Harriet Potter Year 1: Life, Death, and Rebirth
"Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are".
~Bertolt Brecht
Harriet Potter, Potter Manor- July 25, 1991
Harriet woke up to the warmth of the sun shining on her face. Blearily opening her eyes, she realized that, in her exhaustion from the previous night, she had forgotten to close the curtains in her room. She didn't get up at first, as the light streaming in from the window showed it to be relatively early, deciding instead to mull over the events of the previous night.
Uncle Severus (as she had christened him) had finally joined them for dinner. Harriet's mother had prepared some of the most delicious corned-beef Harriet had ever eaten, apparently from an old family recipe. Harriet had offered to help, but her mother had politely declined, instead sending her off to set the table, a task she had completed in a few minutes. She had spent the rest of the evening passing the time until his arrival with Sirius and her father teaching her how to play gobstones.
Harriet hadn't been sure of how the dinner was going to go, but even her most wild predictions could have guessed how it turned out. Her father and Sirius spent half the night glaring at Snape, who did his best to glare back. They tossed around insults so casually that Harriet lost count of the number of times Lily kicked Severus under the table. She didn't even want to think about how black and blue her father's and Sirius's shins had to be (courtesy, instead, of Remus).
Finally, after the last course had been served, Harriet's mother decided to take action. Giving Remus a pointed look, she had gotten up from the table and held her hand out to her slightly confused daughter.
"Come with me to the kitchen, Harriet," she had said, "I need some help with the dessert." Harriet, realizing that her mother had more in mind than just frosting the cake, dutifully followed her into the kitchen. As the mother-daughter duo placed the finishing touches on the vanilla-strawberry chocolate cake, Harriet heard, coming from the dining room, yelling. Obviously unsettled, her mother had told her not to worry about it. There were a few crashes, then silence.
When Harriet and her mother had entered the dining room again, Snape, Sirius, and her father were all sitting at their original locations at the table, although their hair looked slightly messy (well, her father's looked as it normally did) and the collar of Sirius's shirt was upturned. Remus was as calm as ever, cheerfully complimenting both Harriet and her mother on the delicious looking cake.
She never did learn what had been said between the group that night, but, although the tension was still thick in the air, Sirius, her father, and Uncle Severus were all on their best behavior, not one more insult leaving their lips.
"Harriet?" A quiet voice in broke into her thoughts, and Harriet looked towards her door to see her father waiting outside the door, hair still damp from his shower. When he saw that she was awake, he walked into the room and she scooted over to make room for him.
"What are you doing up so early, Prongslette?" he asked her, sitting gently on the edge of the bed.
"Forgot to close the blinds," she mumbled, still a bit drowsy. Her father nodded, obviously pleased. Harriet assumed it was because she had not been attempting to get up early before her parents to try and make breakfast, a habit she had acquired at the Dursley's and was still having trouble breaking.
"Well," he said, stroking her hair, definitely not helping her get out of bed, "your mother and I were talking and we were wondering if you wanted to go to Diagon Alley today."
That definitely woke Harriet up. Her parents had told her about Diagon Alley, and it would be a lie for her to say that she wasn't eager to see it in person. Her father, seeing her excitement, laughed.
"Really?" she moved to sit up more fully in bed.
"Yes," her father chuckled. "Its time for us to go get your Hogwarts things. You'll be going in a little over a month." His smile grew a bit sad here. "You need to get robes, books, supplies, a wand..." he trailed off, making a mental list. Harriet, however, focused on that last item.
A wand.
The one thing she had been looking more forward to than anything else since she had learned she was a witch. She hadn't really known how she was going to get a wand, but her mother had explained that the wand was purchased by the witch or wizard from a wandmaker, in her case, Ollivander, and that each wand was unique to the person.
Harriet couldn't wait.
Her father left her room to allow her to get ready, which she did in a hurry. She descended the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over the last step, and skidded into the kitchen. Regaining her balance, she walked happily over to the kitchen table, where her mother had placed a huge breakfast, pointedly ignoring her father's sniggers.
