the ministry,” Harriet explained. “He’s got his own work to get to, not just my trial.”

John nodded in understanding.

Together the three of them headed off for the visitors entrance.

“If you expected us to be arriving in a few hours what brought you out so early John? Did you have some other business at the ministry,” Arthur asked trying not to sound prying which was rather difficult as it was answers he was after.

“No. The only thing on my agenda for today is being there to support Harriet. Being foreign and because of whom I’ll be there to support I worried they might make me get extra clearance or go through additional security. I wasn’t willing to risk being held up and missing the trial so I thought I’d arrive early to be safe.”

Arthur couldn’t see any deception in that answer.

Releasing John’s hand Harriet linked their arms. The two shared a smile.

Eying them Arthur tried to keep the conversation going. “Harriet says you have an interest in politics?”

John nodded. “Hard not to given the state of things. I’ve read about magical governments all over the world and most of them are more concerned with their prejudices and pocket books than anything else.”

Arthur couldn’t argue that.

“If it upsets you so much you could stay out of it. Use that fortune of yours to buy a little cottage and stay a hermit locked away from the world,” Harriet teased John who rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be very productive to just sit around waiting for change to happen.”

“Without anyone twirling it the earth still spins,” Harriet proclaimed with mock gravity but the small twitching of her lips ruined the effect. “Change would come without you there to whip it on.”

“And in the mean time innocent girls are summoned to court on trumped up charges.”

Some of Harriet’s good mood faded. She gave a shrug. “I did cast the patronus.”

“In self defense. And the first strike against you shouldn’t even be on your record as you were framed by a house elf.”

“It really does sound ridiculous when you say it out loud,” Harriet said like she’d only just realized this.

Rather than leading the conversation with more prodding questions Arthur chose to keep his peace and simply listen. It was hard to believe this was the first time the pair were meeting. The two just fit together like puzzle pieces. Thick as thieves having only just met and so similar in appearance that to the unaware they probably looked like siblings. Arthur had only seen Harriet so at ease with his own children and even that wasn’t always consistent. No, that wasn’t true. Luna had a way of putting Harriet at ease that others simply didn’t. With this John however it didn’t even seem like he was having to try.

Arthur had never had reason to use the visitors entrance before but the stress of John and the trial took some of the sign from the experience. With all three of them crowded in it was a tight fit but they managed.

When asked what business had led him to the ministry that day John answered, “The ridiculous charges against Harriet Potter,” which made Harriet smile at him while Arthur warned him to avoid such cheek in the future or he might hurt Harriet’s cause.

John kept Harriet distracted with chatter as they descended. When they arrived in the ministry proper it was obvious that Harriet was intimidated but John kept her engaged and talking which seemed to help with her nerves.

As they passed the fountain John pulled Harriet to a stop.

“Just a second,” he requested to Arthur’s frustration. The Atrium was busy with the morning rush and he didn’t like to linger in it with Harriet. Thanks to the gossip everyone knew Harriet had a trial coming up that day. If the Ministry was secure this wouldn’t have worried them but they suspected their were Death Eaters and those under their thumb working at the ministry. Even Lucius Malfoy still had Fudge’s ear. The ministry was by no means a safe place to have The-Girl-Who-Lived.

From his pocket John produced three gold dragons.

“For luck,” he explained handing over one coin to Harriet and another to Arthur.

Harriet rolled her eyes even as she accepted the coin. “Luck’s a matter of perspective. Tossing a coin in an ugly fountain isn’t going to help my chances,” Harriet said even as she let John drag her closer to the fountain’s edge.

“Explain the Felix Felicis potion then,” John volleyed back at her.

She frowned. “What’s that?”

“Liquid Luck and by all accounts it works.”

“And by all accounts I’m a liar and Voldemort isn’t back.”

Around them a few people had picked up the name and startling turned. Worried at the attention Arthur quickly said a prayer that the day would go well. He tossed his coin into the fountain then focused his eye on the crowd around them.

John was looking at Harriet amused. “You do like to argue don’t you.”

Harriet smiled. Looking down she rolled the coin between her fingers. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s a better way of letting off steam than hexing everyone and less work than pranking.”

Rolling his eyes John turned his focus on his coin while Harriet looked up at the statuary with disgust. Following her eye Arthur took in the display. He’d been going past it for so many years that the fountain just became part of the scenery. It was much the same for the other ministry workers. It had been a long time since he’d properly looked at it. Seeing it with fresh eyes Arthur found he agreed with Harriet. While the art was undeniably beautiful what it represented was an ugly truth of the wizarding world.

Closing her eyes Harriet took a moment to reflect on what she wanted from the day. She wanted the trial to go well and be over quickly. She wanted to spend time with John. Maybe they weren’t the most ambitious of desires but it was what Harriet felt was reasonable to wish for. She let herself believe that maybe it would make a difference. After all, magic worked in mysterious ways.

For the first time since she was eleven threads of magic began to leave Harriet. As she dragged the pad of her thumb over the design on the face of the coin the threads slipped from her fingers to coil in the metal before sinking down deeper into the building blocks of that gave the coin physical form and beyond.

Feeling she’d been standing there wishing long enough Harriet tossed her gallon off with her eyes still closed. She tried to imagine she was casting her hopes out to the universe and that maybe they would be answered.

The Fates thrilled. Harriet had never simply given strands over to the universe before. Always, always they had been tied to an individuals fate. With how little care she’d been showed the strands of her childhood were usually bound to a person as a curse rather than a blessing. Because of this the Fates had to use them to enact punishments which left little room for accomplishing other goals. With Harriet having offered the strands to the universe the Fates had much more freedom in how they were used but the strands did come with instructions. They would have to see Harriet’s will done. However, if they could see her wishes fulfilled with one strand alone the others would be freed to be used in any manor so long as it benefited Harriet. With what Voldemort was planning he was going to need good fortune to see it went his way. The Fates had planned on using prophecy to aid him but with this gift they would have much more control in ensuring that events went the way they wanted.

“Think of it this way,” John told Harriet having tossed his own coin off. “Donating money to a hospital that cares for the sick is a good deed if nothing else.”

Harriet nodded.

“Come along children,” Arthur said. “We still have to check in at security.”

Nodding the pair followed.

Over the sound of the crowd Arthur heard John ask, “Do you prank often then?”

Looking back Arthur saw Harriet’s innocent expression. “Oh, sometimes.”

As Harriet’s gaze traveled to him she caught Arthur’s knowing look. Her facade of innocence fell away as her lips formed into a smirk.

Shaking his head Arthur turned back to focusing on the crowd.

He knew Harriet was a prankster but he hadn’t realized how much until this summer. The children, especially the twins were happy to share stories of Harriet’s exploits when prompted by Sirius. Given his own time at Hogwarts Sirius was extremely interested in Harriet’s legacy as the next generation of marauder. It turned out that when Harriet put her mind to it she could be quite the prankster indeed with stories of her campaigns leaving Molly horrified while Sirius and Remus were impressed. The only thing which calmed Molly some was that Harriet only ever used her abilities on people who had earned it. Not even Molly could argue that someone throwing around a slur like mudblood didn’t deserve some retaliation.

Had John been someone Arthur trusted he might have shared these insights with him or at least delivered a warning not to be taken in by Harriet’s appearance. She may look like a sweet faced girl but she was a stubborn fighter, a devious prankster, and spiteful. When Harriet felt a wrong had been done she would not let it go. John however was not someone Arthur trusted and so he would have to learn this for himself.

At the wand weigher they learned John’s wand was ten and a quarter inches ebony with a dragon heartstring core. Not the typical choices of the American wand makers if Arthur was remembering correctly. He did know that dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair were the Olivanders' signature. Had been for generations. Arthur tried not to show his tension as he listened to the kids talk about their wands as they headed down towards his office.

Harriet wanted to know how wand picking worked in America since they didn’t have an Olivanders. John told her about all the many places where a witch or wizard could get a wand across the pond. There was even one man who imported wands from all over the world both new and used to sell in New York which was simply bafflingly to Arthur. He’d never heard of anyone doing something like that. All the shops he knew of that sold items requiring such mastery to crafted were owned by the masters who created their merchandise. He didn’t think he could personally trust someone to be as knowledgeable as they should be with something as precious as a wand if they hadn’t made it. Even more so with selling wands second hand.

“Mind you I’ve never been. This is all just what I’ve heard,” John explained.

“Then where did you get your wand,” Harriet asked.

“It’s a family heirloom,” John explained. “I think it might have been the work an Olivander since the years match to before the family immigrated and with the core. It hadn’t been used in hundreds of years before I got it. Not since its original wizard died but we made a good match.”

This explanation seemed natural and perfectly reasonable just like everything else John had said. Arthur sighed wondering how many reasonable explanations it would take before he could trust that this boy was being honest and was not out to hurt or take advantage of Harriet.

At the trial they tried to keep John out but he was able to use his status as Harriet’s family and her status as a minor to remain. The Minister tried to declare him a liar but when it finally got through to him that John was indeed a Potter and Harriet wouldn’t be facing them alone the reactions set off immediately before the Minister called the crowd to order. Dumbledore’s almost immediate arrival provided a needed distraction to move things along but provided extra gossip for those in attendance to indulge in when they were dismissed.

With the trial concluded the Headmaster was quick to disappear. Though he did send John a curious look before departing Voldemort only had eyes for Harriet and sharing in her relief that things were settled in her favor. If the Ministry had decided against her he of course would have stepped in but he knew Harriet would be happier that things worked out the way they did without the kind of intervention he would have been force to indulge.

With Harriet cleared of all blame Voldemort felt a celebration was in order. Rather than asking permission he told Harriet that he would take her out. And of course Mister Weasley was invited as well. His treat. Harriet’s exuberant smile made Voldemort’s heart swell.

He had spent the last long weeks since their parting longing to return to her side but despite that he hadn’t anticipated just how affected he would be by having her close.

Voldemort’s memory of the graveyard was clouded. He’d been in no state to appreciate what he gave up in letting Harriet go. Having her close was a comfort he’d never known. He thought Hogwarts was the only home he’d ever know but being back with her again Voldemort realized he previously had no concept of what home truly was.

Perhaps Dumbledore had a point amongst all his drivel. Love really did make an immeasurable difference to everything. For the first time he knew love beyond himself. In Harriet he’d found home. The contentedness of having her within reach was a peace foreign to his experience. To have made her to smile was a thrill beyond every other accomplishment in his life. Not even crushing Lucius’ hands in his cold grasp could compare.

By the time they left the courtroom plans were already decided on with no room for Weasley to argue. Arthur took an early lunch and together the three of them left the ministry, heading back out into London.

They had an adequate lunch at a muggle restaurant. It couldn’t compare to the creations a truly skilled magical might create but Harriet was delighted at the chance to go out and so the food hardly mattered to Voldemort.

While she took the place in Harriet explained that other than the Hogsmead weekends and having stayed in Diagon Alley she’d only been out with her muggle relatives. Voldemort knew from her letters that Harriet considered time spent with her relatives time wasted. Based on what she said and didn’t say he had many suspicions about her childhood and life with her relatives. Voldemort fully expected when he finally got the answers he wanted he’d be murderous.

Harriet was so eager to get away from them. Voldemort could understand. As a student he himself despised summers away from Hogwarts. It was only the hope that she’d be able to spend the end of the summer with the Weasleys that had comforted Harriet. It should have been a happy thing for her to leave after the dementor attack. Only Dumbledore and his flock ruined the escape for her with their suspicion over John. Harriet hadn’t told him anything about it as she was sworn to silence but Severus had. Hear of her discontent Voldemort struggled, wishing he could write to comfort her but John had no way of knowing there was a need.

Voldemort found himself oddly divided about the matter. He was grateful to anything that helped push Harriet towards taking more authority over her life and future. If those things helped to divide her further from Dumbledore all the better. But at the same time he resented anything that might upset her. The duplicity of his feelings was new to Voldemort. He was used to being more decisive in his opinions.

Harriet had been surprising him since they met and it didn’t seem that would be changing any time soon. When he reached out to her he’d expected to find a loyal sycophant of the Dumbledore the coot, ‘Leader of the Light’ but instead he’d found a girl who very much had problems with her self appointed overseer. Harriet was far from naive. She could see the problems not only with Dumbledore but much more.

Voldemort was at a loss as to how such an astute, clever girl had ended up in Gryffindor of all places. While it was true Harriet seemed to lack the ambition needed for his own house Voldemort firmly believed Ravenclaw would have been a better fit but he supposed Harriet could have been different back when she was sorted. He resolved that when they had privacy he would ask about her sorting. He wanted to be able to read her face, not just her words as she explained. He would have asked then but with Arthur Weasley present he didn’t trust her to be unguarded.

Their chaperone was thankfully remaining almost entirely out of the conversation. He was there of course, listening to everything they said but the only times Arthur chose to speak were when he was distracted with the muggleness around him. Forgetting he wanted John to speak so he could learn more about him Arthur would derail the course of conversation to ask about one thing or another that caught his fascination. Harriet didn’t seem to mind explaining and while Voldemort wasn’t pleased it did give him a chance to show John to be patient and familiar with the muggle world.

The only damper to the meal for Harriet came when she realized they were not the only magicals in the restaurant. A few members of the Order had been present when they arrived but had slipped past Harriet’s notice. Voldemort had been prepared for it as he’d noticed Arthur whispering to Shacklebolt when they left the ministry and had rightly assumed Arthur provided the auror with the name of the restaurant they were headed to. As they were taking a cab over it wouldn’t have been hard for the Order to go on ahead. Their mistake was in sending more members in after they were settled. Seeing other customers being seated drew Harriet’s attention and once she recognized the pair she couldn’t help but to search out familiar faces.

All but Lupin went on with their act while the werewolf looked at her guiltily.

Harriet scowled back at him.

“Is everything alright,” Voldemort asked with false concern, giving no sign that he knew what was going on.

“Drafty,” Harriet lied.

Shedding his jacket Voldemort gave it too her for which she gave him a smile.

As the conversation moved along Harriet put forth a valiant effort to pretend the Order hadn’t filled in around her but did occasionally slip and sit staring at them. It was hardly her fault. There were a few of the number who like Arthur were failing spectacularly at blending in. The shear way they marveled at things with curiosity drew attention to them let alone the bolder missteps.

When the woman sitting with Lupin knocked over both their glasses the contents of which spilled into her partners lap Voldemort was able to mark her as the Metamorphosis. As she flailed apologizing for a moment her hair started to shift color at the root before returning. He felt it was a shame she was so clumsy. Her skill as a transformer was a treasure but wearing a different face didn’t matter if your mannerisms were forever giving you away.

Once the mean was finished Voldemort would have been happy to remain talking over tea for hours. Unfortunately Weasley made it clear from the start that they would need to part ways.

Voldemort tried to make plans to meet up to do Harriet’s school shopping with her but Arthur cut in before she could accept. He informed them both that Harriet likely wouldn’t be able to do her own school shopping as it wouldn’t be safe. Voldemort didn’t like it but he understood Arthur telling him this. For Harriet’s safety it was best no one know when and where she could be found. Even if John proved trustworthy there was still a chance he could be compromised especially as that morning a room full of politicians learned he was Harriet’s cousin.

Reminding himself that Arthur was protecting Harriet helped to quell the urge Voldemort had to reach out, grab hold of Arthur’s face, and unleash the bite his cold onto the man.

Reminding himself that Harriet viewed Arthur as a father figure whom she would be horrified to see in pain and disfigured squashed the desire all together though Voldemort still entertained the day dream.

Having Harriet leave him was painful. He was distinctly aware of the hollowness her absence left in his chest for the rest of the day. Harriet gave no mention of feeling the same in her letter that night, only that she missed him. He hoped she wasn’t being afflicted with the same withdrawal he was experiencing after their time together. He would never want her to know the physical discomfort. The emotional longing was harrowing enough to deal with. Voldemort wasn’t used to missing anyone or anything. Very little ever mattered to him. Only a handful of possessions had ever been irreplaceable. Even when his body was destroyed he hadn’t mourned for the loss of the familiar. He had been angry at being brought so low. With a new better body now available to him he had no grief for the one he had been born to.

When the next morning dawned the ache still remained but with daylight came distractions to keep his mind off of it. It was only in the quiet moments when his focus returned to it that Voldemort thought he might not be able to go on baring the separation. His only comfort was knowing that he would see Harriet again soon.

John was still appearing to stay at the Leaky Cauldron which would allow Voldemort to contrive a bumping into Harriet if they did allow her out to do her own shopping. If in the end they kept her away as Arthur had said there would still be another chance. There was one place he knew Harriet would be. The Order would have to bring her to the Hogwarts Express to see her off to school and John would be waiting to wave her off. Harriet deserved to have family there to support her even if his title as her cousin was a lie.

Then once Hogwarts was in session he would enact his plan. If all went well he would be able to see her every night without any Order or Headmasters to interfere. After all, what happened in their dreams would be between himself, Harriet, and no one else. He’d held back from taking advantage of the connection between their minds over the summer despite his thrill at its discovery. There was no greater security then knowing that no matter how far away Harriet was from him physically he could find her in his sleep.

Chapter Text

Of all the Defense Professors Harriet had known Dolores Umbridge was by far the worst. Quirrell tried to kill her, repeatedly, but Umbridge still won the prize. At least in first year the worse she had to deal with in class were headaches, bad smells, and boredom.  Quirrell also had been kind enough to leave her alone between homicide attempts and as far as she knew the worse he’d done to the other students was the danger of unleashing a troll… when he believed everyone should be in the Great Hall well away from harm. In comparison Umbridge may not have tried to kill Harriet -yet- but for being all around awful, ruining the school year for teachers and students alike she got the prize.

Every interaction with Umbridge was a test of Harriet’s self control.  Sometimes she failed to restrain herself. Sometimes she would talk back. When she did it only ever got her more detentions, more time with Umbridge, and a deeper and bolder scar on her hand. Even knowing that was all it would get her Harriet couldn’t help but to give in now and again.  

Classes with the Toad were useless, her detentions were barbaric, and her voice made Harriet want to stuff cotton in her ears.  Umbridge never missed an opportunity to make someone else just a little bit more miserable.  She seemed to see every student who didn’t have an “important” family member to protect them as a target.  Harriet was told she shouldn’t but she felt guilty knowing there was a good chance Umbridge would never have been sent to Hogwarts if it wasn’t for her. Without Umbridge around maybe they might have a professor who would actually teach them how to defend themselves. Maybe students could be walking around without fear or scars on their hands.

While Harriet was the number one target for being The-Girl-Who-Did-Not-Back-Down-As-The-Minister-Wished Umbridge did have others she favored to target over the rest.  If you wore red and gold you were targeted.  If you criticized Umbridge or the ministry in any way you were targeted.  If you were a friend or supporter of Harriet’s you were targeted.  If you so much as breathed that there might be a possibility Voldemort was out their you were targeted.

Despite the vast numbers Umbridge terrorized after Harriet poor Cedric undoubtedly had it the worse. His word on what happened the night of the third task could no more confirm than deny that Voldemort had returned.  In theory that should have saved him from the Ministry’s war path but it didn’t. Cedric’s testimony aligned with Harriet’s in too many ways for those in the Minister’s camp to be pleased and no matter the pressure put on him Cedric stuck to the truth.

While Krum having no memory of it Cedric confirmed that the Durmstrang Champion had attacked him and it was Harriet who saved him. A wand testing and word from Cedric’s healer attested to the fact that he had been under the cruciatus curse and that it was Krum’s wand the curse came from. Given the evidence most everyone was willing to accept that this had happened.  However there were people who tried to imply or said outright that perhaps Dumbledore or Harriet had arranged for Krum to attack Cedric so Harriet might be seen as the hero even if she should fail to win the cup.  Despite being given multiple opportunities to support this theory Cedric was always adamant that he didn’t believe their was a chance that was true.  He insisted Harriet seemed genuinely disturbed by Krum’s actions and interested in helping.

Cedric also confirmed that he and Harriet had joined forces against an acromantula at the end of the maze and once the creature was taken care of they agreed to share the victory.  People found this suspicious.  They didn’t understand why Cedric wouldn’t take the goblet for himself as the “actual” Hogwarts’ champion.  There was even talk that Harriet should be disqualified and the title given solely to Cedric.  Those in support of this idea weren't happy that Cedric was vocally and unequivocally against stripping Harriet of her title.  “I don’t believe she asked to take part in the tournament but she was there.  She went through the same three tasks as the rest of us and deserves to be acknowledged for winning the same as I do.”

Sometimes Harriet wished they’d never come to that agreement. If she’d been selfish enough to take the cup for herself Cedric never would have ended up in the graveyard. Cedric said he was glad he had been there because at least he could back some of what Harriet said happened.

When they arrived in the graveyard Cedric hadn’t understood what kind of trouble they might be in until he saw Harriet’s terrified face.  “I’ve seen this place,” she’d told him in a whisper.  

“What are you talking about,” he’d asked coming to her side where she’d grabbed his arm.

Cedric told her later that he would never forget the wide eyed fear in her eyes as she looked around the graveyard or the sound of her voice as she whispered desperately, “Where is the cup?  Cedric where is the cup?!  We have to get you out of here.” There hadn’t been time to get to the portkey though.

It was a cliche but it all happened so fast.

One second it was just him and Harriet alone in the night. The next a voice behind them said, “Kill the spare.”  

“Accio cup,” Harriet tried calling out in a panic. 

Before she could finish the incantation a second voice was shouting, "Avada Kedavra!”

Cedric turned in shock towards the voices but he never got to see who tried to kill him or who had given the order.  He was blinded from seeing them by the bright sickening green spell traveling his way.  He had frozen in fear. It was only Harriet pulling him out of the path of the spell that saved him. He stressed that every time he told the tale.

In getting Cedric moving Harriet had pulled them both off their feet sending them sprawling on the ground.  Cedric stared at Harriet in shock where they lay but then a spell was hitting between them. Cedric blindly sent back a hex as the two scrambled to their feet. He couldn’t remember which hex he’d used.  Another spell came. In dodging it he ended up farther apart from Harriet. As he turned to run Cedric saw the cup flying his way.  At the time he hadn’t register what it was.  He’d seen something was coming at him and instinctively reached up to catch it.  He hadn’t realized what he was doing would let him escape back to Hogwarts while leaving Harriet behind.

He’d been disoriented when he arrived back at the start of the maze.  He was trying to process what had happened but there was new stimuli coming at him with people screaming and cheering, instruments playing, while the ministry officials and his father congratulated him and his mother fussed trying to see if he was alright.

It was when Bagman said that they would need to go find Miss Potter to proceed with the official declaration that Cedric was able to come into the moment. He told them that Harriet wasn’t in the maze and needed help. He tried telling everyone what had happened but the Minister dismissed it saying Cedric was delusional and obviously injured.  He’d sent people off into the maze to find Harriet while Cedric was taken off to see the healer.  

Only Dumbledore took Cedric’s pleas seriously.  It was only the Headmaster who thought to secure the cup, ordering Professor Moody to see to it while he followed after Cedric to find out precisely what had happened.  Of course it turned out their Professor had never been Moody at all but they hadn’t known that at the time.  They hadn’t known this until long after he’d cleared the cup of any trace that could have told them where the Portkey had taken Cedric and Harriet.

With how long it took to get Fudge to understand and begin arranging an investigation, Harriet had already fled the graveyard and was on the Knight Bus headed back to Hogwarts.

Harriet did actually understand why people thought her story seemed outlandish.  It didn’t make sense to her either.  Why go through all the theatrics with entering her into the tournament when Voldemort had a spy he trusted in the school?  Why not take her quietly?  Why not use an ‘enemy’ who wouldn’t draw so much notice if taken so he’d have time to reestablish himself without attention drawn to his return?  And the biggest question of all, why would Voldemort just let her go? Harriet expected a fight for her life in that graveyard… But it hadn’t happened.  Voldemort hadn’t so much as raised his wand against her. He’d let her go.  Why had he let her go?  He’d even ordered Wormtail to return her wand to her. Why would he do that?  Why wasn’t she dead?

Many other people were asking those same questions. Some were concerned about what it might mean.  After Dumbledore had questioned her about it he’d been quiet, thoughtful, as he thought the problem over. Some were concerned but more relieved then anything else.  “Well whatever the reason we’re just grateful your alright,” Mrs. Weasley told her at the train station before Harriet had to go off with the Dursleys. Others used Voldemort’s letting her go as ammunition.  

“Surely if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned Miss Potter would no longer be among the living.  How are we to place any credibility in her accounts when they simply aren’t sensical. Secret animagi, blue giants, and sorcery!  How are we to believe this daydream of what is obviously a disturbed mind,” the front page of the prophet read a week after the third task. Personally Harriet thought Rita Skeeter could have done a better job of putting her down. She would have be having a field day if Hermione hadn’t been blackmailing her into a hiatus from writing for being one of those secret animagi her former paper found so absurd. As it was the other writers at The Daily Prophet were having lots of fun with their slander, lies, and speculation.

The skeptics created many conspiracy theories as to what ‘really happened’ that night as her telling was too ‘absurd’ and ‘convenient.’  Most of their ideas involved Harriet or Dumbledore or both having staged everything.

“How could she have gotten so lucky as to ‘save’ Cedric from a killing curse,” they accused.  This particular angle just pissed Harriet off because of course it hadn’t been luck.  If it looked convenient and easy to them it was because they were choosing to ignore the obvious.  She had been training since first year as Gryffindor’s seeker.  Of course she had good reflexes. Then of course there was the fact that she hadn’t gone into the third task blind. She had been expecting trouble but it wasn’t because she’d been part of some planned set up!  She was a Seer!  How could people think she hadn’t been using every method of divination at her disposal to prepare? How did they think their wouldn’t be some sign of something as important as the Dark Lord’s return!?

“So you were cheating!” was one of the many accusations the Minister threw her way when she’d pointed this out to him because of course using a magical ability in a tournament about testing magical abilities was obviously cheating.

After everything she’d dealt with Harriet didn’t like being accused of cheating especially when often she didn’t have control of her gift.  Some things were shown to her through no effort of her own.  It was no different with the tournament. Besides nothing she’d gleamed through divination had actually helped her with the tasks.

She’d been having visions since the summer before her fourth year of Voldemort and Wormtail and what she later learned was Barty Crouch Jr at the Riddle ancestral manor.  She had readings warning her of trouble to come for just as long.  The night after the cup had been put out for students to enter the tournament she had an awful vision combining memories of all her previous Halloween nights where things always seemed to go wrong and hints of bad things to come in the future.  Because of this she hadn’t been shocked when her name came out of the cup.  Surprised that her Potter luck had played out in this way? Sure, but not shocked.  

For a week before the first task there had been omens of fire and danger in her future and warnings against taking what wasn’t hers.  In her dreams there was often heat and fire and something she needed to get but didn’t actually want.  None of that helped her with the task.  Without Hagrid to show her it would be dragons and ‘Moody’ to encourage her to use her broom Harriet wouldn’t have been very well prepared at all. So while she had known what was coming it had nothing to do with being a seer.

Maybe she would have thought of something at the last minute.  She usually did but they would never know.

The second task was much the same. As was the third.  She spent the week before with omens of death, rebirth, change, plans coming together, and all manor of other things which only served to make her more nervous for what was coming but didn’t help her in any practical way.  With no idea what would happen she’d channeled her nerves and frustration into training.  She pulled all her friends in on it too help her and tried her best to be a better, stronger witch for when the time came.
The day of the third task she’d spent every minute she could with Trelawney trying to divine anything that might help her but there wasn’t much time with Mrs Weasley and Bill taking up most of her day.

As they were heading down to the field Trelawney had pulled Harriet aside for a chat.  She’d been worried about her favorite student.  She advised Harriet that there were times to embrace good reliable instincts to stay away from dangerous things.  She stressed that Harriet could have a long glorious life as a seer and be valued for much more than being the brave Gryffindor hero.  Harriet knew what Trelawney wanted from her.  She wanted Harriet to do only as much as was necessary to fulfill her contract as a champion but Harriet really didn’t know if she could do that.  Inside a part of her was still very much that little girl who’d sat under the sorting hat wanting to prove herself.

Before she could say anything to reassure her Professor, Trelawney went rigid, her eyes glassy and her jaw hung loosely.  Harriet stood still having a good idea what was happening and wishing she had a pen and paper on her to write it down.  As Trelawney delivered the prophecy her eyes began to roll while she spoke in a voice very much not her own.  The voice of fate.

“This night the opportunity to save a life will be presented to the Champion of Hogwarts and she shall rise to succeed.  The champion will save the boy… but she will not be able to save herself.  Months of planning will come to bear...  The blood of the enemy shall be spilled. The bone taken. The flesh given. What is desired shall be obtained… but at a cost not expected. Alliances will change… The servant shall come out of the shadows to be seen and he shall serve his master no more…”

Trelawney took one last deep groaning breath before coming back to herself.

“What were you saying dear,” she asked ignorant of what had just transpired.

At the time all Harriet could do was to stare.  The words ‘she will not be able to save herself’ playing in her head.  Blinking she forced herself forward and took her Professor’s hand in her own.  

“I was just telling you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me,” she told Trelawney sincerely.  Harriet had her problems with her Professor but in the end she knew the woman genuinely cared about her and that meant something to Harriet who had known so little genuine affection in her life.

She couldn’t tell Trelawney about the prophecy. If the worst was to happen there would be no changing it. She didn’t want her Professor living with that. She didn’t need to know she’d been the bearer of ill tidings. Harriet could take the opportunity to make their possibly last interaction meaningful though.

Trelawney blinked at Harriet and then smiled a little wobbly.  She pat Harriet’s hand where theirs were joined. With false bravado she’d told her student, “Everything will be fine dear. I can see it.  So long as you don’t take unnecessary risks, and use caution, everything shall be well.”

“Miss Potter,” Bagman interrupted jogging up to them.  It had been obvious he was impatient to move things along.  “We are waiting for you.”

Harriet’s memory of events blurred together after that.  She knew she tried to get someone’s attention to let them know about the prophecy but everyone was too busy putting everything into place for the task to listen.  Then she’d been in the maze with the words of the prophecy rattling around in her head as she tried to make certain she was properly remembering the words. Then the dangers she’d come across distracted her from everything else. By the time she was recounting everything to the minister she’d been hard pressed to remember much of the actual words of the prophecy. Of course Fudge saw this as evidence of deception.  Right from the start he’d been trying to pick holes.  The moment the word ‘prophecy’ left her lips he was ready to discredit it by declaring her a liar or Trelawney a fraud, which ever would let him and others not believe.

“And why didn’t you have bring this forward at the time,” he demanded of her from where she’d lain in the hospital wing being seen to by Madam Pomfrey.  He’d turned to the rest of the room, specifically Dumbledore. “Had a prophecy actually been made surely it would have been her first priority to have it be known.”

What was she to have done?  Shout it out in front of the crowd?  Why would she have any reason to think that would be a good idea?  The crowds were always eager to doubt and turn on her.  When did anyone involved in that mess of a tournament listen to her?  When had anyone shown even a hint they would alter their precious plans because it might not be safe.  They put them against dragons after all!  A mother’s hatch had been crushed due to their lack of consideration for safety.  They hadn’t even seen fit to give them fire proof uniforms.  Had Harriet spouted off about the prophecy she was certain people would just have claimed she was being disruptive and silly.  Just a silly little girl interfering with their fun. Even those closest to her didn’t have faith in her word especially where divination was involved.  McGonagall with the stone, Remus and… well everyone with Sirius’ innocence, and most recently Ron with the cup came to mind. If she thought harder she could come up with a dozen more.

The words “lie” and “liar” started flying around pretty fast and loose once the Minister got a taste for them.  He was quick to say there was no way of proving what she was saying. Like they couldn’t send investigators to the graveyard. Like they couldn’t interrogate the man who’d been impersonating a Professor. Like they couldn’t go down to the Hall of Prophecy to check for the existence and precise wording of the two Harriet had witnessed!

When Harriet said she was willing to go to the Hall right then and there she was ignored.  All talk of the prophecy was suppressed unless it was to degrade herself and Trelawney and divination as a whole in the papers.  Harriet suspected that a large part of the reason Umbridge was so horrible to Trelawney wasn’t just because she was Harriet’s mentor but also because of that prophecy.  Harriet was certain that despite his assurances it was all lies someone in Fudge’s administration had to have checked if indeed their was a prophecy made.  They wouldn’t be able to know what it said but just knowing it was there would be enough to view Trelawney as a threat in much the same way they viewed Cedric as a threat.

While not a prime target to be completely discredited as Harriet and Dumbledore were Trelawney and Cedric were being targeted.  

What mattered to the ministry was that Cedric’s telling of accounts was not discrediting and slandering Harriet.  Everything Cedric said aligned with his fellow champion’s account for the time they were together and their was no degrading slant to his telling.  The ministry didn’t approve of anything that might validate Harriet and Cedric was doing that.  

The ministry had done many under handed things to try and make Cedric change his tune but the Head Boy would not.  Every time he had to tell the story or was asked for his opinion he stuck to the truth, though a polite version as he was much better at holding his temper back than Harriet.  The ministry and reporters both tried to trip him up, to get something they could use against him or misquote him with but they hadn’t managed to succeed yet.

It would have been one thing if it was only the ministry going after Cedric to abandon his morals but it wasn’t. It was also Cedric’s parents and friends who were encouraging him to abandon truth and take the easier path.

As Cedric’s father worked for the ministry their family’s livelihood was bound up with Amos’ good standing. While his job hadn’t been threatened explicitly many hints had been given and threats implied. Umbridge particularly enjoyed pointing out to Cedric how his actions could ruin his family. While his parents were worried that perhaps Harriet was telling the truth and the Dark Lord was back… the idea of Amos’ career coming to an end and Cedric’s own future prospects vanishing were of a greater concern.

Cedric had hoped to escape from the pressures of the ministry and his parents at Hogwarts but it wasn’t to be. Between Umbridge and his friends things were worse for Cedric at school than at home. Among his friends many also had family working at the ministry or aspirations to work there themselves after graduating. Some of their parents made it clear that their children weren’t to upset Umbridge. Some even instructed their children to encourage Cedric to turn against Harriet or told Cedric’s friends to cut ties with him to avoid his trouble rubbing off on them.

Not even his girlfriend was a reprieve from all the voices telling him to set his morals aside. Her own mother worked at the ministry but more than that Cho wanted Cedric safe. She wanted him safe and away from trouble and supporting Harriet brought trouble so she regularly encouraged him towards self preservation and away from what was right.

The year before Harriet had only known Cedric as a Perfect as well as the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain and Seeker but that changed after the third task. Cedric had been to visit her in the hospital wing while she was recovering after that night.  He had been very kind and very grateful.  He tried to insist she take all of the winnings from the tournament but she made him keep it.  Later when he found out she’d used her share to invest in the twin’s joke line he sent them his share as well to buy in as an investor.  The twins promised her as their first investor they’d given her the better deal, not that she cared.  She just wanted to see them happy and to see them make others happy.  She trusted they would do well so she didn’t feel badly for Cedric following her lead.  In a few years the investment would pay off.  She felt certain of it and the signs agreed. The twins had a bright future ahead of them.
Cedric only learned about Harriet’s investment through their letter writing.  In the hospital wing Cedric promised to stay in touch over the summer and had kept that promise with a letter every week or so until just before Harriet was attacked. 

A few days before Cedric’s father had been approached at work about Cedric’s writing Harriet.  The way Harriet figured it the ministry had to have illegally intercepted Cedric's mail to have learned about their correspondence the same as Umbridge had started doing at Hogwarts.  Harriet, her friends, and the Order all didn’t think it was a coincidence that her letter to Cedric was intercepted just days before Harriet was attacked by an apparently ministry controlled creature near Privet Drive where no one was meant to know she lived.  The working theory was that someone at the ministry arranged the attack but they didn’t know if it was for the ministry or for Voldemort.

Cedric and Harriet got lucky and found each other on the Hogwarts Express when no one was around to see or pry.  They were able to steal a quick conversation to work out what had happened.

Harriet assured Cedric that it was fine if he ignored her for awhile. As long as he went on sticking to the truth she would be alright.  He hadn’t intended to take her up on the offer but then they’d learned that Umbridge would be their new Defense Professor.  At the Welcoming Feast he looked at Harrier across the Great Hall and she’d known he was going to be keeping his distance.  She gave him an understanding smile in return and watched him sag in on himself while his mate next to him followed Cedric’s gaze to her and frowned unhappily.

Hermione served as the bridge between them while they were keeping their distance. As Head Boy it was only natural Cedric talk to Hermione now that she was a Gryffindor Perfect. He told her about what was happening with him and in Hufflepuff as well as in Ravenclaw as he got word about that house from Cho. In return she told him about Harriet and Gryffindor. When Hermione was first considering forming a defense study club she went to Cedric for advice. Right from the start he was ready to join though Harriet was against it. She told him he shouldn’t take the risk but he wasn’t having it.

“If you hadn’t saved me I would be dead.  When my parents first heard what happened it nearly broke them.  They may have forgotten that but I haven’t. I believe you that he’s back and I don’t think he’s going to stay hiding forever.  I want to make sure the next time something happens I’ll be able to save myself.  Please.”

Harriet hadn’t been able to deny him when faced with that argument so Cedric joined Dumbledore’s Army -a name Harriet wasn’t at all happy about.  Why they couldn’t be the Defense Association she would never know. Cedric brought along with him an array of Hufflepuffs, a few Ravenclaws, and even two Slytherins that he trusted to be in the know as they were family to half-bloods and through marriage muggles. It didn’t escape Harriet’s notice that his girlfriend and her friends were not in that number.

“What about Cho,” Harriet asked him after the meeting at Hog’s Head while the others were milling about or filing out.

“… Cho wouldn’t want me doing this.  We couldn’t trust her to stay quiet,” Cedric confessed.

The strain that had already been on his and Cho’s relationship only worsened with Cedric sneaking off to D.A. meetings and keeping secrets while Cho continued trying to push him in a direction he didn’t want to go.  One didn’t need any powers of prediction to know their relationship wasn’t going to make it far the way they were going.

Compared to all the other things Harriet had to be concerned about a ruined teenage romance and Umbridge’s incompetency as a teacher shouldn’t have been such major aggravators for her but they were.  She hated that this malicious woman had been given a post she didn’t even have the illusion of being qualified for.  She hated that this was going to effect not just students careers and grades but also their safety and mental well being.  She hated that students were justly so scared of a teacher. She hated how vulnerable they all were to Umbridge’s whims. She hated that the other teachers were no help. She hated Dumbledore for hiding rather than fighting back. She hated that Remus, Sirius, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all were advising them to just keep their heads down while they and other children were being maimed.

Sometimes it was all she could do not to draw her wand on Umbridge and attempt to turn her into an actual toad right in the middle of class. Much to Fred and George’s glee Harriet tried to cool her fury by subjecting the worse Defense Professor Hogwarts had ever seen to the worse and most persistent assault of pranks that Hogwarts had ever known but the longer things went on the less pranking the toad helped Harriet any. It didn’t feel like enough. With everything Umbridge was doing she deserved much worse. Harriet simply hated that woman. More than she hated anyone else, she hated Dolores Umbridge and the ministry she stood for.

The more Harriet hated and resented, the more rage boiled in her blood, the worse her itching problem grew. It became a near constant thing. All day long she would be fighting with herself not to scratch. She was so distracted by it she could hardly pay attention in class and her grades showed it.

At first agreeing to Hermione’s plan of forming the D.A. helped.  Having a way of pushing back against Umbridge even if it was only in secret helped to sooth the hate for a time.  She was making right in a small part what Umbridge had wrong but all Harriet had to do was to think about why the club was necessary and the itchiness would return in force.

When Dobby told them about the Room of Requirement it seemed too good to be true. To the rest of the D.A it was the perfect place for the club to meet. More selfishly Harriet saw it as the perfect place to escape. She developed a habit of suffering with her irritation through the day only to run for the Room of Requirement for an ice bath when classes were done. Once there Harriet would swim through freezing pools that blessedly eased her skin into calming.

At first it had only been for a half an hour but as the weeks passed the length she would remain grew. It started to get hard to force herself out for dinners, and studying, and even the D.A. Harriet started doing her homework while soaking and thanks to Dobby even ate her meals there. By the start of November she was rarely seen outside of classes and D.A. as she spent every spare second she was able escaping to the room, even if it was only a few minutes between classes.

Harriet became addicted to the relief. She relied on knowing that cold bath was waiting for her to get through the day. She told herself her growing maddening itch wasn’t a problem because she had the room to help her handle it. Then Umbridge passed an edict proclaiming that all students had to be present for meals in the Great Hall. Just getting through a meal proved to be too much and suddenly things spiraled.

Spending any time away from the cold seemed too much to bear. Her skin was red and raw from how often she was rubbing and scratching at it. A few times she’d woken up bleeding from the damage she’d done seeking relief while asleep. Sometimes she couldn’t sleep at all for how irritated she was. She took to donning her invisibility cloak once everyone else was asleep to sneak to the room. She spent her nights there soaking and sleeping unconcerned with the risk of drowning. 

She cut her nails shorter and shorter and spelled them ever morning and night to be protected against hurting herself when she was weak and gave in to scratching. Often she had to be perfectly still or she’d give in to temptation.  Her grades were falling alarmingly.

Eventually her friends wouldn’t tolerate any more and made her confess the truth. Once they got it out of her Hermione dragged Harriet right off to consult Madam Pomfrey. After a thorough examination Pomfrey gave her a very concerned look and a calming draft with orders to return to more whenever this ‘itch’ returned. She even ordered Hermione to see to it if Harriet didn’t bring herself in. Her diagnosis was nerves. That she was crazy. Though the matron didn’t use that exact word that’s what it felt like she was saying to Harriet.

Harriet tried to divine a better answer but all she could get was that it wasn’t a curse or any outside force but something inside her.  Her frustration that divination, the one thing she’d been able to rely on was now failing her only made the itch worse and the worse that got the more she questioned her sanity. What if it all really was in her head? There was an obvious correlation between her emotions and her symptom. When she was calm or happy she was fine. When she was stirred up she wasn’t. The calming draughts could help for a time so what if she really was slipping the way the papers said? The more she questioned it the more anxious Harriet got and the more anxious she was the more calming draught she needed. The more she had to see Madam Pomfrey and the Matron’s concern the more she questioned if she was crazy. It was a vicious cycle.

At least John didn’t believe she was crazy.  John reminded her that magic was tied into emotions and while the problem may be originating in her head it was likely her magic and not insanity that was responsible for her symptoms.  He didn’t know why it was happening but he promised her they would figure it out.  He wanted to get her to a healer. He wanted to send her potions and other things but it wasn’t an option with the next Hogsmeade trip too far away and Umbridge screening the mail.

After Hedwig was attacked John had surprised her by showing up during a Hogsmeade visit. Their he’d given Harriet a vanishing box that was enchanted to make whatever was put in one box vanish to its pair which John would keep. It was only large enough for letters so they couldn’t use it to bring a healer in to see Harriet or vice versa. As a protective measure any magic was stripped through items sent which would leave any potions he sent as nothing more than toxic sludge. So limited as they were John recruited an eager Hermione in to help. 

He sent along instructions for diagnoses spells and when that provided no more answers then Harriet’s tea leaves they tried to relieve Harriet’s symptoms.  John sent Harriet lists of cooling charms to try, reading material on meditative techniques, and tricks that were meant to help with keeping one’s emotions level, avoiding the extremes which seemed to trigger her.  For Hermione he sent her potion recipes and enchantments that could be placed on Harriet’s things from her clothes to shoes to blankets. Once Hermione had done the research to prove everything was what John claimed it was, all Harriet’s things were spelled to remain cold on the sides that touched her skin, calming potions were made so she didn’t have to continue going to Madam Pomfrey, and she was allowed to start using the charms John sent.

Together it all helped.  It did.  But only so much.  None of the charms or enchantments could give Harriet the deep cold she needed for true relief. She was still forced to use potions to get through the times she had to be out and about while she spent all her free time soaking in ice water.

It was Luna who finally presented her with a spell that worked.  When Harriet cast it she felt like she was freezing from the outside in.  Everything from head to toes would turn a wonderful cold.  It was amazing. It was instant easy relief.  Within a matter of days she’d become so familiar with the spell that she could cast it nonverbally. 

When Hermione learned what had finally given Harriet some peace she went off with the incantation to research as she was frustrated for not having come across it herself when searching for ways to help Harriet. It took a week and a pass into the restricted section for Hermione to find anything at all on the spell.  When she did she was livid.  The spell was not only a curse but had been labeled dark by the ministry and as such was likely extremely illegal and rightfully so as it was designed to do serious damage to a level beyond that of even frostbite.  Many people lost the limb the curse was applied to and a full body application was known to kill in a matter of seconds.

“Harriet isn’t like everyone else,” Luna defended which only made Hermione go on ranting.  Harriet realized what she meant though.  Ron and Neville too.  While Hermione was going on about how wrong things could have gone the rest of them were processing that Harriet had been using a spell that should have landed her in St Mungos at first application for over week, multiple times a day, sometimes multiple times an hour and she was fine.  In fact her skin was looking better that it had since puberty set in. She was positively glowing with good health despite having applied the curse not twenty minutes before.

… Harriet wasn’t like everyone else and that was terrifying.

When Harriet asked Luna how she had known Luna explained she had gotten the answer from Trelawney who’d had a vision at the end of class the exact wording of which Luna couldn’t recall but assured Harriet that it clearly spoke of her situation ‘being tortured from what lies within.’

That night Harriet stood in front of her largest scrying mirror and looked as deeply into the truth of herself as she could.  She found ice and cold and a barren land stretching out as far as the eye could see.  Above it all was an overcast sky made up of golden clouds of energy.  In the clouds were sparkling particles in a rainbow of colors that floated down turning into snowflakes once they got closer to the wintery landscape.  She lost herself in this world of cold and light for hours.  If Hermione hadn’t pulled her back to her physical surroundings she could have stayed their for days more.

Harriet had experienced true peace many times in her life.  Being a seer who could look outside herself and surroundings helped with that.  Despite the stress of her life Harriet had known peace but in that place she felt a sense of belonging and safety and contentment and strength that was alien to her.  She felt invulnerable, immortal, like she could do anything she set her mind to.  It was heady and addictive especially given that the effects came with her as she returned to her body.  For days she didn’t feel so much as a hint of itch but it wasn’t just that. She felt stronger and healthier and better than she’d ever thought possible.  The only thing that ruined the experience was the terror born from not understanding what was happening with her.
After the Mirror of Erised in first year Harriet knew to fear something so tempting yet unknown. She’d already given in to the bliss the room of requirement could give her. She wouldn’t risk becoming so dependent on the feelings that inner sanctum gave however helpful they were. She would not allow herself to possibly wither away because she became lost inside herself.  Harriet vowed she would not look so deeply again.

Trelawney supported her decision but pointed out that it spoke well of Harriet that she could find such things within herself, to be so empowered and contented with herself.  It was a pretty interpretation of things but it didn’t feel like Trelawney had the right of it and what didn’t feel right Harriet had found usually wasn’t.

Luna complemented her being wise in learning from Narcissus’ fate.  She said that Harriet didn’t need to look inside to find her strength.  It wasn’t lost.  It was there with her always.

Hermione was concerned with more practical things. Namely what damage Harriet might have done to herself with that curse.  She used the diagnostic spells John gave her as soon as she’d finished telling Luna off.  When her results said that Harriet was fine Hermione didn’t trust herself to have cast them correctly.  She insisted on a visit to Madam Pomfrey for a check up. 

They didn’t tell Madam Pomfrey the truth about the curse given it was likely illegal and the ministry had already proven they would take any excuse they could to have Harriet expelled. Instead they said she had been hit with a curse in the hall and they didn’t know what it was.  Pomfrey couldn’t find any evidence of a curse and so concluded it had either faded already or had been incorrectly cast. She was pleased however to report her results showed Harriet’s skin had healed from the damage she’d been doing to herself and all without having come in weeks for a healing draught. Pomfrey was very pleased and complemented her on having found a way to deal with her stress and sort herself out.

Despite the clean bill of health from the Matron, John and Hermione both made Harriet promise she would stop using the spell.  It was an easy promise to keep while the itch was banished but once it was back sticking to her word grew harder and harder but she did it. She stuck to her word.

They also made Harriet promise that once they left Hogwarts for the winter holiday Harriet would come clean to Sirius and the Order about what was happening.  If they tried to dismiss her concerns she was to insist on seeing a healer.  John also wanted her to ask about learning Occlumency in the hope that it might help her control her emotions.  That was a promise easier to make and keep. 

Learning the truth about the curse scared Harriet more than she let on to anyone.  She was scared. She wanted to know what was going on with her. She wanted answers. And so when she was informed in a letter from Sirius that maybe it would be best she stay at Hogwarts this year Harriet went directly to McGonagall.

With Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville at her back supporting her she asked to see the Headmaster and didn’t take no for an answer.

Chapter Text

Severus could clearly remember the first time he came to visit Malfoy Manor. It was during the summer break before his sixth year. He used the money he earned helping other students with their potion needs through out the school year to buy himself proper dress robes for the occasion. His mother had tried to fuss with his hair but he’d refused her. His father… That man didn’t deserve to be remembered.

He, along with every other dark aligned member of the Slug Club had been invited to the manor under the pretense of celebrating the upcoming nuptials bringing the then Narcissa Black into the Malfoy family. He hadn’t bothered to appear impressed with their wealth as would be the polite thing to do. It wasn’t hard to set aside the cultural expectations. He resented most of his pureblooded peers for what they had and found the opulence of their lifestyles obnoxious.

Severus had not known that during this party the Dark Lord was there. He watched in secret from the balcony above the ballroom to see who of the crowd might be worthy of serving him. The Dark Lord only recently confessed to Severus that it was his thinly veiled disdain which drew Voldemort to him. He respected a man who even as a teen could see how little affluence mattered compared to ability.

In the years since that day the grounds of the manor had changed little. The old growth had gotten older, the gardens were immaculate, and the Malfoys' signature white peacocks still roved about as they pleased. The inside of the house was a different matter entirely. The Dark Lord had taken to unleashing his anger on the manor’s interior and refused to allow the Malfoy’s to repair the damage. The Death Eaters living there had taken their cue from their Lord and ceased showing their hosts or their home the respect expected in pureblooded society. As such the state of the mansion had drastically declined over the last six months that Voldemort had taken up residence there.

In order to keep outsiders away the Dark Lord instructed the Malfoys to spread word that Narcissa had contracted Spattergroit resulting in the property being under quarantine. Given the nature of the illness no one suspected it was a farce. Of all the things a person who prided themselves on their looks and reputation could claim to contract a disease known for it’s disfiguring purple pustules did not come to mind. The ruse did its job of keeping people away while binding Narcissa to the house within Voldemort’s reach.

Despite the effectiveness of the lie Voldemort suggested that in case anyone should investigate perhaps they should infect Narcissa with the disease. He also suggested that Draco could be said to have contracted Spattergroit from his mother. With how contagious the disease was he of course would not be able to return to Hogwarts in the fall. He could remain home training under Voldemort personal tutoring. To the relief of the Malfoys their Lord did not insist on following through with either of these plans despite bringing them up many times.

The first months since the Dark Lords return had been a nightmare for Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco. Voldemort was relentless in terrorizing the three. The stress had taken such a toll on the family to the point that they were hardly recognizable by summers end. At Hogwarts many were concerned by Draco’s appearance when he first returned to school. He was disheveled, his eyes sunken, his complexion sickly, and his weight loss dramatic. The ignorant among the student body worried he was contagious. That the rest of Slytherin house was avoiding him didn’t help matters. It was well known among the children of Death Eaters that the Malfoys no longer had the Dark Lord’s favor. From them the distance around him spread to the rest of his peers. As he’d never been close to anyone outside his own house this left the former Prince of Slytherin abandoned. Even Crabbe and Goyle the juniors did not stay at his side.

Lucius still believed he could earn his way back into their Lord’s good standing but Narcissa had more sense. Though the Dark Lord seemed to have lost interest in her as the season changed Lucius was still being victimized daily. How Voldemort would treat Draco on his return was unknown but his mother wasn’t willing to risk his well being on the hope that the winds might change in their favor. With no end to their Lord’s displeasure in sight Narcissa had taken their fate in her own hands, making plans to protect the person she loved most in this life, her son.

In October during the students’ first trip to Hogsmeade for the year Narcissa used the Malfoys’ house elf -acquired to replace the loss of Dobby- to fetch Draco so they might meet in private away from those who might spy on them. It was the first time in over a year that Draco had been able to be with his mother away from his father, aunt, and the Dark Lord’s shadow. He wept openly into her arms and told her he didn’t want to return home, that he did not wish to enter into that monster’s service.

“You won’t. I promise you that,” she told him with conviction. She held his face in her hands and asked him to obey her, to trust in her before revealing to him her plan.

Draco had less eyes on him than she did and more freedom, because of this Narcissa was leaving it to him to reach out to Andromeda Tonks nee’ Black. She hoped her sister would give Draco shelter and a guardian should something happen to her. Such a precaution was a necessity rather than a precaution as Narcissa’s intention was to betray the Dark Lord by offering herself to Dumbledore as a spy in return for his protection for Draco and herself. His father… his father had chosen his fate. They could not save him if he did not wish to be saved.

She would not have Draco returning to Malfoy Manor while the Dark Lord ruled there. Her intention was to serve as a spy for as long as Draco could be safely kept at Hogwarts and then she would take him and go into hiding. When that time came she would take Lucius with her either as a prisoner or to turn sides. The choice would be his but she was not willing leave her husband to suffer when the Dark Lord discovered their desertion. In the mean time however she would keep him ignorant of her intentions.

The plan could have worked as she intended if it had not been for one key flaw. Narcissa had overestimated Draco’s occlumency skills. The boys ability was serviceable against a surface reading but distressed as he was and worrying for his family he was not as vigilant in protecting his mind as he should have been. The Dark Lord had ordered Severus before term started to use casual Legilimency on his students in order to gather information on both them and those they knew. He was bound to report all important findings to the Dark Lord. After learning of the meeting Severus had no choice but to inform Voldemort of what Narcissa was doing.

He hadn’t known what to expect from their Lord. Severus found himself unable to predict reactions from Voldemort since his returned. Despite reporting a lack of sanity to the Order the man appeared more sane than he had been during the first war. His fury was still there as was his malice but Severus believed there was reasoning and cunning behind all he did even when motivated by anger. This made the Dark Lord a greater figure to fear than he had been in the past. For whereas before Severus understood Voldemort’s motivations, he now did not. There was a greater game being played with Severus as a pawn who had no view of the board to know where he stood in it all or what the consequences of his actions might be.

When he told the Dark Lord of Narcissa’s plans he was met with calm.

“Inform Dumbledore,” Voldemort ordered him. “See what he has to say on the matter.”

And so he did as he was ordered.

It was Dumbledore and not Voldemort who told him to hold Draco behind after potions class where he was to dose the boy with Veritaserum as to confirm the truth. If the boy was able to resist the potion or refused to drink Severus was given leave to proceed with a full Legilimency attack. But of course the decision was left to his discretion absolving the Headmaster of any fault. When he reported this to Voldemort the Dark Lord sneered. “How considerate of the leader of the light… You will drug the boy as required but I will provide you with a list of questions I would have answers to. When it is done you will ask permission to check the boys mind. Restrain from causing damage but if he should try to hide anything from you do not hold back from getting what I require.”

Severus bowed in recognition. “My Lord,” he said accepting his orders even if he did not understand why they had been given. After what the boy had been subjected to over the summer Severus hadn’t expected to be made to act with any kind of mercy or care when matters involved the Malfoy heir.

The emotionally numbing effect of the of the truth serum had kept Draco calm through the revelation that his mother’s and by extension his own plans were known. He remained drugged and calmed through his interrogation. Perhaps it was immoral but Severus took the boys permission to check his mind while he was still under the effects of the potion. Once Draco agreed that for the sake of himself and his mother Severus could look to confirm the truth he proceeded into the boy’s mind. With the Veritaserum still in effect the boy’s thoughts were calm and free of emotional entanglements making the work easier. Once he had seen all both Dumbledore and Voldemort would require of him Severus left Draco’s mind and waited for his student to return to himself. When he did the young Malfoy’s eyes began to tear.

“Will you tell him Professor,” Draco asked sounding broken and begging both. His fear made it clear of whom he was speaking.

Having no tolerance for providing comfort to others, Severus handed the boy a calming draught. “Drink,” he ordered.

Obediently Draco did.

“After you leave here I will be reporting to Dumbledore. He has already received word of the letter you sent to your aunt and is aware of the intentions behind it. When he has decided how things will proceed I assume you will be made aware of his decision.”

Draco’s eyes went wide at the news. There was some awe and judgment both in him as he asked, “You really are a spy then?”

“And a far better Occlumens than yourself Mister Malfoy. Until such a time as you can properly defend your mind I suggest you avoid eye contact with others.”

Nodding in understanding the boy hung his head in shame. He was aware of the fact that his vulnerability could have meant a painful death for both himself and his mother and likely his father as well. What he didn’t realize was that it still might mean just that.

After reporting to Dumbledore Severus had no choice but to report again to Voldemort. He was bound by an unbreakable vow and as of yet he was not willing to sacrifice his life in order to oppose the Dark Lord. Voldemort had not yet shared plans with Severus to do any harm to either Draco or Narcissa nor had he given any orders to do so. Severus was only to continue to act as a spy for the order, a guard for Potter, and continue to report to his Lord. And that is what he did. He worked for Dumbledore in recruiting Narcissa and served as her handler since she could not risk leaving the manor often. She met only once with Dumbledore in person. Severus, the Tonks family, and Draco all had been there for that meeting to stand as wittinesses to the pact.

When Andromeda saw the state of her sister she brought her hand to her mouth. “Narcissa,” she questioned.

It was easy to see why. Despite being the youngest of the three sisters Narcissa appeared easily a decade older than Andromeda despite her efforts with charms and makeup. Such drastic aging in a witch of Narcissa’s power could only be the result of severe strain.

Dumbledore allowed the family members some time for their reunions before moving things forward.

When Narcissa questioned how much trust they could place in Severus, Dumbledore revealed to her the vow and life debt that secured Severus loyalty. If only the Headmaster knew how foolish his assurances were.

In the following months the Order had been enjoying a wealth of intelligence into the workings of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters thanks to Narcissa. Draco was reporting as well, feeding along what he learned at Hogwarts from his peers and as a favored student of Umbridge’s due to his father’s connection to the Fudge. However though Draco was doing his part, Narcissa was the order’s priced goose. Per Voldemort’s orders she was practically speaking under house arrest. She had no choice but to spend her days surrounded by all the Death Eaters who had been broken out of Azkaban as well as the ones who came and went freely from her home. Narcissa used this to the order’s advantage, even enlisting the Malfoy house elf to help in her spying and Kreature, the Blacks’ house elf to deliver messages to the order for her. Her greatest asset as a spy was that she was not only allowed but expected to attend meetings despite the Malfoy’s fallen status whereas Severus had been warned against attending. As part of his cover both sides were being led to believe that Severus was not trusted by the Lord Voldemort. Perhaps this was truth as the Dark Lord trusted him only with spying on the order and the Hogwarts students and staff, as well as the protection of Miss Harriet Potter but had lot shown trust on any of their other efforts in the war.

When first assigned his task Severus expected there were ulterior motives to his Lord’s orders and apparent concern for the Potter’s good health. It was after the dementor attack that he wearily accepted that the Dark Lord’s interest might be born of genuine concern for the girl.

After Severus reported the attack the Dark Lord’s reaction had been severe.

From the moment the word ‘Dementor’ left Severus’ lips the temperature in the room began to drop. When he reported how close the creature had gotten before he intervened the marble of the floor cracked, the windows shattered, and the chandelier came careening down all without the Dark Lord drawing his wand. On the contrary, Voldemort had been perfectly still in his rage. It was only his magic which gave away the intensity of his emotions. All after the destruction was concluded did the Dark Lord draw a deep breath and then speak.

“Continue,” he ordered.

The Dark Lord remained on his throne which had developed large sharp shards of ice that splintered out in every direction away from the Dark Lord like a shroud of spear heads or the quills of an agitated knarl. A parameter of frost formed around the throne and was steadily creeping to spread out over the floor. The Dark Lord sat in the center of it all moving only to breathe and to question Severus until he had learned all he desired.

“You will remain until dismissed,” his Lord commanded.

Having to force himself to speak Severus bowed at the waist and answered, “Yes my lord.”

Holding his wand up to his throat the Dark Lord cast a nonverbal amplifying charm on his voice before shouting, “LUCIUS!”

Severus only just managed to remain still. What pieces of glass remained in their frames shook where the windows had once stood. The hot summers air that was coming in there turned cold on entering the space.

He didn’t get to see how Lucius reacted to the state of his ballroom when he arrived as Severus refused to rise from his bow with the Dark Lord in this state.

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord said having dropped the amplifying spell. His voice dripped with disdain. He spoke to the head of the Malfoy family the way Lucius spoke to muggleborns. “Fetch your son, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. I am going on a hunt and I would have you observe.”

Severus had tried to imagine what his lord would be hunting but was overwhelmed with the possibilities. In the past it would have likely been muggles but the preferences of the past no longer seemed to apply.

The Dark Lord used a portkey to deliver the group to their destination leaving Narcissa and himself behind to wait with no idea as to what was happening. It was an hour before they learned what Voldemort’s choice in prey had been when the party returned without him.

“Draco,” Narcissa screamed running to her son who was sprayed with blood.

Severus could see that it was not the boy’s own by the distribution and so allowed his eyes to track to the others present. Most had at least some blood decorating them. Lucius in particular was drenched and looked overwhelmed. The Lestrange brothers looked little better while Bellatrix was wide eyed in a different way. She looked as though she had just been through a religious experience. Given the type of faith Bellatrix practiced such a thing was cause for concern from any reasonable person.

“What happened,” Narcissa demanded of her son but it was his Aunt who answered.

“It was glorious,” Bellatrix sighed with reverence. Her madness was on clear display making Severus finger his wand. “He decimated them. He took them apart with his bare hands.”

“Who,” Narcissa asked with concern. She looked to Lucius but could get no eye contact from him. “Who was killed?”

His gaze miles away Draco managed to croak out, “Werewolves.”

Both his mother and Professor tensed.

Ever since the night Lupin attacked him Severus kept careful track of the lunar cycle. Having no reason to do this Narcissa needed to turn to the window to confirm her suspicion.

Outside the full moon glowed brightly for all to see.

“He was magnificent,” Bellatrix cooed before carrying on with a telling of events.

Severus had never been witness to anything so disturbing as Bellatrix, still splattered with werewolf blood, describing the Dark Lord’s slaughter of Greyback and his pack while they were all in the throws of their beastly transformation. It was not the violence of Dark Lord having taken out the werewolves with his own two hands and conjured ice but the way in which Bellatrix spoke of the events which was truly disturbing. She was like one of his students; a besotted giddy teenage girl gushing at the perceived brilliance of her crush.

“When they lunged at him he would bat them away with a swipe of his hand like they were gnats! One of the most feared species in our world. To him they were little more than insects.” She laughed. “One tried to bite his arm! But the cold burned its mouth for the transgression, and the ice that formed over his arm shattered its teeth!”

Apparently the Dark Lord had left it to the group to defend themselves while he worked which was the reason for the blood. The wolves had gotten very close before being dispatched. Once they realized Voldemort was the greater threat the beasts turned their focus on him alone, and when the Dark Lord proved to be too much for them they ran… The idea of that was simply terrifying. Lone werewolves were known to occasionally retreat but a pack of any considerable size were reported to fight on too the last. Greyback had prided himself on having the largest pack in known history. They would have all been present for the turning that night and yet they ran.

When Narcissa learned that it was werewolf blood covering her son she had been quick to banish it and feverishly resumed her inspection of the boy for injury but found none. Seeing this Rodolphus and Rabastan looked to each other before likewise seeing to themselves. Severus took it upon himself to banish the blood from Lucius who was sitting on the floor still in shock and Bellatrix who was so wrapped up in her telling she didn’t even noticed what he did. Severus then worked on removing every particle of blood from the floors and the air using the charms he had learned in his seventh year to create a pristine brewing environment free of any contaminants. What effects exposure to werewolf blood could cause had not been widely documented. Severus had no wish to see a case study for himself.

Interrupting Bellatrix he asked, “Where is our Lord?”

She looked irritated at having her monologue cut off before her expression turned to one of vicious delight. “He sent us back while he stayed to harvest the remains.”

The rest of the room looked sick at the thought. They may have been werewolves and while pureblood ideology put them as lesser they weren’t delusional enough not to be aware that those wolves had still been witches, wizards, and squibs. For Severus it was particularly disconcerting given how close he had come to his own turning by Lupin’s maw. He couldn’t help but to acknowledge that perhaps in another life his would be one of the corpses their Lord was presumably deconstructing. Thankfully werewolves could not be used to make inferi so that was a possibility he didn’t have to consider as to what Voldemort would do with the bodies of werewolves.

It had been years since Severus acknowledged he could have become a werewolf himself. He had chosen to focus on his anger and hate rather than what might have been. It was his desire to end lycanthropy which had caused him to set aside his pursuit of a Defense Mastery -for a time, he reasoned to himself- to focus on his Potions Mastery instead. However his pursuits of a cure bore no fruit before that research had been set aside not long after he graduated from Hogwarts as serving his Lord then Dumbledore and teaching took up the majority of his time and set his priorities.

It took two hours more for the Dark Lord to return. In that time Bellatrix regaled them with detailed accounts of how each and every wolf had been slain. The images she conjured in Snape’s mind would never be forgotten by him. He imagined it would be worse for Narcissa as she had to imagine her son present for these acts and worse still for those who actually bore witness to them.

When the Dark Lord arrived he stood naked and covered with blood and other matter. They were all quick to bow and give their respects.

“My Lord,” Bellatrix breathed prostrating herself on the floor before his throne as their Lord seated himself. She sounded positively faint with arousal. Severus’ stomach turned as the display conjured up more unsightly imaginings to his mind that he feared he would never forget. If he bested the odds and lived to see old age he would shudder on his deathbed, haunted by thought of what was undoubtedly Bellatrix’s greatest desire.

“Leave us,” Voldemort ordered much to his most devoted follower’s disappointment and her family’s relief. He was staring down on his spy from the stage in which his throne sat. “Severus is owed a punishment which has yet to be delivered.”

Only Narcissa and Draco spared Severus a look as they left. Draco’s fear for him was clear as was his relief to be leaving but his mother knew well enough to conceal her own emotions from sight. The others did not spare him a glance.

Once their audience was gone and the doors were closed Voldemort ordered. “Your wand. Place it on the floor.”

It was only due to his considerable discipline that Severus was able to obey the order against every instinct which told him not to do it.

“You will not move,” his Lord ordered and so Severus stood still.

He was left to stand waiting, staring back at his Lord’s unnatural red eyes as he was observed in return. It was some minutes before his Lord rose and ever so slowly began to circle Severus, tightening the coil with each lap until he stood at Severus’ back. He did nothing but stand and breathe for a time. Severus could smell the death of the wolves on him. He could feel the cold from the Dark Lord’s body radiating out. It caused a new spike of pain from the scars his Lord had left on his neck after discovering the truth to his being a spy.

Soon the pain was in more than his scars as his Lord continued breathing down on him. Severus was extremely aware of just how large Voldemort’s new form was compared to his own. Those minutes standing there with his Lord at his back were the most nerve wracking of his life. He was almost grateful when Voldemort’s arm shot around him because at least the waiting was at an end but then he realized what it might mean. For a moment he knew consuming animalistic terror for his life but his Lord’s hand stilled only a hairs width short of touching Severus, of grabbing his face in that large monstrous hand with its blue skin and sharp nails, and cursed cold.

As Severus exhaled in a rush of shock and relief the air from his lungs froze on contact with his Lord’s skin and was bounced back on him to painfully caress his lips. Even though Voldemort was not touching him having that hand so close to the sensitive skin of his face was painful. Severus did not dare inhale knowing the air he might draw in would damage his nostrils and throat on its way to assault his lungs.

“Can you imagine her fear Severus,” his Lord, The Lord Voldemort asked in a calm steady voice.

Severus had not been so in awe of his Lord’s power since he was but a boy. He had thought his grief and resentment from Lily’s murder had rendered him incapable of feeling such things but it was there. The lust for power that had drawn him to the dark in the first place was thrumming through his veins intertwined with his paralyzing fear. Mere mortal men were not meant to be in the presence of beings such as this. As Bellatrix had said it, they were insects in comparison. Severus felt like a mouth who had attracted the attention of a volcano and was foolishly being drawn in by its light despite knowing it could kill him.

“While I would need the presence of dementors to accurately replicate her experience I think in this moment you understand the fear, the sense of helplessness… the foreboding of the cold and primal desire for your security of personal space. Our Harriet has known this too many times. Four times Severus has your protection done nothing to keep her out of the grasp of Dementors. Four times have they gotten close enough to do her harm. For ultimately saving her this night, you will be spared my touch. However, if they get so close again,” the Dark Lord leaned down until his lips were almost touching the curve of Severus’ ear, “you will know my kiss.”

Severus did try to keep the brat safe but their was little more he could do than was already being done. She had a propensity for trouble that was unrivaled even by her father and his pack of mongrels. At least in Hogwarts walls it was easier to keep an eye on the girl but on the first day of classes she had already manage to get herself a detention with that detestable ministry bint.

When he learned from McGonagall that Umbridge had claimed multiple nights with the Potter brat Severus just known it wouldn’t mean anything good for him.

He’d waited at the end of the hall through Potter’s detention scaring away all the students that came near. When the girl was finally released he waited for her around the corner where Umbridge could not see. She had her head down and was staring at the back as she rounded causing her to almost walk into him. When she realized who was in front of her, her eyes went wide before squinting. He could practically see the thought ‘why me’ written on her pinched face. He raised a brow in return before doing a sweep of her person looking for signs of damage. The sight of her hand made his jaw flex.

He signaled for her to follow him and without waiting for her sassing turned to lead her down to the dungeons. He heard her sigh behind him, and linger, before reluctantly following.

“Sit,” he ordered once they arrived at his quarters, pointing to the chair closest to the door. He was loathe to have as the Weasley twins affectionately called her ‘Gryffindor’s Prankster Princess’ knowing where his quarters were, but Voldemort had made it clear that he should be at the girl’s disposal. It would not do if something happened because she did not know where to find him.

He kept his face carefully neutral through their interaction that night. He questioned her about her detention and examined her hand. When that was done he went about prescribing and applying a treatment before escorting her off to bed. He would wait until the end of the week to heal the wound properly as Potter had quoted Umbridge as saying she wanted the words to leave an impression.

Once Potter was left safely at her common room Severus took the same path back to his quarters. A little over half way there he faked the signs of having received a summons for the sake of the portraits as well as any other watching eyes. He continued to his quarters at brisk pace. Once there he flood Dumbledore to let the Headmaster know he’d been called. Dumbledore sent him off with a concerned look and a ‘best of luck’ before Severus pulled back from the flames and went to report what had happened to his Lord.

He expected a grueling punishment but that is not what he received.

“She is to have another detention tomorrow,” his Lord said forcing out the words as frost crept out around him.

“Yes my Lord.”

“Than adjourn to the hall Severus. Harriet will have need of you. It wouldn’t do for me to break you while you will need to be… serviceable.”

Once the door was closed behind him the Dark Lord unleashed his anger on the ballroom which he had not allowed to be repaired after his last bout of destruction before the werewolves slaughter. Severus listened from the other side of the door. Only Bellatrix was there with him as all others had the good sense to flee to the far corners of the mansion. By the time Voldemort called him back into the room Severus could see nothing he recognized from his first visit there was a teen. It was only thanks to the magical enchantments of the Malfoy ancestors that the room was still standing after what it endured.

Severus received his orders and was banished from the mansion until reporting again the following night.

Things had calmed after that as Severus could report no new harms done to the girl, only that much she did that was foolish or undesirable. Unlike himself the Dark Lord took amusement in Potter’s pranks and the forming of ‘Dumbledore’s Army.’ It wasn’t until November that any trouble arose again but thankfully Voldemort did not blame him for failing to protect the girl from her own body.

Walking up the Malfoy’s path Severus did not try to guess how his Lord would react to the news he was bringing. With the Winter Holiday soon to start Potter’s protection would fall to others in a matter of days. Perhaps the Dark Lord would wish to finally take out his anger on Severus rather than the manor or on the prisoners he had been collecting in its dungeon.

The Malfoy matriarch was waiting for him at the door.

“Severus,” Narcissa greeted with no warmth as she had her own cover to keep. “There is a meeting at present. Given our Lord’s orders you would do well to return later.”

That was what Narcissa believed but because Severus knew better be pushed past her and strode on. “He would not wish for the news I bring to be delayed.”

“On your own head be it,” Narcissa said, her warning clear.

Severus paused which gave her time to close the door and catch up to him.

He looked at her questioningly. As she looked back some of her mask slipped.

The Dark Lord’s temper had been worsening over the last month. Whether this was because of Potter or some factor unknown to Severus he could not say. At the start of December Voldemort had returned to using the cruciatus curse on his followers as well as using his touch to punish which had previously only been used in a few select cases. Even Bellatrix had learned to be apprehensive in their Lord’s presence.

“How is Draco,” Narcissa asked as they continued to the ballroom.

“Looking forward to Christmas at Hogwarts,” Severus told her. He lingered a moment to watch her relief before facing forward.

The Order had worried they would loose Narcissa as a spy when the holidays came. Draco’s safety was her greatest priority, not the war. Had the Dark Lord insisted on her son returning home for the break Narcissa would have played at compliance only to run with Draco when the time came. Their concern proved unneeded. While their Lord had asked after Draco and pushed for an excuse as to why the Malfoy heir would not be returning to his home for the holiday, Voldemort ultimately did not demand Draco’s return. This gave Severus hope that for whatever reason their Lord did not intend to kill the boy… at least not yet. Severus knew from experience that the longer Draco managed to survive the better his chances that he would go on living.

Slipping through the door to the ballroom quietly didn’t matter as the Dark Lord’s eyes were instantly on Severus and on him they stayed. The room noticed the shift in their Lord’s attention and followed it to Severus. The room tensed as they knew Severus was not meant to be present for meetings but as their Lord gave no further reaction they did not know what, if anything they should do themselves.

As it seemed the Dark Lord was ignoring him Avery who had been presenting his weekly report when Severus entered grew uncertain in his presentation. The more he hesitated and stumbled in his delivery the more taunt the atmosphere of the room became.

When Avery finally finished the Dark Lord spoke. “You are all dismissed. You will report back tomorrow evening unless called sooner.”

All rushed in bowing and paying their respects so they could leave while Severus moved forward to present himself. When the door was pulled shut behind the last he started to say, “My Lord,” but was interpreted.

“Report,” Voldemort ordered, hissing the word in a way reminiscent of parseltongue.

Normally the Dark Lord expected reports to be given chronologically unless a question predicated a deviation. Given his Lord’s mood and the nature of the news he was to bring Severus ignored the convention and opened what he felt mattered most. “She is not ill my Lord. I was able to discover what is causing her symptoms. It is of no threat to her health.”

Any doubts Severus might have had about the Dark Lord’s concern for Potter would die at seeing his reaction. Despite having an audience Voldemort relaxed back into his throne and closed his eyes in relief. It almost looked as though he was taking a moment to send out a prayer in gratitude.

“She remains at Hogwarts,” Voldemort asked his eyes still closed.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And her symptoms?”

“Being treated and monitored, my lord.”

“She is not in pain?”

“No, my Lord.”

“She is not distressed?”

“No, my Lord.”

“She is safe?”

Severus hesitated then chose to answer honestly. “As safe as I can assure her to be.”

The Dark Lord cracked his eyes open to stare down Severus who refused to flinch or fidget or be comparable in anyway to Avery and the undignified display he had made of himself.

“Continue with your report as usual,” his Lord ordered.

***

In truth Voldemort cared little for much of what Severus had to say on the Order and their pathetic efforts. All he cared about was what had happened with Harriet. He reminded himself that Severus said Harriet was well and so he did not need to rush the standard report or skip that which did not interest him. To further help his focus he told himself that something he heard might be of help in the future whether in ensuring Harriet’s well being or happiness. It did help some in getting through.

The Order was thrilled with Narcissa and her spying efforts, feeling they were receiving treasures when in fact they were being delivered Leprechaun gold. She told them nothing that Voldemort was not happy to have her share. ‘The Dark Lord is insane.’ ‘The Dark tortures his own people.’ ‘The Dark Lord continues to practice dark rituals that even a daughter of the house Black cannot recognize.’ Everything they were learning only furthered his goals as Narcissa unknowingly served his aims beautifully.

After his decimation of Fenrir’s pack the few survivors he had allowed to escape were either deep in hiding or spreading word of what he’d done to other werewolves and denizens of Knockturn Alley alike. With so many hearing the tale and being stirred into a panic by it word couldn’t help but to reach the ministry. From there it traveled out through the gossip vine to the more upstanding citizens. The rumors resulted in Fudge overreacting as was his way. His obvious panic helped to spread doubt in him and his administration.

Dumbledore received word of the massacre from Severus that very night though he did not know the truth of what had predicated the quelling of the pack. Their spy had led the old fool to believing that it may have been for a potion or a ritual which Dumbledore passed on as fact to his Order.

