Lunchtime at the Dursley Household was subdued, Harriet found as she listlessly pushed around her sweetcorn on her plate with her fork. She wasn't hungry. The feeling of the blanket wrapped around her as she sat on the bench by the park as the corpse of Elizabeth Eckins was covered and carried off into the back of an ambulance was still so vivid. A shock blanket they had called it, because apparently she'd been in a state of shock. Evidently, her aunt and uncle were content to leave her be, seemingly treading carefully around her, thanks to what the paramedic who'd delivered her home had told them. And recommended she get something called 'counselling' which Uncle Vernon had scoffed at.

Harriet liked the silence. She didn't like, though, the vivid memory of Elizabeth Eckins' corpse. She could still see the dark blood staining her skin, the dark red colouring still so very contrasting against the pale white of skin. Of course, naturally, that was the moment when the silence was broken, and Harriet could only shrink in on herself as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon started speaking in hushed tones as Dudley sat in front of the TV, watching a cartoon.

"I heard they're calling in an investigative team from London," her aunt said, worry leaking into her voice.

"That's right," Uncle Vernon answered, looking unusually solemn. "It's well… Cooper – you know, the copper? Well, I heard from him that it's not the first case in the area, so they're calling in the investigation team they have for…"

"A serial killer," Aunt Petunia murmured, looking terrified all of a sudden.

"Not to worry, Pet," her uncle said, smiling at her as best he could, what with the news he'd just dropped. "They're only targeting young girls – so we don't have anything to worry about. Dudley will be fine," he explained, patting his wife on the shoulder then.

Harriet blinked, something cold running through her at her uncle's words. The way he'd spoken as if they didn't have a young girl in the house. The way he'd spoken like Dudley was the only thing which mattered. The way he'd spoken like he didn't care if she lived or died.

She pushed her chair back from the table then, sliding down to her feet, taking her plate to the kitchen, scrapping her plate and then placing it in the dishwasher before she slunk into her cupboard. Part of her wondered then about what she was supposed to do about her uncle's presumed lack of care about whether or not she was murdered. The mattress creaked as she sat down on her little bed beneath the stairs – out of sight, and out of mind of her supposed family. Her eyes watched blankly as a spider crawled along the carpet in front of her. A small bit of her pondered then over what sort of family would keep a member of their beloved family shut away in a cupboard beneath the stairs.

Closing her eyes, she remembered Elizabeth Eckins and her cold, dead corpse splayed out amongst the flowers. Certainly, she hadn't known Elizabeth – she had been in the other class – but she had seen her out and about around Privet Drive, alive and well. Now she was dead, Harriet mused, hugging her knees to her chest.

She remembered then, the day she had seen those red question marks hovering above thin air outside the Eckins' house that day all those weeks ago. Harriet wondered if there had been any way to warn them about the invisible man who she very much suspected to be the culprit. If there had been any way to save Elizabeth Eckins from the fate which had awaited her.

There was a chill in the air despite it being summer, Harriet noted as she sat amidst the roses and other flowers planted beneath the window to the living room. She was sitting on the front lawn, her observation skill activated as she watched people go about their days. A sombre mood had fallen upon Privet Drive, and it had also brought along a new host of people.

Though a couple of them were dressed in the usual uniform of a police officer that Harriet was used to seeing, a vast majority of them wore clothes which were more than a little odd. They were dressed in red robes which seemed more than a little unwieldy for walking and doing investigative work in. Then there were the sticks they all carried, but tried to keep out of sight whenever a resident of Privet Drive decided to be nosy – as they all too often did.

Curious, Harriet peered at them over the top of her book, watching as the strangest man of them all walked by. He seemed to have an eyeball strapped to his skull, the iris of which was a bright, vivid, electric blue, which moved about of its own accord. Said eyeball was currently looking at her, and Harriet could only tilt her head at the strangeness of it and go back to reading her book quietly.

Above their heads, white letters gleamed and made Harriet frown – because they had titles, and their levels were rather high, especially eyeball guy.

Kingsley Shacklebolt – Lvl.156 – Age:31 – The Rising Star

Red robes caught the sun, and Harriet could only ponder on how no one else seemed to find their clothes the slightest bit strange, even as she watched them walk out of her sight.

Alastor Moody – Lvl.211 – Age:32 – Dark Wizard's Bane

Harriet couldn't deny that eyeball guy looked like someone who had earnt such a level. His face was lined with scars, angry and red, which almost made it look like the man was constantly scowling. Or maybe he'd been scowling the entire time and that was his default facial expression. Harriet wasn't sure. No matter how high her charisma stat was, she didn't know everything about relationships and reading people from their faces from simply looking at them.

Idly, she wondered if she could with a high enough stat point total.

Then she saw a flash of red letters and she hurried inside, heart pounding in her chest at the dawning, sinking realisation that she might just be a serial killer's next intended victim.

Harriet wondered if those conclusions had come from her high charisma stat, before she secluded herself away in her cupboard beneath the stairs. Either that or that was her paranoia talking.

The consequences of failing to escape the stranger in the woods had been something unknown, followed by death, after all. Elizabeth Eckins had something happen to her before she was murdered. Shivers rolled down her spine, part of her wondering if that invisible man was waiting outside her house right then.

Silently, she prayed eyeball guy and Mr Shacklebolt caught him – the sooner the better. However one would go about catching an invisible man.

