Content Warning: threat of sexual assault should she fail a quest.

Summer was hot, the heat unpleasant and the chill she felt curling down her spine only serving to make her feel sick to the stomach as she looked at the ghostly wounds that three ghosts shared. "I can't see him," Elizabeth murmured, sitting quietly on the grass whilst Charly paced irritably back and forth and Rose stood there solemnly. "Where is he?"

"You really wanna see the bastard who killed us?" Charly spat, kicking at a loose pebble which her foot went straight through.

"She," Rose said, "is actually worried for Harriet, unlike someone I could name."

"Blah, blah, blah," Charly muttered bitterly, and Harriet could only swallow and shift where she knelt, pruning the roses and doing the other gardening work that her aunt wanted her to do. Every now and then she debated on whether or not to keep Whispers of the Dead active, but the overwhelming fear of her invisible serial killer was far too overpowering to allow her to relinquish that sense of comfort her ghostly acquaintances gave her.

Rose was the older of the three ghosts, taller than them by some measures, though not by much. Her face had less of the baby fat which clung to the rest of them, dead or living. Harriet only hoped she would grow up enough to shed more of it. She swallowed at the thought, fear thrumming beneath her skin like an ode to the danger she was dancing with.

"It's not like we can make her go over to the red robes and say, 'oh, yeah, I'm a good necromancer and these three ghosts who are stalking me will kindly direct you to the maniac who's being murdering my lookalikes'," Charly muttered. "You know what those wizards think of necromancers when they're not too busy ignoring the sticks rammed up their arses…" The words were spat out, and Harriet flinched once more, ever reminded of how evil necromancers were.

And she was now one of them, she mused bleakly to herself.

"You've been stalking those wizards way too much, meanie," Elizabeth mumbled, watching almost sadly as her fingers went through the petals of a flower rather than touching them like she had so clearly wanted to. Harriet could still touch the flowers, still feel the prick and bite of thorns against her skin. Bleakly she wondered for how much longer. A shiver rolled down her spine, goosebumps trailing over her arms despite the sun hanging high in the sky.

"Spare me the lame insults," Charly hissed, rolling her eyes as Elizabeth huffed and went back to prodding flowers as best she could with her translucent fingers. "Let's just focus on keeping flinchy over there alive rather than hanging around with us permanently." A huff escaped her that time around. "I don't know how I'd fare having her around constantly rather than out of choice."

"Charly," Rose said sharply for what had to be the thousandth time. "We're supposed to be brainstorming still."

"Like that went well for us yesterday," she muttered. "We still don't know what to do…"

"We'll figure it out," Rose said, and Harriet could only place her fragile hope in such a thing as she sat there. "Somehow." The gaping maw of fearfulness came for her once more, attempting to swallow her whole as she sat there, desperately trying to focus on the roses. "Somehow…" she repeated, as if murmuring a mantra which would save them all.

Harriet knew better to rely on prayers and miracles. Aunt Petunia had always said her prayers would forever go unanswered. She didn't belong in a church. Harriet thought it was probably more correct, what with her being a necromancer. And yet she hadn't always been a necromancer, had she? Teeth sunk into her lower lip, fear coming to bite like a snake once more.

A familiar ding rang out as Whispers of the Dead improved once more. It was improving so very quickly. She could only put that down to the fact it was always active, and she had three dead girls talking to her.

Voices of the Trees had improved quicker originally in that larger forest with more trees. Or maybe that was because the skill had been at a lower level all those weeks ago? Harriet could scarcely believe how much had changed in less than a single year. Months ago the biggest wish in her life had been for her family to love her, right then her biggest wish was to live beyond the end of the summer holidays. It wasn't like her family seemingly cared whether she lived or died right then. Uncle Vernon's words came back to her, and Harriet felt the prickling of tears in her eyes.

"Earth to Harriet?" Rose called, bending over her, peering at her with those ghostly eyes which never failed to remind her of exactly what was at stake. "You really shouldn't space out so much with everything going on… It's dangerous," she said matter-of-factly.

Harriet shifted where she knelt. "Sorry," she mumbled, bending back over to tend to the garden. She still remembered curling up in the little hollow beneath the cliff edge, fervently praying that he wouldn't find her.

"If only we could interact with people…" Elizabeth murmured, staring longingly at the flowers, and Harriet could only catch her breath as she remembered the sight of that corpse amongst those red flowers. Death had taken her from that world, as it did. Death was something which took things away. Things associated with death were never any good. Harriet only wondered what that made her. She was a necromancer, after all, and somehow she didn't think she'd forget that much anytime soon.

