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Hello there everyone – Piro-san here with another Harry Potter FanFiction. This idea actually came to me by catching up with game trailers and Star Wars – specifically the Betrayal Trailer for Knights of the Eternal Throne. Like my other Harry Potter FanFiction, it features a female Harry, but a noticeably darker Harry – not evil, but darker … more … world wary.

Hopefully I don't disappoint, and obviously it'll have Star Wars elements … please enjoy.

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I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR STAR WARS!

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"It's a Witch!" – Speech

'It's a Witch!' – Thoughts

"It's a Witch!" – Familiar/The Voice's Speech

'It's a Witch!' – Familiar/The Voice's Thoughts

"It's a Witch!" – Parseltongue Speech

'It's a Witch!' – Parseltongue Thoughts

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A lone figure stood in the centre of the auditorium of the Ministry of Magic's most secure courtroom; she had wild, black hair and emerald green eyes that almost glowed with their own unseen power. Why was this lone girl standing in such a room? She was on trial for the petrification of students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As the only student since the 'deceased' Dark Lord Voldemort to be a Parselmouth, she was the only possible person capable of opening the feared Chamber of Secrets and releasing the dark creature known as the Basilisk. Never mind the fact that it had been her that had slayed the beast – consequently risking her very life to save her best friend's little sister.

Well, now that little sister refused to speak on the matter and all evidence pointed to one Harriet Dorea Potter. Even the esteemed Headmaster of the School couldn't speak in her defence since he was conveniently absent – for what reason she didn't know … but the thing that stung the most?

It was her 'best' friend's accounts that led her to be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban Prison – a supposedly inescapable fortress of unknown origin that housed the Wizarding World's most notorious and dangerous criminals. But that mattered little as she solemnly watched the Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge bang his gavel down to make it official.

Harriet hadn't even been allowed to speak at her own trial – nor was there any Veritaserum (she did read) administered to her for her to give her side of the tale. No, because they believed that her Parseltongue Magic could overpower such methods … she had no defence and no one vouching for her – sans one person – Hermione Granger: the closest thing she'd ever come to a true sister.

Hermione cried profusely as the gavel came down. She didn't believe that this was considered the justice system in Magical Britain. Harriet cried silently – as the potion given to take her voice away for the trial was still working, and even if it wasn't working … there were no more words left to speak.

Harriet turned her teary eyed gaze to Ronald Weasley – the reason she was being sentenced. What did she ever do to deserve his hatred? He had everything she wanted in life – a family to love her. The smug, vindictive look he shot her was enough to show that he felt that she deserved her fate. Her gaze traversed the distance to the rest of the Weasley Family and she sighed. The twins – bless them – appeared to be having the same reaction as Hermione, but Arthur and Molly? The very two adults that had been close to becoming her honorary parents looked at her with fear and mistrust. Ginevra Weasley wouldn't meet her gaze and Harriet felt pure rage fill her heart at the girl … a single testimony from the red head would clear the entire matter there and then – but she remained silent. Percy was the odd one out … he too appeared to be looking conflicted about the trial, and at one point he even appeared to move to say something … but he remained guilty by association for also remaining silent.

Unknown to her but seen by a curious onlooker – her eyes flickered from their usual emerald green colour to a green that emulated the very curse often associated with a glowing green: The Killing Curse. It sparked something inside this person and the individual immediately rushed to leave the courtroom to make their preparations … they'd finally found a viable candidate!

Harriet whimpered painfully as they snapped her wand – the sheer wrongness that her magic felt by the action sent her into fresh tears and they dragged her away shortly after.

Dumbledore was still nowhere to be found.

..::..

Although the potion had worn off hours prior, Harriet remained silent as she stood on the tiny worn boat that escorted her and two unnamed Aurors to the Island of Azkaban. She could still hear the pleading screams of her honorary sister crying for true justice, or the sight of the twins that sent scathing looks to their youngest two siblings. Despair filled her heart and she suddenly felt colder than she'd ever been before. She finally made a movement – startling the two Aurors as she glanced up to see the nightmarish sight of creatures that looked like death itself … Dementors! She remembered reading about them with Hermione when she hid in the library with her to escape the glares and whispers of her classmates.

