"With the sash or without?"
Harry, Daphne and Pansy were in Pansy's bedroom, preparing for the Parkinson Heiress' eleventh birthday party in the way only privileged young girls can. Harry wasn't in to it, but always enjoyed just hanging with the girls. The boys, however polished and dignified they appeared to the outside world, were just as loud and obnoxious as any young boys, so it was always a nice break to be in Pansy's fairy tale bedroom while critiquing dresses that probably cost more than most people made in six months.
Pansy stood on a podium with three mirrors – something Harry had accepted was a norm for the people she called friends nowadays, though she had put her foot down and refused Narcissa's attempt to get something similar for her own bedroom, because one full length mirror was all that Harry needed seeing as she barely spared it a second glance anyway. It was a constant source of frustration for Narcissa.
All her friends' houses were beautiful, inside and out, but the days had long passed when she would stare open mouthed as she walked through them. Tom had a high standard for who he allowed Harry to befriend, and she was old enough now to know that's what he was doing, she just didn't mind. She'd hated other children before being introduced to these, though the only ones she'd known before were the awful muggle type, so maybe that was her problem.
Harry looked up from the photo album, she was flicking through, an album filled with the laughing and smiling faces of Harry and her friends, and across to Pansy and the seamstress that fluttered around her, making adjustments and professionally ignoring the snappy and abusive comments sent her way for doing nothing more than her job.
"Definitely without." Harry said, thinking the dress was excessive enough already.
Pansy angled her body to get a better look. "Really? I think it adds definition."
"Hmm, it's more flattering that way." Daphne agreed.
"Without." Harry insisted before turning back to the photos. Narcissa said Harry's taste was understated, but she preferred to think of it as graceful. No matter how much she assimilated into her new life, she didn't think she'd ever understand peoples' need to show off their wealth.
Pansy frowned at her image for a few moments, before sending a disgusted look down to the nameless seamstress. "Well?" She snapped. "Didn't you hear her? Get rid of it!" The poor woman hastened to do so, mentally cursing these spoiled children and the last ten minutes she'd spent meticulously pinning the damn thing in place.
"You haven't told us what you're wearing." Daphne pressed. Harry shrugged sheepishly.
"I haven't bought anything yet." She admitted, which earned her disapproving looks and long suffering sighs from her friends. They were well used to Harry's blasé attitude about fashion, as well as the fact that she would turn up to the party looking better than any of them no matter how late she left preparations – they could only dream of having Lady Malfoy as their personal stylist: the woman was a genius.
"Well, what's Draco wearing?" Pansy's question lacked subtlety and quickly reduced the other girls into fits of laughter at her expense.
"I have no idea." Harry eventually replied, laughing at the glare sent her way in the mirror.
"You're so lucky to get to live with him – how can you be so calm?"
"Why should I care what he wears, besides, we're family, it's not like we're going out or anything." Pansy was a clever, accomplished young woman, but had a weakness for Draco that Harry thought rather sweet. Apparently the two had gotten 'married' in Draco's garden when they were both just five years old, and Pansy had been in love with him ever since. It was just too adorable, especially as Draco was still more interested in quidditch than he was in girls. Poor Pansy.
"Whatever." The girl dismissed, already tired of being laughed at, though she really ought to have been used to it by now. "Aren't you finished yet?" She snapped again at her seamstress.
"Sorry, miss. I'll just be a few more minutes." The girl said as pleasantly as she could, reminding herself that an apprenticeship with the renowned designer Isla Luffman was worth spending a few months doing all the less glamorous jobs, and that she would one day be one of Isla's top designers and have all these wealthy purebloods scrambling for her attention instead of being treated like a house elf.
Pansy went back to ignoring the woman, choosing instead to look back to Harry. "Well, you'll have to get something soon, because I need to know what you'll be wearing, and if we clash I'm disinviting you!"
"Hey Tom, are you going to Pansy's birthday party?" Tom blinked at her for a second or two.
"Why on earth would I be planning to attend Pansy Parkinson's party?"
"It's not just a children's party this year." Harry tried to reason. "It's a big deal, it's her eleventh!"
