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, Gringotts Bank- July 25, 1991
"Good morning. We are here to take some money out of the Potter vault." The goblin at the desk looked up and sneered at the three wizards in front of him as politely as he could, a feat Harriet found rather impressive.
While her father talked to the goblin, Harriet looked around the great marble hall. Goblins of all sorts roamed the building, some of them showing people around, others bustling about with packages and things. Seated at the desks were goblins doing paperwork, goblins examining gems and coins, and goblins doing all sorts of other things.
"Do you have your key?" the goblin was saying when Harriet turned her attention back to them.
"Right here," her mother said promptly, easily pulling the key out of the inside of her robe. The goblin gave another sneer, this time one that clearly stated he was a bit impressed. Most likely at her organization, judging by the state of his desk and books.
"And which Potter vault shall you be visiting, today?" he asked, taking the key from her mum.
"Vault 687," her father answered. The goblin nodded and said nothing for a few seconds. Then, "Everything seems to be in order," he said, finally, sounding just a bit disappointed. Harriet had to resist the urge to snicker. "I will find somebody to take you to the vault. Griphook!"
When the Griphook didn't respond, the goblin grumbled to himself and got up, waddling over to one of the bak rooms, continuing to call Griphook's name.
"'Which vault?'" Harriet echoed, startled, remembering the goblin's words.
"We have more than one," her father corrected idly, watching the goblin finally make his way back to them with another, supposedly Griphook. "They're your vaults, too, now."
"Come along then," snapped Griphook, before Harriet had a chance to respond to her father. He lead them through a small door and into a narrow passageway, which was lit with torches. They followed it downward (Harriet almost tripped several times) and eventually reached some rail-road tracks. At Griphook's whistle, a small cart came rumbling down the tracks towards them. It stopped in front of them.
Giving her parents a weary glance, Harriet stepped in once they nodded to show her it was okay.
Then, they were off.
As they hurtled through the maze of passageways, Harriet did her best to keep track of where they were going (left, right, right, left, middle, right…), but in the end had to give up. A glance at her parents showed that they were as lost as she was. In fact, only the cart seemed to know where they were going, since it seemed to be steering itself.
At one point, Harriet would've sworn that she saw a dragon (a bright burst of flame alerted her to it), but when she leaned out of the cart to see if she could get another glimpse. Her father pulled her swiftly back. She gave him a sheepish grin.
When the cart finally stopped in front of a small door, Harriet was so dizzy she could barely stand. Her parents were fairing a bit better, and Griphook seemed entirely unaffected. He walked over to the door and placed the key in the lock, opening it. Green smoke billowed out, and Harriet worried that something had gone wrong. Nobody else seemed concerned, though, so she supposed that this was normal. When it cleared, Harriet, whose parents had already explained wizard currency to her, was left staring at mounds of gold Galleons, columns of Sickles and heaps of little bronze Knuts.
Harriet couldn't believe it. For years, the Dursleys had done nothing but complain about how much it cost to raise her. It was one of the reasons why she never complained about Dudley's hand-me-downs or eating their leftovers— if it cost so much to have her, surely it was the least she could do?— but this… She was certain the Dursleys didn't know about this. Despite their hatred of all things magical, she doubted they would've minded all the gold and silver in the Potter vaults.
"That was my first reaction, too," her mother said softly, while her father got to work filling the small bag he happened to have with him. Harriet smiled, appreciating, for the first time, that, like her, her mother didn't always know about magic. Nor did she always have access to the Potter vaults. Harriet vaguely wondered if all the Potter vaults contained a small fortune like this one did.
"There we go," her father said, stepping back out of the vault and drawing the drawstring of the little bag tight. "That should be enough for a couple of terms."
They clambered back into the cart, which once again set off and its backbreaking pace. Soon, they found themselves standing outside of Gringotts, blinking in the bright sunlight.
Harriet Potter, Diagon Alley-July 1, 1991
Harriet glanced around at some of the shops, trying to see if she could guess where they were going first, but eventually giving up and looking at her parents, who were watching her patiently.
"Well?" her mum asked her. "Any particular preference?" Harriet shook her head, not really sure of where to start.
"How about lunch," suggested her father. Seeing his daughter's surprised face, he smiled. "Yes, lunch. Between visiting Gringotts and you're little side trip to Knockturn Alley, its already past lunch time."
They chose the corner booth at a small diner, the name of which Harriet couldn't pronounce. After ordering their food, Harriet gave them a brief account of her trip to Knockturn Alley. Then, they quietly discussed what they needed to buy and where they should stop first. Harriet laughed when her father immediately suggested that Quality Quidditch Supplies be their first stop.
By the time they had finished their meal and left their restaurant, they decided that, first and foremost, Harriet would need some robes for Hogwarts, and that Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions should be the first stop.
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was a cozy shop that looked smaller on the outside than it was on the inside, something Harriet figured wasn't uncommon among wizard shops, judging by the store in Knockturn Alley. Madam Malkin, a small witch dressed completely in mauve, greeted them with a warm smile.
"Welcome" she began, as though it was a customary speech, "to-" She gasped, suddenly recognizing the Potter family. Harriet wasn't quite sure how she would react, but she was pleasantly surprised when Madam Malkin rushed to embrace both of her parents, instead of focusing on her.