"When are we leaving?" she asked, almost as soon as she sat down. Her mother tried to force back a smile.
"As soon as you finish breakfast," her mum said firmly. Harriet took a huge bite of toast and swallowed, followed by a large gulp of orange juice.
"Done!" she announced, jumping up from her seat. Her father wrapped his arms firmly around her, though, and pulled her back onto the chair before she could get far.
"Not so fast," he laughed, "I think your mother meant a real breakfast." He shoved the still full plate at her. "Eat!"
She gave him a sour look, making him laugh once again because it held no real malice, before settling down and properly eating her breakfast, which was delicious, as always.
"Are Moony and Padfoot coming?" inquired Harriet, as she worked her way through a large stack of blueberry pancakes.
"No, Prongslette," said her father. Harriet's face fell. "They're really sorry, but Sirius really needed to clean out his house and Remus offered to help him. They know you will have a fantastic time, though!"
"Sirius has a house?" Harriet stopped cutting up her pancake, looking at her father expectantly.
"In London," he informed her. "It was left to him by default, since he was the last remaining member of his family. He hasn't been there in ages, though, so he wanted to go see if it was still inhabitable."
Harriet nodded, accepting the explanation, and finally managed to finish off the last of her pancakes. She let out a satisfied sigh and sat back in her chair.
"Honestly," laughed her mother, "how you manage to eat as much as your father at your size, I'll never know!"
"Its your fault," retorted Harriet, blushing. "Your food is too good!" Her mother laughed, removing both of their plates from the table with a flick of her wand, and her father ruffled her hair.
"Give us a few minutes," her mother instructed, "and go put on your shoes. Then we can get going."
Harriet raced off to do as they instructed, finally meeting her parents at fireplace. They were going to travel by Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, a famous inn and pub on Charring Cross Road in London, and from there, they would go to Diagon Alley. Neither one of Harriet's would tell her how they would get to Diagon Alley from there, but both got very sly smiles on their faces whenever Harriet brought it up.
Her mother and father walked downstairs. The few minutes had felt like a lifetime to Harriet, who was unbelievably excited, especially after all of the stories she had heard about Diagon Alley.
"Alright, Harriet," Lily began, "do you have your Hogwarts list?"
Harriet showed the piece of parchment to her mother, before taking it back and scanning over the list of ingredients for the umpteenth time that morning.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope set
1 brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
"Are you sure we can find all this?" Harriet asked uncertainly. It seemed pretty unlikely that Wizards would be able to hide an entire shopping district from Muggles, even in a place as large and busy as London.
"If you know where to look," promised her father. "Now, Prongslette, your mother and I were thinking that, if you're up to it, you could Floo on your own this time."
"By myself?" Harriet gulped, looking at the fireplace, which was suddenly looking much more ominous to her than it had a few seconds ago.
"Only if you're ready, love," her mother assured her. Harriet bit her lip. "I'll be waiting on the other side for you to come through, if that makes you feel any better," offered her mother. Harriet cast the fireplace one more anxious look, before setting her jaw and nodding determinedly.
"Alright, then," smiled her father. Her mother took some of the Floo powder and was off with a shout of "Diagon Alley!" Harriet shifted and her father, noticing, gave her a careful look.
"Its alright if you don't want to do this, Prongslette," he promised, glasses shining in the remaining light of the fireplace. "Nobody would blame you. You've only known about the wizarding world for a few months."
Harriet shook her head. She was now determined to do this. It was only the Floo, after all. She had seen it done enough times to know that it was hardly rocket science. Her father gave her one more searching glance, then offered her the small bowl of Floo powder. Gently, she took a handful of it and threw it into the fireplace. The light blazed bright green.
"Make sure to say the name clearly and loudly," her father reminded her. "Keep your elbows tucked in. You'll be fine."
Harriet stepped into the fire and felt the familiar tickling sensation. She took a deep breathe and began to speak.
