Harriet's dreams during the wee hours of Monday were strange and disconcerting. In one, a (more or less) fully-human Tommie Riddle approached with open arms, wand twirling between her slender fingers, a wild glint in her obsidian eyes—whose pupils remained slits. In another, Harriet stood outside the door of the apartment she and Hermione were about to move into, her hands empty of both key and wand. When she knocked, Hermione shouted at her to go away and never return.
"Potter!" Riddle's rich contralto broke into her nightmares, her eyes flying open to find Riddle's face mere inches from her own.
"Wha—!" Harriet jumped back in surprise, hands coming up defensively. Startled by her reaction, Riddle fled back to her spot in the middle of the carpet (off-white shag that hadn't been replaced since the '70s), her tail flicking.
"Apologies," Riddle replied peevishly. "Your alarm went off ten minutes ago, and I'd hate for you to be late to sign for that apartment."
Harriet took several gasping breaths. "Thank you," she croaked. Riddle shifted uncomfortably. Why? They'd exchanged thanks before... Whatever.
"All right then," Riddle said awkwardly, crouching tensely, eyes hard. Harriet hurriedly dressed and left the room to make breakfast for them both. When she returned, requisite dishes in hand, Riddle had not moved.
"Is something the matter?" Harriet asked.
"Potter," Riddle began hesitantly. "Potter, you shouted my name in your sleep."
"I did?"
"And you absolutely wreaked of fear," Riddle added. "I am aware that I have done my best to intimidate you within the last few days, but even I recognize that such a fraught dynamic between us may not lead to the breaking of my curse."
"I'm sure it was just general anxiety," Harriet deflected. "I mean, you were only in one dream. Hermione was in the other, and she turned me away..." Harriet trailed off uncertainly.
"You did not shout about this... Hermione, however." Riddle actually sounded concerned. Harriet wished she could believe her apparent sincerity.
"What did I call you?"
"Riddle, of course." Riddle seemed to relax somewhat at this question: She extended her forelegs and rested her chin on a paw, still holding Harriet's gaze. "We aren't on first name terms, even in your head."
"Do you want us to be?" Harriet queried, not knowing as she asked what her own answer was.
"The exchange of first names usually implies less distance between people than that of token acquaintances," Riddle supplied.
"And we've been sleeping in the same room for two nights, with many more to come," Harriet added.
"Quite." They watched each other, waiting to see who would make the next move.
"I'm Tommie, then. But you know that." Riddle's—Tommie's—eyes dropped to examine her paws.
"I'm Harriet, I guess." Harriet smiled tremulously. "Don't know if meeting you is an honor, but it's definitely... something."
"Good," Tommie hummed. "I couldn't ask for more." She rose and padded deliberately closer. "Now then, you seem far more relaxed. You should be fine."
Harriet sputtered. "Is that all this entire conversation was, a convoluted ploy to calm me down before my appointment?"
"Why not?" replied Tommie evasively. "It worked, didn't it? No, you don't need to answer that. I can tell."
"Because of the empathy thing," Harriet guessed. "I studied up on a bunch of magical creatures before the Maze. Wasn't sure what they'd throw at us." Yes, she'd known about the sphinxes' ability to sense the emotions of others, but the implications were only now occurring to her... Damn, damn—
"Breathe, P-Harriet," Tommie said gently. "I can only sense your emotions. I cannot directly manipulate them. You have nothing to fear."
Harriet snorted incredulously. "You were a Slytherin. Emotional manipulation is your watchword. But you're right. There's nothing I can do about that." Harriet cleared away the remnants of their meal and gave her hair one last combing-through (it didn't help much). "Well, I'm on my way to hell. Wish me luck."
"I don't believe in luck. There is nothing that can possibly go wrong. Don't dwell on improbable scenarios."
Strangely, Tommie sounded a bit like Hermione, though more biting in her encouragement. Harriet rather dreaded their first meeting—if they ever met, that is. She settled on a brief nod in acknowledgment.
"When you get back, I'd like to go out. To a park or something of the sort."
"All right," Harriet agreed. "We can do that."