"Lily," she said happily, backing away from them after a moment. "James! It is such a pleasure to see you both again! I was so happy when I heard!"
"We appreciate it," said her mum, looking more than a bit embarrassed, although it was clear that she was also dearly touched.
"You'll be needing some robes, I assume," Madam Malkin said briskly, quickly assuming a rather businesslike demeanor.
"Actually," Harriet's father interrupted, before she could get too carried away, "We are all taken care of, for now." Remus, given their sizes, had gone and purchased some clothing for them while he was setting up the house.
"We are here because Harriet needs her school robes. She'll be at Hogwarts soon."
"Oh, Harriet Potter!" Madam Malkin's eyes turned to Harriet and flicked upwards to her scar. For a split second, Harriet thought Madam Malkin was going to begin fawning over her like the customers of the Leaky Cauldron, but she seemed to contain herself and smiled. "You look so much like your parents!"
Ushering the three to the back of the store, she quickly took Harriet's measurements and then ordered them to wait there while she went to the back to look at some fabrics. Harriet's mother, curious as to what she had, went with her, leaving just Harriet and her father.
There was, however, another girl her age in the back of the room. Slightly chubby, she had dark brown hair and a tan face with a squashed-in nose. Harriet waited to see if the girl would notice her, hoping to be able to finally make a friend her age, but the girl was too busy yapping away to Madam Malkin's poor assistant, a young witch who was obligated to listen.
"My father is next door buying my books," the girl was informing the seamstress's assistant, "and my mother is out looking at wands." The girl gave the seamstress a sour look. "I do hope," she drawled, "that you are done by the time they get back.
"It will be done soon, Ms. Parkinson," said the seamstress in a tired voice.
"It better look like the one I saw in TweenWitch Monthly. I don't to be caught dead in out of date robes." She continued to explain to the seamstress about how "dreadfully awful and completely humiliating" it must be for wizards or witches who couldn't afford their own custom made robes." Harriet, reminded strongly of a female Dudley (only, she looked more like a pug than a pig), turned away, slightly disgusted. She felt her father kneel down next to her, so she turned to look at him.
"What do you say, Prongslette?" he asked her with a small smile. "Want to try and make a new friend?" He gestured over to the Parkinson girl and Harriet grimaced a bit.
"I really rather not," she said a bit hesitantly, looking at her father, worried that he would try and get her to talk to her anyways, which he did not. Instead, he observed the talkative girl for a moment, before laughing lightly and nodding in agreement with her.
"Doesn't exactly seem like the most pleasant sort, does she?" Harriet shook her head rapidly. "I wouldn't worry, then. Besides, you'll have plenty of time to make friends once you're at Hogwarts."
"Maybe I'll meet my own Moony and Padfoot!" Harriet said hopefully. Her father gave her a large smile that Harriet recognized as the one he got whenever he thought about his two best friends.
"I'm sure you will," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then straightening back up. Harriet leant against him, so he put his arms around her, holding her close to his front. They stood like that for a few minutes as they patiently awaited the return of Harriet's mother and Madam Malkin.
When they returned, each carried several different fabrics, from which they asked Harriet to choose one or two. She did, feeling slightly dazed since fashion and fabrics were not really her specialty. She was fitted into several different robes, which were pinned and tucked and hemmed, until finally, Madam Malkin had enough to finish the rest of the robes. After Madam Malkin had assured the Potters that the robes would be delivered to their home in time for Hogwarts, they left to get the rest of Harriet's things.
Harriet spent a lot of time examining everything in the shops they went to: at Flourish and Blotts, where they got her school books, it was books on curses ("For Dudley!" she protested as her parents lead her away); at the Apothecary it was jars of herbs and unicorn horns and beetle eyes; and at the potions shop it was the different cauldrons they had for potions brewing (she ended up getting a pewter one, as her school list suggested).
Outside the Apothecary, they looked Harriet's list again. Her father smiled.
"Just your wand now, Prongslette." Harriet didn't even bother to contain her excitement as they walked over to Ollivanders. The shop was narrow and rather shabby, with a sign over the door that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. In the dusty, display window, there was a single wand floating above a dirty, purple pillow. Harriet wondered why they bothered with a velvet cushion for a floating wand.
Their entrance to the shop was announced by the tinkle of a bell (like at the store in Knockturn Alley). It wasn't a large shop, nor was it especially well lit. There were a few chairs that her parents immediately sat on to wait, an old cabinet, and a counter. Other than that, the shop contained nothing but rows and rows of narrow boxes piled high, right up to the ceiling.
The back of Harriet's neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
She shot a wary look at her parents, who smiled in an encouragement. She walked a bit closer to the front counter.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harriet jumped in surprise. In the darkness of the store, Harriet could make out on old man she hadn't seen before standing amongst the rows of boxes. He was older, with pale skin, and wide, grey eyes.
"Er, hello." Harriet said awkwardly, not too sure what to make of the man.
"Ah yes," said the man, moving toward the counter. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harriet Potter." He looked down at her, his eyes almost seeming to see right through her, but not in the same way Dumbledore's did. "You have your mother's eyes." Harriet wondered how many more times she was going to hear that in her lifetime. He looked over her shoulder to where Harriet's parents were sitting.