"Diago-" There was too much soot in the fireplace; Harriet immediately swallowed ash upon entering the warm fireplace. Hard as she tried, she couldn't stop the cough that tore through her throat.
James watched horrified as his daughter vanished to an unknown location. He hastily grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. The dead terror formed a tight ball in his stomach and, as entered the Floo, he prayed to God that he would find both his wife and his daughter safe and sound on the other side.
Harriet Potter, Knockturn Alley- July 25, 1991
Once again, it felt as though she was being sucked down a giant drain. She seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in her ears was deafening — she tried to keep her eyes open but the whirl of green flames made her feel sick —and this time she didn't even have her parents to hold onto. Something hard knocked her elbow and she tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning — now it felt as though cold hands were slapping her face — squinting through her glasses she saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond — her breakfast was churning inside her — she closed her eyes again wishing it would stop, and then…
She fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of her glasses snap.
Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, she got gingerly to her feet, holding his broken glasses up to her eyes. She was quite alone, but where she was, she had no idea. All she could tell was that she was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.
A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the street that Harriet could see through the dusty window was dark and narrow-nothing at all like her parents' descriptions of Diagon Alley.
Every instinct in Harriet screamed at her that the sooner she got out of here the better. She doubted that the store owner would be very understanding of her predicament-that is, if he was even willing to listen to her explain that she had gotten lost on her first time using the Floo Network.
She made her way swiftly and silently to the door, but was forced to quickly duck behind a shelf when the little bell above the door rang, signaling that a customer had entered the store. Looking around quickly, she saw a large, black, cabinet to her left. She darted inside it, not wanting whoever had just entered to see her covered in soot with broken glasses in the dark and gloomy store, her apprehension of which was growing more and more by the minute.
Peeking through the crack in the cabinet door, she saw a pale man and an even paler boy enter the shop. His hair, so blonde that it was almost white, hung almost to his shoulders, framing his pointy face. He was immaculately dressed, something Harriet thought odd considering the location, and he held himself with his nose turned up, as if he had smelt something fowl in the air (Harriet couldn't help but agree with him there). Harriet had a feeling that this man was not somebody to be trifled with.
The boy looked remarkably similar, with his pale hair cut much shorter and his face just as pointy.
Father and son, Harriet decided.
The man walked purposefully to the front of the store and sharply pressed the bell on the counter. He glanced over his shoulder out the window warily, as if at any moment expecting police to come barging into the room to arrest him.
Well, Harriet mentally corrected herself, just as a stoop-shouldered greasy haired man walked up from behind the counter, I suppose it would be a team of Aurors, not the police, who would arrest him.
"Mr. Malfoy," purred the greasy haired man in a voice as oily as his hair, "a pleasure to see you again! And little Master Draco! What a pleasure, having you both in my shop."
"Draco is currently buying the things he needs for Hogwarts," drawled Mr. Malfoy, very obvious that he wished to be done with the pleasantries and get on with his business. The oily-haired man didn't seem to notice.
"Oh," he said, "that is right! You would be about eleven now, wouldn't you, Master Draco?"
"Yes," snarled Mr. Malfoy, not giving his son a chance to answer, "as I said, he is starting Hogwarts this year, Mr. Borgin"
"Well," offered Mr. Borgin, "we have several things here that might interest you, if you plan on getting him a congratulatory gift! We have for instance, the Hand of Glory, best friend to thieves and plunderers! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder-"
"I do hope," interrupted Mr. Malfoy in a tone dangerous enough to make Mr. Borgin's sly smile falter, "that my son amounts to more than just a thieve or plunderer."
"Of course," Mr. Borgin said, finally realizing his mistake, "I never meant no disrespect!" He apologized anxiously, tripping over his words. Mr. Malfoy's lip curled into an incredibly annoyed sneer, as did his son's.
"Enough," he barked. Mr. Borgin stopped and Mr. Malfoy took a calming breath, before pasting a patronizing smile onto his face. "Anyways, I am not here to buy. I am here to sell."
