It had been a very long night for young Harriet Potter. Although she kept telling herself that she had nothing to worry about and that she could use the evening to rest before meeting her grandparents, or her presumed parents, she could not sleep. She felt selfish for leaving the battlefield that was Hogwarts in her time in order to seek refuge in 1943 with the most powerful wizard of her time. Of course, she knew she had a purpose - to get closer to Tom Marvolo Riddle and prevent him from reaching the same pinnacles as before. So she had to try to befriend the most dangerous man her world had ever known, and she couldn't reconcile herself to this more than preposterous idea.
Besides, to claim that she was anxious to meet members of her family would be a massive understatement. Harriet had never had the opportunity to talk to family members who shared the same world as her - except for the Dursleys, who only wanted to know the minimum about her insane life, as they described it.
Finding herself in the same dormitory where she had spent the previous year trying to figure out what Voldemort's agenda was did not make her feel better. By the time the sun began to shine on the rest of the school, she was already prepared to go for a walk by the lake. She had realized the day before that the castle hadn't changed in half a century and that she wouldn't discover much - however, she could continue her traditions. In the six years since she had taken up residence at the school, she had become accustomed to coming to calm down and hide from view near the trees overlooking the massive cluster of water.
The burden of her decision had just really hit her as she found herself staring anxiously at the Astronomy Tower. Harriet had been so preoccupied with her encounter with Tom Riddle - Voldemort more like - and the need to find and warn Dumbledore that she had barely paid attention to the traumatic events she had experienced a few hours earlier.
Most shocking was the Potions teacher's reaction when he spotted her rummaging through the Headmaster's many drawers. She knew that he was quick and smart and that if he had wanted to hex her, he could have easily done so without her being able to fight back or do anything. Part of her refused to listen to the voice of reason, the one that told her that it was not his intention to harm her and that he had probably helped her by delaying the Death Eaters rushing after him to get into the late Dumbledore's office. But she had seen it - she had been there when he had uttered the two words required to steal anyone's life. She had seen the potent and bright green jet collide with the old man, already looking exhausted and resigned, ready to join Death waiting for him with open arms.
The young redhead didn't even realize that she had dropped her contemplation of the wonderful landscape of Hogwarts and was heading towards the Transfiguration teacher's office. Of course, she must have passed by the Great Hall and was surprised to see the difference in the tapestries and in particular, the number of students at the table. There were so many more young people overlooking the tables than in her day and Harriet realized again how much the war against Voldemort before her birth must have impacted the lives of many families and in particular the number of students attending Hogwarts.
Although the young woman considered herself smart enough as a regular, she couldn't help but pinch herself when she met the tumultuous gray eyes of a certain prefect dressed in black. Harriet would never get used to his presence - she was sure of it. How could she walk quietly knowing that the person planning to destroy her entourage and her friends' families was walking through the same corridors with total impunity? However, that was not the most shocking her was a dashing young man with a casual demeanor and eyes so bright blue she could have drowned in them. That look, that smile and that look... she could have recognized him anywhere. She knew there was no way Sirius could have been there at that era, but she also knew that his father had been at Hogwarts at the same time as the Dark Lord and had been one of the first to join him in his quest for power. With a doubtful pout, the young redhead also made the connection with her godfather's shrewish mother - that surely meant that Walburga Black was studying at the same time at the prestigious school of magic.
A certain feeling of detachment took hold of the young Potter as she realized that she was going to have to be around the ancestors of all her acquaintances. The ones she'd always heard awful, chilling stories about: they would be sharing the same classes as her and she could do nothing but smile and put her animosity aside so as not to arouse suspicion about her presence. With a sigh of resignation, Harriet continued on her way to Dumbledore to catch a Portkey that would take them to the Potter ancestral home.
For some surprising reason that he couldn't fathom, Tom Riddle had not been able to sleep. Since his interaction with the young woman the night before, he had been unable to think of anything else. He was sure that the Potters had never had any offspring: they were a well-known family with a strong attachment to tradition. It was obvious that they would have insisted that she follow the same path as the rest of them. Besides, given their status as a blood family, she should have already had a fiancé at her age.
