One hour prior to the Fidelius
"Perhaps there's more Black in you than I thought, Heiress Potter."
Cygnus Black's words echoed around in Harriet's head as the small, wrinkled, goblin-like thing known as 'Wibbly' bathed her, tutting over all the tangles and knots in her filthy hair. Harriet had to clutch onto the edges just to ensure that she didn't drown in the enormous tub.
She felt like she'd fallen out of a nightmare and into an even stranger dream. After escaping her magical bonds and her attempt to fight back was foiled, she hadn't been bound up in ropes again, nor stuffed into a sack, but rather given a small plate of sandwiches and water as the two men spoke to each other in quiet tones. She sat as far away from them as possible, sipping her drink quietly.
Then, they informed her that she going to become their ward.
Harriet didn't understand why they'd suddenly changed their minds. Maybe it was just more lies, like the ones Micah had been telling her for days. Maybe they were still planning on killing her. Or perhaps she'd proven herself a witch when she brought forth her magic. Cygnus sounded angry with her for that, even though it probably saved her life. He'd spoken to her about it before sending her up here with Wibbly.
"You put a great strain on your magic today. I won't perform a scan, but I imagine you've only exacerbated the damage caused by your release of the Obscurus less than a week ago. If you try anything else like that, there's a good chance you will simply drop dead before any help can come. Understand?"
She shivered. Healer Thornton had said something in a similar vein—though more gently—several days ago back at the Ministry when warning her of the damage an Obscurus could cause her.
'I can't die,' she told herself. 'I've got to get better and then escape this place.'
"Missy Harry needs to stop squirming!" squeaked Wibbly, working on a particularly large knot.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Harriet endured the soapy water running down her face. The creature was more gentle than Aunt Petunia, but there was something about the long, spindly fingers running over her scalp that reminded her unpleasantly of the bony woman.
"Take care of our new guest, Wibbly," Cygnus had said. "Show her to one of the spare living quarters. Use no magic on her, however, and do not obey her commands or allow her to leave her rooms until we decide otherwise."
This creature was a jailer, as well as a maid. One who vehemently denied her whenever she wanted to do something herself. If she so much as reached for a washcloth, it just tutted and slapped her hands away like she was a misbehaving dog.
Harriet was scrubbed until her skin glowed pink. After brushing her teeth (the first thing Wibbly allowed her to do on her own) and dressing in a set of luxuriant pajamas made of some type of dark fabric, the creature brought her into the adjoining bedroom—if a room the size of Ada Wood's entire flat could be considered a "bedroom."
"Missy Harry has been through much, yes. Missy Harry needs to rest."
Harriet glanced around. Though it was all a confusing mess of blurs without her glasses, from what she could see, it looked as lavish as a medieval princess' room. She kept her head on a swivel as she absentmindedly fondled the fabric of her pajamas (how did they make them so soft?).
Perhaps she could formulate some sort of escape plan if she could see better, but even without her glasses she could tell that there were no windows here.
"Missy Harry dropped this earlier," said Wibbly, and Harriet turned to see the creature offering her something. It wasn't her glasses, as she'd hoped, but something small and solid.
Squinting at the object up close, she realized that Wibbly had given her a small wooden figure of an owl. It wasn't hers.
"I… dropped it?" she murmured. "Are you sure?"
"Missy Harry was holding it when Wibbly took her for her bath."
Looking down at her hand, she traced a few bruises on her palm. Then, she placed the owl into her hand and closed her fingers around it. It matched the bruises perfectly. That's when Harriet remembered—at the Ministry, she'd grabbed something just before her abductors bound her and stuffed her in the sack. It must have been the owl.
'Wait—didn't Miss Ada have an owl like this?'
She'd seen the Auror whispering into her palm from time to time, though she'd only caught glimpses of what it was. Looking at it closely, Harriet thought they could very well be the same thing.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she quickly stuffed the owl into her pocket.
"Come in, Master Ciggy!" said Wibbly.
The door swung open and a figure appeared in the frame. Heartbeat accelerating, Harriet squinted, but wasn't able to tell who stood there until he spoke.
"Are you feeling better, Harriet?" asked Cygnus Black.
She noted that he no longer called her "Heiress Potter." Staring at the fuzzy black patch where she imagined his head was, she nodded.
"Good. Much will happen tonight and tomorrow, so you should sleep while you can."
Wibbly guided her to the bed, helping her climb in. Cygnus lingered, wandering around the room and inspecting it as if it were a museum.