"Detect Enemies," Harriet muttered, knowing that skill of hers might well have been her best friend right then and there, what with a killer on the loose. A killer, one targeting her, would be her enemy, even if he wasn't that mysterious enemy of hers already listed in her relationships screen.

[No Enemies Detected]

Her shoulders slumped, even as her head pounded from her near constant use of her observation skill. It was no wonder that particular skill had seen a sharp increase the past few days. Her other favourite skill was already rather high-levelled, so it hadn't quite increased as much, what with how the rate of improvement slowed with every passing level.

[ALERT! Observation (Novice) has levelled up to Lvl.15!]

Harriet let out a breath, even as she walked around the streets of Privet Drive, far too scared to go much further afield than that. She hadn't heard any news of anyone being caught, least of all someone who slipped about unseen. There was still time though, no matter how she felt that every minute and every second which passed where like grains of sand draining from an hourglass. Harriet only wondered what would become of her once those sands ran out.

"Has Dawlish reported back in yet?" a gruff voice made Harriet pause, realising that those red robed police officers were just around the nearest corner.

She probably should have just gone on her way and left the coppers to their business, but curiosity had always been something her aunt and uncle hadn't quite managed to quash out of her just yet. "Stealth," she practically breathed, voice barely above a whisper, feeling the familiar sensation rush over her skin as that skill activated.

"Not just yet, Mad-Eye," a deep voice replied, and Harriet hedged her bets that the aforementioned Mad-Eye was eyeball guy – Alastor Moody. "He went to that… strange grove where the muggle child's body was found."

"That muggle child has a name," someone else interjected. Harriet nodded at that. "Elizabeth Eckins. I'd appreciate it if we referred to her as such. A child is dead – it hardly matters whether or not she was magical or muggle."

"Ugh. I sounded like a pure-blooded bastard just then, didn't I?" the second voice mumbled. "On a scale of one to ten, how badly did I sound like that ponce Malfoy?"

Someone scoffed.

"Got something to say, Savage?" Eyeball man asked, tone of voice telling him exactly what he thought of that scoff. "Didn't think so."

[ALERT! Stealth (Novice) has levelled up to Lvl.50!]

Harriet frowned. Her stealth skill had improved unusually quickly.

"Proudfoot, did you find anything promising on your end?" the deep voice asked. "This sick bastard's eluded us far too many times so far…"

"I located the ritual site used for Eckins as well as a potential one for the future," Proudfoot replied tersely. "I think our suspect might be planning on sticking around in the area… and I have a horrible feeling he might be eyeing up a new potential target."

"We can only be thankful that Dumbledore's hidden the Potter girl," another, younger voice spoke. "It's just unfortunate that there are so many girls who could resemble Harriet Potter around here—"

Harriet stumbled back, eyes widening as small stones skittered beneath her feet. The silence told her everything she needed to know, and she bolted, turning tail and sprinting like her life depended on it. She'd had plenty of practice, doing as such. Maybe that was why she got away so quickly and easily.

Nobody followed her.

Eavesdropping was confusing, as well as enlightening, Harriet mused to herself even as she muttered her usual skill under her breath, reassuring herself of the lack of enemies around her. The days when she woke up and detected four enemies in her vicinity were generally the days she stayed as safe as she could be inside her house.

Dumbledore's hidden the Potter girl.

The words of a stranger in red robes had her confused. Certainly the name Potter was rather common, as was the name Harriet. Her aunt had reminded her of that enough. She was common. Easily replaceable. Harriet blinked, wondering where that last thought had sprung from. Not that such a matter was particularly important in light of the events unfolding around her.

The name Potter was common, as was the name Harriet. She only wondered how many of them had black hair and green eyes. And a 'disfigurement' on their forehead, as had been carved into Elizabeth Eckins' forehead. Somehow she didn't think that was a coincidence.

There was a killer out there who was aiming for her.

Harriet looked down at the pavement as her feet led her to her tainted grove, staring at the police tape wrapped around the trees for a few moments before she resumed staring at the paving which was so interesting all of a sudden.

Did that make all the deaths that far – because clearly there had been multiple – her fault?

She chewed on her lip, hands shaking as she lifted her gaze, looking into that red grove as red petals danced in the wind, a deep crimson akin to the colour of blood. Harriet didn't know whether she liked the colour red anymore. Harriet blinked, staring into the distance—

Something pale and washed out flickered into existence between the trees, beneath the boughs of leaves and amidst the red petals which fluttered on the breeze.

A soft ding made her jump in surprise, heart in her throat as a blue box appeared in front of her.

[A Hidden Skill reveals itself!]

Harriet blinked. "What?" she mumbled, gaze flickering between the box and the washed out, faded form which came into focus as it came into existence. Her mouth went bone dry, fear gripping her heart as she stared at a familiar bare form who all too often featured in her nightmares.

Elizabeth Eckins stared at her in all her ghostly glory.

"Elizabeth," she murmured, watching as faded green eyes locked on her. "But… you're dead…" she said, feeling like an idiot because clearly she was seeing a ghost.

Faded black hair shifted as the ghost tilted her head. "You can see me?" came a weak voice which seemed to crackle with static and grate against her ears.

[ALERT! Whispers of the Dead (Novice) has levelled up to Lvl.2!]

Harriet stared, dumbstruck, mouth seeming to move with a mind of its own. "Yeah," she said, her voice sounding as though it was coming from so far away as she stared at a literal ghost. "I can."