Lupin was being sent out to optimize on the fear created by Voldemort’s turning on one of his most loyal allies. The tamed wolf was offering shelter and Dumbledore’s support to all werewolves but particularly to the survivors of the slaughter who might provide information on Voldemort and his people. As a result several had been successfully brought into the fold. Dumbledore was very pleased to be giving these ‘lost souls’ a chance at redemption. Voldemort was very pleased as well.

He hadn’t planned on killing the wolves just yet but it had been his intention from the beginning to wipe out the pack which is why he’d reconnected with Fenrir in the first place. He watched them during a previous turn so he would be able to recognize which wolves were which members of the pack. Those he allowed to survive were of the lowest threat. They were the ones who didn’t wish to do harm or to embrace what they were but didn’t know where else to go. While he would not want them near Harriet on a full moon he trusted he could leave them to walk the same streets as her without worrying more for her safety than he already did.

After the werewolves had come the vampires. Voldemort didn’t go after those that were grey or light, and never those who were dark but reasonable. It was only vampires who lived up to the monsters muggles dreamed of in their nightmares that he eliminated. Those who enjoyed pain and torture and making victims of their food fell to his bloodlust. During negotiations with various vampire clans, covens, and individuals he would be unreasonable and uncompromising in the outrageous demands he presented. He left them no choice but to deny him and when they did he acted out his desire to murder and maim. Every time Umbridge drew Harriet’s blood another bloodsucker died while Voldemort imagined having ‘The Toad’ in their stead.

That this was the second race he was making war with where he should have had allies elated the ‘light’ and disturbed his own people. That it was much the same with the witches, wizards, and other beings Voldemort was targeting only increased their worry while reinforcing their fear of him and with it their desire to keep from becoming his target. Only Narcissa had chosen to turn against him though some were considering deserting and running to the continent or across the sea.

Voldemort still had his people probing the Department of Mysteries in order to keep the Order occupied and in response Order still guarding it as he desired while the ministry stayed ignorant.

Fudge was still loosing support.

Dumbledore was still biding his time.

The only things Severus had to report from the Order’s latest meeting which interest Voldemort were the subjects of John and of course Harriet.

Dumbledore had confirmed John’s backstory while it was still late summer. He’d used one of his pawns to follow the trail of breadcrumbs which had been left behind for just this purpose. Passing muster had by no means award John trust but it did make the Order question whether they were right to doubt him. With months having passed without any sign of ill intent or ulterior motives they were starting to warm to the idea of John. When they learned it was him who had encouraged Harriet to come to them with her problems it earned him further approval.

Voldemort of course had his own cover to keep and as such had to appear suspicious of John and frustrated that his own people could find no more than Dumbledore’s about this boy. He questioned Severus on the subject of Harriet’s supposed cousin enough in the past that this night he felt he could skip over it all but for brief showings of interest before moving on to what he actually cared about. Harriet’s health.

He had worried they would need to wait for the winter break before they would get answers but Dumbledore it seemed was as impatient as him in this matter once Harriet brought it to him. The Headmaster had intended to keep Harriet at Hogwarts over the holiday in the name of protecting her. As Harriet had a promise to keep she would not accept this and insisted on speaking with him. Once she was face to face with Dumbledore she confessed to him what had been happening. With her friends serving as her witnesses to the severity of her plight the Headmaster heard her out on the matter.

Once he understood the extent of the situation the headmaster was not willing to put off looking for answers. Unfortunately for Dumbledore the number of healers he trusted was limited. Fortunately for Voldemort that meant Severus was the one the old fool turned to. All of this he had learned the night before from one of Harriet’s letters as she had written to John before Severus could report.

Harriet had not enjoyed having Severus as a healer. She confessed that she hadn’t seen a doctor since finding out she was a witch. Only Madam Pomfrey who was not a physician. It was not her job to see to the general wellness of her charges but to the immediate complaints they brought her. Harriet had been in no way prepared to answer the questions Severus asked her. That it was her Potion Professor asking about her symptoms, diet, sleeping habits, menstrual cycle, and other concerns did not help her embarrassment. Thankfully the young men had been left behind with the Headmaster while Granger and Lovegood remained with Harriet to give her support which both helped and worsened her feelings of awkwardness about the situation.

After a thorough questioning Severus had proceeded with hours of examinations and tests. When he reported to Voldemort before the Orders meeting he could say nothing conclusive as they were still waiting on results which were now apparently in.

“Dumbledore reacted as you predicted he would. He requested I bring the results to him before presenting them to the girl. I have informed him that what she is feeling is the result of her bond to you similar to when in the past she was able to feel your emotions. Given he already fears the connection between you two and the possibility of possession he did not question the diagnosis. With the information I’ve fed the order about your new form causing you ills and your new affinity with cold her symptoms match well. As per your desires I recommended to him that she begin occlumency training immediately. Naturally he agreed and insisted I be the one to teach her as Dumbledore now more than ever feels he must keep his distance from the girl. Miss Potter is to return to headquarters for the holiday where she and I will spend our days beginning her lessons. Per your orders I will use the opportunity to get closer to her while teaching her techniques that she will believe are to prepare her for her training but will not aid her in shielding her mind. I will prioritize teaching her ways with which she might better control her emotions.”

Voldemort nodded, a sign he had no questions and wished for Severus to continue.

“She reported to me this evening along with Miss Lovegood and was made aware of what Dumbledore had approved to be told to her.”

“Granger,” Voldemort asked.

“Had detention with Umbridge.”

Voldemort flexed his hand. He knew it bothered Harriet more when her friends were hurt than it did when she herself was. That Granger was subjected to a blood quill this night would upset her greatly even with Severus discreetly providing treatment to all the effected students. Voldemort so longed to dig his fingers into Umbridge’s face for all she was putting Harriet through. Perhaps he could take one of her eyes while he was at it. Not both though. He would want her to be able to look in the mirror and see what had been made of her for her transgressions.

It was daydreams like this that helped him get through Severus’ reports the last four months. The Toad suffered many a harrowing punishment in his mind but unfortunately she would get nothing nearly so… visceral when the time for her actual punishment came. Those Harriet could condone corporal punishment on, let alone maiming were few and far between. Perhaps the universe would be kind and Umbridge would find herself of a low enough standing with Harriet that he would be able to act as he wished when the time came. He had some hope given the lengths she had been taking her pranks against the amphibian as of late.

Voldemort brought his hands together in front of his lips. “Very good Severus. And what of the truth. Is it a being inheritance as we speculated?”

Severus gave a nod. “She is not only witch, though what else she carries I could not identify making it appear our theory is correct. Whatever race she carries in her blood is not of this earth.”

Voldemort looked at his own hand in front of him. He had little doubt it would be as such given the results he had gotten from testing his own blood.

The Potter line could be traced back hundreds of years and a hundred years more. That family had only ever bred with fellow humans. At least that was the case with Harriet’s branch according to ministry records. Because of this it seemed likely to Voldemort this inheritance came from her maternal line. That Lily Evans was the first witch of her family led him to suspect that it was Harriet’s grandfather that was the non-human.

“Perhaps Mrs Evan’s was unfaithful to her husband,” he mused allowed when he and Severus had been discussing this matter months prior. “The sister is without magic and you yourself say that Lily was far from her in both looks and temperament.”

Severus had frowned at that innocent speculation. He didn’t care for anything that besmirched his gilded memories of Lily Evans and this extended to her parents who had been kind to him in his youth.

“…Lily never showed signs of an inheritance the likes of which Miss Potter is displaying. Being only a first generation witch it is unlikely she would be able to successfully treat and hide the symptoms. More likely she would have reported to the Matron for treatment believing she had caught a magical malady. As an old and known pureblooded family the Potters would have reason to hide such an inheritance and know how to go about it… According to all accounts Potter’s parents spent decades of marriage unsuccessful in conceiving. Perhaps they had to look outside their marriage to conceive the child they desired,” Severus suggested respectfully.

Voldemort could admit the theory had merit but even with an inheritance confirmed where Harriet had gotten it from wasn’t his greatest concern.

It took some time to question Severus to his satisfaction. When he was finished Voldemort dismissed Severus back to his duties at Hogwarts leaving him to sit alone in the ruins of the Malfoy ballroom on his throne of ice. The spike’s he created had yet to melt or show any sign that they would despite many months passing. Voldemort found he liked the aesthetic.

Looking down at his hand he flexed it.

While the muggles may fantasize and sensationalize the idea that there was life beyond their planet Magicals knew better. It wasn’t entirely the muggles fault. They would remember the truths behind legend and the stories of visitors from the past had they not been made to forget when the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. Wizards had spent centuries leading muggles to ‘advance’ into believing magicals and extraterrestrials were just silly things of fantasy with perfectly mundane and scientific explanations.

Unfortunately while magicals knew there was life out there in the stars and on other planes they had never been allowed to traverse among them. Those beings which came to their planet didn’t think to lift them up to the stars. From the accounts Voldemort had studied those from beyond viewed earth as a playground at best and as battle field or poaching grounds at worse. Given that they could not travel the stars themselves even the magicals were limited in their knowledge to what was shared with them by visitors and what their seers could perceive through their methods. Given that no one could confirm what they said Voldemort did not trust that the seers of the past had not been lying but with Harriet exploring the stars through her crystal balls he hoped soon she might find answers he could trust.

Given that they knew so little of what species existed beyond their world Voldemort was hesitant to say with certainty but he had a very strong suspicion as to what race’s blood Harriet and through her he carried.

Clenching his first ice formed around it and then out from it into a vicious spike.

Voldemort smiled wickedly.

Frost Giants. A race of beings far superior to the giants of earth with an infinity for magics bound to ice and cold. The Jötunn of Jotunheim may have ultimately been defeated by Odin and his warriors of Asgard but they put up a lengthy fight. Most beings could not hope to fight Asgardians in a battle of brawn but by all reports the Jötunn had fought with nothing but fists and weapons of ice conjured by their magic and will alone. Many an Asgardian and Jötunn alike had died when the two races clashed on the landscape of what was now known as Norway. Had Odin not chosen to bring his forces to put a stop to their campaign the Jötunn would surely have concurred earth even with those of magic opposing them. It was an impressive legacy to carry to be sure.

From all the evidence Voldemort could find Odin had put a ban on interfering in earth’s affairs not long after that war. A ban which most races and governments respected though some individuals, mostly criminals still ventured to earth on their own. Voldemort assumed it was one such individual that had provided Harriet the blessings of her heritage which she had passed on to him.

Rising from his throne Voldemort left the ballroom to head to his chambers. Those Death Eaters he passed along the way bowed and subjugated themselves as they should so he paid them little mind. Once he was locked away in his suite he let his body slip from his giant form to that of a wizard, of John. With a flick of his wand the cold and frost he had brought into the room dissipated leaving Nagini free to eagerly make her way to him. Voldemort reached down to help gather her up as she coiled around him. Unfortunately the time he could spend with his familiar had been limited since his return. In his giant form the cold he radiated from his body both hurt her and compelled her to go away, to find a place to hide and sleep. As ‘John’ he could not at present afford to be seen with any snake let alone her. That left them with only the times he was in his quarters to spent together.

“Mistress sleeps,” Nagini informed him, her tongue gracing his cheek as she pressed her nose along his face. She hissed with pleasure while Voldemort closed his eyes and leaned into the contact. His affection for Nagini had grown since his rebirth with his expanded ability to feel such things. While Harriet was his priority and then himself Nagini came third far beyond all other things.

He reached up to stroke along her scales as he carried her to the bedroom. As it was not where he spent his nights he had transfigured and adapted it to be Nagini’s ideal living space. The only things he kept in the room were the various items he had taken to wearing while presenting himself to his followers. He preferred them intimidated and uncomfortable. As his body alone served well for this he put it on display. He enjoyed the freedom going without typical wizarding attire allowed to him and took advantage of it while he could.

He had not donned robes, shirts, pants, or shoes as himself since his return. He stuck almost exclusively to wraps of fabric he would use to cover his lower half all of which were long enough to reach the floor helping to accentuate his height. In a culture as prudish as the purebloods his lack of dress was scandalous. It better served to differentiated him as ‘other’ to them. At the moment as he was so much smaller than he was as a giant it was only his familiar wrapped around his waist that was keeping the fabric in place as he moved to deliver her to her favorite resting stand.

“The portkey, Nagini,” he requested.

She responded with a discontented hiss but obediently opened her mouth to reveal the portkey that would deliver him where he needed to go. She was never very happy about giving it up as surrendering it meant he would be leaving. While their nightly excursions helped her from becoming too lonely it was not the same as having physical closeness.

“Go keep your mistress company,” he told her, taking the portkey from her mouth and replacing it with his yew wand for Nagini’s safe keeping. Nothing of Voldemort’s went with John and nothing of John went with Voldemort, not even wands. With that taken care of he gently deposited the last of Nagini onto the stand and promised, “I will be along shortly.”

With a nod his familiar settled herself for slumber.

Having let his wrap drop to the floor Voldemort activated the portkey. It delivered him from England to muggle Bergen as naked as a newborn. John’s ebony wand was waiting for him. He hadn’t lied about it being a family heirloom. It was one of the few things the Gaunts had kept hold of over the years though Voldemort suspected they hadn’t realized they had it. He had discovered the hidden wand years ago when placing his ring in their hut. It had not felt right in his hand before but after his resurrection it felt natural that it should be there. It wasn’t yet as in tune with him as his yew wand but that would come with time.

Taking hold of it Volmemort gave a few flicks to begin making sure that his room had not been disturbed since his leaving. Finding all was well he went about retrieving the messenger box he used for exchanging letters with Harriet. The pair was of his own creation and spelled with everything not entirely illegal he knew of. That it was a supposed ‘inherited’ item gave Harriet some protection but with the ministry still out to get her he hadn’t wanted to take risks with anything explicitly outlawed.

Finding a letter waiting for him Voldemort settled himself in the reading chair his accommodations provided. Over all he was pleased with the space though he had not been there long. Suspecting what he did of Harriet’s inheritance he had come to Norway to discreetly seek out stories and artifacts of the Jötunn. After a month of traveling the country he’d ended up in Bergen a few days back in a room with a fine view of the waterfront. John likely wouldn’t stay for more than another day or so but Harriet had enjoyed his descriptions of the scenery and sights as well as the stories he shared from his visit to this city. Unfortunately having to use their boxes limited him greatly in what he could send having made his intended care packages a thing of the past but he did still send along what little things he could.

The latest letter started with Harriet thanking him for the sending the caviar though she confessed to having not cared for it. It had not gone to waste however as Dobby having served it but never had it himself was curious to try the delicacy. He cried when she gifted him the tube. The house elf had apparently very much enjoyed the treat and she asked that John send more so that she could gift it along with the clothes she already intended to give Dobby come Christmas. She also asked that he send more cloudberries as she found herself craving them but had finished off the last of what he sent. It would mean a trip back to a magical district as they were out of season and not commercially grown on the muggle side of things. As he no plans on where he would go next Voldemort felt he might as well go where he could get something that Harriet enjoyed.

She then asked about his evening and dinner and if he would be visiting the aquarium he’d mentioned. He had learned that if it was something she brought up in a letter it was an attraction she herself wished she could go to. With that being the case he would have to go pay it a visit so he could tell her about it. Voldemort could not wait for the day when he could take her her with him and let her see the world. She’d been even more deprived and limited in her experiences then he had himself been at her age. It wasn’t right. For a seer who could look as far as worlds half way across the galaxy she should be able to experience the planet she lived on.

Harriet then responded to his talk about his day and his thoughts and asked her questions all buying time before getting to what she knew he would really want to know. Still finding nothing Harriet had to say unimportant Voldemort read every word.

She told him about her day. The charm she put on her nails which was used by mother’s on their babes and nurses on their patients in the long term care ward to keep people from hurting themselves while scratching had warn off while Harriet was sleeping. She’d woken up in the early morning having made herself bleed again. Despite the risk of being caught she’d given in and used her cloak to sneak off to the Room of Requirement. There she’d fallen asleep supported on a lounge of ice and woken up to find her skin healed.

She used this point of her recounting to transition into the topic she knew mattered to him most, her health and her ‘mysterious’ ailment.

She told him of Snape’s conclusion and confessed to having doubts. She did not believe his diagnosis lined up with what was happening to her. She said that even if Dumbledore thought Snape had the right of it she wasn’t so certain. Among other things she didn’t understand why her cuts would have healed in the ice water if all that was going on was a bleed through of Voldemort’s sensations.

She also had trouble with the explanation given what she’d seen when she looked inside herself. From what she was being told she was being led to believe that the cold landscape was Voldemort and herself as an individual was the golden clouds above and that didn’t feel right to her at all. She was certain everything that was there had been of herself and no one else.

Her readings said that Snape was lying and Harriet trusted her readings which was part of her frustration as her readings also said that Snape was trying to protect her and wanted what was best for her. It had her very confused. The only explanation she could think of was that Dumbledore ordered Snape to give her a false diagnosis or that the Potions Professor had fooled the Headmaster for some reason feeling it safest not to let the truth be known. All the methods of divination she tried wouldn’t give her a straight answer on Snape’s motivation. Not even her kau cim set was forthcoming and it apparently was usually good for this sort of thing.

Luna told Harriet that perhaps deep down there was a part of her that didn’t want to acknowledge the answer and so was hiding it from herself. Trelawney said some fluff about clouded inner eye. Hermione encouraged Harriet to research her own diagnosis if she didn’t trust Snape’s. Harriet wasn’t happy that divination was letting her down again. It was the one reliable thing in her life. ‘Besides you of course,’ she tacked on at the end to reassure him.

Voldemort couldn’t help but to question whether Harriet’s insightfulness in this matter was the result of her impressive intuition or the repressed knowledge from her dreams. Either way he would have to let Severus know he would be working against Harriet’s suspicions to gain the girl’s trust.

The letter then went into detail about the false diagnosis and what would be happening going forward. Harriet was not happy that Dumbledore had been absent that night. She was however pleased to be getting away from Hogwarts for the holidays which would mean getting to see Mr and Mrs Weasley, Remus, and her godfather again. She no longer felt cross with them. Instead she was embarrassed by her behavior and intended to apologize to everyone for how she acted over the summer.

Despite her nerves about the reunion Harriet was hopeful of spending Christmas like a proper family. There was some grieving over the fact that Umbridge was making Hogwarts feel less and less like a home to her but mostly Harriet was excited to make amends and to have so many of the people she cared about in one place. Again Voldemort couldn’t help but wonder how much of those feeling came from her waking experiences and how much came from what she now unconsciously knew.

The Toad it seemed was being her usual deplorable self. While Severus hadn't known or at least hadn't reported the reason for Granger’s detention Harriet did. Her friend had found an error in the text Umbridge was forcing them to read and reread in the name of a Theoretical Defense Education. When Hermione reported the error to the poor excuse of a Defense Professor she lost points for Gryffindor and earned a detention. Umbridge stated the reason for the punishment as being her questioning the authority of the writer. The Toad accused that in doing so Hermione was also questioning her Professor and the Ministry which had selected and approved the text. Granger was made to write out 'I must respect authority' with one of the blood quills Umbridge favored. It was the same line Umbridge gave her every detention.

Harriet and Voldemort both found it ridiculous how well Umbridge picked lines which didn’t suit their intended purpose. Granger had almost too much respect for those she felt deserving of authority. Harriet was one of the few sticking to the truth but was made to write ‘I must not tell lies.’ Diggory was punished with ‘I must stand by what is right’. The rest were must the same. If Voldemort didn’t know better he would think Umbridge was secretly working to encourage the children to stay their course but having had Severus, Lucius, and others feel the woman out he knew her to be exactly as she presented herself to be. Umbridge was to Fudge as Bellatrix was to him. Though she was decidedly less competent then his Death Eater. Voldemort suspected they were matched in their sadistic nature.

Harriet’s letter finished with her wishing him well and sending him love.

Retrieving a quill and some of the custom stationary Voldemort ordered specifically for these correspondences he set about writing his own reply so Harriet would have it for the morning. Once that was seen to he made his way to bed adding extra protections as he went to the room and specifically his resting space. With his head on his pillow and the sheets covering his form Voldemort set his mind on his connection to Harriet.

Upon falling asleep his consciousness woke in the mindscape he had created for himself and Harriet to meet. The cabin was homey yet minimal and open with the communal space leading to the kitchen through a large open archway. Harriet and Nagini both were already there when he arrived. Harriet lay on the couch sleeping with his loyal familiar draped over her. Nagini raised her head to look at him but said nothing as to not wake her mistress. It looked as though Harriet was in the middle of a normal dream. It would be best to let it play to an end where she would her come to this space naturally rather than forcing it. In the meantime there was something Voldemort had wanted to test for some time but had held back from acting on.

Making his way around the couch he stroked Nagini. With a gentle nudge he encouraged his familiar to move off Harriet and onto the back of the couch.

Crouching down at Harriet’s head Voldemort studied her face. She wasn’t beautiful or pretty. At the moment she was lost to an awkward phase of puberty but he could see she how she might grow to be truly enchanting. Enchanting was far superior to beautiful Voldemort’s opinion. Beauty after all was about how well one fit into the mold of what was considered attractive by the culture at present time. He felt Harriet’s appeal would be timeless as it would be unique to her. She just needed time to grow into herself.

As Voldemort transitioned out of his human form Nagini moved further back from him and the cold that radiated from his blue skin while even sleeping Harriet was drawn closer. Encouraged Voldemort reached out cautiously to place just the tip of his littlest finger on the back of Harriet’s hand. He was ready to pull it back at the first sign of pain or the damage his touch typically elicited in others. Instead of the skin ruining under his touch it began to transform to match his own blue hue.

Feeling emboldened Voldemort allowed his other fingertips to touch down against her arm. He smiled as new patches of blue formed and the transformation spread out from them. Lifting his other hand he cupped it to her cheek. Harriet was just blinking awake when the transition reached her eyes allowing Voldemort the pleasure of watching green and white turn to red.

“Good evening Harriet,” he welcomed her.

She answered with a smile.

Chapter Text

Harriet was wonderfully, deliciously cold and there was very little to distract her from it.  Luxuriating she stretched herself out more fully on the soft snow that covered the ground.  She was used to enjoy snow in this way whenever it came.  Since first year her friends joked and marveled over Harriet’s devotion to snow.  The deep coverings that transformed Hogwarts grounds were a dream to her.  Harriet was forever trying to drag her friends outs for walks or play or even studying when there was snow.  If they agreed they never stayed out for as long as she would like. 

No one ever wanted to stay out in the cold as long as Harriet did.

Her first Christmas at Hogwarts Harriet, the Weasleys and some of the other children spent the whole day building things out of snow, having snowball fights, and just… having fun.  Harriet marveled at the wonders of magic as she watched the older students spelling snowman to bring them to life or using their magic to create amazing creations that no one could have replicated out of snow by mundane means.  After being inspired by those creations she’d recruited the Weasleys to help her form a giant mountain of snow with which to make a fort.  In its design the end result looked like something she might have seen on a playground.  With slides formed into and out the sides, the top was formed like a castle turret, and the inside was hollowed out to create crawling spaces with little portholes to look out from and launch snowballs at the unsuspecting.  Looking back it was rather terrifying that the twins had pelted Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's head.  He could have ordered their deaths.  That they got away with it made it equally hilarious to distressing.

Harriet could have stayed there until spring came and melted the snow away.  As long as someone brought her food she’d have been alright.  She would have moved her things outside and slept there every night if they would have let her.  She daydreamed about doing just that for months after but especially over the summer when she was trapped with the Dursleys.  At the end of the day it had taken Percy to wrangle her inside

She’d been petulant all through dinner about being forced in while the others rejoiced to finally being somewhere warm.  Taking a break from stuffing himself after his long day of running about, Ron looked to the side to take in Harriet as she sulked.  As she continued to poke at her food he shook his head.

“Mad you are,” he had proclaimed with fondness.

Apparently not so mad it turned out.  Just very different.

During Snape’s examination Hermione had brought up Harriet’s love of cold predating her recent symptoms.  Knowing this Snape had expanded his line of questioning.  For years people thought Harriet was using spells to keep herself warm and dry when they would go out into the snow but Harriet did no such thing.  It turned out that with normal people their body heat would melt the snow they came into contact with leaving their clothes wet and cooling them faster.  That had never been the case for Harriet.  She’d never experienced a cold that was unpleasant.  Nothing had yet in her life been too cold for her.  If anything most things never felt cold enough.

Since finding out just how different this was to other people Harriet hadn’t been willing to head outside to enjoy the snow.  But in a dream, away from reality, caring about what was normal and what was not wasn’t a concerned of hers.  With no idea she was dreaming Harriet was free to simply enjoy the cold and the snow which was covering the ground as far as the eye could see and pilling up with every hour as more fell down from the sky. 

And what a pretty sky it was.  Harriet just felt it could benefit to a bit more variety.  It was an endless expanse of golden overcast decorated with glittering rainbow particles that floated down to become her wonderful precious snow.  At first it had been enthralling to look up at something so beautiful and other worldly but after studying it for as long as she had the novelty was faded.  The view had become monotonous.

Reaching up Harriet tried to entertain herself with catching snowflakes.  Having spotted a particularly large one she aimed for it but as the tip of her finger grazed the ice crystal the shape began to change.  Whatever the snowflake was becoming was thin and long and incorporeal.  Though Harriet couldn’t see whatever it was she could still feel it as the strand of magical energy moved and twisted between her fingers before passing through her hand.  Once it was clear on the other side it returned to its snowflake form.  Harriet tracked it as it fell away with a resentful frown.  Reaching out she tried to catch it again only for it to play the same trick.  This time she let it escape until she lost track of it among the trillions of others of its kind which were forming the wintery landscape.

Bothered now as well as bored Harriet propped herself up in the snow.  She wished her friends were there to play like they did at Hogwarts but she was alone.  Seeing all the wide open space around her Harriet decided she would go for a run.  Lately she found her body very eager to exercise and move.  Swimming at the Room of Requirement helped as did having to traverse a giant castle to get where ever she wanted to go.  Snape said something about her growth spurts and musculature development but she couldn’t remember it clearly.  Given that he’d mostly been talking to himself at the time she didn’t feel badly about not remembering.

Wiggling her toes against the snow her legs were suddenly very much in agreement for this idea of hers.  They wanted Harriet to run and she wanted to cure her boredom so run she did.

She’d been going for some time when she saw the first sign of something other than herself in this place.  Up ahead were twinkling specs of gold clustered out on the horizon.  With no other destination in mind Harriet carried on ahead to investigate.

When she came close enough Harriet realized it was a graveyard and slowed her approach to a more respectful walk.  She didn’t know where she learned you shouldn’t run in graveyards but it seemed clear to her that it wasn’t the done thing.  If you asked Harriet how she even knew the place was a graveyard she wouldn’t have been able to tell you.  In the logic of dreams it was just obvious even though there was no sign declaring it so and the look was like that of no graveyard she had seen before.

Rather than the dreary gray stone Harriet was used to associating with such places everything was gold and glittering with accents done in colorful precious stones spanning the spectrum of the rainbow.  It matched rather well with the sky she thought as she came closer.  She wondered if it was a happy coincide or if gold had been chosen because of the location.  Looking up at the glittering cloud cover above she wondered if maybe it was the other way around and the location had been chosen to match the vision of those claiming the plot for their burial grounds.  Whatever the reason the graveyard full of gold and rainbow was a beautiful sight as were the grave markers themselves which rather than tombstones were large ornate bases holding statues of individuals on top. 

Harriet assumed this was wizards’ work.  Wizards trusted tradition and history to be valued even if it wasn’t always properly preserved.  If that value proved too tempting they trusted in curses and jinxes to protect their legacies.  Muggles had limited means to protect against collectors and thieves stripping down their monuments and making off with their treasures once they weren’t around to ensure such protection themselves.

There were two statues which stood at the entrance to the graveyard set ahead of the others marking the start of the path.  To one side stood a man who towered at over ten feet of height and across from him was a woman who stood at only seven foot of height.  The man was done in extreme detail with every line and wrinkle of his kindly face and every kink in his wild hair on display.  The woman’s features were less clear, more soft and stylistic in their representation of her, almost like time and exposure had warn the details away. 

Harriet recognized their style of dress from some of the portraits of Hogwarts.  She felt this confirmed her theory regarding this being a place of magic was correct as they were dressed in the old wizarding style.  It was the hats that gave them away.  Wizarding fashion was slow to transition when it came to robes and things but the fashion of hats and accessories changed often.  During the time Neville’s grandfather bought Augusta’s Vulture hat for her it was the height of fashion.  Now most looked down on it as dated or bizarre.  Large hats were out of style but details and flash were coming back in, just so long as they were small and modest. 

After hearing Parvati and Lavender discuss wizarding headdress history ad nauseam Harriet had it ingrained in her memory whether she felt it was something worth knowing or not.  She also knew what style your hair should be in to go in which hat and the recommended jewelry to go along with your hat, hair, and face.  Most of the time Harriet tried not to pay it any mind but then she would remember all the occasions her Aunt and others had looked down on her for her appearance.  When she did she’d find herself setting back her dangling necklace for a choker or forgoing her yellow eyeshadow even if she originally felt it went well with her Quidditch robes.

Setting those thoughts aside Harriet distracted herself by examining the ornate bases on which the two statues stood.  She was expecting to find them as different in style as their occupants but instead she found them to be identical.  Full of scrolling and faceted precious gems they were a sign not just of wealth but also thought and craftsmanship.  While examining Harriet noticed there was a plaque, a smooth bit of surface among the carvings where some writing was on display.  Leaving the path she stood in front of the base to see what it had to say about the man the statue memorialized.  The epitaph read,

Linfred of Stinchcombe

Founder of the House of Potter
Loyal Husband, Inspiring Father,
and Accomplished Master Potioneer

Knowing who it represented Harriet looked back up at the statue with a new appreciation only to discover it had moved and was still moving in fact.  With all the detail put into his statue ‘Linfred' was looking very much alive.  While his impressive height was intimidating his smile was amused as he looked down on Harriet who took a breath to overcome the after effects of her alarm.  When she sparred a glance Harriet found that the woman across the path was moving as well, leaning forward to watch Harriet with a curious look.

Wizarding world, Harriet reminded herself giving the woman a wave which was returned with a smile.  Portraits talked, the subjects of photographs could walk out of frame, and statues could look like living breathing things if enough work went into it.  Thinking about it Harriet didn’t find it very surprising that they would have animated their graveyards as well. 

“Excuse me,” she told Linfred wanting to go see if the woman had a plaque of her own.  The statue smiled back at her as she went showing there were no hard feelings.

“Hello,” she greeted the woman awkwardly as she made her way across the path.  Harriet received a bow in return which she mirrored before reading the woman’s plaque.  This was Linfred’s wife and mother of his seven sons which formed the seven branches of the House of Potter.  These were the founders of her family.  Both of which were gesturing to welcome her along into the graveyard.  Though he could not speak Linfred’s grandfatherly face seemed to be saying, ‘Go on.’

Curious and seeing nowhere else worth going to Harriet decided to comply. 

“Goodbye,” Harriet told the figures.  She bowed to each before returning to the path and journeying on.

As she made her way through the graveyard she saw all manor of people each portrayed in living gold.  Most greeted Harriet in their limited way while others merely watched.  A few outright ignored her.  The further along the path she went Harriet could see time passing through the styles of dress.  She got into a habit of checking plaques.  Every last one identified the statues as Potters or a person connected to a Potter in some way.  Through her investigations Harriet realized that those closest to the main path were members of her line.  Those who were further out were her more distant relatives.  Looking off in either direction showed her just how extensive her House was.  Or had been.

After a time the graveyard began to slope downward with the statues laid out forming into a wedge as the British Potter line became progressively thinner with each passing generation.  From her spot still at the crest of the hill Harriet followed the path with her eyes to see where it led.  The mystery was solved when she spotted a pair of antlers in the distance at the end of the graveyard.

With her heart clenching and her thoughts on what waited for her Harriet continued down the path paying little attention to the statues around her.  She did consider stopping to pay her respects at the representations of her grandparents but when her tread began to slow they both were quick to encouraged her on to her parents. 

Feeling self-conscious Harriet fussed with her hair and dusted down her clothes as she took the last steps she needed to stand before her mother and father.

She’d spent years imagining what her parents might look like.  With only her Aunt and herself for reference their appearance never stayed the same.  It always changed based on what Harriet would want from parents at the time.  They grew in height when she wanted a defender.  They grew younger when she wanted someone to play with.  They were always different but Harriet liked that.  Her Aunt and Uncle had told her and she believed that her parents were drunks who had gotten themselves killed.  She spent her childhood happy to imagine them as she liked rather than how they might have been.  Then Hagrid came and with him he brought stories of the brave amazing Lily and James Potter. 

By Hagrid accounts her father was a mischievous but charming scamp who had given Harriet her messy hair.  Her mother was smart and social and had given Harriet her eyes.  After learning the truth about her parents Harriet didn’t want to go on imagining.  She wanted to know what they actually looked like.  The Mirror of Erised gave her that.  When Dumbledore informed her she had to give it up, walking away was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.  But then the end of the year came and Hagrid gave her a present that was only bested by his first. 

With an album full of photos Harriet could look at her parents whenever she wanted.

When Harriet first looked at the pictures of her parents together she was reminded of something she’d heard one of the neighbors tell Aunt Petunia once.  ‘Such a handsome couple.’  Harriet thought her father was handsome but her mother?  Her mother was beautiful in those pictures and Harriet would not hear otherwise.  But as good as they looked in that album, immortalized in gold they were both stunning. 

Her father was presented with red accents.  Harriet knew both he and Sirius would approve as it made him looked very Gryffindor in his gold and red visage.  Very Gryffindor.  Very tall.  Very proud as he smiled down on her.  Behind his golden vestige stood an equally golden stag representing both his patronus and animagus form.  Harriet smiled at the stag happily as it blinked and flicked its ear at her.  By all accounts her father had been as much Prongs as James.  It seemed right to her that this be here representing him.

Examining the base on which they stood Harriet didn’t find much of interest.  Just a view of a rather sparse tree line.  With nothing more to hold her attention Harriet moved on to his plaque to see what it had to say about her father.

James Potter
Son of Fleamont and Euphemia
Husband of Lily Evans
Dada of Harriet

Prongs of the Marauders
Proud Member of The Order Of The Phoenix
Loyal Friend, Forgiving Husband,
Grateful Father

Born 27 March 1960
Died 31 October 1981

Harriet frowned not understanding what some of that was referring to.  Grateful Father she could understand with the trouble her grandparents had conceiving but ‘Forgiving Husband?’  By all accounts Harriet heard her father pursued her mother and been lucky she let him catch her.  What did her mother have to be forgiven for that was so important it was included in her father’s epitaph?

Harriet was distracted from considering the matter further by the appearance of five animals that had come running through the trees around the corner of the base.  There in front of her were representations of Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, her mother’s doe, and with them all a little fawn.  Tears came to Harriets eyes at the sight of them.  As the makeshift family moved closer she reached out to trace a finger over the fragile fawn.  In return the young deer pushed at her finger.  Harriet tried moving her hand away and the fawn followed after.  The others in the group simply watched while the stag came forward to gently nudge the fawn away from exploring her finger. 

As Prongs herded the fawn back to the group Harriet couldn’t help but wonder if her father would be proud of the woman she was growing into.  How would he have felt about her not being a perfect blend of himself and her mother?  About her not being the little fawn he’d expected?

Surprising Harriet a cold hand was pressed to her cheek making her look up with a start.  Her father was crouched down on his base.  With as much gentleness as Prongs had used with his fawn her father wiped her tears away which only made Harriet cry harder.  Giving into her grief Harriet let the weight of her head rest in his hand.  Closing her eyes she took a minute to wallow in her grief and doubts.

Her minute was over when her father took his hand away to again wipe her tears.  Opening her eyes Harriet watched him as he studied her face while cleaning her up.  When he was done he met her eyes and playfully bopped her with the slightest of taps on the chin to turn her head towards her mother.  With hands on her shoulders he turned the rest of her to face that way as well before giving her an encouraging push.  Sending him a grateful smile Harriet followed his obvious request.  Her smile turned a little shaky as she took in her mother’s welcoming but undeniably sad expression.  The doe which laid curved beside her did not seem as effected.  Just as the stag had done the golden doe watched her curiously while blinking and flicking her ears.

Where her father had been representing Gryffindor’s colors, her mother was represented with green rather than red accents.  Her wedding band was done in solid emerald while her robes were decorated with a mixed collection of precious stones.  Her eyes though, her eyes were made of jade.  Ever since she’d got to Hogwarts Harriet had been told she had her mother’s eyes but this statue didn’t have their eyes.  These eyes were flat and dead no matter the illusion of emotion and life the rest of the statue provided.  The eyes made it clear.   It saddened Harriet to be reminded that no matter how good the illusion her parents weren’t actually with her because they were dead.  What was in front of her were merely monuments to their memory, the lives they lived, and the deaths that brought those lives to an early end.

Looking to escape the reality the statue presented Harriet read her mother’s plaque.

Lily Potter née Evans
Born 30 January 1960
Daughter of Clive and Ivy Evans
Wife of James Potter
Devoted Mother of Harriet Potter
Defier of Voldemort
Proud Muggle-born, Stubborn Friend
Pining Sister, Grateful Wife
Died At The Age Of 21
31, October 1981

Another unhappy reminder.  Her parents had been so young when they were killed.  Harriet frankly couldn’t imagine it.  They were only six years older than her at the time.  They’d done so much in the time they lived but there had been so much more they never got to experience.

As upsetting as it all was Harriet’s confusion was serving well to distract her from it. 

Her mother’s epitaph brought up more questions for her than her father’s.  Unwilling to look back at the statue just yet but unwilling to move on Harriet decided to hope for answers on her mother’s base which was decorated with tiles depicting different scenes.  On closer examination Harriet realized they were snapshots of her mother’s life.  Like Wizarding photos but done as reliefs.

The row above the plaque showed her mother… being a mother.  The first tile showed her heavily pregnant and reading to her large stomach as she rocked in a chair.  The next showed her holding a still freshly born and wrinkled Harriet.  The one directly above the plaque was of her mother smiling and laughing at something baby Harriet was doing.  After that were Harriet’s first steps.  The last of the top row showed Lily reading to Harriet as she rocked them both in a chair.  Knowing how little time Lily had gotten to be her mother the images were both touching and heartbreaking for Harriet to see.  The next tile she looked down on didn’t make her feel any better.

Directly under the plaque was her mother’s death scene put on display.  As the memory of that event was bad enough without being face to face with it Harriet moved along quickly.  Off to the left were two tiles showing her mother’s life before Hogwarts.  Directly next to her death was the image of a young Lily and young Petunia playing.  On the edge was the entire family together opening presents in front of a Christmas tree.  Scanning back Harriet looked to see what the last two tiles had to show.  To the other side of her mother’s death Harriet saw her mother getting her wand.  Behind her stood her family a long with a pleased looking Professor McGonagall.  The next tile over seemed just as happy a moment.  Centered in the frame her mother was bottling a potion looking very proud of herself.  Besides her a man, presumably her Potions Professor had a hand on her shoulder and was smiling wide while examining one of the vials.  Besides her at the work station was  a boy bottling his own potion.  His head was tilted down but Harriet could make out a hint of a smile.

Something about the boy seemed familiar.  Tilting her head to the side Harriet tried to place him but she couldn’t.  She thought maybe if she got a better look at him it would fix the problem.  Given that the tiles seemed to be grouped she thought maybe their was a chance she could find something more with him if she followed the base along to the right.  Harriet moved in a wide circle around to the next side hoping for a glimpse of the bigger picture. 

She never did see what the other side had to show.  She became distracted by the sight of the statue that lay beyond that of her parents.  Harriet hadn’t considered there being anything after them.  The path ended just before their statue.  Given the nature of the graveyard and what she’d figured out of the layout she didn’t think there was anyone else to see, but that wasn’t the case.  Forming the point of the wedge in this graveyard of Potters, surrounded by pristine snow lay a golden base with a statue standing atop it.

Moving slowly Harriet made her way to face the likeness of herself. 

However it wasn’t just her depicted on that base.  There both as her familiar and patronus was Hedwig.  Carved from a single block of white and black marble she’d been depicted with her eyes shut while she perched securely on the statues arm.  Her statue which wasn’t like any of the others Harriet had seen in the graveyard.  Only adorned in gold accents rather than being made of the animated metal, her statue stood perfectly lifeless in crystal clear form.  Reaching out Harriet hesitantly touched the statue’s surface to see if it was made of what she suspected it to be.  Her suspicions were confirmed.

In this graveyard of golden figures her existence was personified by a cold unmoving statue made of ice.

Not certain what she should feel about that Harriet looked down to examine the base to see what it might have to say about her.  There were no great revelations to be had from what she saw but she liked the scene nonetheless.  Covering the surface were depictions of animals, creatures, and beings alike all standing together on equal footing.  Harriet felt it was a much better image than that disgusting awful fountain the ministry had. 

Feeling nervous Harriet moved to examine her plaque only to find it blank.  While a little anticlimactic and not very enlightening, Harriet felt relieved.  She had feared what she might discover.  She may have enjoyed being a seer but she rather liked to go on believing that her fate was as of yet undecided if some things had already been set in stone it would make it feel like she had no agency over her life. But what would be most important to her legacy was not yet clear.  She hoped when her life was over and all possibilities were closed to her there would be something to appear on her epitaph about her friends and the people she cared about.  Beyond that she could honestly say she didn’t know yet what she wanted out of her life. 

She was a seer with no insight into her own future.  The irony was not lost on her.

Harriet’s friends all had some idea what they wanted.  Most people seemed to have at least a dream, but not her. 

Hermione wanted to bring the Wizarding world into the modern age, getting ride of the archaic and barbaric practices they both abhorred. 

Neville wanted to study plants of all kinds and to see some of the wonders he’d read about in his herbology journals as well as an almost equal ambition to grow into a wizard his Grandmother was proud of. 

Luna wanted to study magical creatures and write for the Quibbler. 

Ron wanted to be an auror. 

Ginny wanted to play quidditch professionally. 

The Twins wanted their shop. 

At the moment Seamus wanted the twins to teach him how to make their fireworks even with everyone begging him to keep a wide birth.  A simply ambition but at least it was a goal.  Harriet only knew she wanted to never feel the need to scratch again while spending her days with the people she loved in security and happiness.  She felt no calling towards any vocation or resonance with the life paths that were available to her.  Not professionally or personally.  She knew she wanted a family but she didn’t know how she felt about having kids herself.  Mrs Weasley insisted Harriet was just a late bloomer, that it would come with time and the right partner but she wasn’t certain of that.

Looking up at her statue Harriet took in her likeness but from that angle she could not see much of herself in it.  The transparency made her features unfamiliar to her.  What she did recognize of herself in it was the hair.  The hair was most realistic thing about the statue.  The fine gold strands looked and were styled exactly like her own if not for being made of metal.  They even moved in the breeze the same as the curls were doing atop her head.  As she watched one of the strands that was blowing detached from the statue.  It traveled along through the air on a path that would take it just past Harriet.  She couldn’t help thinking of a snitch with the way the gold flashed in the light as it flew along. 

On an impulse she snatched the strand out of the air but when she brought it closer to examine it the hair was gone.  In its place was an intangible thread exactly like the snowflake she had caught earlier.  When the breeze carried it off from her open palm, the strand transformed back to its original form but only once it was not in contact with her.  Not understanding and frustrated because of it Harriet glared at it as it traveled along its path until it came within reach of her father’s statue and was promptly plucked out of the air.  In his hand it remained gold and tangible as he held it up, displaying it to her mother with pride.  The smile he gave her said, ‘Look what I’ve done.  Aren’t you impressed.’

Harriet couldn’t help but to smile at the display.  These may not have been her parents but it was as close as she’d ever get to seeing for herself what they might have been like together… and with her.  They may not have been real but Harriet could allow herself hope they were realistic.  So she let herself watch and enjoy while her mother closed her eyes and shook her head at her father’s antics.  Despite what she might want to show the curving at the corner of her lips betrayed her amusement.  When she opened her eyes again they were focused on Harriet not her husband.  James rolled his eyes at his wife and turned to Harriet as well.  With a shrug his expression seemed to say, ‘What can you do?’

Not so well skilled at hiding her emotions as her mother Harriet brought a hand up to hide the smile she couldn’t hold back.

Seeming pleased with Harriet’s reaction the statue turned to be in profile to her before bringing the gold strand up to his lips and blowing it off like a wish.  Harriet was so focused on him that she missed the glittering gold fading again.  This time it never did transition back.  That little thread faded from Harriet’s mind to travel down into her soul and from there on into the hands of The Fates.  It was the first blessing Harriet had ever gifted to herself brought about from an orphans believing that if her father was in an afterlife of some kind he would be wishing good things for his little owlet.

Whispers caught Harriet’s attention.  It started out so faint that she thought she might be imagining it but the more she focused on the whispers the clearer they became.

Around her the dream died away as she was pulled to wakefulness.

Scrubbing at her eyes Harriet looked groggily at Hermione and Neville who were standing in the doorway of the train compartment having a whispered conversation with Luna.

Chapter Text

Shutting her eyes Harriet tried to block out the world of the waking to keep her thoughts anchored to the world she’d just left.

She hadn’t been in her inner mindscape but it had been modeled after it. She remembered because of the sky and the cold and the landscape. She’d been enjoying the snow when there was something about a snowflake? She’d gone to touch it and…. And the memory was already fading.

While keeping her eyes closed she rushed to pull out her dream journal. Harriet found her bookmark and opened to the next blank page. It was only once she was ready to write that she opened her eyes so they looked directly onto the page and let them focus on nothing else. She got to work writing as much as she could remember of her dream which was depressingly little. Already it felt more like a story she’d been told than something she’d experienced for herself.

The harder she tried to remember the more frustrated Harriet became with how little she could recall. As her frustration mounted the itch on the tip of her nose spread out over the bridge. When she reached her parents graves but couldn’t remember where they had been located in the graveyard it spread even further to cover her cheeks and forehead. When she couldn’t remember if there had been a doe with her mother as there had been a stag with her father it moved out over to cover her scalp. Harriet refused to scratch. She would focus on recording what little she could. Every detail she could scrounge up would be written down until it all faded entirely.

“Oh sorry Harriet, did we wake you,” Hermione asked guiltily.

It was only for a second but in that second Harriet’s attention was not on remembering her dream. She looked up just long enough to see Neville elbow Hermione with a reproachful look before holding his finger to his lips in a reminder to leave Harriet alone until she was done.

Hermione rolled her eyes but obligingly kept her peace.

Smiling in amusement at her friends Harriet looked back down at her journal and her smile fell right off her face. She stared down at her journal and couldn’t even remember what she’d been writing about and why. She looked back at the last line she’d written. Ice me with Hedwig… what on earth did that mean?

Reaching up Harriet was about to scratch at her face but stopped when instead of seeing her hand as she expected she saw something large and brown. She felt foolish when she realized it was her hand, only her hand in a glove. She’d never worn gloves before as she didn’t need them to keep warm but this pair wasn’t for keeping her warm. This pair were enchanted to help keep her cool. Snape had gotten them for her and prescribed her to wear them at all times outside of classes and when Umbridge might see them.

While the cooling charm placed on the lining only mildly helped with her problem, the sight and foreign feel of soft leather had been doing its job in helping to deter Harriet from absently giving in to the desire to scratch.

Sighing Harriet dropped her hand and focused on bookmarking her journal for the next time before putting it away. From the neck up she was a patchwork of itchy parts with some milder irritation coming from the places where the cooling charms on her clothes were helping.

What she wouldn’t give to use that freezing curse. But, she’d made a promise and she intended to keep it.

With her journal out of sight Hermione asked, “All finished?”

“All done,” Harriet unhappily admitted before trying to shake off her melancholy. With Luna going on a trip with her father, Hermione off as well with her parents, and Neville spending Christmas with his Grandmother and many undesirable relatives, this would be the last Harriet saw of her friends until the holiday was over. Given this was the all they would see of each other for some time Harriet didn’t want to bring it down by being in a tude. So putting on a smile she asked, “Are you two just heading out for your rounds?”

It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone when Hermione had been named one of Gryffindor’s fifth year Perfects and not much of a surprise to most when Neville received the other spot. Ron did have a chip on his shoulder about it for a time though. It wasn’t that he thought Neville didn’t deserved it. He was simply sore about not being seen as good enough. Once he saw just how much Neville was expected to do the resentment vanished as Ron reveled in his lack of responsibilities.

“We’re heading back out again actually. We were just checking in on you before we left,” Neville explained.

Harriet’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But.” Last she remembered they’d only just gotten back from their Perfects’ meeting. The trolley lady hadn’t even been by.

A loud bang sounded from down the train and the carriage gave a little rattle.

Harriet drew her wand fearing it was another attack like the dementors in third year.

“What on earth is it now,” Hermione demanded. She started to lean her head out into the corridor to investigate but quickly was forced to abort. She reared back into the compartment as one of the twin’s fireworks in the form of about a dozen pixies whizzed past.

Harriet sighed settling back into her seat but Hermione was not so relieved. Her face was pinched, her hair puffed up, and her hand flexed around her wand. With a fierceness that would have been concerning if it was anyone else saying the words, Hermione declared, “I’m going to murder the twins,” before stalking off down the hall.

After a moment Harriet could clearly hear her yelling, “What do you think you're doing,” with an emphasis on the do. After that the words became unclear but the tone and who was speaking was very much still recognizable.

Poor Neville was wincing.

At Harriet’s questioning look he explained, “The twins all but sold out of their stock the first hour we were on board. Now that we’re out from Umbridge’s thumb people were eager to buy and indulge themselves. What money they didn’t save for sweets they handed over for prank goods. Once they were out of their normal stock Fred and George decided to start selling their experimental products at a discount in exchange for feedback. With everyone blowing off steam it has made plenty of work for us. Even the older years who are use to Perfect duties seem overwhelmed.”

Down the train there was another loud bang.

“I’m sure George and Fred are thrilled,” Harriet said smirking out at the corridor.

With a resigned sigh Neville agreed. “They are absolutely thrilled and that’s only making Hermione more riled.”

He looked out nervously at the corridor. “I’ll see you later. I’m not sure we’ll make it back before we get to the station. We’ll find you on the platform,” he called as he left moving to assist Hermione, or save someone from her. Harriet could see it going either way.

Processing what he’d just said Harriet turned to Luna. “Is it really that late?”

“You were asleep for several hours,” Luna explained. “You haven’t missed much. Once Hermione and Neville left for rounds Ron got bored. People from the D.A. have been stopping by but when they saw you were asleep they didn’t stay. They’ve claimed all the carriages around us. I think they were feeling protective knowing you couldn’t defend yourself.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. She was sure that they had all stayed to be around each other and socialize. Luna was the one who stayed to protect her and was likely projecting. For someone so intuitive sometimes Luna could be very disconnected in her understanding of others.

“Ron went off with the first who stopped by. He took food with him. It seemed a good idea so I’ve been sharing with everyone who comes by,” Luna said gesturing to the picnic basket besides her, “but we haven’t made much of a dent I’m afraid.”

Getting up Harriet made her way over to see what all was left.

The picnic basket had been supplied to them on Snape’s orders. He’d given this order to Dobby to fill as he trusted the elf to insure Harriet wasn’t given anything tainted. True to form Dobby had gone above and beyond, packing them a veritable feast. Along with the basket Snape had sent a note telling Harriet she was not to indulge off the trolley. She was only to eat ‘proper’ food which they could trust had not been tampered with.

On the top of the selection on offer Harriet found a tin of treacle tart. She very dearly wanted it but Snape advised her to limit her sugar intake. A part of her wanted to think he was just trying to make her life a little more miserable but his explanations as to why he wanted Harriet to avoid sugar and breads and some other things until they knew how they would effect her system seemed reasonable. And he wasn’t banning anything besides trolley goods. He just wanted her to limit herself. Knowing Mrs Weasley would be stuffing them all for the holidays Harriet reluctantly returned the treacle to the picnic basket and reached instead for a container of roasted vegetables.

Grabbing herself a fork she tried very hard to ignore the itch which for the moment was focused on the back of her skull, her right eyelid, and upper lip.

There was a flash of magic besides her as Luna cast a spell her way.

Harriet shivered in pleasure as wonderful perfect bone chilling cold consumed her from the outside in. She reveled in the relief for a moment before sending Luna a reproachful look. “I promised I wouldn’t use that curse any longer.”

Luna tucked her wand back behind her ear while blinking at Harriet vacantly like she didn’t understand why her friend was displeased but Harriet wasn’t fooled by the act of obliviousness.

“You didn’t use it. I did,” Luna excused like it was that simple.

Harriet kept staring Luna down with a hard look.

“There’s no point in you suffering when you don’t have to. Things will be bad enough over your Christmas break with Professor Snape’s tutoring you and Padfoots reaction to having him around. You should have peace while you can.”

Harriet frowned. Staring off into space she let herself imagine it. “Padfoot’s going to kick up such a fuss,” she admitted dismally. “Hopefully Dumbledore’s already told him and he’ll be through the worse of it by now. If not…”

Harriet suddenly had the image of Sirius, cursed with a dog’s tail and ears, getting his revenge on Snape with a bat-bogey hex. Given how immature the two could be, especially about each other, she really wouldn’t be surprised. Sirius in particular embarrassed himself greatly whenever Snape was around with how hard he clung on to their boyhood insults. They were as bad as Ron and Draco. She was a little scared that Mrs Weasley was right that boys never did grow up. John seemed past such things so there surely there was some hope for the rest. At least Neville she felt was already on his way to growing up even if the others were still lagging behind.

“Shall we try figuring out what your dream was about,” Luna offered.

Tired and grateful Harriet smiled at her. “You’re my favorite, you know that.”

Luna smiled back at her but corrected, “After John but that’s all right. Daddy’s my favorite so you're my second as well. Being best friends is more than enough.”

Harriet’s smile only grew. “Best of friends,” she agreed pulling out her dream journal so they could try to make some sense of it. She didn’t have much hope though. Usually you needed every word of a riddle if you were going to wind up at the right answer. With how much Harriet had failed to write down there had to be much they were missing.

Oneiromancy, the method of interpreting dreams. When they started studying it in Divination the others had fallen somewhere between bored or intrigued by the unit.

For someone like Ron who wasn’t a seer and -despite according to the other boys, being a sleep talker- barely remembered anything he dreamed, having to keep a journal and make any kind of meaningful interpretation of his entries was a chore. It wasn’t long before he was simply making up his dreams. The only time he asked Harriet to do the interpretations for him she’d agreed as it was good practice. She hadn’t however given Ron her actual interpretations to hand in. Instead she’d given him a rather embarrassing bit of falsehood which Trelawney brought up in class when reviewing their assignments. It had been a productive exercise all around. Harriet got to interpret some dreams, Ron forever learned the importance of doing his own work, and they were all reminded to read what was handed to you instead of taking someone’s word for it.

For Harriet studying oneiromancy was a revelation. All her childhood she had been plagued with experiences of déjà vu. Little Harriet would always be getting the feeling that something had already happened or that she’d done all this before.

All her life she’d been assigning ‘reasonable’ explanations as to how she might have dreamed things ahead of time like finding out Mrs Figg had broken her leg, all the Durlseys catching a cold, or what her new teacher would look like all ahead of schedule. Harriet assumed it was normal to dream about living the next day before waking up to live it. The night Hagrid arrived to deliver her Hogwarts letter she had the sense that she already knew him. Despite his intimidating size and the nature of his arrival, the first time she looked at Hagrid she new he was a friend. When Hagrid told her he was the one to deliver her to the Dursleys she’d assumed that was her answer.

It had taken studying dreams and specifically seers dreams for Harriet to realize that her experiences were different to others. When you live your whole life with things one way and have no mirror to compare it to others, you just assume your normal is everyone else’s. Or, at least Harriet had.

Once she started keeping her dream journal Harriet became religious in sticking to it in the hopes of figuring out the patterns and ways that her sight influenced her dreams, how truth blended with fiction and symbolism then how to separate the parts. Eventually she figured out the formula but to do it she needed to remember all the elements of her dreams. That had never been a problem in the past. She used to fill out at least one journal a month with each usually lasting about three weeks. Her memories of her dreams had always been as clear as her memories of her waking hours which is why as a child with the prophetic nature of her dreams she was sometimes left very confused between reality and the makings of her mind. It had gotten her in extra trouble with the Dursleys that she didn’t need but in time Harriet learned to tell the difference and keep it clear in her head.

The first time she had any trouble was over the summer before fourth year with her dreams about the happenings around Voldemort. Her memories from those dreams always felt different to her other experiences. She realized later that this was because she wasn’t herself there. She was observing the world through Nagini’s perspective. As a snake she didn’t look at or take in her surroundings in the same way Harriet did. Understanding that made it clear what she was dealing with wasn’t of the same vein to her normal dreams. Even still, while those dreams had been different she had no problem remembering them.

After Voldemort’s resurrection the dreams with Nagini ceased. Harriet had a summer full of sleep where she dreamed as she normally would. Then school started up again. For months she hadn’t realized anything was off. It was Professor Trelawney asking her whether her dreams had given any insight into Umbridge that had been the first domino towards Harriet realizing something had changed.

When she was asked Harriet couldn’t remember. When she went to check her journals she realized there was almost nothing written there. Pages and pages of frustratingly lacking entries and all in the same journal she’d been using since the start of the year. There were some days where she’d written nothing at all without ever realizing it. Making her entries was so much a part of her routine and yet there were days on days with nothing.

That was what worried Harriet most. It wasn’t just that she was forgetting her dreams. It was that somehow she’d been unaware of the problem for so long. Within minutes if she was distracted enough she wouldn’t even remember if she dreamed unless there was an entry to prove to her she had. Months of nothing were in her head. Perhaps what was worse was that every spell and test they’d done said there was no reason for it. No ailments. No curses. No potion dosing. No poisoning. No jinxes. No infection of Nargles or any of the other creatures anyone in their group could think of.

Trelawney thought she might be forgetting her dreams because she was seeing futures that weren’t coming to pass and what could never be was unable to stick in her mind. “These are turbulent times my dear. We can’t trust anything to stay fast. Not even Hogwarts.” Unfortunately this was all the advice Trelawney had to give on the matter. Her mind was tangled up in worrying about Umbridge and where her own future lay. She had Harriet reading her almost every day in the hopes of some news that could provide some assurance that things would be okay. Unfortunately Harriet wasn’t seeing that to give it honestly.

Luna was not as troubled as Trelawney about the future. When Ginny asked her how she could be so unconcerned with things being the way they were, Luna answered, “I have faith in Harriet.” She was equally untroubled by Harriet’s lapse in memory. Luna felt she should trust in herself and not be so worried. Her friend assured her that when she was meant to begin remembering again she would.

Hermione advised research. Despite all the predictions and readings Harriet and Luna both had done which provided some evidence to the merit of divination, Hermione was still a skeptic when it came to Sight or predicting the future with anything more than numbers and facts. They had both been taking arithmancy since the start of third year. The subject only helped Harriet to embrace her sight. Unfortunately the maths and form and logic of arithmancy’s methods -where divination was lacking- only turned Hermione against divination all the more. Harriet tried to explain to her that just because it didn’t make sense to Hermione didn’t mean in the grand design their wasn’t sense to it but it did no good.

Just like with everything else regarding divination Hermione tried her best to find ‘logical’ explanations, to downplay, and dismiss Harriet recent memory problems. At first she insisted that dreams were the minds way of processing and Harriet was likely forgetting her dreams in the normal way. When it became obvious it was something more her opinion evolved to believing the trouble with Harriet’s dreams lay with Voldemort the same as the dreams she’d had the summer before. Despite Harriet saying that it didn’t feel like something invasive or bad in the way her connection to Voldemort hurt and made her feel violated in the past Hermione insist the best day to deal with it was to find ways of protecting Harriet from that connection. After Snape diagnosed Harriet’s itching problem as being the result of that connection Hermione felt validated in what she’d been saying all along. That his diagnoses supported her own made her readily willing to dismiss Harriet’s doubts.

The three most prominent female figures in her life each had an incredibly different world view. They were the three she went to most for guidance. The maiden, the mother, and the crone but which was which and who had the right of it? Like with most things Harriet thought it was probably a mix of the three.

Harriet’s gut told her to borrow some of Luna’s faith. To trust things would work out in the end because she would make them work out, but it was so frustrating to rely on faith and patience and to set her negative emotions to the side. Those things had never been easy for her. She was not a person with immense patience, she was not good at putting aside her anger or resentments or fear or pain, and her life hadn’t given her much reason to trust things to work out in a way she could be at peace with.

Her parents had gone into hiding. They trusted their friend and he betrayed them leading to their deaths. Sirius had handed her over to Hagrid trusting she would be looked after with Dumbledore in charge. He’d confronted Pettigrew only to fail and when the system failed him he spent years in Azkaban for it while men like Malfoy went free. The only reason he wasn’t still there was because he escaped and it wasn’t truly like he was free as he had to fear going out because if he was caught he would be killed. And those were only a handful of things that hadn’t happened to Harriet personally. What happened to her made her faith in things working out even worse.

Sure, Voldemort had never gotten the stone but in the time he was trying to get it unicorns had been killed and who knew what else he had gotten up to at the school during that time. And yes, she and Ron had been the only students to get hurt because of the stone being kept at Hogwarts -that they knew of- but there had also been the troll let loose. Hermione nearly died! They all nearly died. Then the following year several students had to spend months petrified, she nearly died again, Ginny nearly died, and the person who arranged all this, Lucius Malfoy, got off scot free despite board governors confessing to being blackmailed and threatened! Harriet could go on. Sometimes she couldn’t help but to go on. Her friends had heard many the rant about the things Harriet found to be wrong with the world and specifically life at Hogwarts. Most recently Umbridge, Dumbledore’s lack of action, and her dreams were the main things she went off about. The itch she preferred not to talk about as it only made it worse.

Ron was sympathetic to Harriet’s frustrations but didn’t think letting her rant and worry and dwell on it was the solution. Whenever she went off on a tangent he would try changing the topic to get her mind on other things. Being raised in the magical world he had much more trust in magic and with it divination than Hermione did. He felt Harriet should listen to Luna and Trelawney on the matter as they were the experts.

As for Hermione’s advice he pointed out to her that actually Harriet had been dreaming from the snake’s perspective. Not Voldemort’s. Given that, he didn’t see how her scar and her connection to Voldemort could be the cause. It sounded like animal possession to him which while not a skill Harriet had shown in the past, it was connected to astral projection and scrying which Harriet had gotten very good at. The resulting argument between the two had ended with Ron dragging Hermione off to the section of the library that books on the matter saying maybe she’d believe her precious books since she wouldn’t listen to him. Eventually they’d moved past their hard feeling though neither ever apologized or admitted to being wrong.

Neville agreed with Ron and Luna but felt that looking into ways of protecting herself from Voldemort wasn’t such a bad idea. Still being a good friend he dug into his herbology expertise to help Harriet research any plants she could remember from her dreams and to compile a list of every plant, flower, algae, moss, and fungi that had any association to sleep, dreaming, or memory. Since gillyweed had saved the day in the second task Harriet had hoped something he came up with would provide some miracle answer but there was no such luck from anything she’d been able to try as of yet.

Sirius apologized for having no idea about divination or dreams. He’d never taken that elective and never looked into it on his own. When he’d been in school the subject had been considered all but dead with only a few students taking it as it wasn’t the easy grade it had become known to be. At the time the Professor who taught Divination was known for being very old, very strict, and very grim. Only those with a real interest took the class and with a scant number of holdouts staying on until their NEWTs. The only seers Sirius had personally known were Harriet and through her Luna.

Personally Harriet thought the those two things were related. She believed there were probably many people out there with weak sight. Maybe if it had been recognized they could have reached their full potential through training. Harriet knew she was bias but she really thought everyone should take a crash course in Divination just to see if they sparked with any of the practices. They had flying lessons in first year. Why not a quick run through of the different electives in second before kids had to pick?

Sirius had promised to enlist Remus in checking the Black Library for answers but as of yet had not gotten back to her. Harriet had a feeling he’d put it off until he’d forgotten. She was a bit irritated by that but she didn’t really blame Sirius for not making it a priority. She’d only mentioned the problem in passing on a night when they actually managed a mirror chat. Most of the time Harriet was too busy to steal a private moment unless she was in the Room of Requirement and she didn’t want to call Sirius from there because then she would have had to admit just how many problems she was dealing with and how severe some of them were turning out to be.

Harriet suspected she’d be getting an earful about holding back at the house later.

As the train pulled into King Cross Station she closed her eyes and made a wish for a good holiday. Harriet thought on all the people she cared about, the ones who would be with her and those who would not, and wished for them all to have a good break. She thought of all the staff and the students she didn’t know personally who had to deal with Umbridge and wished the same for them. From Harriet hundreds of magical strands were formed. Floating through air and objects alike they went looking for their intendeds while one little strand remained behind for Harriet. The Fates eagerly snatched up this second blessing their Mistress had gifted to herself and prepared to make use of it while the rest made their way to their recipients.

Luna watched the strands form and travel. No other eyes seemed able to see them but to her. As one floated over to her she raised a hand, not to capture it but to give the little blessing a place to land. She was touched to have received such a thing from her friend and watched as the other strands went off as well. If she had not known what was happening she might have been scared, but she had received warnings in the form of the prophecies which Trelawney routinely delivered when Luna stayed behind to talk to her after class.

Luna hoped everyone enjoyed their present from Harriet as much as she expected she would enjoy her own.

Chapter Text

Since starting Hogwarts Harriet had four very good Christmases that she wouldn’t trade for the world, but they were nothing to what she had this year. It was a Christmas spent away from Hogwarts that was the best she’d yet to have though she hoped things would only get better with every year going forward.

It started as soon as soon as they disembarked the train.

Luna had volunteered that if Hermione and Neville were still off seeing to their duties she and Harriet would take care of their familiars and luggage. Given it was more than they could carry and illegal for either of them to use their wands once off the train Harriet went to enlist the twin’s assistance. The two hemmed and hawed but readily enough they followed Harriet back to the compartment where Ron had already returned to get his own things.

Ushering their bother out of the way the pair drew their wands. With a swish, a flick, and twist they spelled the luggage down off the racks and charmed it into growing legs. With Fred leading the way and George bringing up the rear they lead the dancing luggage off in a parade. The only trunk excluded was Ronald’s. Grumbling his suspicions that this had been done by the twins on purpose Ron heaved his luggage down himself. Wanting to help Harriet offered to take Pigwidgeon for him which he gratefully accepted.

With Luna taking Crookshanks’ carrier and Trevor’s habitat they headed out to the hall where they met up with Ginny. The twins enlisted her luggage into the parade leaving her with nothing to carry. This incited some further grumbling from Ron. Ignoring him Ginny relieved Harriet of Pigwidgeon leaving her with only Hedwig’s cage to carry. Then together they joined the other students in filing off the train.

A flash of red hair caught their attention as they stepped down to the platform.

“Bill,” Ron called out in confusion as their group pushed towards him.

“No time for a chat,” he said giving Ron a pat on the shoulder and Ginny a hug before relieving her of Ron’s owl. The little bird flapped excitedly at being handed off yet again. “We best be going while the twins have the crowds attention.”

Before they could ask what he meant Fred came marching along the side of the platform holding his wand like a baton. Apparently the twins hadn’t sold all of their supplies after all as delightful bird fireworks were going off above the line of dancing luggage. With people distracted by the show Bill led them off through the crowd.

Harriet enjoyed the lack of attention directed her way though she thought some of the reason she was ignored might be a matter of people not recognizing her. The pictures being printed in the papers were from the year previous with her in her Triwizard champion uniform. At the time she’d been a good deal shorter as had her hair. She generally just looked very different. In muggle clothes, with her head down but not so far down as to appear suspicious she wasn’t easily recognizable to those who didn’t see her regularly. Given how much taller she was then most of her fellow students people might have thought she was family come to pick someone up.

Bill lead them through the crowd to an anxious group of adults. They were an odd grouping with the Grangers dressed well but in a modern muggle style next to the eccentricity of Mr Lovegood, Lady Longbottom in her signature vulture hat, and Mrs Weasley in her in her homey attire. Mister Weasley sadly couldn’t be there as his taking off work the day Hogwarts students were sent home might have drawn suspicion of Harriet’s departing. The Headmaster had held off adding their names to the list of students heading home for the holidays until the very last minute to avoid letting Umbridge report what they were planning to the Ministry. While being hopeful it had worked, Harriet knew that even if it had they couldn’t linger for long. The plan was to get Hermione and her parents back to their car before using a taxi to take their group off before walking the last leg of the journey back to Headquarters.

After greetings were exchanged, hugs given, and one too many comments about just how much Harriet had grown, Lupin appeared through the crowd bringing Hermione and Neville along with him.

“Remus,” Harriet greeted, embracing her former professor in a hug.

He was surprised by the warm welcome and physical gesture but accepted both easily. After a second he pulled her back at hold at arm’s length. He gave her a looking over and then with his inspection done proclaimed, “You have grown.”

Harriet fought off a frown and instead rolled her eyes. “So everyone keeps telling me.”

Remus gave a chuckle but then his attention was caught by something behind her which soured his expression. Harriet watched in confusion as he reached down to take Hedwig and hand her owl over to Mrs Weasley.

Concerned Harriet asked, “What’s happening,”

“There’s been a change of plans.”

“What sort of change,” Harriet asked taking a step back from Remus. Her hand moving to her wand.

Remus smiled at her sadly for her display of justified vigilance. “The last thing given to you before you left for the train in September was a packed lunch from your cousin. The second to last was a mirror that your father had once used.”

Harriet didn’t know how an imposter might have come across that information but as both those things had happened on the same day or could have been hunted out from Lupin’s mind she felt compelled to ask, “What’s the best way to get to Hogsmeade from Gryffindor tower?”

As a question not readily related to her it wasn’t something that someone would likely look into for a deception but Lupin would know.

“Harriet dear,” Mrs Weasley tried, “this really isn’t necessary.”

“I’m sure Moody would disagree Molly,” Remus argued before answering Harriet with, “A witch with one eye.”

Harriet relaxed some. “Why is there a change in plans,” she asked still wanting to know.

“All sorts here dear,” Mrs Weasley answered for Remus in a whisper. “Plenty who might think to try something even if it’s only to follow to see where we go.”

“Dumbledore thought it best you go home instead of going to the burrow,” Remus said holding out his hand. The way he said home made Harriet feel he wasn’t talking about the Dursleys.

Thinking she understood Harriet nodded but ignored Remus’ hand. She didn’t know why but it was very prevalent in her mind that every time you part ways with someone, it might be your last chance to say goodbye. She gave her farewells to all her friends as well as the adults including the Weasleys ‘for the act.’ When she got to the Lovegoods there was something in Luna’s expression that tipped her off.

“Take care of yourself,” Harriet said distracted by that knowing look in her friend’s eye.

“I will,” Luna assured giving her a hug. “Say hello to John for me.”

Harriet’s gaze tightened with suspicion. “What do you know,” she pressed but Luna’s eyes only twinkled in amusement in a way far too similar to their Headmaster for Harriet’s comfort. It made all of her scalp itchy.

Before anything more could be said Remus was laying a hand on her shoulder and declaring it time for them to leave.

“Have you ever traveled by side-along apparition,” he asked her.

“No,” Harriet admitted. She did know what apparition was though and she didn’t have high hopes for the experience given her history with any form of magical transportation that wasn’t a broom.

“It helps if you exhale first,” Remus warned her.

Harriet didn’t like that warning.

She only just had time to let her breath out before everything went black as a tremendous pressure bore down on her body from every direction like something was trying to compress her into a diamond. She couldn’t breathe in. Her lungs were too weak to push against the force on her torso. Panic started to set in but then just as quickly as it had closed in around her the pressure and the darkness were gone.

Apparition had been awful. Just awful. Her instincts about apparition had been entirely correct. Feeling sick to her stomach she bent over with her hands on her knees while see desperately pulled air into her lungs.

“You get used to it,” Remus assured her, making Harriet turn her head to look at him in disbelief.

Smiling with amusement he reached out to rub comforting circles on her back.

“Deep slow breaths,” he advised but Harriet was already distracted. She’d recognized the bit of wall behind Remus. They were out the back of the Leaky Cauldron at entrance to Diagon Alley

Having an idea why they were there Harriet’s heart rate kicked up with anticipation. ‘Say hello to John,’ Luna had said.

“Are we going shopping,” she asked hoping the answer would be no.

“Maybe,” Remus answered instead.

Getting her standing straight and walking he led her back into the pub.

As they made their way inside Harriet eagerly looked over the scant crowd. She spotted some familiar faces but the one that stuck out the most was Mad-Eye Moody who was making his way for the stairs which was where Remus was leading her. Harriet now felt certain she knew what was coming.

At the top of the stairs Moody was waiting for them. Harriet greeted him and got a gruff, “Lupin. Potter,” in return before he tilted his head for Remus to lead the way while Moody took up the rear.

Harriet’s body thrummed with anticipation as Remus led them through the halls to room seven. He brought his fist up and let it hover while he smiled at Harriet.

“Happy Christmas,” he told her before giving the door a sound knocking.

Holding her breath she waited for an answer. It took a moment before a familiar distinctly American voice was calling out, “Just a minute.”

She’d expected a fight to get the Order to allow her to see John but instead they delivered her right onto his doorstep. Harriet beamed at Remus with excitement and pleasure. He looked pleased in return. Turning back to the door she bit her tongue to keep from shouting a reply and spoiling the surprise. It felt like an eternity to Harriet before the door swung open revealing her favorite person in the world.

“Harriet,” John said blinking in surprise.

“I hope we’re not disturbing you,” she replied cheerful.

She barely managed finished the sentiment before John was wrapping her up in a hug.

She laughed through her words as she hugged him back. “No, really. We could come back later if it’s a problem.”

“Oh hush,” John told her gently as he continued to draw out the hug.

Smiling, Harriet buried her head in his shoulder.

“Missed you,” she murmured.

“Missed you more.”

***

Voldemort had known the Order was up to something with how many of them had shown up at the Leaky Cauldron that day. He never suspected it was because they indented to deliver Harriet to him. He’d arranged for ‘John’ to returned from his travels the day before to ensure he would be there if the chance to see Harriet arrived but he hadn’t dreamed he would actually see her so soon. He expected it would take days of begging and bargaining before Harriet could arrange for them to meet.

Given the time Voldemort knew they must have come directly from the train station. He supposed it made sense given how the Order seemed to think. By springing Harriet on the boy John was meant to be shouldn’t have time to prepare anything ill willed. If he was working for the Ministry or the Dark there wouldn’t be time to call for backup. Given some of their foolishness in the past Voldemort was almost impressed though if it was him in their place John would have been captured and interrogated with truth serum at the very least before ever seeing Harriet. If any actual Potters showed up that was certainly Voldemort’s intention.

Keeping Harriet in his arms he pulled back to smile at her before putting on a show of ‘only just noticing’ the intimidating form of Mad-Eye behind her. He blinked in apparent surprise before allowing a contemplative expression to fall into place as John seemingly sorted through his memories for all the time’s he’d seen the man before. After all Mad-Eye had a very singular appearance and Voldemort refused to present himself as a fool who would not recall him with how often he had been around.

For show Voldemort shook his head before putting on a smile, “Come in, come in,” he told them keeping Harriet by his side as they led the other two into the room. He wasn’t comfortable having them at his back but there were appearances of trust and inexperience to maintain.

“John, this is Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody,” Harriet introduced before adding with both fondness and sass, “my body guards.”

Remus gave her a look for feeling it necessary to tac that on but Moody accepted the title as his due. “With the war starting again you need bodyguards Potter. Unless you don’t want to live to graduate from Hogwarts.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Voldemort said. He could see a hint of the perturbed look Harriet was sending him in his peripheral and gave her a squeeze. Reluctantly unwrapping his arm from around her he presented his hand to Moody. “It’s nice to finally put faces to the names.”

While Moody’s normal eye stayed locked with Voldemort’s, his magical prosthesis was scanning the offered hand. Finding nothing amiss he took it and gave it one firm shake before letting him go.

Turning to Remus Voldemort offered him his hand as well.

“Harriet’s told you about us,” Remus asked as they shook.

Harriet answered for herself. “I thought Moody was my teacher for a year and you were friends with my parents and my Professor.” The ‘what do you think’ went unsaid but came through in her tone.

Voldemort wondered not for the first time how much of this attitude was adolescence and how much would remain with Harriet into adulthood. From what he remembered of her parents Voldemort expected Harriet would keep a sharpened edge to her tongue for the rest of her life. While her father was known as the trouble maker, Lily Evans had developed a reputation as the insolent mud-blood who mocked Death Eaters during attacks. She never dared with him but with some of the strongest in his number she certainly had.

“Thank you for bringing Harriet,” Voldemort told Remus as he wrapped his arm back around her.

He noticed the way the werewolf’s eyes tracked the movement not one hundred percent approving. Still Remus smiled as he replied, “Christmas is a time for family.”

“But there will be conditions,” Moody interjected. Voldemort looked at him expectantly while Harriet signed resigned. “You go nowhere without the full escort-”

Harriet interrupted, “We get to go out?”