There was a heavy clunk, clunk sound, rhythmic and repetitive as she sat in the safety of the bushes, watching her three ghosts argue and bicker amongst themselves. The presence of Elizabeth, Harriet had long since learnt, meant that her killer wasn't too far away. Her eyes narrowed, heart thrashing around wildly in her chest as she stared at those stark red letters which hovered over nothing – the same letters which swiftly moved away.

"Eavesdropping is a bad habit, you know," a gruff voice sounded, and Harriet startled, glancing almost frantically at the skill bar she had been watching increase ever so slowly until that very moment. Though it wasn't continuing to improve. Her stealth had been seen through, somehow.

The electric blue eye seemed to whiz about within the constrains of the leather which bound it to Alastor Moody's skull. Eyeball guy was aptly named – by which Harriet meant her own nickname for the strange man. That eyeball was probably the most distinctive thing about him. It separated him from the other magical policemen though it wasn't the only thing. His robes seemed slightly different to the others – or maybe it was the thick coat he wore over himself even in the midst of summer. There was no doubt about it in her mind: Alastor Moody was weird. Strange. Perhaps 'freakish' even. Like her. Though, really, Harriet doubted that there was anyone out there who was anything like her.

Still, it was a nice thought to entertain… that there was somebody out there like her…

Interesting and frankly terrifying as that first blue box had made her life, she doubted anyone else had a life akin to that of a game. It was simply too strange – like something out of one of those magical fantasy books she read in secret when her aunt and uncle weren't looking.

"Have you caught him yet?" The words which fell from her lips surprised her, and she looked determinedly at her kneecaps.

She could feel those eyes on her skin, and the sensation was like ants crawling over her skin. Like hands too warm and too big tracing over her flesh. Shaking her head, she tried to force the thought back into the dark box it had crept from. She didn't like being stared at, she had long since realised – something which had arisen after Ian Strange. She didn't like attention. She wasn't used to it. Unlike Dudley, she mused, the amount of bitterness which welled up at such a thought almost surprised her. Though she supposed there was a part of her which had always been jealous of him.

"Not yet," Mr Moody answered her flatly, and Harriet could only tilt her head and find the courage to peer up at him through dark lashes. "He's a slippery bastard, this one."

"Oh," the sound that escaped her was one of disappointment. Though she had already known as much, what with the fact he'd been lurking close by all too recently.

"You should go home," he said, gnarled face twisting in a frown. "You're the type of girl that bastard would target. Go home, and stay home – and remember CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Harriet startled at the shout, lingering questions forgotten as the auror called Alastor Moody swept by with that distinct clunk, clunk sound following him. She felt vaguely as though a whirlwind had just passed by, the shout of constant vigilance ringing in her ears as she shuffled back inside. He was still out there, after all. Maybe his words had some merit to them… A soft smile curled at her lips which soon thinned out. Her and the three ghosts would probably be able to keep up a constant watch between the four of them. She wouldn't be caught by surprise, Harriet vowed.

It was a terrible day.

Harriet should have known from the very start that things were going to go terribly that very day. Dark bluish shadows had taken up permanent residence beneath her eyes, nightmares keeping her up night after night as she tried to figure things out. Tried to figure out why Ian Strange, Elizabeth Eckins, and the faceless invisible killer kept her waking up in a cold sweat.

"Useless girl!" the shriek made her flinch. Truly, she lived up to the epithet of 'flinchy'. The thought of it – of Charly and her hissed, scathing, biting comments – made her teeth grind together as some long dormant anger started to stir from within her.

Good girls weren't supposed to be angry, Harriet vaguely remembered from one of Aunt Petunia's overheard conversations. She had tried so long to be a good girl, and yet… what had it done for her? Harriet could only ponder on such a thing as she found herself thrown out into the garden and left to do the weeding and other tasks amidst the flowers.

Perhaps had it been a good week and a bit ago, she would have liked such a thing. As it was, she was all too aware of her invisible stalker. The invisible hunter who, Rose had confirmed grimly, had set his sights on her finally. The bastard who had killed the girls who's only mistake had been looking too much like Harriet Potter had finally moved onto targeting Harriet Potter herself.

The thought that the only one who would be dying thanks to her appearance was the one he was obsessed over comforted her ever so slightly – in fact, it was the only sense of comfort she had somehow managed to scrounge up.

"You're not supposed to take comfort in something like that, you utter imbecile!" Charly's words rang in her ears, and her shoulders only slumped even as the sun sunk lower on the horizon. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon still hadn't let her in, and her stomach was twisting in on itself in hunger as she sat on the step, watching as the sun went and twilight came.

