Two days after the trial
Since her meeting with Lord Black, Harriet slept soundly each night, the Pacifier underneath her pillow or clutched in her hand. When she wasn't reading, trying foods she'd never heard of before, or touring Diagon district with her guardian, Harriet was getting to know the interior of the Auror Office and meeting all sorts of Ministry employees. The story at the office was that Harriet was a relative of Ada's whose parents had gone on a trip overseas.
The girl wished it was true—that she was Ada's cousin, or niece, or sister… or even daughter.
Today she was at the Ministry, reading from the books Ada had gotten her while the Auror was busy with desk work. Harriet had four of them now—Ada had bought a small adventure novel without mentioning it and slipped it onto her bedside table the previous day. Evidently, she was worried her ward had been reading from too many technical texts.
When she saw the novel sitting by her bedside with a small handwritten note perched on top, Harriet cried into her blanket.
She didn't think she ever loved her aunt or uncle, though she'd tried. Children were supposed to love their parents. Dudley probably loved Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but they also fed him ten kilos of bacon a week.
This quiet gift came with no expectation of acknowledgement. It stunned her. It was warm, like a hug, though Ada was in the next room.
If that was love, then that was why she cried—because she'd never felt it before.
Harriet decided. Though the worst day of her life had been five days ago, today was going to be the best one. And the next one would be even better.
Captain Moody showed up in the middle of her reading, once again asking to see Harriet's Pacifier. She hadn't let him touch it, though she did show it to him. The amount of dark smoke at the centre of the mist had expanded slightly, eating up some of the white cloud. He frowned at that, then stumped away, mumbling under his breath.
Later, she met some of the other people who knew her identity. The most memorable of them was the Head Auror, a man with a last name like Scrub-grower… or Grim Jogger? Harriet couldn't remember. Anyway, he was tall, with a fierce set to his jaw and a lion-like mane of hair. He visited Ada's office with his Deputy Head Robards in tow, who was an imposing figure in his own right. Ada acted more respectfully towards these two men than she'd acted with anyone else, even the Minister (a thoroughly forgettable pudgy man in a bowler hat).
They took Harriet into a side chamber, asking her a few questions before bringing up the topic that she'd hoped they wouldn't.
"Heiress Potter," said the Head Auror, "With the trial over and your Obscurus situation more or less resolved, we're looking into securing something more permanent than your current arrangement with Auror Detective Woods."
They were taking her away from Miss Ada?
"You have my apologies for the suddenness of this, but we're in a bit of a rush, seeing as we've just discovered that you're without a magical guardian. Legally speaking, that's problematic in several ways. For a start, it means you technically aren't a member of our society."
Harriet's heart dropped. 'That's right. They're throwing me back to the muggle world. I knew this would happen. Why did I believe—'
"it's nothing to worry about," the Head Auror quickly amended. "It just means we've got to locate a suitable family among the nobility for you."
Her breathing slowed, and Harriet focused her eyes on the man. He said "among the nobility." She wasn't leaving the magical world. But she was still leaving.
"Due to your status as the Heiress of a Noble and Ancient House, it would be improper for a lesser-ranked house to adopt you. Typically, it's the responsibility of the Founding Families to adopt any orphans of their vassal houses. The Potters were subordinate to the Gryffindors. How does that sound? The Gryffindors are the heart of wizarding Britain. Noble, brave…"
Harriet remembered reading about the Gryffindors. They were a Noble and Most Ancient House, just like the Blacks. They had a House of their own in Hogwarts, just like the Hufflepuffs, but unlike the latter, the Gryffindors were a line of fierce warriors, with a personal mercenary-army known as the Lion Guard that often assisted the Auror Office in apprehending dark wizards. They owned a lot of the land up north, in Scotland.
But what did she care about a few lines in a book? She didn't reply to the man.
"Rufus," said Robards, "The Minister said that we should give her a choice."
'Rufus' coughed. "The Gryffindors would have been the simplest option," he said. "No other families have a legal obligation to adopt you. And the Gryffindors would accept you with open arms, even if they didn't."
The Deputy Head scoffed. "What house in the country would turn away the Girl-Who-Lived?"
Rufus fished around in his pockets, pulling forth a slim book. "Yes. Well, here's a primer, Heiress Potter," he explained. "In there's a list of all the Noble and Ancient Houses and Founding Families, with a brief description. Take your time, look it over. But we will need your answer in two days."
"Whichever one you choose," interjected Robards, "the Ministry won't make a big fuss. This won't be a public matter, at least not until you turn eleven and start attending school."
The two men got up and left, and Ada came back in a minute later to find the girl sitting very still, clenching a book with whitened knuckles.
She'd checked, just to be sure, but the House of Wood wasn't on the primer.