As soon as she sank into the mattress, some combination of comfort, exhaustion, and her lack of glasses imparted Harried with a sense of disconnectedness. It seemed as though the world around her were covered by an insulating woolen veil, and she voiced a question she would never have normally.
"Why did your dad change his mind about me?" she asked.
Cygnus didn't reply for a long moment as Wibbly propped cushions all around Harriet, fussing over miniscule creases on her bedsheets. When he finally spoke, his voice was slow.
"…He is your grandmother's brother. Call him Granduncle. Granduncle Pollux. And refer to me as Uncle Cygnus."
She nodded, committing the names to memory.
"The simplest answer is that you resemble someone," he said. "Someone who was once very close to father. I never took him as one for sentimentality, but… well. I didn't know Aunt Dorea well, but I imagine something he saw in you reminded him of his younger sister. She was something of a rebel, from what I understand."
She exhaled from her nose in the approximation of a laugh. 'So attacking them was the right thing to do, after all?'
The answer didn't provide relief. She still expected some sort of punishment for her actions earlier. Maybe they'd withhold food, or lock her up. Uncle Vernon might have hit her, but little about the Blacks reminded her of the rage-filled man who'd raised her. These men were colder, filled with a quiet viciousness. Like Aunt Petunia.
"I've a question of my own," Cygnus began. "You did not react when you saw your Granduncle Pollux. Why is that?"
React? How was she supposed to react? Did she do something wrong?
"You did not seem surprised by his appearance," he elaborated. "He was rather amused by that."
"I can't see," she said.
"Pardon?"
"My glasses. They were knocked off when—when they took me."
"Ahh," he murmured. "That explains it. We'll have to do something about that. Still, that is talk for later. For now, you will sleep."
"Will I—"
She cut off, realizing that the question she was about to ask might be going one step too far. Her sense of disconnection was lessening, and she began to realize that she was really here—truly resting in a bed eight times as large as her former cupboard, attended by an inhuman servant, and speaking to one of the rulers of magical Britain, who'd just abducted her.
"Go on," prodded Cygnus. He didn't sound angry.
She whispered, "Will I see Miss Ada again?"
The man fell silent, and Harriet rushed to elaborate, her fingers kneading the bedsheets. "M-my things are with her. I just want my books. It's not like I want to leave, o-or anything."
"We will need to work on your ability to lie, girl," said Cygnus.
He hadn't even referred to her as Harriet, this time, but "girl."
"No," he continued, voice harder. "You won't be seeing Detective Wood. Don't misunderstand your position. You are now a ward and prisoner of House Black. As such, you will receive every advantage that you need in order to survive. You will receive books, clothes, food. You will receive tutelage. Your Granduncle Pollux will instruct you on how to rein in your Obscurus so that you will live past the age of ten."
Harriet winced.
Cygnus went on, "I did not argue with my father to bring you in out of some misplaced affection. I argued for your adoption because I saw potential in you. Do not expect coddling."
A hint of indignation welled up in her. When had she ever expected coddling? Certainly not from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Even Detective Wood, lovely as she had been, often made Harriet uncomfortable with how much she seemed to care.
A lump formed in her throat. She didn't want to think about that.
"In return for being raised into a fine, healthy, and living witch, you will reciprocate by showing the House of Black the proper loyalty and respect. Familia ante omnia. 'Family before all.' I do not expect you to embrace this concept tonight, but in time, you will come to understand."
But she wasn't one of them. She wasn't a Black. She just wanted to return to the clocktower in Diagon. She wanted to finish those books Ada had bought her. She wanted to taste all the flavors of ice cream she'd been too intimidated to try before. She wanted to thank Mabel, the old lady who owned the café on the ground floor, for all the free pastries. She wanted to ask about the picture of those two kids in Ada's living room. She didn't want to be here—in this big, scary house alone with her kidnappers and their nebulous plans and wrinkled servants.
But when had what she wanted ever mattered before?
She was reminded once more of Judge Burke and his ruthless judgement of the Dursleys. He'd let them speak in an attempt to defend themselves, but at no point did anything they say ever make a difference. Nothing they could have said would change their fate. It had been decided before they ever set foot in the Ministry.
Her relatives didn't have the power in that courtroom. The power to decide, to mete out his own brand of justice… it all resided with the judge. Where the power lay was the difference. In this castle, Pollux and Cygnus were seated on the judge's podium, while Harriet was Uncle Vernon on the cold hard bench under the stares of the jurors.
Realizing this now, she replied the only way she could.
"Yes, sir."
One hour after the Fidelius
Harriet woke in the middle of the night, ears thudding from a nightmare she couldn't remember. Her heartbeat slowed as she felt the softness of her sheets.