"Is it?" He replied, his tone as dry as the desert. "And I care about this why?"
"Because! Because there'll probably be more adults there than children and really important ones too I bet." Tom didn't understand why she was trying to coax him into going to a stupid party. The little monster.
"None more so than will be attending Draco's eleventh, at which I'm sure Lucius will take full advantage of any opportunities presented to him." Harry huffed. "Besides, I'll be out of the country."
"You don't even know when it is." She accused, while Tom just smiled at her scowl. He did that a lot around Harry – smiling. It was one of the countless things about her he chose to compartmentalise. Before befriending Harry he didn't think he'd genuinely smiled since learning about magic for the first time.
"Then I'll be sure to stay away for a long while." He teased, waving his hand to divert the cushion that came speeding towards his face. Before Harry could respond, all the cushions around the sitting room lifted into the air and flew effortlessly at Harry, effectively burying the top half of her body in an instant.
Harry fought her way out, coughing dramatically at non-existent dust.
"Where are you going this time anyway?" She asked crossly, whilst secretly levitating the cushion he'd cast aside behind him, hoping to just get one clean hit in retaliation.
"Australia." The cushion burst into flames and fell quickly to the ground as ash, Tom's smirk the only proof he'd even known the object was there.
Harry forgot all about trying to get him back when she heard his answer. "Australia? Why? That's so far away... It's just an island full of things that want to kill you!" He laughed.
"I'm sure there will be nothing more dangerous than the cushion wielding monster I have to put up with in this country." Her scowl returned with force.
"Have to put up with me; I have to put up with you…" She groused. "You know, if you're so intent on touring the whole world you could take me with you – I want to go!" Tom was often away in exotic places, no doubt having great adventures without her: It wasn't fair!
"To the land of 'things that want to kill you'?" He asked with a sarcastically raised eyebrow. "Besides, I'm going for work, not sightseeing. Were you to accompany me, you, my dear, would see nothing more than the inside of your heavily warded hotel room." Harry rolled her eyes at Tom's overprotective nature. He was the monster, not her!
Harry had accepted that Tom was always super busy, but that didn't mean she liked it. She almost wanted the war to start already: the sooner it started, the sooner it would be over and Tom would have what he wanted… and she would have Tom around more often. She sighed.
"When can I see Sirius?" She asked to change the subject. Sometimes Tom punished her godfather by denying him access to Harry, though she had no idea what Sirius had done wrong this time. It was probably nothing, Harry thought, knowing better than to ask, because that got her nowhere. Tom seemed to be getting less and less tolerant of his mere presence lately – even her simply mentioning the man resulted in a darkening of Tom's continence.
"I've not decided – perhaps when I leave." His eyes narrowed on her. "Why? Would you prefer I leave sooner so your pet can come out to play?" His words had a nasty edge to them that made Harry uncomfortable.
"No." She defended, her face screwed up and confused by his accusatory tone. "Salazar, I was just asking. And don't call him that! He's family, not a pet."
"Yes well, people often claim their pets are like family." Harry's eyes rolled to the ceiling in exasperation. What was his problem anyway?
"Why..." Her gaze flew back to Tom at his dark voice, a voice which sobered her up immediately, because it generally meant she was in trouble.
Tom saw her cautious look and shook his head slightly. She had done nothing wrong, well nothing wrong for Harriet anyway – if anyone else rolled their eyes at him they'd lose them before their next blink. He'd simply been ill of mood lately, but wouldn't take it out on her.
"What are you planning for your birthday?" He tried to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere, not wanting to leave the country with the two of them quarrelling, and happy when she accepted the change in topic and started going on about a summer barbeque. He didn't often make time to simply sit and do nothing and didn't want to spoil it for no reason.
Albus Dumbledore felt uneasy. He knew Tom was smart, that he'd want to keep his return quiet for as long as it took to gather his forces and get organised, but it had been years now, and the thought of the powerful wizard moving in the shadows for so long left Albus cold. Merlin only knew what he was up to out there. There hadn't even been any confirmation that he was fully restored, and for a while, though ever cautious, Albus was prepared to go along with the general consensus that there was no imminent threat. Then Bones had died in an almost impossible floo accident. He'd tried not to jump to conclusions, because however astronomically small the odds were that a floo should malfunction as it had, the death of one official didn't equate to war. However when she was replaced by Albert Beets, a man suspected but not proven to have been involved with Tom in the past, he knew something was amiss. It shouldn't have been so easy for such a shady individual to become Head of the DMLE.