She knocked almost hesitantly on the back door, hairs up on end as she wondered silently why her aunt and uncle weren't letting her in, even so she could scurry inside her cupboard out of sight and out of mind. She swallowed thickly, remembering those few evenings when her aunt and uncle had forgotten about her – the nights when she had, before, obliviously camped in the outside world, clueless as to the dangers which could have been. The dangers which hadn't existed back then. "Aunt Petunia…" she called softly, knocking on the door that much harder as panic settled into her bones, the abrupt feeling that something bad was about to happen materialising.

"Harriet?" the soft, crackly voice of Rose came to her then, a panicked look on her face. "What are you doing out here so late? Get inside! He's—"

Ding.

Her heart skipped a beat, fear and resignation stirring as she stared at that far, far too familiar damning blue box which had appeared before her right then and there. The same box which told her what her fate would be should she fail.

[AN EMERGENCY QUEST HAS BEEN ISSUED!]

[EMERGENCY QUEST]

[There is someone nearby who intends to harm the player!]

• Evade your enemy's clutches successfully. Run, hide, or fight – the choice is yours!

• [BONUS QUEST] Eliminate your enemy!

[REWARDS: +400 EXP, +2 STAT POINTS]

[BONUS QUEST REWARDS: ?]

[FAILURE: SEXUAL ASSAULT, TORTURE, DEATH]

"Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia!" she called, a note of panic entering her voice, even as she muttered under her breath. "Detect Enemies. Observation."

[ALERT! Enemies Detected! (Count: 4)]

Her hands bashed against the window of the door fruitlessly, fingers scrambling to pull open the locked door. Lips parted, ready to scream again, but the cold feeling in her chest made them close with a soft pop. Why was she even bothering to call for help? It wasn't like anyone would believe her if she told them that the invisible magical serial killer was there. It wasn't like people tended to listen to her, anyway.

She only had herself.

"Nature Magic," she murmured, turning then, spying the red question marks moving, slipping out from the shadows at the bottom of the garden. "Overboost, Nature Magic," she mumbled softly to herself, fear making her mouth feel dryer than a desert. "Overboost, Nature Magic," she repeated, and then repeated again for a third time, the darkening garden lit up ever so slightly by the light she knew emanated from her eyes as she reached a new mastery of Nature Magic.

Creeping vines surged forth from the shadows, tree roots erupting from the ground, tripping and then enfolding the invisible figure beneath those red question marks in their grasp, and Harriet could only breathe a sigh of hesitant relief. She had caught him. A smile curled at her lips—

Crack.

A sound akin to that of a car backfiring rent the air.

"Harriet!" Rose yelled, static crackling as Harriet stared at the red question marks which were suddenly free from the mess of roots and vines and a lot closer to her. "Wizards can teleport!"

She splayed a hand out, willing those vines and trees to move once more, wondering how she was supposed to face someone who could use magic, she remembered belatedly. Another crack rent the air, and Harriet froze, feeling a rush of air behind her – from where she had turned to face the invisible man.

"Harriet," an unfamiliar voice crooned.

Harriet spun, eyes wide as she spotted the hand which had appeared from the folds of the air which seemed to shimmer and ripple as some sort of invisible fabric moved. The vines which trailed up the wall of the house tore through the air, snatching at the hand.

"Incredible," that same voice murmured, amazed and awed at what she was doing for some reason. "You really are so special, Harry," he said, and Harriet was struck by the fact that she needed to get inside – get away from the invisible murderer. "Your heart… if it's your heart, then he'll have to notice me…"

Harriet glanced at the door, heart thudding in her chest as vines started to drop to the ground, cut by some unseen force. All too aware of the timer ticking away on the overboost, she looked at the lock on the door, knowing without a doubt that it needed to unlock. She would die if it didn't—

Click.

Her hands wrenched the handle down, yanking open the door, even as she felt fingers brush against the back of her shirt, searching for purchase they didn't find as she all but fell into the kitchen. She landed hard on the cool floor, rolling onto her back, fear surging as she stared at the red letters just outside the open door—

[EMERGENCY QUEST COMPLETE!]

[EMERGENCY BONUS QUEST FAILED!]

"Eh?" the grunt escaped her, and she could only watch as his hand seemed to collide with something solid where there should have only been air. It was wrenched back with a pained hiss, and Harriet was on her feet and slamming the door shut in an instant.

? ? – Lvl.? – Age:? – The Acolyte of ?

"That was too close," Rose murmured, her staticky voice making Harriet jump as she stood there in the almost deafening silence.

Somehow, she'd made it.