'Classmates … huh, I guess I can't think of them like that any longer,' Harriet thought mirthlessly. Her classmates only ever saw her as the 'Girl-Who-Lived', and the few students that didn't were too few to count on a single hand.

She didn't realise it at the time, but Harriet had been staring a Dementor down – as if challenging the creature. The two Aurors were prepared to use their Patronus Charms to repel the creature, but imagine their sheer surprise when the Dementor not only didn't attack, but appeared to screech horribly in fear of the young prisoner.

Once again and unnoticed by all – bar a terribly frightened Dementor: Harriet's eyes were glowing.

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"Are you certain this is wise?" a nervous sounding man spoke. "I-I mean she is a Parseltongue and her Bloodline makes it possible … but …"

"Yes Cornelius," a calm voice replied – it was aged and raspy as if it wasn't used for a long time. "She is the one we've been waiting for … I'm certain of it."

"B-But I only just sentenced the poor girl," the now identified Cornelius Fudge sputtered. "I truly regret the girl's fate, but without evidence pointing in her favour, I cannot simply overturn her sentence … you know this!"

"Indeed I do Minister," the raspy voice replied – still calm in nature. "I am not asking you to overturn her imprisonment … I'm asking you to give me permission to train her personally. You're not stupid Minister – you know as well as I do that Voldemort will return. Why do you believe I recommended using Lucius Malfoy to fund your campaign?"

Fudge sighed tiredly and removed his bowler hat to wipe his head with a handkerchief. "To fool the man into thinking I needed him … why else do you think I've put up with his insufferable attitude for so long already? You try maintaining the façade of being an idiotic bureaucrat!"

The raspy voice chuckled in humour. "You, my old friend, are a true Slytherin."

Fudge grunted as he returned the hat to his head. "What is it you want me to do Unspeakable Croaker?"

The newly identified Croaker silently pondered the action he was about to recommend. He couldn't be 100% sure that the Potter Heiress was the one he was looking for – but the tremendous power within her, coupled with her Parseltongue and her family heritage all ended up with a single family name … Peverell. Only questions arose around the topic of the Peverell Family – questions about how and why they were so feared … but the very suggestion he was about to recommend would give them at least a few answers.

"I want you to put her in Prison Cell 000." The raspy voice suddenly replied.

Silence filled the room the two men were in before Fudge exploded in magic and rage. "ARE YOU INSANE CROAKER? THAT CELL HAS BEEN SEALED SINCE THE FIRST AND ONLY OCCUPANT OF IT DIED, ALMOST A THOUSAND YEARS AGO!"

Croaker grunted as he was flung into the wall on the other side of the room. Fudge was visibly vibrating with magic as they stared at each other in a tense silence. Finally the Minister sighed and withdrew his magic.

"Fine," Cornelius spat. "You'll get your request, but be it on your head, you hear me Croaker?"

"Understood Minister," Croaker rasped. "I only have one further question for you."

Fudge's sharp glare answered the Unspeakable, but he nodded to the man to continue. "The information surrounding Cell 000 is classified … how do you know why it was sealed?"

Fudge considered the man before spinning to face the door.

"Every Minister of Magic since he died in that cell has been briefed on the matter," Fudge whispered as if scared. "The Peverell Family was feared for a reason Croaker. If History has taught the Magical World anything, it's that there should only ever be balance in magic. Light and Dark Magic cannot exist without each other … and people oft forget that Grey Magic existed long before either Light or Dark. The Peverell Family was the only family to be able to freely harness Grey Magic as freely as we breathe air."

He cleared his throat and answered Croaker's initial question. "Prison Cell 000 … former home of the one called Death."

Croaker watched the man leave and relayed the order to the two Aurors that approached with Azkaban's newest resident. He knew the Minister didn't mean death in the complete sense … as death was incorporeal and existed without form. No, the one called Death was a man so powerful, that he was what Muggles and Magicals alike used to refer to the image of Death.

Prisoner 000: the man that brought life to the image of Death!