"Lily," he inclined his head as a greeting. "James. If I remember correctly, Lily, your wand was ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Her mother fingered the wand in her robe pocket and gave a small smile, "Thats right, Mr. Ollivander."
"You, James," Ollivander turned his light eyes to Harriet's father, "favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration." Harriet's father grinned and nodded, prompting Ollivander to look again at Harriet. "I say your father favored it," he said softly, "but truly its the wand that chooses the wizard."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close to Harriet that, had they been the same height, their noses would have been touching. He reached up with a gnarled finger and traced the scar on Harriet's forehead. She heard her parents stiffen behind her, but Mr. Ollivander didn't do anything. He merely sighed and dropped his hand. Harriet could see herself reflected in his misty eyes, mingling with a great sadness and regret.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"
Harriet gulped, "It wasn't your fault, sir." He peered at her from underneath his tangle of white hair.
"I am glad that you, of all people, Harriet, do not hold me accountable for what I did." He gave her a small smile. Then, to her great relief, he turned around and began rummaging around a door behind the counter. He pulled out a small tape measure.
"Which is your wand arm, Ms. Potter?" he asked, suddenly all business. Harriet started at the sudden change in tone.
"Well, I'm right handed-" Harriet began, unsure if that was what he meant. It was, apparently.
"Hold out your right arm, please. Thats it." Ollivander proceeded to take several different types of measurements— of her arms, her legs, her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Mr. Ollivander left the tape measure to finish taking some measurements (nothing in the wizarding world would surprise Harriet anymore, she thought) as he began to move through the different shelves, occasionally picking up and taking down different boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor, barely missing Harriet's toes. "Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible.
Harriet took the wand and looked at it, not really sure what to do. Mr. Ollivander raised an eyebrow and gave an impatient sigh.
"Go on!" He gestured, "Just take it and give it a wave!"
Harriet jumped, then collected herself. Taking a deep breath, she gave the wand a light flick. The vase of roses near the window suddenly shattered, spilling water and flower petals everywhere. Mr. Ollivander made a curious noise in the back of his throat as Harriet's mum waved her wand, instantly fixing the vase.
"That hasn't happened in awhile." Mr. Ollivander quickly snatched the wand out of Harriet's hand and placed it delicately into the box. Harriet was handed another wand, a bit smaller and darker than the previous one.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"
Harriet tried —and an entire row of drawers in the cabinet sprung forth, scattering paper everywhere. Harriet's father, who had been standing directly in the line of fire, had to quickly duck in order to avoid being hit. He stood up after a moment and smoothed out his clothes, shooting his wife and daughter a smile to assure them that he was okay.
"No," gasped Mr. Ollivander, "No, No! Definitely not." Harriet placed the wand back on the counter gingerly, worried that if she did it too roughly, the wand would be set off.
"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Harriet tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on counter Harriet's attempts were growing more and more destructive: already, she had cracked the bell above the door, killed the flowers, broken a window, and even set fire to Mr. Ollivander's hair. Mr. Ollivander wasn't angry, though. In fact, he just laughed as Harriet's father put out the flame. Despite the fact that Harriet seemed liable to blow up the store, he was downright giddy. It seemed that the more wands he pulled down from the shelves, the happier he became.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
He carefully handed it to Harriet, who took it hesitantly. Almost immediately, she knew this would be different. The wand sent warmth shooting from her fingertips and rushing through her entire body. Harriet gave it a small wave and immediately felt a breeze pick up around the shop, whipping her hair in a frenzy. A flurry of gold sparks shot from the end of the wand and fluttered about in the windo.
Her father and mother clapped, obviously relieved that they wouldn't have to dodge anymore flying cats (Harriet felt awfully bad for what she had done to Mr. Ollivander's tabby, but he had told her not to worry about it and that it would be fine).
Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"
He put Harriet's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"
"Sorry, sir," said Harriet, feeling her parents come up behind her, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harriet with his pale stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."
Harriet didn't know what to say and she couldn't help but swallow.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."
Harriet took a half-step backwards, running into her parents. She managed to find and clutch her mother's hand, looking carefully at Ollivander. She wasn't too sure about whether or not she liked Mr. Ollivander. A tap on the window drew Harriet's attention away from Mr. Ollivander, who didn't seem to realize how creepy he was being.
Hagrid stood outside the window, grinning hugely and waving madly to get their attention. It took Harriet a moment to recall Hagrid's promise to her earlier, but, when she did, she smiled and waved back. They quickly paid for the wand, eager to leave the store, and met the huge man outside.
Hagrid didn't say anything. Instead, he lifted up something in his hand: perched calmy in a cage was a beautiful, snowy white owl.
"Yeh like 'er?" Hagrid asked, anxiously.
Harriet's smile gave him all the answer he needed.
Living Room, Potter Manor- July 25, 1991
When James walked into his living room through the Floo, he was not surprised to see Remus and Sirius lounging on his couch, as they had told him they wanted to hear about Harriet's trip to Diagon Alley as soon as they could. Harriet, who had convinced both her mother and himself to let her try the Floo on her own again, launched herself at both of them as soon as she saw them.
"Moony!" she exclaimed, "Padfoot!"
