Through The Valley
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: After the Ministry of Magic, everything has changed. Voldemort is out in the open, the government is floundering, and all eyes are on Ariana Potter, who just wants to get through her sixth year at Hogwarts without a mental breakdown. OOC. fem!Harry AU.
Through The Valley
Chapter One:
As Ariana Potter studied her OWL results, it was apparent her hard work - the endless hours of studying, tutoring others, the countless flash cards, impromptu quizzes, and practise exams - had all paid off. She'd received O's across the board, and the fact was gratifying. Exceedingly so.
"How did you go?" Hermione Granger asked.
"Spectacularly," Ariana replied, palmed her new badge - Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, this time - and rifled through the contents of her Hogwarts letter. She found what she was looking for - the NEWT level subject selection page - and scrutinised the available options. Hogwarts offered a series of introductory courses in sixth and seventh year, most of which had pre-requisites among the various OWL classes available. Such NEWT courses included, among others, Alchemy, Enchanting, Healing and Wandless Magic, and Ariana had looked forward to the opportunity to attend them for years.
"Do you care to elaborate?" Hermione persisted.
In truth, Ariana really didn't. She and Hermione had spent the last five years battling for 1st place on their class rankings, and although Hermione was her friend and it was all in the pursuit of being the best students they could be, the gig had grown old sometime in third year. It had stopped being something to laugh about, too,when Ariana had been appointed Gryffindor Prefect over Hermione.
Although uncertain if it was irrational to do so, Ariana was afraid their rivalry would one day impact their friendship, and not for the better. Maybe it already had.
Hermione had always acted under the assumption she had something to prove, if not to the pure-blood elitists rampant in wizarding society, then simply to herself. It was entirely possible their academic rivalry, such as it was, had only exacerbated that drive, but Ariana tried not to over-analyse it.
She also had no desire to make a scene in the Burrow's kitchen, so she handed over her results, accepted Hermione's in turn, and skimmed them briefly.
"Your results are great, Hermione."
"Yours are better, though," Hermione replied, "I didn't even know we could take OWL's for subjects we weren't enrolled in."
"Penny Clearwater told me in third year," Ariana shrugged, "It just stuck, I suppose. I thought you knew."
Rather than pursue the conversation further, Ariana instead occupied herself with her NEWT level subject selections. Around her, Mrs Weasley - or Molly, rather - cleared away the used pots and pans, Mr Weasley, Bill, and Fleur each prepared for work, and Ron mindlessly demolished his bacon, eggs, and fried potato.
"What subjects are you choosing?" Ron queried, wiped his hands on a serviette, and chugged down his orange juice.
They discussed it for a while, and Ariana was relieved to discover she and Hermione would only share four NEWT subjects. It would probably serve them both well, the difference in electives, and Ariana was hopeful that it would take off some of the pressure to best each other in everything.
Ron, in contrast, didn't intend to take many subjects at all, satisfied instead with Hogwarts' core classes of Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration. If professional quidditch wasn't an option, he wanted to be an Auror, and those NEWT level subjects were the only prerequisites required to be accepted into the British Isles' Auror Academy.
As he'd said himself once, he wasn't much for academia, so the less he had to do, the better. In saying that, Ron was by no means an idiot, but school wasn't necessarily for everyone. Ariana knew this, Hermione had begrudgingly come to accept it, and there were far more important things to worry about then how many NEWT's Ron intended to take.
Specifically, Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the Ministry of Magic that was entirely unprepared to deal with either. In May, Voldemort's titanic clash with Dumbledore had forced he and his forces into the public's eye, and the Ministry of Magic was presently floundering to catch up after Cornelius Fudge, the previous Minister of Magic, had spent the last 12 months in ridiculous, stubborn state of denial.
He'd since been ousted out of office, fortunately, and Madam Amelia Bones had, thus far, made a decent job of picking up Fudge's slack in the interim. She was the former head of the DMLE, consummately professional and a former auror besides, and also extraordinarily brave in the face of Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and the threat they posed to her - and the general public's - wellbeing.