"Sell?" repeated Mr. Borgin, obviously disappointed.
"Yes," sneered Mr. Malfoy. "With the return of the Potters and the release of Black from Azkaban Prison, the Ministry has been conducting more raids, lately. As it happens, I have some items with me that would be incredibly...incriminating, if they were to be found in my possession."
Harriet frowned. Several days after having been taken from the Dursleys' home, her parents had sat her down and explained, more fully, what had happened the night Voldemort had come to their house. Specifically, Sirius's role in it, and how he had been framed for betraying them to Voldemort, thus spending nine years in prison for a murder he did not commit.
"I heard about those," nodded Mr. Borgin. "The Ministry needs to stop sticking their nose where it doesn't belong," Mr. Borgin commented, obviously trying to get on the Malfoys' good sides. Draco snorted and, getting bored with the proceedings, began to look around the shop. "Pure wizard blood is counting less and less, these days."
"Not with me," said Malfoy cooly.
"Nor me," agreed Mr. Borgin.
"If we could get onto business," began Mr. Malfoy, placing his box on the counter. Whatever was inside, Harriet never got to see. She suddenly found her view obstructed by Malfoy's son, who, in his exploration of the shop, found himself far to close to the cupboard for Harriet to be comfortable. Holding her breath, she backed as far as she could into her hiding place, hoping with everything she had that he would not find the cupboard very interesting.
Drat, she thought, as he caught sight of it. Luck was not with her that day, she decided, as Draco slowly got closer and closer. He reached out and grabbed the handle of the cupboard-she was done for, he was going to find her- he twisted the door handle-Oh god-
WHAM!
Mr. Malfoy's cane came down hard on the side of the cupboard, near the handle, forcing Draco to jump backwards. Harriet's eyes watered up from the loud noise that was now ringing in her ears.
"What did I say before we got here, Draco?" Mr. Malfoy asked smoothly. "Touch nothing."
"Sorry, father," said Draco in a voice that was clearly not apologetic, reminding Harriet strongly of Dudley. He gave the cupboard a final look, at which Harriet flinched as though he could see her, then both he and his father disappeared from sight. A few seconds later, Harriet heard the small bell ring, signifying that they had left the shop.
Harriet let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding. She heard Mr. Borgin mumbling to himself.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he complained, "Whatever you'd like Mr. Malfoy. Git. Honestly, what I should have said to him-"
Harriet never did hear what Mr. Borgin should have said, because he moved to the back room of the shop, giving Harriet her chance to escape. Harriet waited for a minute in case Mr. Borgin came back, then, quietly as she could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.
Clutching her broken glasses to her face, Harriet stared around. She had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be straight out of some sort of horror movie. The one she'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders.
Harriet had a bad feeling and the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up. Looking over her shoulder, she saw two older looking witches looking at her curiously. Feeling reasonably jumpy, she tried to hold her glasses on straight as she set off quickly, hoping to find her parents (or anybody remotely decent looking) soon.
Harriet paused after a minute, realizing that she wasn't getting anywhere. She knew that she had misspoken when using the Floo, so she could honestly be anywhere. She just hoped she wasn't too far from Diagon Alley and tried to stay calm as she figure out what to do.
"Lost, dearie?" a gravely voice spoke into her ear, making her jump. An aged wizard was standing behind her, holding with his gnarled hands a tray of what looked to be human fingers. He was looking hungrily at her.
Harriet shook her head rapidly, trying not to look as scared as she really was, but failing miserably. She slowly backed away, but the wizard followed her, smiling wider.
"I'm fine," she gasped, ignoring how scratchy her voice sounded, "honest."
The wizard made a subtle grab for her wrist, which Harriet narrowly avoided. She was trembling at this point.
"I really need to be going-"
"OI!" A booming yell cut across the alley "What'd yeh think yer doing to 'er? Leave the poor girl alone!" The old wizard cursed and left Harriet feeling even more lost than she had been before. Harriet searched the alley for her savior, finding it in the hulking form of the largest man she had ever seen.