Harriet left her aunt's apartment in marginally better spirits than she'd woken up in. Aunt Petunia halfheartedly said goodbye while gathered her supplies for her receptionist job at a law firm, her face pinched in distaste. Dudley hadn't yet gotten up; his shift at the old bowling alley down the street didn't start until the afternoon (lucky bastard).
Harriet didn't bother Apparating today. She hopped on a bus, took it all the way to the end, transferred, and rode the next bus about five more stops. In total, the trip took close to an hour. (Scratch good intentions and her fear of Splinching. She was Apparating back.) Hermione met her at the corner, looking far too cheerful. (And why shouldn't she? She'd slept in, probably, because Apparition didn't unsettle her.)
"All right, let's do this," she said brightly, taking Harriet's hand. Harriet followed her mutely.
Their landlady was a middle-aged woman named Heather Pierce, whose light brown hair lacked even the faintest streak of gray. Her eyes were sharp, mouth set severely. "Good morning, girls," she said, shaking their hands firmly. "Now, this shouldn't take long at all. Review this contract, sign these, and we'll be set."
The first thing Harriet noticed—that hadn't occurred to her before—was the stringent set of rules about owning pets, namely a 50-pound deposit and a rather cryptic "pets are welcome, within reason" at the very top of the contract. "Hermione," she whispered out of the side of her mouth, tapping the form in question. "What are you going to do?"
Hermione signed the form without batting an eye, Crookshanks already noted on the page. "I think of everything," she whispered back. Uncertain, Harriet did the same but added nothing. Hedwig wasn't really much of a pet and wouldn't spend much time indoors, and Tommie—for all anyone else knew—didn't exist.
Just like that, it was over. Heather ushered them out of the leasing office with a friendly wave and a plea to call her if they had any more questions. Both promised they would and went on their merry way.
"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Hermione asked as the two of them strolled along the sidewalk toward an ideal place to Disapparate—in this case, behind a Dumpster.
"No," Harriet allowed. "Um, I have an owl. What should I do?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it. Just make sure Hedwig goes hunting only at night. If Heather on anyone else sees her, we can Confund them."
Harriet grimaced. "I'd rather not have to. Confunding Muggles when it isn't absolutely necessary is still somehow technically illegal."
"Which is surprising, all things considered," Hermione agreed. "Fudge is such a pushover that anti-Muggle and anti-Muggle-born legislation gets signed off on like it's the 1920s all over again." They continued walking in silence for a moment. "Do you want to get lunch?" Hermione queried.
"Sure, I suppose." Harriet considered for a moment. "Yes, please. I want to ask you about something." Hermione might start to suspect about her sphinx problem, but she desperately needed theories about Riddle's curse.
"All right." Hermione grasped her arm. "Cheap fish and chips place isn't too far."
"But we're Apparating anyway," Harriet sighed.
"Indeed we are. If magic truly will make something easier, I'm taking advantage of it." Hermione turned on the spot, and the two of them entered the suffocating tube through spacetime. Apparition was the worst. Every. Fucking. Time.
The food was good, Harriet had to admit. She nibbled happily on a piece of fish, while Hermione sat across from her, eating with gusto, a book opened behind her plate. Smirking to herself, Harriet dropped a napkin over Hermione's page, causing her to raise her head and frown confusedly.
"Oh, sorry," she said, shame-faced, closing her book with a snap. "This is just really interesting stuff, you know?"
"What is it?"
"It's the definitive history of Muggle-born exclusion, written by a Muggle-born," Hermione said happily. "Only shop that sells it is that tiny bookshop on Knockturn Alley that everyone avoids. Anyway, this stuff is horrific, but fascinating. Did you know there were a bunch of voting rights demonstrations in the 1910s, coinciding with pro-women's suffrage demonstrations in Muggle society?"
Harriet nodded. "I did know that." She needed to know as much history as possible to establish the right context for what she was about to embark upon. And, well, Hermione wasn't the only patron of that bookshop. "But haven't you read that before?" Harriet was positive she'd seen this particular book lying around their dormitory within the past year.