He didn't know how young women behaved on the continent, but he was sure she dressed with a little more decency than the redhead he had had the misfortune to meet the day before. Thinking again of her transparent blouse and the pants marking generously her curves, Tom could not prevent himself from coughing in order to move away this foreign sensation which threatened to make him blush.
Harriet Potter had simply ignored him when he wished her a good evening and generously showed her the entrance to his house. Humility was not a quality Tom was known for and he knew how young women perceived him. Why was this one so different?
And her gaze...
This is what had kept him awake at night. The green eyes had not left his thoughts. The young Slytherin was deep in thought, scheming and focused on her and almost missed the presence of the one person at fault for his lack of sleep. He was almost proud to feel her look of admiration before realizing that the object of such fascination was none other than Orion Black. Orion Black? Although he belongs to a famous and ancient family, Tom did not understand why she would be enthralled by him without having spoken to him beforehand. He hardly had the time to decipher the strange feeling of anger in him that she was already elsewhere.
Harriet Potter had never had the opportunity to own anything until she was eleven years old. The day she learned that she actually had a bank account and that her family had left her property, she was so surprised and overwhelmed that she couldn't speak.
She had always known that her family was wealthy before - especially in her grandparents' time. But she still wasn't used to the prospect: especially since she had only recently learned that her grandfather had invented many potions for sale, and that she would always receive the profits at the end of each year.
However, she was not expecting the size of the house - or should I say mansion? - standing in front of her. This was where her father had grown up? she couldn't imagine James Potter walking around and playing as a child among the various expensive-looking objects.
Her biggest surprise, however, was to find herself face to face with a perfect copy of her father staring at her with the utmost apprehension. She could not hold back the tears any longer and had to sit down to regain her composure.
Harriet had left it to Dumbledore to explain the situation to them: she didn't trust his tone of voice and was afraid she would burst into tears if she ever started to unravel the sequence of events that had clouded her life and why she needed their help.
- You're telling me I'll have a son in a few years...who will end up dead before he's even 21?
The young redhead looked up and met the almost maternal gaze of the one who could have been her grandmother. Taking her courage in both hands, she decided to explain the situation.
- I know that this may seem absurd and inconceivable to you. I'll understand if you don't want to help me, but I want you to know...I want you to know that it feels so good to meet you.
There were so many words that came to mind to convince them to help her but she couldn't bring herself to say them. Indeed, she did not want to twist their arms.
- I was raised by my mother's family - her sister and husband were horrible to me. They made me sleep in a closet under the tiny stairs for years: until I was too big to actually fit.
She took another breath and didn't dare look at the family members around her. Harriet suddenly felt a hand wrap around hers and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been such a long time since she'd had human contact like that & she felt reassured that she hadn't scared them off.
- I didn't know my parents had gone to Hogwarts - I didn't know anything about them. I was just told that they died in a car accident, and that's where I got my scar.
The young woman plucked up her courage and showed them the deformity on her forehead that had made her famous.
- They call me the Chosen One, because I am the only person to have survived an Avada Kadavra. This is where my mother sacrificed her life for mine, and I realize I could find another way, but it would be an honor to live for a few moments as a Potter.
Without further ado, she felt a pair of arms embrace her. It took her a few moments to realize that Helene Potter had hugged her to comfort her. It reminded her vaguely of Mrs. Weasley - she used to hug and cuddle her every chance she got to make up for living with the Dursleys. The man in front of her, the one who was a spitting image of her late father, gently walked over to the two ladies and took the young redhead's hand.
- It would be an honor to take you in and accept you into the family, but before that, I need one last confirmation. We have very old wards that only let the Potters into certain rooms in the manor. Would you like to follow me?
Tom had spent the rest of the day trying to find Harriet Potter. He had also noticed the absence of the Transfiguration teacher, which troubled him deeply.
If he focused only on the evidence in front of him, the story might have been credible. She had arrived in the middle of the night, covered in blood and wounds, and had insisted on speaking with Dumbledore. However, he did not believe their little story.
There was too much doubt: why would a Potter have studied anywhere but Hogwarts? Frustrated with his train of thought, the young Slytherin heir gestured for Abraxas to come closer to him.
- I'm going to need you to do some research for me. And quickly.