"Get over 'ere!" he called to her, waving her to come with his massive arm. Harriet, looked at the alley, before deciding that the giant was definitely the lesser of two evils, and rushing towards him. He gave her no time to say anything, instead grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and pulling her along the twisting alleyway right into bright sunlight.
Harriet blinked, but before she could see where they were, the giant man had stepped in front of her, arms crossed, looking down at her with eyes glinting like black beetles. Now that they were in the sun, Harriet could better see the man who had saved her. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but Harriet could just make out the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He wore an enormous overcoat, and Harriet just managed to notice him tucking a small, grubby package into his pocket.
"What'd yeh think yer were doing? Skulkin' 'round Knockturn Alley, eh?" He growled. Harriet, still slightly panicked from what had happened, could do nothing more than stammer.
"Sorry! Floo powder- coughed- I got lost- first time..."
"Got lost on yer first time Flooin' alone, did yer?" Harriet nodded as the giant's face softened.
"Well, don't yeh worry too much 'bout it. Happens ter everybody at one point er 'nother." He looked down at her, once again, before smiling and beginning to brush the soot and dirt off her. He didn't seem to know his own strength, however, and almost forced her down in the process. She would most definitely have a few bruises from the experience.
"So," he said, continuing to brush off the soot. "What's yer name?"
"Harriet," she gasped, slightly winded, as the giant finally finished. "Harriet Potter."
"Well o' course yeh are!" He smiled even more widely at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up. "Don' know why I didn't recognize yeh e'fore! Course, I 'aven't seen yeh since ye were a baby, Harriet, and no bigger that a loaf o' bread, ter boot!" He gave her a curious look. "I don' suppose yeh 'member me?"
Harriet shook her head shyly. He didn't seem to mind though, instead, he just smiled some more at her.
"Rubeus Hagrid," he introduced himself. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts!"
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hagrid," she said politely. He waved a giant hand.
"None o' this "mister" stuff," he ordered, "makes me feel old. Just call me Hagrid." He looked over his shoulder and scanned the people behind him. "Now where 're yer parents, Harriet. I 'spect yeh was to meet them somewhere 'round 'ere?"
"Yes," she said, "We were supposed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, but I got lost using the Floo."
"Bet they're worried sick 'bout yeh," Hagrid nodded. "Good people, yer parents. 'aven't seen them in ages though. Be good to catch up with 'em." He patted her shoulder, almost knocking her over again. "Don't worry. I'll get yeh ter 'em, soon 'nough."
She bit her lip. "I'm not too far away, am I? From Diagon Alley, I mean?"
He laughed. "No," he chuckled, "not too far off." Seeing Harriet's confused expression, he stepped to the side, giving her her first view of what was behind him.
"Welcome, Harriet, ter Diagon Alley!"
Harriet Potter, Diagon Alley-July 25, 1991
Harriet gasped, because she had never seen anything like it before. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harriet had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…
Hagrid and Harriet were standing next to a large, snowy white building that towered over the rest. She craned her neck to try and get a view of the rest of the building.
"Gringotts," Hagrid told her leading her away, "the wizards' bank. Yeh'll pro'lly come back 'ere later with yer parents. I just finished some business there, meself. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him, like gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see." Hagrid turned and placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her forward. "Anywho, we gotteh get yeh ter the Leaky Cauldron!"
She found herself wishing for eight more eyes as Hagrid led her down the brightly lit alley. A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harriet's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harriet heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —"
She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"
She wasn't quite sure where Hagrid was taking her, but when he lead her to a plain brick wall, Harriet was as surprised as if he'd taken her to a floating building. She waited patiently for him to rummage around his coat, looking for something. Finally, he pulled out a pink umbrella.
"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harriet."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. Harriet's jaw dropped as the the brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, leading into what looked like a tiny and grubby looking pub.
"Be grateful if yeh don't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as he put away his umbrella. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin', 'cept fer special circumstances, like this one, with me 'elping you find yer parents, an' all."