“To muggle locations of our choosing yes,” Remus told her. “We don’t think its safe to be going about Wizarding spaces for the time being. We’ll be avoiding London as well.”

Voldemort frowned. “Wouldn’t the crowds be good? Let us just blend in with the muggles?”

Moody looked approving of John’s thinking but denied, “Too hard to keep track of you. Too much risk you’ll get separated from your escort.”

“Once everyone else arrives we’ll be heading out,” Remus explained. “Unless you have plans John?”

“No plans,” Voldemort said with a shake of his head while Harriet eyed Moody.

Clearly skeptical she asked, “You’re going with us?”

Moody’s mad eye latched onto her. Voldemort couldn’t help but to tense some. He didn’t like Harriet under such scrutiny.

A smile stretched Moody’s face as he found humor in what he was about to say. “I’ll have my eye on you. You can be assured of that Miss Potter.”

With the unsettling thoughts that conjured set aside Voldemort asked if they would be waiting so long that he should call for tea. With a pot on it’s way he led Harriet to the table in his room and asked her about her morning but she rushed her recounting as she was more interested in getting answers from Remus. It was already fairly late in the day, almost time for supper really, and she worried exactly how much time she’d have with John. Would it be all she would get over the entirety of holiday?

“With Christmas being a time for family am I going to get to see him on the actual day,” she pushed.

Remus was weak to her pleading eyes but Moody was not.

“We’ll see how this goes before we decide anything further,” he told her while his eye swiveled to the door. He lumbered over just in time for a knock to fall on the door.

Young Bill Weasley, another member of their escort had arrived.

He reported to the group that the Grangers, Lovegoods, and Longbottoms all were safely home and after a brief stop at the Burrow for appearances the Weasleys had gone to where they would be staying -headquarters Voldemort assumed though the eldest Weasley son wisely didn’t say such- and would see Harriet later. After that he introduced Bill himself to John and settled in to chat. The boy was easy going and had a kind of charisma. Voldemort allowed it to appear that John was getting pulled in by him as they talked and ‘made friends.’ He was certain to keep Harriet included in the conversation and approved when Bill did the same. Meanwhile Remus and Moody hung back to observe.

The next of the escort to arrive was Mr Weasley who had left work an hour early for the duty and was eager to go out into the muggle world again. He happily greeted his son with a hug and the same for Harriet while John got a handshake. Voldemort was darkly amused imagining how the Weasley patriarch would react if he knew just who’s hand he was shaking. Sadly he could never know how accurate his guess was as Voldemort would ever allow him to find out.

With Mr Weasley a part of things conversation became a bit more hectic but it wasn’t long before the last of the escort arrived.

Two women around Bill’s age who appeared to be siblings were waved in by Moody. Voldemort didn’t recognize them or their features as belonging to a specific family. There was a chance they were new recruits but given it was Harriet they were protecting Voldemort found it much more likely that the faces were a disguise. As the women came forward to introduce themselves one was presented as Tonia and the other as Serena. Given the names Voldemort suspected he knew who the two might be though he truly hoped the order had enough sense to be more original. If Tonia tripped, bumped into, or spilled anything before the night was up he felt confident he could assume he was meeting Miss Tonks. As for ‘Serena’, if that was who Voldemort thought them to be, than someone was being a bad dog.

While Tonia was trying to introduce herself to Harriet she did not have the girl’s attention. Harriet was too busy studying ‘Serena’ who was flirtatiously introducing herself to Voldemort. He could see there was no intent to it. All the physicals reactions spoke to her actions being a show. Given who he thought this was he chose to present John as uncomfortable with her manor. This only encouraged ‘Serena’.

When they finally moved on to greet Harriet the girl took their hand while studying the face. Suddenly the intense scrutiny Harriet was showing became fury. Her hand tightened around Serena’s making them cringe in pain.

“Can I speak to you in private,” Harriet demanded. Not giving her captive a choice she dragged them off to the bathroom.

“It’s not girl troubles is it,” Serena asked nervously.

Harriet slammed the bathroom door behind them.

Thoroughly amused Voldemort put on his best nonplussed expression and asked, “Um, would anyone care to explain what just happened?”

***

“What are you thinking,” Harriet demanded of him as soon as the bathroom door was closed.

Wincing Sirius quickly drew his wand to cast some privacy spells. Harriet waited with her arms crossed and scowl on her face until he was done before she continued.

“What part of it not being safe for you to be out have you suddenly forgotten Sirius?”

He tried for a smile. “I suppose I should have known better than to think I could get something past the eyes of a Seer.”

Harriet squinted at him. “It has nothing to do with being a Seer. Anyone who knows you could see it in your expression and how you talk and- Changing your body doesn’t make you less you. But that’s besides the point,” she said waving her hand around. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to meet your John,” Sirius explained knowing it was a weak excuse.

“And you couldn’t wait till we weren’t in the wizarding world?”

“It’s nothing to get so worked up over. It’s hardly the first time I’ve been to Diagon Ally as a wanted man,” Sirius admitted lightly and then immediately regretted it.

Harriet’s eyes went wide. “You- What? When?”

“…The only way to get anything from my vaults was to go to Gringotts in person.”

“What did you need that was so important,” Harriet asked incredulously. Then realization hit her and she was dropping her head into her hand. “Oh Merlin. My broom!”

Sirius grimaced. “Not your broom… well, not just your broom.”

Not even Harriet’s glare could encourage Sirius to continue. He wasn’t going to make any more excuses. He knew it had been foolish. He knew he was currently committing to further foolishness but he just couldn’t help himself.

As Harriet’s expression turned from anger to pity Sirius just wanted to shrink in on himself and hide.

“We need to get out of here,” Harriet declared with a sigh. “We need to get you, me, John, and everyone else out of here and far, far away from any wizards. Your face might not be recognizable for the moment but mine is.”

Sirius nodded. Unable to stop himself, he offered, “Anything more you want to get off your chest before we head back out there?”

“Yes,” Harriet agreed.

Sirius braced himself for a further verbal lashing but instead found himself pulled in for an embrace.

“Missed you,” his goddaughter murmured into the top of his head.

While the polyjuice had made him shorter he still felt the need to comment. “You really have grown,” to which Harriet snorted while Sirius wrapped his arms around her. “Missed you too… not mad at me anymore then?”

“For this summer or showing up here,” Harriet asked pulling away.

Sirius smiled. “Both.”

“No, not mad anymore,” Harriet admitted. “But I will be if you go on flirting with John just because you find it funny to watch him squirm.”

“Who says it’s just to watch him squirm,” Sirius said offhandedly.

Harriet blinked processing that. With earnestness she asked, “You like him?”

Chuckling Sirius admitted, “No dear. Just having some fun with you two.”

Despite his assurances her earnestness continued. “You know it would be okay if you did. I’d definitely tease you, but no judgement.”

While it was very nice to hear Harriet was the understanding sort the lad looked too painfully like James and far too similar to Harriet for Sirius to ever consider him in that light. “I have no interest in John.”

“Then no more flirting with him.”

“No more flirting,” Sirius agreed easily. “Scout’s honor.”

Harriet rolled her eyes, “Do you even know what that means?”

***

Voldemort had never allowed himself to be taken along in someone else’s apparition. To submit to someone else’s control in such a way was unacceptable in the past but for Harriet he allowed Moody to take his shoulder and whisk him off to places unknown.

“Where are we,” he asked when they landed as the Weasley’s arrived with the rest trailing after.

Rather than answering Mad-Eye threw an invisibility cloak around himself disappearing. Voldemort rolled his eyes.

Walking over to Harriet he linked their arms together and started leading them out on to the main street at a leisurely pace from the secluded spot the Order had dropped them into. “What would you like to do?”

“I’d suggest a Panto, the Christmas market, or maybe some ice skating, but I don’t think we have the time,” Harriet said all smiles however Voldemort knew those weren’t arbitrary choices. He had a list held in his mind of all the traditional Christmas activities Harriet had never been afforded the opportunity to participate in. He didn’t think they would be able to see to them all this year but he had included them in his plans for the future.

“What about dinner,” he asked.

“Dinner sounds good,” Harriet agreed.

“I can suggest a few places,” Remus said speaking up.

“Any Indian,” Voldemort asked knowing the Dursleys had never allowed anything so ‘foreign’ in their house.

This is how he found himself crowded around a table with most of Harriet’s escort while Moody presumably watched from near by. In this setting Harriet and his easy familiarity spread from them to the others. The conversation flowed easily as they shared their evening meal with everyone telling stories of their travels as John had started things off by telling them about his recent stay in Norway.

They were almost half way through their meal when Sirius, having topped up on his polyjuice potion, laced his fingers to rest his chin on them before asking, “And what is it you’re planning for the future John? Will you travel as a man of leisure all your life?”

With the attention of the table waiting on his answer Voldemort took a sip from his glass before speaking. “No. Actually, I’ve been looking into living in the UK long term. With Harriet here this is where I want to be,” he finished looking at Harriet who shared a smile with him.

“You might have a hard time with that,” Bill pointed out hesitantly. “Gaining Residence Rights can be tricky. The only one I know to have done it is Fleur Delacour and she’s said the only reason she was accepted was because of her part in the tournament even though she had Gringotts’ backing. Given your connection to Harriet I can’t see it happening.”

Harriet, Voldemort noticed was keeping her eyes fixed on her plate.

“I think I found a way around that,” Voldemort revealed. There was of course marriage, the path the ministry most pushed for as it guaranteed new blood for the waning British lines but he would not be indulging in that for something so trivial. “There’s an exemption made for those working for the ministry along with a fast track towards citizenship after five consecutive years of service.”

Silence held the table for a moment with Harriet being the one to break it. Trying to hold back her disdain for the thought of her cousin working with that corrupt lot she asked, “What kind of position were you thinking of?”

“Auror,” Voldemort answered without hesitation. “Sooner or later people are going to realize you aren’t lying. When that time comes there will likely be an increase in applicants but that may be too late. We need new recruits training now, so I’m putting myself forward.”

“I think that brings us back around to the same problem,” Remus said from besides him at the table. “Given your connection to the Harriet it is unlikely they will let you in.”

Voldemort shrugged leaning back in his chair. “Your friends close and your enemies closer, right? As a foreigner the ministry has little to no power over me and none whatsoever if I leave the country. If I work for them I have to tell them where I am living. They’ll have a way of keeping track of me for most hours of the day. While I’m going through training I’ll have very little actual authority and once I’m official they’ll have leverage over me. I have to be interviewed at the start and I will have to be honest about my intention in joining at least in part to gain citizenship. They could use that against me. Or at least they’ll probably see it that way.”

“Slytherin thinking,” Sirius pointed out.

“Clever thinking,” Harriet defended. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Besides, Slytherin can’t be all bad. The hat wanted to make me one after all.”

Voldemort hid his smile behind is glass as he observed the reactions that bit of news got from those around the table.

“And my mum was Slytherin so watch what you say,” ‘Tonia’ added.

Feigning ignorance Voldemort asked, “I thought you two were sisters.”

“Half,” Sirius and Tonks said at the same time before stealing a quick glance of surprise at one another.

‘Great minds,’ Voldemort thought sarcastically while patting Harriet on the back as she choked back her laughter by coughing into her serviette. Aloud he remarked, “But you look so alike?”

After dinner had been dragged out for as long as it could be Voldemort insisted on picking up the check. He left a large tip for the waitress who had patiently explained the menu to the table, answered their questions, and recommended Harriet’s favorites of the evening. Truthfully it was the last that earned her his generosity. With night having set in there was little time left before Harriet would have to leave but the others allowed them a walk down main street to do some Christmas shopping.

Snape had banned all synthetics and enchanted wear from Harriet’s wardrobe until they had more assurances that these things weren’t exasperating her condition. While this didn’t leave Harriet walking down the streets naked it did limit her already decimated wardrobe. Things that had fit in September she had already outgrown and while she’d been supplementing the losses with things bought from Glad Rags all of their wares came with some basic charms already applied as well as often using materials that were magical in nature. As such there was practical shopping to be done as well.

Sirius or ‘Serena’ as he was still expected to believe him to be enjoyed spoiling Harriet as much as Voldemort did. He however didn’t have muggle currency on him to support his desires but realizing John did he simply took to encouraging the cousin to buy for the girl what the godfather would have.

In time the bodyguards rather forgot what they were there for with Arthur drawn in by all the bits and nuances of muggle life, Bill keeping his father out of trouble, Sirius focused on an evening out with Harriet, Remus becoming lost in enjoying the evening, and Tonia or rather Tonks sticking close to the werewolf’s side through it all making conversation and pulling smiles and even laughter from the usually mopey man.

In the end it took Mad-eye whispering from his cover to the other escorts to bring their evening to a close.

After a long goodbye the others left with Harriet while Moody saw to delivering John safely back to the Leaky Cauldron. When they landed at the entrance to the ally Voldemort turned to Mad-Eye.

“I guess this is my stop,” he said light heartedly. He held out his hand to the man. “Thank you for tonight. It meant the world to see her. Letters just aren’t the same.”

His gratitude was genuine. Already he could feel the ache of being parted from Harriet after their limited time together.

Holding his eye Moody took his hand and didn’t let go. “Did you mean what you said boy. You intent to become an auror.”

“I did” Voldemort agreed easily. He wasn’t lying, though he had lied about relying on the cleverness of Ministry employees to get him in. When his spies eventually reported John Potter’s application he would be ordering that they see it accepted laying out the same reasoning he’d done for the Order. Whether it got him citizenship or not it would add to his persona as John and the validity of that identity which was integral to his plans for the future. “I have the papers up in my room. I intend to submit them once Harriet is back at school.”

Moody sucked his teeth before saying, “When you’re done with your application give it too me. I’ll see it gets in the right hands.”

Voldemort put on a show of blinking in surprise before grinning in thanks.

“Shall I deliver them to your usual table,” Voldemort asked to make it clear John had recognized Mad-Eye as a regular patron at the Leaky Cauldron.

Moody gave a grunt.

“And will I see Harriet again,” Voldemort pushed.

He was answered by the crack of Disapparation.

Even though they had spent the evening together Harriet still wrote him that night and Voldemort sent a reply for her to have come the morning as was their usual routine. Harriet wrote him again the following night to tell him all about her day decorating headquarters with Sirius and the Weasleys. In return he told her about his day exploring different places he might wish to live. The next morning Mad-Eye was waiting down in the pub with an untouched tea and the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. He signaled for Voldemort to follow him and skipping his breakfast he did. Without ceremony or greeting Mad-Eye latched onto his shoulder and took them both away. They landed on the outskirts of a city with Harriet and her entourage waiting for them.

They were allowed six visits over the course of the break when the Order members had been match their schedules to provide a suitable guard. Whatever Harriet wanted to do with the time they had Voldemort did his best to arrange it. There had been a Panto, markets, and ice skating all as well as much more.

Ice skating was not something he had ever done before. He did not enjoy appearing less than competent as he tried but when Harriet saw his frustration she smiled and when she fell she laughed. Being able to see for himself her joy made the experience bearable for Voldemort.

Through a letter he learned that having heard about their experience at the pantomime the Weasley children persuaded their parents to let them go as well. Once plans were made they sent out word to Luna, Neville, and Hermione to join them. They decided to make a whole day of it, exploring muggle London and the various Holiday attractions that were in place. Harriet had a wonderful day, her only regret being that was John couldn’t join them but they still had their time together.

Christmas Eve was their own. They remained in John’s room at the Leaky Cauldron where Harriet helped him to set up decorations and dress the tree he had gotten that morning. They had dinner -which Voldemort specially ordered from the best magical restaurant in the UK- with their guard for the evening. A guard which consisted of Sirius, Remus, Moody, and for the first time Miss Tonks wearing her own face. After dinner they sat themselves on the floor to open presents.

“Mine first,” Harriet declared.

Reaching into her wolly bag she pulled out a package done in festive wrapping and presented it to Voldemort. Inside was a muggle cardboard box and in that on a bed of gold flecked tissue paper was an elegant though oversized dark green jumper with metallic gold threads running through it.

Smiling Harriet produced three similarly sized boxes. Of the two wrapped she handed one to Sirius and Remus each and the unwrapped one she kept for herself. She sent an apologetic look to Tonks and Moody for excluding them.

“I knew you wouldn’t approve of a proper Christmas jumper, not for yourself anyway but I thought you won’t mind that,” she explained to Voldemort before turning to Sirius and Remus. “And I made it a set so we could all match.”

Where his jumper was predominately green Harriet’s was white but still with the gold while Remus and Sirius had similar jumpers representing their house pride in bold red and gold. Once they were all dressed and knowing Harriet would appreciate having a photograph of the four of them in front of the tree Voldemort retrieved his new camera. Once they had gotten a few shots Harriet invited Mad-Eye and Tonks to join them for the next. After that knowing they had a camera Harriet wanted to go on capturing the tree and the people she cared about. Eventually Tonks had to volunteer as photographer for the evening to get Harriet back to presents.

From Harriet Voldemort received a book on the history of the Potter’s in England and a photo album with pictures of the two of them with Harriet’s friends taken by Mr Creevey during the visit to Hogsmeade Voldemort attended to give Harriet their delivery boxes after Hedwig was attacked. The rest of his presents would be saved for his stocking come morning Harriet told him, but their was one last for the night. From her wolly back she sheepishly presented to him a large soft package with two smaller packages going to Remus and Sirius.

“Originally I thought I could learn knitting from Hermione and make us our Christmas jumpers,” she admitted while they unveiled her last present. “I’ve always loved the ones Mrs Weasley gives us. I thought it would be better if I went for the personal touch… but I ah, was a bit over ambitious with that idea.”

From their packages Sirius and Remus produced less than ideal scarves while Voldemort had received a blanket.

“I think these at least turned out decent,” she finished hopefully.

While Remus and Sirius assured her she’d done just fine and regaled her with stories of her mothers attempts to learn in order to make something for baby Harriet, Voldemort was too entranced with his gifts to speak. The book of Potters to show she accepted him as a part of the family, the album to remember their times together with pages left empty in the hope of future experiences, and a blanket made with love given to cover and protect while reminding him that he was cared for.

“John,” Harriet asked drawing his attention up. “Do you like it?”

To answer he pulled her into a hug. “I’ve never been given anything that meant so much to me.”

When he pulled back he smiled at her mischievously. Getting to his feet he declared, “My turned,” before heading off to the bathroom to retrieve the mountain of presents he’d hidden in the tub.

When Harriet saw the pile she smiled however just the tiniest bit. Refusing to show approval for his extravagant ways she buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Haven’t you bought me enough already?”

“Never,” Voldemort declared while continuing back to his spot to place the packages down.

Looking partly up from her hands Harriet raised an eyebrow at him. “Before I met you I owned one time piece in my entire life and it was a hand me down. Now I have eight.”

Voldemort nodded. “One to match your dress robes, three for your time in the muggle world, and four for your other days. I do keep track of what I get you, you know. If I didn’t I wouldn’t know what you still need,” he concluded looking down on her.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Harriet cracked rolling her eyes and dropping her hands while Voldemort smiled in victory.

“Now I don’t want to hear anything more from you about what is and isn’t necessary. Besides these aren’t all actually for you,” he revealed beginning to sort things down into small the piles. He’d gotten something for all of Harriet’s friends and the order members he’d met. He’d paid for most of those presents to be delivered by post owl in the morning but for the Weasleys and Order members he would be sending them back with Harriet.

Finding the four presents he was looking for Voldemort handed them out to the others in the room and was surprised to get a present in return. A book on defense jointly from Sirius and Remus. He thanked them both before taking his seat and sliding Harriet’s presents to her to be opened. She still found the number and the items themselves to be too extravagant but Voldemort knew she was secretly touched to know someone cared and was willing to spend their money on getting her thoughtful presents.

While she saw to her presents so too did the others. For Tonks a simple color changing scarf, for Sirius a muggle book on pranks, for Remus a collection of defense texts from some of the countries John had recently visited, and lastly, for Mad-Eye one John Potter’s completed Auror application.

Chapter Text

Harriet was in a vast barren stretch of snow covered land. Breathing in the cold, feeling it flood her lungs she tilted her head back to look up at the golden sky above. Capturing Harriet’s attention a particularly large snowflake was falling down towards her face. She felt a little hint of fear at the idea of reaching out to catch it but that fear only encouraged her on. As her fist closed around it the snowflake ceased to be, its existence replaced by a thread of magic. Closing her eyes Harriet willed the thread to sink into her. She tracked it with her inner eye as it traveled smaller and smaller, deeper and deeper, until it was at the very weaving of her existence in the universe. There was something more there. Something more there to see but something told her not to look. She traveled back the way she’d come until she was looking at the world around her with her eyes still shut. Closing her inner gaze she opened her eyes to the peaceful gold of the sky above her.

Releasing a breath she dropped her hand. The snowflake was gone. Looking for a distraction Harriet turned slowly in a circle until she spotted a cluster of glittering specs of gold out on the horizon. She didn’t know if she wanted to visit the graveyard again, but looking around there didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

At the entrance she bowed in respect to the founders of her House before heading in. She recognized the next pair of statues lining the path from her recent research into her family with books she’d found in the Black library.

To her left stood Hardwin Potter, the eldest of the seven sons who fathered the first branches of their family tree. To her right, across the path from him stood his wife Iolanthe Peverell. Together they had founded the Potter line which led down through the centuries to her. In their time it was considered to be a well made match. In both position and wealth the two families were mostly equal but what appealed most to Iolanthe’s family was that Potter blood had proven fertile. While Peverell was an old and respected house its numbers were dwindling. Iolanthe’s generation had been the last in their branch to bear the name Peverell. As the eldest of a generation of daughters she’d brought much of the Peverell’s wealth and heirlooms into the marriage.

A bizarre fact of Potter history was that every eldest child of their line had been boys. Most of the descendants of Hardwin and Iolanthe had in fact been male. Harriet had been the only first born female of their branch and the first girl in the family for generations. There had been rumors in the past that a spell or curse had been done to allow this but no one ever found any hard evidence to prove it. Harriet didn’t know if there was any truth to the rumors as coincidences did happen.

As Harriet continued down the path she came across others she’d read about.

There was Pince Potter who was a renowned painter of portraits in his time, Willace Potter who helped negotiate a peace treaty with the Goblin Nation, Gloin Potter who had run a magical trading company, John Potter who had co-owned a racing broom manufacturer, and of course Ralston Potter. A member of Wizengamot in the 1600s he’d supported the Statue of Secrecy which at time was seen with some scorn in Britain as the pacifist’s approach. Those that wanted to declare war on the muggles saw it as cowardice. It was only due to the overwhelming global support that they went along with the Statute in the end.

Henry Potter, her great-grandfather was the only other Potter to hold a Wizengmot seat. While in the position he called for the magical community to help the muggles fighting in the first world war. His outspokenness along with the commonness of their surname in the muggle world sparked rumors that their house came from tainted blood but this ‘smear’ campaign didn’t stop Ralston from speaking out. Harriet was proud to have such ancestors.

As she reached her grandparents’ statues they smiled down on her. Smiling back Harriet drew her wand. With careful spellwork she transfigured the top layer of snow around their bases into blooms. A mix of blue, grey, and white species and varieties for her grandmother to compliment the stones in her statue. Reds, yellows, and blues for her grandfather for the same reason.

Fleamont Potter, Harriet’s grandfather who she knew better now thanks to both her reading, Sirius, and Remus’ stories had been named after his mother’s family. As her siblings had passed on before they could have children of their own Fleamont's mother had not wanted her name to die with her. It had been her dying wish that the name live on so Henry obliged. Fleamont was known as a fine dueler and business man. He quadrupled the family fortune with his invention of the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Two drops could tame even a Potters’ wild curls though James much to his mother’s exasperation had refused to use it preferring his natural bird’s nest.

Euphemia Potter, Jame’s mother, Harriet’s grandmother hadn’t been a fighter preferring peace and comfort and home. A former Ravenclaw she was a witch accomplished in transfiguration and charms. After figuring out what they were trying to do Euphemia had been the one to help the Marauders with their desire to become animagi. She’d helped them on a promise that they would continue to keep the ability a secret even once they were done with school and no longer needed the secrecy to help Remus. With the war heating up she wanted it to be an ace up their sleeve in case they ever found themselves in more than simple boyhood trouble.

Having paid her respects to her grandparents Harriet moved on to her parents’ statues to do the same, transforming snow into flowers.

When she finished her work Harriet considered what she should do next. Looking out past her parents she found her attention drawn to her own statue. Something was different. It wasn’t immediately apparent what but she could feel something had changed since the last time she’d seen it. Moving forward she went to get a closer look at herself. As she neared she saw the problem. On the back of its hand was an engraving.

With light fingers Harriet traced the smooth skin on the back of her hand where there should have been a wound, but there wasn’t. There wasn’t a single mark. No matter how many hours Umbridge drew out her detentions or how many days in a row she subjected Harriet to those blood quills it never took more than three to four days for the damage to heal completely. Snape was helping to treat the other students. He could take away their pain and minimize the damage but even he was having trouble with the scarring left behind on those most often subjected to Umbridge’s detentions. But Harriet needed almost no help at all. Snape took her pain and her body took care of healing itself. She felt guilty that the others had to bare their scars while she didn’t but she was happy to look down and see smooth skin. She didn’t like the idea that even though Umbridge wasn’t able to mark her physically it was leaving an impression here in this place on her statue.

Storing away her wand Harriet hoisted herself up besides her statue to get a better look. Holding on to Hedwig for balance she moved around the edge of the base for the best angle to read the words carved into the ice.

‘Some Things Are Worth Lying For.’ With her brow scrunched in confusion she read the words again before giving it some thought. At the start of the school year that wouldn’t have been a statement she would feel any connection with… but it did seem rather fitting. It was a good reminder to herself that while she may not like deception the world they lived in sometimes made it necessary. After all the D.A. wouldn’t be able to operate if they weren’t all lying about what they were doing. More, weren’t they lying by omission to keep Sirius from becoming a soulless husk? There were some things worth lying for. There were some people worth lying for.

Looking out past her statue Harriet expected to see an endless stretch of snow under golden skies. Instead, hiding in the shadow of her statue was another base and on that base sat a cauldron with what Harriet thought was a very large snake curled around it. Carefully getting back to the ground Harriet didn’t notice that the snow was no longer falling from the skies which had lost their rainbow and were steadily darkening.

From a distance it was hard to tell but as she got closer Harriet noticed that the design on this base was made up of very simplistic snakes. Towards the bottom the serpents were laid out and bent into ridged straight lines with their bodies fitting together like pieces from Tetris but the higher up the base you went the unnatural geometry was lost as the snakes began fitting and crossing themselves together in a more organic fashion.

The snake atop the base was very different from the ones that made it up. The ones on the base were extremely simplistic and unrealistic but the one on top was anatomically correct in its shape. Made from copper her surface had oxidized leaving her thigh thick, long body patina green. She was so long she was still able to over lap herself despite being coiled around an easily three foot across cauldron. Like Hedwig the snake had been done with her eyes closed and existed frozen in her pose. Beyond her lifelessness the most unrealistic thing about her were her scales which had been carved out with artistic stylization in mind rather than a replication of real snake’s skin. Again, much the same as Hedwig’s statue.

Looking down Harriet searched for the plaque experience told her should be somewhere on the base. Eventually she found it. Unlike all the others she had seen before the plaque was not proudly displayed but off to the side and partially hidden with snakes creeping in if not outright crossing over it. What Harriet could see though was completely blank like hers.

Looking up Harriet moved as close as she could to the base and even went up on her tiptoes but the interior of the cauldron was still far out of her sight. She had a feeling there was something inside. She knew she should probably leave it alone. It was one thing to climb up on her own monument but to go traipsing on someone else's would be rude… But still. This base came after hers. Directly after hers. To leave this mystery would leave her an itching pile of misery.

Giving in to her Gryffindor recklessness Harriet hoisted herself up onto the base despite knowing deep down she should leave it well enough alone.

Using the snake as a step stool she stood up and looked inside the cauldron. Immediately she regretted it.

Everything hit her at once. The sight. The sound. The smell! The smell made her heave and the sight of the thing in the cauldron didn’t help her to keep her dinner down.

It was a thing she had no name for. She honestly hoped there was no name for it as it was a singular entity in the universe that no one else had ever come across or thought to exist. The creature, whatever it was, flailed at the bottom of the cauldron in a mix of filth and swill and blood which she believed was the source of the smell. It seemed to Harriet the creature didn’t like being there anymore than Harriet would have in its place. It struggled and fought and flapped in the liquid causing it to spray up the side of the cauldron and dirty the… thing further. It wasn’t just the struggling though. Its cry! The inhuman odd sound that came out of the thing’s mouth hurt not just Harriet’s ears but her head to hear it as it vacillated through pitches while moving from a wail to a screech to a sob to a moan. Harriet didn’t know how the thing could make a whimper let alone move about in the way it did. It was so malformed and emaciated it shouldn’t have the strength. That wasn’t even speaking of the wounds. The blood in the liquid was coming from flayed opened strips along the thing’s scarred and abused and diseased looking skin.

But as the initial moments of shock past, looking down on it Harriet couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for the creature. She couldn’t help but see the familiar in its features. It looked something like a baby almost, or a very old man. Naked and bald and so very skinny with its skin practically painted over its bones… Harriet couldn’t help but to see past the filth and other to a hint of humanity. Her heart went out to it as she could see that even though it was displaying an impressive will to live the small thing could do nothing to change its circumstances. She knew eventually its strength would wear out and what then?

‘It might just be another statue. It might not even be capable of feeling anything,” she told herself but even knowing that couldn’t stop her from trying to help.

Holding her breath Harriet reached into the cauldron to retrieve the creature from its predicament. Her help did not appear wanted as once it was touched the creature only fought and cried harder. It continued flailing and struggling and scratching all the way but still Harriet would not give up even if she did nearly throw up as she questioned just what might be getting into her blood stream through those cuts left by it’s little nails.

Once she had the creature out and into the air she tried bringing it to her chest hoping if it felt secure it would calm.

“There, there,” Harriet tried to sooth as she used her sleeve to wipe off the remains of its disgusting bath. She focused most on clearing the wounds. It was hard to go on comforting the creature with the smell but she forced herself to take another breath and keep on. “I’ve got you now. No need to cry.”

But still it fought her.

At this rate she was afraid it would do itself an injury. Adjusting her hold, Harriet tried to restrain the creature from moving. When it could no longer fight it started to tremble and its bizarre cry morphed into a croaking wail.

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” she told it worrying that she was lying. She was starting to panic as to what she could do to help.

But then the thing opened its eyes. Its very red, very human, very menacing eyes.

Harriet screamed as a horrible pain bloomed in her scar. She could feel the creature’s hate burning through her and knew she had made a mistake. This was not a thing to help but to run from. It tried to cling to her but Harriet ripped herself free, throwing it back in the cauldron where it belonged.

She had to get away. She knew she had to get away. Gripping her aching head Harriet stumbled ready to jump or fall off the base whichever was quickest to put distance between herself and the cauldron. Then suddenly an Expelliarmus hit her in the chest. Her wand was ripped from her hand. For a wild moment Harriet was confused as she could not remember drawing her wand in the first place, but then she was falling backwards and that thought was gone.

She barely had time to flail before a tight spinning jet of pale yellow nearly translucent magic was slamming into her stomach. Rather than simply falling she was sent flying, flipping, careening through the air parallel to the ground. Looking back she saw she was heading straight into her own statue with no way of slowing or softening the collision. Wrapping her arms around her head and neck she prepared for it.

A second spell whizzed past her head, leaving a buzzing in her ear. It flew on ahead to her statue. When the spell hit the cold lifeless ice was transfigured into living rough dark grey stone which took on the appearance of an angel of death. With surprising agility the statue snatched her out of the air to bring Harriet in, trapping her against its form. Restrained and wandless Harriet could only struggle fruitlessly and watch as the man who had attacked her emerged from behind the protection of the golden base on which she had been standing.

“Wormtail,” she hissed at the treacherous little man.

Either he didn’t hear her or the rat was simply ignoring her. Whichever the case Wormtail was focused on cowering from Nagini who was no longer a frozen statue but the snake herself. Slithering out of her protective coil she revealed bundles of kindling, herbs and other materials which had been bound together and placed under the cauldron to hold it up. With ease she slunk off of the base to the ground where she buried herself in the snow, disappearing from sight.

With the predator he feared having gone Wormtail produced a spell Harriet did not recognize which set the bundles alight with a roaring green flame which flickered up around the sides of the cauldron, turning the shining gold black with soot and soot in seconds. Once the flame was lit Wormtail pulled out a sheet of paper and laid it out before him. With all his focus on the words written there he proceeded with a ritual the likes of which Harriet had never seen before. As he chanted a design of eerily glowing magic sketched itself out above the cauldron.

It was a complex symmetrical thing surrounded by nested rings which filled with what looked like runic text. Harriet didn’t have long to study the design as no sooner was it completed then it dropped. Passing through the cauldron in its journey the mandala traveled down to join the flames underneath the cauldron. With the two occupying the same space and putting off competing green glows it was hard to differentiate them from one another.

Switching to English Wormtail imparted, “Bone of the father unwillingly given.”

At Harriet’s feet a bone floated out from the snow and through the air before splashing down into the cauldron.

“Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed.”

Turning his wand on himself Wormtail severed his hand from his body with a single spell. Screaming he fell to his knees. It was some seconds before he could compose himself enough to seal the wound. Harriet looked on him with disgust for the man who let his life come to such acts.

Still obviously in pain, Peter gathered his severed hand and with great trouble managed to climb onto the base. He dropped his pound of flesh into the cauldron before turning his eyes on her. Realizing she had stopped struggling Harriet started her efforts a new.

With his wand pointing directly at her Peter declared, “Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.”

Harriet couldn’t scream for the pain as her scar burst open. Blood dripped down her face from the once long healed wound before floating off to journey towards the cauldron… but there was something more than blood being pulled from her. Harriet could feel her body and magic exhausting with how much was being taken.

Closing her eyes Harriet looked at the world around her with her inner Sight. She could see the magic in the statue behind her that was keeping it in this form. She could see Nagini circling the cauldron’s base under the snow. She could see the magic that came from the snake and something else, something like the creature she had taken from the cauldron earlier only less formed living within Nagini. She could see Pettigrew and how his magic was working outside his body to take from her. She could see her own magic in her body and in the blood leaving her. She could see the threads, the tightly coiled threads her magic had transformed into. One for every drop of blood that was making its way through the air.

…She could see the magic at work in the cauldron. It was as inspiring as it was terrifying. Harriet had no context for what she was seeing. She hadn’t the education to understand it nor the vocabulary to describe it.

She watched as her blood combined with the potion in the cauldron changing everything. Suddenly the magic she was seeing took on another nature as the darkness and maliciousness was stripped away. This was no longer the dark ritual that was intended but instead of thing of good. The creature in the cauldron screamed, a man’s scream of pain and fury but the fury was quickly dying to be replaced by fear as the brew evolved to its new form. His body was attacked as this new magic sunk down into the very heart and soul to take hold of him. Beneath the cauldron the flames were extinguished as the mandala turned a sparking white with the changing of its design and purpose. Bathed in this new light the cauldron was transformed. Gone was its soiled black. In its place was crystal clear ice.

The ground became filled with magic as did the skies. From above small coiled threads like that which had been in her blood began drifting down. Closing her inner eye and looking up physically Harriet could see a golden sky stretched out above her with rainbow particles falling down form it to become snowflakes.

Looking ahead again the only thing out of place with the view was Peter Pettigrew, dirty and bloodied, and dark in her world of gold and cold. In a flash Nagini lunged up out of the snow at the man. See the large snake coming for his face Peter screeched and coward backwards. His body shrunk down to that of Scabbers in an attempt to get out of Nagini’s path. However there would be no escaping for him this time. Nagini was seeing to that. When the rat tried to run she gave chase. Catching up to him easily she snapped Wormtail up in her jaw, but, she did not swallow him down choosing instead to merely hold him prisoner in her maw.

Harriet smiled with satisfaction and pride in the snake as Nagini slithered over across the snow. As she came closer Harriet didn’t feel scared. She felt happy. Pointing out her foot from where it dangled she angled it towards the beautiful Nagini. Hissing happily the snake rose up until she could wrap around the offered foot and continued to circle her way up Harriet’s body.

“Mistress,” she greeted as she rubbed her head against the side of Harriet’s face.

Once she had comfortably draped herself over Harriet and the statue of Death they waited together watching through the clear sides of the cauldron in front of them. To human eyes it looked rather like a snow globe that had been all turned about. A great blizzard trapped in a bowl until suddenly a hand shot clear of it. The skin was still painted over the bone with little meat between but the pale scarred human flesh had been scrubbed clean. The fingers were growing becoming far too long and out of proportion with the palm. With the hand gripping the rim of the cauldron it continued to grow until it looked like an average human hand, only large. Very large.

When a second hand emerged to drip onto the rim as well, the cauldron began to frost over. As the clear surface became opaque the pale human skin darkened shifting towards blue in hue. With a mighty yank the two arms ripped the cauldron apart releasing the blizzard from its confines to spraying out at the world. For a time all Harriet could see was snow and fog and sparks of magic in the air but as it settled, a figure on a golden pedestal became clear. The creature was gone and in its place stood a man but not a human man. He was tall but growing taller still. Seven foot? Eight foot? Nine foot maybe? Harriet didn’t know. Taller than Dumbledore surely. Taller than any man she had ever seen besides Hagrid. When his growth finally began to stop ridges that almost looked like the result of ritual scarring grew out from the blue skin which covered all of his naked body.

What Harriet noticed most though was how his head was thrown back and his mouth clenched tight as he suffered with pain. She was glad he was no longer the creature he had been but she was sorry he had to suffer for it.

When finally the transformation was through Voldemort shuttered and fell to his hands and knees, his head dropping forward to hang loosely between his shoulders. He knelt there for some time panting as he recovered. When he finally did move it was to run his hand over his head only to stop as he felt his bald scalp and markings. Lowering the hand he placed it in front of his face to examine. Leaning back he sat on his shins so he could examine both his hands at once as well as his body. It let Harriet see his new eyes. They were still red but certainly not human. She liked them far better than what he’d had before.

Together Harriet and Nagini waited letting him have his time to adjust until finally he looked up to check his surroundings and spotted them. Immediately he tried to stand, to walk to them but he fell back to a knee before he could fully rise to his feet. He looked confused at his own inability and tried again, slower this time. Even with all the care he was taking he was awkward as he struggled to learn his new form but he carried on with persistence until he reached the half way point between the angel and his platform. There Harriet’s wand was lodged in the snow with the handle out. Crouching down Voldemort retrieved it, the brother to his own wand. With how dwarfed her wand was in his hand he looked like a father collecting his child’s toy. Eleven inches of holly looked absurd in his large hand, but it didn’t feel wrong to Harriet that he should wield it. With the barest flick of his wrist he brought the angel under his control. Under his command Harriet was lowered to stand under her own volition with Nagini brought down with her.

Once she had her footing Voldemort approached even more slowly than before. When he stood a step from her the giant lowered himself to his knees at her feet. Bowing his head in supplication he presented her wand to her on open palms. Cautiously she took it but there was no trick. Relieved of his burden Voldemort lowered his hands back to his sides. From there he did not move. He did not flinch. He did nothing against her, not that Harriet actually thought he would she realized with surprise.

“What now,” she asked.

He answered but the word leaving his mouth did not match the motion. Not only that but it was not his voice.

“Harriet.”

“Harriet,” Hermione said again gently giving her shoulder a shake.

Startling into wakefulness Harriet sat up to blinked at her friend in a panic.

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered apologetically. “But if you don’t start getting ready now, you’ll be let for your lesson.”

Looking around at the dark of the dorm room Harriet tried to figure out what was happening but before she could move too far into waking up Hermione was placing a journal in Harriet’s hands along with a quill.

Harriet looked down at the journal confused. What would she need this for?

Flipping it open she realized it was her dream journal which meant she must had had a dream she needed to record… didn’t it?

Closing her eyes Harriet tried to remember. There was a sense of being cold, well and truly, blessedly cold. It made her shiver in pleasure just remembering. Without opening her eyes she wrote out cold in her journal before pressing on to see what else she could remember. There were flashes of a snake and a rat and blue skin. ‘Voldemort’s return?’ she wrote alongside those three clues. She tried to think of anything else but couldn’t. Sighing she let herself open her eyes.

It was February and she was still forgetting her dreams. Six and half months of this and she still didn’t know why. Nothing she had tried so far allowed her to remember leaving Harriet woefully unsatisfied and itchy. Reaching up to she absently rubbed at her ear then neck but the gloves on her hands kept her from getting proper satisfaction.

She stared down at the disappointing entry in her journey for a few moments but as the itch spread over her body she set those problems aside to grab her wand and start her day. Besides her wand was her clock which told her it was already half past five in the morning. Setting aside her dream and her memory problem Harriet discarded the journal on her bed as she rushed to get started on her morning routine. She had training with Snape in fifteen minutes and being late would not be acceptable.

Harriet still didn’t know how to feel about her Professor. She was still suspicious of him but also grateful.

During the dementors’ attack on her and Dudley during the summer Harriet had been shocked when a doe helped her Hedwig patronus to fight them off. For a wild moment she’d expected to turn and see the ghost of her mother supporting her. Instead it was her Potions Professor rushing forward to put himself between her and the threat. Standing there she’d flashed back to the night they faced Moony when Snape had put himself between the werewolf and three of his most loathed students.

Once the dementors were gone Snape had turned on her demanding to know if she was hurt even as he cast diagnostic spells on her.

Harriet didn’t recall ever answering him.

“Dudley,” she’d called running over to her cousin.

“Potter,” Snape had shouted following after her.

It had been Snape who assured her Dudley would recover. It was also Snape who made her get her cousin up while he stood guard. She hadn’t trusted him to be there for the right reasons. She hadn’t been able to trust which side he was on given all the contradicting experiences she’d had with him over the years but then his patronus, the doe, had returned to him. He gave it a message to deliver to Dumbledore and some of Harriet’s worry faded. She had her issues with Dumbledore but she trusted that if Snape was willing to report then he was meant to be there.

“The girl has been attacked by dementors. She had to cast a patronus. Mundungus is gone. I am seeing her back to the house and would appreciated backup.”

The doe nodded at him before running off and condensing into a ball of light which zipped through the air. As it left it moved right past Mrs. Figg who had been standing there, staring in shock. Harriet had been worried she’d be getting in trouble for exposing magic to a muggle only for the first word out of Mrs Figg’s mouth to be a confused, “Snape?”

“Arabella,” Snape returned with less disdain then he usually used when speaking to people.

As the two order members escorted them back to the Dursleys' Harriet learned the truth about Mrs Figg and why Snape was there. The disdain with which he said the name Mundungus Fletcher, the man who was supposed to be watching her, was more in line with what Harriet expected of her Professor.

When they approached the house Snape sent Mrs Figg back to her own home before letting himself into the Dursleys'. He ushered Harriet in with Dudley first and then closed and spelled the door. While he was seeing to that Harriet worked to get Dudley to the livingroom so she could put him down. Once Petunia and Vernon got a look at Dudley the hysterics and accusations started. They were so focused on their son and blaming their niece that it took awhile for them to notice there was a black clad figure darkening the doorway. Petunia was the one to take notice of him first. Once she had her face moved quickly through surprise to fear to recognition and finished on disdain.

“You,” she seethed at him.

“Mrs, Dursley,” Snape sneered back.

It was then that Vernon got involved but in his way Snape managed to put both the elder Dursleys in their place before getting them moving to the kitchen. He left behind the instruction for Harriet to, “Get some chocolate into you both,” with a pointed look at the bowl of chocolate cover raisins Vernon had left on the side table.

Harriet had been all twisted up wondering how her Aunt knew her Professor when the Ministry’s owl arrived bringing word of her expulsion. After that there was plenty to distract her and time later to wonder about her Professor among other things.

Later, learning that Snape was in fact Dumbledore’s spy and needed to treat her badly to keep up his cover… Harriet had begun to doubt herself. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had the wrong of him all along. She couldn’t help seeing all their interactions through that lens of maybe, perhaps, but it just didn’t sit right. His diagnosis of Harriet’s condition in December had confirmed for her that she was right to be suspicious but the care he showed in his treatment and lessons made her doubt whether he was to be distrusted just because he wasn’t being completely honest.

‘Some things are worth lying for,’ Harriet thought thinking of Sirius and all she would do for him. But knowing that didn’t stop her not liking being lied to.

The night Snape told Harriet that her problems were being caused by Voldemort’s own condition Snape had ordered her to return the next day so he could instruct her in her care routine. When she arrived he sat her down and presented her with a practical crate of potions and products which he carefully explained while giving Harriet her instructions. Along with getting rid of all her clothes with synthetics or enchantments and trying to limit her consumption of certain foods Snape was insisting she switch out all of her previous toiletries for ones he had made as this way they could know all the ingredients and alter the formula until they had what suited her best. He also preferred these as he assured her she would be more likely to notice if anything had been tampered with.

Snape went on about initiating a stricter elimination diet once she was home for the summer and away from the attentions of others. Harriet could only imagine how the Dursleys would react to being told they needed to oblige her special needs. It would not go well. Harriet had no interest in going through the trouble when it didn’t seem like it should be necessary. If her condition was being caused by Voldemort’s why would stimuli in her to her body effect things?

Harriet’s suspicions of Snape only grew over the course of that meeting.

If he was lying to her about the diagnosis what else could he be lying about? What if none of the potions and things he was giving her did what he said. With her paranoia riled up and John’s words from his letters playing in her head that it was prudent and necessary that she look out for and stand up for herself Harriet decided to set down some conditions. She told Professor Snape that she would not be taking his potions or using anything he had made for her unless she was allowed to research it first and to see it made for herself. When John had been sending her things before Umbridge interfered, Hermione had tried insisting she do such things. Given that she trusted John Harriet had found it absurd and unnecessary. With Snape it seemed a prudent precaution.

She’d expected anger with talk of ingratitude and entitlement before being cast out of the room. At the least she expected a sneer. Instead Snape studied her seemingly testing her conviction by how well she held up under his stare before a hint of reluctant approval crept into his eyes.

“Very well Potter,” he said. Heading over to his desk he retrieved a quill and parchment. He took up over three feet with lists of what he had prescribed, what modifications he intended and suggested references for research. When he presented the roll to Harriet he told her, “Be prepared to brew the first six tomorrow evening.”

“… Sir,” Harriet asked confused by his willingness to indulge her.

“While I can provide you with what you need it would be more prudent that you make it for yourself. And I believe I can hope there will be less chance then that you will engage in folly if you fully understand what the repercussions will be. An added benefit will be that if you are asked you will be able to truthfully say you researched and made these things yourself. This protects my position as a spy for the Order. It would not look well if people learned I had such opportunities to do you harm but did not use them. ”

It sounded plausible but still as Harriet made her way to lunch she’d gathered items from her wolly bag to test if their was some deception she was missing. Her efforts spoke of none.

By the time she arrived at the Great Hall Umbridge was ordering the doors closed. Harriet was only just able to slip through along with a few other students as the hall was sealed.

Hermione sighed with relief as Harriet sat herself next to Ron who asked, “Cutting it a bit close aren’t you?”

Under Umbridge’s edicts it was the duty of house Perfects to check which students were and were not at meals at the time the doors closed. With attendance of meals now required it was a detention for all those who did not have an ‘acceptable’ excuse for not being there. Those Umbridge didn’t feel warranted her own personal bloody brand of punishment she sent to Filch who was all to eager to use the new options The Toad made available to him. Options which had previously been against school rules. It was the duty of Hermione, Neville, and the other Perfects to inform The Toad if anyone was missing. Most of them hated having to be the ones to report students to Umbridge to receive detentions.

After giving a look over the table to double check Hermione looked to the other Perfects up the line and gave them a nod with Neville doing the same. With Harriet having made it everyone was accounted for. They would not be having to put The Toad on the hunt for one of their own Lions for this meal.

Looking around Harriet was able to see Luna and Cedric along with the others in the D.A. were all accounted for. With great relief she settled in to wait with the others for the food to arrive which would not happen until all houses reported to Umbridge. From there the meal would not commence until every student was accounted for and those not with a suitable excuse were brought to the Great Hall. It worked well for turning students against one another if someone delayed the meal. Unlike in the past food was only available for the set meal time. If the meal was delayed the lunch period was not extended. For a time people had gotten around it by going directly to the kitchens or taking food out of the Great Hall when the meal was over, until Umbridge banned both options.

Kids were relying on care packages and what things they bought and brought more than ever. The twins and a few others were making quite the business of procuring and selling food stuffs. Those like Harriet and Ron who were in the throws of growing gave them a good deal of business as what they were getting from meals just wasn’t enough. Dobby had begun helping the students in secret by leaving snacks in their dorms and common rooms. With all the teachers saying they hadn’t ordered it Umbridge had gone to the elves to demand they not deliver food to the children. Dobby however, as an employ of Dumbledore, did not have to listen to her.

Sitting with her friends as they waited Harriet caught them up on her meeting with Snape and asked for their help getting the research done. Between classes and homework and then the D.A. Harriet simply wouldn’t have the time on her own. As Hermione was already invested in treating Harriet and wanted to learn what Snape was prescribing she readily agreed to help. Neville was equally willing and Ron also even if he did pout about it. The twins and Ginny who were sitting with them agreed to lend themselves as well. With all the extra support Harriet was able to relax and enjoy her meal without worrying about how she would get it all done.

Later, when classes were done for the day, Luna showed up in the library to help even though neither Harriet nor anyone else had the chance to ask her.

“It’s creepy you realize,” Ron remarked while snacking on a jelly slug. “Having the two of you around just knowing things. It makes people worried nothings secret.”

“It’s called being a Seer Ron. The casualty of which is a certain measure of clairvoyance,” Harriet countered reaching over to steal a slug. Giving her an outraged look he tried to slap it out of her hand but missed. Smirking in victory Harriet chomped down on her slug taunting him, “Better luck next time Mr Keeper.”

Reaching out Ginny snatched one for herself as well which Ron tried to get back but could not before it was popped into her mouth.

“You really should work on your reflexes if you want Gryffindor to keep up our winning streak,” his sister told him solemnly while she chewed.

“Honestly,” Hermione said shaking her head. “Why must you all talk with your mouths full?”

Choosing to join in on the fun Neville snagged a slug for himself leaving Ron with only one left. He’d eaten the majority himself but the devastated look on his face made Harriet feel giving. Reaching into her bag she pulled him out the bag of toffeed nuts John had sent her and tossed them to Ron.

“Cheers,” he thanked her happily only to frown as Hermione held out her hand wanting some for herself.

Together their group got the research along with their homework done in time to be down in the Great Hall for dinner before heading out to make their way to the D.A.

The next day in Potions class looking Harriet directly in her eye Snape sabotaged her potion. As well as a hundred points being taken from Gryffindor she was given detention every night till Christmas even though he knew she wouldn’t be here to serve them all as she would be leaving at the start of Christmas break. Harriet was certain it was all a cover for the brewing she’d demanded. She could have lived with the detentions but the point taking seemed excessive and petty at the time. As Neville pointed out, anything less and they would have been surprised so Snape was likely keeping cover but still Harriet was not pleased with it.

That night when she went to serve her detention she arrived to find her Potions Professor looking oddly at ease. He directed her to one of the tables and stood at the one in front of it across from her. He ordered her to set up her work station while he set up his own. While they worked he questioned her about her symptoms and habits over the course of the last two days and told her off for eating so many sweets between meals. When they were finished setting up their stations he asked about her research, questioning her thoroughly while reviewing her notes and making suggestions as to what she should look into later as to fill gaps in her knowledge.

They then settled in to their routine for the night. Snape brewed first explaining every step as he went and it would be down to Harriet to brew it after him. Twice. After two successful brewings they would move on. To Harriet shock there wasn’t a bad batch in the lot. They were by no means as perfect as Snape’s but she felt she had done herself proud with her efforts. After each acceptable batch Snape would award her ten points. By the end of the night she had recovered what he’d taken in class and yearned Gryffindor an extra twenty points beyond it.

With the brewing done he put her through a review of what she learned while Harriet bottled the last batch and cleaned her station. He informed her that what she had would provide for the basics of a daily regime over the next month which he expected her to stick to. When her supply was running low she would brew it again under his supervision. He expressly prohibited her from brewing on her own.

“I do not wish to learn you or your friends have been brewing in the girl’s lavatory again,” he said with a pointed look, revealing that he knew something about what had been going on in Moaning Myrtle’s domain during their second year. At Harriet’s surprised expression Snape smirked. It was almost a sneer but he seemed to catch himself in time and changed it. Harriet couldn’t tell. Was the sneer force of habit or a natural reaction he was choosing to hide? “We may not all be gifted with ‘the Sight’ Potter, but there are others means to getting answers. Such as where potion ingredients disappear to from my stores.”

After a weighted silence Snape brought their first lesson to an end. “Detention concluded. Dismissed.”

Nodding Harriet gathered her things and headed for the door. She almost made it. Almost, but rather like Sirius she didn’t seem entirely capable of stopping herself from doing something she knew was foolish.

“Sir,” she asked turning back around.

The ease Snape had at the start of their lesson was gone. In the moment he just looked worn. “Yes, Potter.”

“In the last few hours I’ve learned more about potion ingredients and the fundamentals of potion making than I have in the past four and a half years of classes.” Honestly given the way he was acting it was hard to believe she was dealing with the same Potions Master she’d come to know and despise since her first year. Which is why she couldn’t help but to ask, “If you can teach so well why don’t you in your lessons?”

This time Snape did sneer. “Twenty-five points from Gryffindor Miss Potter and fifteen minutes until curfew. I will see you tomorrow after dinner. I expect you to be prepared.”

Taking the points, the sneer, and the warning all seemed rather Snapey but still, once Harriet was out in the halls she found a secluded nook and pulled out the Maunders’ map just to be certain she was dealing with the real Snape and not a look alike as it had been with Moody. With how amicable he’d been since the summer and the odd readings and feelings she’d been getting off of him she would not have been surprised to see another name in the classroom, but there was only Severus Snape.

Once Harriet was safely in bed for the night she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about the Professor’s behavior. She used every trick in her wolly bag to try and divine if maybe he was possessed or being controlled in some way but all signs pointed toward Snape having sanctity of self except for a few vows the nature of which were hidden from her and a life debt… to her… which made no sense to Harriet at all. Rather than giving her answers she found herself with only more questions. She was so irritated and itchy and unsettled that she had to sneak off to the Room of Requirement just to get some sleep.

Harriet tried getting answers from Professor Snape over their week of detentions and into Winter break at 12 Grimmauld Place. The only answer he would give was that she had inherited the life debt from her father. It was Sirius who told her the story when she asked and she wasn’t happy with him at all especially when he tried to treat it like it had just been a prank. A boyhood prank.

As predicted Sirius was not pleased that Snape was giving Harriet private lessons. He liked even less that in only a week these lessons had caused trouble between him and Harriet by stirring up the past. What he liked least was Snape having a claim on time during Harriet’s holiday which brought him to Grimmauld Place and took away from when goddaughter and godfather could spend time together. He had no say in stopping the lessons and how they went at Hogwarts, but under his roof he put his foot down that he would be sitting in.

“I thought you were supposed to be teaching her Occlumency,” Sirius said accusatorially when the second day was going the same as the first with Snape trying to figure out what all would effect Harriet’s condition, for better and for worse. Every step of the way Snape explained what they were doing and why, with Sirius chiming in where he could as well. It was providing Harriet with interesting lessons on the body, magical theory, and healing magics but her godfather had a point that it was doing nothing to help her protect her mind.

Snape sneered at Sirius. “Occlumency is a skill beyond most adults. Grown men fail to master the art.” There was a sneer at Sirius who himself had little talent for it himself. “How do you expect her to succeed when she is thoroughly distracted?”

Rather proving his point he reached out to stop Harriet who had started rubbing at her wrist.

In between the fun parts of the holiday like visiting John, decorating, and having a day out with her friends Harriet’s break was spent with Snape running tests on her, meditating, and learning emotional control exercises but mostly, lots and lots of tests with Sirius throwing in his two cents as he worked on enchanting Harriet’s things with stronger cooling charms since he didn’t trust Snape to do it and Harriet couldn’t being underage and out of school.

Once break was over and she was back at Hogwarts Snape claimed her nights for the detentions she had missed while being away. Seeing Harriet under the thumb of someone else who by all reports she hated and was hated by in return seemed to ease appease Umbridge somewhat, but as pleased as The Toad was with it for a time she must have missed torturing Harriet herself as on the last night of Snape’s claim Umbridge was waiting to hold her up from getting back to the Gryffindor Tower. She gave Harriet detention for being out past curfew even though she wouldn’t have been late if not for Umbridge.

Snape was not pleased when he heard. He was waiting for her down the hall the next night after her detention with Umbridge as he had every time before and since. He led her down to his quarters where he treated her hand while asking for the truth as to what had happened the night before. When he learned of the reason for her punishment he presented her with a solution for the future. He gave Dobby permission if asked to ferry students where they needed to go on school grounds whether that was bringing Harriet to her private lessons, returning students to their dorms, or bringing members of a certain club to their meetings in the Room of Requirement. Harriet didn’t know whether to be more surprised over Snape knowing about the D.A. or that he was helping.

Having Dobby to ferry them around was a godsend. Harriet was finally able to believe they could make it through the whole year without Umbridge catching them. To help further get Umbridge off their backs and calm some of the D.A’s nerves they put on a show like the group had disbanded out of fear of Umbridge’s growing power. While they walked around with some looking resentful or sad and some relieved, the smugness Umbridge exuded was sickening. The Toad was so, so pleased with herself and found a way to give detentions to all those she suspected of having been a part of the group to make certain the lesson stuck. It got Harriet so worked up it tested the limits of the control Snape’s care regime provided her.

Three times a day Harriet took two potions with booster doses to got her through classes when her emotions got the better of her or something simply triggered the itch too badly. In the morning she had to take a cold, cold shower or bath using only the new toiletries she was making for herself. The tooth paste was alright but everything else came with some downfall. The scent of the shampoo irritated her nose, the conditioning hair mask that was meant to help her scalp made the itch worse before it made it better, the body wash smelled like Mrs Figg’s house, and the elixir she had to apply all over her body after the shower had the consistency of chunky slime until it was completely rubbed in. All of it was worth putting up with though as together they were helping. Harriet could sleep through the night without injuring herself and could make it through the day without feeling like she’d go insane if she didn’t nip off for a swim in the Room of Requirement. Though she did still visit most days. While Snape’s treatment helped with the itch and her emotions her swims helped with her growing pains and restlessness in a way nothing he tried could.

Monday and Friday night Snape would help her with her ‘occlumency training’ though from her research Harriet could not see any actual training in his lessons. He was helping her learn to meditate and have ‘some self-control’ but he wasn’t teaching her anything about the mind arts, nor was he encouraging her to selfstudy. Wednesday evenings were her health check as well as brewing lessons. Even when she was fully stocked Snape had taken to having her brew something. Harriet was learning so much in these lessons she didn’t think to complain that potion making had nothing to do with protecting her from Voldemort.

In class she was brewing near perfect potions which irritated Hermione as she was following what Snape had taught her during his tutoring rather than following the recipes from their textbook. Hermione’s opinion of the Professor dropped when she realized he teaching the rest of them substandard techniques even if those were the techniques in the Ministry approved text. They all quite enjoyed hearing her be the one to rant about Snape for once.

As useful as potion lessons were by far Harriet’s favorite training came on Saturday and Sunday mornings when Snape worked on her spell casting and defense training.

It being Valentine’s Day did not afford her off from their lessons. A Saturday was a Saturday and so Harriet had to rush through her morning routine to get ready. She brushed her teeth, held her breath through washing her hair and body, tolerated the hair mask, and then dealt with the elixir after. Getting dressed in her training gear she ran back into the room to grab her wolly bag and invisibility cloak. With Lavender and Parvati still sleeping Harriet made a stop for a whispered goodbye with Hermione who was sitting on her bed reading before running back to the bathroom. With the door shut behind her Harriet called out quietly for Dobby.

“Good morning Miss Harriet,” he greeted her in a soft whisper.

“Good morning Dobby. How was your day off,” she asked.

The little house elf lit up with excitement, “Dobby bought new socks,” he declared sticking out his leg to show her. They were bright pink with stylized hearts that moved about while expanding and contracting like they were beating.

“Very festive,” Harriet complimented him with a smile.

Dobby beamed. “Is Miss Harriet ready to be going to her lessons?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harriet asked. Even if she knew he wouldn’t she also knew he liked being asked.

With Dobby assuring her he never minded Harriet crouched down and covered the two over them with the her invisibility cloak. She then took his hand and they were off in an instant to the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls.

“Thanks Dobby,” she told him in a whisper. The halls were dead quiet as it was still so early. Even whispering seemed loud.

“Harriet Potter is most welcome,” Dobby told her before heading back to his normal morning duties.

Making three sweeps along the corridor Harriet imagined the space where she and Snape trained until the Room of Requirement revealed itself. Slipping inside she entered a large familiar hall with tall vaulted ceilings and little else as Snape liked to have the room empty unless he called for supplies. Taking off her invisibility cloak Harriet stashed it in her wolly bag before placing the pouch next to the door. Taking only her wand she headed out to the center of the room to start warming up as Snape had taught her. This mostly consisted of practicing her footwork while casting spells. Snape wasn’t happy that Harriet stopped so often during a fight in order to cast. He wanted her to be able to keep moving while fighting. Thankfully Harriet had more skill with this foot work then she did dancing.

Defense had been Harriet’s best subject until she started divination. She had always been good at the practicals but it required work. She didn’t get a Patronus on the first try, not even in the first day, and her corporeal patronus hadn’t come until she’d seen its form through her gift. Once she knew she could do it and what it should be summoning her patronus had been easier but still took effort. Her training with Snape was nothing like that. Everything seemed to come easily. Like breathing. It all flowed out of her like she was doing something as familiar as tying her shoes. While Snape was a good teacher he wasn’t doing anything so far from the ordinary that it should have made such a difference. Harriet thought perhaps she’d been dreaming of her training and though she couldn’t recall the experiences they were still in her head, helping her. It was the only explanation unprecedented leaps and bounds with which she was progressing.

Harriet had been warming up for some minutes on her own before Snape arrived.

“Potter,” he greeted.

“Professor,” Harriet returned.

Chapter Text

Harriet lay on the floor panting and holding onto her side. She was still struggling to deal with spells that didn’t travel in an expected path. Even with all her improvement spells which could arc or curl or swing back around slipped past her defenses. After an hour of Snape only using standard straight trajectory spells she’d gotten complacent. She hadn’t been watching her back and so when Snape’s curse boomeranged back instead of colliding with the wall as she’d expected, she was hit.

“Potter,” Snape asked seeing the grimace of pain on her face.

Leveraging herself up onto her knees Harriet assured him, “I’m alright. I’m alright.”

Not willing to take her word for it Snape cast a diagnostic spell. At the results he gave her an unimpressed look. “Generally one does not consider fractured ribs under the classification of ‘alright.’”

Harriet was surprised to hear they were actually fractured. She hadn’t thought it was that severe but as she tried shifting it did hurt rather badly. Cradling her side she couldn’t help wondering how long it would take her ribs to heal on their own given just how quickly she’d been healing lately, but her curiosity wasn’t a good enough excuse to leave them how they were. If someone went after her while she was healing it would put her at a disadvantage she might not be able to afford.

Snape made quick work of seeing her ribs set right.

“Thank you Sir,” Harriet told him sincerely.

With a single nod Snape accepted her thanks before turning to look at the clock above the door. “I think that will be all for the day.”

Harriet checked the time as well. It was quarter to eight. Usually she would have argued for the extra fifteen minutes but with all she had to do that day she decided to go along with it.

Snape held out his hand to her and Harriet took his help in getting up to her feet.

“Same time tomorrow Sir,” she asked.

“As always Miss Potter.”

Together they made their way over to the door. As they walked Harriet couldn’t stop herself from asking, “How is Mrs. Malfoy doing Sir?”

“The Dark Lord continues to mostly ignore her while focusing his displeasure on her home and husband.”

Harriet nodded.

“And Draco Sir?”

Snape hesitated to answer. “He is coping.”

Harriet frowned at that.

She didn’t think she could ever forget the little git Draco had been and all the wrong and hate he had embraced but she couldn’t help feeling badly for both him and his mother. She didn’t know what exactly it was that made her feel this way. The Dark Lord returning was seemingly all they’d wanted. She could still remember the charged anticipation from Slytherin house at the end of the previous school year when word got around that the Dark Lord was back but they didn’t yet understand what that would mean. Draco in particular had worn a victorious smirk whenever he met her eye, and yet she had this awful sense of guilt about his situation. She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn’t her fault Voldemort was back but sometimes feelings didn’t fall in line with fact even for a Seer. She’d tried scrying to better understand why she was feeling the way she was but it hadn’t helped.

“Tomorrow Potter,” Snape said opening the door.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Professor.”

She thought for a moment Snape might return the sentiment as he paused in the doorway but instead he carried on without a word. Rolling her eyes Harriet gave Snape time to clear the corridor before she donned her invisibility cloak and headed out. Finding that no one was around she called for Dobby who returned her to her bed in the dorms. Once he had departed Harriet shed her invisibility cloak and drew the bed curtains to find Lavender and Parvati up and moving about.

“Morning Harriet,” Lavender welcomed as she finished braiding her hair.

“Good workout,” Parvati asked.

‘Working out’ was the excuse Harriet used to explain where she got off to so often. Since all of the D.A. knew she’d been escaping to the Room of Requirement to swim it was easy for them to accept that this was what she was still doing.

“Yes, thanks,” Harriet replied on reflex while looking around the room. “Hermione already gone?”

“She’s checking all the young ones are up and ready,” Lavender explained. Crinkling up her nose she asked, “You aren’t wearing that for your interview are you?”

Harriet looked down at her clothes. She didn’t think her training wear was that atrocious. If it was a normal day down in the village she wouldn’t have minded leaving it on but given her plans for the day they really wouldn’t do. “Would you two mind picking something out for me?”

Parvati was eager for the opportunity but Lavender was torn between seeing to her own makeup as she had a date that day. Though once she saw the fun Parvati was having she couldn’t help but to join in. By the time they were done with her Harriet had an outfit of a red dress with tights, comfortable slip-ons with a hint of a heel, jewelry, headband, and the long coat Sirius had gotten her for Christmas. Surprisingly though it was red, it was not Gryffindor colors. Instead of lions or her father’s stag Sirius had the coat embellished with silver owls to represent Harriet’s patronus. She’d been very touched by the thoughtfulness and took to wearing the coat whenever the chance presented itself.

Once Harriet had it all on she gave a twirl and asked, “Photoshoot ready?”

“Not with that hair,” Parvati said coming at her armed with Sleekeaszy and a brush. By the time Harriet’s mane was sleek and smooth they needed to be heading down to the Great Hall. Parvati brought the brush along with them so that once they were seated waiting for breakfast to begin she could set to work on plaiting Harriet’s hair to her satisfaction.

As Parvati worked the hall buzzed with chatter as people looked forward to the Hogsmeade trip but the moment Umbridge arrived that buzz died down. Seeing the effect she had on them all Umbridge down right preened as she made her way to the head table. Harriet entertained herself through the meal by thinking of all the pranks she might have played on Umbridge if she and the twins hadn’t sworn off doing so in order to present themselves as having been demoralized by the might of their toad of a High Inquisitor. When imagining pranks stopped working she thought of Umbridge's face when she got a look at the next publication of the Quibbler. That was enough to have Harriet smiling through the rest of the meal and the queue to sign in with Filch.

While waiting she spotted Cedric standing on his own facing straight ahead. Some ways behind him Cho stared longingly at the back of his head despite Roger Davies, her date for the day standing at her side. The pair had broken up over the Christmas break and while Cho was still pining Cedric was still sore over how she had defended her parents speaking down on him when he’d gone to pick her up for their date as well as the general lack of support Cho had given him since last June. With him and Cho no longer together in Cedric was still having to stand alone in public against the world. At least he had the D.A. to boost and support him in private. Cedric spent his days daydreaming of dropping out of Hogwarts and moving to France. He swore the only thing getting him through and keeping him from doing anything drastic were their meetings.

While seemingly all of the school despised Umbridge it didn’t all together translate into a distrust of the Ministry. People still weren’t willing to believe that Voldemort was back despite the many stories and rumors that were being marginalized by the Prophet. Yes, Death Eaters had been broken out of Azkaban but that was months back at the start of the summer and nothing had been heard from them since. The Ministry assured the public that it was the work of Sirius Black and believed the escapees had traveled overseas. While that was concerning for most people they preferred to embrace out of sight, out of mind then to consider other possibilities.

Werewolves and Vampires and other dark creatures disappearing or being found dead? ‘Infighting and really is it such a loss.’ Most felt it was reason to sleep better at night not something to panic over.

Mysterious illnesses and disappearances? They lived surrounded by magic. ‘Strange things are always happening.’

Some break-ins and thefts? ‘Well it’s a reminder to lock your doors and spell your home,’ but generally people trusted the Aurors would get those responsible in the end.

Harriet understood why people were hesitant to believe. She did, but she hadn’t even lived through the previous war and she knew that many of these things had happened at the start of Voldemort’s first campaign. Couldn’t people remember? Shouldn’t they at least be preparing for the possibility rather than burying their heads in propaganda? Some were coming around though. Seamus’ mother had changed her tune. Harriet just had to hope others would too.

Harriet tried to shake off her gloomy mood. It was a good day, a holiday with big plans ahead. It wouldn’t do for her to bring herself down, she thought with conviction. There was a slight itch under her right eye but she focused on the conversation going on in the carriage and as soon as she was distracted the itch didn’t matter. Left alone and unnoticed it soon passed.

When they arrived at the Hogsmeade Hermione wanted to go straight for Tomes and Scrolls before the other students cleared out the latest releases and the best of the new secondhand stock. The twins and the rest of the boys bar Neville decided to split off and go to Zonko’s instead. With Lavender already off on her date Padma was able to coerce Parvati into going along rather than striking out on their own but they lost Ginny to Spintwitches Sporting Needs along the way.

Faced with the crowds and tight isles of Tomes and Scrolls staying together as a group of six wasn’t an option.

“The usual routine,” Harriet asked.

The rest nodded in agreement before dividing off to head for their preferred sections. Parvati and Padma cut a path for Fiction and Romance where some others were already gathered twittering around a display. Neville had some competition from a few NEWT students in the herbology section but he patiently fitted his way in. Hermione made a beeline for the store clerk at the register despite the customer he was checking out. Once she had gotten a recommendation as to what was in she would do her usual sweep of the store. Meanwhile Luna and Harriet headed to the little punched out room at the back of the store where the literature belonging to the less popular and more niche subjects were kept, including divination. It happened to be Harriet and Luna’s favorite portion of Tomes and Scrolls as there was always something interesting to find but rarely many other costumers willing to take the time to look. The others knew to meet them there when they had finished so they could check out as one order. It meant working out who owed what but it did save them an awful lot of time in line as they traded off on who would wait.

Standing side by side Harriet and Luna started tackling the first bookcase in their little treasure hunt. Being taller Harriet started scanning from the top while Luna being the shorter of the pair squatted down to start with the titles on the lower shelves. Together they would work until they meet in the middle and move on from there. Despite never having negotiated this system they had fallen into it and stuck with it since their first visit together. Carefully they would read each title and pull out the books to check over those that lacked text on the spine or whose authors weren’t explicit in their naming. Thankfully the Wizarding world publishers mostly made certain you knew exactly what the book was about even if it left their titles a mouthful.

Harriet snorted as she came across a familiar collection stacked together on top of the bookcase.

“Lockhart,” Luna asked.

“The gold-plated twat,” Harriet answered in agreement.

Maybe his classes would have been less of a headache to get through if she’d been distracted by his ‘good’ looks but sadly Harriet unlike what seemed at the time to be all the other girls at Hogwarts had never been enamored with the five time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award. She still grit her teeth when she thought about how often the braggart went on about that. She had not been heartbroken when they learned he was a fraud nor did she feel any guilt about the state he’d ended up in. As far as Harriet was concerned loosing all his memories gave him a fresh start which was probably better than he deserved. It was his victims Harriet felt sorry for. With Lockhart’s memory erased so was any chance for him to admit to his crimes. He would never face a trial, the true participants would never be acknowledged, and they would never see a share of his earnings. Every knut was his to keep. His books were no longer toted as must read best sellers but they were still for sale for him and the publishers to profit on which steamed Harriet right off.

“New or used,” Luna asked sounding much calmer than Harriet was feeling.

Harriet pulled out a copy to check. “Used.”

“Probably a student’s than. They were rather expensive at the time. Its good to know they got at least some of their investment back,” Luna said reasonably.

Harriet took a glance her way and saw she was reading the back of a volume. “Anything good,” she asked going back to her own search.

“The History and Ethics of the Abominable Practice of Sorcery.”

Harriet frowned. Her first experience with sorcery was the night of Voldemort’s resurrection. At the time she did not understood what she was seeing. Sorcery was not taught or even referenced at Hogwarts, not even in History of Magic. It was only when she was describing it later during her accounts of the night that Dumbledore had been able to identify and explain to the room what she had seen. Fudge reacted to the news by throwing his hands in the air and declaring it preposterous. He said that the practices were dead and forgotten, cleansed from their society. Given what else their Minister was willing to ignore Harriet wondered just how far from dead sorcery was.

“Set it aside for me,” she asked Luna.

“Already done.”

They continued on in silence after that, only speaking to announce a title they’d found and asked if the other was interested or if they thought one of their friends might be.

“How to Have the Allure of a Veela for Lavender and Parvati,” Luna asked.

“…Maybe. I’ll have a look,” Harriet replied. If nothing else, if the price was right she thought the title alone might make it a good gag on Hermione given how she’d taken the boys’ reactions to the Delacours and the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup.

Picking out a foreign language text Harriet flipped it open. She hadn’t a clue what it was about but the illustrations showed all sorts of creatures she had never seen the likes of. Holding it down to Luna she said, “German I think.”

Taking the book Luna gave the cover a look over. “German,” she confirmed setting it aside.

As they continued to work their way through the selection available they came across titles ranging from dull to mildly interesting to extremely curious including Rudimentary Quill Making, An Englishman’s Guide to the Wizarding Settlements of the East, The Principles of Protecting Yourself For the Muggle Born Witch or Wizard, Recognizing Wand Woods and What They Say About Their Wizards, Dementors: Where Did They Come From, 1,007 Kinds Of Eggs and 10,107 Interesting Uses For Them, and Multiple Realities: A World Without Shrimp?

Sadly their was nothing new in regard to Divination on offer. Harriet got her hopes up when she came across a novel called The Seer’s Sire but it turned out to be a Murder Mystery with a fraud Seer as its victim, having been killed for spreading baseless slander which she claimed was divined truth. Just the kind of stereotypes Harriet wanted perpetuated in the world. Going up on her tiptoes she’d placed the book behind the Lockhart collection, hidden in the back with the face against the wall hoping it would be years before it might be found.

Seeing what else the case had to offer Harriet realized there was a surprising number of fiction there, far more than they were used to seeing in their little cove. It was only then she spotted the sign alerting customers that due to overflow the store’s second hand fiction selection had been placed there while the main selection could still be found in its typical location. Well, Harriet supposed it was worth continuing to look though she wasn’t too enthused. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to read fiction but it was hard for her to find books she actually enjoyed so she rarely bothered. Too often she found what was presented as good and right to be flawed and in some cases deeply troubling.

“Is this muggle,” Luna asked holding up a book, The Return Of The King to Harriet.

“I think so,” Harriet said. It was more the design of the cover that made her suspect rather than any familiarity with it. She thought she might remember a classmate reading it and the teacher being unhappy for some reason? Giving it a hard think she thought that was right. It had been Mitch Thompson and Miss Veer hadn’t approved because the book was about magic. Looking back it really wasn’t surprising that Miss Veer judgmental and prone to anger as she was had gotten on so well with the Dursleys. Now that Harriet knew she had in fact been responsible for it, she was very proud to have turned the woman’s wig blue.

“It’s about magic I think? Hermione might be able to tell you about it,” Harriet suggested since she couldn’t recall anything more about the story.

Luna nodded and set it on the pile they had set aside for Hermione in the center of the room next to the pile for Neville and another for the Patil twins.

A few minutes later Harriet was examining three copies of The Tales Of Beedle the Bard which Luna recommended to her as they were something most wizarding children grew up reading. One copy looked brand new and for this quality it demanded a higher price. The next copy was showing its age but the illustrations were stunning and had been respelled by the shop owner to be animated like new. Because there was damage even the shop with their expertise couldn’t repair the price was less than the first but not by much. The last and by far the cheapest was a pocket sized copy with no illustrations and very small print.

While weighing the merit of which to get Harriet felt a prickle of awareness rise up. It was the feeling of someone watching her only it didn’t feel ominous. It felt welcomed.

Closing her eyes Harriet focused on opening her inner eye and carefully directing it out to see just who was watching her.