That had just been the start. The Prophet's editor retired and was replaced by a man that subtly changed the paper to be more right-leaning, spinning everything in a positive light, so the public never felt any concern when a small handful of junior officials were also replaced by characters with a questionable past. And then there was the scandal that broke concerning the Minister's two closest aides, a scandal that saw Fudge take a nose-dive in the opinion polls, and resulted in a land slide victory for the opposition when the elections came round. The new leader of the opposition – at the time for he was now Minister of Magic – was a total unknown. Barnabas Bagshot had come from nowhere. He was young, with no political career behind him and the people loved him for it, hailed him as a breath of fresh air after the reputation of the political elite had been crushed by the scandal of the previous government. Politics always divided a nation, of course, but the majority of people didn't give it any thought when Bagshot appointed a fluttering of positions to wizards that should have raised alarm bells – there were even two Death Eaters on his team, and Lucius Malfoy was his closest advisor. Ok, so they had all been acquitted of allegiance to Voldemort, but Albus didn't believe their cries of innocence for a second.
He'd tried to warn people: whispered concerned words in some ears and shouted alarm in others. Those on the side of the government started a smear campaign against him, but he still had enough influence and enough friends to be heard, and large sections of the population were beginning to worry, easily remembering the war that was waged only a decade before, though most wanted to forget the spectre of the past and see him proven wrong. His friends in the Order of the Phoenix were on constant stand-by, but became lax as the months continued to pass without incident and they were pulled along into the trials and triumphs of everyday life.
With the aurors being commanded by darker wizards, the Dark side of the wizarding community was thriving. Knockturn Alley hadn't been so busy for years, but even so, with no major disturbance of the peace resulting from this resurgence, the general population couldn't see the problem.
Albus was worried that when the time finally came for Tom to reveal himself, it would be too late, and he wouldn't have enough wizards willing to stand with him. Even he was distracted of late, having to fight tooth and claw to keep the ministry out of Hogwarts – if anyone else had been headmaster during this time, it would have been a lost cause, so he was grateful for his influence and intimate knowledge of law.
The only silver lining was that this year Harriet Potter would be reintroduced to the world. Her presence would serve to reinvigorate the public, and rekindle the fear of what happened the last time the Dark was allowed to get a foothold in Britain. Most importantly, Harriet was the one prophesised to have the power to defeat Voldemort, so it was essential she was brought under his protection when she returned. He was just glad he'd chosen to leave her with her muggle family, because in the current climate it was far too dangerous for Harry Potter to walk the streets of the wizarding world freely, as any normal child would.
Harry walked down Diagon Alley, half dragging Draco along with her.
"Come on! We won't be long – just a peek and then we'll come back!"
"Harry, no!" Draco hissed.
The children were out with Miriam, their latest governess. Today was mostly just an excuse to shop for nothing and hang around in town, though Narcissa was to meet with them later in the afternoon in order to acquire Harry's dress for the upcoming party.
Miriam had gone into Scribbulus to gather supplies and left the children with firm instructions to stay by the door, where she could see them, and recite the dates and names of major events and rulers in England's magical history. Why the woman believed they would actually do such a thing was a mystery to Harry, and when she saw Miriam had fallen into conversation with someone within the store, she decided to take advantage of the situation and get a look at Knockturn Alley. It was a place every adult she knew spoke of, but was never allowed to visit.
Draco pulled her to a stop. "We're not supposed to go down there." He insisted, eyeing the dark alley as though it might attack him. "And we're not supposed to wonder off!"
"You are a lot less fun than you used to be." Draco snorted at that. He was certainly much less willing to do anything that would put Harry in harm's way – he'd learned that lesson the hard way and wasn't keen to repeat the experience.