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"A-Are they really serious a-about t-this?" an Auror muttered in fear. "I-I mean even the D-Dementors don't go this f-far into the prison!"

"Shut your gob and obey the bloody order," muttered the other Auror. "This is obviously above our paygrades … trust me mate … just forget this is even happening."

Harriet silently absorbed the information being shared between the two Aurors. Did they realise they weren't whispering? She wasn't sure, but it took the entirety of her focus to ignore the cries of hopelessness in the prison as they led her deeper into the maze-like structure of Azkaban. She could still hear the catcalls from the sex deprived prisoners that she'd thankfully never see again, but it was the cell they passed with a shaggy black-haired man that sparked a memory of a large dog from her childhood. He seemed to have more focus than the other prisoners – especially since he even appeared to recognise her the moment their eyes met.

"Pup?" he managed to croak out, before she was pushed down deeper into the prison.

They continued the seemingly never-ending journey deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, and it was with a final push that the two Auror shoved her into the stony eyed gaze of a third man – they fled soon after in terror of the room that Harriet now stood in front of with the hooded man. The Cell's door was easily as tall as Hagrid, and it was an ominous shade of red-black.

'The same colour as old blood,' Harriet mused tiredly.

"I'm truly sorry," the raspy voice spoke – sincerity in every note of its raspy quality. "If you survive this, then I will do everything in my power to atone for my actions, Heiress Potter."

The man stepped aside and unlocked the room. An unearthly hissing noise followed and the giant wooden door creaked loudly as it was opened. Strangely, the fog inside the room remained there – as if unwilling to leave its domain – and Harriet mentally blinked as it curled in on itself as if gesturing her inside.

"My name is Unspeakable Croaker," the man introduced. "And I am sorry."

Before being able to ask why he truly felt sorry, he not-so-gently nudged her inside – causing her to crash into the room's floor harshly. The door creaked once more, before the hissing noise returned as the door was once again sealed. Harriet didn't know how long she was in there before her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, but when they did, she noticed that the room was circular in design. In an exact circle surrounding the room's only source of light – a large circular crystal-like skylight built into the roof that only allowed hazy, minimal light in – were four stone statues that resembled monks meditating.

They were so large that they brushed the roof of the room, whilst the roof itself was actually rather low compared to the giant door that kept her locked inside.

"Magic, I guess," Harriet murmured with a hint of frustration. "I won't be able to walk in here if I grow any taller … that is if I grow taller."

Frustration bubbled up inside her at the thought of why she was shorter than most her own age. Her only living relatives were the Dursley Family, and they only gave her the bare minimum to survive – and she really did mean the bare minimum. Her eyes lowered to her threadbare jumper and shivered. It was exceptionally cold in the room – droplets of water dropped from the low roof to pool in the corners … it made the room feel even colder. Harriet felt everything she'd been instinctively bottling up come rising to the surface and she let out a scream of anguish before huddling into as small of a ball as possible, and sobbed herself to sleep.

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Harriet blinked in confusion.

Everywhere she looked, there was fog clouding her vision. Every sound she heard was indiscernible to her ears and there was no scent at all.

"H-Hello?" she called, only to hear that her voice too, sounded hazy.

"Greetings Child of my Bloodline," a deep, baritone voice rumbled from behind her.

Harriet gasped and jumped, she then spun around to face the voice, only to see more fog. The voice laughed at her confusion and she glared at the surrounding fog. "Who are you and why did you call me a child of your Bloodline?"

Silence answered her and she felt her temper flare inside of her. Harriet took several deep breaths to calm her mind before spinning to face the deep breathing sound from behind her. Again, all she saw was fog.

"Stop hiding in the fog!" she growled in frustration.

"Then make me reveal myself child," the voice returned from behind her once more.

Harriet spun again, and again she found nothing but fog. Oh the voice wanted to play games, did it? Her temper flared once more, but this time she didn't restrain it … a second later she growled loudly in the back of her throat before screaming to vent said temper – something she'd never forget occurred.