***

Things were going well for Voldemort. His nights were spent dreaming with Harriet and Nagini while he spent his days enacting his plans to great success. But how could he not succeed when there was no one to work against him? Once Dumbledore stood as his opponent but no longer. The old fool thought they were playing chess but it was far from the truth. Voldemort was putting on a show with all the puppets unaware of exactly what he was moving them towards.

Descending into the Malfoys’ well occupied dungeon Voldemort smiled at the vermin around him who coward back from the bars in fright. Levitating behind him was the latest to be added to his collection. One unconscious Mudungus Fletcher.

Dumbledore with his hopes of redemption and preaching of second chances had earned Fletcher’s loyalty by saving him from a long stint in Azkaban which likely would have cost him his life or at least his good health. Fletcher did not commit any truly heinous crimes himself but he helped others who did and protected those contacts who lined his pockets and watched his back in return. If Dumbledore had allowed the man to go to trial he would have sung like the opportunist he was divulging his secrets, including all the corrupt officials who helped him with his work. The world would have been a better place for this, but no, Dumbledore had a use for the man in his pursuit for his ‘greater good’ and so Fletcher had been allowed to continue to operate as he had before only having to report to Dumbledore what information he came across which pertained to the war.

Fletcher may have spent decades escaping justice but now it had come for him in the form of the Dark Lord himself. He would be Voldemort’s guest in the Malfoys' dungeon. Arguably a far superior fate to that of Azkaban. He would share all he knew while suffering for his crimes, not the least of which was failing to guard Harriet as he was expected to. Unfortunately Fletcher would not be experiencing a dementor’s presence as Harriet had been forced to. If the Ministry was to remain complacent Voldemort needed the dementors to stay at their posts.

Undoubtedly the Order would think Fletcher’s disappearance was due to his being a member but given his illicit activities they couldn’t be certain he hadn’t suffer a consequence from his business dealings. They wouldn’t be wrong to doubt. Ironically Voldemort had only been able to pin the thief down because of his selling artifacts belonging to the Black Family line. Dark artifacts which Voldemort suspected Sirius Black had been looking to get rid of but whether he had given them to Fletcher to sell or not Voldemort did not know. Either way it was a lead to the Order’s headquarters that in another life Voldemort would have thrilled over but as it was he only cared as it was a place the Order could use to make Harriet inaccessible to him.

If luck was on his side the loss of Fletcher would prompt Dumbledore into recruiting John to help inflate their waning numbers, but if not it hardly mattered. Voldemort had time to win them over. He was invested in the long game. Eventually they would trust John. Eventually they would stop trying to keep him away from Harriet.

Bringing Fletcher to the last cell at the end of the hall Voldemort chained him next to several other thieves and smugglers, the business associates which made Fletcher a target of his in the first place. Voldemort left him there otherwise free to move and speak. He had no concerns about his prisoners conversing to one another. Let them warn the man. Let him know exactly what he should expect for the duration of his stay.

Leaving the Dungeon behind Voldemort traveled back through the manor to his quarters. His work as the Dark Lord was done for the moment. It was time for him to returned to the Leaky Cauldron as John had places to be and a cousin to support.

The Ministry was making a point of drawing out John’s screening process, delaying his access to Residency Rights. Without them he was not legally permitted to take up even semi-permanent lodgings forcing him to continue renting a room week by week. While it delayed some of his plans Voldemort was grateful for it. The struggle and persisting through the obstacles the Ministry were setting in his way would make John more sympathetic and admirable in the eyes of others.

Arriving in his room at Diagon Ally Voldemort quickly worked to make himself presentable. Heading to the bathroom he eyed his hair in the mirror. He desperately wanted to style it properly but the more wild it looked the more Potter people associated him to be. Using an eyedropper he applied a color changing potion to his irises. Voldemort had enlisted Snape into helping him to create this for his purposes. Wizards had mostly failed to make any advances when it came to the human eye and sight with transfigurations of the eye being what most people relied upon and avoided due to the risks. The effect of this potion was not only safe and temporary, but subtle. His eyes were still green but shaded more towards hazel, away from the distinct shade Harriet had inherited from her mother.

With that seen to he was free to move on to dressing himself. The style of his robes was distinctly American but they were of a quality and fit Voldemort could approve of. He took his time in making certain he everything was as it should look to be before collecting all his packages along with his camera which was all stowed away in an expanded pouch which he placed into a hidden pocket in the lining of his outer robes. Separately he hid his portkey. Everything else in the room he could afford to leave behind and risk being discovered in a search but not that.

Heading off down to the dining room there was regrettably time to make conversation with Tom at the bar until Lupin arrived from the alley.

“John,” Remus greeted with a polite smile.

“Mister Lupin,” Voldemort returned with a more genuine smile which he called forward by remembering that he would be seeing Harriet soon. In the past when he needed to force a look of genuine pleasure or fondness he imagined far darker things. He’d never understood why Dumbledore saw past his act until he learned of the man’s skill with Legilimency. Given the things Voldemort had thought about to get him through his school days and interactions with Dumbledore it was hardly surprising the man had distrusted him from the start.

It would have been easier for Voldemort to smile at Lupin if he didn’t resent the man as much as he did. There were the petty reasons, like the fact that Lupin still hadn’t given him permission to use his given name, but then there were the more significant wrongs the werewolf had done to Harriet. Abandoning her to the Dursleys. Failing to be forthcoming once he met her. Forgetting to take his wolfsbane potion and then failing to realize that he had in fact forgotten before moonrise while in the presence of children but namely Harriet. Failing to maintain his relationship with her once he left his position as Harriet’s Defense Professor. Supporting blatant invasions of her privacy through demands rather than asking permission. And that was only the start of the list. Still, despite all the wrongs Lupin had done to her Harriet cared for this man and as such Voldemort could not allow himself to punish Lupin in the way he felt the werewolf deserved.

“Are you ready,” Lupin asked taking in Voldemort’s appearance. As a kindness Voldemort refrained from doing the same with Lupin’s obviously repaired and worn wardrobe.

Patting his pocket significantly Voldemort confirmed he was ready to leave and together they headed through the floo to The Three Broomsticks. It was clear the Hogwarts students had been released as per usual as the establishment was packed with young bodies excitedly discussing their plans for the day and the other mundanities that preoccupied youths.

Checking the time despite not needing to Voldemort declared, “If I know Harriet they’ll still be at Tomes and Scrolls.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but accepted his word on the matter.

After banishing the mess from their clothes they started making their way through the crowd to the door before a distraction drew Remus’ attention.

“Hagrid,” the werewolf called in concern at seeing the giant making his way to the bar. From the look of things he was intending to get an early start to drowning his sorrows.

Voldemort wanted to leave Lupin to it. Harriet was nearby. He could abandon the man to get to her. The dream meetings helped to deal with their separation but it wasn’t the same as having her in his sights. But John needed to appear to be a good lad. John needed to seem the type the Order needn’t worry about. So playing the part of good little puppy the viper followed after the werewolf.

Taking in the half-giant’s bruises and injuries Voldemort was impressed. He knew just how hard it was to leave a lasting mark on Hagrid. His giant’s blood made him tougher than the average man. However the sight of them also made Voldemort angry. He no more liked Hagrid then he did Lupin but at the moment he wished to throttle Hagrid in a way Lupin did not inspire.

When Hagrid first returned from his travels he had tried to keep the nature of his injuries a secret from Harriet. Of course being the protective inquisitive creature she was Harriet couldn’t let it be. She used astral projection to follow Hagrid and learned his secret then promptly confronted him on just why he was keeping a giant in the Forbidden Forest. Since then the oaf had taken her and her friends to meet his half-brother. Seeing the damage the brother had done to Hagrid Voldemort shuddered to think what it might have done to Harriet or one of the other children. Had anything happened to Harriet’s friends the guilt and grief would have followed Harriet on through her life which was a burden she did not deserve. Had anything happened to Harriet herself the fury Voldemort unleashed would have been previously unmatched. All because Hagrid did not think to keep dangerous beasts away from vulnerable children.

For all the harm Umbridge was doing at Hogwart’s Voldemort severely hoped that she would do the student body a service and see that Hagrid was fired. In the mean time Voldemort would have to look for a way to get Hagrid’s brother taken care of so the giant would no longer be a threat to Harriet. Already he had a plan in mind.

Once John was accepted for Auror training the Ministry would arrange that his staying in the country was taken care of on the Muggle side of things as well. While the Ministry would have to be told where John was living Volemort could buy properties under that identity without having to tell them. If he bought them from muggles there would be no magicals to leak out word to others. If he bought a large enough property, out of the way, hidden and sealed off from the world then they could dump the giant there. The oaf would not have to worry about when- If he lost his position at Hogwarts Hagrid would not have to worry about being there to take care of his brother and Voldemort would not have to worry that Harriet might be expected to take care of him in Hagrid’s absence.

Voldemort would have to discuss the matter with Harriet when they met that night. She would not remember it when awake but the idea would plant itself in her mind. When the time came she would believe it was her own and hopefully they would be able to implement it.

How much Harriet was remembering from their nightly meetings concerned him. His intention was for none of it to be remembered until the time was right. He also hadn’t intended for the suppression he put in place to affect her ability to recall her other dreams. Given their prophetic nature Voldemort did not want her cut off from a resource which might warn her of danger, but things had gone wrong. He suspected this was due either to Harriet’s Being inheritance or her abilities as a Seer. Perhaps it was a combination of both. No matter the case he hoped Harriet would stay ignorant of the answers she was seeking until the time was right, but patience was not counted among her virtues and she could be delightful tenacious when set on a goal. Normally Voldemort enjoyed these aspects of her personality but in this case he wished Harriet could be a puppet like the rest. Things would be much easier on her if she could just remain ignorant while Voldemort arranged everything into place.

Not that he could do much arranging in that moment. No, he was having to stand around looking concerned but awkward as Remus tried to see what was wrong and offer support to his fellow Order member while Hagrid went on about outcasts and orphans, family and blood. It was surprisingly easy to play his part and appear affected by the themes. Voldemort learned to embrace being different, to revel in being more than those around him, but Harriet hadn’t learned to embrace the aspects of her superiority in such a way. She viewed the life of an outsider as a negative thing and this had only worsened as a consequences of the Ministry’s slander.

As for being an orphan, Voldemort was grateful to have been freed from his parents and the constraints of their legacy, but Harriet longed to know what a life with her parents by her side would have meant. Voldemort couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d done. He regretted nothing of the past. The past had brought him to Harriet as he was now. But for her grief Voldemort was saddened that there was nothing he could do to fix it.

As for family and blood, Voldemort did understand Hagrid’s dedication. He wouldn’t have as he was before, but now that he had Harriet, he could sympathize.

It all would have been easier if Voldemort could just voice his suggestion to Hagrid in that moment rather than waiting but John wasn’t meant to know about Hagrid’s brother. It was something Harriet had shared with him not a letter but one of their dreams. John was meant to have never met Hagrid, let alone know his secrets. This made it necessary for Voldemort to stand there playing awkward bystander until finally they left Rosmerta to keep an eye on Hagrid and continued on their way.

Once out on the street Remus apologized for Hagrid’s behavior. “He isn’t himself at the moment.”

“Drink will do that,” Voldemort agreed keeping his judgment out of his tone and presenting understanding in its place. “Harriet’s told me what Umbridge is putting him through. With Hogwarts being home it can’t be easy knowing it might be taken away.”

Remus eyed him from the side. “Was it hard for you? Leaving home behind?”

“I lost my home a long time ago,” Voldemort said thinking of Hogwarts and the attachment he had once felt for it which faded over the years as increasingly he associated it with Dumbledore and not as his home.

Remus however believed John to be referencing moving in with his father after his mother’s death. “I’m sorry if I brought up a sore topic.”

Voldemort waved a hand in dismissal of his apology. “Everything that’s happened led us to where we are now and I’m happy where I am. Having Harriet, having real family is more than I ever thought to wish for.”

He got an odd look from Remus but their arrival at Tomes and Scrolls was a well timed distraction. When they entered Voldemort looked over the bodies cluttering the isles. Most he marked as either Ravenclaws or NEWT and OWL year students.

“Hermione,” Remus called out having spotted Harriet’s friend coming around a corner.

Voldemort left him to it preferring instead to head off to where he knew Harriet would most likely be.

Sure enough he found her at the back of the store perusing shelves with Luna at her side. It was the same position he’d found them in months ago when he’d last met up with Harriet during her Hogsmeade trip. Granger had wanted to return to the castle and alert the Order that John was there but Harriet had talked her out of it. By the end of the visit Voldemort had managed to lessen suspicions regarding John if not out right win over most of Harriet’s friend group.

He was able to figure out how to win over all but Ronald Weasley who was too jealous to be happy for Harriet at getting to hang out with her ‘cool’ older male cousin. His attitude towards John only worsened when Voldemort struck up conversation with Granger about life in America, getting her laughing and blushing as he charmed her. The boy had flushed bright red looking ready to blow. It was only Harriet stomping on his foot and whispering threats in his ear that stopped him from making a scene.

Voldemort was very amused by how plainly Harriet could see the Ron’s feelings for their mutual friend but had incorrectly labeled the boy’s feelings for her as protective. Voldemort thought on Harriet’s part this might be willful ignorance as he knew her to have only sisterly affections for the boy. Ron would have been better off setting his sights solely on Granger. At least she seemed to have some interest in him as well.

In both their letters and dreams Harriet had shared with him her experience of the Yule Ball. She’d asked Ron as her date thinking that would be better than accepting another boy’s invitation who might get ideas about what it meant. She thought she’d have a fun casual evening with a friend. Instead he’d openly gawked and ogled at seeing her done up in her dress robes and then turned into a fuming green-eyed monster when Granger showed up on Victor Krum’s arm. Voldemort had seen it before. A boy wanting both ‘custard and crumpet’ as Slughorn described it.

Feeling a prickling in the top of his head Voldemort knew Harriet was watching him despite her eyes being aimed down at the books in her hands. He didn’t understand exactly how that awareness worked. Most of the connection between them he didn’t understand but hopefully one day when they had the time they would discover the answer.

Knowing he wouldn’t startle her Voldemort moved forward to stand at Harriet’s back. She played at not noticing and continued to focus on her books. Playing along Voldemort looked at them from over her shoulder. Beedle the Bard. He was familiar with the man’s work of course. During his first year at Hogwarts he’d worked hard to remove his ignorance of all the things magically raised children seemed to know. Voldemort had gotten himself a copy of all the common children’s tales and read them in private. Later when discovering Hocruxes he learned just how much truth there could be behind these stories.

As Harriet turned the page she’d been pretending to read he commented, “I wasn’t done with that just yet.”

Having been made aware of his presence Luna turned to look up at them. Voldemort winked at her in greeting and she smiled back in return but said nothing, keeping her silence so the ruse could continue.

“Oh alright,” Harriet said while this was happening. She turned the page back. “Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem.”

Voldemort allowed himself to drop his chin onto her shoulder. With her growth since Christmas Harriet was now almost to a height with him. A couple more inches maybe and she would match him for height in this form.

Finally cracking Harriet turned to look up at him. With a large smile she pulled Voldemort into a hug.

“And hello to you,” he said returning her embrace. Without letting got he looked down at Luna. “And to you as well.”

“Hello John,” Luna returned. “Having a good Valentine’s?”

“Very productive,” John answered honestly. He did not like to lie to Harriet and it would be reckless lying to Luna. While her sight had not manifested in the same way as Harriet or Trelawney the girl still perceived enough to be dangerous.

“That’s nice,” Luna said smiling at him.

“What kind of productive,” Harriet asked pulling back from their hug.

Voldemort gave a pointed look back at the crowded store. Harriet frowned but accepted it wasn’t anything he could talk about with possibly interested ears around.

Taking the books out of her hands he asked, “Trying to decide on a copy?”

Harriet nodded in agreement. “I like the illustrations in this one,” she said pointing to the older printing, “but I probably won’t read it again once I’m though. Makes it seem like a waste for the price.”

“You could save it to give as a present once your friends start having children,” Voldemort suggested. As far as he was concerned Harriet wanting something was excuse enough to procure it but Harriet often needed ‘better’ reasons.

“Or leave it in the common room for the other students,” Luna added. “There are probably other muggle raised Gryffindors who never had the opportunity to read them.”

Accepting that reasoning Harriet took the other two copies from Voldemort’s hands to return them to their place on the shelves before adding the copy she wanted for herself to a small stack on the floor. While Voldemort knelt down to examine what Harriet had selected for herself Hermione appeared from between the shelves with Lupin trailing behind her. The werewolf frowned slightly at seeing that John was already there but Voldemort pretended not to notice.

“Remus,” Harriet greeted. Happily she moving forward to hug him.

Quickly the werewolf hid his frown away.

While Hermione left them to check on a few more things they remained in their little alcove chatting and waiting for the rest of Harriet’s friends to appear.

“What did you have planned for lunch? I heard from Tom at The Leaky Cauldron that Madam Puddifoot’s is doing some special things for the day.” Voldemort said while looking over the shelves for himself. He knew it was unlikely he would find anything of interest but one never knew. Spotting a copy of what was the Wizarding equivalent to Mother Goose he held it out to Harriet, “Have you ever read these?”

At the shake of her head he added it to her pile.

Harriet rolled her eyes at his move before answering his first question. “I don’t think there are plans. We’re supposed to meet at Honeydukes after this and then we figured we’d be heading off.”

“I thought your physician still wanted you off sweets,” Voldemort asked, keeping Snape’s name out of it.

Harriet made to answer but the arriving Neville beat her to it. “He does, and she’s been better about keeping with it. Mister Lupin. John,” the boy said bowing his head to them each respectively then explained, “Parvati and Padma gave me their picks so they could heading on to Honeydukes and meet the others.”

Harriet checked her watch. “We’re going to have to wrangle Hermione if we don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll go get in line while you lot track her down,” Voldemort volunteered.

Harriet eyed him shrewdly as he scooped up the piles of books from the floor. He reached out to Neville and the boy amicably handed his burden over to add to the stack in Voldemort’s arms. Sadly Harriet was no so amenable.

Knowing what he intended she told him off. “You are not buying all of those for us.”

“Watch me,” Voldemort countered as he walked off for the register.

Harriet followed after him as he expected she would complaining to him that he didn’t need to and so on.

Remus followed after him as well while the other Luna and Neville went off to find Hermione. When Luna returned she was carrying all of Hermione’s selection along with some extra’s of her own which she handed over to Voldemort without prompting

“Good girl,” Voldemort praised Luna while she turned to consolingly pat an exasperated Harriet’s shoulder.

***

John’s spoiling, endearing and well meaning though it was, had simply become too much.

If he had his way Harriet just knew he would have bought Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny new brooms for Christmas. Thankfully he had restrained himself to a point where Mrs Weasley’s lips pursed at the extravagance of his presents but she didn’t say anything about not being able to accept them. Mrs Weasley’s own gift from John had been a new pair of enchanted knitting needles as well as a long letter thanking her for looking after Harriet and raising the children who numbered as some of Harriet’s dearest friends and saying how he hoped his presents could show some of his gratitude for being there for her. He had made Mrs Weasley cry with that letter. It made Harriet cry too when she got a turn reading it. And everyone really had been thrilled with the presents they got… so despite her best judgment Harriet said nothing to him about the expense.

But buying everyone’s books and then picking up the tab at Honeydukes was too much. Much too much for Harriet to keep mum about it.

“My friends already like you. You don’t need to bribe them,” she told John as they walked with the rest towards the Shrieking Shack.

“I’m not bribing them,” John argued like she was being ridiculous.

“What do you call it then?”

“Rewarding and reinforcing good behavior.”

Besides them the George and Fred snorted while Harriet gawked.

“You can go on rewarding us anytime,” they said, their attention still on sorting through the enormous package of harder to come by ingredients John had gotten for them. Some of the things had been brought because the twins had requested it. Others were John’s inspiration.

For Christmas he’d gotten the two a veritable cornucopia of supplies for the purpose of inventing new and wonderful products to help Harriet’s investment in them paid off. In return the twins sent John a thank you letter inviting him to invest himself. He had been willing but couldn’t legally invest in a British interests until he was a citizen. The work around he had for this was purchasing further shares of the company in Harriet’s name. They only informed Harriet of this deal as they finalized it outside of Honeydukes. And while she might of seen it coming if she thought to look, she hadn’t, and so was blindsided.

She made it clear that if John was going to be so frivolous with his spending she would be taking the profits which came from those shares and putting it in a trust for him. It might not be ethical that she take what was rightfully his but it wasn’t right they hadn’t consulted her about using her to circumvent the law either.

At hearing her plan John merrily laughed and told her she was more than welcome. It felt like he really had no cares about the money. Harriet was starting to wonder just how much her cousin had inherited. She herself had been left a small fortune, enough to possibly live off of her whole life if she was very frugal and no emergencies came up, but probably not given just how long wizards could live and the trouble that always seemed to find her. She would be needing to get a job at some point if she was going to sustain herself. When she’d written John for advice on possible careers his response had been to invest well and live her life doing what made her feel fulfilled.

Side eyeing him Harriet considered what other investments he’d made beyond the twins and made a note to ask him later. After all, John wasn’t a foolish person. He was clever and smart. She hadn’t truly worried about his spending until so many other people started asking about it and Hermione shared stories of people who have won the lottery and new to money blew through it all in months. But maybe that was the wrong of the wand.

Harriet considered that perhaps John spent as much as he did simply because he could well and truly afford it? She tried to imagine what she would do if she had more money than she could possibly need in a lifetime and realized she would probably be spoiling everyone also.

As they came upon the fence for the property of the Shrieking Shack Remus called them to a stop. Raising his wand he cast a series of spells to check they weren’t being followed while John sent a charm off to erase their footprints from the way they came. When that was settled they proceeded past the fence and down to the shack with John making sure they left no trail behind.

Waiting just inside the door was Bill and Moody who a few of Harriet’s friends greeted as Professor on reflex. While Bill greeted his siblings and was introduced to their friends, Moody was looking to Remus for a report. Once matters of security were out of the way John asked him, “Is she here?”

Moody’s mad eye swung on him while his other eye looked to assess Harriet. “She is. Though I’m not certain why you chose her. She’s not a trustworthy sort.”

From his pocket John pulled out an artfully folded piece of parchment which he presented to Moody. “There are others we could get but they wouldn’t have the draw her name does. The contract is iron clad and gives her plenty of motivation to want a good working relationship for the future. ”

Moody kept a blank face while reading most of the contract but at one point his face did twitch before he went on to finish. Handing the contract back he said, “Motivation indeed,” before heading off towards the stairs.

Harriet looked expectantly at John who waved the contract from side to side. “I may not be bribing your friends but Rita Skeeter? Her I’m bribing.”

Holding out her hand Harriet took the contract and gave it a skimming over as their group was ushered by Bill to follow Moody for the stairs. Her eyes bulged when she found the section about payment.

“Blackmailing wasn’t good enough,” she asked, her voice going high.

Back at Christmas during one of their outings the idea had come about of Harriet getting her story out there to the world, in her own words and not through the filter of the Ministry’s propaganda or Dumbledore speaking for her. With Harriet’s permission John looked into arranging things. With a reference from Luna he’d gone to Mister Lovegood to make certain the Quibbler would be willing to publish such an interview. Once that was taken care of he went to Rita Skeeter with a letter from Hermione, the knowledge that she was an animagus, and a job offer. Along with the frankly outrageous sum John was paying her Rita would have access to Harriet for at least one interview a year for the next five years. In exchange the interviews could only be sold on to publications Harriet approved of, she got final say on every word printed, and Rita was locked in a heavily binding magical vow to protect the privacy of not just Harriet but dozens of others as well.

At the top of the stairs Rita herself was waiting for them looking every inch how Harriet remembered. She extended her arms out to the side and ignoring everyone else who was there focused unnervingly on Harriet. “And there she is. Harriet, dear, excited for today are we? Nervous? Ambivalent?”

Her Quick-Quotes quill was already scratching away behind her.

“No names of anyone else present,” Harriet ground out at seeing the quill. That was part of the deal covered under privacy but she couldn’t help but giving the warning.

Rita played at being scandalized. “Of course not dear. As far as anyone will know it was just you and I meeting at an undisclosed location. They won’t get a word different out of me or my notes. You can have a look for yourself,” she offered snatching the parchment out of the air and presenting it to Harriet to read.

The notes spoke at length describing Rita’s looks and why she was there then suddenly jumped over to how tired Harriet looked despite the beauty she was growing into and some other bits about her appearance before stressing Rita’s warm welcome.

With Harriet occupied the former Prophet reporter turned her attention on John, eying him up like he was her golden ticket.

“John dear,” she cooed in an attempt at seductive that had several of the onlookers pulling faces of disgust.

“Don’t you look just dashing,” she complimented running her hands down John’s shoulders and squeezing his biceps.

Taking her hand from his arm and kissing the back of it, John returned politely, “Miss Skeeter.”

“Now, now. Surely we know each other well enough for you to call me Rita.”

Harriet rolled her eyes at the woman’s antics. She had little doubt this flirting wouldn’t be happening if Rita didn’t have an inkling of just how much John might be worth.

“Shouldn’t we get started,” Harriet asked tapping her watch before handing the notes back over.

“Of course dear,” Rita said beaming at her with much fake cheer. “First will be the photos and then we can move on to the interview.”

Taking Harriet by the shoulders she steered her to a near by room with the rest of the group following. Unlike the rest of the shack a portion of this particular room had been repaired and staged to look something like a library with two chairs facing catty-corner to one another on a lavish rug with a table and lamp in-between them staged in front of a row of shelves filled with books and knickknack and other interesting items. Looking it over John put a hand on Collin’s shoulder. He was going to be their photographer for the day though Harriet was against it as they couldn’t give him credit without bringing Umbridge down on his head. Collin insisted he didn’t need the credit, that just knowing his pictures were in the paper would be enough. Luna informing them that Collin would be paid didn’t make Harriet feel much better about the situation but it did help.

“Anything you want to change,” John asked.

Eyeing the scene Collin looked uncertain. “Well,” he said going forward to begin fiddling with the set. Rita was ready to argue about his interfering but a single look from John stopped her. With control of this aspect taken from her Rita turned her attention on Harriet. While she approved of the dress she would not sign off on Harriet’s jacket, makeup, or hair. Reluctantly Harriet gave into her reasoning and let herself be fussed over while Collin with the help of John, Remus, and Bill changed the set to suit his liking before getting John’s camera set up. It took Collin some time to get past his excitement at actually getting to use such an expensive model but once he was focused on the work he fell into the flow following Rita’s instructions on what pictures she wanted while offering his own input. When Harriet couldn’t take anymore John called for them to move on to the interview.

“Good luck,” Hermione wished her with a hug, the others coming forward to do the same.

“We will be just out there,” Ron promised her, tilting his head at the door.

Harriet smiled. She was glad her friends were understanding that she didn’t want them in the room for the actual interview but were still willing to be near by to support her.

Awkwardly Ron took his turn giving her a hug before heading out.

“I could stay,” Remus offered but Harriet shook her head.

“I’m sorry but…” she trailed off not sure how she could explain without hurting his feelings.

Remus nodded. “I understand,” he promised her. Placing a hand on her shoulder he gave her a squeeze of support then headed out of the room leaving her alone with Rita and John.

With a few quick bits of wand work John transfigured the room into something more comfortable for Harriet with one of the chairs transformed into an overly stuffed couch, the carpet lightening and growing up into a plush white, the side table change into a coffee table and the items on the bookshelves changed as well. Going to the windows he removed the spells that had been placed on them to keep the air out allowing a cool breeze to begin trickling in before spelling the lights around the room to dim.

Pulling her coat back on Harriet slipped out of her shoes and curled up in the corner of the couch. She didn’t know how John had known what would make her comfortable but the new arrangement did make her feel extremely relaxed. She felt safe tucked in on that couch. It felt like she had the home field advantage where before she felt like a butterfly pinned for Rita to display.

With a flick of his wand John positioned the remaining chair to be in Harriet’s line of sight before joining her on the couch. Not consciously aware of what she was doing Harriet moved to place her feet on John’s lap which he accepted as though it was something they did all the time. It was only Rita’s interested look following the gesture that Harriet realized what she’d done. However she wouldn’t let Rita’s judgement make her move. She was comfortable and knowing Rita couldn’t say anything about what happened in that room without permission Harriet left her feet exactly where they were.

“Well then,” Rita said seating herself down in the remaining chair while her quill hovered at the ready besides her. “I’ve spoken to John about what he wants from this article. And while I’m happy to do it,” she assured John while giving him a quick smile and a flutter of her lashes, “you do know that it will only bring more problems down on you? I myself will be off to Europe to avoid the fall out, but you will be here. You will be trapped at Hogwarts with the Ministry and their High Inquisitor out for your head. Wouldn’t you prefer a different kind of article,” Rita asked leadingly. It was obvious she wanted the answer to be yes. Probably she wanted for Harriet to throw Dumbledore under the buss and tow the Ministry’s line but she’d likely settle for some gossip about teenage angst and romance. Too bad for her that wasn’t what Harriet was there for.

“I want to get the truth out there,” Harriet told her firmly.

Loosing her saccharine facade Rita rested back in her chair. “And your truth goes along with that garbage Dumbledore’s been dealing out about You-Know-Who returning I suppose.”

With her temper rising up and prickling across her skin, Harriet rebutted, “It’s not garbage.”

John gave her foot a squeeze as a reminder for calm.

“Its garbage to the press if it doesn’t sell papers. If you haven’t noticed, nobody wants him to be back. The public doesn’t want the Ministry to be wrong. They’d much rather rip down their former heroine than believe there is another war on the horizon with only an inept Ministry, an old man, and a fourteen year old girl to protect us.”

“Fifteen,” John corrected before Harriet could force her jaw to unclench to do it herself. “And I do hope you won’t have such problems with basic facts going forward.”

Rita studied John.

He met her look with an unwavering stare.

“Remember,” he told her when the silence was on the edge of becoming a stand off. “You’re off to Europe. Whatever happens here, it won’t be your problem.”

The side of Rita’s mouth pulled up as she pursed her lips. She looked between Harriet and John to find the both of them unwavering. With a huff she flicked her hand through the air dismissively.

“Fine then. If you’re certain let’s shake things up shall we,” Rita said with a light coming to her eye. Drama and attention were what she thrived on after all. This interview would certainly bring more of both than any article she had written previously.

“Let’s start with how you first learned about the Triwizard Tournament, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Just as Rita predicted Harriet’s article had shaken up life at Hogwarts. Umbridge went after her and her supporters more than ever. Only a day after the article’s release Trelawney was fired. Harriet suspected it was only the fact the Dumbledore was able to keep her on premises that The Toad didn’t do the same to Hagrid.

After her very public dismissal Harriet went with a few of the other teachers to escort Trelawney back to her rooms. Crying she asked Harriet why she couldn’t just stay silent. She did not outright blame Harriet for her firing but she might as well have. It broke Harriet’s heart the way Trelawney looked at her.

McGonagall was quick to counter, saying that Trelawney should keep the blame where it belonged. With Umbridge. The stern professor wasn’t happy with Trelawney for turning on Harriet and made it clear that even without the interview Umbridge would have found a reason to fire her. Harriet’s friends agreed with McGonagall but it didn’t help Harriet’s guilt as Trelawney had been made a target because of their connection in the first place.

That night Harriet sent a letter to John as she always did. She told him about the firing, her feelings around it, and asking for his advice. She hadn’t expected him to salvage the situation but later she realized she should have known he would come up with something.

When she woke up in the morning there were two letters waiting for her from John. One was his usual response to what she’d written, responding with his support and any news of his own he had. The second was addressed to Trelawney. It contained a promise that her loyalty and care of Harriet would not go unrewarded. He extended an invitation to support Trelawney in this difficult time. He also offered her work. Her job would be to guide him as a Seer in choosing investments and making other decisions. He was clear that he would understand if she found the work demeaning for a Seer of her caliber. He assured her that should she refuse it would not change his offer of support. He sent along details about possible lodgings, allowances, and what her employment contract would look like.

After breakfast Harriet made her way up to Trelawney’s tower to deliver John’s offer along with her own intention that when she came of age she as head of her branch would declare House Potter an ally of House Trelawney. Harriet promised that she would always look after her mentor, no matter what.

Despite her best efforts Harriet got teary when she admitted, “You’ve been more an aunt to me than my own blood.”

“Oh my girl,” Trelawney croaked as tears of her own welling up. Truly touched she pulled Harriet into a hug. As they clung to each other Trelawney apologized for her behavior the day before and Harriet offered her forgiveness.

After their meeting Harriet donned her invisibility clock and called for Dobby asking him to deliver her to Hagrid.

Hagrid was anxious after Trelawney’s firing and felt Harriet shouldn’t be there but she had something important to talk to him about. Carefully she laid out the idea she had for how they could get Grawp somewhere safe. Hagrid wasn’t against the plan but he didn’t like the idea of telling anyone else about his brother. There was no way however for them to accomplish the task without John’s help. So reluctantly Hagrid agreed to meet John so he could get a sense of him. Thankfully the meeting went well between the two.

Having recently been accepted into Auror training and subsequently having been awarded his Residence Rights John immediately got in touch with an Estate Agent to hunt down a property where Grawp could live. Harriet didn’t want to know how much money he’d thrown at the problem or how many muggles he’d had to bewitch but three weeks later he had a place which was secure, isolated, and ready to house a giant. Together he worked with Hagrid to move Grawp out of the Forbidden Forest to his own little stretch of land where he could live in peace with plenty to entertain him.

Despite how quickly John was able to arrange it all everything was settled only just in time. On the first of April Umbridge and Fudge finally managed what they wanted all along. Dumbledore was officially dismissed from his position as Headmaster. That morning at breakfast The Toad stood before the student body as their new headmistress. Despite how much they wanted it to be an awful April Fool’s prank it was unfortunately real.

“Worse birthday ever,” the twins said looking angry and riled. It took warnings and threats from Harriet, Cedric, their siblings, and the rest of the D.A. as well as a letter from their mother and another from John to keep the twins from restarting the prank war on Umbridge in retaliation for Dumbledore’s sacking.

Thankfully the day was not a total loss. Trelawney unseated Umbridge in her moment of triumph by coming forward through the Great Hall, dressed in her best to inform ‘Miss Umbridge’ that with Dumbledore gone she would be leaving as well to invest herself fully in her new gainful employment. She was ending her announcement with some comments about the tainting of the aura of the school’s aura when she suddenly was swept into the grips of her gift. Standing for all to see as a true Prophet she delivered words of prediction unto them. Umbridge tried to stop her but nothing she said or the demands she gave worked. The voice of fate would not be interrupted.

The truth will not remain hidden.
The lies used to bury it will crumble.
Those who endorse ignorance will fall to justice.
Those who championed the chosen will be rewarded.
When the old regime falls,
A just new court will take its place,
And prosperity will follow,
If they heed the words of the Chosen.

Those in the hall who had never witnessed the delivery of a true prophecy before were left feeling unsettled by what they had heard and the feeling the magic infused in those words.

Blinking back to herself Trelawney gazed around the room slightly dazed but a look from Harriet told her it was time to make her exit.

“Right then. Good day to you, though I fear the signs do not suggest it will be,” she said.

With her head held high she turned to depart leaving behind a hall full of people who would have to reconsider their opinions on divination.

Umbridge as anyone who knew her could have predicted, was not pleased. She was not pleased at all which made it all the sweeter a victory. The only way it could have been better was if Trelawney left to applause but with all the shocks of the morning and the threat of The High Inquisitor the student body simply wasn’t up to it.

The cherry on top for Harriet was watching as a purple faced Umbridge seemed to only just then realize that just because she had gotten rid of Dumbledore did not mean everything would go her way.

Looking around the hall of she suddenly noticed an absence she’d been to pleased with herself to think of before. Just as she asked where Hagrid was Hedwig arrived, dropping off a letter for Umbridge before quickly leaving. Picking up her first letter as Headmistress, Umbridge read Hagrid's resignation which with some help from John had some wonderful digs including siting his lack of confidence in her abilities for the reason he was quitting.

Fuming Umbridge rushed out of the hall to Hagrid’s hut but there was nothing of worth for her to find there. As planned, Trelawney’s performance had given Hagrid time to execute his own evacuation plan. He himself, Fang, all his things, and all the creatures which didn’t belong to Hogwarts but were under his care were gone, off to join Grawp where they could be safe from Umbridge and her wrath. And to provide a further feeling of impudence to Umbridge his hut had been sealed off and protected so that no harm could come of it during his time away. So, when Umbridge in a fit of peek at not being able to enter tried blast the door down absolutely nothing happened.

Denied satisfaction, bug-eyed, still purple faced, and fuming Umbridge returned to the Great Hall looking ready to shake apart with her indignation and embarrassment. Harriet and several others couldn’t help their smug expressions at the sight of her, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the new Headmistress. Those looks only added to her hatred of them. They’d added a fresh coat of paint to the targets on chests that morning. At the time it felt worth it, but when time came to pay the bill…

That day when Defense ended Harriet was held back after class. Thanks to her readings she knew something bad was coming, she just didn’t know what form it would take.

While the rest of the students filed out Filch came in with Mrs Noris at his heel. Once all the others had left and the room was sealed it was only the three of them. Harriet’s word against theirs. Umbridge falsely accused Harriet of having drawn her wand on the new Headmistress. Flinch offered himself as witness to this fictitious event. With malicious satisfaction Umbridge pointed out that Harriet could be expelled for this but in her ‘mercy’ she would hand down her own punishment instead.

That day Harriet received a life time ban from quidditch, her Hogsmeade privileges were revoked for the remainder of her time as a Hogwarts student, and ‘until further notice’ she was to serve detention with Umbridge and to ensure she served those detentions Umbridge informed her she would not be leaving Hogwarts for any Holiday. Except of course the rules said no student could remain at the school over the Summer break only Umbridge had thought of that as well, revealing plans within the Ministry to makes Hogwarts a year round institution by law. A measure which if passed would make Harriet for all intents and purposes Umbridge’s prisoner.

No one was happy about the frame up but there was nothing they could do about it. Their hands were tied and they were still tied as in the coming weeks Umbridge falsely accused and unjustly sentenced student after student.

Even though she was having Harriet serve detentions daily Umbridge never tired of her routine. Every night she smiled with sweet satisfaction as she set Harriet to writing lines with the blood quill. And every night when Harriet asked what she was to write the answer was always the same.

I must not tell lies.

Again and again, a hundred or more times a night Harriet had to carve those words into her hand. Her improved healing was trying its best but there wasn’t enough time between sessions before the wounds were made fresh again. Growing desperate Harriet tried switching up the style with which she wrote so the quill wouldn’t carve the same path every time but the tedium of it mixed with the pain meant she quickly slipped back to the muscle memory of her normal penmanship.

Snape was starting to worry that even with her healing Harriet may never completely be rid of the scars but Harriet was alright with that. All her friends were likely to bare scars for their rest of their lives and baring her own would serve as a good reminder for all the lessons Umbridge had unintentionally ingrained in Harriet. Lessons about things like abuse of authority. That there needed to be better standards of protection for children. That some things were worth lying for.

The worse part about the scars and Umbridge’s punishments was the senselessness of it all. It did nothing to accomplish her goals. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, some pains had to be endured as there outcomes were worth the price, but in the end none of this really mattered for anything. Nothing Umbridge did actually furthered her cause. It was pain and mutilation brought on by her ego, sadism, and petty vengefulness which she felt no quilt over.

With Umbridge as Headmistress, Hogwarts felt more like battle grounds than a school, let alone the home it had once been for Harriet. Overall, for most of the student body, things weren’t actually that different from before Dumbledore’s firing. Even before she was Head Mistress as High Inquisitor Umbridge had already poisoned the school, but with Dumbledore’s going so too had hope. It only took days for students to begin throwing about the idea of asking their parents to pull them out for homeschooling or transfer abroad.

“It won’t do any good,” Susan informed them one day when the group got to throwing the idea around after a D.A. meeting. “Harriet was right. Umbridge and the Minister are trying to pass new laws. They not only want to shorten the Summer holiday to two weeks but are also discussing making Hogwarts attendance mandatory for all those eligible for attendance. My aunt confirmed it.”

Everyone had feelings about that and were happy to share them. But as the outrage tapered off Seamus voiced a new idea, “We could just drop out before they pass any new laws.”

To the shock of everyone Hermione agreed. Sounding dejected she informed them, “You don’t need to be a Hogwarts students to sit your N.E.W.T.s. As long we pass our O.W.L.s we’ll have wand rights and there would be no real need to stay.”

Looking angry Ron had thumped his fist on the ground. “What’s the world coming to when Hermione Granger wants out of school?”

“It is an option,” Neville defended sounding just as saddened as Hermione to be considering it..

Harriet responded with a pointed look to those in the group who were still a year or more off from sitting their O.W.L.s, “And what about the younger years who will be stuck here without anyone to look out for them?”

After that the idea was given up by the members of the D.A. as no matter their house they were loyal to one another, but in the greater student body there were those still seriously considering leaving Hogwarts. Only fourteen days into Umbridge’s stint as Headmistress and they’d seen the first abandon ship. The Allen’s pulled both of their children from Hogwarts that morning. By day nineteen lost half a dozen more.

Sighing Harriet pushed her meal away and looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. The enchanted view showed the sky outside with its gold overcast and particles of rainbow. It seemed too cheery of an atmosphere for their school in the state it was in.

One of the rainbow particles decided that unlike its fellows it would rather visit the students below then stay in the clouds. As it traveled down it was transfigured into a snowflake which gently floated down. Feeling a kinship with the rebellious thing Harriet let it land in her palm where it transformed again, this time into a thread of magic. Closing her hand around the thread Harriet made a wish for life at Hogwarts to get better with Umbridge leaving the school before the year was over like all the Defense Professors Harriet had known before her.

When she opened her hand the thread was gone.

“Harriet come on,” Hermione said drawing her attention back to the world around her.

Looking down the table she noticed the food was gone and the other students were filing out.

“It is time,” Hermione urged her.

“Time for what,” Harriet asked getting to her feet.

“To decide our futures of course,” Hermione said like it was obvious.

Confused Harriet let herself be led along through the hall by her friends until they were standing outside McGonagall's office. As everyone queued up Harriet realized the other students had placed her at the start of the line. When she tried to move behind them Neville gently guided her back into place.

“Why do I have to go first,” Harriet asked them petulantly.

Looking sympathetic Neville told her, “Because your choice will decide things for us.”

Nodding in agreement Ron put in, “The positioning of the King decides the priorities for the rest of the board.”

“What on earth are you talking about,” Harriet demanded. She didn’t want others deciding their futures based off her. Life wasn’t chess and if it had to be she was not a King and had no interest in ever being one.

“It is time, Miss Potter,” McGonagall called.

Turning Harriet found her Head of House was looking at her expectantly from where she had appeared in the doorway. With an unhappy glance back at her friends Harriet went along into the office. In the corner of the room Umbridge was crouched on a stool like a real toad while she glared at Harriet.

Ignoring the Headmistress, Mcgonagall sat down at her desk while gestured to the chair across from her. “Well then Miss Potter, what have you decided?”

Confused Harriet took the seat offered to her while asking, “Ma’am?”

From her spot in the corner Umbridge sneered at her in a very Snape like fashion which embodied condescension. Haughtily she demanded, “It is time. What will you do?”

“I,” Harriet said not knowing what they wanted from her.

“The paths already been laid out for you girl. Your future is at the Ministry,” Umbridge declared.

Harriet scrunched up her face. Life in a cubical sounded like hell to her and yet… she couldn’t deny the truth that rang in Umbridge’s words. In her gut Harriet knew that the best of her futures led to the ministry. The revelation came with a depressing wave of resignation.

Pushing a pamphlet over to her Mcgonagall looked at Harriet with sympathy. “It really is for the best you go along with what’s been planned.”

Nodding numbly Harriet reached out to take the pamphlet which had a picture of the ministry’s atrium on the front.

“I’ll do it,” she said accepting this path for the greater good.

Heading out she passed Hermione who was next.

“You’ll still have time to get to Divination if you hurry,” she told Harriet before shutting the door behind her.

Nodding Harriet pocketed her pamphlet to read later before rushing through the school to get to class. As she entered Classroom Eleven the white marble floor gave way to snow. She looked around at a familiar vast expanse of pristine fallen snow under a golden sky and spotted a figure in the distance. Walking closer she realized it was a centaur and walking closer still she realized it was one she knew.

Smiling Harriet called out, “Professor.”

Firenze turned to look at her but waited until she was nearer to calmly at a conversational volume.

“Harriet Potter,” he greeted with a bow of his head before turning his face back up towards the sky.

“Did you find them,” he asked.

“Find what,” Harriet asked as she followed his gaze up. She was surprised to realize that the stars were overlaid on the golden cloud covering above. She tried to piece out what knowledge there was to gain from them but it wasn’t clear to her. Before she could give it further thought a hand was landing on her shoulder breaking her concentration.

“You were looking for answers,” Firenze reminded her. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Confused Harriet tried to remember what he was talking about. Suddenly the memories came to her and she was able to recall. “My dreams!”

Firenze nodded.

That was right. Harriet had stayed behind after class to see what her new Divination Professor thought about her problem with remembering her dreams. So much of what he said during their lesson made sense to Harriet so she thought maybe he would have some insight she hadn’t been able to find from her other sources. He suggested her blood as a possible foci for finding her answers.

Thinking of the blood Wormtail had taken from her to bring Voldemort back, Harriet had asked, “Isn’t blood tied up in dark magic?”

Firenze had assured her it was not. Her blood was neutral. As long as it was shed willingly each drop was bound in purpose to her will. He recommended adding a few drops to her scrying bowls before using them as she normally would.

“Did you find what you were looking for,” Firenze asked again.

Feeling guilty Harriet confessed, “I don’t remember.”

“Then you must keep looking.” Firenze gestured off to the left where Harriet could see gold sprinkled on the horizon. “Stay to the path. Stay true to east, and you will find what you are looking for.”

Nodding Harriet started on her way. Doing her best to stay true to the course she walked with one foot carefully placed in front of the other until the snow gave way to a clear path.

Looking up from her feet Harriet blinked at the familiar Graveyard around her. She bowed to the statues of Potters past as she continued on the path. When she came to her grandparents she tried to transfigure them some flowers from the snow but they wouldn’t let her. Instead they urged her forward as did her parents. Confused but remembering Firenze’s advice Harriet heeded them and continued forward until she came to her monument which sat in the middle of the path she had been set on. Unwilling to veer Harriet climbed up onto the base. As she did her statue of ice and gold faded away leaving the way ahead clear for her.

Coming down on the other side Harriet continued forward.

She had been going for some time when she thought to look back to check on her progress. She frowned as she saw the path she had been walking wasn’t straight. From her trail of footprints in the snow she could clearly see there were places she had diverted from her intended course. Not understanding why that was Harriet turned about-face intending to investigate. Before she knew it she was back at her base not remember having come across the divergences along the way. Concerned she climbed back up into place on her base and looked out ahead for a better view her track.

‘Something isn’t right here,’ she decided taking it in. Irritation welled up in her and with it an itch along her arms. Something was very wrong indeed.

From the base her path went straight before dividing off in two directions. The set of footprints from her journey out moved to the left while the set from her attempts to backtrack moved to the right. In the center of the divergence was a perfect circle of untouched snow before the two sets rejoined, traveling to the straight east for a distance before separating and uniting again. It was like pearls on a string or a line drawing of a constellation. Tracking her movements all the way out Harriet could see six times this had happened. Six times she had changed course without realizing it and for seemingly no reason.

It seemed something was trying to interfere with her path, making decisions about where she would go, and worse of all trying to keep her from knowing she was being interfered with. Harriet was not pleased about any of it.

With new determination set in her mind she climbed down again to investigate.

Keeping her eyes on her feet she rewalked her steps until she came to the first divergence. With great determination Harriet tried to force herself to continue on a straight path into the seemingly empty space but it was like her body could not listen. She struggled for a time before giving up with a huff. Crossing her arms she scowled ahead at where she could not go despite nothing obvious stopping her.

She never had liked a mystery.

“I know you’re there whatever you are,” she declared boldly but nothing revealed itself.

Opening her inner eye Harriet tried to get a look at what her physical eyes were missing. She got the confirmation that her instincts were right. Something was there but it wasn’t something she could see clearly even with her Sight. The only sign of it was slight distortion in how that space lined up with the world around it. Like a mirror which provided a slightly distorted view.

Closing her inner eye Harriet went to retrieve of her small scrying mirror but found it missing from her pocket. It was then she realized as was without her wolly bag as well.

Setting divination methods aside Harriet drew her wand. Pointing it ahead she encantated, “Homenum Revelio.”

Though the spell was cast correctly, nothing happened.

Dropping the human element she tried again. “Revelio!” But still there was no result.

She tried to remember any other spells for revealing things that were hidden. After so many years at Hogwarts surely she’d come across something she reasoned as she searched her memories. “Aparecium!” was all she could come up with but it did no more than the last.

With a huff Harriet stalked around the circle she couldn’t breech until she was back at the start. Plopping down on the ground she glared trying to think of another option. When nothing came to her she picked up a handful of snow and threw it at the blasted space… only it didn’t go in. The snow hit the parameter and then gently rolled to the ground just as unable to go forward as she was.

Squinting Harriet tried a second handful for the same results.
Going on her hands and knees she crawled closer to the parameter. Reaching out a hand she could still only get within an inch before she couldn’t make herself push forward any longer. Her body simply refused. Her hand was perfectly still, her muscles relaxed despite her thoughts screaming for them to push, to strain, to try. Frowning she gave up.

Looking down at her footprints Harriet had herself a think. Maybe it wasn’t about going forward. Maybe it was about coming at the problem from a different angle.

Digging her hand down deep into the snow Harriet then pushed it forward until she felt certain she had to be within the perimeter of the circle. Wiggling her fingers back up to the surface she felt as her them breached the snows surface but all she could see was a pristine stretch of untouched snow.

Harriet smiled at her success.

Lifting her arm straight up, out of the snow. A she lifted it she lifted something else. Something heavy. As her arm raised higher a space was created where the illusion wasn’t holding up revealing darkness and the mess she had made of the snow. Stopping Harriet stuck her free hand through that gap and reached up to examine barrier she moving that had been concealing the true nature of the space. She was met with the feel of fabric. Having a suspicion she flipped the edge over revealing what looked like the inside of her invisibility cloak. She pulled back to look at the illusion of empty space and did some size comparison before coming to the conclusion that It could not be the Potter cloak. Whatever it was hiding was just too big for the family heirloom to conceal. It certainly did look like the same material though.

Keeping the edge firmly in hand Harriet got back to her feet. With a great tug she pulled back the covering to reveal what had been hiding from her.

There before her was a golden base was Voldemort sitting on a throne of ice. This wasn’t a statue like the rest. He looked just as he had the night of his resurrection; large, and blue, and inhuman. Stumbling back Harriet drew her wand expecting to be attacked only for nothing to happen. She frowned and waited but still there was no movement. Looking at his chest she saw it was perfectly still like he wasn’t even breathing. Jumping to a conclusion Harriet lowered her wand feeling foolish.

“Just a statue,” she chided herself. A very realistic statue but why would any statue of Voldemort be there let alone hidden?

Still itching for answers Harriet bypassed the base, heading for the next obstacle, hoping that once she could see them all she would have some context. When she came to the next circle of empty space she got down on her hands and knees to again find the next covering by rooting down into the snow. Pulling it away revealed Harriet revealed what looked like a perfectly ordinary phone booth. Staring at it in puzzlement Harriet wondered how the Dark Lord and a phone booth could relate.

“It is time,” a voice behind her said.

Jumping in shock Harriet turned to find Voldemort towering over her. As her heart recovered from the shock she went to raise her wand against him only to realize she wasn’t scared. Staring up at his face she felt safe. She felt loved. She knew he would not hurt her.

“Never again,” Voldemort promised with a sad look in those red eyes.

The words rang true and stirred up other truths that had been hidden from her. He would never hurt her again because he wasn’t the same man. He was remade by her blood. He was hers, she was his, and Voldemort was devoted. He would never do what he knew she could not forgive and would do his best to stick to what she could condone. If that meant giving up his ambitions, he was already preparing for that. If it meant a quiet life then he would learn to live with it. If she needed him to die for her he would. If she needed him to kill he would. If she told him to never kill again then he never would. She knew this. She knew this heart and soul and with every other fiber of her being. Even though he was Voldemort, the man who had tried to kill her, the man who had killed her parents, the man who was huge and blue and inhuman, even though he was all these things being around him felt like coming home in the same way… In the same way that John made her feel. Like they were family.

Startled by the revelation Harriet stared searchingly in the features of that face which was looking back at her with familiar affection.

“John,” she asked, already knowing the answer but needing it confirmed.

Slowly the blue faded from his skin as hair grew from his head and his body shrunk reforming. The inhuman vanished and in its place was a her much loved cousin.

“Yes Harriet,” John- No, Voldemort told her.

Gasping into consciousness Harriet jerked back from the bowl of water, ice, and blood in front of her. Looking around wildly she worked to orientate herself. Closing her eyes she tried to remember when and where she was.

She remembered her first class with Firenze earlier that day and his suggestion of using blood to aid in her divination efforts. When everyone else went to sleep she’d drawn her bed curtains and called for Dobby, asking him to take her to the Room of Requirement. She’d summoned a space while focused the goal of finding answers and gotten a ballroom made of ice where every surface shined and reflect as effectively as the best scrying mirrors. In the center of the room an ice bowl waiting for her, cut with facets and angles that caught the light making it dance in the water within. Wanting to test her new Professor’s advice Harriet had placed her hand above the water before carefully using a cutting hex on the pad of her finger. Once the wound had bled a bit she pulled her hand back. The water had already started to freeze and Harriet and quickly focused her attention on how the ice formed. As she watched she found herself lulled to sleep.

In a room surrounded by cold, ice, and reflection she found herself entering her dreams with only one focus. She wanted answers she wouldn’t forget and it had worked. She’d gone looking for answers and answers she had gotten.

“It- No. It can’t,” she stammered in disbelief at what she had learned and feeling like she was going to be sick.

Responding to her needs the room was transformed. The ice around her clouded and dulled until it could no longer reflect her image back at her while off to the side an ensuite bathroom came into existence. Harriet took off running for it. She only just made it to the sink before losing her stomach. Once she started she couldn’t stop. She continued to heave until there was nothing more to bring up. Sinking to the floor, her dry heaves became sobs as she cried out her pain from betrayal and disappointment both.

John was Voldemort.

Voldemort was John.

Harriet had no family in this world.

‘Yes you do,’ a nefarious part of her whispered.

“No,” she sobbed out in denial.

‘He is yours. He is your blood.’

“No,” she sobbed again.

Desperate to get away from these truths she’d uncovered and the choices they presented her Harriet opened her inner eye. Casting her sight out from her body she pulled back from the Room of Requirement, from Hogwarts, from Earth, and beyond. She kept going until there was no farther to go. Past even time, all of the universe that ever was and all the things it could be were hers to know. She was the universe looking in on itself and in the universe everything mattered and yet everything was insignificant.

***

“Thank you Sir,” Luna said to Dobby as they landed in the hall having left the Ravenclaw common room behind.

“Is Miss Luna certain about disturbing Miss Harriet,” Dobby asked nervously. Ringing his hands he followed Luna as she began passing before the Room of Requirement to summon the door Harriet had hidden. “When Miss Harriet is Seeing Dobby has been told it is best not to be disturbing her.”

As the door came into view Luna stopped to take a moment to smile reassuringly at Dobby. “Harriet needs me right now. She won’t mind my stepping in to save her from the consequences of her curiosity.”

Dobby thought about that for a moment before nodding. Looking around the hall he told her. “If Miss Luna is being certain, then Dobby will be going.”

At her nod of agreement the house elf went on his way leaving Luna free to go on ahead into the viewing hall the Room of Requirement had created for Harriet. With cautious footsteps she made her way through a large cold room to the bathroom off the side where she had been told she would find Harriet. There on the tiled floor was indeed her best friend. Harriet had sick on her shirt and tear tracks down her unusually pale face. She was staring ahead with a vacant expression as her consciousness was far from her body. It was only through involuntary reflex that she was still breathing and occasionally blinking.

“Oh Harriet,” Luna said sadly. Any doubts she had about Harriet needing her there that night died at seeing the state she was in.

Kneeling down besides her, Luna spelled her sick away and then banished the smell of it from the air. With Harriet tidied Luna reached out to pet her hair in slow steady strokes while she watched Harriet’s eyes for any sign of awareness. Physically she could still see. She knew Luna was there but given that she knew where everything else was as well it wouldn’t be a revelation. With so much to focus on the fact that Luna was there besides her would matter no more than it had mattered when ten minutes ago Luna had been in her dorm.

With gentle fingers Luna continued to stroke Harriet’s hair but rather than seeing Harriet return to herself as expected she watched the pale skin on her friend’s familiar face begin to darkened to a shade of blue as her eyes turned from green to red while they continued to stare as Harriet’s inner perspective continued to dominate her awareness.

Of all the things Luna had expected from that night, this transformation was not among them.

With Harriet’s skin beginning to give off a bitter cold Luna was forced to pull her hand away. With nothing else she could do Luna looked Harriet over, taking in her new form. Luna had known there was something different about Harriet Potter since Trelawney introduced them in Luna’s second year. She didn’t judge her friend for being more than human. She hoped that in the future when Harriet learned the truth she would be able to accept herself. Harriet was too good of a person not to be accepted for who she was. Jotunn, witch, Seer, and anything else she might be as well.

No sooner had Luna thought this than threads of magic began to be released from Harriet to float over to Luna. She smiled fondly as she took in the dozens of blessings. Harriet was always so giving. The greatest gift she could offer and she was spilling them over just because Luna accepted her for who she was. Luna was glad to see them though. When one was the universe everything was yours to know if you so chose. There were no secrets, not even in peoples heads, but Luna didn’t mind Harriet knowing what she was thinking anymore than she minded her friend not being entirely human. It was a good sign that Harriet was paying attention to Luna’s thoughts. It showed she hadn’t completely lost herself to the grand design if Harriet still cared.

As the threads disappeared Luna waited for The Fates to intervene, to use one of those blessings to bring Harriet back to herself. She knew the rest they would saved for those opportunities when they could best be put to use in a way that would help Harriet. Her friend was The Fates favored after all, and she more than anything else was their priority. Luna didn’t know what exactly The Fates were guiding them towards but she knew they wanted Harriet alive, sane, and whole. They had told her so through Professor Trelawney and Luna had felt the sentiment to be true.

Hoping to move the work along Luna called gently on both the physical as well as the astral plane, “Harriet. We need you here. I need you here with me,” she tried coaxingly.

Always one to answer a call for help Luna expected Harriet would respond and she did. Waiting patiently Luna could feel Harriet processing the words and finding their meaning before slowly pruning her awareness back so it could fit in her body. As she returned her form changed, returning to that of her everyday look.

Blinking lazily Harriet rested her head against the wall. Examining Luna with a confused furrow she asked trustingly, “What happened?”

Not having an explanation which Harriet would better understand, Luna mildly scolded her, “You tried to sprint before you’ve learned to walk.”

Harriet gave that some consideration but her thoughts led her to remembering something that had her face crumbling in on itself.

“Luna,” Harriet sobbed reaching out desperate for support as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Confused and scared of the world and herself and the truths she’d learned Harriet burrowed into Luna who with her heart aching for her friend’s distress held Harriet in return.

“There is a plan,” Luna offered trying to provide comfort. “We may not know where it’s taking us, we may not like every stepping stone of the journey, but the wise know better than to defy The Fates. In the end, this will all be worth it. In the end you’ll be happier to have been ignorant.”

These words were said as much for Luna herself as they were for Harriet.

The Fates had given her an order delivered through Trelawney after dinner that evening. They were very clear how she would find Harriet that night and what she would have to do.

With tears in her eyes and a shaky hand Luna drew her wand and brought it to Harriet’s temple.

“Obliviate.”

***

Harriet awoke in the Room of Requirement on the floor which had transformed to be as soft as a mattress. All around her the ice surfaces reflected her image back at her and before her the bowl filled with a mixture of water, ice, and her blood was still sitting there.

Sighing Harriet sat up and pulled her dream journal from her pocket. Closing her eyes she tried to remember anything at all to write down but found she couldn’t find even a shred of what she had been dreaming about.

Frowning in disappointed she put her journal away before banishing the contents of the bowl.

Feeling dejected she decided that perhaps it was best she follow Luna’s advice. Perhaps she should set her frustrations aside and trust that when the time was right she would begin remembering her dreams again.

Chapter Text

I must not tell lies.

I must not tell lies.

I must not tell lies.

Over and over Harriet had to write out the words, carving them into the back of her hand as the quill tip scratched them across the parchment using her blood in place of ink. The worst part were how many of her friends were filed in around her being forced to do their own lines. There were so many of them present that Umbridge had filled not only her office but the Defense classroom as well. Harriet had good memories in that room once but they had all been tainted by Umbridge.

The reason for the extreme numbers present for detention was Easter Break. Anyone Umbridge did not want going home she ensured received detention just before the break started. Thanks to her latest Educational Decree students with detentions to serve were not able to leave Hogwarts. Thankfully Easter Break was at an end. Come the following night the others would be free. Only Harriet was expected to return as she would be expected to return every night for as long as Umbridge had her way.

The only positives to come out of these detentions was the experience Harriet got in practicing the control and restraint Snape was teaching her and the inspiration it gave George and Fred. By funneling their desires to get back at Umbridge into in fueling their creative effort they’d invented a flood of new products but Harriet didn’t know how long they could go on redirecting. She believed that if Umbridge was still keeping up as she was by the enough of the school year, no reasoning, or threat would be able to hold the twins back from doing something rash. Which was a problem.

They needed to go on behaving. They all did. They could see that when met with a lack of resistance Umbridge was beginning to loose pleasure in tormenting them. Where their detentions had started the Easter break lasting right up to curfew the length had been waning with each passing day. Her thrill came from the power struggle and believing she was fighting for the ministry. As they weren’t providing that she would go on loosing interest.

“Enough,” Umbridge said distractedly as she went through the paper work on her desk. From the look of it she’d found something to see to which couldn’t be done while over seeing them. Hopefully something that would take her away from Hogwarts at least for a little while.

She was already heading for her office as she said, “You are dismissed.”

Harriet’s skin prickled from head to toe as she set her quill aside.

Even though she was most often the voice of reason she understood the twins temptation.

It would be so easy to cause a fuss and bother. They could do all kinds of damage to the room with just there wands and a few quick spells. They could toss the quills out the window. They could lock Umbridge in her room… They could set the door on fire and see if she could make it out alive. There was so much they could do but Umbridge didn’t see them as a threat, because they were neutered. It was by choice. They were choosing not to do anything. That they were choosing it somehow made matters both better and worse.

The Toad was torturing them and she didn’t even seem to really care. Her personal supervision was just perfunctory now. Routine. The same as it was routine for them that they head down as a group to Snape’s classroom for treatment after. He started with Dennis and continued on by working his way up through the group youngest to oldest only skipping Harriet as she needed it less then the others. Once she summoned some ice to rest the wound the pain didn’t bother her as it did them. Part of that was thanks to the fact that for some reason quill didn’t cut as deeply for her as it did with everyone else.

Yet another way she was different. Yet another symptom of her condition to add to the long list.

“Potter,” Snape said holding her back after the healing was done and the others were dismissed. “Your next lesson will have to be cancelled.”

“Sir?”

“Duties,” Snape said putting a stress on the word, “will keep me away tomorrow morning.”

“Not Professorial duties,” Harriet guessed.

“Sadly not,” Snape drawled. “Should you have need of immediate assistance you would be best served going to Dobby or your own Head of House as I will not be on the grounds.”

Harriet nodded in understanding.

“Good luck Sir,” she said though she wasn’t actually worried. Nothing in her had any instinct that something bad would happen, and besides Voldemort hadn’t been sending Snape on any kind of missions or hurting Snape for some time as far as Harriet knew.

“Good night Miss Potter,” Snape replied.

Leaving the classroom behind Harriet joined the others and together they saw Luna back to Ravenclaw Tower before making their way to their own. Along the way they came across some trouble in the form of a few members of the Inquisitorial Squad but gritting their teeth they bared the taunting and bullying before continuing on. There was a mass sigh of relief when they walked through the portrait hole into their own territory. Passing through the common room they headed up to congregate in the boy’s dorm room picking up the few lucky D.A. members who hadn’t been assigned detention as they went.

Once they were locked away with privacy spells in place, Ron complained, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

“Two more months till the end of the school year,” Neville said sounding weary rather than optimistic.

“She’ll let up soon,” Lavender said cradling her hand which had been inflicted with the phrase ‘I must not gossip.’ Words chosen after being caught in the hall talking to Parvati about Harriet’s interview.

Ron snorted. “She’s the Headmistress now. She doesn’t have to do anything but what she wants.”

The twins nodded their agreement.

On that note, with little energy in them for happier subjects the group soon divided off to settle into their own rooms for the night.

After seeing to her nightly routine Harriet retrieved her vanishing box from its hiding place. She’d written to John that morning after her training with Snape and his response was waiting for her inside. Putting her troubles aside she crawled into bed she cuddled down to read John’s news.

Auror training was going well. They had paired him with someone extremely loyal to the Ministry and the Minister but his coworkers were playing nice, trying to win him over to their way of thinking. John was playing nice in return since he wanted things there to work out. He didn’t enjoy it, he looked down on all the people he was ‘making friends’ with, but much like those at Hogwarts were doing what would cause the least waves so too did John.

Hagrid was still doing well on the property John had gotten originally for his brother. Hagrid wasn’t happy about leaving Hogwarts but the Order was keeping him busy and when they weren’t John made sure he was never left to mope. His homesickness was lifted by the fact that Grawp was doing better in his new home than he had in the Forbidden Forest. The giant had spent his first few days there testing the boundaries to see if he could make an escape but once he realized that wasn’t going to happen he began exploring his new space. Having room to move around and things to entertain him was helping Grawp's disposition and Hagrid was finally making some progress with him. Unfortunately he was still too rough in his ‘play’ with Hagrid which Harriet wasn’t thrilled to hear.

Trelawney was greatly enjoying the hotel John had put her up in. It was a place he had stayed himself when he visited magical France. She spent her days being pampered with the occasional break for she providing John with readings and predictions in regard to his business ventures. As she was out of the Ministry’s reach they got to worry less about her getting set up or falsely accused. And when the time came that she would have to move on from France John had a list of recommendations of where she could go next. She currently had her eye on Greece.

Harriet had been interested to learn that most of those ventures Trelawney was advising John about were happening on the muggle side of things in order to avoid the Ministry’s awareness and her opposition interfering. He promised when Harriet came of age he would help her to do the same but Harriet was thinking she would rather invest in people like the twins who wanted to start something new then the established companies and corporations John focused on. It was riskier but she felt it would be more rewarding to see a return on that investment then helping a big businesses grow bigger.

In his latest letter John sent word of his latest acquisition which turned out to be a controlling share in Grunnings, the company Vernon was so proud to work for. Thankfully John wasn’t the type to do something like this without speaking to Harriet about it first. They’d talked about it several times and Harriet gave him her blessing, but she had doubted he would be successful. The Grunnings took pride in it being a family business and a British business.

She knew John wouldn’t have used magic to make them more suggestible. He wouldn’t risk giving the Ministry something like that to use against him. Without magic she reasoned it must have come down to money. Harriet didn’t want to imagine just how much John, a young unknown American must have offered to make the Grunnings even consider selling. John even admitted in his letter that it was for the best she didn’t know. He advised she instead focus on the fact that she now had leverage to use on the Dursleys when summer came. As her cousin was now essentially Vernon’s employer it wouldn’t do for them to mistreat her. Harriet fondly remembered the peace after her first year when the Dursley’s assumed she could do magic outside of school, before Dobby ruined that. It did give her some relief of mind to think they might go back to that kind of relationship again when she returned that summer… If she got to leave school. Umbridge and Fudge were certainly trying to ensure she couldn’t

After his news about Grunnings the letter didn’t have much more to say. When she finished with the disappointingly short letter Harriet set about writing her reply. As usual she chose to leave out any talk of Umbridge and her detentions as she didn’t care to think about them or to make John think about them either. By the time she finished her response the others were all asleep. Once her letter was sent and the vanishing box returned to it's hiding place Harriet followed them to dreamland.

***

Harriet was anxious about something but she didn’t know what. Her stomach was all tangled up and it was putting her off her food. Pushing her breakfast away she looked up at the enchanted ceiling above her. She lost herself in the golden overcast and falling snow until Hermione placed a hand on her arm.

“Harriet, it’s time,” she said severely.

Looking around Harriet could see the food was gone and the other students were heading off. Nodding to Hermione she got to her feet and followed her through the halls until they got to McGonagall’s office. Taking her place at the head of the line Harriet waited to be called inside. Her Head of House was seated at her desk while Umbridge sat lurking in the corner.

“It is time, Miss Potter,” McGonagall said. “What have you decided?”

Harriet looked down at the pamphlets laid out in front of her. She found gaze drawn to the one showing the Ministry’s atrium. She couldn’t look away. Her gut was telling her that was where she needed to be. She was decided on her answer even if she wasn’t thrilled about it. “I’ll go to the Ministry.”

McGonagall nodded solemnly while Umbridge sneered.

“Well I should hope so,” The Toad said haughtily. “Everything’s been arranged.”

Reluctantly McGonagall seemed to agree. Reaching out she placed her hand over Harriet’s. “It will all be for the best. In the end… It will be for the best.”

Umbridge checked the clock in the corner. “It’s time,” she said impatiently.

McGonagall looked as well. “It’s time,” she agreed.

Rising from her seat she guided Harriet over to the fireplace. Collecting a box containing floo powder from the mantel she held it out to Harriet.

“It’s your choice,” she assured but Harriet didn’t feel like it was a choice. This was for the best. This was what she had to do, not just for herself but for everyone else as well.

Taking a handful of powder Harriet stepped forward calling for the Ministry of Magic.

As the floo took her Harriet saw visions in the flames. They flashed by too quickly for her to absorb them all but what little she could see was quickly forgotten as the floo spit her out onto the pavement.

Looking around she spotted the visitor’s entrance she used with John and Mr Weasley to get into the Ministry. Stepping into the phone booth Harriet went through the process to gain entrance. When asked her reason for coming the answer fell automatically from her lips. “It’s time.”

She didn’t clearly remember traveling down into the Ministry. One minute she was in the booth and the next she was in front of the fountain. When she’d first seen the thing Harriet wanted to rip it down. Everything it represented disgusted her. She’d almost said something to Mister Weasley before John suggested they make a wish for her trial to go well.

Off to the side of the Atrium a clock rang out ominously.

Harriet turned to seek out the time but found there were no numbers or hands on the face. Only a declaration. “It Is Time.”

There it was again but time for what? Harriet felt she the answer, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

A sudden attack of horror coursed through her as something twisted around her ankles. With her body locked up her eyes tracked down to see a giant snake tangling itself around her legs. Recognition calmed her fear. It was only Nagini. As quickly as recognition had calmed her confusion slipped in. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t know why she would be happy to see Voldemort’s familiar but she was. She was as happy to see Nagini as she would be to see Hedwig.

A thought whispered in Harriet’s mind. ‘Because she is a part of Voldemort and Voldemort is yours.’ The voice and cadence reminded Harriet of Trelawney when she was delivering a prophecy. She was so preoccupied thinking about the voice that she failed to process what it had said.

“This way Mistress,” Nagini said. As she started to head off, leading the way, the long length of her body slid along Harriet’s ankles.

Memorized by the way the snake moved Harriet watched and followed.

“Nine,” Nagini instructed.

“What,” Harriet asked coming back to herself to find they were in an elevator.

“We must go to level nine,” Nagini answered tilting her head up to look at the elevator controls.

“Right,” Harriet agreed. Reaching out she did her best and succeeded in operating the unfamiliar controls to get them going down.

They arrived at the ninth floor with a ding and the doors opened on their own.

“This way Mistress,” Nagini told her.

Out the snake went and again memorized by the motion of her body Harriet followed after her down a black tiled hallway to a black door and beyond. It was only the sound of whispers traveling through the air that eventually drew Harriet’s attention away. Following the sound as more and more whispering voices joined the choir Harriet made her way through several rooms until she came to one full of rows on rows of towering shelves filled with glowing orbs. The weight from the magical presence of thousands on thousands words of prophecy was consuming. Harriet lost herself in them as they played out, drawing her own magic forward to answer their call in the same way it rose to answer the call of her spells.

“Harriet,” a familiar voice called enticingly. A cold hand cupped her cheek. It felt familiar. It felt like home and relief. “Harriet.”

Slowly she opened her eyes to find Voldemort looking back at her. He was crouching down making them almost of a height. This allowed her to look straight on into his red eyes.

“It is time,” he told her.

“For what,” she asked feeling dreamy and distracted by the whispers and the power of all the prophecies that surrounded them.

“For our final battle,” Voldemort answered.

That was concerning to hear. “But I don’t want to fight you.”

Voldemort looked at her with pity. “I know, but your future shouldn’t be burdened with a Dark Lord. You will rule as a Light Queen with a Dark Knight at your side.”

Harriet scowled. “I don’t want to rule,” she argued. The words felt familiar to her. She thought they might have had this argument before.

Voldemort smiled, amused with her. “You don’t have a choice. You want to help others. You want sense and compassion for the world. You will only get it if you are the one guiding things. People are already looking to you.”

Looking off at the wall a determined expression came over Voldemort’s face.

Following his gaze Harriet saw a clock hanging above the door. Just like the clock in the atrium the numbers and hands were missing and in their place was the message ‘It is time.’

“Harriet,” Voldemort said drawing her attention back.

With Voldemort’s hands cupping her face between both his hands Harriet laid her own over his to hold them in place. His hands were so large that they could cover most of her head. She basked in the touch and the cold he radiated but Voldemort didn’t let her indulge.

“Harriet,” he repeated more sternly. When her attention focused on him he continued earnestly. “Remember, the plan and do not falter. No harm will come to you and when it is over, we will be together,” he promised.

Harriet tried to think what plan he could be talking about but panicking couldn’t recall them ever making any plans. “I don’t know the plan.”

“You do,” he assured her. He tapped a finger against her temple. “It’s all here, inside your head. You just have to trust your instincts.”

Nodding Harriet swallowed. “I can do that.” It’s how she lived most of her life. Doing the opposite and fighting her impulses was where she struggled.

“Good girl,” Voldemort told her smiling with one of the softest expression Harriet had ever seen directed her way.

With his message accepted his body began burn from the inside out becoming a black husk which flaked away to crumble into ash.

“No,” Harriet shouted in horror. “No. No!”

She tried desperately to grab hold of him but he only crumbled quicker under her touch.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged but it was too late. He was gone. Only the ash remained, covering Harriet’s front down to a pile spread out on the floor. Staring down at it Harriet trembled. With tears rolling down from her eyes she whispered brokenly, “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” John’s voice assured her as his arms wrapped around her from behind.

Letting out a hiccuping sob Harriet fell back into him. With relief chasing the grief out of her system she reached up to hold on to him but it wasn’t enough. She was desperate to see him. Turning herself around in his arms all her breath rushed out of her lungs as she took in his face, his whole and alive and undamaged face. He was there. He was alright and alive and there standing before her in his human form with Nagini draped over his shoulders.

“Lord Voldemort’s time must come to an end,” he, John who was Voldemort told her. With her brain muddled by the trauma of what had just happened Harriet was thoroughly confused and horrified at the idea of John in association of an end.

“I don’t understand,” she confessed.

“You will,” he promised her. “When it is done you will. Just follow the plan Harriet.”

“But I don’t know the plan,” she shouted feeling shaken and small by having Voldemort crumble in her arms even if John was still there. Because they were the same. Voldemort was John and John was Voldemort. They were the same person and she’d just seen him die! His ashes still covered her.

“You do,” Voldemort insisted with vehemence. “We have been over it dozens of times. We’ve practiced the dance. You know your steps.”

“But I don’t remember!”

Voldemort's face showed his pain at her upset. With a cold thumb he wiped away her tears. “Shh. Shh,” he comforted her. “Even if you don’t remember. You know.”

“But why don’t I remember,” Harriet asked feeling helpless and lost.

“Because, if you remembered you would have to lie about what you know,” Voldemort told her.

That was not an answer that helped Harriet to understand. Thoroughly exasperated she demanded, “Lie about what!?”

She was done with this all. She just wanted answers. She just wanted to know what was going on so she could do what was best and keep everyone she cared about safe. That was why she was there.

Someone shook her shoulder. Harriet turned to look but she didn’t see a hand to explain the sensation.

“Harriet,” a voice called, a voice she should have recognized but couldn’t.

Feeling a sudden sense of urgency she turned to Voldemort. “Lie about what,” she demanded again.

“Just know Harriet.”

“Know what!”

“Harriet!” Hermione shouted giving her another shake.

It worked as Harriet was pulled into wakefulness. She found herself panting where she lay in her bed with Hermione looking down on her with concern.

“What,” Harriet asked her voice thick with emotion.

“You were crying in your sleep,” Hermione told her.

Blinking Harriet tried to adjust to the reality of her surroundings.

“Hermione,” she asked still reeling.

“You were having a nightmare,” her friend explained rubbing at her arm while putting her dream journal in her hands.