"Hello, Prongslette!" laughed Sirius. When Harriet backed away, moving to sit in the middle of the couch, James got a better look at both his friends. They both looked exhausted and he could see traces of dust and grime that they must have missed when they were cleaning themselves off. Sirius, as happy as he looked to see his goddaughter, had a haunted and rather bitter look in his eyes. James needed to talk to him.
"Hey, Prongslette," he began, "Padfoot and Moony are really knackered from cleaning all day. Why don't you take your new things upstairs and put them away? While they rest a little bit, you could see if your new owl gets along with Isaura."
Harriet gave her father a slightly suspicious glance, knowing that that couldn't be the real reason she was being asked to vacate the room. She's just as smart as her mother, James thought, trying not smile proudly. Harriet finally nodded and, after giving both Sirius and Remus a quick kiss on the cheek, she took what she needed and headed upstairs.
"I'll go make some tea," Lily offered, knowing that this was one of those times where her husband needed to be alone with his friends.
"You alright, Padfoot?" he asked, as soon as his wife had left the room. Sirius just sighed and placed his head in his hands, leaning forward and shaking his head a bit.
"It was so hard being back there again," he answered, voice coming out a bit muffled. "I was reliving a part of my life that I thought that I had left behind me a long time ago."
"You don't have to live there, Padfoot," Remus pointed out gently. "I know you don't want to share a flat with me for the rest of your life, but you could always buy a new house when you want to move out."
"Yea," sighed Sirius, looking miserably up at his friends, eyes a bit red. "thats probably what I'll do. But that house has quite a few powerful enchantments and wards around it. I wanted to see if it could be of any use some day in the future. "
"Was it?" asked James, curiously, wishing that he could have been there to help his long-time best friends. "I mean, was it still in decent shape?"
Sirius shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. He leant back on the couch. "Not too bad. Very dirty, as I'm sure you can imagine. Kreacher didn't do a very good job keeping it clean."
"He's still there?" snorted James. Sirius gave a small laugh. "What about your mother's portrait?"
"Oh yes," Sirius agreed. "She's still there."
"And as pleasant as ever," Remus remarked sarcastically. "The entire time we were there, she kept screaming about "filthy half-breeds" and "blood-traitors."
"You'd think after having nothing to do but hang on a wall for thirteen years," mused Sirius with a smile, "she would have come up with better insults."
The three of them laughed together. When it faded, they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Lily humming in the kitchen. They could hear Harriet rummaging around in her room, trying to put all of her new school supplies away.
"Thanks," Sirius said, after a few moments. He didn't need to tell Remus or James what he was thanking them for. They knew. After so many years of friendship, it was not difficult to guess what the other was thinking.
"Did Harriet-" Sirius began, only to be cut short by the sound of the Floo ringing. James was pretty sure he felt his jaw drop when he saw who had called on them.
"Snape?" he asked incredulously, staring unabashedly at the head sticking out from the green flames of the fireplace. He managed to compose himself "What are you doing here?"
"Lily informed me that Harriet would be making her first trip to Diagon Alley," he sneered, "and I simply wanted to make sure that you had not forgotten to purchase any of the Potions supplies she'll be needing in my class."
James raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think Lily would forget anything?" James smirked a bit. "You wanted to make sure Harriet was alright."
Snape scowled deeper. "It is none of my concern whether or not the brat had a good time at Diagon Alley."
James just laughed and fixed the Potions master with a shrewd look. Even after their rather interesting dinner the night before (was it just the night before? It seemed like ages ago) when they had come to a tentative truce, James did not like nor trust the professor. But Snape seemed honestly concerned for his daughter (no matter how hard he tried to hide it) and, truthfully, James found it very difficult to hate a man who cared for his daughter.
"Why don't you come on through," he suggested, after a minute, "I was just about to tell Remus and Sirius what happened. And Lily is making tea," he added as an afterthought, hoping that the knowledge that Lily was there would convince Snape that this was not some elaborate ruse they were trying to set up.
His head left and, for a moment, James thought that Snape wasn't coming. The Floo roared loudly a moment later, though, and Snape stepped through, sneering at the Marauders as if daring them to make a comment.
They didn't.
The four men sat in the living room quietly, but, unlike before, the silence was not a comfortable. Nobody really seemed sure of where to look or what to do, so they did nothing but stare at the floor and occasionally fidget a bit. It was Snape, of all people, who broke the silence.
"Well, Potter?" He drawled. James looked up at him. "Are we going to sit here all day? Or are you going to give us an account of your brat's trip? I do have things to do."
"Right," said James, honestly relieved that somebody had broken the awkward silence. "Where should I start?"
"How about with the beginning?" joked Remus, adding, more seriously, "You mentioned you were going to let Harriet Floo on her own for the first time. She must have been a bit nervous. How did that go?"
"She coughed," James made a face.
"She coughed?" Sirius asked, obviously confused. "What does that have to do with anything? Is she coming down with something?"
James shook his head. "As she was telling the Floo where she wanted to go, she coughed." The other men nodded in realization.
"So," demanded Snape, a bit more crossly than he usually did, "Where did she end up?"
"Not too far," said James lightly. Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius gave him a sharp look. Both Marauders recognized when James was trying to avoid an issue. He darkly scowled at them.
"Knockturn Alley." All heads turned to the kitchen door, from which Lily had just emerged carrying a tray of tea. Placing it on the coffee table, she balanced herself on the arm of couch, next to her husband.