The fog was pushed back from where she was violently. So violently in fact, that the room shook from her power. Harriet gasped and took a step back in shock … what would happen if she was caught? Magic was forbidden, even in Azkaban!

"Good child, good," the voice echoed from around her. "You have passed my first test; you are indeed a child of my Bloodline. Until I next deem you worthy to learn from me, you will remember this first lesson: Magic is about intent … but in our Blood … Magic can become powerful with your emotion … my emotion was hatred … what will your emotion be, I wonder."

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Harriet didn't know how long it was until she decided to indulge the strange voice. She had spent an unknown amount of time merely huddled into her tight ball muttering to the voice – or trying to get the voice to come back.

She was surprised by the quality of food that she was expected to eat though. She had been expecting bread and water in meagre rations – which is what she received, but a sniff identified that the bread was soaked in a broth to disguise the smell of a Nourishment Potion.

Harriet tried to eat – really she did, but history had reared its ugly head and she found that, with her feeling of hopelessness added to her circumstances, she managed a mere bite or two before feeling ill, and forcing herself to eat only made her physically ill.

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Another indiscernible amount of time had passed and Harriet had started to feel the effects of Azkaban start to take hold. Her huddled form gave way to her rocking back and forth while desperately seeking the voice and begging it to return. Harriet's ability to eat had not changed since her first meal, and it was then that the man known as Croaker started to talk to her through the door.

Harriet remained silent during these talks, but her heart sank when he revealed his intentions to investigate the reasons behind her disturbing eating habits. He talked about meaningless things – all in the hopes of getting her to open up – but Harriet didn't feel like sharing.

'Why does he persist in this?' Harriet mentally hissed. 'Isn't keeping me here enough?'

Her inner anger boiled once more, but it was then that she sensed it! That connection to her power returned, and with it she heard the distant sound of the voice congratulating her on finding her focus.

"Within time," the voice spoke. "Within time, you will not even need to feel anger to use your gifts, child of my blood."

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According to the man Croaker – she had now been imprisoned for 10 weeks. She still didn't feel like indulging the man in replying to his incessant chatter … but she did use it to continue to fuel her ability to connect with her power. When Croaker informed her that he had discovered what her pre-Hogwarts life had been like, she finally replied to him in the form of another scream. A scream that echoed throughout Prison Cell 000 and shook the room with her power. He left and didn't return the next day, but she now had a way of counting the days – thanks to Croaker's slip about her time spent.

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It had taken time, weeks to be precise … but she managed to unfurl her huddled form to an awkward and slouched position. Her lazy form, coupled with her ability to connect with the feeling that brought the voice back, had her attempt to meditate to communicate with it. Over time, the voice instructed her in the proper way to meditate and communicate with it, and she soaked up that knowledge like a sponge.

Her crouched form gave way to a proper meditative stance and with focus and time; she could freely connect to her anger and use it to feel her unknown power circulate through her system. This had an unexpected result … her appetite had grown exponentially and she found herself practically devouring her food. Somehow in her education with the voice – she had recreated the power that had occurred by screaming – only this time she managed to do it silently.

The voice was very pleased.

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Approximately six months into her sentence, something happened that caused Harriet to panic. She had been eating her dinner hungrily, when at the corner of her eye she spotted black tattoo-like symbols on her shoulders. They sat perfectly on the very tip of her shoulders, and their symbols confused her as equally as the sense of strange achievement that came with them.

She didn't remember much after that. What she did remember was that the door hissed open, and then everything went black. When she came to, she found herself dressed in clean robes; someone had bathed her, and alarmingly – shaved her head. She reasoned it was due to the dirty, tangled mess that it had become, that they felt that they had to remove it, but unlike previously where her hair grew back overnight – this time, her head remained shaved.

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She couldn't remember when she started to address the voice differently – but she had taken to calling it 'Master'. Not master as in slavery, but master as in instructor. The voice was pleased by the change, and her instruction had become physical as well as mental. On her master's urging, Harriet had started weakly walking around her circular room until she couldn't feel her legs. Then she had to work her arms and joints by stretching to encourage her natural, feminine flexibility to become more prominent.