Harriet thought about it. Was it a nightmare? Already she could feel it moving further and further from her grasp. Closing her eyes she latched onto the dream while setting her pen to page. She wasn’t going to let it get away. She’d been at the ministry. John had been there… There was something she needed to remember. No, that wasn’t right. She needed-

Harriet scribbled away what details she could. Unfortunately they were few and far between. When she finished all she could do was sigh and hang her head. Realizing her cheeks were wet with tears she scrubbed them away.

“Harriet,” Hermione asked in concern.

As Harriet looked up at Hermione the memory of the dream traveled completely out of her reach.

“Are you alright?”

Harriet nodded. “I’m alright,” she said even if she didn’t feel it because she was. She was alright. There was nothing physically wrong with her and while she could feel the physical marks that she had recently been upset she didn’t feel the emotions any longer. They had faded with the memory of her dream. There was however something still nagging at her, a feeling that wasn’t fading.

She had the sense there was something she was meant to remember from the dream but she couldn’t. There wasn’t much she could do about that though. She had already tried everything she could think of to remember her dreams and none of it ever worked.

With no lesson with Snape to occupy her that morning, she should have been able to sleep in. But once she was awake, with that feeling nagging at her she was quite incapable of falling back asleep. With nothing to distract Harriet she lost herself to uncertainty and a mounting itch. Giving up on any hope of sleep she called for Dobby and asked him if he could take her to the Room of Requirement. Even if she didn’t have a lesson it didn’t mean she couldn’t practice on her own. After a brief bit of wand work she indulged in a morning swim before returning to the dorms for her shower and the rest of her morning routine. Unfortunately when all was said and done the itch was still present. Usually all her lotions and products and potions helped but that morning they just weren’t proving up for the job.

Looking to give her the distraction she needed Hermione dragged Harriet down to the common room so they could discuss the lesson plan for the next few D.A. meetings. With Harriet’s detentions she could no longer attend the ones that were happening during the week so they were having to find workarounds. It was a subject that worked well for keeping Harriet occupied thinking about other things.

When the time finally came to head down to breakfast the others quickly noticed something wasn’t right with Harriet.

“I just have this feeling,” she explained.

With a hint of nerves Neville asked, “What kind of feeling?”

“I don’t know. It’s… hard to explain.” The others gave her time to find the words but they just wouldn’t come. Sighing with frustration she scratched along her cheek.

Reaching out to pull her hand away, Hermione chided, “Harriet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she admitted dejectedly.

When they got down to breakfast Hermione and Neville started their check to make certain there weren’t any Gryffindors missing. With nothing to do herself until Umbridge was satisfied with attendance and their meal was served, Harriet thought to get out her wolly bag and dig out something to do a reading with, but something stayed her hand.

‘Not here,’ her instincts whispered. ‘Not yet.’

Harriet didn’t understand it. Why would it be better not to know what was coming? Wasn’t being prepared better?

‘You are prepared.’

Well, she didn’t feel prepared… but, there had to be a reason why she felt the way she was feeling.

Listening to her instincts Harriet left her wolly bag alone and distracted herself with making conversation until breakfast arrived. With a limited mealtime she tried to force herself to eat once there was food in front of her, but she just found she couldn’t. With each bite she took Harriet felt more nauseated. Giving up she handed her barely touched plate over to Ron.

“Not hungry,” he asked sounding rightly shocked. They were about even most days as to whose appetite was more insatiable.

Harriet shook her head and ignoring the concerned looks she got turned her gaze up to the enchanted ceiling. A blue cloudless sky stretched out above them. Somehow Harriet was surprised by that. She didn’t know why she should be. It was hardly out of the ordinary, but somehow it didn’t feel expected. With yet another thing creeping up that Harriet didn’t understand the monster under her skin roared. Despite the cooling enchantments on her things and having seen to all her morning routine she felt the itch taking her scalp, arms, nose, eyebrows, and feet.

Frustrated Harriet reached to retrieve one of the booster potion she was meant to take when incidents like this happened.

“Is Umbridge looking,” she asked her friends casually as she didn’t want the attention and questions being spotted drinking a potion would bring her way.

Ginny snuck a look while turning like she was talking to Colin.

“You’re good,” she declared.

Harriet quickly downed her booster. A few minutes later her emotions were more level and the itch was tamed if only slightly. Just to be safe Harriet spent the rest of breakfast sat on her hands to avoid scratching.

As the meal was cleared away and the students rose to leave the hall, Hermione reminded Harriet, “Don’t forget. Half past two you have your appointment with McGonagall.”

Nodding Harriet rubbed at her forehead before forcing herself to pull her hand back. She had in fact forgotten about the career advice she was supposed to receive that day. She wasn’t happy about the fact that it would cause her to miss Divination especially as she didn’t expect her Head of House to entirely approve of the plans Harriet had for her future.

“It’s going to be one of those days,” Harriet grumbled.

The twins pat her on the shoulders sympathetically.

“Think of it this way,” Fred told her.

“At least you aren’t heading off to Defense,” George concluded.

Frowning with sympathy for them, Harriet pat each on the shoulder in return.

“Good luck,” she offered them. “And keep your heads.”

The pair rolled their eyes but nodded solemnly. Harriet hated to see them so dejected. Slowly but surely living under Umbridge’s oppression was tainting their sparkling mischievous spirits into something darker while snuffing out their… light.

Taking a deep breath Harriet reminded herself that soon Umbridge would be gone. One way or another Voldemort’s curse on the Defense Position would see her removed from Hogwarts if nothing else took her out sooner.

Not thinking to question how she knew the specifics of the curse Harriet headed with her friends down to Potions.

“Cheer up. Just think,” Ron said bumping his shoulder into hers. “Next year we don’t have to take potions.”

This started a debate as Hermione argued the merit of taking the class even if they weren’t overly fond of Snape. Harriet had to agree. In classes Snape still acted the part of the greasy Potions Master they had come to despise, but even so his tutoring and their time brewing together had instilled in Harriet an appreciation for the subject that his classes had previously killed. Much to Ron’s disbelief Harriet’s intention was to continue on with the class if she could get the requisite O.W.L. grade required.

“I can’t see how I’d manage the Outstanding needed to carry on with the subject,” Neville admitted glumly. “Thankfully I shouldn’t need the N.E.W.T. unless any of the Master I apply to apprentice under require it. It isn’t likely they would, but there is that chance.”

“There is always independent study,” Hermione pointed out.

“It’s helped me,” Harriet said backing the idea as they entered the Potion’s classroom.

Along the way to their seats they passed Draco sitting ostracized to the back of the room alone as he had been for all of the year. The Slytherins rejected him for preservation’s sake and as far as the rest of the school was concerned Malfoy was still the same git he’d always been. Those who knew better had to pretend they didn’t. Draco looked sickly when he showed up on the Hogwarts express in September but as the months went on he was only looking worse. He wasn’t holding up well under the stress of everything with no one to brace him up. Unlike Cedric Draco truly had to stand on his own. Their was no D.A. to have his back from the shadows.

Fighting down her bizarre guilt for his circumstances, Harriet allowed herself a quick look at him before settling in at her seat.

***

Potions class went by without incident as did lunch but still Harriet couldn’t shake the feeling she didn’t have a reference for. It wasn’t excitement or anticipation but it wasn’t dread either. She was a little nervous but not much. The closest she could think to describe it was the feeling she got right as a game of Quidditch was starting, when they all readied themselves to kick off the ground and her mind was focused on the task and the chance of getting hurt rather than the fun of it all.

Despite Hermione’s warning Harriet was so distracted with trying to dissect what she was feeling that she almost forgot about her meeting with McGonagall. Thankfully she was still there on time. Unfortunately as she walked down the hall she saw Umbridge headed her way with clipboard in hand. Harriet had a sickening feeling she knew what was going to happen. It was be just like Umbridge to use her authority to sit in on this meeting.

Nodding her head to Umbridge as they met at McGonagall’s door, Harriet greeted her, “Headmistress,” and fought down the bile that undeserved show of respect caused.

Umbridge's chest swelled as her eyes flashed with satisfaction. She put on her usual artificially sweet smile but didn’t bother to say anything in reply before heading into Mcgonagall’s office.

Closing her eyes Harriet leaned back against the wall besides the door making it look like she was just patiently waiting.

Back in the autumn John sent her a book he’d found on his travels about mastering ones astral form. It was old and hand written but the instruction it gave her was invaluable. Harriet no longer had to rely on a mirror or ritual to project her astral form out into the world. It still scared Harriet some to embrace her ability to disconnect her awareness from her body but it was a part of her and far too useful a skill to ignore.

Leaving her body behind Harriet floated through the door to spy on the going ons in McGonagall’s office. As much as she would have liked to see her Head of House standing up to Umbridge McGonagall acted the same as she did in the halls and around her students. Besides learning her suspicions were correct, Harriet also learned that not only would Umbridge be sitting in on her meeting but she had also taken over assigning when students would meet with their Head of Houses. Harriet would bet her shares in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that The Toad had only done this to ensure her schedule was free to sit in on the meetings for her special interest students like Harriet and her friends.

Just in case anything interesting came up Harriet waited around to catch every word and only returned to her body when McGonagall made to call her in.

“Potter,” McGonagall said briskly from where she stood framed in the doorway.

“Professor,” Harriet returned, moving to follow her into McGonagall’s smartly decorated office. The pair of them settled into their seats completely ignoring Umbridge’s presence in the corner even with the incessant sound of her quill scratching away at her clipboard. Harriet couldn’t stand it. In her compromised state knowing that woman was at her back made an itch break out all over. Carefully Harriet reopened her inner eye to keep a watch on Umbridge. It was extremely disorientating. Her inner eye wasn’t limited like her physical or astral form. For one thing, it wasn’t directional and it didn’t care very much about how solid an object was. Everything was at least slightly translucent to Harriet through this view, including her own body which she could see. What was most disorientating to her was all the none physical elements she could see. Magic for one thing. The magic in herself, McGonagall, and Umbridge were clear to her as well as all the enchants in the objects around them and even Hogwarts itself. Then there were other things like those Luna had been able to see since her mother’s accident. Most of them that weren’t quite on their plane but some merely lacked a physical form. It was a trippy way of seeing the world around her.

Unfortunately keeping her inner eye open for more than a quick peek gave Harriet a headache, but as long as she didn’t strain for too long she could recover quickly once she stopped. And at least unlike when she was projecting her astral form, when Harriet opened her inner eye she stayed connected to her body in a way that meant she didn’t have to worry about forgetting to do things like breathe and blink and respond to the stimuli around her.

With Umbridge in her view it was easier for Harriet to relax and focus on McGonagall even with all the distracting things she could see along with The Toad now that her inner eye was open.

“Well, Potter, as I assume you know this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have. Then we will discuss which subjects you should consider continuing through your sixth and seventh year,” McGonagall said tersely. She had never been an overtly warm or jovial person but having Dumbledore gone and Umbridge loitering on made her disposition more frigid. Harriet figured McGonagall had to go cold to keep her composure. “Have you any thought as to what careers you might be interested in?”

Harriet took a deep breath. “Actually I hadn’t planned on having any kind of career,” she admitted.

Behind her Umbridge came to a stop in her writing as she looked up with interest.

Across the desk McGonagall looked surprised but not shocked. “Your intention is to pursue starting a family after you leave Hogwarts?”

It wasn’t an uncommon thing in the magical world. Those with the means or relatives to support them could and did put off finding employment to look for a spouse instead in the hopes of getting to the business of starting a family. It wasn’t just girls either. The boys would do it too. It left a person free to travel abroad or to step into a roll at their spouse’s family business if there was an opening. Unfortunately generally finding work after getting married was mostly the boys lot not the girls. The girls would often continue to go without working as they took care of the home and focused on getting pregnant. This wasn’t looked down on in the magical world any more than it was for a witch to devote herself to her career or craft. Harriet didn’t personally look down on those who chose it either. She respected Mrs Weasley as much as she respected McGonagall. It just wasn’t what she wanted for herself.

“Er, no. I’m not thinking about that. At least not yet,” she added. Harriet wasn’t willing to completely discount the possibility that one day she might want to have kids just because it wasn’t in her plans of the moment.

McGonagall’s brow pinched. “Then what is it you intend.”

Feeling awkward Harriet shrugged. “I don’t quite know yet.”

A look of comprehension came over McGonagall’s face. “That isn’t unheard of for someone your age and of your background. Having little exposure to the magical world you wouldn’t know what is available.”

Bypassing her pamphlets McGonagall reached into her desk and pulled out a thick book which she placed between them. Harriet recognized the volume immediately. It was a book listing all the occupations available in the magical world, in Britain anyway. John had sent her a copy of it as well as the equivalents from every region he visited so she could see what was available where and compare how different magical societies differed when it came to employment.

“Now then,” McGonagall said focusing on the papers in Harriet’s folder. Proudly she reported, “I see your performance has improved in all your subjects this year.”

Behind her Harriet could see Umbridge didn’t agree with something about what McGonagall had said. Off in her corner The Toad cleared her throat to get their attention. It was a very tiny cough which McGonagall ignored so Harriet did as well.

“I myself have noted steady advancement since the start of the school year.”

“Thank you Professor,” Harriet replied, timing her words to cover Umbridge’s forthcoming cough from being heard. She smiled as Umbridge frowned behind her. She may not allow herself to prank and outwardly rebel against the woman any longer but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have her little pleasures.

“Even Professor Snape has noted an increase in your skill. With your chosen electives and the expected grades you should receive on your forthcoming O.W.L.s there are many options available to you.”

“That is nice to hear,” Harriet said speaking again over Umbridge’s attempts to gain attention via clearing her throat. Umbridge’s face was starting to go a little flushed with frustration.

It would be easy to let McGonagall tell her what options she had and pretend she wasn’t certain yet, but instead Harriet went with the truth. “But, I do have an idea of what I want.”

“You do,” McGonagall asked perplexed by what she perceived to be contradicting statements.

“Yes… I don’t I intend to work.”

McGonagall’s brow creased to the most severe degree Harriet had ever seen from her Professor previously. Harriet had to worked very hard not to shrink under the disapproval she felt coming her way.

Breaking the silence that sat between them Umbridge cleared her throat. Gratefully Harriet turned away from her Head of House to face The Toad.

McGonagall, unable to pretend she hadn’t heard Umbridge asked, “May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?”

“Oh no, thank you very much,” Umbridge declined the offer, tacking a simpering laugh onto the end that induced an itch behind Harriet’s ears.

Full of false concern Umbridge turned her attention from McGonagall to Harriet. “Miss Potter, how exactly do you intend to get by if you are not married, not working, and have no parents to support you? Surely you don’t expect others to step in and look after you?

“No Headmistress,” Harriet said forcing her jaw to remain loose despite her disgust with this Toad having that title. “I intend to invest leaving my days free to use them as I wish whether that be volunteering, travel, or continuing my education.”

There was a twitch in Umbridge’s cheek.

“You intend to invest the Potter legacy,” Mcgonagall asked sounding skeptical. It wasn’t an unheard of thing to do. For some, like the Malfoys, it had served the family well. For others it had led to ruin after generations of prosperity. The Potters traditionally never invested in anything but themselves. Every generation found their passion and used it to maintain if not expand the inheritance they received for those who would come after. But just because something was traditional didn’t mean that was how things had to stay.

Before Harriet could respond Umbridge cut in. Some of her sour center was showing through her sweet facade. “Do pardon my saying so but given that James Potter and his wife never worked there cannot be much of a fortune left now can there.”

Harriet was under no obligation to reveal this but she felt the need to defend her parents. “Quite the opposite Headmistress. The Potters have never felt the need to flaunt our wealth or to spend it unwisely. While my Father and Mother had not yet chosen to pursue a career before their deaths they were both very inventive individuals and sold some of their creations on.”

“Had they,” Umbridge asked unhappy with this revelation.

“They had,” McGonagall said supporting Harriet’s claim.

Though she’d physically been looking at Umbridge, with her inner eye still open Harriet was able to watch the surprise which took McGonagall’s face as she remember that which Harriet was talking about. When they’d graduated it was true that her parents hadn’t gotten jobs. They were too busy fighting for the Order in the war. It wasn’t until they were stuck in hiding that they turned to innovation and invention to help fill the days and give them an outlet. Many things they kept to themselves and the Order but some of their discoveries they did sell on.

McGonagall was giving Harriet a considering look. “Very well Potter. Given that you do not intend to pursue a specific career you needn’t worry about meeting requirements. I would prefer to see you take at least five classes, but what you choose to continue or not is entirely up to you. ”

Taking a deep breath Harriet put forward, “I’d like to continue with all my class to NEWT levels ma’am but to take Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic as selfstudy.”

McGonagall blinked at her with shock. Harriet felt a little thrill at having so thoroughly blow her over even if Umbridge was rolling her eyes and pursing her lips in the background as she went back to her scribbling.

“All,” McGonagall asked to confirm.

“All,” Harriet agreed with a confident nod.

Folding her hands on her desk McGonagall leaned forward. “Harriet, I am happy to see that you wish to continue taking your studies here at Hogwarts seriously. However, eight N.E.W.T level classes would be strenuous for the best of students and ten may very well prove to be too much.

Harriet shrugged. “If it’s too much I can drop a course or two. Besides, when time for testing comes I don’t have to sit the N.E.W.T.s for all the subjects I’m eligible for. Some of them can be put off for the summer sitting at the Ministry or for years down the line.

“I see you’ve given this some thought.”

“And talked it over with several people.”

“Well then,” McGonagall said settling back in her chair. Harriet could see she was thinking about something. By the way McGonagall’s eyes flickered to Umbridge and her clipboard Harriet had the feeling there were things she wanted to say but wasn’t willing to in front of the Headmistress. “It seems everything is decided. Given that you get the requisite O.W.L. scores you will be continuing with ten classes next year Potter.”

Harriet smiled at her and saw a hint of a smile in return.

“Dismissed,” McGonagall declared.

Harriet bowed to her Deputy and Head Mistress respectively before heading out into the hall. When she pulled the door shut behind her she closed her inner eye and projected her astral self back the way she had come to spy on the pair inside.

McGonagall had already lost her smile and Umbridge was looking smug.

“It is a shame,” Umbridge said started in on a goading rant about how little Harriet would be able to accomplish in life and how she was setting herself up for disappointment and failure. McGonagall gave a calm headed rebuttal but Umbridge persisted until McGonagall snap with The Toad following right behind her. Voices were raised. Accusations were thrown around. Umbridge per usual was a paranoid Ministry sycophant and it was clear that McGonagall was feeling the strain of the year.

Pulling her astral self back into her body Harriet took a deep breath and rubbed at her forehead. For once it wasn’t about the itch, though that was there. Between her upset at seeing McGonagall pushed so far and the strain of leaving her inner eye open for that length of time a headache was blooming in her temples.

From her bag Harriet pulled out her pocket watch to check the time. She could still make it to Divination, but wasn’t certain she wanted to go. Hitting the hidden release on the cover of the watch she opened to its secret second face. There, was a miniature version of a clock like the one the Weasley’s had with the hands each representing a person Harriet cared about. Unlike the Weasley clock hers did not say where a person was, only how they were doing. Her own hand was in the well range but leaning towards the side that pointed towards some level of discomfort, pain, or upset. John’s was in a similar positioning which Harriet wasn’t pleased to see. The rest of the hands on the clock which Harriet had spelled with Bill’s help over the Winter Break showed that the rest of the people she cared about were spaced between well leaning towards happiness and other good feelings.

Closing that face Harriet looked at the time again. She should go to class, but feeling itchy and in pain and still off as she had been all day, Harriet decided instead to head off to the Room of Requirement for a quick second swim. She hoped that the cold and the exercise might help her feel better but those hopes weren’t high.

***

Sitting on his throne Voldemort looked down on his followers bowed before him.

“My Lord,” Lucius said trying his best to hold still but unable to stop the slight trembling running through his body. “Everything is prepared as you requested. Our way has been secured.”

With his voice projected out through Lucius’ once opulent ballroom Voldemort declared, “Then my friends, it is time. Tonight we shall reveal the truth of my return to all and change the future of the wizarding world forever more.”

Chapter Text

Of course after a long day of itchiness, odd feelings, and classes Harriet still had to submit to her nightly detention with Umbridge. Thankfully her friends were not expected to attend sparing them from the blood quills, leaving Harriet to sit alone with The Toad in her office.

Being Headmistress with no instruction from her predecessor nor access to the Headmaster’s office was providing Umbridge with a number of problems even with the student body and staff submitting to her dictatorship. From what Harriet could tell Hogwarts itself wasn’t fond of Umbridge’s rule over its charges and so was giving her trouble or maybe it was just the ambient magic on the grounds responding to the students desires. Then there were Umbridge’s Ministry duties on top of that. Like Dumbledore she was always coming and going to go see to the obligations of her multiple positions. Unlike Dumbledore she didn’t trust her staff enough to delegate.

The Minister himself had been busy indeed over the last year trying to fill the papers with positive press. While he was occupied with that his administration was busy pushing change and new legislation. Creating the appointment of High Inquisitor and stripping Dumbledore of his positions were only a few raindrops in a storm compared to all the rest they’d been doing with the worst of what they intended yet to come. Umbridge was Fudge’s most fervent supporter was leading the charge.

Fifteen minutes after Harriet’s detention began there was a flare from Umbridge’s fireplace and the head of no other than Fudge appeared.

“Deloris,” he said sounding agitated. “Are you free?”

“Minister,” Umbridge replied her voice going up with surprise and titillation. Remembering herself she cut a sharp look to Harriet. “Dismissed Miss Potter.”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise Harriet set down the damned quill and left with two pairs of eyes following after her. From there she reported to Snape to let him see to her hand before heading up to Gryffindor Tower. As she trudged up the last staircase she was very much ready for the day to be done. Harriet didn’t think she would be able sleep. Not when that odd feeling that was almost anticipation and nerves was still thrumming through her veins. Like caffeine it would keep her awake and aware despite how tired she was but hopefully she could at least rest.

Coming to a stop at the portrait hole Harriet absently gave the password while scratching at her arm. She was so focused on the itch that it took her a moment to notice the way hadn’t opened for her. Looking up she saw the Fat Lady looking down on her with weariness.

“What’s the matter,” Harriet asked.

“You didn’t give the right password dear,” she was told.

Harriet frowned. “Didn’t I?”

“No,” the Fat Lady said still eyeing her with funnily.

Confused Harriet asked, “Then what did I say?”

“You didn’t say anything… You hissed.”

Harriet blinked. “I gave the password in Parseltongue?”

It was the Fat Lady’s turn to frown. She looked insulted. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know what that should sound like.”

Harriet eyes went unfocused as she tried to wondered why she might have answered in Parseltongue. Thinking about it she could almost grasp the answer. It was just out of reach. She felt like she could almost grasp it if only she could-

“Would you care to try again,” the Fat Lady asked calling Harriet back.

Hoping the word would coming out in English Harriet ventured, “Uh, iota?”

In answer the portrait swung open revealing the common room.

“Harriet,” Ginny exclaimed from the her seat by the fireplace making the rest of the room aware of her presence. Her friends were all surprised to see her coming through so early and eager to find out what had happened. As Harriet settled on the couch between Hermione and Neville she told them about the abrupt end to her detention.

Happy to actually have her with them for the evening the group settled in together to chat and have a good time but Harriet couldn’t get in the swing of things. Since getting back to Gryffindor tower that feeling she’d been having all day was only growing. She found herself zoning out time and again as she tried to examine what she was feeling and why.

Their group was aware of what Harriet had been feeling and were getting concerned that it was only worsening. Even those most cynical of divination and the Sight were troubled, suspicious over what might be coming to have Harriet wound up the way she was. After many anxious looks were exchanged around her Hermione put a hand on Harriet’s arm pulling her attention out of herself and back to the room

“Sorry. What was that,” she asked, thinking someone had asked her a question.

Looking down at Harriet’s wolly bag which she’d been fiddling with Hermione suggested, “Maybe you should do a reading?”

Harriet blinked at Hermione as she was usually the first to turn up her nose at Harriet’s relying on Divination first and foremost.

The others voiced their agreement to the idea. Harriet noticed even some Gryffindors outside their group were watching discreetly with interest.

Looking down at her wolly bag Harriet found that for the first time all day there was no voice telling her not to look. Without reservations holding her back, Harriet opened the pouch and pulled out her things for a tea reading. With what she wanted laid out she set up a small fire over which went her kettle once she’d filled it from her wand.

“I don’t suppose you would read mine while you’re at it. Maybe you’ll be able to give me an idea how I’ll do on my O.W.L.s,” Dean said jokingly but once Harriet agreed more people threw their hats in asking if Harriet would give them a reading as well. Thankfully Harriet had received so many tea sets in the last two years that she had enough cups stored away in her wolly bag for everyone. When the water was at a boil she started with the ceremony of pouring and presenting the tea to everyone. By the time she was finished with the last Ron was ready with his cup emptied for her.

“Here,” he said holding it out to Harriet who took it in her spare hand as her dominate was preoccupied with holding her own cup.

Letting her eyes travel over Ron’s dredges, Harriet frowned.

Concerned by her expression Ron asked, “What is it?”

The rest of the room went tense with anticipation when rather than answering Harriet continued to examine the cup.

“Harriet,” Ron demanded nervous about what she was seeing. When she finally looked up at him he swallowed down his nerves to ask more calmly, “What is it?”

Looking back down at the cup Harriet declared, “Change.”

Nonplus Ron asked, “…Change.”

“What kind of change,” Neville asked leaning over to look at the cup for himself.

“Is Umbridge going to quit,” Dennis cut in excitedly.

“A change of fortune,” Harriet said incredibly confused. “A change for the better.”

Confusion infected the room as they’d been expecting something dire, not this.

“Good change,” Ron asked for confirmation.

“Good change,” Harriet agreed while continuing to frown down at his cup. She did not understand how this lined up with what she’d been feeling all day, but the cup was very clear. A change of fortune for the better. She’d only seen these signs once before and they were just as clear now as they were then. It was the same as the morning she had first heard from John.

Sharing a look George and Fred toast their cups to each other before linking their arms and downing what was left of their tea.

“Try ours,” they said distracting Harriet with their offerings.

Setting Ron’s and her own cup aside Harriet took their cups and brought them in to read. They’d found in the past that it was best she look at both the twins cups at once to get an accurate reading as their futures were so closely intertwined. She studied the leaves with a frown on her face that became stormy as she spotted the message in the remains. Thumping down their cups she picked up her own. Finishing it like a shot she glared down at what was inside. Feeling a little shaky Harriet put her own cup down on the table. Bringing Ron’s, the twins, and her own together she looked down at them all together. She stared at what was laid out in front of her, having a hard time believing what she was seeing.

“Harriet,” Neville asked concerned as the consternation on her face gave way to indignation.

Looking up Harriet’s glare turned on his empty cup. “Give me ,” she demanded reaching out. Neville instinctually pulled away from her anger but Harriet managed to snatch his cup out of his hand despite his flinching.

She stared at his cup for a few seconds before giving it a glare as she set it with the others.

“Harriet,” Ginny asked cautiously.

She looked up to find a room of anxiously faces looking back at her.

“Everyone finish your cups,” she ordered. It took some a bit but they all obeyed, draining their cups and handing them over for a cursory inspection from Harriet before being added to the rest on the table. When every last cup had been read Harriet stared at the collection more offended than anyone in the room could recall seeing her.

When Harriet continued to do nothing but glare in silence at the collection she had amassed, Hermione took the bull by the horns. Leaning forward she inspected the cups for herself. The first was unremarkable to her as was the second it was at the third that something began to nag at her. When Hermione went back to look at the previous cups her own face took on a frown similar to Harriet’s. Standing up Hermione looked down on all the cups at once with a bird’s-eye view. What she saw left her staring down dumbly at what she was laid out before her.

“You’ve noticed it then,” Harriet asked sounding grumpy and still glaring.

“But how can that be,” Hermione asked incredulously.

Fed up Ron got up to look for himself with Neville and some of the others doing the same.

“Noticed what,” he demanded as he picked up one of the cups to examine this way and that.

Hermione looked to Harriet and seeing that she showed no sign of answering did it for her. “All the cups. They are the same.”

“Wa’,” Ron asked looking at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured to the table. “All the tea leaves are laid out in the same way. Each cup is identical.”

With a deep scowl still on her face and her eyes glaring ahead Harriet agreed, “They’re all the same.”

“All a good change of fortune,” Neville asked as he took in for himself the truth of what Hermione and Harriet were saying. A few people picked up a cup or two to compare and show to those around them. The commotion had frawn the attention of all the room in to see what the fuss was about. There was murmuring and speculation as Neville sat himself back down besides Harriet. “What does it mean when a room full of people have the same reading?”

Quieting down the room looked to Harriet, eager to hear the answer, but seeing that she still seemed stuck in staring at the cups they turned to Hermione as their fountain of knowledge.

“I don’t know,” she admitted crossing her arms under her chest.

The crowd looked around at each other not knowing what to feel when they didn’t know what it meant.

“It’s got to mean something important,” Lavender said working her way through examining all the cups.

Looking excited Parvati nodded in agreement. “We could go get our divination text book and see what it has to say?”

Hermione, unable to help herself, snorted at the idea of that text proving helpful for anything more than a doorstop.

Several glances were turned Harriet’s way but she still hadn’t moved from glaring at the cups.

Huffing Ginny went over to stand in front of her, blocking the view. When Harriet finally looked up Ginny gestured to the cups and asked, “What does it mean?”

It didn’t matter much that Ginny was standing in front of her. Harriet hadn’t been looking at the cups with her green eyes. She’d been examining them in other ways. First on the astral plan to check no one was ghosting about, messing with them and then with her inner eye. She could see the hints of magic left on the cups and the leaves but it was all either her own or that of those who drank from the cup. If there was trickery going on Harriet couldn’t see it.

Reaching around Ginny Harriet picked up one of the cups and rolled it between her hands. Looking at it all she could think were three words.

“It is time,” she hissed out.

Around her the room startled.

She looked at them all in surprise. “What?”

“You spoke in Parseltongue,” Hermione answered her as one of the few who weren’t disturbed by the ability. Most people were upset to hear the hissed words coming from Harriet’s mouth. Collin and Dennis were the only two who looked excited to have gotten to hear it.

“Really? I did that earlier too,” Harriet commented looking back down at the cup. She wasn’t feeling as startled by the revelation as she thought she should. Now that it had time to sink in she was feeling rather comforted by the readings from the cups. All of them, every last one of them would be experiencing a change for the better. After all the bad changes which came their way this year Harriet felt they deserved it.

“So,” Ron said having trouble asking what he wanted to.

Harriet hummed encouragingly.

“What did you say?”

Harriet looked up at everyone looking back at her. She focused very hard on the fact that she was speaking to humans and not snakes before answering.

“It is time,” she said the words coming out in English.

Everyone looked at her expectantly but when she said nothing more they looked to each other to see if someone else knew something about the phrase that they did not. Met with only vague looks, head shakes, and shrugs, Ginny turned back to Harriet. “Time for what,” she asked directly.

“I don’t know,” Harriet admitted, a bubble of irritation breaking through her calm. Taking a deep breath her face set with determination. “Lets find out shall we?”

Using her wand she spelled all the cups to the far side of the table. Considerately Lavender and Parvati began spelling them clean and into stacks so Harriet could have more room to work. Seeing what they were doing others joined in. Harriet smiled at them all gratefully before turning her attention back to divining.

First she started with the ash from the fire on which she had heated the water. She’d been too distracted preparing the leaves and seeing to the number of cups needed to watch the flames themselves so the ash would have to do. Inspecting it she looked at how it had naturally gathered before moving it this way and that, changing her perspective before placing her hand in it to study how it marked her palm.

With a sigh she looked up at those around her. “The same message. A good change of fortune. The only thing more I’m getting is a sense of relief. I can’t tell how much of that is divined and what’s my emotions contaminating the read,” Harriet explained as she spelled her hands clean and then banished the rest of the ash.

“What does it mean if it’s ‘a change of fortune’ rather than another sign,” Hermione asked with a scrunch face as she tried to recall for herself.

“Something big isn’t it,” Pavirti asked looking to Lavender who nodded her agreement then to the others who took divination who looked back to her with no idea.

Having remembered Lavender explained to the room, “A change of fortune is a change to your life’s path. It’s a big deal. Like finding your true love.”

“It would have to be something really big, like huge to change all of our lives though wouldn’t it,” Dean asked.

“Maybe Dumbledore’s coming back,” Ron suggested hopefully.

Several of the other’s perked up at the idea.

“Or like young Dennis said,” Fred supplied.

George continued on. “Maybe the Toad’s getting sacked.”

“That certainly would be a positive change,” Ginny agreed.

“You did say Fudge didn’t sound happy,” Ron proposed.

“Maybe you should try another medium,” Lavender suggested excitedly. She’d been a fan of divination from the start and always loved to see Harriet work. Whenever Harriet wanted a volunteer to practice reading with Lavender was always willing to lend her palm, or drink tea, or whatever else Harriet asked of her.

Nodding Harriet positioned her wand and started on the familiar routine of forming an ice bowl. She’d done it so many times she barely had to think to do it. First she would form the bowl, then holding it in one hand she would fill it from her wand. Once the bowl was full Harriet would move the tip of her wand to the bottom of the bowl and cast the freezing charm. Slowly the water would begin to freeze under Harriet’s watchful eye. Since learning to use her inner eye to view the world around her she had taken to using it in this process as well. The results were a much less ambiguous then what she could See when looking with her physical gaze.

As Harriet watched the water freeze all emotion left her face. She lost herself in the act of Seeing. Around the room everyone watched with a few whispered conversations and questions among the crowd. After several minutes Harriet blinked, her face returning to life as she put both her wand and the bowl down on the table.

“What is it,” Lavender asked eagerly.

“There will be an owl coming,” Harriet said slowly as she processed what she had seen, getting it organized in her head.

“A what,” Ron asked confused.

Less than a second later there was a loud rapping on the window that startled the group.

Wrapped in Gryffindor courage Ginny moved to the window and opened it allowing a large intimidating looking owl to swoop into the room. It made a lap of the ceiling, studying them, before dropping its delivery down to Harriet who caught the letter from the air.

“It’s always a bit cool and spooky both when she gets stuff right like that,” Seamus whispered to which Dean nodded his agreement.

“Who is it from,” Ginny asked having returned from closing the window after the owl made its exit.

“The Minister,” Harriet answered.

“What does he want,” Ron asked while Harriet handed the letter off to Hermione who she knew would be the most eager to read it for herself.

“I’m being summoned to the Ministry,” Harriet explained feeling oddly calm about it.

“What for,” Ron asked taking the letter from Hermione who rolled her eyes at his behavior before taking it back.

“He doesn’t say,” Harriet told Ron and with him the rest of the room. “Just that I’ll be expected to comply when Umbridge takes me in at her earliest convenience.”

“Well… this may be a good thing right,” Ron said gesturing to the stacked cups.

“Maybe,” Hermione said skeptically. Once upon a time Hermione wouldn’t have thought poorly of the Ministry but since the night they believed Buckbeak had been put down and then hours later learned Sirius was innocent of all charges and had never received a trial Hermione’s expectations of authority had been forever compromised.

“What did the ice show you,” Lavender asked not having forgotten it with the arrival of the owl like the others had.

“It showed the owl, the letter, and Umbridge taking me to the ministry,” Harriet answered.

“When did it show you leaving,” Hermione asked.

“Now.” Harriet answered looking up at the portrait hole as it swung open.

“Miss Potter,” came Umbridge’s sickeningly voice from outside as she had a clear view of Harriet’s friend group. Her face was its usual mix of sour and rot covered with a thin veneer of sweet smile as if it did anything to hide her true nature. As the group parted for her, she spotted the letter in Hermione’s hand. “Ah, I see you have received your summons. Good. I assume you’re ready to be going?”

“Now,” Hermione asked with a look at the clock in the corner.

“Yes, now Miss Granger,” Umbridge told her while fussing with the cuff of her jacket. “I am a very busy woman, as all who work so closely with the Minister are. Miss Potter should be grateful I’m taking the time to escort her.”

Hermione frowned, looking ready to push. Harriet put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Is there anything I need to bring Headmistress? The letter didn’t say.”

Umbridge gave her a condescending look. “If you’d needed anything the Ministry would have made you aware.”

Harriet could have argued against that. The change to the time of her trial would have made a nice example of the Ministry failing to supply pertinent information, but, she wasn’t meant to be stirring up Umbridge so Harriet held her tongue.

Retrieving her wand Harriet left her wooly bag on the table. “Then I’m ready Headmistress.”

“Are you sure,” Ron asked despite knowing that at the end of the day there was little they could do against Umbridge. Dumbledore’s being run off from Hogwarts had proven that to them all, but if Harriet wanted to put up a fight he would stand beside her.

“We could try to come with you,” Hermione offered just as willing as Ron to stick by her friend’s side no matter how futile the struggle.

“Good change coming, remember,” Harriet said pulling Hermione in for a hug. In a low whisper she added, “Look after my things?”

Hermione’s eyes cut down the wolly bag on the table. “You’re not taking them?”

Harriet shook her head. “I don’t want anything getting confiscated. Dad’s cloak is in there. Trewlaney’s heirloo-”

Umbridge cleared her throat impatiently. “Miss Potter,” she said tersely.

Harriet pulled back from Hermione who gave her a nod of understanding. “You can leave it to us.”

Harriet smiled at her. “Coming Headmistress,” she called over her shoulder.

Leaving some of the people she cared about most with little more than a wave goodbye, she followed after one of the people she hated most in the world. Harriet had no idea what she was in for that night but if Umbridge and Fudge revealed they had been Mr and Mrs Weasley using polyjuice potion the whole time or something equally ridiculous like the Ministry trying to arrest her Harriet might just give up on her sanity. As it was she expected nothing so shocking would be happening. By the time her long night was over hindsight had her thinking differently.

Chapter Text

Harriet had a mixed past with magical travel. It seemed like anything that wasn’t flying led to disaster in one way or another. As such she was pleasantly surprised when she managed to exit the floo with a measure of grace. What was a less than pleasant surprised was arriving in Umbridge’s office at the Ministry to find two imposing figures waiting for their arrival. Harriet greeted them with an attempt at a polite smile, but the pair looked back at her with absolute disdain. One even verging on disgust.

The two put Harriet on guard. She sensed these were not men she should be around. Her fingers twitched for her wand but she was able to fight off the impulse. Harriet knew she couldn’t afford to be seen doing anything remotely illegal or aggressive during this visit. Not with all the enemies she had there. Umbridge and Fudge and their ilk would just love an excuse to give her more trouble.

Locked in a staring match with the two across from her Harriet forgot what she was meant to be doing until Umbridge complained from behind her. “Miss Potter, do move out of my way.”

Turning Harriet saw The Toad standing just outside floo, only just beyond the flames of the fireplace as there was no where else for her to go with Harriet in her path.

Quickly stepping aside Harriet apologized on reflex. “Sorry.”

At the sharp look Umbridge sent her way Harriet corrected, “Headmistress. Sorry Headmistress.”

“That will be Madam Undersecretary while we are in the hallowed halls of the Ministry Miss Potter,” Umbridge corrected turning up her nose.

“Of course Madam Undersecretary,” Harriet said with a deferential nod which she turned into a slight bow just to be safe. She was deep in enemy territory at the moment and as such she was going to go above and beyond to behave no matter how much treating The Toad with such meekness made Harriet want to scratch all her skin off.

Taking Harriet’s reaction as her due Umbridge moved along without a word of acknowledgement. The drawing of her wand made Harriet tense but Umbridge had only pulled it out to banish the evidence of floo travel from her person before, reluctantly, doing the same for Harriet. Once this common courtesy was carried out she looked at Harriet expectantly.

“Thank you Madam Undersecretary,” Harriet said using all her control to keep her true feelings out of her voice.

Umbridge gave a nod and checked the bow in her hair before finally turning to acknowledge to the two men in the room. Given her calm Harriet assumed she had expected them to be there despite the fact that she had given no mention of it before they left Hogwarts.

“Croaker. Bode,” Umbridge greeted in her usual falsely sweet voice, though it lacked the veiled contempt Harriet was used to hearing in it.

“Madam Undersecretary,” one of the men replied.

The names sounded familiar to Harriet. She had to give the men’s faces further consideration to recall why.

The expressions and the way they held themselves was very different, but Harriet realized she did know the pair. Well, not know. She didn’t feel comfortable claiming to know someone she had only met once in passing. The one to speak was Saul Croaker, an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries. The other was another Unspeakable named Broderick Bode. They had passed the Weasleys' campsite at the Quidditch World Cup. Harriet was surprised she could recall them at all given how little impact they had made in their sort meeting.

“Ma’am,” Harriet asked to draw Umbridge’s attention.

“Yes, Miss Potter?”

“May I ask what is happening?”

Umbridge sneered. She wasn’t bothering to play at civility now that they were away from Hogwarts. “Don’t you already know? Surely a Seer with the proficiency you claim to possess doesn’t need anyone to give her answers.”

Harriet fought off a grimace but she didn’t completely succeed. If she had the smug satisfaction that took over Umbridge’s face wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to have Umbridge be the one to knock her down in that way. Even less so as there was nothing Harriet could allow herself to say. Any come back would only get her in trouble.

Croaker thankfully provided a distraction. “It may be best she knows what is happening. It would not do for her to make trouble where we are going.”

Umbridge gave a squeaky snort at the idea of Harriet not causing trouble but waved her acceptance. “Very well.”

“Miss Potter,” Croaker said directing his words to Harriet. His voice was carefully neutral but his face betrayed his feelings for her. She got the impression that to him she was a slug gorging away at a prize winning garden. She supposed this meant in the conflict between her truth and the Ministry’s lies he had chosen to side with the Ministry. “We have been made aware of a prophecy regarding yourself which the Ministry has an interest in viewing. You have been summoned here today so this prophecy can be retrieved from the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Any acting out or indulgence in curiosity on your part could be catastrophic. As such, you will do as you are told and nothing else.”

“Too right,” Umbridge said. She gave Harriet a beady eyed glare. “Let us be very clear Miss Potter. Any misbehavior or disrespect on your part tonight will result in your permanent expulsion from Hogwarts. There will be no trial for you to dispute the matter and Dumbledore will be powerless to assist you. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes Head- I mean, yes Madam Undersecretary,” Harriet agreed even as she panicked.

She had an awful feeling she knew exactly which prophecy they were discussing. Thanks to some spying she’d done on the Order over Christmas Harriet learned Voldemort was trying to get to a prophecy regarding the pair of them. They hadn’t given any specifics about the predication and Harriet hadn’t been willing to let it go. Later that night she sat Sirius down and demanded answers. He probably would not have said anything if there had been anyone else around, but that is precisely why Harriet had waited until it could be just the two of them.

Having to face her on his own with her pleading eyes Sirius cracked, and told her all he knew which sadly wasn’t much. He knew there was a prophecy about her. He knew Trelawney had delivered it in front of Dumbledore. He knew that the Prophecy was the reason Voldemort had targeted them and her parents took them in to hiding. What he knew beyond that had everything to do with where the prophecy was stored and Voldemort’s efforts to get it and nothing about the actual words.

Harriet could only see the Ministry taking an interest in the prophecy after all this time because it was something Voldemort had brought about. If she went along with this Harriet expected she would be playing right into Voldemort’s plan. If the prophecy was retrieved and the words heard a transcript probably find its way to a Death Eater then back to the Dark Lord. But what could she do? If she refused Umbridge would force her hand and Harriet would be punished for her insubordination.

Despite her best efforts Harriet could think of no better option than going along with retrieving the prophecy until she could think of a less disastrous course of action

Following where Umbridge led with the pair of Unspeakables bringing up the rear they headed out into the hall where three others were waiting to join her escort. Though Umbridge greeted them by name, The Toad did not bother to introduce Harriet. They could be Unspeakables, Aurors, or simple office administrators she was dealing with but Harriet didn’t know which. They could be hit wizards for all Harriet knew. All three gave her the same sense of danger she got from Croaker and Bode but that could be for a number of reasons. Sometimes people make you uncomfortable. It wasn’t always a supernatural warning.

Reaching down Harriet scratched at her hip as they proceeded down the corridor.

They only made it a dozen or so steps before Percy appeared, turning the corner onto their intended path. Harriet smiled with relief at the sight of him, but that smile died quick as she remembered he wasn’t someone she could rely on to help her. She’d forgotten, just for a moment, that he was no longer on her side. She didn’t think Percy would ever purposely entrap her, but she couldn’t trust him not to choose Fudge over her about her any more than she could any other Ministry sycophant.

Spotting them Percy stopped in his tracks to called out to Umbridge. “Madam Undersecretary, thank goodness. The Minister sent me to fetch you immediately. Word has come regarding Dumbledore and you are needed.”

With his news delivered Percy promptly turned back the way he came, leaving Umbridge no time to ask any questions. Looking torn her head swiveled between Harriet and the spot Percy had just stood.

“Best not to keep the Minister waiting Madam,” Croaker advised. “We’ll take care of the prophecy. Both it and Potter will be delivered to the Minister’s office shortly.”

That was all the assurance Umbridge needed. With little more than a nod she set off down the hall in a bizarre form of speed walking, abandoning Harriet to the hands of strangers.

“Come along Potter,” Bode said placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. Using his grip he propelled her forward. With their pace set far quicker than it had been with Umbridge and her short legs in their party they traveled along a convoluted path before arriving at the elevators.

Harriet despised Bole touching her. There was a deep seated disgust burning out from her gut making her want to throw him off and send a hex his way for daring to place a hand on her. It wasn’t just him though. The longer she was with this group the more distinct the feeling became that she was unsafe in her current company. That they all had their wands drawn did not help her unease. Harriet’s own hand itched to get her ow wand out. She wanted to be ready for whatever came her way but she was certain any twitch in the direction of where it was holstered would land her in immediate trouble. Harriet would not give Umbridge or her precious Minister the satisfaction of making things easy on them. So she let herself continue to scratch and if her itching happened to leave her hand in a good position to draw her wand? Well, that was one hundred percent intentional but not something anyone could get her in trouble for. After all, there were no laws against scratching.

When the elevator arrived Bole held her back to allow the three who had been waiting in the corridor for them to first file in along the back. Once they were in place he gave her a shove as his less than polite way of informing her she could now enter. Doing as she was ‘told’ Harriet made her way forward while imagining all the many hexes and curses she knew and could have used against him.

Wanting to keep her distance from her escort Harriet situated herself along the side of the elevator wall halfway from the front and halfway from the back. Not that it made much of a difference. In the tight space everyone was practically in arms’ reach of each other. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for Harriet in the past. Growing up sleeping and serving lengthy time outs in a cupboard got her use to small spaces, but being crammed in an elevator with five people her instincts screamed were a threat made the space feel confining and oppressive, testing Harriet’s comfort in a way it had never been tested before. It didn’t help that all eyes were on her. Well, all eyes but Croaker’s who had half an eye on operating the elevator.

Leaning her head back against the wall Harriet closed her eyes hoping they would read into the move and draw the wrong conclusion. Let them think she was unbothered. Let them think she was naive and trusting. Harriet was happy to be underestimated but more than that she wanted them to think they weren’t being watched. She wanted them to drop their guard, hoping it would cause them to reveal something important, for while she was physically blind her inner eye was opening to take them all in.

What she saw made her breath caught in her chest as her heart rate went wild.

The five figures sharing the elevator with her were saturated, every cell colored by transfigurative magic which was keeping them as something they would not naturally be. Harriet had never seen anything like it but she was willing to take a guess, and that guess was polyjuice potion. Though that wasn’t what had Harriet most concerned. No, what she found most concerning was a different kind of magic all together. Magic hidden from sight but still there under the surface of the skin on each of their right forearms. All five bore the Dark Mark and from the look of it had done so for many years.

If it had not been for her months of training Harriet likely would have done something to alert them of her panic, but she did have that training. Exercising the control she learned under Snape Harriet focused on her breathing and the facts rather than her emotions and impulses.

Somehow Death Eaters had managed to replace at least five Ministry workers in order to infiltrate the building seemingly in preparation for her coming to retrieve the prophecy. The Death Eaters could have anywhere from only a few minutes to almost a full hour before their disguises would wear off if they were even using Polyjuice. Harriet couldn’t discount the possibility that maybe the magic she was seeing was of a different sort. And as terrifying of a thought as it was Voldemort could have recruited five actual Unspeakables. He had recruited from the department before.

Whatever the case Harriet was trapped in an elevator with five Death Eaters and no back up on the way, headed down to the Hall of Prophecies to retrieve a prophecy which was likely the one the Order so desperately did not want getting into the hands of these people. The majority of the Ministry were against her and unlikely to prove allies. Likely the Order wouldn’t know she was there until her friends told them and her friends probably wouldn’t be worried enough about her to contact them for some time. Until then Harriet was on her own with only had her wits and her wand to help her, but she couldn’t draw her wand as it would only escalate matters and her wits were proving entirely unhelpful as she had no idea what she should do!

In answer to her uncertainty her instincts whispered to her, ‘Keep calm. Bide your time.’ With the elevator having come to a stop and no better ideas Harriet decided to go with that plan.

***

Percy could not recall ever being so calm and happy. It was blissful to be relieved of his burdens. He’d panicked when the Minister raised his wand against him sending an “Imperio” his way, but quickly that panic and all Percy’s other troublesome emotions faded away. After that his only concern was following orders. His orders for the moment were to find Madam Umbridge, relay to her the story he had been told, and lead her back to the Minister’s office.

When Percy saw Harriet there in the Ministry’s halls he felt a twinge of worry for her. After all she had been one of his charges as a Perfect and years of taking responsibility for a person left an impression. Harriet had mostly been a good student and a good friend to Ron and the rest of their family. Percy was sad to see her being manipulated by Dumbledore for his power plays. He supposed the worse part was the large share of blame his family carried in these circumstances. They and even Percy himself had always been stringent supporters of the once Headmaster. When an impressionable Harriet came into the wizarding world they had passed their faith on to her and now she was standing on the wrong side of this attempted coo.

Seeing Harriet standing with five sour faced Unspeakables made Percy worry for her but the voice in his head quickly snuffed out those unpleasant feelings helping to keep Percy on task. Things were much easier without emotions getting in the way weren’t they? And life infinitely more pleasant when one could ignore all the upsetting or unwanted feelings.

Floating with contentment Percy lead Umbridge to the Minister’s office where he held the door for her to proceed him inside.

“Cornelius,” the Undersecretary shouted in concern at the scene they walked in on.

As per usual the Minister was seated at his desk but the rest of the office was far from its normal standard of pristine order with clear signs of recent violence to the decor. To go along with this the perimeter was lined with various Ministry employees and in the center, bleeding from a head wound onto an antique rug lay a stunned Madam Bones, disarmed and bound.

“Ah, Delores,” Minister Fudge said smiling serenely, completely unaffected by the situation or Umbridge’s distress. Hidden by his desk, unseen by the rest of the room, the arms of his chair began to frost over. “So glad you could join us.”

“What has happened,” Umbridge asked. Having taken her cue some of the others present she leveled her wand at Madam Bones. Her voice took on a level of outrage as she looked down at her target with suspicion. “Has Bone’s finally betrayed us? Is she with Dumbledore?”

‘Take her.’ The command whispered through Percy’s mind and he obeyed.

Without hesitation he sent a disarming hex at the Undersecretary’s back.

As her wand ripped out of her hand Umbridge turned to see who had attacked her.

“You dare,” she seethed with her eyes bugging out at him.

Before she could say anything more another in the room sent a hex her way. As she cried and stumbled in pain another hex was sent from the opposite direction sending Umbridge stumbling to her knees. Before she could regain her equilibrium the Minister raised his wand and silently conjured ropes to bind her in place.

Looking heartbroken Umbridge implored, “Cornelius?”

The Minister gave no response as he rose to round his desk.

Swallowing Umbridge took on a more professional and reserved countenance. “Minister. I have always been enthusiastically loyal to yourself and the Ministry. No matter what lies you may have been told you surely cannot believe I would stand against you?”

As he proceeded to walk towards her the Minister looked at Umbridge with a relaxed smile. Shaking his head he reached down to stroke a thumb down her cheek.

Blushing the Undersecretary’s eyes fluttered at the touch.

“Dolores,” the Minister said gently.

Umbridge looked up at him with trusting confusion. “Minister?”

She was so focused on his face, she didn’t notice his wand coming to rest under her chin.

The face of calm, Minister Fudge imparted, “Crucio.”

The curse connected almost instantaneously, filling the room with Umbridge’s screams of agony.

Looking at the Minister Percy watched a vicious smile curve his lips as red consumed his eyes.

Chapter Text

In his lifetime Voldemort had experienced many a great pleasure from the tormenting of others. From bullies and enemies to his own people when they failed him, he’d reveled in the power of being the one to make them suffer. Enjoyable though those experiences had been, none compared to holding Umbridge under a Cruciatus. Little else had ever been so thoroughly gratifying as punishing this toad of a woman for her crimes against Harriet.

Still, he so wished he could make it more personal. The experience could have made even sweeter if her pain was coming directly from his touch alone. He could imagine his hands gripping onto her face, radiating the cold Harriet had blessed him with. The damage that would do… Had pain been all Voldemort was aiming for he would have indulged himself, but this wasn’t about pain, delicious though it was. This was about justice. Had he been torturing Umbridge for his own satisfaction Voldemort would have subjected her to more than her mind could bare until she snapped, never to recover again. But this wasn’t about him. This was about Harriet and all Umbridge had put her through.

Harriet needed justice. After months of feeling impudent as her friends and other innocents suffered under Umbridge’s crusade Harriet needed The Toad to answer for her crimes more than she needed the pathetic witch’s pain. Umbridge had subjected her victims to physical mutilation, and Voldemort would be seeking compensation for those wounds, but a pound of flesh was an easy thing to take. Paying her back for the psychological toll was a more complicated trauma to exact, but he would collect.

And so, after only a handful of seconds, with great personal sacrifice Voldemort cut off the Cruciatus.

He stood waiting patiently as the Toad recovered. Eventually, she found it in herself to look up to look up at him through bleary eyes with great big tears rolling down her cheeks. Voldemort couldn’t help but to imagine freezing those tears into place turning them into ice that would feel like acid for how cold it burned. Instead he merely sneered as he looked down on her with all the disgust she deserved. Of course she didn’t perceive it as Lord Voldemort showing her such contempt. No, to Umbridge it was her beloved Cornelius, the person she was most devoted to in the world, staring down on her like vermin to be crushed.

Dismissively he turned his back on The Toad, returning to the Minister’s desk.

“Bind her,” he ordered, “and see to Madam Bone’s as well.”

In a room full of Death Eaters it was only to be expected that his orders would be carried out.

By the time he sat himself back in the Minister’s chair Umbridge was laid contorted on the floor, trussed up like a pig. Those responsible had taken the initiative to match her bindings to the pink of her chosen ascetic. They had also thought to add a large bow to where her hands were tied to her ankles. In contrast Bone’s had been bound in a more dignified but no less secure fashion.

Amused Voldemort smiled at the sight. None of his followers had been upset to discover Umbridge did not hold their Lord’s favor. While she had been useful in supporting their agendas she had few friends among the Death Eaters. Her personality and ways made her unpleasant to work with and had brought scorn over the years even as they helped her along to the position of Undersecretary. In another life, Voldemort would have been happy to promote her through his ranks just for the upset it would inflict on the pompous fools who groveled at his feet while sneering down on all others. But, this was not that life.

“Get her up Mister Weasley,” he ordered. He used the connection provided by the Imperius curse to be more specific in his instruction without having to say the words aloud.

Sheathing his wand the boy came forward to manhandle Umbridge up onto her knees. The way she was bound made kneeling not only painful but impossible to maintain on her own. The only thing keeping her from falling right down on her face was the support that came from the Percy holding her in place by the neck of her cardigan. Without him balancing on her kneecaps would have been beyond The Toad.

Kneeling as she was Umbridge was too short to see over the Minister’s desk. A large monstrosity of a thing undoubtedly chosen to compensate for the impression and intimidation Fudge himself was lacking.

Sighing in apparent irritation Voldemort instructed, “Levitate her up, and add a gag.”

Umbridge’s eyes bulged at his words. She opened her mouth to protest but a simple cloth gag was conjured into her mouth before she could speak. While the gag worked to stop her words it didn’t hold back the squeal of alarm she let loose as Umbridge was floated off the ground to be suspended helplessly for display. It was hard work on Voldemort’s part not to break from his performance and smile at the display she made.

How many times had Umbridge stood proudly at this desk across from her beloved Fudge feeling as though she was standing at the height of power? After this night she would be unable to look back on any memory of this office or Fudge without the emotions of this experience leaking in to taint and ruin those fond recollections. Voldemort would make certain of it.

With disgust still projected through Fudge’s face he leaned forward to consider The Toad. She stared back at him pleadingly which turned to despair as time passed with no sign that her precious Fudge was affected by her plight.

Breaking the silence Voldemort asked, “How long has it been that you have been working for me Dolores? How long has it been that I trusted you while you were lying to me?”

Tears pored anew down Umbridge’s cheeks as she shook her head in denial.

Voldemort sneered. Holding out his hand to Percy he requested, “Her wand.”

Keeping her levitated Percy moved around The Toad to place her wand onto the desktop. Voldemort knew from the research he had done into Umbridge that it was eight inches of birch containing a dragon heartstring core. Picking it up he examined the piece with an appreciative eye. It was extremely ornate for an Englishman’s wand. A unique find among Olivander’s body of work as he rarely so heavily decorated his wands from handle to tip.

“Such exceptional craftsmanship,” Voldemort said conversationally. “An Ollivanders’ wand speaks to the superiority of British skill. In other parts of the world they lack our high standards. They lack tradition. Their wand makers experiment with different materials rather than focusing on what works best. Some don’t even use wood, making wands of rock or metal or… glass of all things! You can’t trust it. You won’t find quality there. But the Ollivanders have never held with such rubbish. You’ll only find good reliable woods there and once Garrick found which cores produced the finest wands the family stuck with them all these years, providing British witches and wizards with the best.”

Voldemort didn’t support a word he was saying but many did believe this drivel, including Fudge and Umbridge. They spent their lives believing their homeland was superior and never traveled or researched so they might learn better. They all may have been happy in their ignorance but Voldemort had never been one to be so. He sought out knowledge. He traveled once he graduated from Hogwarts and in his travels looked for every advantage he could find. While Ollivander and his forefathers did make fine wands whose quality could be relied upon, they didn’t make excellence. None of the most powerful wands known to wizarding kind had come from that family. No, the most powerful foci came from abroad, born of innovation, experimentation, and daring which was not what Ollivanders was known for.

If approached with such truths, Umbridge, being a proud British witch would not only have dismissed them but marked the one to say this as target. She could never believe that a foreign wand might be of superior make to that which she had used all her life, that which any upstanding British witch or wizard would use. This stalwart belief of her’s would make what he was about to do all the more devastating.

Leveling a hate filled look on The Toad Voldemort proclaimed, “It’s a shame this wand mistakenly gave its loyalty to a someone so undeserving of it. The daughter of a muggle mother and a wizard who never accomplished more than to be a janitor.”

Umbridge's eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she realized just what lie she had been caught out on. For years she had worked very hard to keep this information a secret. Since her first days at Hogwarts Umbridge had been insisting she was a pureblood. In a house like Slytherin it was the sensible thing to do if one wanted to avoid trouble, but the Toad hadn’t done it for self-preservation. She denied her muggle heritage due to deep seeded prejudice. Unlike Voldemort she truly believed pureblood’s were superior despite her own skill as a half-blood.

In the visage of the man she most respected Voldemort gave voice to Umbridge’s deepest fear. “You could never be worthy of this wand.”

With a decisive snap he broke her wand in two.

The sound of it echoed around the room as Umbridge stared in horror at the pieces in his hands. But Voldemort wasn’t done yet. Layering the two over each other he broke them in half again, and then again before carelessly dropping the pieces to scatter over the surface of the Minister’s desk.

Quivering with distress Umbridge looked up from the remains of her wand to meet Fudge’s eye.

With conviction he named her, “Filthy lying mud-blood.”

Emitting a squeaking wheeze Umbridge’s eyes rolled back into her head as she fainted.

“Pathetic,” Voldemort declared.

With The Toad’s punishment put on pause Voldemort took the opportunity presented to see to other matters.

“Two more,” he commanded of Avery who disguised as Rufus Scrimgeour was standing closest to the fireplace. A fireplace which boasted the only unrestricted floo in the Ministry, beyond those in the atrium. From this office they could allow people through from any floo in Great Britain.

With a bow Avery moved to obey.

Gathering floo powder he called for Malfoy Manor and when the connection was made stuck his head through. A few moments later he pulled back while leaving a hand in place to keep the connection open. Stepping to the side he made room for others to come through. From the flames emerged the Carrows. With a swipe of their wands they banished the ash from their persons before bowing lowly to their Lord.

Getting straight to business Voldemort declared. “Alecto take Bones. Amycus, Umbridge. No one will question their being in this wing. Patrol the halls. Should more guests arrive play your parts and escort them here. You do not attack unless they act against you. Do not forget, stun and subdue only. No death. No maiming. No torture. Such privileges are mine and mine alone this night.”

“Of course my Lord,” Alecto agreed, bowing again for extra measure.

Amycus did much the same only a moment behind his sister.

From their pockets they each retrieved a flask of Polyjuice potion. At Christmas Voldemort had instructed Severus to begin brewing a stock pile of it but only allowed the spy to recently reveal this to Dumbledore and his Order. The news had stirred them up, putting them even more on edge than usual, but Voldemort knew not one had imaged he and his would use it as they were this night.

With their polyjuice at the ready the two Carrows parted ways to approach their respectively assigned witch. With little care they plucked hair from each to add to their flasks before stirring. They both wrinkled their nose at the taste of the potion but dutifully drank it down. As their transformations were taking place Umbridge began to stir, but uninterested in dealing with her just yet Voldemort sent a stunning spell her way to keep her out until he was ready for her to wake.

By the time he was finished with her there were seemingly two of Bones and two of Umbridge standing in the room. Quickly the Carrows set to work transfiguring their attire to match that of those they were impersonating. From their Alecto spelled the hair atop her head into Bones’ style before moving to do the same for her brother. Using Fudge’s wand Voldemort unceremoniously summoned Umbridge’s black velvet bow off of her head. In the process violently tearing out some of the hair it had been holding in place. With a flicking movement he sent the bow over to Alecto who collected it from the air, a smile on her face from witnessing the rough treatment. The Carrows always did have a particular appetite for pain much like Bellatrix and himself.

After banishing the strands Alecto placed the bow in her brother’s borrowed head of hair matching the placement what was signature to Umbridge before looking to her Lord for approval which he gave with a nod.

Leaning back in his chair Voldemort turned his gaze to the real Umbridge and Bones as the Carrows left to see to their duties. Pulling out a watch from his pocket he flipped to the secret wellness face before looking to see what it had to say. There was only one person Voldemort cared enough about to track. As such both hands were linked to her with the seconds hand pointing towards Harriet’s state of being and the hour hand pointed to her location. Unsurprisingly the watch declared Harriet to be at the Ministry while the seconds hand spun between two points, one for her physical state and the other for her emotional state. At that time the two points it rested on indicated her to be physically well but panicking. Voldemort hated to know Harriet was distressed but his duty was to see to what was best for her, and what was best was not always pleasant. While this night would undoubtedly be strenuous he was certain the future rewards would make it worth it.

***

A change for the better? What a lark. Harriet felt things would have to turn around fast or Hermione would rightly have earned herself a mountain of ‘I told you so’s. For years her friend had been lecturing that they shouldn’t put so much trust in divination. Given her current situation Harriet would admit she should have heeded those warnings.

She should have told the others to raise the alarm and contact the Order. Why hadn’t she? Because of a bizarre reading where everyone’s cups had spoken of good fortune. At most a half an hour later and Harriet was kicking herself for that. All year her dreams had been wonky. Why hadn’t she considered that her tea leaf readings might have gone astray as well? Even if the readings did bare true, there was story after story filled with cautionary tales of people who misinterpreted divined truths. The change of fortune could be days away. Sure, usually tea reading provided Harriet with a glimpse at the future of the day but that wasn’t guaranteed.

Over confidence, that’s what it was. She had too much faith in her ability and because of it she’d walked right into a snare. Now tangled up in the trap she had no idea how to get out of it, but panicking and berating herself weren’t going to help. She needed to focus on other things. She could leave it to Hermione to yell at her later if she made it out of her current situation.

As they walked towards the Department of Mysteries Harriet half hoped and half dreaded there being an Order member standing guard. They would have been outnumbered but at least then she wouldn’t have been alone. However the corridor was entirely empty. With no one to stop them and whatever measures the Ministry had in place to keep trespassers from entering where they should not tread doing nothing to slow them down the Death Eaters walked her right on through the black door at the end of the hall.

Bode, or rather the person that likely was pretending to be Bode had returned to Harriet’s side once they departed the elevator. They walked only slightly behind her as they proceeded ahead. Small favors, he was keeping his hands to himself. At least, Harriet was almost certain it was a he as she had made an educated guess as to who he truly was. Despite his gloves, her inner eye was able to see that The-Person-Who-Would-Be-Bode had scarring on his hands. If he was indeed using Polyjuice Potion it wasn’t able to transform the damage completely. The transfiguration magic which coursed through his body was fighting against the magical residue in the scar tissue and failing to make an impact.

Many things could cause magical scar tissue. Alastor Moody was practically a walking exhibit of examples. The interesting thing about this particular scar tissue was that Harriet recognized the feel of the magic that had caused the damage. It was an exact match to the small circular scars Snape had received from the Dark Lord’s finger tips shortly after his return. There was only one man Harriet knew of who bore not only a Dark Mark but also injured hands given to him by Voldemort; one Lucius Malfoy.

There was always a chance it was someone else baring a Dark Mark and freezing curse scarred hands, but the odds seemed in favor of Very-Much-Unlikely-To-Be-Bode being Lucius Malfoy. Not that having a suspicion as to who she was dealing with helped Harriet much, especially as he was only one of five threats she was facing. It was surprising though that he would be sent. Given how Malfoy had the Minister’s ear Harriet wouldn’t have thought Lucius was a pawn worth risking on a retrieval mission.

Unfortunately the night was proving to be full of the unexpected.

In all the time that Harriet had been practicing with her inner eye she had never come across something she couldn’t see through, and yet the walls to the Department of Mysteries were just that. They were solid, impenetrable, just as opaque to her inner eye as they were to her physical gaze. It wasn’t only the outer walls. When they went through that first black door and found themselves in a circular room of doors it was just the same. The walls and doors were solid. Within the space Harriet could see a few bits of magic and a couple creatures floating about but it was nothing more than she came across at Hogwarts. Even the magic which spun the room once the door was closed behind them was unimpressive. Harriet was honestly disappointed given this was meant to be the mysterious Department of Mysteries. She didn’t know what she had been expecting beyond something more.

She should have known better. You don’t judge a book by its cover and you don’t rely on first impressions.

Harriet’s legs nearly gave out as Croaker opened a new door to lead them through. What her inner eye could see of the room beyond was overwhelming and they hadn’t even entered yet. There was too much to see and too much Harriet’s mind didn’t know how to process even with the wall still blocking out a good bit of her view. She was half blind and already she was drowning.

Harriet was so discombobulated she couldn’t reason out that all she had to do was close her inner eye and it would all go away. Instead she kept it open as Probably-Lucius-Malfoy forced her forward. Once inside everything became much worse. Her body grew faint from the over stimulation, her head swam, and her feet involuntarily steered her to the left as she lilted towards the ground. She might have fallen had it not been for Very-Probably-Lucius reaching out an arm to loop around her. Despite how much his touch had bothered her previously Harriet couldn’t find it in her to mind as he pulled her in close. Quite the opposite. Looking for something that would help but too out of it to think things through she reflexively buried her face in his shoulder thinking it would help block things out, but it didn’t.

Unperturbed by her condition her escort marched on with Lucius dragging her along.

Still taking everything in, Harriet asked dumbly, “Are those clocks?”

No one bothered to answer her which she found to be rather rude.

Forcing her head up Harriet made herself focus on what she was seeing with her physical sight. Putting a hand up in front of her face, she found looking out through the spaces between her fingers helped her to sort out what was physically present. There were indeed clocks. Many, many clocks.

“Well done Harriet,” she congratulated herself.

Closing her eyes to cut down on the input her brain had to deal with, she rest her head back on Lucius’ shoulder. With her head there she suddenly realized that she was taller than him and felt a jolt of satisfaction over that. But then she remembered he was in disguise. She wondered if she would still be taller than him without it. When she was younger he had seemed quite the intimidating figure looming over her. She rather liked the idea of towering over him as payback.

In a room full of clocks Harriet would have expected to hear lots of ticking. She wasn’t hearing ticking though. No, the room was full of whispers. The further ahead they went the louder the sound became. There were so many voices speaking over each other that they all blended into something like the ocean from a distance, or rather, what Harriet thought the ocean sounded like from recordings and movies she’d seen. She’d never actually been to see it for herself.

Wasn’t that a sad thing? She would have liked to see the ocean and to see all the other sights for herself. John had traveled. He promised that if it was what she wanted he would take her with him and they would travel the world. He had offered to take her from everything. Running away was a daydream she contemplated often but she still had said no. She was having a hard time remembering why at the moment. Running off to see all the things she hadn’t before sounded wondrous, just so long as it got her away from the things in this room of clocks which didn’t tick and whispers that seemed to be speaking not to her ears but to the core of her being.

Harriet never tried drugs before but she thought with how she was feeling she might know what it was like to be high. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Her sense of everything was disjointed but that was only the start of it. She imagined if someone replaced half her blood supply with helium it might feel comparable to what she was experiencing. Then there was the weakness in her body. Harriet was as weak and clumsy as a still blind to the world kitten which was ironic given that her problem was caused by Seeing too much.

Well, not ‘seeing.’ That was a bit of a misnomer. It gave people the wrong impression. Seeing and seeing were different things. Seeing when capitalized spoke to a Seer’s ability but much of what they “Saw” wasn’t comparable to physical sight. Really whomever had thought to name such things had been doing all future Seers a disservice. Harriet wished not for the first time that they had done a better job of it and made things clearer. Perceived might be a better word, but Harriet didn’t reckon she would be able to get everyone to switch.

Moaning she pushed harder into Lucius’ shoulder. Her head had started hurting very badly. She didn’t like feeling this way. Something wasn’t right. Something was very much not right and Harriet didn’t like it.

Having finally made it through the room to the door which would lead to the next leg of their journey they came to a stop while Supposedly-Croaker got the door. Harriet tried to lay down for a rest on the floor but Mister Malfoy being his usual unpleasant self wouldn’t let her. He was a pain just like his son, and she told him so. Or, she tried to. She thought she had but maybe she just thought it? She didn’t know for certain.

“Oh,” Harriet whispered in shock as the door ahead swung wide, unmuffling the whispers, allowing them to flood through at full volume. She could suddenly recognize them for what they were. These were prophecies. Thousands on thousands of prophecies whispered out in the ‘voice of Fate’ as her divination textbook described it. Thousands on thousands of prophecies whose words and meaning were suddenly crystal clear to her, and far too much. The pain in her head from processing everything spread through her body as it amplified getting worse and worse. It was too much. Too much funneling through her mind at once. Too much to take. Too much to give.

Harriet could feel her magic rising to meet the words, rising to answer them in the same way it did when she incanted a spell and it was too much. This was thousands of spells pulling from her reserves at once. It felt like her magic might be stripped from her all together. Her magic was like candy floss, light and floaty, a delicate wonderful thing that wrapped around her soul protecting it but the whispering voices were pulling it apart, each claiming a strand to gobble down, leaving only a sticky residue behind on the stick for Harriet. They were stripping her bare.

Harriet whined in distress. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be pulled apart. She couldn’t help but to think of all the things she’d seen pulled apart in her life and then imagined herself in their place. No, she didn’t like it at all and she wouldn’t let it happen. Not to her. She was a survivor and she would fight.

Struggling usefulness Harriet tried to start the fight by escaping the arms that were holding her.

“Stop that,” a voice demanded harshly near her ear.

“No shenanigans Potter,” another hissed from near by.

“Don’t want to,” Harriet tried to explain. Unable to think of a way of describing what she was feeling she settled for, “Hurts,” because it was short and simple and people could usually sympathize with that. Adults usually didn’t force children to do things that hurt. Unless they were Umbridge. Umbridge liked to see children hurt. Even when she was one The Toad had never liked children but then Umbridge had never learned to like herself. Not really. There was the idea of a person she placed on a pedestal and that was who she wanted to be, but she could never be that person and so Umbridge could never love herself. She would always be a half-blood born from a muggle mother and Umbridge could never forgive herself for that.

Feeling very confused Harriet tried to remember how she knew that. She didn’t think that was something she was meant to know yet, but it was time. Wasn’t it time to know?

‘Not yet,’ the words hiss reassuringly through her mind and Harriet accepted them as truth. If it wasn’t time yet than it wasn’t time yet. She would remember when it was time. No use forcing something to come about when it would come on its own in time.

As the pain in Harriet’s body intensified other things began to happen. It still felt like there was helium in her veins but it seemed the blood in Harriet’s limbs had turned to liquid lead in an attempt to counter that. They felt unreasonably heavy even though the floaty feeling was very much still there gathering mostly in her shoulders and knees and the top of her head.

Unable to support herself Harriet became much dead weight. At just over six foot two she was a bit too much for Lucius to manage and she was lowered to the floor. The lights from the globes which filled the shelves shined down on them but finding it to not be enough Lucius used a lumos to lit his wand and check Harriet over. She was flushed a dark red and when he peeled her eyelids back he found her pupils fully dilated.

“Conjure a stretcher,” he ordered.

Promptly Rookwood took care of the stretcher while Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rodolphus kept watch.

Their Lord had told them that the Potter brat would be affected by the magic in the Department of Mysteries. As such their task was to take her in to retrieve the Prophecy and then get her out as expediently as possible. Their Lord had warned that the longer they took worse the girl’s condition might get but they had not expected her to react so severely as quickly as she had. Knowing that the more she suffered, the more they would suffer in punishment at their Lord’s hand, they were all five eager to see their task completed. Thinking of the punishment that might likely still come their way Lucius shivered causing his hands to cramp painfully.

The Dark Lord had been very clear since his return that no harm was to come to the Potter brat if not wrought by his hand. He would not have anyone disparaging his ability by claiming he fought the girl at less then her best. Their enemies would know Lord Voldemort faced the Light’s champion in her prime and still stood the victor. Any interference done by another, so much as a bruise, and they would be made to suffer.

Umbridge would soon discover this herself. When their Lord learned some months ago that she had been responsible for sending the Dementors after Potter he had sworn retribution for nearly robbing him of his opportunity. Lucius would never forget the horror of Lord Voldemort that summer when he decimated the werewolves to quell his fury over this interference.

During the planning of this night their Lord had spoken at length about what Umbridge would suffer and why. Lucius had no interest in bringing a similar fate down on himself by dallying in his mission. Hope that his family would ever regain the Dark Lord’s favor had been a dying thing for Lucius. He saw this night as a much needed opportunity to ease some of their Lord’s displeasure before Draco returned home to take the Dark Mark at the end of the school year.

With the girl carried on the stretcher they ran through the aisles of the Hall of Prophecy in search of their prize. She mumbled and spoke gibberish as they went but none present paid her words mind. Harriet was no longer aware of them to care if they were paying attention to her or not. The prophecies were still pulling at her magic, she was in pain, she couldn’t think, and she just wanted it all to stop.

“It will stop if you do what you are told,” a voice barked at her but to Harriet it meant little, lost among all the other words filling her head that only she could hear.

Unwilling to wait and unable to force her compliance the Death Eaters took matters into their own hands. Magic could not be used to force the collection of a prophecy but brute force could. Taking Harriet’s hand in her own Bellatrix reached out and being careful not to touch the orb herself made Harriet grab the prophecy. Once Harriet had a grip on it they only needed her to lift it off the shelf before releasing it into a waiting bag they help open underneath.

With their prize and prisoner in hand they took their cargo and made a run for the exit.

***

Harriet felt like she was waking up from a bad dream, though it had been some time since her dreams came with a splitting headache and longer still since she’d woken up somewhere so hard yet warm. She couldn’t remember why that might be until she took in the five people around her baring the Dark Mark.

Things started coming back to her readily from there though some of the most recent events were fuzzy. She couldn’t piece together exactly what had happened in the Department of Mysteries or when she had fallen unconscious but she got the gist. The reason for her headache became clear to her as well. She’d strained herself keeping her inner eye open for all it had seen and she was paying for the toll she’d put her mind through. Once she closed her inner eye and gave herself time to process the pain would subside, but of course in her current predicament that wasn’t an option.

At that moment Harriet couldn’t afford to close her inner eye. It was one of the few advantages she had going for her. It was only thanks to it that she knew the prophecy was at her side. She could see it through the bag it had been put in and hear the words whispering out at her from within. She could also see all the Death Eaters while still giving the appearance of being asleep thanks to her inner eye. Three stood waiting for the elevator which was on its way down. The other two -one of which was Likely-Lucius- stood besides her but rather than watching her, they were watching for signs of trouble from beyond.