"This is my third time," Hermione admitted. "I keep adding notes in the margins. There's just so much here to process."
"I'll bet." Harriet chewed contemplatively for a moment more. "Oh yeah. So, I was wondering if you knew anything about curses that require a particular sentiment to break. Sort of like, I don't know, Muggle fairy tales made real."
Hermione looked thoughtful. "I've read a bit. One kind depends upon the feeling of the one it's cast upon, while the other requires someone in addition to the target."
"How can you tell which is which?" Harriet asked quickly. "And don't they all require a third party to help break them?"
"I don't believe it's possible to distinguish them from the outside. That information resides with the caster and possibly with the target—if they were paying attention, that is. As for always requiring a third party, again, it probably depends." Hermione considered her. "Why do you want to know? Sentiment-based curses aren't on the NEWT. I'm not helping you cheat by telling you that."
"Idle curiosity," Harriet hedged.
"Hmm." Hermione bent down and removed a sheaf of parchment from her bag. "Here's the article Skeeter wrote up about the Third Task. Do you want to take a look? It seems good enough to me, but you should know what it says beforehand, probably."
Harriet took it. Hermione was right. It wasn't bad, though Skeeter managed to slip in several subtle but ultimately harmless digs at Hermione, "After exiting the maze, Potter was accosted violently by her close friend Hermione Granger" and "Is it possible that the worry expressed by Potter's associates could be construed as doubt in her many-times-demonstrated abilities?" most notable among them.
"Tell her to rephrase the 'accosted violently' bit," suggested Harriet. "It's rather obvious and unnecessary."
"Gladly," Hermione said, taking back the article and crossing out the offending phrase. "We'd best be going soon. I've got Ministry internship applications to start and you've got NEWTs to revise for."
Harriet nodded regretfully. "I like the atmosphere here. Laid back. Not even a bit demanding. Or... intentionally disturbing..." Time away from Riddle—Tommie, whatever—was a precious commodity, even if she was terribly interesting.
"What's been 'intentionally disturbing' recently?" Hermione asked in confusion.
"Oh, this and that," Harriet replied airily. "See you Wednesday, then."
"Yeah, see you," Hermione returned, and the two of them hurried outside to a lonely sheltered area near the Dumpster behind the restaurant—Apparition involved far too many Dumpsters, in Harriet's opinion—and Disapparated.
"I'm back," Harriet said unnecessarily, opening her bedroom door.
"Harriet," Tommie said ruefully. "Good. I'm ready to go out."
Harriet didn't need to be asked twice. "Okay, let's go."
"Just like that? No brief break after your ordeal?" Tommie seemed taken aback. "I thought I would need to wait at least an hour after you returned."
"A park is restful enough for me," Harriet said. "All I have to do is watch you run around. We both get fresh air..." Harriet suppressed a weary smile. "Besides, if we break this curse of yours, you'll never be able to repay me in kind. May as well milk this thing for all it's worth."
Tommie growled but looked distinctly impressed. "Surely there's something I can do for you in the meantime?"
"You can help me revise," Harriet decided, "but after the park. I don't want to ruin your run."
"How thoughtful." Tommie bared her teeth in a brief grimace. "And so we shall Apparate again."
Harriet sighed. "Unfortunately, the closest park isn't within walking distance."
"Of course." A Disillusionment Charm, walk to the front door and down the steps, arrangement of the Invisibility Cloak, and an uncomfortable embrace later, they Disapparated. For someone who purported to hate it so much, Harriet thought, she did it quite frequently.
The park itself wasn't all that impressive. The grass was scruffy and ill-kempt. The playground and swing set were old and falling apart, though the children frolicking about them didn't seem to mind. Harriet watched them for a moment with a fond smile. She'd been one of them, once, even if Dudley insisted on making her playtime miserable.
"This is far too small, Harriet," Tommie said at her shoulder. "I'm sure your Muggle-Repelling Charms will be more than adequate, but they won't make up for the... lack of space."
"Where should we go, then?" Harriet grumbled.
"Somewhere away from a city?" Tommie suggested.
Harriet sighed apologetically. "I don't know where to Apparate, in that case. Will this do in a pinch? I'll ask Hermione where she and her parents go on camping trips."