"Knockturn Alley?" Remus repeated. "Are you sure?" Remus realized what a ridiculous question that was and, not giving them a chance to answer, asked, "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Her glasses were smashed from when she fell from the Floo, but she wasn't hurt." James said, much to the relief of the three other men in the room (Snape would still, of course, deny having felt anything at all).
"What store did she end up in?" asked Sirius.
"Borgin and Burkes," sighed Lily. Sirius, who had been pouring tea into his cup, stared at her incredulously, not even noticing when the teacup began to overflow.
"Why do I get the feeling that I am going to be spending half my time at Hogwarts this year chasing your daughter out of places she shouldn't be?" Snape groused to Lily. Lily just laughed at him and smiled cheekily.
"Did she get out of there quickly?" Remus inquired, worried about Harriet, despite the fact that he had seen her several minutes ago looking perfectly healthy.
"She tried, but somebody entered the shop and she panicked." Lily shook her head. "She hid inside a cabinet that was, thankfully, perfectly harmless."
"Hiding wasn't a bad idea," Sirius noted. "It wouldn't be a good idea for the Girl-Who-Lived to be caught in Knockturn Alley, regardless of whether or not she meant to be there. No doubt somebody from the Daily Prophet would have gotten wind of it and..." He trailed off, not wanting to imagine the hell that would break loose.
"Who was it that came into the shop?" Remus asked.
"She said it was a man and a boy about her age," Lily explained. "According to her, Borgin said their last name was Malfoy. They were selling something, although Harriet couldn't see what. Most likely because of the raids."
"The Malfoys are still around?" asked Sirius surprised, sitting up straighter on the couch. "That family was pretty tight in Voldemort's inner circle, if I remember correctly. I would have thought that they, well, Lucius at the very least, would be in Azkaban by now."
"Lucius Malfoy made several considerable donations to the Ministry," Snape drawled, taking a sip of tea, "thus placing him above suspicion for the time being. "
"Git," snorted Sirius at Malfoy's not-so-subtle bribery.
"So Harriet found her way out of Borgin and Burkes after the Malfoys left?" prodded Remus, after a moment. Both Lily and James nodded.
"After she left Borgin and Burkes, she wandered around for a minute, trying to find her way out. Thankfully, Hagrid was there and helped her find us back at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Hagrid!" Remus beamed. "I haven't seen him in ages! How is he?"
"He was well," acknowledged Lily. "He was very happy to see us and Harriet."
"Please tell me everything after that went well," Sirius begged, making his friends laugh. "My nerves are already on end." Snickering, James answered his friend.
"Yes, there was nothing out of the ordinary after that." He paused for a moment and exchanged a look with his wife. "Well, her trip to Ollivander's was odd..." Remus scoffed.
"When is that trip not odd?" Remus rolled his eyes. "Ollivander is one of the most bizarre men I've ever met, which is saying something, since I live with him!" He jabbed a finger in Sirius's direction, making him shoot a glare at his friend. Lily shook her head.
"No, it wasn't exactly that." She frowned. "When you were trying out wands, when you used a wand that wasn't yours, did anything happen?" Everybody shook their heads.
"Harriet ended up destroying half the store," James massaged his head. "Every time she tried out another wand, there was something different: breaking vases, flying drawers, setting Ollivander's hair on fire-"
"She did that?" guffawed Sirius, Remus chuckling appreciatively. Even Snape couldn't resist a small smirk.
"I've heard of things like that happening," Remus assured his friends, once he had calmed down. "Its not common, but its not unheard of. There was a recent paper published in the wizarding medical journals about it. In all honesty, I'm not surprised it happened with Harriet."
Seeing the curious looks of his friends, he hastened to explain.
"As you know, accidental magic occurs because, when wizards are young, their magical Core is constantly in flux," Remus began, in his best lecturing voice. "The level of magic held with their Core is still adjusting and growing and developing. Sometimes, it surges to a point where a child is not able to contain it, manifesting itself in accidental magic, like when a cup overflows with water. Thats why accidental magic is encouraged. Not just because it ensures that a child has magic, but also because bottling up the magic, so to speak, can have detrimental affects on the child-"
"Yes, Moony," Sirius huffed impatiently, "We know all that already. What does it have to do with Harriet?"
"It all goes back to Dursleys," began Remus, scowling at his friend for interrupting him. James made a face.
"Why does it always have to go back to them?"
"If what Harriet has told us is accurate, the Dursleys made an attempt to punish every incident of Harriet's accidental magic," explained Remus, running a hand through his hair. "and we can assume that this started as soon as she entered their house. At some point, probably without even realizing it, she began to restrain her magic in order to avoid punishment. I don't know if you remember, but Harriet used to do quite a bit of accidental magic as a baby."
James snorted. "I remember. There was this one time where she came down with a cold and, for over a week, every time she sneezed, my hair changed color."
"If you've noticed, Harriet doesn't do nearly as much accidental magic now, though."
"Couldn't that just be attributed to her getting older and her Core stabilizing?"
"Normally," agreed Remus, "that is what I would say was happening. But that doesn't really explain what happened at Ollivander's. According to the paper I read, abused children often put a "stopper" of sorts on their magical Core, preventing any further accidental magic."