A feeling of nervous anticipation welled up inside her as Harriet realized this was her chance. The certainty that this was the time to act filled her, flooding her system with adrenaline and confidence. It was time to put all those months of preparation and training to the test.

Taking deep breaths Harriet pictured what she would do in her mind as she waited for the opportune moment. She tracked the elevator in its journey but most of all she listened. As it came closer the loud mechanisms that gave the machine life provided the cover Harriet was waiting for. Without fear of being heard she moved her hand to where her wand was holstered while keeping watch to see that no one noticed. Once her hand was around the grip it was only a matter of seconds before the time to strike arrived.

The elevator doors groaned open. The three standing there were focused on checking that no one was inside. With their attention elsewhere, Harriet struck.

Barely having to think about what she was doing she sent a blasting curse at the pair guarding her, sending them careening down the hall towards the Department of Mysteries. By the time they collided with the black door Harriet was already engaging the others.

Not having time to breathe she turned her wand immediately after the blasting hex to fire her next spell down the hall. It was innocuous in appearance, a small snitch sized ball of red light that was easily dodged by the trio at the elevator. They retaliated by sending stunners her way, but rather than trying to get to her feet as they anticipated Harriet grabbed the bag containing the prophecy and rolled to the far wall allowing one of the spells to crash into the spot where she had been and the other two to fly harmlessly past her head. Once she reached the far side Harriet quickly threw up a shield to protect against what was coming next.

During her training and while teaching the D.A. Harriet learned it wasn’t just her that struggled to defend against spells which didn’t follow a linear trajectory. Most wizards and witches weren’t used to dealing with this kind of magic and the Death Eaters facing Harriet certainly weren’t expecting it from her. As such they hadn’t given a thought to her little spell once it was dodged and because of that they failed to notice what happened once it passed them.

The spell traveled to the end of the hall before slowing to a stop. With no where left to go it began to grow and divide, multiplying into dozens of similarly sized balls of magical light. This particular spell had been reverse engineered by Snape off of a charm of the Dark Lord’s creation. He had never used it in public before, choosing to save it for if things ever went terribly wrong, but he had told Harriet she was to use it if she ever had the need. In that corridor, Harriet felt if ever their would be a time, it was then.

The longer the spell was allowed to go on the more it would have continued to grow and divide, but Harriet didn’t have the time to wait. Having to settle for what had formed during her travels from one side of the hall to the other, Harriet preformed the spell that would send the balls of magic coming back they way they’d come. Like a bullet from a gun they were off, speeding down the corridor, most right into the backs of the three Death Eaters who were preparing to lodge another volley of stunners her way. With no time to realize what was happening the Death Eaters went down as with a whizz the remaining projectiles continued forward, gaining speed. Laying on her back Harriet turned her head and exhaled, making herself as small as possible so they could pass over without hitting her shield and continue on undisturbed to the remaining pair of Death Eaters.

Croaker, or whoever he was really was, got caught in their path and went down like the others but Lucius was cunning enough to drop to the ground, dodging what came his way before they dissipated against the wall behind him. Unfortunately for him with the air over her head clear Harriet had already gotten herself into a seated position. Malfoy was in her sights before he had any chance to recover. With a thought she sent a stunner out of her wand which he was only just able to block. With Lucius on the defensive Harriet had the upper hand.

Raining down spells on him she grabbed the bag containing the prophecy and sprinted for the elevator. Long legs and months of consistent swimming and training allowed Harriet to clear the hall in record time while keeping up her barrage on the last standing Death Eater. Jumping over the unconscious bodies of the three outside the elevator she was only just able to slip through the doors as they began to automatically close. Once inside she blinded pressed a button, anxious to be going before Lucius could call the elevator back.

Jerking to a start the elevator began moving upwards. With a shaky breath Harriet fell back against the wall besides the control panel.

She’d done it! She’d actually done it.

Allowing herself a small moment to catch her breath she checked to see where exactly she was heading. Despite the rush she had managed to select level one. That was good as it gave her the longest journey before Lucius could summon the elevator back down. The problem was, it also gave him time to revive the others she’d knocked out. There was also the issue of Harriet not being sure if that was where she wanted to go.

She could get back to Hogwarts through Umbridge’s office and maybe pass less eyes doing it, but the way was confusing and she couldn’t remember if Umbridge had locked her office or not. The Atrium on the other hand had lots of floos she could escape from and an exit onto the muggle streets of London. The floos may not be able to take her to Hogwarts but they could get her to Grimmauld place or the Burrow or the Leaky Cauldron or any other number of places.

If she didn’t take the floos then it would be easy enough to disappear in London as she knew muggle spaces while the Death Eaters did not. She could take muggle transport or if their was a chance for it she might summon the Knight Bus. The year before when she’d been on the run from Voldemort it had been the Knight Bus that delivered her from Little Hangleton to safety. Maybe on the run from Death Eaters and Ministry Officials it could do it again.

Harriet set herself on the idea of the Atrium. It felt like the better path to take. She only wished she had a way of sabotaging the elevator once she got off. It could buy her time if the Death Eaters were forced to take the stairs. Unfortunately she didn’t know how to go about it and she had none of Fred and George’s inventions to help her along as they like her invisibility cloak were all back at Hogwarts in her wolly bag.

Realizing she was wasting what little time she had to do so, Harriet quickly forced shut her inner eye. She would only have the remainder of the elevator ride but at least it was some seconds for her to rest. While she was at it Harriet took this precious window of time to ground herself, to block out all extraneous thoughts and emotions to focus on her convictions as Snape had taught her.

When the elevator slowed on approaching its destination Harriet took a last deep breath and, despite her throbbing head forced her inner eye open.

With the doors to the elevator beginning to part Harriet did the only thing she could think of to slow it on its journey back to level nine. As she’d seen Dudley do once when they were young she ran her hand down the control panel selecting every floor as a destination before slipping out onto level one.

With her wand in one hand and the prophecy in the other Harriet wasted no time in heading for the atrium. As much as she wanted to run for salvation she didn’t let herself. Knowing it could attract attention she didn’t want Harriet kept herself at a brisk steps with her head held high and aimed straight ahead like nothing was wrong while her inner eye kept a watch on her back and all other sides of her as well.

Heart thumping in her chest Harriet slowed as she approached the atrium. With her inner eye she could See what lay ahead for her and it wasn’t good news. There were roughly ten people between her and escape, all of whom bore the Dark Mark.

Realizing that this was all part of a plan much bigger than retrieving a prophecy Harriet became more determined too push on ahead. She knew with utter certainty that forward was the only way to go. Still, it wouldn’t be easy. Wishing she had a portable swamp she could throw at the path behind her and some instant darkness powder to send on the way ahead, Harriet made a promise to herself that if she got out of this, the next time she would. Then, stealing herself in confidence she strode for the archway which led into the atrium proper.

As she entered the heads of all present turned her way. Most looked like normal people, just ministry employees and visitors going about their day, but Harriet’s sight showed her the truth.

Harriet did not pause or hesitate as the first one drew their wand. She would not stand still and let them converge on her. She would do as Snape taught her to do and stay moving. She continued forward, picking up speed, raising her own wand to fire back as a stunner came flying her way.

Chapter Text

Percy took in everything that was happening around him calmly. He watched Madam Umbridge be bound without objection and saw to his own duties as ordered. He was unaffected by the words the Minister said to Umbridge. He felt nothing about the revelations and dirty laundry being aired for all to see. There was not a drop of curiosity as to why Umbridge had lied or sympathy for the destruction of her wand.

Seeing the Carrows come through the floo did nothing more to stir his emotions. Nor did seeing them take on the appearances of Madam Bones and Umbridge. He knew once he would have been concerned about the break in Ministry security but that was the past. He watched them impassively, only making certain they didn’t get in the way of his job which was keeping Umbridge levitated in front of the Minister’s desk. There certainly wasn’t any guilt to be had in following orders. He was doing his part as any good cog should do and as such the only thing in Percy’s heart was contentedness.

As the Minister put away his watch he looked up at the room. Again, his eyes had transformed from brown to red. The first time this happened Percy had been briefly concerned but then that unwelcome emotion quickly fell away as he was ordered to accept it and so he did.

For a moment those red eyes took on an eerie glow before a sweeping wave of pale blue-white light passed over the Minister’s form leaving a monster in his place. Taller than any man Percy had ever known bar Hagrid. Skin an icy blue. The only thing which was the same as before was the eyes. Those red eyes. Percy had never seen the like of it before, but he had heard tell of such a monster. Every detail was as Harriet described. This was the thing she had declared as He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named returned.

The calm Percy had enjoyed was a forgotten thing when faced with the Dark Lord standing before him. Fear and shock quickly flooded it out, sending his heart racing.

“It is fine,” the voice in his head whispered. “He’s the same man whose been guiding you all night and every thing has been fine, and it will remain this way so long as you follow orders. As long as you stay calm… calm… calm.”

With deep slow breathes Percy’s heart rate slowed and the feeling that everything was all right blew all of his negative emotions away.

The blue lips of the Dark Lord pulled back into a satisfied smile revealing slightly pointed inhuman teeth but Percy felt no alarm at the sight of them. Nothing more mattered than the calm he was enjoying and doing as he was told.

Still holding Percy’s gaze the Dark Lord spoke to another. “Avery, fetch Fudge and the rest of our number. With Bone’s having arrived, I do not feel inclined to wait for further guests. Narcissa alone is to remain behind to keep watch.”

Percy was not inclined to bother looking to see who exactly in the room was in fact Avery or how they responded to being ordered. However despite not turning to look he was able to hear the floo activate letting him know that the Dark Lord’s wishes were presumably being fulfilled.

“The rest of you,” the Dark Lord continued as he rose to his feet. “Adjourn to the conference room. See to it that all our guests are awakened. I would not want our captive audience to miss the show. Crab, Goyle, remain behind.”

Percy could hear some leaving as the floo activated again allowing others to come through the flames. Each paid their respects to You-Know-Who on their arrival. “My Lord.” “My Lord.” “My Lord.” But, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named barely looked at them in return until his eyes came to focus on someone.

Buried deep beneath his calm, Percy felt a smell measure of dread sending a shiver running down his spine at the wide smile the Dark Lord gave.

“Ah, Fudge. Our most accommodating of Ministers,” You-Know-Who greeted jovially as he made his way to the man he had only minutes before been impersonating.

Absently Percy noted what the shock and otherness of this monster had distracted him from previously. The man was shirtless, bare, naked from the waist up. As the Dark Lord came around the desk Percy took in the long skirt like garment he wore wrapped around his waist to sit low on his hips, draped to hang straight down to the floor, allowing his bare feet to show only when he took a particularly long stride. The effect made his imposing figure look even more statuesque and lithe with his long arms and musculature put on display for all to see. Dismissing the otherness of his skin in tint and markings, the monster was very human in build.

Even growing up around brothers and dorm mates Percy had not seen many men in any state of undress. He wanted to feel disgust at the sight of the Dark Lord but instead he found even less pleasant emotions rising up. He didn’t want them. He wanted the tranquility that this new sense of purpose brought him, so he let his eyes rest. As the world around him became unfocused Percy let his mind go blank, shielding himself with the feelings of contentedness and peace and the assurance that following orders was all that mattered.

With Percy’s awareness of the room only peripheral the Dark Lord approached Madam Umbridge to adjust her bonds. When he was done they were still the same bright pink adorned with a bow but no longer were her legs and arms bent to meet behind her back. Instead she was arranged in a standing position.

“Crabbe, bring Bones. Goyle, Umbridge. Young Mister Weasley, the doors. Everyone else, you will follow behind. Minister, do lead the way to the Conference Hall,” the Dark Lord ordered.

As the voice in his head which provided him with instruction told him he was to do Percy turned leaving Umbridge to fall to the floor. Proceeding to the doors he held them open for Fudge as the Minister made his way over, his face uncharacteristically blank as he went. Behind him towered the Dark Lord, moving slowly as to not overtake Fudge who could not so easily cover the distance which You-Know-Who’s long legs gave his stride. As Fudge led the way out of the room Mister Crabbe and Mister Goyle came into place behind their Lord levitating Bones and Umbridge besides them. After spelling the doors to stay open Percy ran ahead so he might get to the next set of doors ahead of the party.

The Minster’s Conference Hall was a truly impressive space though it was rarely used. Previously Percy had only seen it history books as the room was mostly used for signing treaties, photoshoots, and to impress foreign dignitaries. The only regular domestic use it saw was when a Minister needed to meet with all Ministry senior staff and Department Heads at once, something which usually only happened at the beginning and towards the end of a Minister’s service. That night the room was being put to a rather different use. For this occasion some of the most powerful and influential figures in the Ministry and beyond it had brought together.

The space was dominated by a long rectangular table. Day to day it sat 42 people but it could be shrunken or enlarged depending on the needs of the meeting. For this night the table had been kept to its standard size with one chair at either end and twenty along either side. Typically the seating was selected for comfort but for its current use the priority was security. All the chairs but those at either end had been replaced with hard stone stools adorned with chains and cuffs to hold those who sat upon them in place while insuring that they could be seen and watched from all sides. All but four of the chairs had been filled while Voldemort’s people were positioned against the walls behind them, standing guard over their guests.

Among the notable figures present there were distinguished members of Wizengamot, the owners and editors of several prominent publications, some of the most influential figures who guided the magical world through their celebrity or connections, and several Department Heads from all over the Ministry representing the Department of International Magical Cooperation to Magical Games and Sports. Per the Dark Lord’s orders all their guests had been made conscious and aware. They displayed a spectrum of reactions to their circumstances but their emotions had no effect on Percy’s calm.

Welcomed in with a gesture from Minister Fudge, the Dark Lord glided on to the far side of the room where a large throne like chair was waiting for him at the head of the table. Once he was seated he looked out at those gathered with cool contemplation.

“Crabbe, place Madam Bones at the head of the table opposite me. Goyle, put Umbridge to my left. Young Mister Wealsey, at my back. Minister, stay where you are. The rest of you. Line the walls. Keep yourselves evenly spaced. Wands at the ready."

Without objection all did as was expected of a them. Looking over the room the Dark Lord eyed the position of every soul critically. For reasons Percy had no desire to consider You-Know-Who began ordering those at the table to be rearranged before turning his attention to his own people around the room to be swapped and moved as well. His instructions were given rapid fire and as some rushed to obey their polyjuice potion began to wear off.

With the room to his liking You-Know-Who drew his wand to transfigure the stool to his right back into a comfortable chair. With that seen to he offered, “Fudge my friend, do come take your place at my side."

With Death Eater wands trained on them most of the occupants around the table watched silently as the Minister walked free and tall but most of all proud to take the seat which had been saved for him. The few that made noise were crying, though they kept it quiet.

“Dolohov," The Dark Lord called pulling the attention of the person who was impersonating Auror John Dawlish. "Do please fetch the press."

Percy watched Dolohov go by a barrage of negative emotions attacking his calm.

He had been too young when his Uncles were killed to have memories them, but he did have many memories of his mother’s mourning them. Molly Weasley rarely talked about her brothers as she found it painful to bring up those who had been lost in the war let alone family lost. It had fallen their father to tell their children about Gibeon and Fabian Prewett, and how they died. Through all of his childhood Percy had assumed his Uncles were aurors as why else would they have been fighting Death Eaters? It was only in the last year after the mass escape that he learned they were in fact vigilantes killed trying to fight Dolohov and some of his fellow Death Eaters instead of running and leaving it to the proper authorities.

The last time Percy had been to the burrow was after learning Dolohov had been one of the Azkaban escapees. He’d arrived to find his mother distracting herself with cooking, her eyes red from earlier crying. Percy had expected the tears. Knowing his mother would worry obsessively about those she didn’t have in her sights he’d come that day so she could have as many of her children close as were available. What he hadn’t expected was to get in a shouting match with his Father over Sirius Black's part in the breakout. Percy had been upset that his family wouldn’t blame the man at fault for his mother’s upset while his Father was vehement that they didn’t know that Black was responsible. Seeing that the argument was further upsetting his mother Percy left the house. He hadn’t been back since

His relationship with his family had already been strained since Harriet’s announcement of the Dark Lord’s return had put her at odds with the Ministry, but that argument tipped things over the edge creating a distance that grew with every passing day.

It seemed only moments after leaving the conference room that Dolohov was returning bringing two more guests in ahead of him. The first was a photographer from the Daily Prophet whom Percy recognized from his involvement in the Triwizard Tournament. The other was harder to place at first given her uncharacteristic appearance. Dressed in a rather revealing nightgown without makeup or her signature glasses was one Miss Rita Skeeter. On the top of her head her short cut hair was divided in a way that did not at all seem purposeful between styled and lank sections. Scattered over her person were markings, some made by dirt and others by injury. The most noticeable were around her wrists. Rings of bruising and abrasions had formed there, Percy presumed by some sort of restraint. Her feet were also in markedly poor condition, covered in dirt which was clear to see as Rita was being forced to do without shoes or even slippers. She had to walk on the cold hard marble tile of the Minister's wing without any barrier.

Dolohov guided her and the photographer further into the room at wand point.

Despite the obvious state of her, Miss Skeeter made an effort to hold herself with poise and dignity, which was more than could be said for her camera man who shuddered and cowered back from the various Death Eaters with a terror which only severed to draw more attention his way. The man unlike Rita was fully dressed and shod but he did sport his own injuries including several scraps and large bruises along with a nose that was bent at an odd angle and a severely split lip.

With the attention of the room on the new arrivals the photographer shakily raised his large camera. With a click followed by a bang as the spot inducing flash went off the moment was immortalized on film.

At Miss Skeeter’s side one of the Death Eaters set up a quill borrowed from the aurors' office, designed to dictate interrogations. Percy knew it would impartially record everything that happened with no detail missed. A small swell of shame pushed up his throat and remained there even as the calm kept Percy from acknowledging that there was anything about his current situation to feel badly about.

Settling back in his throne the Dark Lord reached out drum his long claw like nails on the table top. The noise echoed loudly in the quiet room. Many were unable to look towards the source of it. Some kept their heads resolutely down while others simply closed there eyes. Barnabas Cuffe, Head Editor at the Prophet had closed his eyes as the picture was taken and had not opened them after. Now with every tap he was flinching, curling in on himself further and further. Percy was not upset by the drumming. Indeed he found it soothing. He watched memorized as the Dark Lord managed to land his fingers in the same place each time with the tips of his nails landing in the initial dings he made deepening them into deep gouges in the prized antique. What was particularly fascinating was the frost which creeped out from those spots growing further every time the Dark Lord touched back down on the surface.

It wasn’t only the table freezing. From the Dark Lord a brutal cold was emanating out, rapidly lowering the temperature of the room. As Percy was closest he took the brunt of it. He thought to cast a warming charm on himself but the voice in his head stopped him. ‘Bear it,’ the voice ordered him and so Percy did. He let the cold attack his skin, focusing on the Dark Lord’s rhythmic drumming to block out the pain.

You-Know-Who looked around the table at his guests with a shine in his eyes and a slight curve at the corner of his mouth. Following his gaze Percy's gifted peace was strained as he realized some of those that the table who were looking back at the Dark Lord appeared not scared or defiant but intrigued. A few were looking quietly pleased. Not happy with his peace being challenged Percy tried to reason why others being happy would be upsetting to him, but trying to piece out why he would feel this way meant focusing on the feelings which had been buried beneath the calm. Unease and panic and shame rose up in Percy. His breathing quickened with his heart. The room began to swim. Before the grip of the Imperious curse could be shaken to the point of crumbling the Dark Lord began to speak distracting Percy from what he was feeling as his focus slid from his feelings back to waiting for orders.

"May I say what a pleasure it is to sit before you all tonight… I have been so patient in waiting for this moment, as there were things which were best seen to while the sheep remained ignorant, guided to the wolf by their Shepard," he said giving a pleased bow of this head to the Minister. "But Fudge is not due the credit alone. It is thanks to the actions of many over the years that have brought us to this auspicious moment. After the set back which befell me that Halloween night, there were years in which the advantages which almost won us the war could have been lost. Instead there was a rush for an illusion of security and peace. There was no reform. Investigations were sloppy. Trials were carried out with a focus on theatre rather than justice. But how could we expect any different when the Ministry's interest was in calming the masses and quelling doubt to your ability.”

The Dark Lord brought his hands together, resting his lips against his nails as he allowed his words to soak in.

Meeting Dolohov’s eye from across the room a wordless understanding passed between master and servant.

Dolohov turned to the photographer and whispered in his ear, prompting the man to take another picture of the room. Most had been unprepared and because of this their candid reactions were captured. While they were still recovering Voldemort went on.

"Though some of you did not knowingly support my cause, I thank you for your aid. I thank you for allowing so many of my Death Eaters and those that supported us to go free from repercussions. Had they all been behind bars there is much that could not have been accomplished. I thank you for the innocents and manipulated you wrongly persecuted, many times without trails in your eagerness to have things... tidied. Had the likes of Sirius Black been allowed to speak his truths I may very well not be here today as it was only because Peter Pettigrew was able to return to my side that I was restored last June."

Percy felt his stomach flip as the Dark Lord confirmed the validity of everything which the Ministry had denounced as lies. What Harriet had warned them of, what his family believed, it was all true. Sirius Black was not with the Dark Lord. He had not been the one to break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban after all. And Scabbers, his brother’s pet, the family pet, Percy’s rat was in fact an animagus. It had been a fugitive that Percy carried in his pocket and kept next to his bed-

Uncaring or unaware of Percy’s spiraling distress from these revelations the Dark Lord continued without pause. "I thank you all for your quickness to latch on to comforting lies, I thank you for your eagerness to condemn rather than digesting unhappy truths, but most of all I thank you for your treatment of Harriet Potter."

The Dark Lord gave a laugh from deep in his chest which Percy would later swear he could feel reverberating through his bones.

"Just a little infant, a babe, and then abandoned by you all. Happy to have the war at an end you never questioned. You let her be smuggled away to parts unknown until at eleven years old she returned to the wizarding world. At eleven years old she defeated me again but were any of you the wiser? Did any of you care to know that I had been haunting the Halls of Hogwarts for a year before she drove me out?"

“Less than a year later her ability to speak parseltongue was revealed. Blessed to her by magic for her victory over me and did you question? No, you condemned your innocent savior, but her service to you were quick to be forgotten as you were fed your diet of tantalizing gossip. The papers so loved to speak in judgment of her parseltongue ability but months later barely a word in the back pages about her defeating the great basilisk of Salazar Slytherin.”

The jovial tone the Dark Lord had been using was twisted and reformed into a thing of spitting hate and disgust. Whether at Harriet or they, the citizens of the magical world, Percy could not tell you but he felt that hate and sympathized with it as he hated himself and was disgusted with them all.

You-know-who shook his head and sneered. “Pathetic, really that such skill and magical prowess would be ignored in the name of burying your heads in the sand, and ignored again when she managed to produce a corporeal patronus against a murder of dementors at only thirteen years of age. And why? Because you didn’t want to admit that you made a mistake.

“Harriet Potter proclaims Sirius Black an innocent man and no one listens. No one investigated. In her fourth year her name came out from the Goblet of Fire. She told you she did not put her name in the cup, but you did not believe. No one listened and again, no one investigates. She tells you I have returned, and you do not believe. Your Savior, a Seer, warns you of a threat but you do not let yourselves consider that it might be true. You never even went to investigate the Graveyard! Instead, led by dear Fudge you happily endorsed a lie. Even those of you who were concerned did not raise your voices. You did not act. And here we are,” Voldemort declared, his smile vicious and smug.

Turning to his left Voldemort turned that smile on Umbridge. Seeing the world through the rose colored lenses of the Imperius Curse Percy was unaffected by the expression but once he was free of it that smile would haunt his dreams for years.

“And then of course, there is you, Madam Umbridge, our shining example.”

Obviously terrified Umbridge stared back at the Dark Lord through bulging watery eyes.

You know who took a deep breath as he settled back in his chair. “I cannot put into words how eager I have been to meet Madam Umbridge. Unknowingly you have been perhaps the greatest benefactor to our cause. There is much I owe you for.”

Still bound and gagged as she was Madam Umbridge could only blink in surprise at these words said such an amiable manner.

“Where to even begin? Your accomplishments during your tenure with the Ministry have been truly unequaled. The only one who could possibly match you is of course the Minister, but many of his accomplishments bare the fingerprints of your fine work. Oh yes, to you I owe a special debt. From administrator, to Undersecretary, High Inquisitor, Professor, and now Headmistress of Hogwarts. One hardly knows where to start.

“As only a lowly file clerk you ‘misplaced’ paperwork, altered and doctored forms, placed hurdles before those you felt were undeserving, and eased the way for those you respected. Once you came to work for Fudge directly you had only greater opportunity for more of the same. All the extra lines and vague language you worked into legislation without being noticed then whispering to others of what they could do with that leeway once it was passed. But that isn’t all you whispered. You stirred up Fudge’s paranoia of Dumbledore while pushing him towards my supporters. You hampered non-purebloods from succeeding in the Ministry and blocked their access to the Minister. The numbers of rights and protections you tried and often succeeded in taking away from Muggles, Muggleborns, and Beings. Your measures alienated werewolves and others to such an extreme.”

Voldemort shook his head slowly.

“You left them with no choice but to look outside the law. To eventually turn to my side for a place in the world. After all, what choice do they have with the Ministry pushing them out of society, leaving them no other recourse. Truly, it is as though you wanted them to have no choice but to rebel. But of course, that was your goal wasn’t it? Push and push and push until they could take no more. You wanted them to rise up against the system which is so unjust to them, and when they did the Ministry would have an excuse to see them exterminated.

“And this is much the same as the tactics you deployed at Hogwarts in the hope of squashing the staff and the students alike under heel. It didn’t work for you though did it? No, it did not, as no matter what you did the true leaders of Hogwarts held. Even with Dumbledore gone others stepped up to help them all endure against you.

“In the eight months you have been at Hogwarts you have succeeded in turning most all of the schools population against the Ministry, but with you standing as an example for all it represents how could they not? Had I been willing to hold off for another year of your reign likely the student body would have welcomed my overthrowing the Ministry if for no other reason than to see you upset. After all, not even my darling Bellatrix would have thought to use blood quills on children, and she so does love marking her victims.”

There were a few quiet reactions from those around the room which the Dark Lord ignored, continuing on as though uninterrupted.

“Then there is Dumbledore, now so thoroughly stripped of his once many titles and positions. What you helped to accomplish with him since June is remarkable. Your relentless work in ripping him down provided a great boon to me, no more so than in regard to Harriet Potter as the more you challenged him the less support, attention, and protections he was able to offer her. Thanks to you not even Hogwarts could provide shelter. Not under your rule. No. Not when under your authority and personal attention she was removed from those hallowed halls to be delivered right into my hands.”

Percy was only cursory aware of the other occupants in the room reacting to this news, emboldened to do so after the Dark Lord hadn’t reacted previously. His attention was focused on the implication of those words, setting off a panic fueled by worry. He’d forgotten that Harriet was at the Ministry. A Ministry where the Dark Lord sat in a position of power and Death Eaters roamed the halls in disguise. The Imperious Curse tried to assure him that everything was fine and it didn’t matter but his concern was too great to allow for such a dismissal.

“Under other circumstances I would wish to reward you for all your actions Madam Umbridge,” the Dark Lord declared, almost looking regretful. “Indeed I could see you holding a position of great authority and prestige under my regime. You are exactly what I would wish for from one of my followers. However, it is not to be.”

In an instant all signs of friendliness vanished from You-Know-Who’s demeanor and with it all the warmth that was left in the room. The cautious hope which had been growing in the Undersecretary's face quickly died as the dark Lords expression turned from pleased to murderous. Behind her gag Umbridge whined as she shook in her bonds.

“Unfortunately for you Madam, you have committed a crime which I find to be unforgivable. For, on the second of August this previous year you sent two dementors to attack Harriet Potter.”

Shaking her head in denial Umbridge turned to Minister Fudge for support, but none was offered as she was met only with a look of pure contempt.

Looking equally disgusted the Dark Lord sneered. Banishing the gag from Umbridge’s mouth he asked, “Do you deny it? Do you name me a liar?”

Umbridge shrunk back from the bitter cold radiated out the Dark Lord as did Percy despite the voice in his mind which commanded him again to simply bear it.

After several seconds of floundering Madam Umbridge managed to answer in a shaky whisper. “I-I did it.” Taking a deep breath she seemed to find her words and continued with greater confidence. “The Minister wanted the girl discredited but no one was making meaningful progress. We had reports that she had summoned a corporeal patronus against dementors before. To cast such a spell without evidence of a dementor presence would constitute a breach of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.”

“And if she was unable to summon the patronus and received the kiss it was a reasonable risk,” Fudge asked knowingly.

“Yes Minister,” Umbridge answered, her voice shrinking again.

“Reasonable,” the Dark Lord hissed, drawing out the word. “Unfortunately for you Madam I find it to be far from such.”

Quick as a snake You-Know-Who struck, his large hand closing around Umbridge’s throat. His nails as easily pierced her skin as they had damaged the tabletop and from his touch one could see Umbridge’s skin freezing. She tried to scream but no sound made it out. She tried to struggle but her bindings were too tight. The Dark watched her writhe and spasm as the damage he wrought expanded farther and farther out from where he was chocking her. The joy and satisfaction on his face chilled Percy from the bone out while the freezing temperature of the room forced its way from the outside in.

In short order Umbridge lost consciousness. Only then did the Dark Lord release her. Percy could only stare in horror at the damage which was on displaying in front of him. The voice in his head was insistent that he ignore it, sink back into his false calm but he did not listen.

Voldemort turned towards Dolohov again. With a nudge the Death Eater forced the horrified photographer to take a picture of the room again while Voldemort stared down the camera. Once the scene was captured Dolohov dragged the man across the room to take close up shots of Umbridge.

With the sounds of this work and a few whimpers as backdrop the Dark Lord declared, “Hear this. Harriet Potter is mine. None other than myself has permission to harm her. None other than myself may take her life. No one may so much as scratch her. She… Is… Mine,” he hissed looking around the table slowly, “and any who intercede shall suffer for their trespass.”

Many in the room had been gagged or cursed into silence. Those who had the freedom to speak did not dare.

Whatever the Dark Lord intended next was not to be for as he stood from his seat the doors to the room burst open. Percy recognized the man interrupting from the wanted posters as one Rabastan Lestrange.

“My Lord, Harriet Potter is attempting escape,” he declared.

The Dark Lord’s eyes tightened on his servant but he did not appear shocked by the news. “Explain.”

Panting Rabastan tried to bring himself under control to match the decorum displayed by his Lord. “After retrieving the prophecy she escaped us on the ninth level, taking it with her. We’ve managed to hold her from progressing past the Atrium but she is putting up a fight.”

“Of course she is,” You-Know-Who said with derision. “She has stood against me three times without flinching. Why ever would she cower at the likes of you?”

Leaving the table the Dark Lord set off for the door. With the voice in his head demanding he follow, Percy reluctantly set off having to run to catch up and then jog to keep pace.

“Bring our guests along,” the Dark Lord ordered. “I want all present to witness this auspicious event. And someone keep Umbridge alive. I’m not finished with her yet.”

The Death Eaters were quickly moving to comply using various methods to see that their Lord’s desires were met. Some levitated their prisoner to hover along besides them. Some others spelled the individuals to walk themselves. A couple were carried like Madam Bones. Rita Skeeter and her photographer were encouraged to walk with a simple stinging hex from Dolohov and a flick of his wand to direct them to follow.

The voice in his head informed Percy he needed to set his eyes ahead as there was a task for him to see to. Looking forward to the Dark Lord he saw a bag was being presented to him which the voice bid him to take and keep safe. Looking at the bag he recognized it as the one in which the Dark Lord had been placing the wands of those captured. Taking the cold fabric into his own hands Percy could feel the lengths of wood inside. A wave a nauseous took over him as he thought about what he was holding. Several of these wands had been taken from their rightful owners by him. He had presented them too the Dark Lord for this collection. At the time it had seemed like simple orders, the right thing to do, but looking back on it his actions no longer felt simple or right. They felt like treason.

The voice in his head was still persisting that he should be calm and contented but Percy would no longer accept what this voice had to say. He had no wish for peace if it only brought pain later. Finding his will Percy began to fight to shed the curse. It was hard to make progress however with so many distractions pulling at his attention.

As they passed through the Ministry the sounds of spell fire and shouting could be heard in the distance.

“Fudge, to the back of the group,” Voldemort ordered.

In the next instant a wave of light passed over his body. In the reverse of what had happened earlier the light took away the monster and in its place left a man. The look was so realistic Percy might have believed he was walking next to Minister Fudge had he not seen the transformation happen before his eyes.

As they turned onto the main corridor leading to the Atrium they found the walls marred with spell damage and Umbridge’s impersonator laying unconscious on the floor. Looking ahead Percy could see spell fire flying around the Atrium. After a particularly bright flash came a concussive boom which caused all but the Dark Lord to stumble. Before Percy could regain his footing a body came soaring down the hall from the Atrium. With a flick of his wand Voldemort stopped it in midair, leaving the man floating before them. Though Percy didn’t recognize the face, he did recognize the uniform worn by Ministry Security. With a flick the moaning man floated down to lay off to the side of the hall, clearing the way forward for the Dark Lord and the procession which followed him.

Entering the atrium Percy was shocked at the state of it but his attention quickly focused on the conflict happening in the center of the room. His heart stuttered at seeing Harriet surrounded by a ring of Death Eaters. Though, despite being outnumbered it appeared she was holding her own. With the same grace she had on a broom she kept in constant motion, dodging spells while returning fire, wearing down and picking off her opponents as she went.

“Enough of this,” the Dark Lord said, doing a remarkable job of masquerading as Fudge. It wasn’t only appearances. It was in the way he spoke, the red taking over his face, and the way he strode forward toward the confrontation. “Miss Potter! What do you think you're doing! You will cease these hostilities this instant! Attacking Ministry officials! Mark my words Potter it will be Azkaban for you this time!”

The blustering declarations didn’t give Harriet pause. She paid him seemingly no mind as the Death Eaters around her ceased fire. Instead her gaze stayed locked in Percy’s direction where he stood with the rest of the procession just inside the entrance.

“Miss Potter! You will look at me when I am speaking,” the ‘Minister’ demanded.

Answering in a cold voice Harriet declared, “I have no interest in acknowledging an illusion.”

There was a moment of confusion from Percy and the crowd before it was broken by the Dark Lord’s wicked laughter ringing out to echo around the room causing many to look around for the source. Off ahead the image of the Minister went limp and lifeless, like a puppet waiting for play. As echoing and bodiless as his laughter the Dark Lord’s voice declared, “I should have known better than to think a Seer’s eye could be fooled.”

With a flash the Minister vanished while a matching flash went off behind Percy. With it came a rush of cold.

‘Stay very still,’ the voice in his head commanded but Percy’s limbs still trembled as in his peripheral he watched the Dark Lord’s arm reach around him.

“Put down your wand Miss Potter,” You-Know-Who ordered with his own wand turned threateningly on Percy’s face.

‘Stay still. Stay silent,’ the voice ordered him. It didn’t hold the same power over Percy as it had previously but he wanted to obey. He didn’t want to cause himself pain or worse death.

In front of him he could see Harriet’s concern. Even though Percy hadn’t believed her, had betrayed her trust by standing with the Ministry, she was still scared for him. She didn’t want him hurt. She didn’t want him to die. Percy could see it clearly.

Her wand began to falter.

Shoving his fears and the voice in his head aside Percy rejected self-preservation. Some things were more important.

“Don’t do it Harriet,” he shouted out to her. “Don’t!”

A spell shot out of the Dark Lord’s wand. Before Percy could fear what it would it impacted sealing his lips together. Another spell quickly followed just on the heels of the first locking Percy’s body in place from the neck down.

After a moment of silence You-Know-Who spoke, quietly enough for Percy to know these words were meant just for him. “I must admit Mister Percy Weasley that I find myself impressed. Given how you’ve spent the last year eagerly following Fudge’s propaganda I did not expect anything resembling a spine from you. Bravo Mister Weasley. You might yet do your parents proud.”

In a much louder voice the Dark Lord returned to addressing Harriet. “He fought off my Imperius Curse for you Miss Potter. Will you let him die for a pointless act of defiance? Do be sensible. Lower your wand.”

But Harriet’s wand stayed steady. The only thing which gave away her internal struggle were the involuntary twitches of her face.

“He is not my only leverage Miss Potter,” the Dark Lord reminded warningly.

As if this was a cue, from behind them the Death Eaters moved the ‘quests’ further into the room with two lines being formed. The first was made of the hostages and the second consisted of the Death Eaters standing threateningly behind.

The tip of Harriet’s wand began to slump just as Voldemort’s took aim at one of the hostages.

“Don’t,” she rushed to get out but it was too late. The red spell connected with Rita Skeeter who was standing of to the side, at the end of the line with her photographer and Dolohov. With a blood curdling scream the reporter fell to her knees as she writhed and jerked with pain.

In a quick move Harriet flipped her wand over. Holding it by the tip rather than the handle she smoothly lowered herself to place it on the floor. You-Know-Who waited until she was almost half way before cutting off his curse on Miss Skeeter who in that short time moved from kneeling to laying prawn and curled protectively around herself. With a prod from Dolohov, the photographer snapped a photo with her in the forefront and the rest of the room including hostages, Death Eaters, Harriet, and the Dark Lord behind her. The picture was just in time to capture Miss Skeeter emptying her stomach onto the floor.

Wrinkling his nose Dolohov banished her sick. With a second swish of his wand Miss Skeeter was jerked back up onto her knees, uncurling her to kneel properly which put the residual effects of her pain on display for others to see. With that seen to Dolohov looked to the photographer expectantly before pointedly looking back at Miss Skeeter.

With shaking hands another photo was shot. This one captured Rita alone as she bowed her head away from the lens.

Forcing himself to look away from the scene Percy turned his gaze to Harriet who leaving her wand on the floor had risen to stand. Her face was blank but for the clenching of her jaw. Though she was trying to hide her reaction Percy knew Harriet well enough to know she took no pleasure in seeing Skeeter’s treatment.

“Malfoy, if you would,” the Dark Lord said gesturing to where Harriet’s wand lay forfeit.

Percy watched as someone moved forward to collect as ordered while wearing the face of Unspeakable Bode. Percy didn’t know which of the Malfoy’s this may be but whether Lucius, Narcissa, or Draco he took pleasure in seeing that they walked with a bad limp and with their left arm cradled to their chest. They nearly fell trying to pick up Harriet’s wand and stumbled again when trying to catch their balance. Once they had the wand in hand they made slow progress across the atrium to the Dark Lord.

His polyjuice wore off as he was limping along revealing Lucius Malfoy.

All his life Percy heard his father speak of Lucius Malfoy. Until he came to work at the Ministry Percy believed his father’s assessment of the man’s character but once he there that changed. The Minister and many others were friendly with Lucius Malfoy. They trusted his innocence and because of this Percy felt he must appear to do the same. Over time his act became genuine doubt as to Lucius’ character. With so many people Percy respected supporting the Malfoys it was hard to hold the man suspect especially given the injury to his hand and his wife’s sickness both of which made him a more sympathetic character. Percy had begun to wonder if perhaps it was the old feud between their families which made his father paranoid about the Malfoy patriarch.

With the Dark Lord at his back while they watched Malfoy approach Percy could recalled every time the two of them had interacted. Every polite smile and small bit of conversation. The times this Death Eater had put down his father and family while complimenting Percy for ‘knowing better’. He felt foolish for having changed his view of the man but more than that he felt anger, boiling raging, anger for having his optimism used against him, for all the harm this man had done, and for the wedge he helped to form between Percy and his family.

When Lucius came to a stop in front of him Percy had the bizarre experience of watching the man carefully lower himself to the ground to bow in supplication at his feet. It was only as he raised Harriet’s wand to be taken that Percy realized this wasn’t about him. This was a servant bowing to the master who still stood at Percy’s back.

“Young Mister Weasley, take Miss Potter’s wand,” the Dark Lord instructed.

Knowing rebelling here would do no good Percy complied.

“Lucius, keep watch on Mister Weasley.”

Bowing his head in acknowledgement Malfoy struggled back to his feet before leveling his wand on Percy.

As Malfoy moved around his right side to take up a position at his back, You-Know-Who moved around Percy’s left to come out from behind him. With his long graceful strides he cleared the Atrium floor quickly until he stood with those Death Eaters who still encircled Harriet. With a wave of his hand he dismissed his servants who bowed respectfully to their Lord as they retreated.

With the space cleared the Dark Lord was free to circle Harriet without obstruction. He was the very image of predator toying with his prey before the lunge. As tall as Harriet had grown she seemed small next to the height of this monstrous being. While puberty had certainly come for her she still looked incredibly young standing there in her Hogwarts’ uniform as the most feared man in British Wizarding history stalked around her. But she didn’t cower. Not Harriet. She was just a child standing against a demon but she stood her ground, tracking and glaring at the Dark Lord as he finished his circuit.

Off to the side there was the flash of another photograph being taken but Percy’s fear for Harriet kept his eyes glued on her.

As the Dark Lord came to a stop he asked conversationally, “Miss Potter…Did Dumbledore ever reveal to you why your parents died?”

Unflinchingly Harriet stood tall. “He didn’t need to. Peter Pettigrew took care of that for him when he confessed to betraying their secret to you.”

The monster smiled fully, revealing the points of his teeth and the blue flesh of his gums. “Yes. For such a sniveling coward Peter proved his usefulness, but it is not his actions that I speak of. Did Dumbledore ever tell you what forced your parents to go into hiding? For while your parents were a nuisance they hardly warranted that I go out of my way to kill them. Not on their own… Were you ever told why a target was put on your back?”

Harriet said nothing but the familiar twitching of irritation in her features made Percy think she hadn’t been told.

Undeterred by her lack of response the Dark Lord continued, “Before you were born your mentor, Sybill Trelawney delivered a prophecy. Only Albus Dumbledore knows what it says in its entirety. Let us fix that shall we?”

Harriet stayed stubbornly still and unresponsive. The projection of civility the Dark Lord was presenting held up against her defiance. His face settled into a fatherly scowl showing only mild irritation and disappointment. With their gazes locked a battle of wills passed between the two enemies. The match ended when Harriet’s gaze skirted away to pass over the line of hostages before settling on Percy. After taking him in for a moment she finally blinked and then lowered her eyes. With her shame clearly displayed Harriet took the pouch that was dangling from her wrist and held it out to You-Know-Who.

“Take it out,” the Dark Lord ordered with a blaze in his eyes. “Let us see what it has to say.”

Clenching her jaw Harriet did as he requested. She took hold of the object within the pouch through the bottom before using her other hand to pull open the drawstrings allowing the top to fall down revealing a glowing orb.

“Very amusing Miss Potter,” the Dark Lord said sounding nothing like amused. Percy worried You-Know-Who’s patience was running out. “But we both know a prophecy must be touched to be heard.”

Unmoving Harriet glared at him.

Raising his wand Voldemort aimed it at one of the hostages. With a quick glance Percy was able to see that the target looked to be Madam Bones. Knowing that whatever fate would befall the woman would not be kind Harriet unhappily complied with the Dark Lord’s wishes. Looking scared for the first time that night she let a finger touch the orb’s surface. Skin on glass.

The sound of a rattling inhaled breath filled the atrium. Then, a voice unlike any Percy had previous heard spoke the words,

“The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches…
Child to those who have thrice defied him,
She will be born as the seventh month dies,
With power the Dark Lord knows not…
And the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal.
By her power and her power alone can his reign end…
Should her words be heeded prosperity will follow…
She with this power will be born as the seventh month dies.
Given the name Potter she shall be the bringer of light.”

As the words came to an end silence took the room.

After a few breaths of stillness Harriet moved with care to cover the orb again.

In a move which froze Percy with horror the Dark Lord slowly leveled his wand on Harriet. Unable to look away Percy stared believing he was about to witness her death. Instead of the killing curse he was expecting the pouch holding the prophecy was anticlimactically levitated gently from Harriet’s hand to float over to the Dark Lord. Holding it before him You-Know-Who studied his prize with a critical eye as though he could see through the fabric to what lay within. Sliding his gaze past it he met Harriet’s eye. Then quite unexpectedly and apropos of nothing the Dark Lord threw his head back releasing an attack of uproarious laughter. Hesitantly some of his people joined in, but just as quickly as he stated their Lord ceased and they too went silent.

Sizing Harriet up the Dark Lord looked amused. Carelessly he tossed the bag containing the prophecy over his shoulder. It flew through the air, landing in the fountain. Involuntarily a horrified looking Harriet took a step forward, reaching out towards the bag, but a step was all she managed before she remembered the position she was in and stayed herself.

As the Dark Lord aimed his wand on her again, Harriet glared him down. “You’ve tried to kill me in the past. It’s never gone well for you,” she reminded him.

You-Know-Who’s amusement only grew. “Kill you? Oh no Miss Potter, I have no intention of killing you. I, unlike others, learn from my mistakes.”

This confused Harriet and Percy both. Due to the shifting Percy could see from others in his peripheral he suspected it was the same for them.

The Dark Lord smiled at Harriet pityingly. “Have you not questioned why I sent you from the graveyard? Unharmed. Unchallenged. I even gave you back your wand. Did you not wonder?”

“I’m not one to waste time trying to understand mad men,” Harriet rebuked but Percy knew her. Of course she questioned it.

“Brilliance has often been mistaken for madness,” the Dark Lord hissed, his composure slipping from his grasp before he reigned it back in with a deep breath. “‘The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches. Child to those who have thrice defied him, she will be born as the seventh month dies.’ That is all my spies were able to bring to me of the prophecy when it was told. They knew nothing of what came after, but Dumbledore did. July came to an end, and with the first of August word was on the wind that the Potters were in hiding with their new baby girl. You were but a babe. However Dumbledore would have made you into a beacon of hope for the resistance, and hope can be a powerful weapon. This meant I could not leave you be. With our victory so close on the horizon I couldn’t leave you out there to empower Dumbledore. It took some time to find you, but find you I did.”

Harriet looked down as she processed this news. Percy’s heart went out to her. He could not imagine the pain of learning your parents had died because someone wanted to get to you.

“I was a fool,” the Dark Lord admitted. Reluctantly Harriet looked back up to him. “I, like others dismissed divination and the validity of prophecy. I felt they were merely words said by a desperate woman looking to ensure herself a job. Whatever else she had to say would surely be of no importance.”

You-Know-Who shook his head which lead into a chuckle.

“‘With power the Dark Lord knows not’ indeed. I didn’t know then what I was facing but I am free of that ignorance now. How could I not be when that power is now also my own?”

Harriet frowned at You-Know-Who.

Holding up his free hand the Dark Lord examined his arm. It took Percy a moment to recognize the expression on his inhuman face was adoration. “I have always been more than other men, but thanks to the power running through your veins I now truly a god, standing above all others. All that is, but you Miss Potter, the one who unwillingly gave this blessing to me.”

With widening eyes Harriet said something but the words were too soft to reach Percy’s ears.

The Dark Lord looked at her and smiled. “Yes, the blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. Your blood, used to restore me.”

Reaching up the Dark Lord ran his hand like a lovers caress over his bald scalp, down to his cheek, neck, then his naked chest. Feeling as though he was looking at something indecent Percy turned his attention to Harriet who was looking doubtful.

Skeptically Harriet asked, “What does my blood have to do with…,” trailing off she waved her hand in a gesture to encompass all of the Dark Lord’s towering form.

“Because what I have become is thanks to your blood.”

Percy was thoroughly baffled. Harriet looked the same.

Holding out his hand the Dark Lord ordered, “Come to me Potter.” When Harriet hesitated he abandoned his facade of congeniality to bellow, “Come to me!”

Swallowing down her nerves Harriet stepped forward. Then took another. And another. Very slowly she crossed the space between them until she was in reach of the Dark Lord.

Percy could hear Malfoy’s breathing speeding up behind him. Hearing the Death Eater’s agitation only worsened his sense of dread as he imagined what kind of trap Lucius was anticipating being sprung.

Back to hiding his true colors the Dark Lord extended a hand to Harriet.

“Take my hand,” the Dark Lord enticed.

Harriet eyed it leerily.

“Take my hand Miss Potter,” the Dark Lord tried again with a hint of warning coming through.

Wrapping herself in Gryffindor courage Harriet glared up at monster before her. Defiantly she held his gaze while placing her hand in his.

Behind Percy Malfoy’s breathing cut off entirely.

At first Percy couldn’t see that anything was happening, but by Harriet’s reaction he realized something must be as her mouth opened in to gape as she tried to yank her hand free, but the Dark Lord held on firmly as she continued in futility. Percy moved to step forward, to go to her and help in what way he did not know but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and Malfoy’s wand pressing into his neck.

Sounding alarmed but not pained Harriet demanded, “What are you doing to me?!”

“Revealing the truth,” Voldemort declared.

Reaching out he forced the sleeve of Harriet’s shirt and robe up her arm.

With You-Know-Who’s large hand still gasping hers, Harriet’s hand was entirely hidden from his view but with her arm revealed Percy and the others could see what was happening. Horrified he watched as a blue hue took over Harriet’s skin spreading further and further up her arm with no sign of stopping.

“What,” Malfoy whispered sounding as disturbed by events as Percy felt.

“Let go of me,” Harriet demanded, still trying to pull away. Her voice moved towards a shriek. “What are you doing! Stop it! Stop it!”

Percy felt his gut twisting with distress which was only heightened by Harriet’s displaying her own. In Percy’s experience she was more reserved and contained with her emotions leaving any outbursts to Ron and occasionally Hermione. Watching her brought to such a state of blatant panic, trapped in this monster’s clutches while a change was forced on her was something Percy could hardly bare to watch.

Devolving into animalistic instinct to fight and escape Harriet frantically fought screaming with fury but the Dark Lord held her firm, watching stone faced as the transformation continued up beyond the collar of her shirt to lay claim to Harriet’s face causing her pale skin and flushed cheeks to turn blue and her green eyes red.

Only once the transformation was completed did the Dark Lord release her.

Staggering back Harriet tried to take account of herself. Tugging at her clothes as she went, looking to see those parts of her body that were covered to discover what all had been changed. Stepping to the side Voldemort turned his wand on the foundation. The trajectory of the water spouting from the Wizards wand changed its arc to lazily flow through the air to the spot where the Dark Lord and Harriet stood. As it hit the ground the water began to freeze with the ice building up on itself until it formed a solid bridge connecting the floor back to the tip of the statue’s wand. Before Percy’s eyes the surface smoothed and polished to become an effective mirror.

“This,” the Dark Lord proclaimed, gesturing at Harriet’s reflection, “is your true potential.”

Twisted around as she was, to try getting a look at her back, Harriet unwound herself to confront him only to come face to face with her reflection. On shaky legs she made her way forward. Reaching out she touched a finger to the ice. Captured by what she saw she whispered, “How?”

“A being inheritance,” You-Know-Who explained, staring at the reflection as well. “Carried through the Potter blood. A blessing brought from ancestors beyond this world. In ancient times we called them Frost Giants, until they gave us their true name. The Jotunn of Jotunheim.”

“I’m not human,” Harriet asked, disbelieving but unable to look away from the evidence before her eyes.

The Dark Lord sneered but brought his face back under control before explaining. “Oh, you are human. A blessed human. Slightly more than others but still undeniably human.”

As though influenced by his words the red faded out of Harriet’s eyes and on its heels the blue hue from her skin. Suspicion scratched at Percy’s mind. The Dark Lord had proven willing to engage in deception and capable of conjuring convincing illusions to support them. If he could present himself as Fudge and send that projection out ahead of where he stood, how hard would it be for him to project a change in color? After all that was all they had seen; a change to the color of Harriet’s skin and eyes. There was no change to her height. Her hair was still on her head. The rest of the monstrous traits the Dark Lord possessed were not present in her appearance. What if this was a trick? Slytherins were known for their cleverness. Their lies. Percy could not fathom a reason for the Dark Lord to lie about this but he was a Gryffindor. Lies and deception were not his traits. Perhaps the Dark Lord was trying to throw Harriet off? Maybe he was trying to discredit her as a halfbreed?

“The magic you inherited from these ancestors allows you this form as well as the protection that saved you from my Killing Cruse, but human born and human bodied you came into this world. Think of it as an animagus form if you will. While it is a part of who you are, you are still fundamentally a human witch.”

Turning away from her reflection Harriet looked to You-Know-Who. “Then why aren’t you human,” she asked challengingly.

The Dark Lord smiled smugly. “I believed as Dumbledore proclaimed, that it was a protection arranged by your parents which was responsible for my failure to kill you that fateful night. Because of this in designing the ritual that allowed for my return I developed it with measures to extend that protection onto myself.”

Looking at his hand the Dark Lord flexed. Harriet watched the movement as well as she spoke her suspicions. “It worked as designed but not towards the results you anticipated. You bargained for my mother’s protection and got the full benefit of my being inheritance instead.”

You-Know-Who smiled again. That which was the worst of his smiles stretched out across his face, showing off his sharp teeth. Leaning forward he loomed over Harriet. “‘A power he knows not.’ That Halloween night your power did indeed lead to my defeat, my demise. I was very much dead. A wreath haunting the world. But now I am restored with that inheritance now added to my might.

“Dumbledore would have done well to place less faith in prophecy and take a more active interest in working against me. He should have ensured that things went as he wished. Instead of playing politics and keeping his distance he should have kept you safe. But he didn’t. Now you are here and tonight, we will quell any doubts caused by my previous defeat. Tonight we will show the world that my reign has only begun, and no beacon of light will stop The Lord Voldemort, no matter how brightly she may shine.”

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord barked still looming into Harriet’s space. Holding out his hand in their direction he ordered, “Her wand.”

Reaching out Malfoy snatched Harriet’s wand from Percy who gave a token struggle to keep it from him but was only hexed for his trouble. With Harriet’s wand in hand Malfoy cut a square from Percy’s robe with one spell before charming the scrap into the likeness of a bird which took Harriet’s wand in its grasp before flying off. Upon delivering the wand into the Dark Lord’s waiting hand the bird returned to its original form leaving the unanimated square of brown cloth to float to the floor.

Pulling out of her space the Dark Lord presented Harriet her wand. With that damn smile back on his face, he proclaimed victoriously, “It is time.”

Nodding stiffly Harriet reached out to take her wand.

“I assume you know the form,” You-Know-Who asked as he strode to put some distance between them.

Harriet nodded in agreement but the Dark Lord ignored this.

“First we bow to one another,” he instructed sounding nearly giddy.

As he bowed to Harriet she mirrored the movement in return.

When they stood again they moved as one to ready positions.

To Harriet the Dark Lord offered, “The first move I leave to you.”

Looking suspicious Harriet studied Voldemort. Then in what seemed an absurd act of stupidity she turned her back on her opponent to take aim at the fountain. As a spell charged off out from her wand Voldemort fired one of his own. With eyes in the back of her head Harriet was able to dodge it and the next strike that came her way while taking off at a sprint.

Her spell which Percy had been to distracted to keep track of hit the ice arc the Dark Lord had created. Taking immediate effect it caused the entire mass to crack with millions of small hairline fractures. While dodging You-Know-Who’s spells Harriet sent a second and third spell off both aimed at the ice as well. When her third spell hit the arc shattered completely into tiny shards which quickly began clattering to the floor. Waving her wand in a circular motion Harriet summoned all the pieces to gather into a single dense cloud in the air which moved and circled like a hurricane with a clear eye in the middle. The tighter she gathered the cloud the more the pieces collided with each other breaking down into smaller pieces, their sharp edges being tumbled away.

Whatever Harriet was attempting could not be completed before one of You-Know-Who’s spells sent her diving to the floor to avoid the attack. For a moment the cloud of ice lost the magic supporting it and began to plummet for the floor but Harriet quickly recovered. As she got to her feet she raised her wand again to continue to continue the circular motion which further condensed the cloud as she ran towards it. Once she stood within several feet of the cloud she sharply reverse her wand motion. The ice which had been broken down to a snowlike consistency suddenly bloomed outwards creating a white cover which instantly hid Harriet from sight before continuing out to take up more and more of the Atrium.

Not waiting for it to reach him Voldemort charged ahead into the blizzard where he disappeared from Percy’s sight just as Harriet had.

With the storm quickly expanding to change the landscape of the Atrium many of the Death Eaters pushed forward to create a line between it and the hostages. Contrary to this Malfoy did not move forward. Instead Percy found himself being dragged back, away from where he stood. With Malfoy’s arm wrapped around his chest and the man’s wand aimed at his cheek, Percy had little choice but to give in to the handling.

Using Percy as a human shield Malfoy continued quickly walking them back until they collided with the wall. Once there he changed their course, heading for the exit which would take them deeper into the Ministry with Percy pressed at Malfoy’s side to shield him from the room.

Looking back at the Death Eater Percy found Malfoy’s face to be the picture terror. He was pale, sweat poured down his face, his eyes were wide and wild, and their was a tremble wracking his body. Percy could not understand what had the man so scared.

Struggling to keep up with the pace Malfoy set while forced by the hold on him to walk side step, Percy was stumbling and falling and generally only kept his feet under him because he was being held up.

“We aren’t safe here,” Malfoy snarled at him as he tripped again, slowing their progress. “I’ve seen the Dark Lord’s storms. The destruction they reek. The girl was a fool to bring ice into the dual. If you want to live keep moving!”

Motivated by Malfoy’s words Percy looked up to take measure of the snow storm. Rather than thinning out as it spread it appeared to be getting more dense with snow and it certainly had grown, with more of the Atrium in its circumference than outside of it.

From within the whiteout a bolt of spell fire the color of blood went traveling like lightning becoming more visible the further towards the edge it came. The Death Eater it was heading for tried raising a shield to protect himself and the hostages behind him but it failed to stop what was coming. As the bolt struck his body he became a point of distribution sending red lightning arcing out of his body to hit the wall, the floor, his comrades, and hostages alike while he spasmed. The Death Eaters in the area were so concerned with getting themselves and their hostages out of range that they did not see the tight succession of spells heading in their direction from within the storm. Of the roughly half a dozen shots fired four connected to Death Eaters while the rest sailed harmlessly past to hit the walls. However the effect it had on the Death Eaters was very far from the lack of impact it had on intimate objects. They were being crushed. A force like an invisible snake coiled around them keeping their arms to their sides and their legs trapped together while they were squeeze tighter and tighter.

Horrified Percy came to a stop as he took in what was happening.

Unable to move him and too impatient to spent more than a second trying Lucius shoved Percy aside to making a desperate run for the exit on his own.

As he watched Malfoy run away something came over Percy he had never experienced before. A kind of righteous fury took hold the likes of which not even the twins in their many years of teasing and pranking had managed to bring out in him.

With that famous Gryffindor recklessness egging him on Percy drew his wand. As a pawn under the imperius curse his wand had not been stripped from him as the others had. Perhaps Malfoy didn’t realize this or perhaps he didn’t care, not suspecting that Percy would be bold enough to use it. But what Lucius thought didn’t change what was. Behind the hostages and guards who were focused on the storm and stray fire from the duel within, and with Malfoy’s attention on getting away there were no eyes to spot Percy and stop him. He was free to take action and he had every intention to.

With a steady hand he aimed his wand at Malfoy’s back and fired. The stunner was barely visible and drew no attention as it flew. Between one step and the next Malfoy was hit. Unconscious he fell mid-step to the ground, face first, triggering a vindictiveness Percy would usually feel guilty for. There was no guilt for this though. Not with what this man was. Not after the night Percy had.

With no guilt to bring him to hesitate Percy sent off four more spells at the helpless Malfoy. He wanted others to think Malfoy had been a casualty of Harriet and You-Know-Who’s duel but didn’t wish to leave the Death Eater to be revived then rejoin the fight or get away. Remembering the trouble Harriet had in his sixth year when Lockhart removed the bones from her arm, Percy saw to it that the bones in Malfoy’s arms and legs were shattered beyond what could be quickly repaired. Even if he was revived, Lucius Malfoy would not be rejoining this fight without at least a solid night of care under an experienced healer. As a last extra measure Percy summoned Malfoy’s wand to him.

As he fumbled to catch the wand Percy looked around anxiously to see if retribution was coming for him from the other Death Eaters but it seemed with everything that was going on no one noticed what he had done. Percy gave a sigh of relief and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Fates for their favoring of him and asked that they stay with on his side through this trial.

Suddenly, there was a massive blast which shook the floor. Between this, the stray spell fire, and the blizzard continuing to expand what Death Eaters were still attempting to hold the line fell back. Many wounded and hostages were taken with them but some were left behind with the bodies Percy assumed to be dead. He could make out one of the hostages pinned nearby under such a body but trying to wriggle themselves free. They were just on the edge of the snow making it hard to see them clearly, but Percy thought he recognized the hostage as Madam Bones.

Seeing an opportunity Percy began crawling on hands and knees towards the pair. Not certain the man was dead he took the extra precaution of sending a stunner at the Death Eater and then a disarming charm as he went. Unconcerned for the man’s well being should he be alive, Percy used a launching charm to send him flying off of Madam Bones. As the man flipped off to roll along the ground Bones looked around to see what had caused it. Getting to her side Percy laid down besides her to avoid attention and making himself an easy target. Heart pounding he hoped that anyone who saw them wouldn’t realize what he was up to.

Leaning close to Madam Bone’s ear Percy explained softly, “I don’t know the counter curse to release you.”

He wanted to pull back to see how his words were received and to put distance between them as they were inappropriately close but any movement might be the action that got him caught.

Turning her head to his ear Madam Bone’s asked, “Did you hear the incantation?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll have to work our way through until we find the right one.”

Not wasting any time she began reciting counters with instructions on wand movement and dutifully Percy followed her direction using his body to hide the movements and hoping the snow that whipped around them would do the rest. With her foundation as the member of an old wizarding family built up by a long career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bones was familiar with many spells that could have used to restrain her. Unfortunately whoever had been in charge of binding her had the forethought to layer the spells they used. For every success they had there were a number of failures. It meant minutes were wasted that they couldn’t afford with enemies about and the storm Harriet had started growing more severe with every passing moment. They had become completely lost in the storm. Being able to hear one another over the rush of the wind and snow was a struggle.

Through a shivering jaw Percy interrupted their work to ask, “Should I move us back?”

“The storm gives us cover,” Bones reasoned almost having to shout for Percy to hear her. “Keep going.”

And so they did, until finally Bones was free. Percy only knew this because she told him. Despite being so close he could not see her moving for himself.

“It won’t be safe to be in here much longer,” Madam Bone’s warned.

Remembering Lucius words Percy asked, “Do you think Voldemort took over the spell?”

“Possibly,” Bones agreed. “Unless you think Miss Potter is capable of such a feat…”

Percy shook his head before remembering it could not be seen. “I-I don’t think she could.”

“Whatever the case, we need to get moving.”

“What do we do?”

“I need a wand. Do you know where that one’s ended up? Do you think you could summon it?”

Feeling like a fool Percy dug into the lining of his robe where he had stored the bag of wands the Dark Lord presented him with. Without explaining he thrust it towards Madam Bones until he felt his hand collide with her. “I think your wand might be in here.”

He felt the bag being supported by another set of hands and let it go.

“Well done Mister Weasley,” Madam Bones praised him as she discovered what he had handed over.

Percy said nothing in return as he remembered how he helped to separate those wands from their rightful owners. Imperius curse or not Percy had aided the magical world’s worst enemies this night.

Off in the distance there was a bare hint of green moving at speed through the white.

Having presumably found her own wand or at least one which would work for her, Madam Bones grabbed hold of Percy’s upper arm to guide him by. Creating a magical wedge of protection she plowed ahead through the storm taking Percy with her. As they went she explained her plan. “Our first priority is to get you out. I’ll remain behind to do what I can but I’ll be relying on you to get us support.”

“But who can we trust,” Percy asked thinking on all the names referenced and faces he had seen standing proudly for the Dark Lord. Even the Minister. How could they trust that anyone they went to wouldn’t turn on them?

“I know you’re on the outs but I can’t imagine your parents taking measures to block you from their floo. You’ll go to them. Let them know what’s happening.”

Percy couldn’t see how his parents would be able to help. His father may have years of experience working for the Ministry but that work had been in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Besides that he was only one man and his mother was only a house wife. Beyond that, the thought of running home to send them into this…

“What if father’s compromised,” Percy asked. He though of all those who had declared to be under the imperius curse after the last war. Having just been under it himself he could attest to how far beyond their normal morals a person could be expected to act. It was comforting to think that perhaps there weren’t so many willingly standing for the Dark but it was also distressing to realize they had to consider even those like his father could be made to stand against them.

Madam Bone’s did not share this concern.

“Not Author Weasley,” she declared. “Not your father.”

Having found their way to the wall Madam Bones kept it to their left as they worked there way around the parameter to the floos. Percy was trusting she did indeed know which way they should be going as he was too turned around to tell for himself. As they progressed they came across a Death Eater lying stunned on the floor. In an instant Bones was restraining him then securing him against the wall. With the man’s wand added to their collection they continued onward.

The circular room had just begun to turn inwards when a bang went off in the center. The noise of it left Percy’s ears ringing while the force blew the storm out, crashing snow against the walls, ceiling, and floor while dissipating the magic which had been keeping it moving. Knocked back by the sudden amount of snow blasted their way Bone’s lost her hold on Percy who was only just able to keep hold of his wand as he was overwhelmed and buried.

When finally Percy excavated himself he found the air was clear allowing him to surveil the room.

The wreckage was wide flung. The fountain had been broken and mangled into an unrecognizable collection of debris strewn out across the floor with a few pieces stuck into the walls though that wasn’t the only damage the walls had received. The floors weren’t much better. It was hard to make a full accounting of the damage though as without the wind to drown it out Percy attention was pulled to incantations he could hear and the resulting spells which marked Harriet and the Dark Lord’s continuing confrontation. He couldn’t see the pair however as they were hidden behind the sprays from the ruins of the fountain which shot water up into the air without any guidance, creating geysers rushing in various directions.

Seeing that Madam Bones was freeing herself Percy worked towards doing the same. Following her example he stayed crouched down once he was clear of the snow bank. With their cover gone they could see everything which meant they could be seen as well. As his eyes moved towards the Floo Percy caught sight of several Death Eaters gathered there.

“Madam Bones,” he prompted, directing her attention towards the floo just in time for one of the Death Eaters to start to make their way towards the nearest fireplace only to be stopped by another with an argument resulting.

“We have to move. We can’t let them get away,” Bones whispered fiercely. It was a sentiment Percy shared.

Leading the way Bones ran until they reached a chunk of the ceiling which had fallen, a chuck easily large enough to provide them cover.

Looking off to the floo Bone’s asked, “How are you at the invisibility charm?”

“I don’t know how to,” Percy admitted distractedly for from their new vantage point he could see the far side of the fountain where Harriet and the Dark Lord were still locked in a duel the likes of which he had only read about.

Bones allowed herself a quick curse before proceeding with her instructions. “I won’t be able to take you with me then as we’ll need the element of surprise. Once I’ve placed myself between the group and the floos I’ll make my move. With their attention on me you might be able to take out a few out from behind or at least make a nuisance of yourself. If you avoid spells with a visible trail or flash it will hopefully keep anyone from noticing where they are coming from. However, you’ll likely have to leave this cover to get a clear shot, so be prepared for trouble to find you.”

When she got no response Bones turned towards the boy concerned. “Mister Weasley?”

As the boy was still conscious but staring ahead Bone’s followed his gaze and froze herself.

In leisure time Bones had been privileged to see some of the finest duelers practice their craft in the controlled structured environment provided by the professional circuit. During her work for the Ministry she had seen some of the finest they had to offer showcase their skills in training and the line of duty. As a survivor of the last war she had seen individuals as they fought for their lives showing the full breath of their skill against opponents willing to use some of the most reprehensible of the magical arts. However, despite all she had seen, Amelia Bones was still taken aback by what was taking place in front of her.

The power being demonstrated.

The complex magics they were bringing to the fore.

The grace with which the pair cast and moved in their violent dance. A dance, with the two parrying and attacking where they could. There was however, no harmony to be found in this dance. Rather than working together as two parts of one whole this pair were fire and water, unable to occupy the same space. As the water worked to drown the flames, the fire worked to evaporate the water.

Given his age and reputation Bones expected this level of ability from Voldemort but from Miss Potter she had not. Being able to reportedly cast a patronus at fifteen was one thing but what skill she was showing in this duel was on an entirely different level. Miss Potter may not have been winning but she was managing to hold her own against a wizard who was much older and more experienced with herself, who had managed to kill almost every opponent he came against. To be able to stand again Voldemort at such a young age was nay unbelievable. The girl was showing herself to be a prodigy the likes of which the wizarding world was lucky to see once in a generation. Undoubtedly if she survived, Harriet Potter’s name would go down as a lasting legend the likes of Merlin, the Founders, or Dumbledore.

Movement at the corner of her eye drew Bones’ attention back to the floos where one of the Death Eaters was cursing a member of his own for again trying to make an escape.

Reminded that now was not the time to be a spectator but rather a participant, Bones gave her companion’s shoulder a firm shake. “Weasley!”

Stiffly he turned away from the fight to give her his attention.

“Are you with me?”

Swallowing, Percy tried to look back to the duel.

Sending a stinging hex to his cheek Bones demanded again, “Are you with me?” Her tone left no room for a denial.

Nodding Percy blinked while his face slowly set with determination. “Yes Ma’am.”

Only half satisfied she asked, “Do you remember what to do?”

The boy nodded. Not having the time to hold his hand Bones took him at his word.

“Watch your back then,” she instructed before setting her concentration on hiding herself from sight. All known invisibility spells required continual sustaining. Because of this one was limited in what they could do while hidden. If your focus strayed you would be revealed making it impossible to cast another spell without first letting your invisibility lapse.

Once invisible to the eye Bones left Mister Weasley behind to continue around the edge of the Atrium towards the entrance. For her own safety she needed to keep an eye on what was happening but to maintain her spell she couldn’t let herself pay too close attention to the duel. It was a tricky balance to keep. Twice she almost revealed herself when she became distracted by conflict which dominated the center of the room but eventually she managed to successfully make her way unseen to where the Death Eaters and some of their hostages were gathered.

Quietly as she could Bones moved around them to get herself into a position to better assess the situation. Her heart plummeted at what she saw. The fires had been put out. Occasionally you would see one floo or another snuffed for maintenance but this was all of them. There would be no using the floos to escape and judging by the lack of guards at the apparition points that route was closed to them as well.

There only hope would be the entrance which brought people in from muggle London. If it was still working it would allow them to send Weasley out but if it was their only means to come and go it would make getting backup into the Ministry extremely difficult as for secrecy’s sake the visitors entrance was very marginally expanded. It was only enough to be noticed by a trained eye and as such there was a very limited number of bodies that could be packed inside and certainly not with wands at the ready. Worse than that their incoming backup would be easily spotted giving the Death Eaters ample time to prepare themselves.

Turning back around Bones looked to see what she was up against and what possible allies she might be freeing. It was a relief to see Rufus Scrimgeour among the hostages. They didn’t always see eye to eye but he hadn’t risen to the position of Head Auror for nothing. No doubt he would take as much time freeing as she herself had but once he had a wand in his hand he would be a useful ally. The rest of the hostages were unlikely to prove the same. Hamish Hepworth, Head of the Being Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was a competent caster but sadly not only unconscious but also badly injured. Next to him was Millicent Berrycloth who was lost in a panic. Bones felt no sympathy for her fellow Wizengamot member who had supported Lucius Malfoy and his ilk loyally since gaining her seat. The last of the hostages being kept there was Miss Rita Skeeter and her photographer Bozon ‘Bozo’ Bonar. Bones suspected Rita would have a few tricks up her sleeve if a wand was put in her hand but Bones wouldn’t want the woman watching her back as she trusted the reporter would only to act in service to her own survival.

Of the Death Eaters, they were all familiar faces.

There was Antonin Dolohov, responsible for the torture and deaths of many in the last war including Fabian and Gibeon Prewett, both of whom had been members of the Order of the Phoenix alongside Bones’ dear brother Edgar.

Next to him Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black was watching her Lord duel with rapt attention. Bellatrix too was responsible for the torture and death of many but the closest to Bones’ heart were Alice and Frank Longbottom. They had been good people and good aurors, with a little boy and a bright future ahead of them. The war was over, the Dark Lord gone, and yet everything was still taken from them. One last lost.

Next to Bellatrix was Augustus Rookwood. Once an Unspeakable he betrayed them all by turning to Voldemort’s side and serving as a spy within the Ministry. Among the Death Eater’s they convicted after the first war, Rookwood’s hands in theory were the most clean as he had been kept away from any action which might compromise his position as a spy. In practicalities this didn’t make him anymore innocent than the others. The information he passed on awarded Voldemort’s campaign with many advantages which led to dozens if not hundreds of deaths.

The last three’s Death Eaters were less personal to Bones though no less heinous. Pyrites. Selwyn. Rowle. They weren’t known for being the most skilled of the Dark Lord’s forces but with the other three in play and five hostages to be used against her the odds were stacked against Bones, but chance it seemed was falling to her favor.

Building up a whip of fire above his head the Dark Lord cast it out in Miss Potter’s direction but being the skilled girl she was Potter used a levitation spell to lunch herself above the wave of heat and cursed flame, into the spray of the fountain. With no target to latch onto the spell continued on, heading straight for the floos and the Death Eaters who stood the closest living things in its path. As the Death Eaters readied to defend themselves Bones took advantage of their attention being so focused away from her.

Letting her invisibility spell drop Bones aimed for the hostages. Focusing on their bindings she accoid for them to come to her. As securely bound as these five were they were dragged along. Summoning a living thing was always a risky maneuver for the damage that might be done on the journey among other factors but it was a risk Bones was willing to take for this short journey as she only held the spell for a moment before cutting it, allowing momentum to carry them on a ways. The goal wasn’t to get them completely out of reach of the Death Eaters. Just out of the path of her next spell.

As their focus still on the incoming flames the Death Eaters remained ignorant of what was happening behind them. With the element of surprise still on her side Bones quickly launched into her attack. Unable to effectively take out all six at once she aimed for Pyrites and Rowle first. She reasoned as large targets they would have the least chance of dodging and with hopefully two less opponents in play she could focus on the bigger threats.

Two simple rapid fire Everte Statum were all it took. Unprepared as they were Pyrites and Rowle were sent flipping into the air. They were caught so off unprepared they couldn’t get their protections up before they flew into the Dark Lord’s creation. Bones didn’t bother to pay witness to their deaths. There was a choice to be made; Move her wand to the left and likely dispatch Selwyn quickly or move her wand to the right and engage Bellatrix before she had time to fully prepare.

She chose Bellatrix.

With two of their compatriots screaming out their last breaths, it would be a fool’s hope that the Death Eaters might not look back to see what trouble caused their demise.

Rookwood at least did not turn and Selwyn dropped to the ground looking to avoid the trouble coming from both ahead and behind while Bellatrix and Dolohov more smartly kept their wands focused on the fire while looking back to see what they were dealing with.

A wordless Bombara Maxima left Bone’s wand even as she was moving it on to its new target.

“Bones,” Dolohov cursed even as Bellatrix turned casting a shield to protect herself as she realized she was Bone’s target.

Anticipating such a protection was exactly why Bones had chosen Bombara Maxima. As her spell impacted on Bellatrix’s shield the force of the resulting explosion sent Bellatrix stumbling back. It was only Dolohov’s quick spell work which saved her from sharing the same fate as the late Pyrites and Rowle.

With Bellatrix flying safely over the flames and Rookwood focused no holding back the curse, Dolohov turned to engage Bones. Seeing this Selwyn rose to join his compatriot rather than holding to his position on the floor.

Standing still at a standoff with wands at the ready all three were hesitant to make the first move.

“Leave your wand and get our guests out of the way Selwyn,” Dolohov instructed.

“What,” Bones asked confused while Selwyn demanded, “You can’t be serious!”

“The Dark Lord’s been clear. Our orders are that none die tonight unless by his hand. Do you want to face his punishment should one of this lot gets caught in the crossfire?”

Selwyn shivered looking pale. Looking between Bones and the hostages he considered his options before demanding, “Your word on your family’s life that hostilities hold until these five are moved.”

Bones glared but gave her word, “I shall not attack unless first provoked.”

Selywn looked to Dolohov who gave him a nod. “I’ll keep watch on her. Just get to work.”

Hesitatingly Selywn bent to put his wand on the ground while Bones considered the fact that she was allowing this. She kept her wand on Dolohov but moved with Selywn ready to stop him if she saw signs of foul play against the others. It was an odd respite after all that had happened but that only made the anticipation for when it broke grow.

As the work was carried out the air became stifling hot made only worse for having just endured the freezing temperatures in the Atrium. Rookwood was successfully holding back the flames but the curse continued to pursue them, battering against the shield which he used to block the entrance.

Once all the hostages were moved safely aside Selwyn returned to where he previously stood. As he knelt to collect his wand Rookwood managed to bring an end to the Dark Lord’s curse, banishing the flames from existence. As Rookwood turned to stand at the ready against her Dolohov smiled with vicious satisfaction. She’d played in their favor by letting the hostages be moved. It was a mistake Bones realized but she didn’t waste time being angry at herself for it. She couldn’t change the past and she might not have a future worth living if she didn’t win this fight.