Harriet had discovered that the statue like structures could open and inside were several stone spheres that must've been almost impossible to lift. So naturally, her master instructed her to lift them – not physically, but by tapping into her power. She was told to clear her mind and feel the spheres and levitate them.

Harriet managed to roll one sphere.

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Croaker returned another month later – marking it as nine months into her sentence. His talking was still as irritating as before, and she still remained silent, but she suspected that he was somehow observing her progress – why else would he return?

He continued to come every day without fail and it was another 15 days of this that he finally proposed his plan. He wanted to supplement her training. Her master was most adamant that she accept – so she obeyed her master and agreed.

The Unspeakable's training was brutal. After having special potions to help stop her muscles and nerves from having complications from being seated for so long, she was made to run laps, do weights training, sit-ups, push-ups, and so on and so forth.

Then came the combat training. Since her wand had been snapped right before her eyes (painfully severing her connection to it), Harriet was made to practise with poles instead.

"Again," Croaker barked.

Harriet ignored his barking and took another swipe at her Unspeakable training partner. He effortlessly parried her attack and swiped her legs out from underneath her. Harriet grunted in pain and exhaled sharply – just how long was she expected to do this?

"Again," Croaker barked once more. "Shift your weight Potter."

Harriet rolled her eyes and stood once more. Her Unspeakable training partner sniffed at her with derision. "Can't do anything without your snake minion, eh Potter?"

Harriet snarled – startling all those watching, as it was more emotion than they had seen from her since the training began. Harriet focused her anger internally and circulated said anger through her body – harnessing it and using it to fuel her Magical Core.

"Again," Croaker repeated.

This time however was different. Harriet slammed her foot down and stared the Unspeakable down. The Unspeakable laughed mockingly and charged to send the impudent girl down once more – only to feel fear course through him as he instead hit a wall of what felt like steel. Then he felt an incredible pressure surround him, and he was once again shocked when he found his body being lifted off the ground. The wooden pole that he had been using to 'instruct' the girl was then crushed and splintered violently. If that wasn't scary enough for him – his padded armour started compacting painfully around his wrist, followed by his arm's bones and then his head gear started squeezing his head – causing untold amounts of anguish to the man, who felt like his head was about to explode under the pressure.

He turned his fearful gaze to the Potter Heiress and flinched as her eyes were glowing with power – emulating the colour of the Killing Curse. His bones started to give way under the pressure of her power as they popped and audibly cracked. He knew that his head was going to follow when Croaker managed to save him.

"Enough Potter!" Croaker snarled desperately.

Harriet blinked and released the unfortunate man from her power. Croaker rushed forward and grimaced at the sight of the man's crushed and broken body – the man would live, but he'd need months of therapy to return to service … but if the look in the man's eyes were anything to go by … he'd be set for an early retirement.

"Return Heiress Potter to her cell," Croaker muttered.

Harriet sniffed in dismissal, but obediently followed her guards back. Along the way, that scruffy prisoner pushed himself against his cell to try and touch her.

"Prongslet, it really is you!" he looked like he was going to cry. Harriet stared at him for a second before turning her emotionless gaze back to the hallway … she didn't know him, but something begged her to remember the shaggy haired man.

"Do not trouble yourself with meaningless things, child of my blood," her master's voice echoed. "All will be revealed in time … my apprentice."

'Yes, I understand my master,' Harriet thought in reply.

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Sirius Black wailed as his precious goddaughter brushed him aside. Her eyes were so … dead. They revealed nothing, and he knew exactly who to blame – the Unspeakables who were constantly seen moving her from her cell to Merlin knew where. Sirius didn't know what they were doing to her, but it had to be something unforgivable for his precious Harriet to look like she did.

She was deathly pale and her eyes looked painfully swollen from lack of sleep and rest. They had shaved her once beautiful raven black hair off, while the robes that she wore were better suited to those being experimented on as opposed to the other prisoners. But what scared Sirius the most was the aura of sinister power surrounding her – what did they think they were going to achieve by torturing his Prongslet?