Both Lily and James winced at hearing Harriet being described as "abused." Snape, however, nodded in agreement with Remus.
"There have been quite a few abused children in Slytherin over the years. More so than in other houses." said Snape. "What Remus is explaining isn't uncommon, but normally, the child is not able to maintain the control for extended periods of time and, at some point or another, unleashes his or her magic in a way that could leave their family scarred forever. Either that, or the child is left psychologically and physically damaged from the build-up in their Core unleashing itself internally." Snape took a sip of tea. "For Potter to maintain control for so long without any damage to her health..." Snape shook his head, doubting it.
"Madam Pomfrey's scans didn't find anything," protested James, slightly panicked.
"Its not like Harriet didn't do any accidental magic," pointed out Sirius, trying not to laugh at the mental image of Harriet's uncle floating to the ceiling like some ugly balloon.
"From what Harriet's told us about her accidental magic," agreed Remus, "it seems more likely that she released her built up magic in several, larger instances, as opposed to the many, smaller instances that usually occur in magical children, which served her purpose well: less accidental magic meant less punishment, since the Dursleys didn't seem to care to much about the magnitude of the incident."
"Even then," Snape protested, "it might be enough to keep her Core from imploding, but it would still be "filled to the brink," he spoke caustically, "to use your" he sneered, "wonderful expression."
"Thats where the occurrence at Ollivander's comes in," said Remus calmy, not rising to the bait. "Wands act as channels for magic. Harriet's been bottling her magic up for so long that, as soon as it was given a way out, it exploded, regardless of whether or not it was her wand. Similar to when you shake up a bottle of Butterbeer or Firewhiskey and it explodes the moment the top comes off."
"Well," murmured Lily, visibly relaxing, "that makes me feel quite a bit better. Thank-you, Remus."
Remus just inclined his head, taking the final sip of his tea and placing the cup back on the table. Sirius, on the other hand, was warily eyeing his friend, who still a bit tense.
"Prongs," Sirius said, catching James's attention, "that wasn't the only thing that happened, was it?"
"Not exactly," admitted James. "Ollivander gave us some very interesting information regarding Harriet's wand."
"What about it?" asked Remus, looking at his two friends curiously, wondering what information could have affected them so strongly.
"Its the brother of Voldemort's wand," Lily stated bluntly. Sirius, Remus, and Snape didn't really know what to say to that, so they were just quiet for a moment, taking some time to absorb the information.
"I am not going to lie," Sirius finally said. "I did not see that coming."
"I don't think anybody did," Remus shot a look at Sirius. "It is definitely a bit disconcerting, but-"
"A bit?" echoed James, annoyed. "My daughter has Voldemort's brother wand!"
"It doesn't mean anything," protested Remus, before pausing. "At least," he added weakly, "I don't think it does. I'm not very familiar with wand lore. I can take a look though," he muttered, more to himself. "I might be able to find something where I work."
"You seem to be viewing the occurrence as a bad thing," said Snape.
"Oh?" Sirius demanded. "Excuse us for not thinking that Harriet having the brother wand of your old master is cause for celebration!"
"Sirius," Lily hissed, glaring harshly. Snape, however, seemed completely unaffected by the barbed comment.
"Foolish Gryffindor," he sneered, "always thinking of the immediate effect and never looking toward the future. Do you not know of what happens when brother wands are forced to meet one another?"
Judging by their blank stares, Snape assumed they didn't.
"Brother wands do not work properly against one another," Snape sighed, trying to keep his impatience and exasperation out of his voice. "If Potter ever finds herself facing the Dark Lord, she will, at the very least, have that advantage."
"Amazingly enough," James rolled his eyes, "I don't find that thought too reassuring."
Harriet Potter, Potter Manor- July 25, 1991
At dinner that night, Harriet sat quietly at the table, listening to the adults talk. She wasn't really eating her food, but rather pushing it around her plate, deep in thought. Before she had gone out to get her school supplies, her fame wasn't something she really thought of. She knew of it, of course, but it was simply a small spot flickering on the edge of her mind. Ever since the events at Diagon Alley, though, she had been pondering the idea of her fame and what it meant.
She was famous for something that she could not remember, save for a flash of green light and a high-pitched laugh. She didn't know how she had done what she had done, but the wizards she had met today seemed to expect her to be some sort of superhero, like the ones in Dudley's comic books. She didn't fell like one.
Moreover, she didn't want to be one.
If everybody expected her to do something incredible one day, however, how would they react if she did nothing? Granted, she honestly didn't care to much for their opinions, since she really didn't know them, but she couldn't help but fear that her parents felt the same way.
"Harriet."
What if they got bored of her?
"Harriet?"
Would they send her back to the Dursleys? Would she have to-
"Harriet!"
Harriet jumped, just realizing that somebody had been calling her name. She met the expectant, and slightly worried, gaze of her mother. Harriet began idly twirling a strand of her hair around her finger in an attempt to calm herself down.
"Yeah, mum?" she asked politely, trying to pretend that she had been listening to the conversation around her. Her mother didn't buy it, however, and raised an elegant, auburn eyebrow.
"Are you alright, love?" She frowned. "You looked worried there, for a minute."
"I'm alright," Harriet assured her mother. "I am," she protested, seeing everybody's doubtful look. It was Uncle Severus who voiced their concerns.