Harriet nodded, and Hagrid lead her through the archway and into the pub.
After the amazing things that she and Hagrid had passed by, her expectations for the Leaky Cauldron had been great, so it was difficult to mask her disappointment. For the "famous place" Hagrid had described it as on their short journey, it was it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass.
"The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom," Hagrid refused, placing a massive hand on Harriet's shoulder, "Need ter help Harriet 'ere find 'er parents."
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harriet Potter… what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harriet and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."
Harriet didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harriet found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
"I've seen you before!" said Harriet, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Harriet shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harriet, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harriet's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it.
"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harriet to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"A'wright!" He boomed over the crowd! "That's 'nough! Gotta find Harriet's parents, now! So be off, the lot o' yeh!"
After giving one last smile to Dedalus Diggle, Harriet was lead through the main room into a smaller, much more quiet and empty, one. The room was no less dingy, but instead of tables and chairs, it was empty, save for several fireplaces against the wall. Standing calmy in a corner was a tall, dark skinned, bald wizard. It took Harriet a moment to realize who he was talking to.
"Mum," she gasped, as soon as she realized, "Dad!" She broke free from Hagrid and rushed towards them, just as they turned their heads to look at her.
"Harriet," sighed her mother in relief, wrapping her arms firmly around her in a tight hug. "We were so worried!"
"Are you alright, Prongslette?" she felt her father place a gentle hand on her back, rubbing it in a soothing motion. Harriet nodded against her mother's robes. "We were scared sick."
"I'm sorry," Harriet grimaced, looking up at both her parents, although their faces were incredibly blurry do to the fact that her glasses were still in her hand. Her father, realizing that she wasn't wearing her glasses, brought it up. Harriet sheepishly held them out. Her mother took them from her.
"Occulis repairo," she said firmly and, before Harriet's nearly blind eyes, the glasses were as good as new. Her mum carefully placed them back on Harriet's face, and she blinked as everything came into a much sharper focus.
"Thanks," she smiled.
"Harriet," said her father, suddenly realizing something, "this is Kingsley Shacklebolt." The bald wizard in question held out his hand to Harriet, who shook it firmly in return. "He's an Auror who works with me at the Ministry."
"Yes," his voice was deep and slow, giving Harriet the odd impression of somebody she could immediately trust. She couldn't quite place his accent, though. "Auror's don't usually handle missing children's cases, unless they belong to somebody who works at the department." He smiled at her, revealing a row of impossibly white teeth.
"The fact that you are Harriet Potter doesn't exactly hurt much," he winked at her, showing that he was joking, before turning to her parents, giving Harriet a glimpse of the earring in his right ear.
"I am glad that everything worked out well," he told them. "I must return to the Ministry and file a report." Lily smiled at him.
"Thank you for coming," she said sincerely, green eyes shining, placing a hand over his, "You have no idea how much we appreciate it."
Kingsley and her father shook hands as he, too, gave his thanks. Kingsley turned once more to Harriet.
"Its been a pleasure, Harriet. I hope you have a fantastic time at Hogwarts!" He ruffled her hair, something people tended to do a lot, Harriet noticed; he waved a cheery goodbye to Hagrid, who had been watching from the doorway, where he was also preventing anybody from entering the room, before hopping into the Floo and heading back to work.
"Are you sure you are alright, love?" her mother asked her anxiously, looking down at her. Harriet nodded, wanting to ease her mum's worries.
"I'm fine, mum! Honest!" she added, when it seemed her mother didn't believe her. "Hagrid helped me!" Both her parents looked up at the giant in question, having not seen him before and just realizing his presence.
"Hagrid!" exclaimed her father, surprised. "Its been far too long!" Hagrid walked up to them and wrapped them both in a tight hug, not even giving them a chance to protest as they were scooped up by the giant of a man. Harriet watched bemusedly from the side as both her mother and father were almost crushed by him.