Things weren't perfect, naturally. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were still on the warpath, with dozens of casualties reported every day. They weren't all witches and wizards, the attacks indiscriminate regardless of race - non-magical people, witches and wizards, goblins, werewolves, and then some - and Ariana had grown to dread the arrival of the 'Daily Prophet' every morning.
She wasn't the only one. Mrs Weasley persisted on reading it to ensure the continued survival of her loved ones, but if not for that, Ariana was fairly convinced the older woman would have boycotted the paper weeks ago.
"All right, we're off," Bill announced, and amidst a chorus of farewells from everyone else, he and Fleur stepped out of the house and apparated away. Mr Weasley - Arthur - took off too, and the hug he and his wife shared before they parted was sweet.
Ariana turned to her two friends and queried, "Have you both filled in your subject selection forms?"
Both nodded their confirmation, handed them over, and Ariana deposited them into an envelope with her own. It was addressed to their Head of House, sealed with wax, and tied to one of Hedwig's talons with a piece of twine.
"To Professor McGonagall, girl," Ariana instructed, "Take your time though. They don't have to reach her until the 31st."
Hedwig happily accepted a few owl treats, allowed Ariana to launch her out of the kitchen window, and took off northward, to Scotland.
"Well, since that's out of the way, what are we doing today?" Ron asked.
"We're going to go buy everyone's school supplies."
"It isn't even August!" Ron protested.
As he and Mrs Weasley began to argue about it, Ariana glanced at Hermione. "Who's turn is it to wake Ginny?"
Hermione grimaced, chagrined. "It's mine."
Ginny was rather beastly if she had to be awake before 10 o'clock, and most girls in Gryffindor had grown to dread and resent the task of waking her. Not even the benefit of magic made it better, because it was counteracted by the fact that Ginny had access to magic, too.
She was particularly fond of her bat bogey hex.
"Ariana herself found it rather irritating that they had to go through the effort at all, more so because she didn't particularly appreciate the unwarranted verbal abuse, the occasional bruise, and at Hogwarts, the frequent hexes. The worst thing about it, however, was the fact Ginny was never apologetic about her treatment towards the rest of the Gryffindor girls, and that fact, combined with the issue itself, hadn't endeared her to anyone.
Ariana would probably have to do something about it, since it wasn't doing anyone any favours, least of all Ginny. Moreover, if she didn't, the Gryffindor seeker was fairly certain the other girls in her house would riot.
The issue was Ginny had no respect for authority, made resentful by the fact no one had noticed her decline in the 1992-93 school year. The entire mess had taught Ariana herself to be more aware of her peers, regardless of age, but that still didn't change the youngest Weasley's bitterness towards anyone in charge.
That, unfortunately, included prefects. It was irrational, to some degree, and Ariana was cognisant of the fact Ginny herself was partially at fault for her disastrous 1st year, but at the same time, Ariana could also see where her friend was coming from.
It didn't make things easier, of course, and she would have to think of a solution, but in the meantime…
"Have fun with that, Hermione," she grimaced her sympathy, stacked the dirty dishes, and approached the kitchen sink. "You can shower first. Provided Ginny doesn't accidentally kill you, of course."
"Thanks," Hermione glibly replied. "Just for that, I'll make sure to use all the hot water."
"You're a cruel mistress, Hermione Jean."
"I do try."
They both grinned, but then Hermione took off upstairs, and Ariana occupied herself with her morning chores. She'd lived with Mr and Mrs Weasley since the end of her fourth year, had been absorbed into the Burrow's daily grind without complaint, and it worked out well. Ginny had a girl to talk to, Mrs Weasley had another set of helping hands, and Ariana would never have to see her relatives again.
Everyone was a winner, essentially.
Behind her, Mrs Weasley and Ron's argument culminated in her foster brother's angry retreat from the room, and Molly sighed, long-suffering. Ron would have to de-gnome the garden later, but as Ginny loudly protested her wake-up call, and as Ariana took in Mrs Weasley's tired expression, he probably deserved it.
She offered her guardian a sympathetic smile, and resorted to the woman in question's age-old standby. According to the Weasley matriarch, it never failed. "Would you like some tea?"