"I find that doubtful," he retorted calmly, taking a slow sip of his water, "since you haven't said a word all night. Normally, though, I find myself hard pressed to get you to stop your incessant chattering."
"Its just," Harriet began, making sure to pointedly ignore Snape's victorious smirk, "today, at Diagon Alley-"
"You aren't worried about what Mr. Ollivander said about your wand, are you Prongslette?" assumed her father. Harriet didn't have to a chance to answer, though, because he began to ramble worriedly. "Its nothing you have to worry about, Harriet. It doesn't mean anything and-"
"Dad!" she interjected loudly. She was so loud in fact, that the entire table stared at her, never having heard her sound that way before. She blushed and lowered her eyes. "That is not what I was thinking about."
"Oh," her father seemed unsure of what to say, so he settled for throwing a roll at Sirius, who was snickering behind his spoon.
"Should I be worried about what Mr. Ollivander said?" Harriet asked her father curiously. He blanched.
"No!" Harriet's mum was quick to take over, while her father tried to recover. "Now, what was it you were thinking about?"
"I was thinking about all of the people at the Leaky Cauldron," she admitted. She waited for her parents to realize what she meant.
"You mean the ones who went mental when the saw you?" Harriet's mum rolled her eyes at her husband's eloquent description. Harriet laughed and nodded whole-heartedly.
"What about them, Prongslette?" asked Sirius, already having heard the story earlier.
"Everyone thinks I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Voldemort came to the house and-sorry-I mean, on that night."
"Oh, Harriet," her mother said, sounding relieved. "Is that what you were worried about?" Harriet shrugged.
"Love, don't worry about it. I didn't know anything when I first got to Hogwarts, remember?" Harriet nodded hesitantly.
"You'll learn soon enough, Prongslette," her father told her, smiling a bit. "I know its hard. You've been singled out, so I'm not going to say its going to be easy, but you'll have a good time, regardless. Everybody does, I promise!"
"Your father is right!" her mother beamed. "Look at Severus! He still has a great time at Hogwarts!" Harriet had to stifle her laughter when she saw the pointed look her mother gave Snape and the annoyed look she received in return.
"Yes," he said, "I thoroughly enjoy spending the majority of my time trying to teach unwilling imbeciles the subtle art of potions making, knowing full well that they neither understand nor appreciate it."
His sarcasm was laced on so heavily that Harriet's mum threw her hands up, exasperated and even Sirius couldn't hold back an appreciative chuckle. Then, a surprisingly comfortable (surprising because several of the men at the table held well known grudges against each other) descended on the table.
"So," Harriet said after a moment, "you won't send me back to the Dursleys if you get bored with me?"
The silence that followed this statement was not nearly as comfortable as the previous one.
"Get bored with-" her father muttered weakly, looking at her in obvious disbelief. Harriet mentally berated herself. She honestly needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut. She quickly got up from her chair and grabbed her plate, ready to make a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
"Never mind," she said quickly, walking towards the kitchen, "forget I said anything."
Her mother was not going to let her off that easily, however, and, before Harriet could make a clean getaway, her mum pulled her into her lap by the belt-loops of her jeans. She let out an indignant squeak.
"Harriet," her mother, worried, said. "We aren't going to get bored with you!" Harriet tried to wiggle away, but her mother just held her tighter. "And we certainly aren't going to send you back to the Dursleys!"
"I know," Harriet said quickly, feeling very embarrassed at this point. "I didn't mean to say anything I just-"
Harriet was cut off by her father, who had gotten up from his chair and gone over to them, took Harriet's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Harriet, you're mother and I didn't have a child because we were bored and needed entertainment. We had you because we wanted to raise you and watch you grow up." He smiled at her. "We aren't going to get rid of you when you stop being exciting," he raised an eyebrow skeptically, "which I doubt will happen anytime soon."
"Especially if all of your trips were as exciting as today's," Sirius, who had been listening on the conversation, quipped.
Harriet did the mature thing and stuck her tongue out at him.
Harriet Potter, Potter Manor-July 31, 1991
When Harriet woke up, she didn't notice anything particularly different about that morning. Nor did she realize anything was amiss when she put on her clothing. She descended the stairs as she normally did, not noticing the slightly unnerving silence. It wasn't until she reached the living room and found all the lights shut off that she noticed anything was up. Frowning, she flicked on the light.
"SURPRISE!"
Harriet had to bite back a scream and Isaura, curled around her wrist, let out a very angry hiss. Standing in her living room, looking quite proud of themselves, were her parents, Sirius, Remus, and Snape (Harriet suspected that, judging by the scowl on his face, he was not one of the people who had yelled surprise). She was also a bit surprised to see Dumbledore there, looking serene as always.
"What-?" Harriet tried to figure out what was going on. For some reason, the large HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRIET banner just wasn't processing.
"Its your birthday, Prongslette," said her father, looking highly amused. Harriet could only stare at him, making his smile falter. "Did you honestly not remember?"
"I've never celebrated- I didn't-" She seemed at a loss for words and settled for taking another moment to examine the room. They had gone all out she noticed. There were quite a few balloons, mounds of confetti, and the banner they had hung up wasn't hanging at all. Instead it was floating above them without any strings to hold it up.