***

Percy waited with his heart in his throat for Madam Bone’s to reveal herself. She had asked him to distract the Death Eaters but he didn’t know if he was capable of doing her any good. He hadn’t struggled in Defense but he hadn’t excelled the way some did either. Up against Death Eaters who weren’t unconscious or running away Percy didn’t believe his skills would hold up.

Still he waited, watching diligently behind his cover while trying not to be distracted as impossible as that was by the fight going on in the corner of his eye.

Percy had read an account once of the final duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. The man who told the tale said it was as horrifying as it was memorizing to see such masters of magic facing off against one another. At the time Percy tried imagining it. Watching Harriet and Voldemort duel he knew his imagination was proven woefully lacking. Harriet was years younger than Dumbledore at that time. She was much less mastered, much less experienced, and yet she was fighting with a level of skill Percy had a hard time comprehending. As You-Know-Who lunched spells at her she didn’t bother trying to guess at the proper counter or shield as Percy would have imagined. She sent debris and conjurings flying into the path of his spells to absorb the hit. Given that the Dark Lord’s spell repertoire was decades more vast than her own stopping the spells before they could reach her was brilliant. What she could not stop she dodged and ran from.

When the Dark Lord changed tactics sending off a spell which blasted from his wand like a storm of bees Harriet quickly adapted her own defense. Summoning a flock of birds she sent them to absorb You-Know-Who’s attack then summoned more to fly around him giving her the time to move back creating a greater distance between them which had been closing steadily.

The flock of birds was so thick that for a moment Percy could no longer see the cold blue flesh of the Dark Lord. Then, from between the wings and bodies came a glowing green light. A light that quickly pushed out consuming the birds revealing itself to be fire. Percy panicked as the Dark Lord whipped the living flame around his head by the tip of his wand before launching it off. In search of further fuel to feast upon the flames flew off towards Harriet. When she launched herself through the air to the fountain the flames did not follow. Finding her an unappetizing target they rushed ahead to the line of Death Eaters and hostages at the entrance to the floos, looking to consume them and grow its own strength.

Percy watched its progress, unable to see through the flames to what was happening beyond. He only just began to consider moving around the side of his cover when a body went flying over the flames. Some of the flames attempted to reach her as she traveled over head but the witch in flight was able to distract them. Much like Harriet she conjured a sacrifice to take the hit for her. A flood of spiders fell down from her wand giving the fire an easy meal as she turned her wand to the purpose of landing safely.

As she lowered herself to the ground Percy came to recognize the form. Bellatrix Lestrange. Feeling grateful that she had landed far from him Percy kept his eye on the infamous Death Eater while she fumed, glaring madly back the way she came. Lestrange managed three steps forward before a spell jutted past her. She turned on the offensive in the direction the spell had come from. Percy turned as well to see who had attacked her but the spell had not been fired with the intention of targeting Lestrange. It was a spell of Harriet’s gone wide in her fight against the Dark Lord.

Forcing himself to again turn away from the duel Percy put his focus back on Lestrange.

She was standing still, her wand limp at her side as she stared in awe at her Lord. The look on her face was devout, worshipful. Percy supposed it was not often even the Death Eaters were given the opportunity to see You-Know-Who in a proper duel and this indeed was a proper duel. While Harriet hadn’t manage to put the Dark Lord back a step, she had manage to keep herself safe for some minutes. First blood had yet to be drawn that Percy’d seen. Given the stories from the war, this was unheard of. While some had managed to face and escape the Dark Lord those confrontations were never long lasted without a cost being extracted from those who would stand against him.

With a series of slashing motions Harriet sent a dozen arc shaped spells off from her wand in the Dark Lord’s direction. They spun so quickly as they went that they gave the appearance of discs not clean lines. Percy had never seen a spell such as this in use but the Dark Lord showed no sign of being thrown. Deftly he formed a shield that deflected the attack. Percy was forced to duck lower to the ground as one of these spells ricocheted in his direction, dissipating only as it cut through the top of the chunk of ceiling providing him his cover.

As he rose out of his crouch Percy caught sight of the other spells Harriet had launched as they flew in all directions. Some found targets to cut through and with their work done faded while others continued on. With surprise Percy watched as the spells which approached the walls of the Atrium changed their direction. Turning from their course they heading back the way they’d come. Heading right back at Voldemort.

Percy watched as one of the spell traveled along its new path with an unaware Lestrange standing in its way. Time seemed to slow to his perception as the disk of light sailed through the air swooping low. Lestrange stood, still staring transfixed at her Lord. There was a part of Percy that felt he should call out. Another person was about to die before his eyes. All his life he had been taught that this was the time to take action… but he had also been taught that Death Eaters were monstrous. That they were evil. Should he risk his life for such a person?

Later Percy would debate whether it was indecision, self-preservation, a lack of time, or cowardice that kept him from saving Bellatrix Lestrange as the spell came in from behind, slicing through her head.

Unable to look away he watched the body fall to the floor. As transfixed as the woman herself had been by the fighting Percy stared at what had once been a living person but was suddenly not. As he tried to internalize it there was only one thing Percy kept coming back to. ‘She’ll never hurt anyone again.’

While people didn’t like to talk about it, use of the Unforgivables had been allowed by the Ministry during the last war and this was why. Dead, Bellatrix Lestrange could never harm another soul or recruit to the Dark Lord’s cause. As a dead woman she would never face justice through trial but she would have no chance in the future to escape from custody. As a dead woman she could do no more harm this night. None of her fellow Death Eaters could revive her to this fight. Just the same reason Percy had shattered Malfoys bones. So he couldn’t be brought back into things. But what about in the future? What about the times after his bones were healed?

These considerations were processing through Percy’s mind without his consciously keeping track of them to debate and question the conclusions he was reaching. All he would later recall was Bellatrix’s body laying there never to be seen breathing again and being satisfied with this. Later he would question the morals of what he had done that night and what feeling satisfied over a brutal death said about him. He would worry over the person he had shown himself to be when tested. But then Neville Longbottom and his grandmother would come asking him to share with them what he’d seen, asking him to share his memory of her last breaths. The relief in them, the closure it gave the pair for what had been done to Frank and Alice Longbottom would be what would help Percy to accept what had happened. To accept it and move forward.

In the moment however Percy was too lost to adrenaline to fall into a crisis of conscience.

In his peripheral Percy saw a change to the wall of cursed fire which had cut off his view of Madam Bones and the floos. From what remained of his cover he watched as she came into view, stood opposing three Death Eaters with the hostages laying some distance back. In the blink of an eye the stand off ended and the fight began. With quick reflexes Bones was able to cast first putting them on the defensive for a moment but that moment quickly ended as the three flipped the tables. With the triad coming at her all at once Bones was left to defend and go on defending, rarely getting the chance to launch an attack and when she did it was only because she managed to redirect their spells back against them while protecting herself. Word was that when Edgar Bones was killed it took a group of the Dark Lord’s inner circle to bring him down. Percy didn’t know how Madam Bones skills compared to her late brother’s but he realized three would likely be enough to outmatch her.

When she actually fell back a step, forfeiting ground Percy knew he had to do something. With the mantle of his family’s legacy of Gryffindor courage around his shoulders Percy aimed his wand.

He knew he would need a devastating surprise attack. This would have to turn the tides in one spell as he would be no match for any of these three in a proper dual. If he could pull one of them away and he wouldn’t be able to keep them occupied for any meaningful length of time. They would kill him quickly and return to Bones. Because that’s what these people did. They killed. They tortured. They ruined lives.

Percy thought of his mother grieving for the Uncles he never got to know.

He thought about Bellatrix Lestrange dead in an instant, never to hurt anyone again.

With his wand fixed firmly on Dolohov’s back Percy incanted a spell he never imaged would leave his lips. “Avada Kedavra.”

He watched feeling accomplished as the green curse charged out of his wand to connect with its unsuspecting target, killing him instantly. There was no drama, no fight, only death. Antonin Dolohov would leave no one else to grieve and Bones need only best two opponents.

Whether it was the surprise of loosing their cohort or fear for what that flash of green might mean for them, the other two Death Eaters became distracted. For a second they were not focused on Bones. That second was all she needed.

Before Dolohov’s body could hit the floor she was firing. She targeted Rookwood first. Seeing that was where her attention lay Percy aimed for the other. He fired off a stunner without thinking but the man managed to defend himself. Percy fired another stunner to the same effect but as long as he kept the man occupied until Bones could deal with him Percy was satisfied. However the Death Eater realized what was likely to happen and his ambition to remain alive sent him running.

Without thinking Percy gave chase. Leaving his shelter he darted for the floos with his wand aimed ahead. Neither he nor his target had much of a chance to do anything though. As Percy approached Bones had bound Rookwood and was turning on the one who was making a mad dash for the visitor’s entrance. A simple binding spell took him down followed by the summoning of his wand and further bindings.

With the Death Eaters taken care of Madam Bone’s turned to Percy. “Guard the way,” she ordered him as she moved to the hostages.

Feeling off footed by the sudden change in purpose Percy nodded and turned to face the Atrium proper. He could see no one coming. Harriet and the Dark Lord dominated the center of the room as their duel still continued and Bellatrix Lestrange still lay dead. Looking at her body Percy was reminded of another he had yet to acknowledge. Turning he looked down at Dolohov, the man he had killed, the body laying only some feet from Percy who could not help but to stare at it as he took in the result of what he had done until suddenly the corpse was being covered by a white sheet conjured by Madam Bones.

“I said keep guard Mister Weasley,” she ordered him. Her voice was commanding but not unkind.

Nodding shakily Percy turned back to the atrium.

The body besides him was not completely forgotten. There was an awareness of it eve as the scene before him took possession of Percy’s attention.

During the time of his distraction something had changed in the fight between the pair. The Dark Lord’s expression which had been confidently calm was set in a snarl. Where before their movements had seemed like a dance the grace of it had gone. The skill being put into the fight was less obvious. They were firing, deflecting, and shielding at a near constant rate. One spell after another after another they sent off, lighting up the room with their display. While Harriet was still moving it was not in the way she had been before. She only might manage to take a single step in any one direction before she had to deal with the next attack. Fear roared in Percy as he realized she was being boxed in. Under Voldemort’s constant stream of attacks she was unable to run, unable to move in the way that had allowed her to keep the fight going this long. He feared how much longer she would last.

Percy opened his mouth to call for Madam Bones, to see what aid they could give to Harriet when the duel took an abrupt turn.

First blood was drawn.

As one of Harriet’s spells had approached the Dark Lord he moved to deflect it, only for the spell to splinter off from one bolt into a hundred. Ninety-nine of these he was able to stop. One he could not. One slipped past his defenses. One reached his wand hand to cut deeply through the back of it. First blood went to Harriet.

Enraged the Dark Lord gave a wordless bellow as he readied a ghastly looking spell to launch in retaliation.

Seeing an opportunity Harriet sent the simplest of spells at her opponent. One she learned in her second year.

It was only an Expelliarmus. It was a simple disarming spell which allowed a fifteen year old year to defeat one of the most feared wizards of the century.

With the Dark Lord’s spell building he was unable to shield from the attack. He should have been able to dodge but he did not. Instead he held his ground. Perhaps it was arrogance. Perhaps it was something else. Scholars would argue the answer for years while Percy would only know what he saw, and what he saw was Harriet’s disarming spell landing on the Dark Lord.

With the magic working to pull his wand from his hand the Dark Lord let out a roar as his wounded hand strained. The cut left him too weak to hold onto his wand under this force. With wide disbelieving eyes the Dark Lord watched as his wand flew from his hand. As it left him the spell he had been preparing was released, firing not ahead at Harriet but back on himself. It was too close a distance for a monster of that size to escape. The spell no sooner left the wand then it connected with the Dark Lord.

The effect was horrifying.

From the inside out the Dark Lord was burned. He stalked forward, reaching out for Harriet even as his body became nothing more than black cinders connected together by smoldering lines of red. With hissed words he swore, “Death will not keep me. I will return and when I do…” He never finished. Those were his dying words. For as he took one final step the force of his bare foot impacting the ground caused it to crumble to ash with the effect cascading up his leg. With no limb to support him the Dark Lord fell forward. When his body connected with the ground it broke apart becoming nothing but ash.

No mocking laughter filled the air.

No flash of light revealed the sight to be an illusion.

On the 19th of April, 1996, right before Percy’s eyes Lord Voldemort came to his end.

Chapter Text

A sheltered point in the storm. That’s what Harriet looked like to Percy. All around her the Atrium was in a tizzy under Madam Bones’ instruction. Everything was movement and action except for the space around Harriet. An unofficial perimeter had been established around her and the sight of the Dark Lord’s demise that no one dared to cross. Percy assumed at first it was the remains which blew with the slightest stirring which held people back from approaching but as time passed he realized it was Harriet everyone was leery of intruding on.

People were looking at her like they did Dumbledore - respect, awe, intimidation - only with a measure of added fear Percy had never seen directed at the Headmaster. He understood their fear even if he didn’t feel it himself. What Harriet had done… Voldemort was a threat the likes of which few dared to stand against. To take down such a monster made Harriet a formidable figure but when he looked at her Percy still just saw a girl and that girl had been through an awful lot to be left on her own. Unfortunately he was not free to go offer her the support she deserved. There was simply too much to be done and not enough trusted hands to see to it. Of everyone who had been present after the defeat of the Dark Lord Percy was one of the few ministerial servants who had proven to be himself and loyal to opposing the dark.

Unfortunately for Madam Bones she had not been able to see the Dark Lord’s demise for herself. She had still been focused on Scrimgeour’s bindings at the time. Percy had to be the one to call her over to explain what had happened. Despite the shock of the news she was quick to get back to business while seeing to it everyone else did as well. Rather than returning to Scrimgeour she headed for the visitors entrance to shut it down. No one in. No one out. That was her first declaration as the acting authority of the Ministry

“None of them are getting away tonight,” she said with conviction.

“The Minister’s floo is still active ma’am,” Percy informed her.

Her initial response was only to frown as she returned to Scrimgeour but as she knelt to return to her previous efforts she declared, “It can’t be helped. We can only be grateful the floo keeps an official record of use. Should any escape that way we’ll at least have a lead to begin hunting them down.”

Once Scrimgeour was free, Miss Skeeter expected she would be next. When she wasn’t, she tried making demands which were denied and further she was informed that she and any others who did not have Madam Bone’s trust would not be released until the Ministry was properly secured. Rita had been indignant but Bones was firm. Of the four remaining hostages on their side of the Atrium only Hepworth was freed. Percy missed what Bones and Scrimgeour had done to confirm his identity and worth as he was keeping guard but they felt assured that he was an ally. After reviving him they put his wand back in his hand and left the Department Head to see to his own wounds.

Together Bones and Scrimgeour advanced into the atrium with their wands at the ready leaving Percy and Hepworth to watch over the hostages.

With a jerk Harriet turned her wand on the pair. Blinking she let her aim drop to the floor. “Sorry,” she apologized softly, her voice barely carried over the noise of the ruined fountain.

Ignoring the mistake and subsequent apology Bones called out, “Is he still here?”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Harriet asked.

“The Dark Lord. Is he still here?”

Harriet just looked completely confused.

Gently Madam Bones persisted. “Earlier you could see through his illusions. Is he still here?”

“… No ma’am,” Harriet said without doubt.

Both Bones and Scrimgeour tensed.

In a gruff voice Scrimgeour asked, “Where did he go?”

Harriet looked confused again. It took her a bit to understand but once she did she pointed down at the ashes in answer.

“That was him,” Bones asked, disbelieving and hopeful both. “…He’s…”

“Dead,” Harriet agreed sounding numb. “Yes… he’s dead.”

She took a deep breath before continuing to offer what information she had.

“He isn’t the only one. Most everyone in this room besides the three of use are dead, but there are a few just unconscious there, there, and there,” Harriet explained, pointing the aurors in the direction of the living. She went silent after as she concentrated on something. It looked to Percy almost like she was trying very hard to listen. Without bringing her attention back to the room around her she declared, “Many of Death Eaters are scattered but twenty-five of them have regrouped with the bulk of the hostages and their wounded down the hall.”

Bones and Scrimgeour shared a look.

“Did anyone manage to escape to the Minister’s floo,” Bones asked.

Still focused on something only she was aware of Harriet answered, “Not that I noticed but I was focused on… other things.” Again she gestured to the ash.

“What are the Death Eater’s doing?”

“Nothing,” Harriet answered before correcting that. “Talking. Milling about. Hiding. Seeing to the wounded.”

“And you know this how,” Scrimgeour asked.

“Inner eye. I may need glasses but a Seer’s sight is better than 20/20,” Harriet answered tapping her head. It was reassuring to Percy to hear the return of a hint of her typical cheek even if her voice was still mostly numb.

“Will you warn us if anything changes,” Madam Bone’s requested.

Still concentrating, apparently on Seeing with her inner eye, Harriet gave a nod.

Accepting this the pair made their way in the direction of the unconscious three Harriet had pointed them towards. With quick efficiency Bones got to work with Scrimgeour watching her back as she did. Sweeping the room as they went they moved from one body to the next, checking that they were indeed dead. When Harriet’s assertion proved correct a sheet would be conjured to wrap them in before levitating the bundle over to join Dolohov’s off to Percy’s side. While the largest pieces from the wall, ceiling, and fountain to have fallen were left in place Bones cleared the smaller bits from the floor almost absently as they went. They were sent to gather, forming a new wall around the base of the fountain which forced the water to remained contained to one spot as it waited to cycle down the drain.

It was only later that he learned the identities of those who had passed, both Death Eater and not. Most of the names belonged to strangers but one affected Percy deeply, and that was Lucius Malfoy. Lucius who thanks to Percy had been left unable to get away had become a casualty of Harriet and the Dark Lord’s duel, crushed by a falling chunk of ceiling. But this awareness would only come later. For the moment Lucius was far from Percy’s mind.

“Incoming,” Harriet called out into the silence of the room as yet another body was moved over to join the pile besides Percy.

With Harriet’s warning having gotten their attention Bones and Scrimgeour abandoned their work to rush to her side. Before they could reach her and devise a plan, Harriet was acting. From her wand she sent a tiny red ball of spell light shooting down the corridor.

Bone’s looked decidedly displeased with Harriet taking the initiative to act on her own rather than waiting to be instructed by her elders but she didn’t waste time on a reprimand. “How many?”

“19,” Harriet declared before seeming to cast another spell to no visible effect.

“Hostages,” Bones asked as she stopped at Harriet’s side with Scrimgeour flanking.

“None. They left them behind with the wounded to be guarded… Down to seven now. If we flood the hall we should be able to pick them off.” Harriet informed them while seeming to repeat the same spell she had last but again to no effect Percy could perceive.

Bones and Scrimgeour shared a look.

“Very well,” Bones declared. “On your signal.”

Harriet nodded her understanding.

Percy was able to count to only five before a stunner went flying from Harriet’s wand. Quick to react Bones and Scrimgeour followed her in flooding the corridor in glowing red stunners only stopping when Harriet did.

“All clear?”

“Only the guards and the stragglers left.” Harriet’s attention went distant again. “Someone’s making for the elevator.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us which floor they’re heading for,” Scrimgeour asked with a sarcastic edge.

Despite the attitude Harriet answered, “They’ve hit every other button.”

Bones looked concerned. “There’s a log of every stop the elevator makes. They must know this and are trying to throw us off.” She turned back to Percy to ask. “Are you certain there’s only the one way out?”

“They said only the Minister’s floo would be left active of those in the offices.”

“Which isn’t the same thing,” Scrimgeour added grimly. “Other options than the floo network might still be available, and it could always be someone didn’t do the job right.”

Frowning Bones agreed.

“One of the guards is picking up a hostage to use as a shield,” Harriet informed them. “… He’s coming down the hall.”

“Let him come,” Bone’s instructed Harriet softly. Wordlessly she signaled to Scrimgeour her plan. She pointed first to herself and one side of the exit and then to Scrimgeour and the other side before she vanished from sight. A second later Scrimgeour was gone as well.

Moving back Harriet headed towards the fountain where there was a chunk of gold statuary big enough for her to hide from sight of the incoming Death Eater. With her back to it she was left facing Percy.

Mouthing at him she asked, “Are you okay?”

Percy didn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it, possibly ever.

“You,” he mouthed back in place of answering.

Rather than responding Harriet’s eyes went unfocused as her attention became distant.

With Bone’s providing the distraction Scrimgeour needed to get besides the Death Eater to cast an imperius the situation was taken care of in short order. From there things progressed with what Percy was informed to be unprecedented smoothness.

Using Harriet to give them the lay out of the room and the people within, the captured Death Eater was made to call the all clear, telling his fellows that the Dark Lord wished all able bodied to report to the Atrium and to leave the hostages behind. Eager to obey their Lord and unsuspecting that their own tactics might be used against them the Death Eaters walked right into a trap and were quickly subdued. With the bulk of the their number having been secured and Harriet’s Sight to guide Bones and Scrimgeour the entire level was swept and locked tight. Once the flagrant Dark supporters were contained attentions turned on the hostages who were brought to the Atrium to be checked over and decided what to do with them. Only a few passed inspection from both Harriet and Bones to be set free while the rest were unbound to be rebound per Ministry protocol. Some, like Rita, were promised they would be released when back up had arrived. Others, like Fudge, were told they were to be detained until the extent of their innocence and guilt could be ascertained.

It was then time for the rest of the Ministry to be cleared, one floor at a time with Harriet coming along lending the aid of her inner eye. In the meantime Percy was set the task of producing official summons, calling in the members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for a vague but urgent matter with instructions directing them to arrive through the muggle visitors entrance as floos had been ‘damaged.’

When the search party returned they not only brought with them a small collection of Death Eaters but also more hostages consisting of a small collection of Ministry employees and visitors who had been stored on one of the lower levels as they were declared ‘unwelcome guests.’ With their numbers bolstered by these extra hands most of the other gathered hostages were released though their wands were withheld. A select handful were however were not released and instead journeyed down to the Aurors’ office for holding. Among this number was a barely conscious Madam Umbridge and a few witches and wizards who had been witnessed trying to bargain with their captors or declared their loyalty to the Dark cause. The Minster who led the procession and was escorted by Bones herself declared vehemently that he had been under the Imperius. Percy didn’t think it was a coincidence that all the press had been released previously to this and armed with a camera and quills in time to capture the moment as the detainees were led off for processing.

Harriet stood to the side while all of this was happening, being idle as there was nothing more for her to do. Madam Bone’s asked her to still keep a look out with her Sight but said she should rest while leaving the rest of what needed doing to them. With nothing more expected of her Harriet had wondered around the atrium but everywhere she went she was either in the way or bothered with questions. Percy had been concerned but distracted from going to her. He’d been double checking with Bones who and how she wanted people contacted to come in when a slight stirring built in the room drawing their attention around and then on to Harriet who was crossing the atrium, carelessly walking through the Dark Lord’s remains which littered the floor.

She went on until she slowed and came to a stop, standing before something which she stared down at intently. Something Percy could not identify. With slow measured movements she crouched down to collect that something from the floor before rising again. As she stood it became clear to many that what had so captured Harriet’s attention was a wand.

Miss Skeeter quietly gasped in a breath before breathing out, “The Dark Lord’s wand.”

Promptly she began swatting at the weary Photographer besides her, whispering to him commands that he take the picture.

Wincing he told her harshly, “Stop hitting me.” Though he did begrudgingly lift his camera to get the shot.

Percy glared at the two as he admonished, “Do show some respect.”

Skeeter rolled her eyes at him but was less cavalier with Scrimgeour who looked down on her sternly while blindly pushing the camera down from the ready.

“Careful Skeeter,” the Head Auror warned.

In return Rita smiled at him apologetically while trying to project innocence.

Once Harriet had the wand she didn’t return to the action that busied the perimeter of the atrium. She found her way to the fountain and sat herself down on the edge. For a time she just stared at the wand but at some point while Percy wasn’t looking at her Harriet slid down the wall to sit on the floor with her back against it, the wand out of sight. Once she was there that was where she remained, occasionally fidgeting or changing positions, some times she kept her eyes shut and other times when he checked on her he found she was looking up at the happenings going on a distance from her as everyone else gave her a respectful berth. Respectful wasn’t what she needed though. She was just a kid. What she needed was looking after. Finally having a break in his work Percy was determined to give her just that.

Heading for Harriet he told himself that it was nothing as he defied the standard which had been set, crossing the parameter all the others dared not to cross.

He was half way there when a familiar voice called out to him. Reflexively he turned towards the source as it had been ingrained in him to respond since he was a small child.

“Percy,” his father called again with visceral relief.

He was standing just inside the line of security that had been set up by the floos to screen all who entered. He was looking frazzled with his clothes and hair out of sorts but what most caught Percy’s attention were the tear tracks on his face. His Father only had eyes for Percy but a flash of white beard and obnoxiously colored robes drew Percy’s attention away to the figure behind him who was speaking with Madam Bones while Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Moody stood besides them.

Dumbledore.

Percy could no more help the frown that took his face at the sight of the man than he could help responding to his father’s voice. Feeling it, he tried to think if he should really be upset. There was a lingering phantom of disapproval for his former Headmaster left over from what he’d been feeling over the last year, but surely there was no reason for it? It had been proven that all along the Ministry had been in the wrong and Harriet right about the Dark Lord’s return yet somehow Percy still wasn’t pleased with Dumbledore. In fact he was angry with him. Maybe resentful too?

‘It’s because he didn’t protect Harriet. He didn’t protect us,’ Percy realized as the anger churned. Despite all his ability and power and positions Dumbledore hadn’t protected them from the threat. There was certainly more he could have done. Already a list was forming in Percy’s mind as it tracked back, recalling what the Dark Lord had said about everyone being content to allow Harriet to be spirited away after the last time he was defeated.

Percy had no further time to consider his feelings or Dumbledore’s failings as heedless of the watching crowed and everything else his father rushed forward to pull Percy in for a hug. For a moment he rather wished his father wasn’t there holding him. Harriet needed someone just then and… after everything he’d been through Percy wasn’t sure he could handle making amends with his father. He didn’t feel up to this meeting just yet.

“Are you alright,” Arthur demanded of his son, quickly pulling back to look him over and pat him down for injures. His concern cracked the barrier which Percy had been keeping the trauma of the night behind. He tried to speak but he could only breathe. As he inhaled his breathing quivered. To his embarrassment Percy felt tears pushing forward in his eyes.

Seeing this his father tried to pull him in for another hug but Percy moved out of reach to focus on composing himself. He was well aware of the eyes on them and he would not break down so publicly. He would save it for later. He’d saved plenty of tears over his life for the privacy of crying himself to sleep. He was determined he would do the same then. For the time being he would stay composed and later he could allow himself to break. He knew from experience that to succeed he just needed to stay busy. Focus on the part he had to play and not the emotions he did not wish to indulge.

“What are you doing here,” he asked his father looking to make conversation that was far away from having to consider just how far from alright he was.

“Amelia sent word to Albus and we came straight away.” Which meant his father had been with Dumbledore before word was sent, something Percy found himself resenting without consideration as to why. “But never mind that. What happened?”

Percy really hated to say it but he had to. “I’m afraid the Ministry isn’t ready to make an official statement.”

“What,” his father asked, incredulous with anger just on its heels.

Percy reached out to squeeze his father’s arm. Softly he explained, “We’re not supposed to talk about it. You’ll be debriefed when you allowed to know.”

“Now see here,” his father told him. “I don’t care about any secrecy rubbish. Your mother and I were sitting by the fire, having a cuppa when the clock goes off telling us you’re in mortal danger. We didn’t know where you were, what was happening. We tried your flat but found it empty. Couldn’t get into the Ministry. Couldn’t reach anyone inside. Not even patroni could get through. We’ve spent hours worrying, taking years off our lives thinking something disastrous had happened with our only comfort being that the clock had stopped ringing, but it said you were at work and we couldn’t get in.” His father could barely finish his rant as his voice was nearly breaking on every other word.

Having failed in his resolve tears ran down Percy’s cheeks as he pulled Arthur in for a crushing embrace. His father gave a single sob as he clung back in a crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispered. He hadn’t even thought of the clock. “I’m sorry.”

For a time father and son held each other, giving apologies and assurances and other whispered sentiments between them until Arthur suddenly stiffened, his eyes focusing on something over Percy’s shoulder.

In a tight voice he asked, “Son, what is Harriet doing here?”

“You mean you haven’t been told yet Arthur? And with your son the hero!” exclaimed Rita Skeeter as she came to join them.

Percy found his upper lip twitching up to bare his teeth as he turned to face her. With the Dark Lord and many others dead or proven innocent Rita Skeeter was quickly moving to fill the gap and see to it she was promoted to hold the prize of his least favorite person. Once she heard he was the only one besides Harriet to witness the Dark Lord’s death she started banding words like hero about and seeking him out, trying to make nice to get quotes and an interview out of him.

In borrowed robes Skeeter approached them, a quill and parchment at the ready. The robes were large and ill fitting with the sleeves constantly sliding down to engulf her hand which clutched at the quill. Had she been in possession of her own wand said quill would no doubt be enchanted to take dictation all on its own and the robes transfigured into something more flattering. But her wand was still not yet returned to Miss Skeeter who smiled with what was probably meant to be charm at his father. “And here I was hoping to see what you had to say for the morning addition. Oh well. I’m sure it can wait.” Her attention slid beyond them. With a rare showing of respect -however genuine it may be- she greeted, “Madam Bones.” And with slightly less respect, “Head Master Dumbledore.”

Father and son turned having been oblivious to anyone approaching them let along Madam Bones joined by Dumbledore and his squad of pet Aurors just behind. Rita hadn’t missed it though. She had in fact anticipated that they would be heading over based on the looks they sent the Weasleys as well as Harriet. This is precisely the reason why she had made her way over, timing things to be just ahead of them. That and genuinely wanting a quote from Author and hopefully a few from his stubborn son as well.

Lamenting she asked herself why Gryffindors had to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t they just take advantage of good business like any sensible person? She was biting at the bit to paint Percy Weasley as a secondary yet important hero in this story yet all the boy would give her were glares while declining to comment through gritted teeth. She could only hope the older lions would not be so obstinate.

Attention on Dumbledore she released the first of her many planned inquiries. Unlike Arthur, Dumbledore had remained behind to undoubtedly get a quick debriefing from Madam Bones so she unfortunately couldn’t take him by surprise but she’d take what she could get. “Headmaster what are your feelings about what happened here tonight? Relief? Guilt perhaps?”

Rita could see that rather than getting her quote she was hoping for, she was about to be politely dismissed, but she would not have it! With a bit of venom lacing her tone she plowed ahead.

“What words do you have for the public now that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has been vanquished for a second time? Do you believe this will be the last we see of him or should we be concerned for the day when he will return from the dead again as he threatened?”

Arthur looked between Rita and Percy, then Dumbledore and Harriet, and back to his son again by the time Rita finished. He appeared to be seeking confirmation from a trusted source as to what was being presented to him. However it was Bones not the grim faced Percy who confirmed, “It’s true Arthur.”

Eagerly Rita wrote down the reactions of the group. If she was only getting scraps then she’d snatch up every morsel. From the young Tonks she saw disbelief, from Kingsley relief, and Arthur worry over what exactly had happened and how his son and Harriet had been involved.

While Bones was informing a demanding Arthur that he’d get his answers in private Dumbledore broke his silence. Rita would have boiled her toes for just one printable line from him but all she got was a quiet, “Excuse me.”

She could have screamed. She very nearly gave into the impulse as she glared at the heinous pattern of the robes that covered Dumbledore’s back as he departed for Harriet.

Pulling Rita’s attention back around, Bones addressed her clippedly, “Miss Skeeter.”

Smiling winningly and pitching her voice slightly up Rita inquired, “Yes Amelia.”

Bones frowned at the uninvited familiarity but tough luck. As far as Rita was concerned this would be the new normal and Bones would just have to learn to acclimatize to it and accept that.

Looking at her coldly Bones ordered, “Back to your spot.”

Pouting Rita gave a huff. “Oh very well Amelia but only as you're the one asking,” she said playfully, like they were old friends, which of course they weren’t but projecting an idea until it was accepted was a staple of Rita’s success and she intended to use it here to get close to those who had played any major role in this nights events.

With a smile and a wave she turned, heading back to her spot against the wall as instructed. It was a small area which had been set aside for all the associates of the press who had been brought there by the Dark Lord. The Ministry knew it would need to break the story of what had happened but were not willing to let anyone not already there in from the papers. That meant those who were present had the responsibility. In service to this they were given some privileges but they were limited. Extremely irritatingly limited as far as Rita was concerned. One of those limits was that they were supposed to stay to their designated ‘press box’ unless told otherwise.

As Rita made her way she kept a watch on Albus Dumbledore, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald approaching Harriet Potter, his prodigy who only this night had vanquished her own Dark Lord. Two great heroes. The old guiding light and the new beacon of hope for all wizarding kind.

‘The articles will practically write themselves with raw material like this,’ Rita thought as she walked, trying not to look like the disobedient child sent to their room. Of course she knew it would take her special touch to polish the facts up for their best viewing but even if it took every minute until the presses needed to run she’d stay diligent, gathering every scrap and arranging them to perfect display, picking just the right angles and monikers and illustrations to see this done right. By the time she was through Harriet Potter would be posed as the next great leader the wizarding world needed.

The only thing Rita still truly needed to hit that note was the right picture. They had some prize winning shots if they developed correctly. There were more impactful moments captured on Bozo’s camera then had probably been printed in the entire life of the Prophet but Rita felt none of them would best serve her aims for the front page.

***

Dumbledore was not thinking about Rita’s machinations. Dealing with the press and Miss Skeeter’s poison quill could come later. At that moment what concerned him most was getting answers and assessing what exactly had happened between Harriet and Tom this night.

Keeping his pace unhurried his made his way to stand in front of the girl. Despite it having reportedly been over two hours since the battle had come to an end there were still marks of it on the girl with dust and debris spattering her hair, skin, and clothes which had seen far better days littered as they were with little rips and the singed hem of her robes. It hurt his heart to see a student in uniform barring evidence of such a fight.

Taking in Harriet’s tense face he felt badly for disturbing what peace she had, but needs must.

“Harriet,” he called softly in the hope of getting her attention without startling her. He expected she would be on edge for some time after her trying ordeal.

When his call garnered no response he tried again.

“Miss Potter.”

Blinking open her eyes Harriet first let the world come into focus before scanning up to see who she was dealing with.

He smiled down at her kindly. “Hello my dear.”

A tear rolled down from Harriet’s eye. One of many to come Dumbledore was certain.

“I hear you had a most unexpected evening.”

“…I killed him,” Harriet admitted, her voice chocked and broken, made small by her shame. It was only for a breath that she could hold his eye before letting her head roll forward allowing her stare to study the pattern of his robes instead.

Dumbledore’s already aching heart only worsened in his grief for this child. He was very much worried about the impact this night would have on the young Gryffindor and what the repercussions going forward would be. To kill dealt injury to the soul. This is why he insisted the Order operate by other means when confronting Voldemort’s followers.

Casting a spell to aid his old knees, Dumbledore knelt down to crouch at Harriet’s level. With how much she’d grown in the last year she was taller than him but in his mind Dumbledore still saw her as the smallest of the first years, full of innocence and enthusiasm. That innocence was tarnished now, but not completely lost he hoped.

In an offering of support he reached out a hand he placed it on her shoulder.

The flash of a camera went off and Harriet startled drawing her wand. She was only stopped from taking aim by Dumbledore’s free hand.

Standing off to the side was none other than Miss Skeeter smiling at them as though it was unthinkable that she and her actions should not be welcomed by them.

“Just a picture for the morning edition dear,” Rita explained as she approached on slippered feet. “Now can I get you anything? Tea perhaps? A proper chair?”

“Perhaps some care,” Tonks with a head of brilliant scarlet red hair said having stalked up to the reporter. Moody was just behind her. He didn’t say anything to Rita but he did take her camera, getting himself a fierce glare in return which didn’t impress him at all.

“Care?” Rita sneered as she turned her glare on Tonks. “Do you think I don’t? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the last four days?”

Taken aback by the woman’s reaction Tonk’s hair lost some of its saturation. “I-”

“No, no you have not,” Rita interrupted her tone going a touch shrill. Without the burden of the camera she was free to gesticulate along with what she was saying. “I was kidnapped from my bedroom in the middle of the night. Kept, tortured, and interrogated in Malfoy manor for days surrounded by other prisoners who had been there for months with no one the wiser! Some since last June! And the stories they had to tell of what I should expect! Not that the first day didn’t give me idea enough! I’ve suffered the cruciatus curse no less than three times now. Three and undoubtedly I would have become even more familiar with it had Harriet not saved us all. So don’t you speak of to me of care! I’m doing my job. You do yours as you lot should have done in the first place,” she concluded having finished on a bellow, her words echoing around the now otherwise silent room.

Reaching out to Moody she yanked the camera back from him and surprising many he let her have it. As Rita was among those expecting him try and deny her she’d pulled with a great deal of force. Having been met with no resistance she went stumbling back several steps before catching herself. As she huffed for breath and worked to find composure she went back to staring down Tonk’s who’s hair had taken on an extremely pale pink shade.

“Is John coming?” The question pulled Skeeter’s attention along with everyone else’s away to Harriet who had done the asking.

Staring Rita asked, “What?”

“Have you heard if John’s coming,” Harriet clarified.

Dumbledore frowned slightly while a strained, slightly manic smile took Rita’s face as she happily provided the answer the girl was looking for. Standing taller from having the ‘inside scoop’ as it were, she explained, “Word was sent out to all aurors and trainees. He’ll have been among them.”

Harriet nodded at the news.

“Anything I can get you dear,” Rita asked again. “Tea? A chair?”

After a moment of thought Harriet answered, “Tea would be nice.”

Rita looked triumphant. “Right away dear,” she said turning on heel with purpose.

Watching her go with wary eyes Harriet asked, “What is she after?”

“I imagine to strengthen your relationship for what protection and opportunity it may provide,” Dumbledore explained. He turned away from where Skeeter was talking to Scrimgeour, looking imperious as she gestured in Harriet’s direction. “You will now be in high demand my dear. With the press most of all.”

Harriet scowled unhappy. Dumbledore took the expression in with a fond twinkle in his eyes. He knew that she had never wanted the spot light. Unlike himself at that age the girl had no desire for power. There were far worse hands the glory and influence of a Dark Lord’s defeat could have come to.

A bit unsteadily Harriet leveraged herself up from the floor to sit on the edge of the fountain. Once settled she dropped her head into her hands, her elbows resting on her knees.

“My dear,” Dumbledore prompted, calling for her attention. While he was understanding of her fatigue both emotional and physical, the night was only so long and there was much to see to. “How did you come to be here? How did they retrieve you from Hogwarts?”

Taking in a very deep breath Harriet held it before letting it out in a rush. Rubbing her face into her shoulder to whip away what tears still clung to her cheeks she explained, “They didn’t have to… It seems liked forever ago, but a letter came from the Ministry. It said I had been summoned and was to come with Umbridge. She showed up only just after it and brought me here.”

Concerned that Harriet would simply leave and the others allowed her to Dumbledore asked, “Why didn’t you send word of you’re coming?”

Harriet sighed. Looking displeased with herself she rolled her eyes. “I’d been doing tea readings for everyone just before the letter came and they all said the same. A change of fortune for the good.”

She looked off at a spot not far from them, the spot where Dumbledore presumed Tom had expired given Amelia’s recounting.

Hollowly Harriet finished, “I guess it was right in the end.”

Dumbledore stared at the spot himself as he considered this. He’d once been rather ignorant to the subject of divination but he had corrected that after hearing the prophecy regarding Harriet and Tom. For all the readings to be the same in those so far removed from the confrontation a positive outcome would have to have been practically assured. A suspicion was blooming in his mind over events, one that had been planted upon learning that it was Tom’s own spell turning back on him which led to his death. Dumbledore felt from the beginning that this was reason for concern. Having become confident in his suspicion he looked around the destruction of the room with a skeptical eye before focusing back on the child in front of him. “Harriet, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

Despite being unhappy at the prospected of recounting it all Harriet still nodded her consent before starting in on the tale. Along the way Miss Skeeter arrived with a cup of tea and some biscuits. She tried to linger to listen to the story herself and ask questions but after a look from Dumbledore Tonks led her off. Harriet did not try to touch the tea or the biscuits having enough sense not to take the risk that it might be have been interfered with in some way. Going without left her voice sore by the time she finished her recounting of the events through her day until the moment of his arrival.

Remaining silent Dumbledore organized what she had told him combining it with Amelia’s accounting and using his own intellect to try and imagine what might fill in the remaining gaps. Harriet accommodatingly left him to it for some time before softly calling him back. “Headmaster?”

Once she had his attention she tilted her head, redirecting it in the direction of Kingsley who was quickly approaching.

“Dumbledore.”

“Yes Kingsley.”

“I thought you should know, they gotten the Unspeakables to finished a cursory evaluation of their department.”

“And?”

“There are a number of relics and research missing or destroyed. They won’t know which is which until they’ve had the time to comb through the damage and puzzle it out.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Was anything found on the Death Eaters?”

“Nothing they didn’t bring with them or was taken from the hostages.”

This news only deepened Dumbledore’s frown.

“Harriet,” a distressed voice called out from across the Atrium.

Just past security young Mister Potter was rushing over.

Alister moved to block his path, holding John back from proceeding.

The boy struggled against Alister while reminding him fiercely, “I’m family.”
“Let him through Moody,” Amelia ordered.

Knowing Alister’s prosthetic eye would be looking through the back of his head to see Dumbledore’s reaction, he gave a reticent nod.

As he let the boy go Alister received a glare from him before John rushed on towards Harriet who was already out of her seat and her arms open in anticipation. When he was in reach she wasted no time in launching herself at her cousin. While she curled in to bury herself in his chest John wrapped his arms around her protectively. He maneuvering them so his back would block the bulk of the spectators from viewing it as Harriet broke down into sobs.

“It’s alright. It’s all going to be alright. You did what needed to be done and its over now. It’s done,” John promised her in the softest and kindest of tones while his face contorted showing his pain at her distress. He continued on with whispered assurances but Harriet only continued crying, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. John held and comforted her patiently until it became evident that Harriet’s emotional release was running her down rather than gradually tapering off.

Looking up to the ring of Ministry workers who were surrounding the room young Mister Potter called out in a commanding tone that demanded compliance, “A healer is required to check on Miss Potter.”

Across the room one of the healers who had been called in made rushed over while Harriet tried to force out a denial.

“Hush,” Mister Potter returned.

Moving to intercept the healer, Dumbledore took her emergency kit. “I will see to Miss Potter,” he assured.

The healer looked uncertain but John’s, “Thank you Headmaster,” was enough to see her nodding before retreating back from whence she came.

Bringing the kit to the fountain, Dumbledore spelled it to stay in place to avoid any mishaps with it falling in the water before looking within in search of a calming draught.

In the meantime Mister Potter guided Harriet over so they might take a seat on the fountain besides the kit while Moody, Tonks, and Shacklebolt moved from the respectful distance they’d been keeping to help provide a small measure of privacy by blocking the room’s view of them.

Dumbledore checked the calming draught over and finding everything in order was prepared to give it to Harriet but as he held out the vial it was Mister Potter who took it. John inspected the potion for himself before taking a sip for extra measure. Only after confirming that it had the desired effect and no immediate adverse reaction did he crouch down before her and present the potion to his cousin. With gentle cajoling he got Harriet to drink in smalls sips with breaks in-between so as to allow a slow decline into calm rather than an abrupt jarring impact. When the vial was empty John placed it on the fountain besides them as he rose return to holding Harriet.

Seeing the curious expression on Dumbledore’s face, Mister Potter explained, “She’s the only family I have. I’ve spent the last year doing everything I could to be in a position to help her. Learning how to check potions and serving as a tester is the least of it.”

Dumbledore felt his mind prickling with curiosity and possibilities.

“I had heard about your application to be an auror,” Dumbledore broached. “Am I correct that in large part this was motivated by your desire to protect Harriet?”

John nodded as he continued to stroke at Harriet’s head. “Applied and was accepted.”

The young man looked down at his cousin. Relieved by his findings he looked back up to declare, “She’s asleep.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

Looking past him, and through the spaces left by their guard, John took in the people milling about. A frown took his face. In a lamenting voice he spoke while still taking in the outsiders. “They may be keeping things contained for now, but the Ministry can’t keep this a secret forever. Soon enough it will be all over the wizarding world. Everyone will probably know what happened by breakfast.”

With his mind was miles away the boy’s arm squeezed around Harriet. Curious to see where his thoughts would lead him Dumbledore waited patiently until Mister Potter looked to him, a determined set to his face.

“She can’t go back to Hogwarts. Not tonight. Not this year. You need to get her somewhere safe before word beaks and keep her there. I’ve read about what happened the last time after Voldemort fell. I know what about Neville’s parents. That can’t be her. She can’t have gone through everything just for it to end in tragedy. Wherever you had her over the summer, or wherever else you know where she can have some space to recover, safe and out of sight, that’s where she needs to be. She needs to be gone until the public has settled and the Ministry’s had the time to account for every last one of the Dark Lord’s supporters.”

“You would not be able to go with her,” Dumbledore said studying young John to see how he would react to this stipulation.

All this statement brought was a frown before John nodded. “Just so long as I know she’s taken care of. That’s all that matters. Besides, I have a feeling I’m going to be kept busy with work,” John said looking around at the destruction around the room.

Dumbledore felt his esteem for this young man rising.

“Is everything going well here,” Amelia asked from a respectful distance, waiting until she had their attention to continue her approach. She was flanked on either side by some of the most capable aurors on the force. Moody and Shacklebolt moved to the side to allow them to progress.

Beseechingly John informed Amelia, “She’s exhausted. She needs to be getting somewhere safe and quite to rest.”

“We have offices we can take her too, but I think you have something else in mind. Unfortunately we can’t let her go just yet. Among other things, we need to get her statement. The only reason we put it off this long was because there was too much that needed to be seen to first.”

Dumbledore could see how displeased John was with this news. He consoled him, “It can’t be helped my boy. Needs must.”

He wished they could whisk Harriet away and he’d deal with the Ministry on his own the way he did that night all those years ago when Harriet had last defeated Tom. Sadly it was not an option. Harriet was no longer an infant and Dumbledore had been stripped of the authority which allowed him to get away with circumventing the Ministry’s protocol and requests. At this time as he was no longer Hogwarts’ Headmaster and as such did not even have the Authority to take Harriet from the Ministry when her part was finished. He was only there by Amelia’s good graces and she would not abide by any maneuvering on his part.

When hours later business was concluded the Ministry’s intention was to deliver Harriet by Auror escort back to Hogwarts, but young John would hear none of that. He said she should be taken home where it would be up to her guardians to decide if she returned to school. He further recommended that Aurors already aware of the address and familiar with her family go as her relatives were muggle and skittish of magic.

Despite some protests being voiced by others Bones agreed.

“Why have them send me to the Dursleys’,” Harriet grumbled groggily as she held on to her cousin, dragging out their goodbye hug as John would have to stay behind to work under his mentor who was not coming with.

“Because they barely tolerate having you there in the summer. Waking them up in the middle of the night to tell them you're coming back with a possible threat after you? They’ll demand you are taken somewhere else. The others can report back to the Ministry that you were delivered home per orders and once your relatives were made aware of the situation they requested you be taken to an undisclosed location. For your safety of course they’ll oblige. In this way you get where your supposed to be and its all above board.”

Snorting Harriet pulled away so John could see her roll her eyes. “Always a plan.”

John kissed her forehead. “Go on. And write me when you get wherever you’re going so I know you made it without your penchant for drawing trouble rearing up.”

Dumbledore watched with a smile as Harriet agreed to the request and the two quipped back and forth. He was glad that she again had family who cared about her. Petunia, her husband, and son had proven disappointing, but perhaps her magical relative would provide Harriet with the love she deserved.

He wasn’t ready yet to trust the boy, but Dumbledore considered that perhaps it was time to give him more opportunities to prove himself.

***

Harriet wanted to scratch herself bloody. Anything to help with the itch. It hadn’t been so bad in months. She had known her routine was helping but she hadn’t realized how terribly much until she had to break it. Between the itch, the pain in her head, and the aches in her body she just wanted to lay down and cry.

Helping Madam Bones at the ministry was distraction enough to keep her stable for a time. She was too busy to pay the itch much mind or the pain that was coming from having her inner eye open for far too long. Harriet thought she could get some relief once the Death Eaters were rounded up but then she’d been asked to ‘keep an eye out’ and so she’d had to carry on. At least using the meditation and compartmentalizing tricks Snape had taught her helped to keep her emotions in check and the itch more manageable until Dumbledore and John arrived.

For hours after that her problems were manageable again. The calming draught took some of the edge off and kept her from caring to much about the pain. Then she was being kept busy again. The pain was still there but for hours there was only a hint of itchiness. Every time she absentmindedly moved to indulge in a scratch John was there to stay her hand. He even spelled her nails to make certain she wouldn’t unthinkingly do herself harm.

All things considered she had thought she was holding up well. She thought she could handle the night not quite being over yet when she said goodbyes as she prepared for the additional headaches the Dursleys would undoubtedly bring her. She comforted herself that at least she wasn’t off to raid Malfoy Manor like Dumbledore, John, Bones, and a dozen or so other aurors were.

She left the Ministry in the last dark hours of the morning with a guard consisting of Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Moody. They took the Minister’s floo to Kingsley’s home where Harriet learned that he the summer before he’d moved to an apartment close to the Dursley’s so they would have a back up floo available if going to Mrs Figg’s wasn’t an option. They left his place with Tonks transformed to pass as Harriet’s mother and Moody following a short distance behind on broom while under an invisibility cloak in case they got attacked and needed back up.

From the interviews it was believed all Death Eaters but an extremely select few had been called in for the raid at the Ministry. Snape and Narcissa were meant to be the only senior members left out while the others were all young witches and wizards, legacies who had been brought into Voldemort’s number since his return by their families who served. Still they didn’t trust that those young ones couldn’t cause trouble or that everyone was yet accounted for so Moody flew behind with a bird’s-eye view while the rest of them took a cab to the Dursleys.

The drive would have been the perfect time for a nap but Harriet was too tired to sleep. Unfortunately she was also too tired and in too much pain to exert the willpower for the exercises Snape had taught her which had helped her so much earlier. Because of this the itchiness along her skin grew and grew until it was completely out of hand. She desperately wanted relief. She wanted relief so badly. It took every bit of self control she had left to keep herself perfectly still until they reached the Dursleys’.

Once the cabby was paid and gone they loitered on the pavement to give Moody time to fly around the house and neighborhood. Only once he had checked the area to his satisfaction did Moody give his okay and they headed in to wake the family. As John had predicted Vernon and Petunia were none too happy to be woken so early. It was little comfort to Harriet that their reaction would have been far worse if the call had come even an hour earlier or worse, in the middle of the night.

For once Harriet was happy to indulge in the fact that she was a minor and there for she could sit back and let the authority figures handle things. She abandoned Tonks and Kingsley to deal with her aunt’s sneered words and her uncle’s barely restrained temper while she headed to the kitchen. As she was on her own she kept her wand in hand as she moved to the fridge. Yanking open the freezer and then the fridge her sigh of expected relief turned into a noise of frustration when the cold just wasn’t cold enough to banish the itch from her skin.

Stripping off her robe and rolling up her sleeves Harriet reached into the freezer to retrieve the ice so she could rub it on the worst spots. Spotting an icepack she grabbed that to drape over her wrist. She had injured it in the dual and no matter where else the itch appeared, around that injury it remained a persistent maddening irritation. In the past freezing baths and ice had helped to speed up her healing but Harriet hadn’t noticed a correlation between her injuries and her itching problem.

Her first impulse was to discuss it with Snape, but she wasn’t certain that was wise. Snape had insisted that what she was experiencing was because of Voldemort which had obviously been wrong. Shouldn’t Snape as her healer have been able to spot a being inheritance? Or maybe it was all a lie on Voldemort’s part that his form came from her. But then, if Snape’s diagnose was right than surely with Voldemort’s body destroyed she shouldn’t be having symptoms from him any longer. Unless he’d managed to escape and wasn’t really gone?

With her thoughts only making the itch more intense Harriet forced herself to stop thinking about almost everything. Instead she focused on getting what relief she could.

Tossing an ice cube into her mouth she munched on it like it was her favorite treat. She was reaching for another when Dudley came into the room. He stood looking for her in the dark while standing silhouetted in the light from the hall. With the door being held open the voices of the adults were easier to hear but she wasn’t interested in trying to discern what they had to say.

“Harriet,” Dudley called out confused by his inability to see her.

Part of her wanted to ignore him, stay silent and hope he went away, but a more responsible voice told Harriet that he might have something to tell her that she needed to know.

“Over here,” she directed him.

Tracking him by his heavy footed steps Harriet listened as Dudley came to join her.

Shocking her with what sounded like genuine concern, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Turning she took in her cousins face and was left flabbergasted by the worry in his expression and body posture.

“Um… not really,” she admitted.

The unhappy set of Dudley’s face worsened, “Those people-”

“Aurors Tonks and Kingsley. They’re like police,” she interrupted, wanting Dudley to treat them with respect.

Continuing to behave unexpectedly Dudley only nodded, happy to have been supplied the names he’d forgotten. “They said you were attacked.”

Suspicious though she was as to why Dudley was bringing this up, Harriet still answered, “I was.”

“Were you hurt?”

It was such a simple question but given that she’d never heard the like from a Dursley Harriet didn’t know what to do with it.

“I could get you the first aid box,” Dudley offered.

“I… I’m good,” she answered.

It sounded more like a question than an assurance but Dudley nodded his acceptance. “Do you need anything?”

Not knowing what else to do Harriet took the question seriously. Was there anything she needed that Dudley might be able to do for her?

Hopefully she requested, “Water?”

Nodding Dudley headed to the sink without complaint. Harriet watched him like a hawk for any signs of fowl play but he did absolutely nothing. There was no spitting in her cup or anything of the like. Just a glass of water fetched from the tap and brought to her.

“Thanks,” she said taking the cup and chugging it down. She hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until she’d started munching on the ice.

“Another,” Dudley asked.

“Thanks,” Harriet agreed holding it back out to him.

Two glasses of water later and Harriet finally declined Dudley’s offer to get her another refill.

Sighing Harriet put her head down into the freezer.

Frowning at her Dudley pushed, “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Harriet shook her head. Without lifting her head from where it was resting she asked Dudley, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Looking down he fidgeted with her empty cup. “You saved me.”

It took Harriet a moment to figure out what he was talking about. After everything she’d been through in the last day the dementor attack seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I never got to thank you,” Dudley added softly.

After several long seconds of deliberations Harriet said, “Your welcome,” and left it at that. “So what are they talking about in there.”

Dudley looked up to her and then out towards the sound of muffled voices. Mostly Vernon’s. “Mom and Dad don’t want you here,” he admitted. “But they don’t want the police to leave.”

“Aurors,” Harriet corrected gently.

“Huh,” Dudley grunted looking back at her.

“Magical police are called Aurors.”

“Right,” Dudley said. “Aurors,” he repeated to check he had it right. When Harriet nodded he looked proud and continued on. “Well dad wants them to say. Says we’re entitled to protection.”

“What else did he have to say?”

Again Dudley fidgeted. “That we wouldn’t have kept you here if it wasn’t for the security that was promised and you won’t be welcomed back if they don’t do it.”

Harriet snorted but seeing Dudley’s concern held back from being sarcastic or saying anything about his father. “There are already protections on the house, but I’ll make certain someone stays to watch out for you… might be best to spend the week home though, just to be safe.”

Giving Harriet yet another shock with his new found care Dudley wasn’t relieved. “But what about you? You’re supposed to stay here cause it’s safe. Will you be okay if you leave?”

For the first time in her life that Harriet could recall she looked at her cousin softly. “Yeah Dudley. We weren’t planning on my staying. Just letting you all know what had happened. There’s another safe place waiting.”

With that news came the relief from him that Harriet had expected earlier.

“Girl,” Vernon bellowed from the hall.

Sighing she closed the fridge and freezer. “I think that’s my cue.”

Nodding, Dudley followed her out of the kitchen to where Petunia, Tonks, and Kingsley were waiting. While Vernon wasn’t in sight Harriet could hear his stomping steps going up the stairs.

Still in her motherly disguise Tonks held out an arm to her.

“Bye Dudley,” Harriet said.

She expected to walk away and that would be that. Instead Dudley took a step towards her. It looked like he was going for a handshake only when she went to give it to him he changed his mind and pulled her in for a hug instead.

‘I’m taller than Dudley,’ Harriet thought through her shock as she stood stiff in Dudley’s embrace.

Awkwardly he patted her on the back before letting her go.

“Look after her,” he told the Aurors sternly.

Gaping Harriet wondered what in Morgana’s name had gotten in to him. Being grateful for being saved was one thing but all this. His behavior was almost more shocking than everything else that had happened that night.

As Harriet continued to stare Dudley started to flush and look awkward. Not seeming to know what else he should do he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She wanted to say something dismissive or make a joke, or Merlin maybe even ask him where this kindness had come from as she’d never seen it before… but if Dudley was willing to make an effort to start over on a new page than Harriet would support it. Having one cousin who actually loved her had turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to her. Having another who at least cared couldn’t be so bad?

It was Dudley’s turn to stiffen in surprise as Harriet stepped forward to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” she told him.

Relaxing some Dudley brought his arms up to return her hug. He finished it again with awkward pat to her back but this time Harriet pulled out of the hug smiling.

Not wanting to ruin the moment she didn’t look at her Aunt as she turned to leave and as Petunia remained silent she was given no reason to.

Once they were outside Moody flew in to checking on them. Idly Harriet wondered if he didn’t fly whenever he did covert work so he wouldn’t have to worry about his prosthetic giving him away or making him less mobile.

When a still invisible Moody spoke Tonks and Kingsley startled some with Tonks loosing control. Her hair just started to transform before she reigned it back into form and scowled around at the air. Moody noticed Harriet hadn’t been surprised and asked her about it. When she revealed her inner eye let her see his invisibility cloak the seasoned Auror was not pleased. Tonks and Kingsley weren’t trilled about it either.

Moody took back to the skies to fly over them while they walked to Mrs Figg’s. As they walked it was explained to Harriet the importance of invisibility cloaks to field work as an auror. They hadn’t known that there was such a weakness to that protection. It was very worrying to them but Tonks looked on the bright side that at least now they knew about it so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise.

Harriet was just happy to discuss anything other than her relatives. She didn’t know what she would say if they’d asked about her Aunt and Uncles behavior. Lie and give platitudes like she might have done as a child? Admit that sometimes her Aunt and Uncle decided to pretend she didn’t exist and other times what they had seen was only a taste of how bad the Dursleys' could be? Better that it was just avoided all around.

Mrs. Figg wasn’t up yet when they came to her house.

“Here with me girl,” Moody said landing besides them and gesturing her under the cloak to stay hidden.

Everything was tense as Tonks knocked on the door.

When Mrs. Figg eventually arrived she blinked at them as she came fully awake. Distressed she asked, “What’s happened now?”

“Best to discuss it with tea, if you don’t mind,” Tonks explained.

“Of course. Of course,” Mrs. Figg said gesturing them through.

Together Harriet and Moody waited outside as was part of the plan. Harriet had been the one to suggest at Kingsley’s flat that perhaps it was best if Mrs. Figg didn’t know where she was going. The fewer who knew the less people at risk of being targeted for the answers, she’d reasoned and the others agreed.

“Moody,” Harriet whispered as they waited.

He grunted in response.

“Can you make sure nothing happens,” she asked needing to know she hadn’t lied to Dudley. “That even though I’m not here my relatives will be looked after?”

Moody squeezed her shoulder. “It will be taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

They stayed in silence until Kingsley opened the door to them. As they walked together into the house they could hear Tonks apologizing to Mrs Figg for something in the kitchen. Leaving her at the entryway, Moody handed Harriet off to Kingsley who quietly but quickly moved Harriet over to the fireplace. Showing her where Mrs Figg kept the floo powder he whispered. “We’ll be along in a mo’.”

Harriet nodded her understanding before stepping into the fireplace. She had to crouch a good deal to manage, but manage it she did.

Whispering clearly she called for 12 Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately thanks to the crouching she didn’t land on the other side with the success she’d managed at the Ministry and spilled out onto the kitchen floor.

Around the room every head turned to look at her while Harriet dealt with all the things her inner eye let her see of house. For all the cleaning they’d done she could see everything they missed. There was still a terrible amount of malicious magic in the house as well as a plethora of creatures and pests, some physical and some not of their plane. It was all too much to take in with what she’d been through that night. Especially the Fidelius Charm which covered the building. Thankfully, as she could see that everyone was who they appeared to be, she was quickly about to close off her Sight. As tired as she was the transition was disorientating. A bit like suddenly going blind. It threw her off so badly that Harriet didn’t respond when she was called to nor when Sirius and Remus knelt at her side with Molly worriedly hovering behind and Bill supporting his mother.

Thankfully Tonks and Kingsley were able to arrive and settle most of their worries. Why Harriet was having trouble responding was the one thing they could not explain.

“I”m alright,” she was finally able to get out as she got herself more orientated.

As a reflex to the stress Sirius teased. “Lost in a vision?”

“Kind of,” Harriet admitted.

“See anything interesting,” Remus asked as he and Sirius worked to leverage her up onto her feet.

“There’s another infestation of Doxies starting up in the wall of the attic.”

Able to tell that something still wasn’t right with her Sirius looked to Kingsley and Tonks.

“She really should be getting to bed,” Kingsley explained. “She’s had a very long night.”

In full agreement Harriet sighed rubbing at her face. She didn’t feel any closer to being able to sleep then she had in the cab but she was ready for her day and responsibilities to be done. Unfortunately rubbing at her face quickly became itching.

“I’ll send up a nice cup of tea dear,” Mrs Weasley offered, eager to care for someone and stay busy. She was already headed to put a fresh kettle on when she amended, “But maybe you’d prefer warm milk? Or maybe some breakfast instead?”

Harriet thought back to Dudley when he had asked much the same thing.

Shaking her head she slumped her weight into Sirius. As she let her head rest down on top of his she found herself wishing he was taller or she was shorter. She wanted to feel small and sheltered and the comfort that would bring but being the larger of the pair just made her more aware of how much she stuck out like a sore thumb around everyone else. Normally she wouldn’t let it get to her, but she was just too wrung out to fight the feeling

Harriet thought about all the stairs between her and where she needed to go to finally get a cold bath that would sooth her itch and hopefully help her aching head.

“I don’t think I can make it on my own,” she admitted. “I’m just too tired.”

Sirius looked to the others in the room. Remus and Molly shared his concern at this news while Tonks and Shacklebolt just looked sympathetic. Harriet supposed the two of them being aurors had long nights like hers before. It was only Bill who didn’t blink an eye.

Despite his Concern Sirius held his questions back for the time being. Adjusting his hold on Harriet he teased, “Well I think you're a little big for me to carry you, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

And manage they did. With Sirius’ help Harriet made it up one flight of stairs then the next. All she could think about was getting into a wonderful freezing bath, but thinking about a bath made her realize she wasn’t out of problems to solve just yet.

“I don’t have my things,” she reminded her godfather as they finished with the stairs.

Sirius didn’t think this through and readily answered, “For now you can borrow some of mine.”

While it was kind of him to offer Harriet had to shake her head declining. “I need my things and a bath or I’ll never sleep through the itch.”

Having been reminded of her problem Sirius accepted this. “I can get you set up in the bath then send someone off to Hogwarts and get your things.”

But Harriet had another idea.

As Sirius helped her into the bathroom Harriet called for Kreacher.

“What is Mistress Potter needing from Kreature,” the house elf mumbled with his usual resentful respect. It didn’t stop Sirius glaring at him.

“I need you to stay and listen to my full instructions,” Harriet said having learned how to best avoid Kreature's minor acts of rebellion which included doing things like purposely leaving to see to a task knowing there was more you wanted to say. Given how he frowned Harriet supposed he’d been planning on doing just that when she’d summoned him.

“I need you to go to Hogwarts immediately. While there you are to be polite, respectful, and patient while seeing to the task I assign, which you will carry out in a timely manor with no detours. Once there you are to contact the house elf Dobby. You are to inform him that Mistress Potter is well but per Dumbledore’s orders will being staying away from Hogwarts for a time. You are to tell him that I ask he go to Hermione and tell her this. That the good change of fortune came through but it means I’m going to be staying with Padfoot for a while. That I am fine but need my things as my itching problem is getting very bad. That I need her to pack all my things accept for Padfoot’s mirror.”

She looked to Sirius to see he was okay with this. He smiled some and rolled his eyes to tell her he was.

“Tell Dobby to tell Hermione that I’ll use it to get in touch later, but everything else should be sent along.” Harriet trusted Hermione to know that if she said everything she meant everything, including John’s letter box.

“You are to wait behind while Dobby sees to this until he brings you my things or instead brings you word of a problem. If there is a problem you are to return here and tell me. If he brings you my things you are to safely and with the utmost of care bring them here to me.”

By the time she was done Kreature was glaring over his orders as much as Sirius was glaring at him.

“You will go see to this task now Kreature,” Harriet told him.

After the slightest bow he left with a pop to get on with it.

“Thorough,” Sirius complimented but it sounded too judging to be sincere.

“Let’s hope thorough enough,” Harriet offered though she had a feeling it would be.

While Harriet had been talking to Kreature Sirius had been filling the tub for her. Finding it full enough he shut off the tap. Reaching down he tested the temperature of the water and shiver. Feeling that was satisfactory he declared, “Alright kid. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Sirius,” Harriet stopped him. “That’s not cold enough.”

He looked from the water then back to her. “Really?”

“Seriously, serious,” Harriet said trying to tease as she toed off her shoes and shocks.

Snorting Sirius drew his wand to spell the water even colder. There was only a hint of ice around the edge but Harriet wasn’t going to push for more yet. She just wanted relief so without bothering to take off her clothes she swung her legs over into the tub and sunk in.

“Harriet,” Sirius called out in alarm as she disappeared under the water. Not wanting him to worry she didn’t stay under for long.

As she broke the surface she leaned back against the side of the tub and sighed.

Standing with his arms crossed Sirius looked down on her amused. “Better?”

“Colder,” Harriet requested with a pleading look.

He raised an eyebrow at the request but did not comment on it.

“Say when,” he instructed before starting on an extended freeze. Harriet was just about encased in ice before she told him to stop. For a minute she just leaned back into it, relishing in the cold. It was bliss. After the night she’d had it was utter bliss to her itchy skin and aching, exhausted body.

“You’re not even shivering,” Sirius noted with a frown. Kneeling down he put a hand on her head. “And your still mostly a normal temperature.”

Harriet hummed. “It’s how I always am. The cold feels good and cools me down but I never really get cold.” Well that wasn’t entirely accurate. The freezing curse Luna had provided made her cold to the touch for an extended period of time, until it started wearing off.

Sirius’ frown depend. “You shouldn’t have to live like this. We’ve got to find another way to protect you because obviously occlumency isn’t cutting it.”

Harriet’s face involuntarily twitched.

Bringing her hand out of the water she shook off as much water as she could before reaching out for Sirius. Without having to be asked he crouched down besides the tub to take her hand in his.

“The occlumency was never going to do any good,” Harriet revealed. She was worried how Sirius would react to the news but she was happy that she was the one who would get to tell him. It didn’t make it any easier to get the words out though. “We found out it wasn’t him.”

With a frown Sirius settled himself cross-legged on the floor next to the tub, settling in ready for a long stay. Giving her hand a squeeze he said, “I think you better tell me everything that happened tonight.”

Harriet nodded. “All day long I had this feeling and I couldn’t put my finger on it. When we got back to the common room the others suggested I do a reading to see what it had to say, so I did a tea reading for everyone…” Harriet went on to explain about the results, the letter, and Umbridge coming to fetch her. How it was only once she was at the Ministry that she learned she was supposed to fetch the prophecy the Order had been protecting.

“And did you get it?”

“Yes,” Harriet admitted guiltily.

Sirius slumped as implications of that hit him.

“Go on,” he said after he’d had a moment to process. “What happened?”

Harriet took a deep breath. She watched the wall so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction to what was coming.

“Voldemort was in the Ministry,” she said bluntly, like ripping off a plaster in one quick move. Sirius’ hand spasmed in her’s. He took in a quick sharp breath and taking advantage of that she pushed on before he could interrupt. “The ‘Unspeakables’ I was with were Death Eaters in disguise; Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and I don’t know who the last three were.”

With Sirius cursing Harriet pushed on. She needed to get this out. She needed to tell Sirius everything now. Something was compelling her, insisting this was the moment and it couldn’t wait for later.

“He’d taken the Ministry before I got there. He had the whole building under his control. I don’t know all the details but they’d taken a lot of people hostage and brought in all the Death Eaters to hold it. They shut down the ways in and out. It was Voldemort’s. I didn’t know that though. I just thought it was the Death Eaters with me. I thought I’d find a way to escape but when we got to the Department of Mysteries-”

Harriet shook her head.

“I knew they were Death Eaters because I’d had my inner eye open but when we went into the Department of Mysteries that caused all kinds of problems and they only got worse the longer we were in there. The Hall of Prophecies only intensified the problem. I ended up passing out. I barely remember anything about getting the prophecy. I just woke up outside the Department with it later then managed to get away from them with it. Got four knocked out with only Malfoy left standing. I made my way up to the Atrium, but it was full with more Death Eaters in disguise. They kept me from getting out until Voldemort showed up… He had a lot to say about everything.”

Looking over at Sirius she smiled weakly at him as she continued. “The good news is, the Ministry knows you’re innocent now, and as Fudge is heading for an impeachment he won’t be able to get in the way of your name being cleared.”

Sirius blinked, completely flabbergasted. “How?”

“We were talking about the prophecy and why Voldemort went after my parents with a pretty big audience. Madam Bones approached me later about it and my saying it was Wormtail who betrayed us. Apparently Voldemort brought it up earlier too. He said something like the Ministry had done him a favor locking innocent people away while letting his followers do what they wanted.”

Sirius’ eyes widened but Harriet didn’t pause for questions.

“She promised that wasn’t going to happen again. Rita seemed to agree.”

“Wait. Wait. Rita? Not Rita Skeeter,” Sirius interrupted.

Harriet nodded. “Voldemort kidnapped her to be one of his ‘guests’ for the take over. A bunch of other people too. I guess he wanted a captured audience.”

Seeing Sirius’ frown of distaste for her joke Harriet chuckled with genuine amusement.

“I know, but it worked out in our favor. A lot of important people saw for themselves that Voldemort was back and what he was like… Some of them were tortured. All of them at least saw someone hurt by him. Some people died,” Harriet explained with her voice getting small. The guilt was heavy in her heart for everything everyone had gone through, but, “They won’t be able to forget what happened. They won’t be able to turn a blind eye.” Again, went unsaid.

Squeezing her hand Sirius encouraged her to continue on. “What happen? After you’d talked about me?”

Harriet pulled in a shaky breath. “Voldemort listened to the prophecy, and he dismissed it. He felt it only applied to the past. That he’d learned his lesson. He revealed why I survived the killing curse. Well, why he thinks I did anyway.”

Harriet couldn’t bring herself to go on. She knew in her bones that she needed to be the one to tell Sirius and it was best to do it sooner than later, but she couldn’t make herself speak.

“Something your mother did, Dumbledore said,” Sirius supplied her but Harriet shook her head.

“No not Mom,” she denied in a small voice.

Sirius looked at her earnestly giving Harriet the strength she needed to ask, “Did you ever hear about the Potter’s having a being inheritance?”

The expression on Sirius’ face transformed from earnest to confused and then shut down, guarding away his emotions. He pulled his hand free of Harriet’s to brush his hair back before answering. “A bit of banshee blood, some Veela too, probably a hand full of other things, but all in the other branches. Not your Dad’s.”

Harriet was suspicious of Sirius’ reaction to the question but she still asked gently, “No Jotunn blood then?”

“Jotunn,” he repeated, his confusion not entirely pushing back the other feelings this line of questioning had brought up. His expression became furrowed as he tried to think. His voice was still hard from his effort to keep from showing what he was feeling. “I’m not even sure I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re sometimes called Frost Giants, and according to Voldemort that’s what he was. An inheritance I gave him, that apparently saved me from the killing curse and is probably the reason for all this as well,” Harriet explained with a gesture out her body in the tub.

Sirius didn't look happy. He didn’t look happy at all. Harriet could see that thoughts were racing in his head as he put together what she was telling him with what he already knew and came to conclusions he did not like.

“Sirius,” she said to get his attention.

Slowly he turned to meet her eye.

“Please,” she pleaded. “What do you know?”

With a loud bang Harriet’s trunk appeared on the floor besides the sink with a few other items placed on the top. Harriet scowled at them. She was certain Kreature had timed that. The bang had certainly been his doing and not at all needed.

“I’ll leave you to your shower,” Sirius said getting to his feet with his face still fighting not to show his emotions.

Reaching out to snag his pants Harriet begged, “Sirius.”

Shaking his head he looked down at her with pleading eyes. Taking her hand from his leg he squeezed it. When he spoke again he allowed his emotions to shine through, portraying his desperation. “I promise Harriet. I’ll tell you. I will. Just… Just get your shower. It’ll give me time to think this all through. Once my head’s sorted I’ll explain.”

Reluctantly Harriet nodded which earned her a smile of gratitude and a kiss to her hand before Sirius let her go, leaving the room with a stiff stride.

Once he had the door closed behind him, the thunder of emotions in him came out on display. With his jaw tight and his fists clenched he stormed out of the bedroom into the hallway to pace. With thoughts storming and murder on his mind the animagus growled, “That bastard.”

When Harriet came out from her shower she found him not as a man, but as Padfoot waiting for her on the bed.

“I thought you were supposed to be processing not running away from your emotions,” she teased warily.

Padfoot whined feeling badly. He was responsible for that. He’d put Harriet in the mindset to be expecting that this conversation wouldn’t be a good thing.

Shifting back to his human form Sirius rubbed at the back of his head. “Old habit after Azkaban. Everything is so much easier as a dog,” he lamented.

Harriet looked at him with sympathy. Seeing her care for him it was easy for Sirius to muster a small smile for her.

“Molly sent up some tea. Given the night you had it’s probably best we get something in you,” he suggested, tilting his head in the direction of the tray.

‘Before you have to deal with any more revelations,’ he thought but very much did not say.

Accepting this Harriet headed over to the teapot to pour herself and then thoughtfully Sirius a cup which she delivered to him.

They sat in silence, sipping at their drinks. From the corner of his eye Sirius could see that Harriet was thinking. What about he wasn’t sure. He knew he was considering exactly how best to tell her what needed saying. After some time as Padfoot he was on a more even kneel but being calmed down didn’t make him any more qualified for this.

This was never meant to be his job. This was a conversation James and Lily were meant to have with Harriet if they ever decided there was a need to have it at all. It wasn’t even something Sirius liked to think about. In fact over the years he’d buried it down so deep that he’d delusionally lived as best he could as though it had never happened and would never need to be remembered.

Having reached the bottom of her cup Harriet read the leaves as was her habit.

Nervously he asked, “Anything good?”

She rolled the tea cup in her hand as she examined it. Tilting her head she turned her examining gaze on him.

“Acquired burdens in my future,” she explained driving a needle into his heart.

“Haven’t you enough of those already,” he asked hating that his goddaughter who was so young had to bear so much, and here he was about to add to it.

“Some burdens are worth carrying,” Harriet told him softly, “and if they help me better understand myself and what’s happening to me I definitely want to know.”

Sirius wasn’t certain of that. He couldn’t help feeling that maybe this was something Harriet would be better off staying ignorant of.

“Sirius,” she said in a kind but firm tone. “When I was in the Ministry Voldemort touched me. According to Snape and Narcissa I should be scarred and injured beyond repair because of it, but I’m not. It felt cold, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t leave a mark on me, but what it did do was turn my skin blue and my eyes red. You know something. I can tell. Please Sirius. I want to understand what’s happening.”

By the end her voice was rough with the weight of her emotions and her eyes were beginning to tear.

Reaching out Sirius cupped her cheek. Using a thumb he whipped away her first tear as it fell.

“Alright,” he promised. “Alright.”

Wrapping an arm around her he took a deep fortifying breath and let it out in a rush. Then for extra measure he took a second. Still looking to buy time to get his thoughts in order he looked down at what was left of his tea and worked on finishing it off in three drawls. With his cup empty he presented it to an unamused Harriet.

“Read my leaves,” he requested.

Rolling her eyes Harriet took his cup. She frowned harshly at what she saw inside.

Alarmed Sirius asked, “What is it?”

“A good change in fortune,” Harriet declared thumping the cup down on the nightstand.

“Isn’t that a… well, good thing?”

Harriet frowned before waving her hand dismissively. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now it’s your turn to talk,” she said giving him a pointed look.

Sirius sighed looking away from her. With pouted lips he thought how best to start this. He wanted to assure Harriet that her father had loved her and Sirius loved her and nothing he revealed could change that, but he suspected the warning would only serve to alarm her. Instead he thought he’d go back, back before Harriet’s time and hopefully set her up to better understand things beyond her own circumstances.