She was safe. She was in the clocktower. Ada was just down the hall. Her bed was lovely and warm, even nicer than she remembered it. She stretched her arm and legs, reveling in the sensation of being able to extend without knocking against coarse, splinter-ridden walls. No more cramped cupboards for her.
Then she opened her eyes and realized she had no idea where she was.
She shot up, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. Her memories of the day before came rushing back. Ada had left, leaving her alone with Micah. Lord Black had come and she signed a contract to trade the Pacifier—she clutched for it, but the only thing in her pockets was a small owl—and then Micah had attacked her. They kidnapped her, bringing her—
She furrowed her brows.
—Bringing her somewhere underground. Two men had threatened to kill her and harvest her Obscurus. She attacked them and failed. Then, she was fed, and taken away by Wibbly and bathed. That all made sense.
But then why didn't it make any sense?
"Missy Harry! You must be brought to Master Ciggy now!" chirped a voice at her bedside.
She turned to see the small form of Wibbly standing there.
"Master Ciggy?" she asked, dazed.
"Yes, come. Come!"
The creature clutched her arm and guided her from the room, still in her pajamas. They walked a short distance down a carpeted hall until they reached a door framed on either side by two suits of armor. Wibbly knocked.
"Enter," said a muffled voice.
Hesitating, it took Wibbly urging her for Harriet to walk through the door. She squinted, trying to make this place out. It was a circular office of sorts, filled with bookshelves, but beyond that, she was clueless.
"I imagine you are somewhat confused."
The voice was Cygnus Black's.
"Er, I-I suppose," she said.
'Why is he here? Wait, he's been here. I talked to him before I went to sleep. Why can't I remember what we talked about? Is he here to help me?'
Harriet felt the need to lie down. She was starting to develop a headache trying to work out what was going on.
"Let's not drag this on any longer than it needs to be," said Cygnus. "Wibbly, have her hold this lantern."
The servant fetched something off of Cygnus' desk and approached Harriet, who hesitantly laid a palm on it. It didn't look exactly like a lantern. It was some sort of purple crystal bound in a metal frame. The light coming from it was dim, and it was freezing to the touch.
Cygnus spoke. "Harriet Lily Potter has been taken in by the House of Black."
And it all came flooding back.
Harriet staggered back, holding a hand to her head as memories returned. The Blacks, the plot to imprison her, and her adoption as their ward. The fuzzy memories cleared up in an instant.
"How-wha—" she sputtered.
'How did I forget all of that?!'
Cygnus said, "A spell known as the Fidelius Charm was cast on this night. This spell is like a memory charm—but a far more powerful adaptation. One that affects the entire world."
'A spell? So that's why I forgot all those things—wait, did he say the world?'
"Listen well. Every other person on this world other than your granduncle, myself, and our house-elves are like you were one minute ago—not just unable to remember, but unable to comprehend the truth that you were taken in by this family. Do you understand what that means?"
Harriet blinked. She thought she understood the words, but the concept was too large for her to wrap her mind around. But whatever it meant, it sounded foreboding.
"Yes, sir," she lied.
Cygnus steepled his hands, peering down at her. "It means that no one will be coming for you. Any searches for you will be fruitless. Efforts to divine your location will be unsuccessful. Attempts you make to tell others what happened to you will fail. While you reside within Castle Black, you are no longer you. If you tell others your name, they will either think you lying or imagine you are some other girl named Harriet Potter. Does that clear things up? The Fidelius obscures your abduction from the world perfectly."
'He's lying. He has to be lying. You can't do that.'
"You will have to adopt a new identity, but that's a matter for tomorrow."
Harriet stared at Cygnus' figure in disbelief. How could magic do something like that? She wanted to refuse to believe it on principal. But a minute ago, she hadn't been aware of her own circumstances beyond the fact that she was kidnapped. Even seeing Cygnus just now made her think he was here to help her, when that couldn't be the furthest thing from the truth.
He wasn't lying. She wished he was.
'Magic powerful enough to make the whole world forget something…'
"Understand this, Harriet." he said. "To enter a Founding Family is to enter a house of secrets; of truths far murkier than the abduction of a single girl. You haven't yet scratched the surface." His lips twitched. "Even the three houses of Light have skeletons best left buried and forgotten. Now, return to your bed. Breakfast is at seven o'clock sharp. I expect to see you there. Wibbly."
The servant bowed deeply, then took Harriet's hand, leading her from the office and her back to the giant room.
Harriet followed Wibbly in a daze. As formless anxiety started to bubble up in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't help but wonder where the Pacifier had gone.