"Well," Sirius said cheerfully, pulling her into the living room and onto the couch. "Its a good thing we remembered for you."
Harriet plopped down onto the couch, stills slightly dazed. She managed a small smile to Professor Dumbledore.
"Hello, sir," she said shyly. She hadn't had very many options to talk to the headmaster, so she was a bit shocked to see him in her family's living room. If he felt at all awkward, though, he definitely didn't show it.
"Hello, Harriet," was his simple response. "Happy birthday."
Harriet nodded dumbly, "Thank-you, sir" she finally said. She had finally registered that her parents were throwing her a small surprise party (indeed, it had taken a long time, but it wasn't exactly something she was used to). She felt something being placed in her lap and saw that her father had just handed her a colorfully wrapped gift.
"I'd hurry up and open it if I were you," he said conversationally, "you've got quite a few left."
"I have presents?" Harriet asked, stunned. Her mother frowned for a moment, before smiling again.
"Yes, love," she said. "That one is from your father and I."
Harriet began to hesitantly open the wrapping paper, moving a bit faster at her parents encouraging smiles. She opened it and found herself staring at a fairly large, leather-bound book. Opening it, she saw that it was a photo album. She flipped through the pages and realized that the first third or so of the book had already been filled with pictures; some of her parents at Hogwarts, some of them after Hogwarts, and quite a few of her as a baby.
"The rest of it is for you to fill up once you get to Hogwarts," offered her father. Harriet got up from her seat and walked over to her parents, giving them both a large hug, which they happily returned. After a moment they released her and she was sent back to the couch, where she proceeded to open her other presents.
From Snape, she got a lovely set of scales for potions making ("Now you do not have any excuses for blowing up the classroom," he had warned her sternly).
From Remus, she had gotten a dragon-hide wand holster that strapped onto her wrist. As Remus helped her get it on, trying to ignore Isaura's annoyed hisses, he explained that it was spelled against wear and tear and to remain invisible once it had been put onto its owner. It also adjusted to size and the wand in it could be released with a simple flick of the wrist.
Harriet was a bit confused by Sirius's gift.
"Three small mirrors?" she asked, holding them up to the light for inspection. James, apparently knew what they were though and let out a laugh. Remus, too, also shook his head a bit and chuckled.
"Your father, Remus, Pettigrew," his smile grew a bit forced here, "and I came up with these mirrors to talk to each other during class or detention. I thought you might enjoy them at Hogwarts.'
Harriet traced the mirror carefully, not really sure how she should be feeling. It was odd, knowing that her father and his friends had used these mirrors when they were her age (maybe a bit older) and that now it was her turn. She shot a smile at Sirius while Lily chastised him gently.
"Honestly, Sirius," she said, doing her best to sound stern, even though it was obvious that she was quite happy with his gift, "you are not supposed to be encouraging her to get into more trouble!"
"What kind of Marauder would I be if I didn't?" was his retort.
"A good one," Lily grumbled. Sirius pretended that he didn't hear. Dumbledore took a gift from his robes.
"Well, Lily, I fear that you will be very disappointed with my gift to Harriet, then." Lily looked suspiciously at the headmaster, while Harriet tried to protest.
"You didn't have to get me anything!" Dumbledore, like Hagrid, waved away her protests and cheerfully handed Harriet her present.
"I did not get you anything," Dumbledore said happily, "I am simply returning something to its rightful owner."
Harriet's father looked as though he had realized something, but didn't say anything to her, so Harriet unwrapped the light parcel. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.
"I borrowed it from you, James, quite a few years ago, with all the intention of returning it." Dumbledore smiled as Harriet carefully picked it from the floor. "But something told me you would be giving it to her, anyways."
Her dad simply nodded, grinning hugely at his daughter's perplexity.
"What is it?" she asked her father.
"Its an invisibility cloak," Sirius was the one to answer, looking as excited as her dad. Harriet looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was joking or not, before taking the cloak and tossing over her shoulders. Sure enough, she was left looking like a floating head.
"Woah," she said, almost laughing at the amount of joy that was filling her up. Snape raised an eyebrow.
"That cloak explains how you were able to pull off your many juvenile pranks," he muttered, "without getting caught, despite your below average intelligence."
Remus rolled his eyes.
"Keep in mind, Harriet," her mother warned, after a minute of watching her daughter examine the cloak more closely. Harriet looked up at her. "If we find out you are misusing that cloak in any way, it will be taken away from you."
Her father agreed, although he seemed a bit more grudging about it. Harriet, having finished opening up her gifts ("Your father wanted to go overboard," her mother informed her wryly, "but I told him to save it for Christmas"), took everything upstairs and put them away while the adults prepared the cake.
They sang "Happy Birthday" to her (even Snape, although he looked remarkably out of place among the festive decorations) and, between the seven of them, devoured the cake. Eventually, both Dumbledore and Snape left, leaving Harriet with her parents and Remus and Sirius.
For the rest of the day, they told her stories about Hogwarts and growing up, oftentimes making her laugh until tears were running down her face.
That night, she fell asleep on the couch with them, a content smile on her face.
AN: Part 2 of Harriet's trip to Diagon Alley, her birthday, and so on! Enjoy! Up next? Hogwarts! The train ride, meeting Ron and Hermione, and the all-important Sorting ceremony!
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