Then there was where they were leading her. He remembered the horror stories surrounding the centre of Azkaban. From his own days as an Auror, he remembered that those imprisoned closer to the centre of the prison were often found self-mutilating themselves, or went mad far quicker than others imprisoned elsewhere.

Sirius decided to enact his plan – he needed to get his Prongslet out of Azkaban. She needed him now more than ever, and he was prepared to die to save her – his godfather oath empowered his decision and he felt life return to his Magical Core.

Soon he would break out and get his goddaughter out with him.

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Meanwhile, at the Burrow – the home of the Weasley family, there was silence at their table. Molly and Arthur Weasley were still in denial over the events that had taken place in their only daughter's first year of education. They knew that their daughter Ginevra had a case of hero worship with Harriet, and that since the events had taken place – she had remained silent on the matter. They recognised that their daughter probably needed to see a mind-healer, but they couldn't afford the fees. Harriet, bless her, had helped that year in paying for Ginny's things like an older sister would oft do for their siblings, and that was what was bothering them.

They truly believed that Harriet was innocent. Ron had been acting so strangely that year and the glint of jealously that they liked to think was just a phase was painted on his face whenever Harriet indulged Ginny and bought her things. Harriet never stopped smiling whenever she paid for anything for Ginny and they knew that Harriet was pleased to be seen as an older sister to the young red head.

They could see that Ginny wanted to say something to defend or accuse Harriet at the trial, but the trauma of the events left her too scared to say anything. The most heart crushing sight they'd ever seen was the sheer heartbroken look on Harriet's face as they announced her punishment or the whimper from the older girl as they snapped her wand in two. They weren't blind – they could see the awkwardness in her walk and the bruises or swelling on her body, but since Harriet was uncomfortable talking about her home-life, they didn't pry.

The look of utter betrayal from Harriet as Ginny remained silent had haunted their dreams. Arthur had to often comfort his wife at night as they knew what happened to those sent to Azkaban.

The twins had stopped speaking to Ron and Ginny. It hurt Ginny more than Ron, as they had often cheered their sister up whenever she was sad, but now they ignored her outright – and if they did look her way – it was to look at her in disappointment. They instead chose to spend more time with Percy. As odd as that was for the twins, they had also revised their school books and taken Percy's advice to heart in what subjects to prepare for.

Percy was as silent as ever over the incident, but the glint of intelligence told the two parents that he suspected that Ginny had vital evidence in clearing Harriet's name and restoring her honour. He became a recluse – often found studying books on law and loopholes to exploit and apart from the twins – he ignored his siblings.

Ron was smug about his actions in convicting Harriet at first, but then he realised the consequences of his actions. He begged to be allowed to change his statement and to explain the events more clearly, but Minister Fudge dismissed the child. Ron knew that Harriet would never forgive him, as the look of loathing and betrayal she sent him as she was taken away was enough to see.

Ginny was the most effected by the events. Ginny saw Harriet as an older sister and her inability to talk about the event of her first year had damned her older sister to a fate worse than death. The Ministry had seized the Potter Fortunes and frozen them indefinitely, thus taking away Harriet's claim to inherit, so even if she was released – her money wasn't completely hers until she was cleared of all charges.

She had destroyed her sister's life … all because she couldn't bring herself to talk about anything … and it was eating her up inside.

Hermione Granger had outright accused them of turning their backs on Harriet and blamed Ginny and Ron for her fate. The Weasley family had not been able to dispute her accusations and how could they – for it was true … Ron's testimony was responsible for her imprisonment and Ginny's silence was just as damning. Hermione only ever associated with the twins and Percy after that fateful day in court. Ron tried to reason with Hermione … only to end up targeted by the twin's wrath and jinxed by spells that proved Hermione really was one of the smartest witches of her generation. Ironically, only Hermione and Harriet were ever called that, but their combined intelligence wasn't enough to free her of the charges levelled against her.

They could only all hope Harriet would forgive them, as she had done countless times before.

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That's it for chapter one. It's a new story that I'm not sure will take off, but I hope my dear readers will enjoy it. Please forgive any errors and thanks for reading. ^_^

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AS ALWAYS: PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

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