"Lily! James!" he sniffed, letting them go rather unceremoniously. They straightened themselves up while Hagrid dug around his coat, eventually pulling out large handkerchief. "It's been to long! I was worried 'bout yer! Thought ye'd never wake up!" He blew his nose and sniffed, looking highly miserable all of a sudden.
"Yes, well," said Harriet's mum, trying to calm down the sobbing gamekeeper, "we are both absolutely fine." She patted his back until he finally settled down and gave the three of them a small grin.
"Thank you," said her father, before Hagrid could begin crying again, "for looking after Harriet, for us."
Hagrid shrugged his large shoulders.
"It was my pleasure," he said firmly. " 'Sides, couldn't let a little girl go wanderin' 'round Knockturn Alley, now, could I?"
"No," her mum said softly shooting her another worried glance at the name of where Harriet had been. "I don't suppose you could."
"We need to get going," her father sighed, checking his watch, looking a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to catch up with another old friend. "We have to get Harriet's Hogwarts supplies."
"Thats right!" Hagrid exclaimed, snapping his fingers, "Yer startin' Hogwarts this year! An' yer birthday's comin' up soon, too?"
"Next week," Harriet offered. Hagrid nodded, looking deep in thought. He looked down at her through his great tangle of hair.
"I'll 'ave to get yer a present," Harriet went to protest, but he wouldn't let her. "Goin' ter be to busy gettin' Hogwarts set up next week, so I guess I'll 'ave to give it ter yeh a few days early." He chuckled. "Don' think yeh'd mind that too much, though."
"You really don't have to-" she argued, but, again, he shot her down, telling her that he'd meet up with them later, once he'd found her something. He left Harriet and her parents, whistling merrily as he walked. She turned back to her parents, who were conversing quietly about where they needed to go first.
In the end, Gringotts was decided to be there first destination. They took the same path that Harriet took to get there from Knockturn Alley with Hagrid, but the sights were no less amazing to Harriet, who was constantly whipping her head around and turning to walk backwards just so she could try and see as much as she could. Her parents explained some of the more odd sights and, by the time they reached Gringotts, Harriet's head felt as though it was about to burst with the newfound information.
Once, again, Harriet found herself near the imposing white building, but, this time, she noticed something she had not previously seen. Standing by the door, wearing a scarlet and gold uniform, was a little creature (Harriet didn't really know what else to call it, as it didn't look human enough to be called human, but nor did it look animal enough to be called an animal). Its skin was wrinkled and it was about a head shorter than Harriet, but its pointed face looked both shrewd and clever, while its overly long fingers looked surprisingly nimble.
"Yes, love," said her mother softly to her unspoken question. Harriet looked up at her, their identical green eyes meeting. "thats a goblin."
"Tricky little creatures," noted James, "and very sharp, too." He gave her a warning look. "You never want to mess with a goblin, Harriet. Its not a very good idea."
Harriet nodded, taking the information to heart, as they walked up the stone steps to the door. The goblin bowed as they entered, the end of its little beard almost touching the tips of his large shoes. Harriet watched as he straightened back up, coloring a bit when he caught her staring. His mouth merely twisted upward in an odd smirk as he went to bow to the next wizard entering the bank.
Harriet and her parents found themselves staring at another set of doors, these silver, with words engraved carefully on them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Well," muttered Harriet, face pulling into a slightly thoughtful frown, "thats cheerful." Her father, hearing her, snorted.
"Well, goblins are very protective of their treasure," he said, still amused, "you'd be mad to try and rob Gringotts. Its probably the safest place in the world, aside from Hogwarts."
Harriet raised an eyebrow. "But technically," she pointed out, "the treasure isn't theirs!"
"Semantics to goblins, Harriet." James frowned. "They see things a lot differently than we do. To them, they've been entrusted the treasure to guard, so its theirs. At least, until the proper owner takes it back."
"Why do they think like that?" asked Harriet curiously, but her father didn't have an answer for her right away. The three stared at the door for a moment, only to be interrupted by another wizard, who was obviously impatient to go through.