"What if the…" He looked round conspiratorially and leaned forward. "What if You-Know-Who finds out?" He whispered, hoping she'd see sense.
"He won't find out." She replied dismissively. It was a lie. She knew Tom would definitely find out, but by that time it would be too late and she'd have had her fun and proven she could do things on her own. In all honesty she loved that he was so protective of her, but it was still annoying. Also, she was still a little annoyed with Tom for keeping Sirius from her – whenever he did that the punish her godfather, Harry was also punished because she didn't get to see him either, and even though she knew it wasn't Tom's intention, she still resented him for it.
Draco didn't look like he was going anywhere, so she let out a defeated sigh. "Fine, you win." She stepped back, out of his grasp. "You don't have to go anywhere, but I'm going to check it out. You can just wait here." She turned and marched quickly into the narrow shadowy entrance to the forbidden alley before her friend could respond, and smiled to herself when she heard his footsteps running after her. She knew he would never dare let her do something he thought was dangerous without at least backing her up.
The further they walked, the more dangerous it appeared, but both children kept dignified poses and confident masks, even as they became scared at the frightening people who looked at them like they were something to eat. Maybe two blonde haired, blue eyed children walking alone wasn't such a good idea.
One man came out of nowhere and took hold of Harry's should, but Draco was quick to act and stepped forward to push him away.
"Back off!" He growled with impressive menace for a ten year old. The man paused for a moment and he took the opportunity to take Harry's hand and run. They only made it a short way back before being confronted by a large group, so he diverted their path and they ran into the nearest shop for refuge.
"Maybe," Harry started with a wince, "Maybe we should just wait here until Miriam comes to find us." She wasn't going to admit this was a mistake.
"'Ey! What you…" Harry spun in shock at the sudden voice that broke through the eerie stillness of the store and threw out her hands instinctively, a wave of power sending the old wizard flying backwards and hitting the wall with a worryingly loud thud. The man fell unconscious to the floor.
"Do you think he's ok?" She asked, not wanting to approach to make sure.
"Who cares?" Draco responded. He was more concerned with what they were supposed to do now. If they waited to be rescued they'd be in a world of trouble for this little adventure, but if they tried to run back there was a chance they'd be kidnapped or attacked. He couldn't decide which option was worse. And there was always the possibility that more people would come in while they waited. One wizard caught unawares Harry could handle, but they'd never escape if more came.
"What kind of book store is this?" Harry asked, interrupting his panicked thoughts. He looked around but couldn't find the answer to her question. It was a small shop, but all the walls were chocked full of dusty, old books that looked like they'd fall apart as soon as you touched them, the shelves bowing under the weight. There was a further free standing bookshelf and at seemingly random places on the floor more books stood in clumsily stacked towers. If Harry hadn't just knocked out the shop keeper, he'd say the place had been abandoned.
Harry walked the short distance to the glass cabinet beside the counter, which held books that had been set apart from the others. She imagined it was because of their value, and cracked the case open to get a better look.
"I don't think we should touch anything." Draco advised urgently. The last thing they needed was to trigger an alarm or something.
"I'm just looking." Draco held his breath as she reached in and took the uppermost tome, relieved when nothing happened. "Can you read this?" Harry angled the book so he could see the cover, and the faded but obviously foreign language scrawled across it. Draco shook his head.
Harry ran a hand down it to remove the dust, but discovered it was clean; the book was simply aged and worn. She carefully opened it, hoping to get some idea as to why it was so valuable. Suddenly, a blindingly bright blue light filled the room for a second before dying when the book slammed shut of its own accord.
Draco blinked rapidly to shift the white spots from his vision as he raced to where Harry lay dazed on the floor beside the mysterious volume.
"Harry!" He called, feeling weak with dread until she pulled herself up on her elbows and let out a shaky laugh. "Are you ok?"
"Yeh, I'm fine." She sat up. "I was just surprised… Ah!" She jerked once.
"What?!" Urgency and uncertainty strained Draco's voice.
"No, nothing, I just thought…" She placed a hand to her abdomen. "It was just… just… ah" She flinched again. "Just…"
And then Draco felt his world collapse as Harriet started to scream.