Keeping an eye on Harriet Sirius explained carefully. “When his parents died James’ biggest regret was that you would never get to meet them. They were amazing people and wonderful parents who loved James absolutely and would have loved you just as much.”

He could see Harriet was confused as to where he was going with this but given that she was only a seer and not omniscient Sirius wasn’t surprised by that.

“Fleamont and Euphenmia had been trying for decades but they’d had no luck. Eventually they realized it wasn’t going to happen for them. It’s a problem that happens more often with purebloods than they would like to admit and when it does there is a standard solution. That solution is adoption. People don’t talk about it, but it does happen. For all the rhetoric that gets spouted about blood in the end continuing the family legacy usually takes precedent. It wasn’t about that for Fleamont and Euphenmia though. There are other Potter’s out there. Your grandparents would have happily left it to them to carry on the family name but they wanted to be parents. When they realized they couldn’t conceive a kid they put out the word that they were looking. That’s how they found James.”

“Dad was adopted?”

Sirius nodded with a smile. “Yep. About seven months before your father was born some distant relatives reached out from across the pond. Your grandparents could never tell him who exactly it was due to the adoption contract they signed sealing the secret, but they could say his birth mother was a young girl in some trouble thanks to a lover who ran off on her after he found out she was pregnant. She didn’t want to raise the child alone, especially as it would mean she’d probably have to accept a lesser match if she let her parents arrange a marriage.”

Seeing the stink eye Harriet was giving him Sirius raised his hands up. “Old school values kid. They aren’t yours and they aren’t mine but given the time it was actually a relief to James not to hear something worse when his parents told him.”

“And when was that exactly,” Harriet asked wanting to understand.

“When he turned 17. As far as I know me and your mom were the only ones he ever told about it after they told him. Not because he was ashamed mind you. It was just because, to him it didn’t matter. His parents were his parents in his heart, experience, and by law. He didn’t think it was anyone’s business that he hadn’t been born to them.”

Harriet was thoroughly thrown and already shaking her head.

“So…” Her mouth opened and closed on a false start as to what she wanted to say. Giving up she closed her eyes as she took in what she just learned.

Sirius swallowed nervously worried about what was still to come.

Opening her eyes Harriet looked at him, lost in her need to understand. “If you think the being inheritance comes from Dad’s birth parents then why wouldn’t you just tell me that earlier? Why make such a production about it?”

Sirius felt his face convulse with distress and dread as he geared up for what he had to say. “Because that’s not where you would have gotten a being inheritance from. You see Harriet…”

He floundered, at sea and uncertain which shore to swim for.

With a determined expression Harriet told him, “Just tell me the facts. You can do the explaining after.”

Nodding Sirius swallowed down the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. He started to look down but forced himself to lift his head back up and hold Harriet’s gaze. She deserved that much from him.

“Harriet,” he said his voice coming out a bit too firm. With a deep breath he forced his face to relax and his tone to lighten. “Any being inheritance you have wouldn’t come from James because just like Fleamount was his dad but didn’t sire him, James was your dad… but he didn’t sire you. Your mom gave birth to you but James wasn’t your father by birthright. He was your father by choice. A choice he never regretted,” Sirius rushed to stress. “You must never doubt that. Your father loved you and you were his, no matter anything else. You were his.”

Harriet stared off, trying to understand.

Not sure what else he could do for the moment, Sirius tried to reach out for her hand but Harriet pulled it away from him.

Turning she set her gaze back on him. “So what? Dad was sterile-”

Without meaning to Sirius grimaced showing Harriet with her keen sense of perception that sterile was not the cause and the true answer was not one he was expecting her to like.

She stared at him intently as the silence grew between them.

Realizing it was up to him to be the one to take the initiative Sirius swallowed again before starting. “Your mom and dad, they loved each other. They really did. But they were young when they got together and there was a war on, and war makes everything a lot harder than it should be…”

Feeling impatiently Harriet crossed her arms but didn’t interrupt.

“James and I, we liked to deal with everything by blowing off steam when we could. Lily said that we regressed to act like we were still young boys at Hogwarts, all our maturity lost to foolishness and ego. While your mom loved the man James grew into, she didn’t much care for the boy.”

Sirius frowned even though he tried to fight it off.

“You mustn't judge her Harriet. People make mistakes. Your mother’s biggest happened a bit after she and your father got engaged. James had been particularly reckless during a confrontation with some Death Eaters and after… well he was excited. Your mother said he was talking about it like the highlights of a Quidditch match or a prank he pulled off, and not nearly dying. I didn’t hear much more after that. I could tell this was going to be a big row so I left. I heard about it later though when your dad showed up heartbroken to crash on my couch for the night. He told me Lily had called off the engagement as she wouldn’t tie herself to someone who could be so cavalier about his life.”

Despite Sirius advising that Harriet not judge her mother his own judgment still lingered after all this time. He loved Lily. Really he did. Where James was his brother, she was his sister in-law, but it always seemed to him that the problems the couple went through all went back to her being too hard on James and others. As far as he was concerned Lily should have been focusing on her own flaws and meeting her own high standards. However he tried to keep these feelings out of his explanation with varying degrees of success.

“While James came to me, Lily went to a bar. There was a man there and… lets just say he fit your mom’s type,” Sirius said having to fight not to clench his teeth on the words. “They got talking and one thing led to another.”

He looked to Harriet to see that she understood and slumped when he found she did, saving him from having to come out to say that Lily had sex with a stranger just hours after calling off her engagement. He wasn’t sure he could have managed that without a heaping ton of judgment coming through.

“So he was my… sire,” Harriet asked.

Sirius answered with relief, “Yes.”

Harriet scowled as she thought that over. “But that doesn’t make sense… if dad and mom weren’t married yet the dates just don’t line up.”

The realization came making her face go slack.

Sirius grimaced as she turned wide eyes full of questions on him. Taking a deep breath he built himself up to explain. “Your mom and this man carried on for a week until he left to ‘return home.’ He asked if he could get in touch when he was back in the area. She told him he could and sent him on his way. Sometime after that James was attacked. It was targeted. Payback for that last raid. He almost didn’t get away. Realizing that he could have died without her having seen him in days and their last words would have been them breaking-up your mom decided she didn’t want that. For all the imperfections in their relationship she loved your father and didn’t want him dying thinking any different. The wedding was back on and things were good, but there was still a war going which was a stressful thing on everyone.”

Sirius paused to figure out how best to say what later came about.

“A week before the wedding your mom got an owl from that guy. It said he was back in town and he wanted to get together. She shouldn’t have answered him but she did…”

“Time of war,” Harriet said going back to his previous statement, “and she was young.”

Nodding stiffly Sirius agreed. “People make mistakes.”

“…The dates still don’t match up,” Harriet said in a small voice.

“That’s because it wasn’t the last time she saw him. She met with him again and when the big day came she married James without ever saying a word. And the next time the guy wrote it was the same again. This… It was an affair. A long running one,” Sirius explained not knowing how to soften that blow. “They carried on with it until you were conceived. Lily wanted an escape, an adventure with a stranger,” Sirius said sneering around the word, “who didn’t know who she was so she could be someone else for a time.”

“You think he did know,” Harriet said having caught on to his doubt.

Sirius frowned deeply as his old suspicions spun mockingly through his head.

“The guy… he claimed to be a Potter. Lauren Potter, a pureblood from America yet we were supposed to believe he knew nothing about who Lily was. As a relative of James a woman named Lily should have raised flags. Fleamonth and Euphemia may have been happy with your parents marrying but well, you’ve heard John talk. The other Potters aren’t all a very accepting bunch. Muggleborn witch was better than a muggle in their eyes but still something to gossip about. It was a big talking point for them.”

“So… you think this guy was sent to mess up mom and dad’s relationship,” Harriet asked completely thrown by the Shakespearian drama of such a plot, but as she thought about it she decided it did seem like a very pureblooded thing to do. Sirius’ face however showed that was not what he thought. He suspected something else and whatever it was obviously made him spitting mad to think about it. “If not that then what is it? What do you think… this guy was after?”

Sirius who had been holding his breath inhaled very slowly before unclenching his jaw to speak. “This guy, whoever he was looked like a Potter or you could say, he looked like James.”

Mom’s type, Harriet remembered him saying.

“He was tall but not too tall with pale skin, a head of curly black hair, and a bit of mischief in him. I always found it a bit too convenient that someone who happened to look like James zeroed in on Lily just when she would be vulnerable.”

Shaking her head Harriet was lost, “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you were the bad sort and you wanted to get close to Lily, looking like her future husband would be a good way of accomplishing that, wouldn’t it? If you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance as yourself, why not be someone else? Why not go for something close to someone you know she does like.” Gaining bluster Sirius plowed on. “And your mom, even with the war and the problems your parents had? It never made sense to me that she’d do what she did. Maybe she would, but it makes more sense that someone slipped her something. Say a little lust potion to ease the way? To make her come back even once she was a married woman?”

Sirius stared at Harriet with such hope that she would agree while Harriet could only stare back impassively.

Carefully she answered him, “A potion made say by a potions master and Death Eater who always hated dad but loved mom?”

“Love,” Sirius repeated with a sneer so fierce it bared his canines.

Giving voice to what Sirius wouldn’t Harriet said, “You think Snape is my father.” It wasn’t a question.

Unwilling to meet her eye Sirius turned away from Harriet.

“Did you ever tell Mom and Dad your suspicions?

“Your mom said it couldn’t have been. She said she would have been able to tell. And your dad, he preferred to think she’d made a mistake of her own free will than someone having violated her in that way.”

“Raped you mean,” Harriet said, forcing them to be blunt about what Sirius was proposing here.

Sirius nodded mutely while he eyes burned with hatred and upset for what he wanted to believe had happened.

Harriet stared at him numbly as she considered how her godfather could believe this and how the suspicion played into events of the past. There were so many things to question. Like how much Sirius really believe and how much of this was him deluding himself for comfort. Snape would obviously be easier for him to hate than her mother. And on some level he did feel her mother was guilty. The anger and scorn there was clear. Surely if he believed without a doubt that her mother was a victim it wouldn’t be there. Wouldn’t it? Harriet hated to think Sirius might be the type to blame the victim.

Closing her eyes Harriet found she just wanted to rest. It had been such a long night. She did not have the energy needed to navigate this minefield.

She felt Sirius’ hand take hers and opened her eyes to see his sympathetic face. “Lily ended the affair once she found out she was pregnant with you. You gave her the strength.”

‘You gave her the strength to throw off the potion,’ Harriet translated. ‘You were the reason it didn’t continue on. You were her motivation for doing the right thing.’ Perhaps this is how Sirius accounted for how Snape could hate his own daughter so much. In this tale it was because of Harriet that Snape lost what relationship he had with his childhood love and that made her a hated person? Or did Sirius suppose it was because Lily chose James to be her father not him that fueled Snape’s resentment of her? Or maybe Sirius thought it was all a cover. One big lie to service a Slytherin’s ambition.

“Think about it Harriet. He’s been helping you with your symptoms effectively all while working under a false diagnosis? How does that make sense? He had to have known what was going on to have treated you so well. And if he knows what is going on, why would he lie if not to stop people asking questions?”

Suddenly Harriet found herself wondering if Sirius didn’t make a bit of sense. Hadn’t she had her own doubts about Snape’s treatment? And his Occlumency lessons, she’d been suspicious of them as well. He’d seemed to hate her on sight but since they began spending time together he seemed almost to care. Could it be?

Harriet fought off the desire to shake her head, knowing it would make Sirius think she was in denial which would only make him argue harder.

She wondered if people like Luna’s father and the Dark Lord’s followers had started out where she was now. If doubt, a desire for answers, and something that sounded possible had been enough to led them down the path away from rationality. But was Sirius’ hypothesis irrational? Harriet itched for answer. Quite literally. Along the back of her hand was itching terribly as well as her left shoulder blade despite the shower and treatments she had just gone through. Less literally she longed to dip into her wolly bag to try and divine the truths she wanted. She didn’t think Sirius would have the patience for it though. She certainly didn’t believe he’d take the word of divination if it contradicted his own beliefs.

Choosing to save her energy and tackle this all at a later date, Harriet engaged in the time honored tradition of changing the subject.

“How did Dad take it? Learning the truth?”

Sirius sighed. “He was upset, more at the lying than anything else. He loved Lily though. He would have forgiven her anything for only an apology and a promise not to do it again. She wanted to stay his wife and for him to be the father of her child and since that’s what he’d wanted all along that’s what they did.

“I wouldn’t lie. He didn’t love you right off. Lily didn’t tell him she was pregnant before coming clean, so he was processing everything along side finding out about you. But, he loved your mother so much that he knew in time he would love you too, if for nothing more than being a part of her. And he did come to. Feeling you kick for the first time I think helped to make it real for him. He became more enthusiastic about the pregnancy after that.

“It was after you were born though that the love really came. Your mom was completely wiped out from giving birth and just went on sleeping for most of the day after. With her out your dad was the first to feed you and burp you and hold you as you slept. He became completely smitten. We’d all thought there was no one he could love more than Lily but then you arrived. Her only rival.”

Sirius’ voice had become nostalgic as he spoke, filled with such fondness and love. His gaze were far away on memories of the past.

Harriet felt a tear run down her face. After how many she’d shed already she was surprised to have any left.

“Lily was one lucky witch. Whatever you needed your dad was happy to do it. Feed you. Bathe you. Deal with dirty nappies. You were his treasure. He had all these plans for how he was going to spoil you rotten,” Sirius said crying tears of his own.

Harriet released his hand to wrap him in a hug which he readily returned.

“I wish he’d have gotten the chance,” she said.

Sirius smiled sadly at the thought of what his friend missed out on. “He’d be happy for the spoiling John’s been doing in his place.”

Laughing wetly Harriet let herself cry in earnest.

For a while they just held each other as they dealt with their grief. Occasionally they shared words but for the most part it was just tears. When finally the tears ran dry Harriet felt rung out.

“Merlin, I’m so tired,” she complained into Sirius’ shoulder.

“You’ve had a long night,” he reminded her.

A long night indeed.

Chapter Text

Laying under a golden sky Harriet relished the cold she found herself surrounded by. Wiggling she pushed herself down deeper into the fluffy freezing wonderful bedding of snow beneath her. As the cold sunk in from around her the itch vanished from her skin while the hurt in her head and the wear on her body was leeched away. If she wasn’t quite so tired she would have rolled around in it like a pig in the mud without any shame at all.

She was so pleased with her circumstances that Harriet didn’t care to question where she was or how she had gotten there when she was meant to be at Grimmauld Place. Last she remembered she had been curled up while Padfoot kept guard at the foot of her bed to keep her company until she fell asleep. Then? Snow. Was she dreaming? Was that the answer? If it was indeed a dream Harriet didn’t want to wake up for a day at least.

“Mistress.”

Confused Harriet sat up to have a better look around to see where the sound had come from as she appeared to be alone.

At her side the tip of a serpent’s head emerged from the snow. With a flick of its tongue it tasted the air, brushing against Harriet’s thigh in the process. Satisfied with her examination Nagini continued to push her body up and free. Using Harriet for her perch she looped herself over Harriet’s shoulders several times to get as much of her body out of the snow as possible.

“It is cold Mistress,” Nagini complained as she nuzzled affectionately under Harriet’s chin. “Can we not go inside?”

Harriet sighed. She would prefer to stay outside, but she didn’t necessarily need to as the itch had subsided as well as her pains. It would be selfish of her to stay for her own enjoyment when the snow was quite intolerable to Nagini. “Yes, we can.”

Helping to support Nagini Harriet got to her feet. Once she was stable the snake further wrapped herself around Harriet until she was worn around Harriet’s shoulders and arms like a poncho. Once they were both satisfied with the arrangement Harriet looked around for a place to take Nagini where she could be warm.

Down at the bottom of the hill she spied a large cabin. The single level home was raised several feet above the snow with the roof standing at its highest point in the middle then extending out like an umbrella to cover everything including the porch which wrapped around all four sides of the building. She had no idea what color the roof might be under it’s coating of snow but what she could see of the rest of the structure was done in wood of a shade that she would call white had it not been made to look so dark when contrasted against the purity of the surrounding snowy landscape. Even the curtains were white though they glowed warmly with defused light from within.

The cabin was achingly familiar. Harriet could not remember having seen it before but something about the home gave her the same feeling she got when she saw Hogwarts again on returning from the summer holidays. As she grew closer those emotions only intensified. It felt like she might burst with the feeling of coming home.

The front and only door was made to look like a nest of snakes made from a variety of metals had all tangled together. At the edges they lay in such a way as to hide and disguise where exactly the door became frame, making the two one. There was no lock, no knocker, and no door nob with which to gain entry. It looked more like a work of art than a door but Harriet knew without a doubt that this was her way inside.

Reaching out she ran a loving hand over the snakes which had been made with such craftsmanship and attention. Under her touch they became animated. As they moved about the effect rippling out until every snake making up the door was imitating their living inspiration.

“Hurry up,” Nagini demanded of them.

The door hissed back at her wordlessly, a thousand different voices vocalizing their displeasure at being rushed while a new snake emerged from the mass. This snake was larger, almost the size of Nagini and made of Goblin steel. It pushed out from the others only enough to show its head with the rest of its body staying in place as it made up the bunk of the door. Without a sound the snake opened its mouth revealing two long sharp fangs. Reaching out to it Harriet simultaneously punctured a finger tip each on the fangs then allowed the steal snake to lick the blood from her fingers. As it worked to sample her blood and clean her wounds the ‘venom’ in its teeth worked to heal her. Only when her fingers were done bleeding did the snake stop cleaning her. As she pulled her hand back it closed its mouth to give a hiss to the others snakes. With the ‘lock’ having declared that she was allowed entrance the other snakes began to reposition themselves so that the door was no longer connected to the frame.

It was a gory measure to go through just to enter one’s home but the protection it offered against trespassers made it worth the trouble.

As the last snake moved into place the metal door swung in. A wave of air scented with fire, orange, and ginger wafted out in greeting as well as a soft glowing light which beckoned Harriet in.

Stepping inside the door closed behind them but Harriet wasn’t alarmed to be sealed in. Of all the places she’d been trapped this was by far the most pleasant. Nothing like her cupboard or Dudley’s second bedroom at the Dursleys'. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made of the same white wood as the exterior making what was already a good sized space feel even larger. The majority of the room she had entered into was designated as a sitting space. In the center were two large couches sat back to back. One faced her at the door which was framed by a large collection of windows on either side. The other faced a fireplace which dominated a good portion of the far wall.

It was a truly massive affair tiled in gold which glowed while helping to reflect light out into the room. It was so tall and wide that Harriet could have stood comfortably in it with Hagrid standing besides her, though he would have to crouch. Above and around it dozens of curved branches had been mounted to the wall. They all protruded out, some more than others but never more than a few feet before curving back in. A few led to cut outs in the wall just large enough to allow Nagini to comfortably pass through to the rooms beyond.

From below the fireplace worked to heat and light them while from above a strip of light was set into the ceiling. It was enchanted to look and feel like the sun shining down on the branches providing warmth and illumination as well. This feature had been designed and constructed for Nagini as a space for her to be with them while still being nurtured and receiving what she needed in this cold environment for the warmth by the fire did not extend far past the wall allowing the rest of the house to stay as cold as the snowy planes outside.

Nagini hissed with pleasure as they passed through the invisible barrier which held the heat back while Harriet frowned at the loss of the cold. Once they were close enough Nagini gave her Mistress a nuzzle of appreciation before eagerly leaving her for the superior warmth and comfort of her habitat.

With that taken care of Harriet found her eye drawn to the doors which stood an equal distance on either side of the fireplace leading to the rooms beyond. Moving to the left she opened the way to find a suite with a bedroom, closet, and bathroom but little else. There were windows though, dressing in white silk curtains that were pulled aside to reveal the view out to the landscape beyond showing its snow and golden skies.

Nagini moved through a hole cut in the wall into the room where her habitat extended so she could keep Harriet in sight as her Mistress explored the space. Disappointingly for Harriet there was little to find as Nagini’s perch was the only personal touch. The suite was an empty space waiting to be filled, giving nothing away about who it belonged too. There was a bed with crisp white sheets. There was a side table with nothing in or on it. The closet was bare of even a hanger. In the bathroom she found a tub with a shower attachment, a sink, a toilet, a towel, and nothing more.

Hoping for a different result Harriet left to try the mirroring door on the other side of the fireplace but got almost the same result. It was another suite, a mirror image of the opposite with a perch for Nagini then a bed with sheets, a bedside table, windows, a towel in the bathroom, and nothing in the closet.

With a frown on her face Harriet left the bedroom to return to the sitting room. Even here there was a lacking in signs of personality and the lived in sense most homes had. The one thing she could say about the owners was they seemed to have a thing for symmetry. By the front door, under the windows were two chests, one for either side, and each filled with blankets and pillows. Then by with the couches there was a large single plush white rug centered under the two, and a pair of matching end tables large enough to accommodate both couches at one placed to either side. The walls had no art but were lined with shelves which were bare but for a few books and a knickknacks. Cutting into the shelves were a pair of wide archways which sat mirroring each other which lead to two rooms which at least had slightly more personality.

The first Harriet investigated turned out to be an office of sorts. It used the same white wood from the other room and the white walls and shelves to line those walls. Unlike the others these shelves were filled with a mix match of small trunks and boxes expanded with wizards space to hold supplies. There were boxes for potion brewing, dueling dummies, alchemy, telescopes, and more. All were labelled and evenly spaced into their own proper space.

The ceiling was enchanted to show a replica of the solar system with their sun taking pride and place in the center of the ceiling and the rest of the galaxy around it giving the illusion that they could explore much farther. The sun provided a main light source with extra light coming from the other stars and the large windows which looked out at the world with the shelving having to be built around them. Centered under the sun sat a large table that was being used as a desk. Papers, ink pots, quills, and paperweights sat on the surface waiting to be used. Arranged to suit as seating was a large love seat which was placed to one side of the table facing the view provided by the windows.

Harriet checked the papers on the desk but found them to be blank. And after inspecting nearly half the containers in the room she grew bored with finding only vaguely interesting things.

Abandoning the office she went to investigate the last room of the home which turned out to be a kitchen and it was there she finally found a space that showed clear hints to the personality of those who use it.

Around the ceiling was a ledge on which a variety of plants, mostly herbs and edible flowers grew. Above them was another enchanted ceiling. At this time it presented as a clear night’s sky with a crescent moon and a vast wealth of stars the likes of which could not be seen in areas with any light pollution. Bellow this nights sky the kitchen was fully stocked from the ladder to the drawers and cabinets with everything needed to make a meal be it the food or all the cooking accoutrement. The plates, cups, and mugs on the shelves were mixed and matched with no two the same and divided to show two very different preferences. The silverware in the drawer was much the same. Half of the ware was fine quality china and silver which Harriet could appreciate but it did not capture her the way the others did, all handmade from different materials with their own individual feel.

Grabbing one of the mugs that caught her liking Harriet took it to the tea tray which was waiting off to the side on the kitchen table. Placing it down she picked up the kettle taking it to the tap. In this cold the pipes by all rights should have been frozen, but thanks to magic the water came when called. Once the kettle was filled Harriet returned it to the tray to bring the whole works back into the sitting room.

Lazily Nagini watched her from where she was happily settled on the branches. She’d arranged her long body so that sections would drape to hang in front of the fireplace. Harriet intended to make herself just as comfortable as the loyal serpent looked to be. Her bare feet luxuriated as she walked over the carpet which was one of the softest things she’d ever had the pleasure of touching. The cushioning under her feet was almost as nice as walking on fresh snow. It nearly tempted her to lay down on the floor. Instead she set the tea tray down on the end table and while standing set to work on making herself a cuppa. There was a metal dish waiting with twigs and some herbs and a box of matches to set it all alight but Harriet wasn’t interested in reading the flames or ash at the moment. She only wanted to relax. So skipping the fire she turned the lid on the kettle full circle triggered the warming charm spelled into it. In the time it took Harriet to prepare her leaves the water was boiling.

Once she had her cuppa prepared to her liking Harriet settled back to curl into the corner of the over stuffed couch which perfectly cradled her body in its comforting embrace. The arm was just of a height for Harriet to rest her head as she watched the fire and sipped her drink. All the while the cold of the room kept her body and skin soothed without a hint of itch. When her cup was drained she reflexively tilted it to read her leaves. Harriet was relieved to find it was not the familiar pattern denoting a change of fortune but remembrance and a time of reflection. That wasn’t something she had seen in her own cup before but she had seen it in others.

Placing the empty cup down on the tray Harriet found herself at a loss for what she should do next. She didn’t feel like reading or starting up a project in the kitchen or office.

“Rest Mistress,” Nagini enticed from were she watched above the fireplace. “Master will wake you when he arrives.”

Nodding Harriet curled more tightly into the couch and closed her eyes.

Just as she was nodding off she thought she heard Nagini telling her something but the meaning of the words didn’t register.

“The time has passed. Sleep Mistress, and remember.”

***

Harriet was dreaming only it wasn’t right. This wasn’t one of her normal dreams and that scared her. The last time she’d experienced a new kind of dream it led to visions of Voldemort through that snake of his.

With her heart beating fast she drew her wand. Turning around she took in the space she was in, looking for signs of trouble. It was a rather bare room. There was really only two ornate throne like chairs which sat empty and facing each other. They held little interest to Harriet compared to the door on the far side of the room. Rushing to it she tried to get it to open but she could not. There was no handle or nob. There were only snakes. A door made of metal snakes.

Harriet tried every spell she could think of to get the thing to budge. When that failed, she tried to break through the wall but nothing worked. Her last hope she supposed was that this was like the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Focusing on one snake in particular Harriet tried, “Open.” It sounded like English to her ears but then parseltongue always had.

The snakes did not respond to her. There was not a twitch or a sign of life.

Taking a deep breath Harriet centered herself before trying again. Willing with all her might that she would speak in parseltongue she demanded, “Open.”

Still nothing.

Harriet’s fear grew. She felt like a rat in a trap and she knew she needed to get out. Wherever she was it wasn’t meant to be. This place was unnatural. It wasn’t a thing created by her mind but something in her mind made by someone else and that wasn’t right at all. She didn’t know how she knew, just that she did. Just like she knew she needed to get out.

“Open please,” she begged the snakes.

To her immense relief this plea they seemed to respond to as they came to life.

As the door swung open Harriet intended on rushing through as soon as she could, but first she needed to take a step back to avoid being hit. And after that first step she took several more. For blocking the doorway was a giant of a man with icy blue skin, red eyes, and a familiar snake looped over his shoulders.

“Voldemort,” Harriet breathed as she leveled her wand on him.

He looked at her with naked sadness. “Hello Harriet.”

***

That memory faded and another played out only to be replace with something new once it was done. Things that had been suppressed were revealed, playing out in her mind as she worked through the series of memories that had been locked in this place for Harriet only to have access to while she was there and not when she was awake. Some things had leaked through. Some things she knew in a foggy distant way, but now they were coming back properly.

She remembered.

***

Voldemort sat on one throne while Harriet refused to take the one across from him. She chose to stand as he explained what had happened the night of his return. What he was. What they were. What he wanted them to be. His vision of the future. Harriet didn’t know if she should believe, could believe, but their connection along with her gift let her sense that what he was saying was true.

***

It was the same room only the contents had changed. A warm homey fireplace had been erected and rather than two thrones sitting opposed there were two much more comfortable looking high-backed reading chairs which were aimed towards the fire but at an angle as to encourage conversation. Harriet was much more willing to sit there than on a throne. So it was there she sat as Voldemort spent nights telling her of his past, letting her get to know him.

She still didn’t know if she should believe him. He had created this room as a place where they could meet and speak while Harriet slept without her being able to remember come the morning. It was a violation. It made it harder to trust him. And yet, when he spoke she could feel that he wasn’t lying to her.

It took some time before Harriet was willing to open up to him in the way he had to her.

It was an even longer time before she let herself fully trust him.

***

The room continued to change over the weeks. The walls lightened. A plush rug appeared on which the chairs sat with a table between them holding a tea set. However the tea and homey atmosphere did little to comfort Harriet as she watched Voldemort shrink and change into John. Her John. Only not her John. Her John wasn’t real. He was an illusion. A lie. She didn’t have a cousin. There was no family that wanted a place in her life. It was a lie. A lie.

Her emotions spiraled out of control and with them her magic was unleashed. It attacked the room, this room which would keep the truth a secret so she could go on living a lie.

“Harriet,” John- No, Voldemort said as he knelt at her feet. He was crying with her, looking as retched as she felt. And for all her heart was breaking and he was the reason for it, her magic wasn’t attacking because Harriet knew despite wanting to deny it that Voldemort loved her, he was hers, and she loved him. They may not be family in lineage, but they were blood. The idea of a cousin named John may have been a lie but it was a falsehood built on a genuine connection.

Sobbing Harriet let herself fall forward. Wrapping her arms around Voldemort she allowed him to give her the comfort she needed.

***

Harriet lived the days of her life not knowing that John was Voldemort but in these dreams, in this space she knew. Where waking Harriet would have been affronted by the suggestion she might work with and learn from Voldemort, here she let him teach and guide her. To accommodate these nightly lessons the space he created was expanded and divided to create two large rooms. One held the chairs and the fireplace and all else they had added with time including books and tools and a potion brewing station and a small kitchen for Harriet to teach Voldemort to cook when she needed a break and to be reminded that there were some things she knew better than him. Rare though they might be. The second room looked remarkably like that which the D.A. used in the Room of Requirement though transformed slightly to better fit their needs. It was there that Voldemort taught her spells and gave her dueling experience.

“You may not remember this while you’re awake, but you’ll have an easier time picking things up and making connections. Others will pass it off as natural aptitude. A quick study. You won’t have to spend as many waking hours to get the muscle memory you’ll need either,” Voldemort explained to her when they first began. “Then when the time is right we’ll release these memories back to you and you’ll see the full benefit of them.”

***

Months of dueling, months of practice, months of improvement and Harriet still wasn’t beating Voldemort. She was holding out for longer though.

This night she had managed to stand her ground for a full twelve minutes but she was waning and knew that soon she would loose, as she always did when he didn’t hold back. She’d given up on winning against Voldemort any time soon. Only just when she thought she had nothing left to give an opening presented its self. Voldemort’s hand was injured and if she could just-

“Expelliarmus!”

And it worked. To the shock of them both, it worked.

***

They were in front of the fire again, only this time on a couch. The room around them had continued its evolution to suit their desires and would continue to do so until they were satisfied with it.

Harriet had said nothing since waking in their private world and the other two were trying to give her the time to come to speak on her own terms. While they waited Nagini curled on Harriet’s lap offering her comfort while Voldemort offered relief, helping to rub her legs and feet which hurt daily thanks to her growing pains.

Finally Voldemort could take the silence no longer.

“What is it,” he asked her concerned.

“I’m not remembering my dreams.”

***

The space had finally become their own place. It wasn’t perfect yet but it was theirs. It up no longer felt like waking to a prison. It felt like waking up to home. They were trying things out, seeing what they liked. They’d added flooring and a proper kitchen had been made. There was more furniture as well.

The first feature they added however were windows. They found that inserting windows into the barriers helped to allow more of what happen in the space to leak through into her subconsciousness when she was awake. Unfortunately it didn’t help Harriet to remember normal prophetic dreams. This was a consequence Voldemort hadn’t intended when he set up the block on her memories and they did not know how to undo it without tearing everything down. They didn’t want one of them ending up dead because Harriet didn’t remember some warning divined while she slept. So for the time being they entrusted Nagini to monitor Harriet. When she felt Harriet fall asleep she used the connection between them to come and monitor Harriet’s dreams, keeping watch for things they needed to know.

In the meantime waking Harriet had provided them with the opportunity Voldemort had been waiting for. Snape was looking over Harriet and would hopefully get them definitive answers on some issues.

Laid out on the couch Harriet came too in this dream space to find Voldemort smiling at her.

“Good evening Harriet,” he welcomed.

She beamed at him and his own smile grew.

“Evening,” she said sitting up. Rubbing at her eyes she asked, “Good news?”

“Indeed,” Voldemort explained as he got to his feet to join her on the couch. Sitting side by side he told her about Snape, what his examination and tests had shown, and what the results of Voldemort’s own experiment had been.

***

There was a Christmas tree in the room. Harriet laughed uproariously at the site of the absurdly large spruce. It was so large that Voldemort had to raise the ceiling up to make room for it and Nagini could disappear as she moved about in the branches.

“Its perfect,” she declared. Together, the pair of them set about decorating it while discussing the surprise visit John and waking Harriet had that day with the Order.

From the top branches Nagini watched them like their own special breed of guardian angel.

***

“Absolutely not!”

“Harriet.”

“Absolutely not! You are not invading the Ministry!”

“If you would just listen to reason.”

“I will when you say something reasonable! There are innocent people there. They aren’t all bad. You can’t go risking them just to put on some farce! Do it somewhere else.”

“No one will be hurt.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“No, I can’t, but with your gift we can put the odds in our favor.”

Harriet crossed his arms to glare at him, “And how do you expect us to do that? No, hold that. Just how long have you been considering this?!”

***

Seemingly endless hours were spent in discussion and debate while divining and changing plans.

***

“What if I don’t stay on script,” Harriet worried.

Voldemort put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll put contingencies and tests in place. We’ll plan for success as well as failure.”

***

“No.”

“Harriet.”

“No. I don’t want Umbridge killed, or Wormtail for that matter. I want them to answer for their crimes. I want the truth to come out from their own mouths.”

Voldemort frowned deeply but he could see the conviction in her eyes. He’d been able to convince her of many things but on others she stood firm and when she would not be move he would relent, however mulishly.

Umbridge and Wormtail’s continued survival became a part of the plan.

***

Every night they had leading up to the day was spent going through the steps of their dance to ensure they had it down pat. They did played out their duel over and over again until it was time.

***

So many memories she hadn’t been able to recall when this place was locked away from her, but the door answered to her now. This was still a vault but Harriet was now free to access the things inside and incorporate them into her greater consciousness so she might remember them in her waking life. All the memories she made here were hers to have and recall even once she left. If she had been able to remembered sooner she would have had to lie and pretend in everything, with everyone and how they wouldn’t see through it. Now there were fewer lies to be told and secrets to keep.

With the world believing Lord Voldemort was however temporarily dead, things would be easier but they had left room enough that should there ever be a need the persona could be brought back. In the mean time and perhaps always, there would only be John. They would be John and Harriet to the world but in truth they were Harriet and Voldemort. Bound by blood, destiny, and love. Perhaps Dumbledore had the right of it all along. Maybe it was only love that could defeat the Dark Lord.

It was love that caused her Father to accept Harriet as his child and give her the name of Potter which put a baby able to survive a killing curse into place without which Voldemort never would have fallen and needed to return wanting to use Harriet’s blood to do it. And it was because of that blood he was able to find it in himself to love another for the first time in his life. It was only because of that affection he was willing to give up his ambitions. He was willing to put Harriet and what she wanted first.

Harriet could see it. She could see all the pieces and how they came together. She could see the role their pasts had played in bringing them to this point. As she pulled back to see what part she would play in the future she felt a change in the air, an awareness that someone was there.

Slowly, she woke.

At first she didn’t know what had disturbed her rest. Everything looked as it had been when she fell asleep. The room was cold but Nagini was contented above the fire which crackled away. Nothing was amiss that she could see. Only… The tea tray was missing? And as Harriet made to sit up she rubbed the blanket that covered her between two fingers. It was knitted of thick fuzzy yarn in Gryffindor gold and red. The blanket had been an gift from John- no, Voldemort that they found while in the Christmas market. Sirius had been the one to spell it for her to radiate cold rather than insulating her body heat. She didn’t need the cold here yet it was a familiar comforting weight… but had she had it before going to sleep? She couldn’t recall.

Off in the kitchen, the tap started to run. Without giving it much thought Harriet opened her inner eye. Even though this was not a physical space, the effect was much as she intended. Through the wall she could see inside to where Voldemort, in the guise of John was refilling the teapot at the sink.

Frowning Harriet sat up more fully. Pushing herself back into the corner of the couch she pulled her knees to her chin and readjusted the blanket around her so she might feel a little more shelter. With nothing left to fidget with she brought her hands under the blanket to cross her arms over her chest as she kept a watch an eye Voldemort was doing.

Watching him she felt conflicting emotions. On one hand this was the man who had killed her parents and done many horrible things, a man she fought and thought she killed some hours ago, but he was also the same man who had given her support when she needed it, who wanted her safe and happy. The man who had given up on being a Lord because he knew she could never be truly happy if he followed through on his goals to concur the world through violence, fear, and suppression.

When Voldemort returned to the room with tea tray in hand he did not seem surprised to find her awake.

“I remember,” she informed him, instantly ashamed at how meek she sounded.

“As you were meant to,” Voldemort returned as he came to join her at the couch.

Putting the tray down on the end table he started to make a cuppa for them both. His went into a piece of fine china and hers into her mug from earlier.

Harriet chose to watch the work rather than the man himself. “It’s not all there though. Or, it is, but I can’t recall everything?”

“You’ll need time for things the memories to integrate, but it will come. In the meantime, you have questions and I am here to answer them.”

He turned presenting Harriet her tea. As she looked up to smile at him in thanks she became captured by the severity of his expression.

“Whatever you want to ask, you ask Harriet. The more we talk about things, the more you think on what you’ve learned, the easier it will be for you to adjust. So asked me. Anything you want to know. Ask.”

“…There’s too much,” she confessed. “I don’t know where to start.”

Voldemort settled on the couch with his own cup of tea. “There is no right or wrong in this. Ask whatever is most prevalent in your mind at the moment.”

That was easy enough to figure out but still Harriet hesitated to voice what she wanted to. “Could you… Would you switch to your real form?”

Voldemort stiffened. For a moment his tea cup stayed paused half way to his mouth but then he was moving again as he did his best to answer calmly. “This is my ‘real’ form Harriet. As much mine as the other. Its existence is what inspired the idea of John, not the other way around. It is the equivalent to an animagus form. John is as much me as Padfoot is Sirius. The difference is only in name and form, not the person.”

Smiling slightly Harriet couldn’t help but to feel a bit endeared by his defensiveness.

“I know that,” she assured him. And she did. She knew it and with every moment her world view was adapting to this truth. “But I’m not sure what else I should call it.”

Only as she said that the answer came to her. Call it was it is.

Being cutesy sweet she asked, “Would you please transform into your Jotunn form?”

Giving Harriet a skeptical look Voldemort indulged her. In a reverse of the reveal Harriet could remember the look of a human and the familiar face of John transformed into the intimidating, alien, but captivating form of a Jotunn.

Harriet took him in with a careful eye before smiling.

His voice having changed with his form. Voldemort asked, “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m not scared. Just like I wasn’t scared at the Ministry,” Harriet explained truthfully.

Genuinely curious Voldemort asked, “And what were you feeling earlier?”

“Angry, worried… maybe a little resentful,” Harriet explained with a bit of flippancy as she did not like to linger on the memories given the new light she saw it in.

Voldemort smiled at her and even though the smile was on a different face Harriet could still recognize it as the same one she enjoyed bringing to John.

Moving to take a sip of his tea Voldemort frowned at the awkwardness of the delicate cup in his hand before shrinking back down to his human form, his robes transforming with him.

After his sip Voldemort repeated, “Angry, worried, and resentful. That sounds about right.”

Harriet frowned at him. “One thing I can remember is I didn’t like this plan. That you had to win me over to it.”

With the raising an eyebrow Voldemort needed no words to convey that this was not a question. But, for the stating of it Harriet was able to recall more things and the more she thought on them, the more clearly she could recall the details. Seeing her thoughtful expression he gave her the time to think it through.

When she got as far as she could on her own she turned a scolding look on him. “I didn’t want anyone getting hurt… well, anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

Sighing Voldemort rolled his eyes, his green eyes which were like hers and so much more like hers then she was used to. As she took note of this the answer came to mind. His eyes were her eyes, unmistakably the same, which is why he worked with Snape to create a potion which would transform the color slightly when he was presenting himself as John. However, here he didn’t have to pretend to only be a cousin. Here his eyes could be their natural hue.

“Harriet,” Voldemort asked calling her back. “Are you alright?”

Shaking her head, she dislodged her fixation. Forcing her face back to stern she looked at him. “Nothing important. What is important is that people did get hurt tonight which we agreed was to be avoided.”

“Hence your resentment. Yes, I am aware,” Voldemort returned before taking another sip of tea. “However what you have yet to remember is how despite your desire that no one get hurt, after many nights of arguing you realized that simply wasn’t practical, and when it comes to doing what’s best you are a pragmatist. Begrudgingly you set your desires aside. Once you came around to see that this was the most effective option for arranging my death while taking care of other troubles you agreed to allow the risk.”

“But not everyone who was hurt was an accident. Some of them you arranged it for. Some of it was part of your plan,” she pointed out having recalled that.

He looked back at her without guilt. “Concessions made on your part. You realized that most of those hurt would give informed consent if it meant getting the better future all of this was for.”

“And the others? I can’t imagine Rita Skeeter lining up to volunteer.”

“No, she would not,” Voldemort admitted becoming more reserved. “But in all your wisdom you knew there were some people I needed to see punished for their past transgressions against you. You had faith that I could restrain myself but you worried things would bottle up leading to unfortunate lapses later. You allowed me to dispense some small punishments in exchange for a promise that these resentments would be settled with the end of my reign as a Dark Lord.”

Hardly able to believe she was championing on Rita Skeeter’s behalf, Harriet challenged, “I hardly call a kidnapping, days imprisonment, and three cruciatus curses to be a small punishment.”

Voldemort’s expression went dark and his eyes murderous. “She deserved worse. Had it not been for her poison pen-”

“Someone else would have written the story,” Harriet finished for him.

Expression still dark his eyes challenged her while speaking in an even tone, “Written articles as persuasive as hers? Articles so perfectly constructed to prime the Wizarding World against you as early as your name coming out of the Goblet?”

No, no they would not. Harriet knew this but being reminded of Rita’s crimes against her did not effect Harriet’s sense of what was just and what was not.

Seeing she was unmoved Voldemort’s righteousness deflated leaving only his desire that Harriet understand and forgive him.

“I did not abuse your leniency. I did not take liberties,” he swore. “While it may have felt longer to Miss Skeeter she was held under the cruciatus for the blink of an eye if not less. The first was applied when she tried to use her animagus form to escape. The second when she was again detained to make certain she would not try again when it was another who would be capturing her and might take liberties when doing so.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t captured her days ahead of time.”

“She was overseas and I did not want to risk my people won’t return in time to be dealt with at the Ministry. There was also a hope that after what she’s endured she will perhaps be more conscious of what effects she has on others,” Voldemort explained with some of his spitefulness coming through.

“I thought the door was meant to be closed on these grudges. Wasn’t that the point?”

“The point was closing the door on getting revenge. It doesn’t completely erase my feelings. I cannot abide those who would hurt you or seek to use you for their own gains,” Voldemort said with passion.

This statement nudged Harriet to her next question. “Is that why you killed so many of your own Death Eaters during our duel?”

Because the death count that night had been high and almost entirely made up of the Death Eaters. Only a few hadn’t been part of Voldemort’s forces- Harriet went over the names she’d been told at the Ministry and found she knew more about them than she had earlier. All had been Dark supporters or involved in some very evil things which Voldemort discovered through his people, their contacts, and the investigations he’d been carrying out into the underground of the magical world. One slave trafficker, a man who hunted muggles for sport, and others like them had died before seeing another morning. It didn’t thrill Harriet. She would have preferred something more than simply killing the threat but there wasn’t justice to be found from the Ministry at the moment. She’d thought about it before, that she wouldn’t wish dementors on her worse enemy, and that’s what Azkaban was. A place to be torture by Dementor, confinement, and solitude.

“Some of the Death Eater’s I killed were due to the threat they posed if they escaped custody or manipulated the system to get their freedom. A few I dispatched for what they knew. Alternatively some I ensured would survive to share what they knew with others.” Turning away Voldemort looked off into the fire. “Some I ended out of mercy.”

Yes, Harriet remembered this. They had talked many times about the new emotions that had stirred in Voldemort since his rebirth. His care and love and sympathy had at first only been for himself and Harriet, then Nagini and eventually Hedwig as well, but most surprisingly in later months he’d found himself having similar though much less intense feelings for some others as well. Both human and not. When they had been planning this night Voldemort found himself upset about leaving some of his most loyal to return to Azkaban where they would wait for him to come for them which he had no intention of doing.

Given the damage the Dementors had already inflicted on her Bellatrix had been one of these. Harriet recalled Voldemort teaching her the spell which had killed the witch and together in the safety of her mind they had practices for him to be able to deflect it at a predictable arc.

But it hadn’t just been Voldemort killing off his followers. Harriet had played her part in it. However unknowing it was at the time, there was no arguing it wasn’t premeditated. She was the gun with Voldemort aiming her. She’d trained for it. He made certain that she would only use spells that were not illegal but certainly were deadly with most only not in the law books because they were spells known to a select few. Harriet had played an active role in those deaths. She may not have killed Voldemort that night, but she was a killer. That they were mercy killings was a cold comfort. What was worse was knowing she had killed wasn’t what most upset her.

“I could have killed you,” Harriet said.

Reaching out Voldemort took her hand. “You could not. I was never at risk. I was never in the atrium.”

“What,” Harriet asked thoroughly confused as the answers waited in the back of her mind but she could not pull them forward.

“I want to be the boogie man. For the legend of Lord Voldemort to inspire fear and bring change. What I do not want is an active manhunt. For that to happen they needed to believe I am dead but can could return. An illusion might have worked but I wanted solid evidence. The most effective way to leave behind remains was to bring a body I was willing to sacrifice.” At Harriet’s concerned look he was quick to assure, “Not my own, and not that of an innocent. I used some very old and highly illegal dark magic on several cadavers I collected. Bodies once belonging to those who died natural deaths. They were even informed what their bodies would be used for and given a handsome sum to spend themselves or leave to their love ones. The man who arranged this for me was in the business of procuring such ‘raw materials’ from the willing and unwilling alike, for the right price. He fell to my wand last night. No other knows what I was doing and his business has died with him.”

“And what is it you were doing with a bunch of dead bodies exactly?”

“I made two golems from the flesh. A work of necromancy and alchemy combined, similar in many ways to the process which goes into making inferi.”

Harriet frowned in distaste but Voldemort ignored it.

“From there I used sorcery to astral project myself into the vessel and take root there allowing my magic to channel through the golem as my consciousness controlled it. The second golem I made to take my place as John, out with my mentor for drinks and socializing with those hoping to help sway my loyalty to Fudge’s side.” Voldemort rolled his eyes. “I needed to focus my attention on the Ministry so that golem had to have some ability to it. I arranged for everyone to think I was very tired to explain a lack of response on my part and once the golem was feigning sleep they left it be until I was able to come take its place.”

Harriet didn’t know what to ask first. She was at the point of having too many questions again.

“Have I overwhelmed you?”

“A bit,” she admitted. She went to take a sip of her tea to buy some time. Thinking back over everything that happened in the Atrium one question did rise above the others. “Why couldn’t I tell it wasn’t you?”

She’d been looking at him with her inner eye open yet Harriet never suspected that she wasn’t facing off against the genuine article.

“The quality of my golem helped but you would not have been deceived had you remembered seeing me in that form with your inner eye before. You would have spotted the differences and known there was a deception taking place. Instead any peculiarities you saw were written off as coming from my being a Jotunn. A being you had no frame of reference for.”

Harriet thought about that along with everything else.

As she thought Voldemort finished his tea. Part of Harriet itched to read the leaves and this was an itch she did not intend to restrain herself from indulging. Thinking of that led her to her next question.

“Do you know why I’ve actually been having this problem with being itchy all the time,” she asked reaching out for his empty cup which he handed over without a fuss. What the leaves had to show was rather boring. A time of productivity approaching. That was hardly news. As far as she could tell Voldemort was always busy with something.

“From what Severus and I have been able to discover we speculate it is merely a phase of puberty. Not unlike acne, or one’s voice breaking. We believe you will grow out of it in due time, but with how long Jotunn live for we are not sure how long that might be for you as a mixed race,” Voldemort admitted, displeased by his ignorance.

Harriet thought of the doubts she’d been having and the conversation she had with Sirius about his suspicions. “Snape knew the truth then?”

“He did, however we wanted Dumbledore kept in the dark which required that Snape keep your waking self in the dark along with everyone else.”

None of this was ringing a bell just yet though that did make Harriet wonder about what she could remember and what she could not. It seemed the things she didn’t want herself to know where having the hardest time coming back. But that was something she could dissect later. For the moment she had more immediate concerns.

“How much do you trust Snape,” she asked.

Voldemort looked concerned by the question and read to do harm depending on the reasoning behind it. “I trust him more than I trust anyone but you and Nagini. With you, it is loyalty that moves me. With Nagini it is her loyalty to me. With Snape it comes from knowing him, and knowing the measures I’ve put in place to ensure he does as I desire.”

“Does he know what we’ve done?”

“No.” Voldemort spoke with certainty. “Only you, I, and Nagini know of this and we have only spoken of it here, in the connection between our minds. Even if someone were to access our memories they would be unlikely to understand what was said, given that it has all been in parseltongue.”

“In parseltongue,” Harriet asked. As she spoke she was able to pick up a hint of a hiss. She looked to Nagini but the snake was silent in her observance of their conversation.

“Yes, that was you,” Voldemort confirmed, looking at her with fondness. He did not bother to hide his smile or to force it away. “When you know Nagini is present you naturally switch to speaking in parseltongue. We have theorized you unconsciously desire for her to be able to understand everything so she might not feel frustrated that she cannot. We have tried to help you have conscious control over it but so far our efforts have not been very successful.”

Again there were so many questions but Harriet pushed them to the side for the moment. If Voldemort was to be believed those answers would come to her on their own soon enough. What she wanted to discuss now likely would not.

“So Snape doesn’t know that you faked your death,” Harriet had to check.

Voldemort hummed. “He does not know, but he will suspect. He has been the closest to seeing the true change in my motivations. He is also the most aware of what I have been doing since my return, though he is far from knowing all of it. He is not a fool. He knows there has been more going on. Things he wasn’t privy to. He will suspect there was a greater plan for tonight than what the rest were told. Because of this he will consider the possibility that faking my death for your sake was what I intended all along.”

“And you wanted that,” Harriet said almost able to grasp her memories which told her that was the right of it.

“Yes. If Severus believes this was all according to plan it will keep him on edge, wondering what further part I expect him to play. This will ensure he continues to do as I instructed. He will look after you. He will keep your secrets. Among other things.”

Harriet couldn’t help but frown. “And here I was thinking he might actually be coming to like me.”

Voldemort looked at her with sympathy. Only… not just sympathy for her but for Snape as well. “Oh, he has. Over the last months he’s learned to see you as more than your father’s daughter. He now sees you for who you truly are. Once that happened he could not help but to care.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

With a pinched brow Voldemort stated, “This is not a line of questioning I was expecting from you.”

Fidgeting Harriet countered, “You said you’d answer any questions I had.”

Brow still pinched he considered her before responding. “That I did.”

They stared at each other. Harriet tried to keep herself blank while Voldemort worked to read her. After a time, he carefully answered her question. “I have Snape bound under several unbreakable vows. He is sworn to answer me with honesty and I have interrogated him thoroughly several times over as well as asking him questions when he gave reports. I believe I know his character. I believe he cares for you.”

“And would unbreakable vows work the same on a Jotunn as a wizard,” Harriet asked, feeling foolish for perusing this but needing to know.

Finally, Voldemort looked properly thrown by her. “I cannot say that I know, but given the nature of an unbreakable vow I would assume so. Harriet, what is this about?”

She let out a gusty sigh. “One more question, then I’ll explain,” she requested.

“Then ask your question.”

“Well… actually two questions,” Harriet said having thought about it.

An eyebrow was raised at this amendment but Voldemort did not argue.

“Do you actually believe my- our Jotunn heritage came from the Potters?”

Frowning Voldemort responded, his speech made faster than previously by his impatience for his own answers. “At first I was not certain but I found a spell that would allow me to know. I cast it on you myself during our Valentine’s visit. Your Jotunn heritage comes from your paternal parent. I have theories as to why the Potter’s never shared knowledge of this heritage with others but no evidence to support them. It does however work well for us as I will be able to show an inheritance as John without drawing too much suspicion. Now, what is your second question.”

Harriet had intended to ask if Snape played a part in leading Voldemort to his belief that the Potter’s carried a being inheritance but his answer made that question redundant. Instead she decided to use her second question to give herself some amusement. “What would you say the odds are that Snape is my biological father?”

Dumbfounded. With a single question she had reduced Voldemort the once horrifying Dark Lord to staring at her completely dumbfounded.

Once he recovered his expression turned stormy. “Explain.”

“Sirius and I had a talk before I went to sleep. I told him about what happened.” A memory though hazy came forward. Uncertainly Harriet said, “I think that was part of our plan? That I talk to him and Dumbledore and a few others so I could share the story with them while I still couldn’t remember the truth? That way I wouldn’t be lying or hiding anything when I told them. Then I would have those conversations under my belt for talking about it once I did remember so I could recall how I said it when I didn’t know?”

“Yes,” Voldemort agreed and Harriet nodded, pleased with her returning memories.

“Well, we had our talk but that didn’t go according to any plan of ours. When I was telling him about the Jotunn thing I asked if he’d known there was a being inheritance in the Potter blood and he clammed up. Long story short, he knew it wasn’t the Potters I got the inheritance from.”

“It couldn’t have been your mother,” Voldemort proclaimed. “My spell gave clear results. Your father was the one to pass this to you.”

“He was, but James Potter wasn’t my father.”

Voldemort’s eyes widened with surprise before tightening. Sitting forward he said, “I think I need more than the short version.”

Harriet frowned thinking of how many things she had already explained in the last twelve hours. She was ready to resign herself to another lengthy speech when inspiration struck.

“We’re in my head aren’t we,” Harriet asked.

Confused and frustrated by what he saw as another turn from answering on her part Voldemort answered tersely, “Yes.”

“So can I just show you the conversation we had?”

Voldemort considered it then turning towards the front door he said, “I think we can.”

Turning as well Harriet saw a Pensive had appeared, sitting in the center of a clear stretch of the floor.

Rising Voldemort held his hand out to her. Putting her tea down Harriet took it allowing Voldemort to leverage her up onto her feet.

Nagini hissed from her perch wordlessly communicating her desire.

Harriet folded her blanket and set it on the couch before walking over to collect Nagini from her perch so that the serpent could be carried over rather than having to make the journey herself over the cold floor. Meanwhile Voldemort made his way to the pensive to check that it would work. By the time Nagini and Harriet joined him he had viewed his own memory and safely returned.

“Have we never done this before,” Harriet asked.

“No, but then our interest was generally in getting to know and learn from one another by speaking.”

Harriet nodded. “So how do I do this?”

“Close your eyes,” Voldemort instructed.

Harriet obeyed.

“Imagine the memory in the pensive for viewing.”

“Just imagine it,” Harriet asked intrigued.

“Magic is guided by will and this is never more true than in one’s own mind. Imagine it and it will be.”

Concentrating Harriet pictured it. Everything she wanted to share condensed and given form in the pensive to be viewed.

“You can open your eyes.”

Obeying Harriet looked down. She saw the memory as she imagined it to be. “Well, that was easy.”

“Shall we,” Voldemort asked holding out his hand to her again.

Harriet frowned at him. Beseeching she asked, “Do you mind if I stay behind?”

Acting put upon but truly not Voldemort dropped his hand. “I suppose you’ve earned a rest.”

“Nagini,” Harriet asked.

“Yes,” she answered knowing what Harrier was wondering. Already she was moving to Voldemort so she might join him in viewing the memory.

Once she was free of Harriet the pair of them leaned into the pensive and disappeared from the room she presumed to be transported to another part of her mind for viewing.

As she returned to her seat the suite doors caught Harriet’s attention. If this was only a construct in her mind why did there need to be bedrooms? Or bathrooms for that matter. Why all the details while remaining empty? In her last memory of training there with Voldemort the night before those rooms had still been one large dueling space modeled after the Atrium for practicing their dance.

Settling back into the corner of the couch Harriet concentrated on dredging up the answer.

When Voldemort came out of the memory he looked deep in thought. Harriet decided she could be a little bit patient and hold off asking questions while he rolled over her conversation with Sirius.

She held her tongue as Voldemort moved to return Nagini to the heat of her perch before coming back to the couch. Once he was settled she moved her feet into his lap which he accepted absently as his mind was still focused on what he had just viewed. Automatically he started to rub her feet. As he did his hand transformed becoming Jotunn blue. His touch radiated with the kind of cold which Harriet could usually only find through Luna’s freezing curse.

“Snape is not your father,” Voldemort declared as he continued to think on what they had learned.

Harriet was relieved. “You’re sure?”

“Not only would he have been compelled to tell me, but I’ve used his blood for several rituals. The blood had to be human to succeed and they did succeed.”

Harriet chose to put asking what those rituals were exactly on the back burning. “Not Snape then.”

“Not Snape.”

She looked off at the fire. In a way, she might have preferred to discover it was Snape. He was a man she respected and one who had miles of motivation not to hurt her. Voldemort trusted Snape because he was a known variable. Whoever her mysterious sire was, they knew very little about him. He was a wild card. He could be harmless or he could be a threat they had little idea how to prepare for.

Shaking her head Harriet forced those concerns onto the back burner. Later she could worry about her family history, what her mother had done, and who her sire might be because despite the fact she was in actuality sleeping, Harriet was tired.

Taking in Voldemort’s contemplative expression she asked him, “This place, it’s real isn’t it? I mean in the physical world. It’s based off something? Or something is based off of it?”

“Yes,” he answered distractedly as he was still thinking on other matters.

Pointing her toe Harriet poked him in the stomach to get Voldemort’s attention more solidly on answering her questions.

He smiled at her apologetically. “With Umbridge polluting Hogwarts you came to the same understanding I did when approaching my graduation. You realized that while Hogwarts had given you your first experience of having a home, it wasn’t permanent. You started grieving and your grief stirred my own. After that this space which guards our connection and the memories attached to it began to transform more noticeably into something like a home. Your true present at Christmas was my informing you that I was building a house for us based off this space. A home. Our sanctuary where we can be ourselves without having to worry. It was completed some weeks ago. From now on this space will model itself based on our latest memory of the actual building.”

Turning, Harriet took in the house with new eyes. “Where is the real one?”

“In the Arctic, where the temperatures will be to our liking and we’ll be far enough away that no muggle or wizard will stumble upon it.”

As wonderful as that sounded Harriet couldn’t help but to frown. “But that’s so far away. How will we get there? By portkey?”

Smiling proudly Voldemort reached into his pocket and pulled out what Harriet first thought to be a chunk of gold with two protruding circles. It was only as he slipped them onto his fingers that Harriet realized it was a ring.

“No matter how Dark or Forbidden the Ministry very rarely destroys those things which are seized by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Instead they send them down to the Department of Mysteries to be studied or saved for a rainy day. This is one such item. One of dozens kept, all of which ‘went missing’ during my occupation of the Ministry.”

Harriet’s eyes widened. “That’s what you were doing while the golem held your place waiting around in the Minister’s office for people to arrive. You were raiding the Department of Mysteries.”

“That I was,” Voldemort admitted proudly. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in him. Indeed he radiated smugness as he held up the ring to put it on display, tilting it back and forth to allow the fire light to dance along the surface. “Everything I wanted, I got and more. Though it will take them some time for them to realize the full extent to the damage done. Once they do they will try to find what was lost. Along the way they’ll uncover the breadcrumbs I left them to several problems and threats I want known to the public. In the meantime what items they have banned needlessly we can put to use. The truly dangerous ingredients and artifacts the Ministry irresponsibly kept will be destroyed.”

“And which is that,” Harriet asked tilting her head at the ring.

Smiling even more widely Voldemort raised his hands with purpose. As he began to move his right in a slow circle a mimicking circle of angry sparking magic spit into existence a few feet from them. In the center came a view of the ocean. The sight. The sounds. The smell. All of it was felt completely real. It was no illusion but the real thing or rather a memory of the real thing playing out in Harriet’s mind.

She could only stare.

Enjoying the view as well Voldemort reached out blindly to take her hand in his own and squeeze.

“I’ve promised you we will see the world. This,” he said again brandishing the bit of gold on his fingers, “is how we’ll start. They are called sling rings. They create a portal connecting two places. Created by sorcerers but in the hands of a true magical being we are what powers them rather than the universe. A completely safe mode of transport so long as they are stable.

“Best of all their use is undetectable by wizarding kind and without using sorcery it is almost impossible to block their access. It was because of this and not because they were dangerous that the Ministry made them illegal. They are also how the Sorcerers often escape capture by our hit wizards. Beyond being good at hiding, they can also run. Anywhere they want to go, they can. With enough power feeding its use they can go anywhere they wish with a single step. And that ability is ours now. I know you thought we’d have to wait until you graduated to see everything, but I’m far to impatient for that. You deserve to go and do as you wish Harriet. Now you can. The world is yours for the asking,” Voldemort swore.

Chapter Text

From his desk Dumbledore admired the view outside his office window. It was his long held belief that Hogwarts’ grounds were at there most splendid during the height of the summer season. He regretted that most of her students never saw the castle at this time. Alumni could arrange visits in the summers but rarely took advantage of it as this was not a widely known privilege. Dumbledore had encouraged this ignorance in the name of security after Tom’s interview all those years ago. He felt it wouldn’t do to risk someone bringing dark artifacts onto the grounds or placing curses as Tom had done. Because these souls could not be trusted all had to do without.

Keeping his focus on the splendor of Hogwarts at the start of July helped Dumbledore to endure the pain of Severus’ examination of his hand. It was only when the work was finished that he allowed his attention to return to what was happening in his office.

Looking to Severus’ expression told him everything he needed to know.

“The curse progresses then.”

Grim faced as always his potion Master agreed, “I’m sorry Headmaster but-”

“It will claim my life,” Dumbledore said sparing Severus from saying it.

“Yes.”

Dumbledore frowned. Looking down at the black withered flesh of his right hand he allowed himself a moment of melancholy and fear. He let himself feel it as the last ember of hope he had fostered was snuffed.

With his eyes still on his hand the dying man requested, “If you do not mind, I believe I would like some time to myself.”

But Severus did not acquiesce. He remained, silent and watchful.

Raising his head Dumbledore looked away from the evidence of his weakness to study the still relatively young man who stood studying him in return. There was a range of emotion Severus was looking to suppress of which Dumbledore could only catch glimpses and guess the motivations behind. It was a sign of how affected Severus was that any emotion showed at all on the capable spies face. Despite all his experience death was something which could still effect him.

No matter these feeling, in the end Severus said very little.

“Very well,” he allowed, finally accepting Dumbledore’s request. With great self discipline Severus collected his supplies in an orderly fashion. Unhurried but not lingering he proceeded before taking his leave.

Pausing at the door he looked back to hold Dumbledore’s gaze for a moment. Allowing his sincerity to show he said, “I am sorry Headmaster,” before making his exit.

Sighing, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

Turning his head to the side he returned to looking out at the view.

Hogwarts in the summer. He wondered if this would be the last he experienced it or if perhaps he might live long enough to see it again the coming year. He thought he might. If he was careful. Certainly more careful than he had been to put himself in this position.

Dumbledore had thought himself grown in his old age but it seemed his faults had not faded alongside his youth. The lore of the Deathly Hallows and their abilities still called to him. Having what he thought was the stone in hand, he ignored the wisdom of caution and put the ring in which it was set on his finger allowing the curse which would claim his life to take possession of the limb. He had not even shown the forethought to risk his non-dominate hand. As such not only would his mistake be the death him but in the months to come his wand hand would be all but lost to him as using it for casting would only speed along the curse.

What made his failure worse to bare was that in the end it was not the resurrection stone he had found. The stone and the ring had proven to be a ruse, left behind to mock him or any other who came looking. Dumbledore suspected that once the true ring had rested in the Gaunt home. He believed that it had been moved by Tom, likely after his return to the living. If he had thought to collect one of his hocruxes he had likely collected the others as well. Taking them to where, Dumbledore did not know, leaving him at a loss as to where he should search.

Outside the sun shined brightly on the peaceful landscape. In the distance Hagrid could be seen making the long trek from the castle down to his hut. Their Care Professor and Grounds Keeper had returned to Hogwarts alongside Dumbledore to much celebration despite the relatively short time they had been away. Grawp however remained at the property Mister Potter had procured for him.

When Hagrid returned from his mission with his half brother Dumbledore had hoped that things would work out for them, that love and family could prevail. His optimism it seemed was not misplaced in this matter for according to Hagrid Grawp was improving in his understanding of English and in matters of ‘knowing his own strength.’ Sadly his hopes that perhaps between himself and Severus they would come up with something to deal with the curse had not born such fruit.

Dumbledore had known all along that there might be little they could do to keep him alive. He had begun to accept that he would be dying by telling himself that what mattered was not his impending death but the work that would need to be completed in the days he had left. Thankfully some of these matters had been resolving themselves since the events at the Ministry with little effort on his part.

He had gone with the aurors to Malfoy manor as to assure Narcissa knew that she had no need to keep up her cover. Beyond their initial conversation he had not been allowed to speak with her nor to take part in the raid. Narcissa was taken into custody where she told the Aurors all they needed to know about the manor before beginning their raid. The damage wrought to the home by the Dark Lord shocked even the seasoned members of the auror forces. What they found in the dungeon even more so. Members from all walks of magical society -witch, wizard, and other- had been kept by the Tom. Many of those who had gone missing over the last year were there to be found with tales of horror to share.

At the very back of cells kept on his own was Peter Pettigrew. Once he was sat at the interrogation table the former Order member shared all regarding his involvement with the Dark from spying on the Light and betraying the Potters to escaping justice and living as Scabbers with the Weasleys, the events at Hogwarts after Sirius’ escape, and bringing about the Tom’s resurrection. With his confession acquired Peter faced justice under Ministry law. While he headed to Azkaban Sirius’ name was finally cleared though he refused to hand himself over until declarations were made that he was forgiven for escaping custody not once but twice and being an illegal animagus.

It was Harriet who ensured he, Narcissa, and Snape would face no persecution and she managed this by arranging an interview with Rita Skeeter.

Since the attack on the Ministry Miss Skeeter had been championing Harriet while leading the cry for justice. She worked relentlessly to rile the public into pushing with her for harsher sentencing not only on Death Eaters but for supports of the Dark and those who had made the Ministry weak to them. She called not only for time in Azkaban but also an attack on the legacy of the guilty. While the Ministry was doing an admirable job of investigating matters Rita was working to dig up what even they couldn’t with a particular focus on the short comings of the Ministry in the past and how corruption had allowed the Death Eaters to push their agendas. She correctly pointed out that had the Death Eaters been without funds they would not have been able to bribe officials to further their cause. She wanted all Dark supporters left with little to their name. The only exceptions she made were for Narcissa and Severus who she portrayed as champions after learning from Harriet of their work for the Light.

Severus was being praised across the country for his efforts in training Harriet to duel and his work as a spy. He was a hero in the eyes of many though it made his work as a Professor at Hogwarts difficult. Among the children and family of the Dark he was looked down on as a traitor and their resentments were only made worse by how many had suffered loses with people they cared for either sent to the grave or Azkaban after their Lord’s fall. The others in the student body found it hard to believe that their Potions Professor could actually be on the side of the Light but Harriet’s friends in the D.A. defended him and brought public opinion around with their accounts of all the help he had been not only to Harriet but to all of them. Without Harriet in the school it was her friends who were her voice and so the other students listened to them accordingly.

Per John’s recommendation Harriet had been kept away from Hogwarts after her ordeal. The only ‘public’ appearances she made had been for Rita’s interview, to give testimony before the Wizengamot, to see Sirius’s public pardoning, and lastly to take her O.W.L exams. The rest of her time had been spent in the safety of Grimmauld Place until a few days prior when she moved to Privet Drive where she would remain for three weeks before returning to her Godfather’s home for the rest of the holiday.

Over all, Dumbledore was proud of how well Harriet had been handling herself in the last months. It made him optimistic that she would be able to stand with composure under the burden that would pass from his shoulders to hers as a leader of the wizarding world.

Having defeated Voldemort was already putting influence in her hands. Influence that she would need in the future. It would be Dumbledore’s priority to teach her how to wield it responsibly. He had desired that Harriet have as normal a childhood as she could, unaffected by her fame, but that was not a luxury that could be afforded going forward. With his dying it would fall to her to guide otherwise another might do so and lead people astray. Dumbledore would supervise Harriet’s rise to insure she was on the right path while surrounding her with those who could give her the support she needed while keeping her grounded.

Perhaps if he had heeded his own brother the world they lived in would be unrecognizable for its improvements.

However Harriet was not him. She did not long for power but for peace and justice. During all her years at Hogwarts she had proven this many times over. Imbalance and favoritism grated her even when it fell in her favor. She had argued against being put on the quidditch team for some time, only giving up on complaining when McGonagall gave her a month of detentions to go along with her appointment to the team. Of course she then expected Draco to receive the same as well as a lecture for taking what wasn’t his.

Dumbledore chuckled at the memory but his fond recollections turned sour with the thought of the troubles this sense of justice might cause Harriet in the real world. Sometimes, for the greater good, compromises had to be made. Dumbledore felt uncertain she would be able to handle that. It was one of the many things he would have to ensure Harriet learned before his passing.

Voldemort would be back and when he returned Harriet would have to stand against him. This second death bought her more time to prepare but the day would come. The war would begin again, of that Dumbledore was certain. When the time came Harriet would have to make a stand. His thoughts grew morose as he thought of what she might have to sacrifice to see this done.

Dumbledore would do all he could to see to it Harriet was in a position of stability and power before stepping into his shoes. He would help her until there was no longer the strength in him to do so. The first step would be regular visits to Privet Drive to begin her lessons. When the time came that the blood protections were satisfied magical training could begin in secrecy behind headquarters' wards. Sirius, Remus, and Moody would all be helping to supplement his teachings with Severus taking over for them once the school year started, continuing where he had left off in Harriet’s tutoring. With some convincing Dumbledore expected the other Professors would be willing to lend their time as well. Harriet had never been a bad student but they would need more from her going forward. She would have to become what the world was going to need from her which would require many sacrifices along the way.

While Dumbledore was considering his plans for Harriet, Snape was in his chambers considering the plans others might have for the girl.

It was his suspicion that what happened at the Ministry was the Dark Lord’s design. Snape could not say if every detail had played out to Voldemort’s liking but he expected more was in the Dark Lord’s favor than less.

For almost a year he’d been a puppet maneuvered as Voldemort desired just as all the others had. Snape had no illusions about that. As far as he was aware he had been entrusted with more information than the others but that by no means meant he was the Dark Lord’s confident. He was given only what information Voldemort felt he needed to best see to his duties. Nothing more. However he had the insight to know that whatever understanding the outside world thought they knew about the Dark Lord was laughable.

The man -if one dared call him that- presented himself in a way that was designed to be misinterpreted. He was the quintessential master manipulator playing with others who thought the game was limited to a chest board with its universally recognized set of rules. As such Severus would not claim to know with certainty why the Dark Lord had allowed his defeat at Potter’s hand but he had little doubt that it had been his choice. Any lingering doubts he might have entertained were extinguished by the accounts of that night.

The press reported verbatim every word that the Dark Lord had preached at the Ministry and it had been Voldemort that ensured they would be able to. He brought them in. He gave them an aurors’ dictation quill with which to take notes. He brought the cameras and told them which moments to capture. Lord Voldemort wanted these words known. While others saw the sentiments expressed as boasting or gloating Severus saw them for what they were. Motivation. Every word Voldemort spoke that night was designed to point out the failings of the past so they would not be repeated.

The only motivation for why Voldemort would do this that Severus would dare to gamble on was Harriet. Since his return the Dark Lord had been obsessed with the girl. One might go so far as to say he was parental with his focus on seeing her well and looked after. What better way to set the girl up for a bright future than to systematically weakened the Dark to near extinction then pose her as the next Dumbledore, a defeater of Dark Lords and beacon for the Light.

Only a few had thought to consider the possibility that the Dark Lord had arranged his death. Narcissa and Dumbledore were the only ones Severus had heard speak of it.

After his dealings at Malfoy Manor Dumbledore had come to Hogwarts to seek out Severus and whisk him away before the Aurors could come for him. They proceeded directly to headquarters where the first order of business had been that of the Headmaster asking to see Severus’ Dark Mark which shockingly to Severus had turned a shade of icey blue and cold to the touch, something previously unheard of. When he asked for answers he received a limited explanation of what had happened at the Ministry and of the ‘revelation’ of Miss Potter’s mixed being status.

When Dumbledore asked Severus about his misdiagnosis he confessed that there had been no mistake at all. He told the Headmaster of his knowing the truth all along but having been ordered and bound by vow to provide a different answer to the Order. Dumbledore questioned him further to learn what he could about what had been hidden by Severus’ vows. By the end his trust in Snape still stood. The one he found fault with was himself for not keeping track of things more personally when he knew Snape was compromised due to his work as a spy. While Snape had outwardly maintained a passive facade on the inside he was fuming with the Headmaster for not learning from his mistakes and looking more deeply at the current situation. For while Snape claimed to be free of his vows he was decidedly not. The explanation he had given was the one fed to him by the Dark Lord to be used should the truth of Harriet’s condition be discovered. Whatever ‘death’ Lord Voldemort had suffered did nothing to free Severus from his vows and the orders previously given to him.

With that matter settled Dumbledore laid down his own instructions for how Snape was to proceed going forward before they left the privacy of the Black Library so he might return to Hogwarts and be taken into Auror custody.

However Hogwarts and Dumbledore’s plan had to be put on hold as waiting for them in the kitchen had been the mutt all but frothing at the mouth. Black demanded to know how Snape could have been so mistaken in his diagnosis to which Dumbledore claimed he had been the one to ask Snape to lie. In a rare showing Sirius presented his anger with the Headmaster while telling him that if he’d thought to ask he could have gotten answers sooner.

“You know something of Harriet’s heritage,” Dumbledore asked.

Black nodded, cutting a guilty look to Lupin.

What followed was a tale that seemed utterly absurd to Severus as the mutt claimed that not only had Lily cheated on Potter but had continued to do so even after they were married. The one thing Snape found himself agreeing with the dog on was that it had to have been the work of trickery. Severus could not see Lily, loyal Lily, committing such a betrayal. When he voiced these feelings Sirius sneered at him with familiar hatred.

“But you’d know all about it won’t you,” the mutt accused.

The flea bitten mongrel had the nerve to suggest that that he was Harriet’s father, that Snape would have betrayed Lily in such a way. Black was fool enough to think Severus of all people would lower himself to take the name of Potter and taint his love for Lily by winning her for a night at a time through bewitchment. Absurd! And easily disproven as the rest of the room pointed out to the mongrel.

In his haste to find justification for his feelings towards Severus, Black had over looked one of the most obvious flaws in his hypothesis. Namely, John. John and Harriet were both Potters, kin. The blood tests which had already been conducted with no part played by Severus had confirmed this. Jon proved the identity of Harriet’s father. Whoever he was they had no reason to doubt that he was indeed a Potter from America.

Black hadn't been happy to so easily be proven wrong. He tried to argue but there was more evidence to be had. More evidence which proved how delusional his mad theory was. However like a dog with a bone, the mutt could not let it go.

Some days later at Harriet’s request a new test was done to bring the matter to a close once and for all. They carried it out using many samples including ones taken from John in order for Black to see for himself that it was not a faulty nor tampered result. In the process Snape used some Slytherin cunning to steal a sample of John’s blood which he brought back to Hogwarts for further testing of his own. The results of those tests had proven disturbing.

Jon indeed was Harriet’s kin but of a far closer relation than they’d been lead to believe.

According to Severus’ findings the boy was not Harriet’s cousin but her brother with as much active Jotunn blood in his veins as her.

Severus did not believe this was a coincidence. He believed it was the result of deception and planning. The planning of whom he did not know. Perhaps it was John’s choosing to keep his heritage and his connection to Harriet a secret. Perhaps the boy was a pawn like Severus, maneuvered into place with little to no idea of the greater scheme at hand. Maybe this was all some grand design of Harriet’s biological father. But, what seemed the most fitting explanation to Snape was that this should be some machination of his Lord who had been so invested in learning about and investigating the truth about Harriet’s heritage. Voldemort had been secure enough in his belief to claim before all that it was from her Potter blood that Harriet received her Jotunn nature. What better guard to put in place for the girl than a secret one? Could Voldemort not have found and recruited the brother or was there something else at play here? Something Severus could not think to imagine.

He did not know but his ignorance did not stop Snape from reaching a decision.

No matter what plot or plan was at play he would not speak a word of it. He would keep it secret until such a time as the Dark Lord returned and told him differently. Until that day Severus would continue do as he had been ordered and as he believe his Lord would wish of him. He would look after Harriet Potter with all that was in his power to do to keep her safe and see her strong.

And the Fates, they did smile.

Everything it seemed, was playing out towards their aims. Between her tutor, her headmaster, her champion, and the others in her life Harriet was assured to grow stronger in herself, her ability, and her position in the world with every passing year. They felt confident when the time came for the Universe to turn its attentions on Earth, their Mistress would be ready to face them all.