"Didn't you ever go with them?" Tommie asked in surprise.
"No. That would have tested Petunia's patience a bit much." Harriet considered for a moment. "She did let me spend time at Hermione's house, but it wasn't much."
"And yet you still had someone looking out for your interests," Tommie said flatly. "How unfortunate for you."
Anger rose in Harriet's chest. "She didn't give a damn about me. Do you want to run or to just piss me off?"
Tommie nodded eagerly. "I'm sorry for offending you."
"It's... it's okay." Harriet began to walk in a fairly wide circle, casting Notice-Me-Not, Silencing, Disillusionment, and Muggle-Repelling Charms around her, covering a wider area than the circle in which she walked. The magic flowed from her wand in comforting waves, as easy as breathing. The completed charms left a faintly visible haze in the air, though she suspected it was only visible from this side. Slightly winded, she removed the Disillusionment Charm from Tommie, who was inspecting Harriet's handiwork with a critical eye. She nodded, satisfied.
"You haven't disappointed me yet," she admitted grudgingly, and began to run. Her movements were fluid, hair flying out behind her, paws falling with deliberate grace. Harriet found it difficult to look away. This was the first time she'd really bothered to study Tommie in the sun. Her fur appeared brown indoors, but now faint gold flecks could be seen. Shaking her head, Harriet settled beneath a tree and pulled out flashcards of potion ingredients. Time to review the properties of wolfsbane and powdered unicorn horn and sopophorous beans and whatever else...
#
The wind in her fur felt exactly as she imagined. It was the only thing to claim that distinction, however.
Her eyes were inexorably drawn to where Harriet sat, her head buried in her notes. Even the brat's boredom was attractive.
Running as a whole felt different than it had before, as though something had been lost or gained between this moment and the last time...
No time for thinking. Run...
#
Studying in the park was a great idea, or so she'd assumed. That was why she currently doodled aimlessly on her notepad as she watched the sphinx's progress. Tommie was unadulteratedly wild now; there was nothing in her movements to suggest she had ever been anything but a sphinx. A bird flew a little too close, and she batted it out of the air with sheathed claws. She then proceeded to gut it in a mess of blood and feathers. Harriet wished she could turn away from the gruesome spectacle but didn't out of morbid fascination.
Sensing her stare, Tommie raised her head from her prey and smiled, lips pulling back over her sharp teeth. Harriet blushed, and buried her head in her notes once more. God, the next two days were going to be interminable.
"Am I distracting you?" Tommie asked, flopping into the grass beside her.
"I'm allowing myself to be distracted," Harriet snapped.
"We can't have that. I don't want you to do badly on my account." Tommie rose. "Maybe you should try running for a bit. It does wonders for the mind."
"Why not?" It really wasn't a bad suggestion. It's just that she would much prefer to fly, which she certainly couldn't do here; she hadn't thought to bring her broom along.
"I'm in need of a new activity, anyway. Why don't you race me?" Tommie looked frighteningly excited at this prospect.
Harriet pushed her notes into a haphazard pile and stood up, stretching. "Yeah. Sure, I guess."
They marked the starting point with a decorative boulder and the finish line—just behind the starting point—with a fallen branch. ("Those might move around if one of us kicks them," Tommie cautioned. Harriet obligingly placed Sticking Charms on both.)
When Tommie said, "go" without much inflection, they both hared around the circle outlined by Harriet's charms, neither all that interested in losing. Harriet couldn't much compete with Tommie's speed, and so conjured a flock of canaries to distract her. Tommie, ignoring the canaries, cut across the center of the circle, clawed her way partway up Harriet's studying tree, and jumped. "You dirty cheater!" Harriet protested, her words coming in explosive pants.
"Those canaries weren't cheating?" Tommie growled back, stopping behind the tree branch with a satisfied smirk.
Harriet ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. "Yes, but there was no way in hell I had a chance." Honestly, she hadn't conjured the canaries just to cheat. She'd also wanted to see Tommie pounce again. ... Fucking hell, what was wrong with her?