Three days after the trial
It was the morning of the day the Dursleys were due to be administered some sort of "kiss." Though Harriet never worked up the courage to ask Ada what it entailed, the detective seemed keen on avoiding the topic entirely, so she didn't mind letting it go. She'd never have to see her aunt and uncle ever again, so she decided to follow Lord Black's suggestion and try to forget all about them.
She had other problems to deal with now. At the moment, she was trying to forget them by playing a game of wizarding chess with Micah. So far, she'd succeeded in forgetting her real problems and was instead faced with the problem of getting trounced, even with a constant stream of advice from the young wizard.
"That's check next turn if you don't do something about it, Harriet," said Micah.
Her first name felt a little over-familiar coming from the young trainee (though she didn't mind when Ada did it). Still, Micah had to refer to her by it since a clerk came by yesterday and overheard him calling her 'Miss Potter.'
"Potter? As in Harriet Potter?" choked out the surprised Ministry employee.
It seemed her last name was more famous than her first.
Ada had immediately stomped over and dragged the poor clerk away. When she returned, she lambasted Micah. The lecture reminded Harriet a little of Aunt Petunia's reaction the time Harriet called her "mum" when she was four, though with less slapping.
Harriet furrowed her brow in thought. Ada had seemed especially tense this morning, sequestering herself in her office after checking that her ward was alright, and it was making the girl anxious as well.
"Harriet," prodded Micah.
The girl flinched, returning her attention to the game board.
Squinting, she pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Um. Knight, to—"
Micah coughed. "Look at your bishop," he muttered into his hand.
She paused, eyes widening. 'Oh. That would have been bad.'
But the knight wasn't having it. "Oi! You taking the piss, you mop-domed oaf?! The girl was about to choose me! Let me at him, girl! I'll give that slimy king a right thrashing!"
Harriet said, "Sorry, Mr. Knight. Bishop to, er, D3."
The piece she selected didn't move.
"Try being more forceful," suggested Micah.
"Mr. Bishop… please?"
The bishop sluggishly crawled over to D3, where it was promptly smashed to bits by Micah's rook. Still, it cleared the way for Harriet to move her queen out of danger and steal a pawn, allowing the game to continue for another few turns.
That was when a red envelope shot into the room and burst into flames.
"A MURDER HAS BEEN COMMITTED IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY. AUROR DETECTIVE WOOD IS TO ASSIST THE ARMY CORPS IN THEIR INVESTIGATION. REPORT TO THE MOBILIZATION CHAMBER TO RECEIVE HER BRIEFING AND PORTKEY."
Ada appeared in the doorway of her office, mouth set in a firm line.
Micah stood up hurriedly, abandoning the chess board. "Ada, let me come with—"
"Don't be an idiot," she cut him off. "Someone has to stay here with Harriet."
"A-ah. Right," he said.
"Besides, I wasn't supposed to be on active rotation. Not with Harriet here."
Micah frowned. "You're right. Do you want me to head down and see what's going on?"
"No," she shook her head. "This could be time sensitive. Do me a favour and contact Captain Moody so you aren't alone with her for long. This could take me the rest of the day."
"Righto, m'lady. Contact Moody." He started fishing around in his robe pockets. "Be careful out there, will you?"
"I'm always careful," she said, already striding away.
Ada's echoing footsteps soon receded down the hall, leaving the two of them alone.
'A murder?' thought Harriet, a shiver working its way through her. 'I hope she doesn't find the murderer.'
"Chin up, Harriet," said Micah, pulling a quill from his pockets. "She'll be fine. She might not look it, but that woman is a Grade 2 duellist."
That didn't mean anything to the girl. It must have shown on her face, because Micah quickly elaborated.
"Hey—that means she's good! Really good! Grade 2 puts her on the level of an Auror Captain. The only reason she hasn't been made one yet is because she's still too young. As far as the Office is concerned, she's a candidate for the Head Auror position in the next thirty-odd years. To tell the truth, I lucked out when she chose me as her partner. Most trainees get stuck in a squad with three sweaty old wizards and we have to fetch them tea all day. Happened to my friend from basic training."
"But you fetch Miss Ada tea all the time," said Harriet.
Micah grinned. "Sure, but she isn't a sweaty old wizard, is she?"
Harriet couldn't help the giggles that escaped her.
"Ah," sighed Micah, "If only she'd take me on a few more missions… whoops! Look at me getting all distracted! I need to do what Ada asked. Letter to the captain, letter to the captain…" he muttered, jogging over to the desk and opening a drawer, pulling out a sheaf of paper, and scrawling a quick note on it. When he was done, he waved his wand. It folded up into an aeroplane and glided out the door.
"Now then. While we wait, shall we continue our game?"
She'd been checkmated in four turns.
'It's like playing poker with Captain Moody.'