The woman in question huffed a tired laugh, rubbed at weary eyes, and declined. "No, thank you, darling. I think I've had enough caffeine today."
"I didn't think I would ever hear you turn down a cup of tea."
"I suppose there's a time for everything, Annie."
Ariana nodded her acknowledgement and conceded, "I guess there is."
-!- -#-
In Diagon Alley, there was significantly less foot traffic than Ariana had grown to expect from the largest wizarding centre in London. With the return of Voldemort, witches and wizards were scared, and it was apparent commerce had taken a backseat to self-preservation. It was no wonder, really, but there was something disheartening about the sight of Diagon Alley, once a thriving, bustling trade centre, absent of the unadulterated magic that had almost defined it.
"It looks like a ghost town," Hermione observed, dejected.
"Quite," Mrs Weasley agreed. "I want us in and out of here as quickly as possible. It's not safe, and we shouldn't waste any more of Kingsley and Tonks' time than necessary."
Ariana wasn't particularly certain whether or not Kingsley and Tonks had been appointed by the DMLE or by the Order of the Phoenix, and neither was she inclined to ask. Instead, she peppered them both with questions about Combat Magic, among other things, and it wasn't until they'd reached Fred and George's new shop, 'Weasley's WIzarding Wheezes', that she granted the two aurors a reprieve.
The shop itself was an eyesore of psychedelic proportions, and inside, it was packed to the brim with merchandise and customers. The others - Ron, Ginny, and Hermione - dispersed to explore, and Ariana turned to Molly.
"Would you mind if I ducked off to Gringott's for a little bit?"
"I don't know, darling, it's not safe," she fretted.
"I'll go with her," Kingsley offered, "We should be fine. It's not far from here."
"Please?" Ariana pressed. "It's important."
Mrs Weasley relented with a sigh. "Be back in an hour, do you understand?"
"Of course," Ariana acquiesced, briefly hugged the woman, and then walked with Kingsley out of the shop. "Thanks for this, Shack. I appreciate it."."
"Not a problem, Ariana."
Kingsley was in his early 30's, a former Slytherin and about as handsome as he was adept with Combat Magic. His specialty was spell deflection, wherein a combatant used their wand to deflect spells in lieu of a magical shield or dodging, and Ariana would freely admit to her infatuation with the older man.
There was something extremely attractive about his competence with Combat Magic, and Ariana tried not to think too much about why she was suddenly drawn to men who possessed the capacity to be extraordinarily dangerous.
Blessedly, they reached Gringott's before she could be further absorbed by her thoughts, and it wasn't long before they were in one of the mine carts, hurdling deep into the mines below.
"Vault 13," the goblin guide dully intoned.
"Thanks," Ariana acknowledged, passed through the vault's blood-based defences, and ignored the stacks upon stacks of galleons, sickles, and knuts gathered therein. She instead approached the two trunks she'd come for, packed on a previous visit, and dragged them out, one by one.
"Was that everything you wanted?" Kingsley asked. He'd shrunken the trunks down, and they were deposited in one of her pockets.
"Yes," she confirmed.
Their goblin guide sealed the vault, herded them into the mine cart once more, and then sent the cart rocketing back to the surface of the bank. He was tipped for his service, the pair were undisturbed as they left, and they returned to the twins' shop without incident.
Mrs Weasley breathed a sigh of relief upon sight of them both. "Did you get what you wanted?"
"I did," she confirmed, offered her foster mother an assuring smile, and then disappeared into the depths of the shop. Behind her, Kingsley would reiterate that their brief errand was uneventful, they would theorise about what she'd retrieved, and neither would ever ask.
Ironically, it wasn't anything particularly glamorous - books, mostly, with the occasional scroll and a single, shrunken portrait - but the knowledge therein was invaluable to Ariana, who was unwilling to explain why. It was nobody's business but her own, in any case, and it was apparently the height of rudeness to enquire about the content's of one's family vault.
As it was understood, old houses had old secrets.
Upon learning why it was particularly offensive, Ariana hadn't questioned it further. After all, the Ancient and Noble House of Potter had secrets, too.