Harriet Potter had not dared to move for about an hour. She knew exactly where she was - on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, near Hagrid's cabin. She didn't feel ready to do anything, let alone explain to those involved and those who were supposed to help her the extent and gravity of what was happening.
She knew the old man would not doubt her words: she had the letter he had taken the trouble to write, the many vials of memories Dumbledore had insisted she take with her, and her own memory - hundreds of memories that would allow the powerful wizard to verify his words.
However, the young redhead knew that she had to try to keep the traumatic image of her mentor's death in the back of her mind. She still couldn't get over it: in her eyes, Albus Dumbledore was invincible. How could one green spell have defeated this esteemed man?
Harriet had survived that same spell 15 years earlier and part of her hoped she wasn't the only one who had made it through.
She also knew that she was going to have to deal with the same person who had ruined her life for reasons that were far too selfish for her to understand or comprehend. The young woman had survived many obstacles, far too many adventures for someone her age and she knew she could go through them again if she had to. But she also had to admit that having the life of Harriet Lily Potter was far too tumultuous for anyone else.
She had often wondered if another person would have followed the same path as her: to keep fighting for the good of others. She wished she felt braver than others, braver and stronger. But after living with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley that their courage was perhaps much stronger than hers.
Indeed, this burden was not theirs. Yet they had always insisted on helping her, even in the most perilous situations and at the risk of their lives.
No.
No.
No.
If she started thinking about her friends and all the people she had left behind, she wouldn't be able to get through it. The only thing she had to think about and focus on from now on was talking to Albus Dumbledore. But how could she do that when she had just witnessed his death a few hours ago?
Deciding to push these questions to the back of her mind and not let them darken her mood any further. It was painful enough to have left everyone behind, but if she also had to focus on the immeasurable void her surroundings would leave in her, she wouldn't make it. Harriet huffed and stood up once and for all, determined to follow the plan she had concocted with Dumbledore's help.
She had learned that he was a Transfiguration teacher at the time and that he had always managed to convince former Headmaster Armando Dippet of her good faith and that he would not doubt for a moment the words presented by his most dedicated employee.
So she started walking with one goal in mind: the office that belonged to Minerva McGonagall in her day. It was located off of the first-floor corridor, to the right of a staircase ascending to the Serpentine Corridor on the third-floor, having a full view of Hagrid's hut.
The young redhead was cloaked in her invisibility cloak, and if there was ever a time when she cherished this heirloom, it was then. Indeed, she had in front of her the object of all her hate and all her fear. Harriet knew full well that he could not see her because of the magnitude of his cloak's powers, but she had the strange impression that he could see right through it and knew there was danger.
Panicked and confused, she sped up her steps, not caring to make any noise. Being in front of her worst enemy was already too confusing for her and she didn't want to suffer this pressure around her rib cage any longer than necessary. She felt that if she stayed even a moment longer around him, she might suffocate.
By sheer luck, or perhaps Fate had finally decided to give her a chance, she arrived at the same time as her former principal and snuck into his office at the same time.
As soon as he closed the door, she let the cloak fall down her shoulders and stared with tearful eyes at the first person she had considered family since her birth and especially since her introduction to the incredible world of wizards.
Albus Dumbledore had felt something change in the air. He had lived a long time and learned a lot during his life, especially the feeling that everyone's magic left in its wake. It turned out that the magic weighing heavily in the castle corridors was his, and although he was still as moody and casual as he had been in his youth, he was sure he had done nothing spectacular to account for this suffocating presence of magic.
A small voice in the back of his mind whispered in his ear what he had already understood from the first second. It's time to go to my office and see what could have caused this wave of power.
To say the professor was stunned to meet the redheaded girl's gaze as she dropped an invisibility cloak-which he knew well and whose unique power he knew, would be an understatement. To say he was shocked to see her so disheveled and in clothes far too modern for their time would be an euphemism.
However, the girl's distress could be felt in every corner of the room and Albus did not resign himself to pushing her away. He didn't know her story, but he knew he was involved and the affection she seemed to have for him was an indication of her good faith. The eyes are the window to the soul and it was obvious that the young redhead looked utterly destroyed and if he could grant her a few moments of sweetness and tranquility, he would not refuse.
After a few minutes of quietness, bordered by slight sobs that he pretended not to notice, the Transfiguration professor gently grabbed the young woman's shoulders and directed her to one of the armchairs in his office. Albus took another look at the young woman's dirty, decrepit appearance and felt his heart clench.
He didn't know what could have brought her back to his office and how she could have gotten her hands on relics, but he owed it to himself to help her in some way.
- I don't mean to sound abrupt or pushy, but perhaps I can be of more help to you if you could explain why you're here, Miss...?
Finding herself in the arms of her former principal after witnessing his murder was the last straw for the young woman's psyche.
She took the time to regain her composure and let the tears flow before she could speak - convinced that explaining the situation directly without showing the distress she was in might be more helpful in convincing her audience.
Although she wasn't lying and she wasn't planning on hiding anything, she knew that Dumbledore was always careful. She hoped that the contents of the letter and the memories would be enough.
- What I'm about to tell you will seem incongruous, but that's the whole story. My name is Harriet Potter and you sent me here with one of your latest creations...in 1997.
The man's gaze quickly became perplexed and Harriet hurried to empty the contents of her bag. She handed him the envelope carefully sealed with Albus Dumbledore's name and took out the various vials glowing a piercing blue.
- It might be time to get out your Pensieve...
After what seemed like long hours, she was reassured to see the hint of mischief in her mentor's kindly eyes.
- Well, Miss Potter, it seems I need to contact the Potter family quickly to arrange your family connection. While I suspect you can find your way to Gryffindor Tower, allow me to ask one of our best students to escort you home.
Harriet felt her heart clench and her throat knot. She knew exactly where Dumbledore was going with this, but she didn't feel ready to face him, not now. Not ever really.
Without giving her time to speak, the door suddenly opened and behind it was the object of all her nightmares. Tom Marvolo Riddle, in the flesh, had just been caught red-handed spying on Albus Dumbledore.