Footsteps sounded out in the hall, getting louder. Something struck the ground at a measured rate. At first, Harriet thought it was Moody walking down the hall with his staff, but something about the sound was off. Moody had a wooden leg in addition to his wooden staff, but instead of two hard footfalls, there was only one.
'It's someone with a cane.'
When Cygnus Black rounded the corner to the office, it was like a bolt of lightning struck Micah.
"L-Lord Black!" he exclaimed, springing up from his chair and wiping his hands against the hem of his robes. "I—er, wasn't expecting—what can I do for you?"
The Head of House Black bowed his head to peer at the girl, inky hair swirling about his shoulders. "Greetings, Heiress Potter. Trainee Michael."
Micah didn't even correct the man on his name, which went to show how cowed he must have been.
Cygnus limped over to the table where she was seated. Micah hurriedly vacated his spot for the man, who sat stiffly.
A brief silence fell over the room as Lord Black settled into the chair. Harriet changed her mind on his appearance. She'd done more reading over the last two days, and decided that he didn't look like a vampire, but rather like the pictures of mummies she'd seen in the Bestiarium Magicum, in the dark creatures section. He was as dry as a preserved corpse, but his eyes were nothing if not alive, not to mention his eerily long, silken hair.
"Heiress Potter. While I would be much obliged on any other occasion, I'm afraid I'm not here for idle pleasantries. It pains me to admit this, as I had just promised you free use of the artifact, but a rather embarrassing situation has arisen in my family."
She had a bad feeling about this.
He paused to clear his throat, clearly uncomfortable with admitting it. "I shall shortly have need of that Pacifier I lent you."
It felt like a stone had fallen into the pit of Harriet's stomach. Her hand reflexively darted to the large pocket in her robes, where she'd taken to leaving the glass orb. Her fingers brushed against its comforting smoothness, her vision going blurry as tears threatened to spill out.
"N-now, Lord Black, surely there's some other way…" started Micah. "That Pacifier has done a lot for Ha—Heiress Potter."
"Trust me when I say I wouldn't do this if there were any other method. Perhaps…" the man frowned, looking thoughtful. Then, he turned to Harriet. "May I see the Pacifier? I won't take it right away, I promise. I just need a look."
Tentatively, she brought it out and showed it to the pale man.
"As I thought… it has a great deal of capacity. How about this?" He turned to Micah. "Bring me a piece of parchment."
The Auror Trainee hurried off to his desk. While he was busy, Lord Black continued.
"A scheduled exchange would work. The individual in my house who has need of the Pacifier is quite young as well, so the two of you shouldn't encounter any problems sharing it. How about a trading cycle? You can have it for three days, then we will use it, and after another three days pass, you can have it back."
Harriet sat straight up. "Yes! Yes, please!"
Anything was better than no Pacifier.
Micah returned with the parchment, handing it off to Cygnus, who spread it out by the chess board. Then, he waved his wand over the parchment, murmuring under his breath. As he moved his wand, letters burned into the paper. Fascinated, Harriet watched him work for three minutes until the parchment was covered by line after line of dense script.
Once half of the parchment was full, he leant back, satisfied. "There. A standard exchange contract, nothing too strictly binding. All you need to do is sign, Heiress Potter. Since I gave you the Pacifier three days ago around noon, I'll send a runner here to collect it in… say, two hours."
Harriet thought that sounded fine, but when Cygnus rotated the parchment around, however, she frowned.
She couldn't read it!
"Lord Black, is that Latin?" asked Micah, peering over Harriet's shoulder.
"All contracts by the nobility are written in the old tongue. If it bothers you, I can cast a translation spell."
"No, no, that's fine," hastened Micah, waving his hands. "I'll read it for her benefit, shall I?"
When the other two acquiesced, Micah picked it up and cleared his throat.
"I, Cygnus Black, the Head of House Black, propose the following exchange between. . ."
He droned on for what seemed like ages.
". . .indicates agreement to the aforementioned transaction," finished Micah.
Harriet blinked, amazed she'd even stayed awake.
'Even getting stuck in the cupboard for a month wasn't as boring as that,' she thought.
"Does everything sound satisfactory?" asked Lord Black.
"It seems to be in order," whispered Micah in her ear. "Do you want to sign, Harriet?"
"Yes."
She was just thankful to get it over with. Micah handed her a quill and ink and, after a quick demonstration of how to use a quill and ink, she messily scrawled her name on the paper.
"Excellent," said Cygnus, standing. "I pray this works to both our benefits, Heiress Potter."
He reached out a hand, and Harriet took it, proud that an important wizard like Lord Black would shake her hand like an equal. It was too bad she couldn't monopolize the Pacifier, but she had a feeling that things would be all right even with only partial use of it.
"Well, then. You have the device for another hour and a half," he intoned. "It's time for me to return to my estate. Expect my messenger around noon."
"It was an honour, Lord Black," said Micah as the man stood.