"How about a different game?" Tommie suggested. "You run the circle, and I'll watch. Seems only fair after the way you were ogling me."
"Maybe tomorrow," Harriet replied, annoyed—whether at herself or at Tommie, she couldn't tell. "I'm ready to go. I'm not getting much of anything done here."
"You've done plenty today," Tommie murmured. "Don't stress so much." Harriet couldn't tell if she was being mocked or encouraged.
"What's your suggestion, then?" she asked.
"Tell me about the Malfoys and then have some genuine fun on your own."
"And leave you here?"
"No, no," Tommie snorted. "I rather enjoy the opportunities your bedroom presents."
Harriet blinked. What?
Tommie looked confused (and a bit embarrassed), too. "That sounded rather suggestive, didn't it? It was unintended, I promise you. Forgive me."
"Okay." If she wasn't mistaken, a sphinx was flirting with her without realizing what she was doing. What had her life come to? "Let me get this straight. You want me to tell you about the Malfoys, so you can keep plotting while I unwind."
"Precisely."
"Sounds good to me," Harriet said. "Let's go." Once again, they did the embrace thing. In comparison to that, the Apparition itself was bearable.
As soon as they arrived back in Harriet's room, Tommie said, "talk, and tell me everything you can."
"Don't know how much good knowing anything about the Malfoys will do you," Harriet protested. "I mean, what do you have that would interest them? Maybe you're a genius or whatever, but they've likely never heard of you and have everything they could possibly want already."
"That doesn't matter," Tommie hissed. "I still need to know what I'm up against, once my curse is gone."
"Fine." Harriet was pretty certain that that date was a very long time in the future, considering how little they had to go off of. "Abraxas's son is named Lucius. He's got his fingers in a lot of pies and definitely has the current Minister's ear... and possibly other things as well. Anyway, most of the laws that pass in the Wizengamot go through him, so I expect you would like what's happening now very much indeed."
"Mudbloods'''?" Tommie asked, head tilting inquisitively.
"Are still second-class citizens. Half-breeds like werewolves and such are even worse off." Harriet couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.
To her surprise, Tommie looked contemplative rather than pleased. "And where is the popular sentiment?" she queried. "With these developments or against them?"
"You asked about the Malfoys specifically," Harriet reminded her. "And I can tell you that the majority hates wealthy Pureblood elites like them but can't—and won't—do anything about it. Dumbledore is supposedly the hero of Muggle-borns and creatures, yet he does nothing."
"Interesting." Tommie went over to her stack of parchment and the Dicta-Quill. "Things have certainly changed more than I expected. The power resides with the Purebloods now, but it won't last when the rest decide to push back."
"It would take someone with a lot of public acclaim speaking up for any meaningful change to happen." Harriet wanted to laugh outright. Hell, talking out her plans like this was fun.
"No doubt," Tommie mused. "I still intend to write to this... Lucius Malfoy."
"Fine," Harriet replied carelessly. "I'm going flying... invisibly, of course."
Tommie nodded disinterestedly, and Harriet left with a new spring in her step.
Tuesday passed much the same as Monday (minus anxiety-inducing activities but still with trippy dreams), culminating in another extended visit to the park
and more half-assed studying.
"Watching you attempt to focus is painful for me," Tommie quipped as they returned from the park and Harriet began packing for the next day, out of frustration as much as necessity. "For both our sakes, don't spend so much time on things you definitely know."
"But it's theory," Harriet protested. "I've always had problems with theory."
"You have, what, three weeks?"
"Yes," Harriet replied hesitantly.
"So come back to that in a while and tell me more of what I want to know."
"Like what?" Harriet asked dubiously.
"Does Lucius Malfoy have any children? An heir, perhaps, more open-minded than he?"
Harriet grimaced. "Yeah, he's got a kid all right. Draco. He was in my year and is a complete bastard."
"Malfoys usually are," Tommie agreed. "Abraxas may have been an exception, but even he had his moments."
"Was he a friend of yours?" Harriet wondered.
"Perhaps," Tommie murmured. "I've never been much in the business of friends. I would rather have people follow me out of respect for my abilities than because of misplaced sentiment."