"Sorry," Harriet offered, as they stepped to the side for him. He gave no answer, simply an annoyed huff, and stomped into the bank, the doors opened by two more goblins on the inside (how they knew when somebody wanted to enter was lost on Harriet, but she assumed it was some type of magic). Harriet got a brief glimpse of the opulent interior of the bank right before the door slammed in their faces. Again, they stood in silence, Harriet waiting patiently for her parents to digest her question.
"I'm not sure." Her father finally shrugged. "Some people think they're just too stupid to recognize what does and doesn't belong to them." He said this in a tone that clearly showed Harriet that he was not one of those people.
"They seem to smart for that," Harriet protested quietly, still staring up at the words on the door. They had been engrossed in their discussion, so had not yet entered the bank. Her mum smiled down at her.
"They are incredibly intelligent, love." She gave a wistful smile, a far off look in her eye. "They know things that we can only dream of."
Harriet cocked her head at her mothers look. Her mother, she had learned, had been a bit of a bookworm at Hogwarts, learning anything she could about everything that she could, and it seemed that this attitude still remained with her, even in adulthood.
"A lot of wizards," her father began slowly, "think that they're superior to muggles, magical creatures-even other wizards."
"Pure wizard blood is counting for less and less these days." quoted Harriet, thinking back to her excursion in the shop and the words of Mr. Borgin, the hunch-backed shopkeeper with oily hair and a slimy smile. "Is that what you mean?" Her mother gave her a sharp look.
"Where did you hear that?"
Harriet looked down at her feet and mumbled, "Knockturn Alley. The shop I was in...there was a man there with his son. He was talking to the owner..."
Her mum sighed, "When we get home, you are going to give us more details about what happened to you when you got lost." Harriet nodded, although grudgingly. "As to your question, it is, partially. Some wizards think that pureblooded wizards, those with only magical blood, are better than half-bloods or muggleborns. Other wizards think that all magical creatures are inferior to wizards, regardless of his or her descent."
"Is that what Moony meant when he was explaining about the werewolves?"
"Exactly," approved her father of her conclusion. "But its not just werewolves. Other magical creatures like goblins, centaurs, giants, and house-elves are all thought of as less important. The truth, though, is that oftentimes they are just as powerful, if not more powerful, than we are."
"Its just a different type of magic," her mum said.
"Maybe its fear, then?" asked Harriet, looking up at her parents. "Whats making them think like that, I mean. Maybe they're afraid of things that are different. The Dursleys were."
"People usually are afraid of things they don't fully understand," her mum admitted. "The problem is that they are usually too afraid to try and understand it, so they shun it." Her mum grimaced. "Its a rather vicious cycle."
"Isn't it also racism, in a way?" scowled Harriet. Her mother sighed and nodded, so Harriet turned back to the sign. It was funny, she thought, the wizarding world wasn't nearly as magical a place as she had first expected. As amazing as it was, there seemed to be a few things that the muggle world had figured out first.
"Its rubbish, of course," her father rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "Thankfully, its an older attitude that's dying out, and rather quickly, too. A lot more wizards are accepting that sometimes we don't always know whats best."
"So some wizards think that they're better than other people just because they were born either completely human or from other wizards?" Harriet asked, wide eyed, trying to fully understand everything she was learning. Her mother nodded and her father placed his hand on her shoulder. Harriet bit her lip.
"I think that this is one of those times when wizards are the ones who have got things the wrong way around."
Harriet looked at both her parents, then back at the door that had started the conversation. If the door realized the impact it had made on the eleven year old witch, it didn't make any sign of it. When the Potters finally pushed it open, several minutes after they had first stepped foot in the bank, the door opened for them just like it would have for anybody else.
AN: So as you've probably figured out by now, this story isn't going to follow the original plotline exactly. Book One will be pretty similar, but from then on, I plan on changing things up a bit.
As always, I hope you and enjoy!
P.S. Reviews make me smile :-)