"Um," said Harriet, faltering when the man turned to face her.
She swallowed, gathering her courage. "Thank you. For, um. For everything. For the Pacifier. And for the advice back then. I thought a lot about what you told me. But I'm a witch now. I want to be a part of your world, not the muggle one. So—" she clenched her fists, "—so thank you, sir."
Cygnus Black stood very still, stormy eyes locked on the girl's face. After what seemed like an eternity, he inclined his head.
It was shortly after Lord Black left that Micah started to grow antsy.
"Where is the captain?" he muttered.
It had been thirty minutes since he sent the letter to Moody. Frankly, Harriet was glad that cantankerous raisin of a wizard hadn't shown up yet, but Micah was a different matter.
After another few chess moves, he finally stood up. "We should go find him," he decided, clapping his hands. "Up you get, Harriet. Time for a trip to the captain's office!"
Harriet groaned, but stood up despite her reservations. She didn't feel like losing another game of chess anyway.
The two of them set out from Ada's offices at a brisk pace, walking down the empty halls of the Auror Office towards wherever Captain Moody was squirreled away. They travelled for a few minutes before coming to a room Harriet hadn't been to before. Micah paused at the door and knocked a few times. He waited a moment, but no response came, and he opened the door.
"Captain? Captain, are you in here?"
Harriet followed him in, glancing around to take in the sight of Moody's office. She was sure it would be a strange place, befitting such a strange wizard.
Immediately, she sensed something was wrong. Years of avoiding Dudley and his gang gave the girl a keen sense for violence. She couldn't have specified what it was exactly that alerted her—perhaps it was the way the door shut immediately behind her, or maybe the slight change in Micah's posture... it also could have been the invisible tension in the air, a static crackling that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
The lights winked off, and Harriet was already turning, planning to leg it right back out the door. Just as she started to move, she slammed face-first into something—someone—who hadn't been there before. She bounced off the figure, sucking in a breath at the sharp pain in her nose, and fell on her rear. She rolled with the fall, scrambling away when the unknown figure's hand descended blindly, trying to grab her.
Micah let out a yell and started firing off spells, lighting up the surroundings in flashes of red and yellow. As Harriet crawled desperately away, she caught glimpses of shrouded figures out of the corners of her eyes. There were three, possibly four of them. Including the one she'd run into, two of them were returning fire on Micah, while the others appeared to be combing the room, searching for her.
A vase shattered, fragments of pottery raining down on Harriet's head as the water inside gushed out onto the floor and soaked her knees. A table next to her was suddenly sliced in half, both ends slamming onto the ground with a deafening clatter. Harriet crawled under a nearby chair, praying that the attackers couldn't see in the dark. Praying that Micah would win.
The trainee in question screamed, making Harriet flinch. Another few spells launched off wildly into the air, hitting the ceiling. But he kept screaming, and the sound was so terrible. Had he been hit? Why didn't he stop? How could he keep—keep—?
Harriet froze. The screaming turned into something else. It wasn't screaming. It was laughter. Horrible, gut-wrenching laughter that struggled for air.
"I—I—IiiaaahaHA! I can't do it! It seems I've missed all my spells! Goodness no! Oh deary deary DEARY ME!"
As he laughed, he continued to fire off hexes, not even looking where they flew.
"Fuckin' Flobberworms!" shouted someone from the opposite side of the room. It seemed he'd taken a bolt to the leg. "The cunt gashed me!"
"Expelliarmus!" shouted a cloaked figure, a bolt of golden light shooting out and striking Micah. He staggered back a few paces as his wand leapt from his hand and into his attacker's.
"HeeHEE! I've been disarmed!" crowed the young wizard. "Merlin, what am I to do?!"
Harriet clutched the legs of the chair and stared at the silhouette of her protector with wide eyes. She didn't understand. What was he doing? Why was he laughing? Had they hit him with some sort of spell? But then why weren't the attackers doing anything? She didn't know, and it scared her more than anything.
"…Are you finished yet, Micah?" said an unfamiliar woman.
The trainee paused for air, slapping his chest. "I… I, yeah. Gimme a mo'. Whoo! I haven't fought that terribly in ages! Will that do?"
"Should be," the woman replied. "We'll have to stun and Obliviate you before we leave, but that should fool any detection magic well enough."
"Right. Good!"
A terrible premonition made the acid churn in Harriet's stomach and her breath catch in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to reach for the Pacifier, but any movement now could draw their attention to her.
'Why is he talking to them like they're friends? Is it a prank? Like one of Dudley's? But—but then why did they—'
Footsteps splashing through the puddle of water startled her out of her thoughts. By now her eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough to see by, and she peered out from under the chair, directly into Micah's grinning face. His eyes gleamed, lips curled back in a manic smile. His boyish features had been turned into something feral.
"Hey, kiddo. You sure fucked up, huh?"