"That's not sustainable," Harriet said, feeling a sudden pity for this strange woman. "Friends stick with you, even when you screw up or humiliate yourself."
Tommie shook her head. "Even if I'd had 'friends,' fifty years have passed. I'm quite alone—without any sort of organization..."
Harriet gave her first genuine smile during their acquaintance. "Then change your policy and truly start over. What have you got to lose?"
"What have I got to lose?" Tommie echoed. "What, indeed."
Silence fell between them as Harriet finished her packing. "I can't wait for tomorrow," Harriet finally muttered, pushing down the overarching feeling of dread that came over her when she thought about Tommie too long.
"Neither can I," Tommie agreed. "Neither can I." Her smile was jagged as shattered glass.
#
Hermione brimmed with excitement. Skeeter's final edit was exactly what she asked (it was the front page of yesterday's Daily Prophet) and today was the day she and Harriet would move into their lovely apartment. She'd packed all her books in a bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm—one could hardly tell she had so many, then received two beautiful new hardcovers from her parents as going-away presents.
"Got this one on a whim," her mum said, resting her hand on a volume of cynically annotated fairy tales, complete with index. "Academic, yet fun. You know? Everyone needs fun in their lives."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically and hugged her tightly. "Thanks," she said.
"Don't mention it, sweetheart," her mum replied, patting her on the back. "Now, are you ready to go? Want me to come with you?"
"I'm ready. Moving's a breeze with magic, so you don't have to..."
Her mum laughed. "We'll drop by later, to see how you're settling in."
Moments later, standing outside the open door with the key replaced in her pocket, Hermione wished briefly that her mum had come with her to make the apartment a bit less lonely until Harriet arrived. But, well, she was here now, so... in she went, closing the door quietly behind her. Crookshanks made an angry chirping sound from within his carrier. "Hold on, babe," she said reassuringly. "I'll let you out in a few minutes." He meowed again, unconvinced.
The rooms were clean and empty, except for a couple furniture boxes haphazardly spread throughout the front room. Hermione smiled in relief. They'd been delivered this morning without any difficulty. With a flick of her wand, she unpacked the table and chairs, as well as an old sofa. Crookshanks sniffed about suspiciously when she opened his carrier, his ears back and ginger fur bristling. "You're ridiculous," she told him. He glared and continued his exploration.
A series of firm knocks sounded at the door. Hermione eagerly abandoned her inspection to answer it. Harriet stood outside, face screwed up in annoyance, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "What's got your pants in a twist?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing," Harriet said. "It's been a long morning." She glowered over her shoulder.
"Any grand farewell gestures from your aunt and cousin?"
Harriet merely snorted in response.
"Well, come inside," Hermione urged. "I got a book of fairy tales from my mum that you might find interesting."
"This ain't no fairy tale," Harriet said darkly, striding purposefully across the threshold and dragging her trunk with magic-aided ease. She waited an extra second before closing the door behind her, which Hermione found slightly odd.
Crookshanks came running across the room as Harriet entered, his tail fluffed to twice its size, hissing louder than Hermione had ever heard. "What on earth?" she cried.
Harriet, meanwhile, was trying—and failing—to appear surprised. As Crookshanks shifted from hissing to growling, her expression settled into obvious anxiety. "I'll just put this stuff in my room, shall I?" she said shakily. As she disappeared down the hall, Crookshanks slunk beneath the sofa, his yellow eyes gleaming from the shadows.
"What is it?" Hermione asked gently, kneeling beside the sofa and sticking a hand underneath toward the crouching cat. He nuzzled her fingers before heading deeper into his hiding place.
Deciding to let Crookshanks have time to himself, she followed Harriet's trajectory to the second of the two bedrooms, which was shut and locked. "Harriet!" she called. "Is everything all right in there? Crookshanks is probably just nervous about the new place. I'm sure it's nothing personal."
"Everything's fine," came the muffled reply. "I'll be out in a moment."
"Okay. Take your time." Hermione went into her own room. Arranging it took hardly any time at all. Magic was great, really.